Work Text:
“Anyone sitting here, love?”
Yasha looks up to see a lavender tiefling flashing her a bright grin. There’s a certain quality to that smile that she can’t quite place, but she doesn’t really trust, that feels manipulative somehow, like this smile is used to get what this person wants.
Eh, fuck it. She’s been at the circus for gods know how long now and hasn’t made a single friend, so she might as well take what she can get. “No,” she says. “Knock yourself out.”
“Lovely.” They slide into the seat next to her. “What’s your name?”
“‘M Yasha.”
“Hello, Yasha. My name is Mollymauk, but my friends call me Molly, and we’re friends now, aren’t we?”
“I guess so. Hello, Molly.”
And the rest, she supposes, is history.
——
Yasha isn’t sure when Molly became such a fixture in her life. She was so focused on keeping her walls up and keeping everybody out that she forgot to guard her heart, and he snuck in like a worm into a rotten apple.
No matter how it happened, he’s here now, and she can’t imagine a life without him. She’d sworn off love after Zuala, but Molly wormed his way into her. He’s as much a part of her now as any of her organs. They’re joined at the hip, much to the annoyance of Desmond and Gustav, who can barely handle them individually.
“Yasha!”
Speak of the devil. She turns at the call to see Molly tossing his scimitars around, looking bored, pretending he didn’t just shout her name across the grass.
“What d’you want, asshole?” she yells back, ignoring the look Orna shoots her as she passes.
“Help me set up for tonight! I’m bored and Orna won’t help!”
“You’re perfectly capable of setting up yourself, you dramatic ass,” Orna slings across her shoulder as she passes him. He takes a playful swing at her with his scimitar. “You just don’t want to.”
“Got me.” He grins cheekily. “Yasha’ll help me, though. She looooves me.”
“Dramatic bastard,” she tells him, slinging an arm around his shoulders.
“Douchebag,” he shoots back, lacing his fingers with hers. “Do you need to see a medic to get that stick removed from your ass?”
She laughs. “You need to see one to get your mouth sewn shut.”
“Have fun, you two,” Orna grumbles. “I need a drink.”
Molly cackles, waving at her. “Don’t get too sloshed, darling, you’re already combustible as is!”
She flips him off, making him laugh even harder. The air of the carnival grounds feels pleasantly charged, like it’s anticipating something good. Yasha has a good feeling about tonight’s show.
——
Turns out, Yasha’s gut cannot be trusted. She’s sitting in jail, because that night’s show did not go well. She definitely wasn’t anticipating zombies, or the group whose weapons she’d regretfully confiscated beating the living shit out of said zombies.
She definitely shouldn’t have run. It made her look guilty. In her defense, it was instinct. She couldn’t find Molly, and if she had, she would’ve dragged him along with her. Now she’s in jail and his lucky ass is running amok, doing gods only know what.
She’s staring at the wall and cursing every god she can think of when her cell door is thrown open, two crownsguard charging in and grabbing each of her arms.
“Hey, what the fuck?” she demands, struggling against them. “Let go, you bastards!”
“Quit struggling!” one of them tells her. “You’re getting out. We’re never gonna have to see your face again, got it?”
That shuts her up. She nods and wonders what the hell happened to get her out of jail. She thought she’d never get out. They needed a scapegoat, and there she was, running from the scene. She silently apologizes to all of the deities she cursed earlier. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I was really pissed off.
The crownsguard bring her to the main hall of the stockade and release her shackles. She massages her wrists where the shackles rubbed them raw. Ow.
Yasha barely takes a step outside before something heavy barrels into her, knocking the breath out of her. She grunts, swinging whatever it is around. She looks down, and only sees curled horns nearly poking her eye out before she realizes who it is.
“Molly!” she exclaims, swinging him around again, more gently this time. He’s the only one who ever brings out this side of her. She squeezes him, so tightly he wheezes. “I missed you.”
“You missed me?” he snorts incredulously. “I was worried sick, Yasha. I had no idea where you were or if you were even alive. You’re paying for my counseling, asshole.”
“Oh, please. You’re so dramatic. I’m here now, and I am sorry. I ran and left you behind, which I now know I will not be doing again.”
He sticks out his pinky, deadly serious. “Pinky swear we’ll never leave each other behind, Nydoorin.”
She takes it. “Pinky swear, Tealeaf.”
——
Yasha rubs the soft fabric of Molly’s coat between her fingers. The colors, once so vibrant, are faded now, after so long. Long May He Reign, reads the small, weathered stone marking the patch of grass, lovingly etched by Caleb’s shaky hands.
“Hey, Molly,” she says quietly. She comes to his grave to talk to him a lot. Enough that it’s the first place Beau looks when she can’t find her. “It’s been a year now. I miss you. We all do. Sorry Caleb’s not with me today, but he had some things he needed to take care of. He loves you, though. He told me to tell you. You know, but he wanted to say it again. You know how he is.”
She laughs at herself, imagining what he would say. He’d laugh, shaking his head. Don’t I. Gods, I love that man.
“I know. He misses you.”
I’m always with him.
“I know.” Her eyes well up with tears, splashing down onto the dirt.
Oh, love. Don’t waste your tears on little old me. I’m always with you, too. You know that. Caleb might be my lover, but you’re my Love. You can’t get rid of me that easily.
She gives a watery laugh. “Yeah, I know, Molly. Couldn’t get rid of you even if I tried. I love you.”
I love you too, Yasha. Don’t forget it, asshole.
“Couldn't if I tried, you little bitch.”
“Excuse me, love?”
Yasha almost doesn’t reply, thinking this voice is still in her head. It sounds almost exactly like her Molly, but the cadence is strange. This can’t be in her head, she knows how Molly talks, and it’s not like that.
“I really hate to interrupt, but could you direct me to Zadash? I’m a bit lost, I fear.”
The more she listens, the more it sounds like Molly. And love? He’s the only person who ever called her that. She whips her head around, ready to strangle him for taking so long to come back this time.
A punched-out breath escapes her. It really is him. His hair is longer and darker, but that’s her Molly, alive and in the flesh, right in front of her. Her knees nearly buckle as she lunges forward and crushes him in a hug. “Molly, you bastard,” she growls, hardly daring to breathe for fear that he’ll dissolve into the ground or something. “I missed you so much.”
He awkwardly pats her back. Once she finally releases him, he steps back, adjusting his rumpled collar.
“I’m terribly sorry, but I don’t think I’m the person you’re looking for. Who is Molly?”