3. Casimine
Casimine
The other side of the bed was empty.
Light gray eyes blinked in confusion as Casimine rolled fully onto his side. He had expected to wake up to a broad chest, but instead found sheets that were much too cold.
Did he leave already? What time is it?
Casimine pushed himself up, yawning as he searched the room. He spotted Dumpling doing lazy laps inside his enclosure, but no sign of Ameriden. Frowning, Casimine reached beneath his pillow for a ribbon. He gathered his shoulder length blue green hair and tied the ribbon near the base of his neck.
He’s fine.
The thought should have been comforting but Casimine could feel the anxiety beneath his medium-light cyan skin. Even as he pulled a silk robe onto his lean shoulders, the urge to pace was already taking root.
It was ridiculous to be worried about Amer. Out of the two of them, he was the one who was the most capable if something truly awful were to happen. Amer had access to magic through his instrument and what he lacked in talent, he made up for in strength.
Seira wouldn’t let him explore the Chroma Coast alone, Casimine thought as he worried his bottom lip with a canine. Not unless…
There was a possibility that Amer had chosen to explore the city on his own.
Cashmere Fantasy had toured the Chroma Coast a year ago.
A line from Port Vurbali all the way to the capital city of Beryl.
The colors and diversity of port cities and coastlines was always a treat for both of them.
People who would gladly share their stories in exchange for attention and praise.
Something Casimine was rather proficient in.
“Ameriden is our sex appeal, but you’re the face with the voice, Casi,” Seira had said when they first started traveling together.
Casimine had always laughed, charmed by the idea that others were so smitten by something as ordinary as his face.
He supposed it was better to be disillusioned by his appearance than be a pompous airbag like some of the other bards had been in college.
However, modesty had it’s place. While he might have downplayed the intensity of his stare, or the angles of his jawline, when Casimine was singing, he knew exactly how to work the room.
A skill that he had unfortunately learned at an early age.
Save the tragedy for some other time, Casi.
Shrugging his shoulders, Casimine stretched as he walked toward the small round table. A basket of fruits—some of which had seen better days—awaited. He plucked a banana and slowly removed the skin as he plopped down onto the writing desk chair.
Scrolls were piled near the back of the desk, with several pieces of parchment disorganized across the front.
Casimine’s own messy script laid bare under his heavy gaze.
The itch to grab the quill and blot out all the words was building in his left hand.
It would take just a few seconds, a quick skritch and all the awful words he had come up with last night would be gone.
“And high up it goes, the dragon, as we ride away in our wagon—” Casimine groaned. “I must have been drunk when I wrote this.”
The daydreamers may have thought Casimine was a lyrical poet, but he did not feel like one.
At all.
In fact, the more he looked at his miserable attempt at retelling the story of Yara, the red dragon, the more Casimine wanted to ruin the words.
Spill the black ink and soak the parchment until not a trace of his terrible lyrics could see the light of the Fire Matron.
Swallow up all the mistakes, all of his imperfections until there was nothing left.
Don’t do that, Casi!
Casimine tore himself away from the writing desk, but carelessly threw the banana peel on top of the parchment.
A slight against his own creativity since the version of Amer that lived in his head would hate it if he destroyed his work.
He ran his hands over his face, pausing to massage his temples with his long fingers.
He couldn’t deny it anymore. Casimine Moonsong, one half of Cashmere Fantasy, the dynamic bard duo, was absolutely suffering from writer’s block.
What was frustrating about the whole situation was that the words were there.
Casimine could feel them inside his head, like sea foam cresting on gentle waves.
The problem was every time he tried to reach for them, the words would disintegrate before he could fully grasp them.
Maybe if he—
A sharp knock at the door of the room broke Casimine from his ruminations. He frowned, pushing an errant strand of hair that had come loose from his movement behind his pointed ear.
Did Amer forget his key? No, we’ve traveled together too long. I’ve taught him to check before he leaves so—
“Just a moment,” Casimine called as he approached the door.
Perhaps it wasn’t Amer at all. Maybe Seira had arrived early to usher them back onto the ship. Honestly, a single night in the Chroma Coast wasn’t nearly enough time to acclimate before they would be back on the sea—
Casimine froze.
Standing on the other side of the door wasn’t Amer or Seira as he expected, but a large eyed elven woman. She was dressed in simple housekeeping clothes, a white apron tied around her tiny waist. Brown hair tied back in a single ponytail, her pale face as shocked as his.
“I—I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt anything—” The woman shut her eyes tightly, a blush coloring her face a cherry red. “Not that I assumed you were doing anything! This is an inn after all—the inn—just about the best that anyone could expect and—”
Stammering?
Check.
Red face?
Check.
Wild gesticulating?
Check.
Casimine raised an arm, pressing it into the doorway as his face morphed into a soft expression. If his robe opened a little, well, that was part of the act at this point.
“You’re no trouble at all,” he said, voice gentle and overly familiar. “I was just… seeing to my own devices, that’s all. Can I help you with something?”
The sound that escaped her mouth was definitely a cross between an ‘eep’ and a ‘ack’, though Casimine wasn’t sure which was more distinct.
Dare he say the woman was practically shaking from her own nerves.
Cute, but not ideal in terms of Casimine’s choice of bedfellows.
If she was reacting like this to a sliver of his chest, he had no doubt she would lose her mind if Ameriden had also been there.
“I—I was sent to deliver a message!” she squeaked. “Someone named Seira said there was a slight delay with the port schedule and there could be a few more hours before she arrives.”
Curious that one of the best inns on the water couldn’t afford to utilize a messenger arcanist, but it was probably more affordable to just send someone. Strange, though, that Seira hadn’t simply just come up to his room instead.
Unless she met up with Amer, but what could they be up to that they wouldn’t invite me?
Despite what fans thought, Casimine and Amer weren’t joined at the hip.
Yes, occasionally they would fall into bed together, but that was normal.
Especially after drinking several bottles of wine.
And while they enjoyed each others company, Casimine did appreciate the few hours he was afforded to be properly alone.
“That’s it,” the woman said after an awkward pause. “There’s no more message.”
“Appreciated. Thank you for relaying it to me,” Casimine smiled, all boyish and charming.
Right on cue, the woman’s face went back to the brighter shade of cherry red.
Casimine wasn’t a flirt by nature—at least, that’s what he told himself.
It was difficult to distinguish Casimine the man and Casimine the famous bard.
Casimine the bard was known for his flirtation, for his charisma, and singing. Casimine the man on the other hand…
He’s a bit lost to me…
“Okay,” she meekly said. “Good day.”
“Good day,” Casimine said, moving to shut the door.
He was unprepared for when a hand pushed through the small gap to clutch at the door frame. In fact, he jerked back, nearly stumbling on the end of his open robe as the woman pushed her body into the door frame.
“You’re Casimine, aren’t you? Casimine from Cashmere Fantasy, right? Tell me I’m not looking at an illusion!” the woman blurted, fingers curling against the wood in a manner that unnerved him.
Quick, quick, quick!
“I…” Casimine let out a laugh. “You got me, it’s an illusion.”
The woman’s eyes lost a bit of the glassy look, as if someone had removed all the light in the room. She practically wilted in the door, a disappointed frown appearing on her face.
“Oh… well… it’s really good,” she complimented, before sending him an offended stare as she reached for the door handle.
“But also you really shouldn’t be pretending to be Casimine.
He’s the best bard in all of Ordia and he works really hard to look like that, just so you know. I’m a fan but I’m not that crazy.”
Wincing, Casimine sent her a tense smile. “Got it.”
She nodded.
The moment the door shut, Casimine ran forward, locked it, and immediately sunk to the floor. His back pressed against the door, knees drawn tight to his chest. Casimine buried his face into his crossed arms and let out a gasping breath.
“I’m lucky,” Casimine murmured against his arm. “I’m lucky, I’m lucky…”
The words became a mantra, a reminder that Casimine was lucky to have the supporters he did.
Not every bard was as lucky as him. Not every bard made it past their first few adventures to tell the tale, let alone reach a level of notoriety that he had.
To be known on several continents—to know that people traveled just to hear him perform?
That was what made all of this worth it, wasn’t it?
It’s how he was able to travel, to have a full belly every day, to not have to worry about finding shelter at night.
And yet…
That was too close. Too much like what happened before.
Casimine wasn’t certain how long he sat in front of the door, only that when it opened again he nearly screamed. In his attempt to flee, Casimine got tangled in his robe, falling onto his butt as the door revealed Ameriden’s confused face.
“Casi? What—” Ameriden’s eyes widened.
He dropped to his knees next to Casimine, large hands hovering around his shoulders.
“Are you okay? What happened? Did someone try to break in again?” Ameriden questioned, scanning Casimine’s body. “Did they hurt you?”
His chest was shuddering or was he trembling from the scare? Casimine wasn’t sure, but he tried to will his mouth to form words. To say anything, even a whisper. Only, just like his lyrics, the words weren’t there. They weren’t there and that—
Ameriden must have seen something on his face that scared him, because suddenly Casimine was being pulled close.
For a water hanfen, Ameriden always radiated so much heat.
They used to joke that Ameriden must have had an ancestor that married a fire hanfen.
How else could Ameriden be so warm when Casimine felt like his skin had turned to ice?
“Hey, you’re okay,” Ameriden said against his temple. “Whatever happened, you’re gonna be okay.”
Casimine wasn’t sure if that was true. It didn’t feel like it was true as he buried his face in Ameriden’s chest. The solid muscles beneath the traveling cloak were tense with worry and Casimine hated that he couldn’t voice what was wrong.
That he couldn’t just tell the fellow bard that he had overreacted.
That there was nothing wrong because nothing had actually happened.
Just an encounter with an excited fan—something that was completely normal.
Instead, he clutched Ameriden’s back so tightly, his knuckles hurt.
“You’re safe,” Ameriden assured.
But am I?