Work Text:
Many years had passed since Wyll left his hometown, and while he hadn't planned on returning with horns he was glad to be back. Glad, too, that most people weren't as hostile here as he'd feared they could be, and glad to be sleeping in the finest (cleanest) room in Elfsong, Karlach alive and ready to play cards whenever they weren't needed. He could nearly pretend they weren't revving up to fight a giant brain. A monster hunter's pinnacle! That was how he would think about it.
Bird song filled the morning air, his tea steamed, Karlach had claimed the table they liked outside and he'd just opened to the crossword when a familiar tickling hit his frontal lobe and a voice like rotten treacle cooed, "Wylly!"
Twenty-four. He didn't answer. He never answered when Mizora used his sending stone. If she wanted an answer, she could talk to him outloud, not through his eye, in a voice that didn't sound like she was covering poison with honey.
"It's her, isn't it?" Karlach said. "You always get this look like you're going to vomit out of your ears."
"Glad I've finally taught the pup not to jump all over me when I call," Mizora crooned.
Nine. Nine more words until the stone stopped working for the day and she would be out of his brain.
"Today's a special date."
Five. Gods, whatever she was going to say would be awful.
"Why don't you just—" Karlach tapped the side of her eye.
Excellent idea. He popped his eye out and set it on the table, catching a faint, "Happy—" before she was gone. Only four words left in the spell, but they were probably vile.
"She's reminding me that today is the anniversary of the day I signed," he explained.
"Really? The day you single-handedly saved the city? That calls for celebration. We should make a day of it! We could buy you another eye. A shut-up eye."
"Or go to the circus again. This time without a deranged clown attack. Get more makeup and sneak it into Astarion's bag."
"One day he's going to kill us."
"Nah, it's all in good fun. Now, if we put it on him while he was trancing…"
"Wyll. I thought you were a good guy!"
Wyll held up his hands, palms out. "I am! I am."
Karlach picked up the eye and made a face. "Gods, she is so mean in only four words. How do I work this again?"
"You simply think—"
"Fuck you, too!"
"No, you think… wait. I have a better idea."
Wyll took it. He wasn't a musician, but he did currently room with a bard who loved to come up with the most earworm-y diddies and even Mizora had lost her cool over the most recent song. In his thoughts he sang, "Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy, you know my lodgings, call on me, maybe."
Just to give Mizora something to mull over. Enrichment was very important for devilish contract holders.
Karlach leaned back, looking up at their room. A tenday ago Tav finally hit a breaking point—Tav, of all people!—and turned Mizora to stone. Luckily the spell didn't trigger anything in their contract, which made sense; Mizora was technically still alive and technically able to communicate. "Wanna go dress her up? What would she hate more? Clashing pinks or something that actually covers skin?"
"According to her, I have the worst taste in fashion. So, my clothes."
"Your clothes in pink!"
Wyll could do that. He looked good in pink.
"All of the above, with clown makeup," he suggested.
"It's a date."