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Essek considered himself to be a perceptive individual, a keen mind for details. There was much Essek had known about Caleb Widogast before this journey together into Aeor. He had already seen the scars along his arms in a similar pattern that Essek had seen on the Scourger he had interrogated. Evidently it was some part of the Scourger training.
As they made slow and careful process through the ruins, with just the two of them, Essek was learning about more about Caleb's quirks. After finding Caleb punishing himself on the eighth floor that initial night, he thankfully had not encountered Caleb overtly harming himself in a similar manner. However, there was a more subtle pattern that Essek wished to investigate.
In moments of stress, whether that be the aftermath of an encounter with the local Aeoran dangers or a reminder of why he was here - whatever sin he was looking to fix - Caleb would either fiddle with whatever spell component immediately available to him or his fingers would drift up his sleeves. That in of itself was innocuous, but it was always paired with a subtle pained twitch in Caleb's expression. Essek had his suspicions but needed some form of confirmation.
It was the third evening in these ruins, and Essek was sipping on savory and slightly sweet vegetable stew as he watched Caleb. Caleb's soup was virtually untouched as he poured over their shared notes. He wasn't writing or adding to them, just reading them intently, one of his hands up his other sleeve. It had hitched up slightly, just enough that one of the scars was visible.
"Anything interesting?" Essek asked, glancing down at their notes.
"Nothing we haven't already discussed," Caleb replied without looking up. "I fear we might have hit a bit of a tangle that we won't be able fully unravel until we can study the T-dock in person."
"Well, at the rate that we're making our way, we'll likely arrive within the week."
Caleb sighed through his nose and nodded. The muscles of his wrist flexed, implying that his hand was gripping his forearm more tightly.
Essek reached over and placed a hand over Caleb's wrist. Caleb stiffened slightly, looking up from his notes. "What are you doing?" Essek asked quietly.
Caleb frowned slightly as he glanced down at Essek's hand. He blinked, seemingly surprised with what he saw. "Uh..." He pulled his hand away, tugging his sleeve back down. "My apologies, I-I wasn't really aware I was doing it."
"Doing what?" Essek prodded, pulling his hand back as Caleb fiddled with the corner of one of the pages.
Caleb pursed his lips, tapping his fingers on the table. "It's an old little... twitch." He slowly pushed his sleeves back up, revealing the multitude of scars. "Ikithon would... put residuum in to amplify our magic. Sometimes I feel like they're still in there. It's foolish, but..." Caleb waved a hand around his head. "It's all fucked up up here."
Essek couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in detached curiosity at the idea of physically embedding residuum into an individual's body. He recalled the scourgers they fought in the Blooming Grove, their arms glowing with arcane energy as they fought. A specialized scourger ability, it would seem.
But then he took a closer look, and he saw that several of the scars looked to be inflamed and dotted with raised blood spots. Caleb had been trying to dig out the phantom crystals.
He hesitated for only a moment before reaching forward again, putting one hand underneath Caleb's wrist and gently grabbing further up his forearm, rubbing a thumb over one of the reddened lines of scar tissue. Then he shifted the arm to rub a thumb over another picked-at scar. Most of them looked to have been messed with to different degrees. One of the bigger scars looked particularly abused, the edge of the harder tissue pulling away from the skin and forming a line of shiny blood.
Upon touching that one, Caleb abruptly pulled his arm away.
"Oh, I-I'm sorry," Essek stammered. "I shouldn't have - "
"It's fine," Caleb said curtly, tugging his sleeves back down. "I should be the one..." He grimaced, looking and leaning away. "Never mind me, it's an old habit."
Essek slowly exhaled through his nose. "I don't claim to be an expert on such things, but this does not strike me as a particularly... healthy response."
Caleb snorted. "I am nothing if not a paragon of bad coping mechanisms."
A well of frustration rose in Essek. "Stop it."
It was said quietly, but Caleb momentarily reared back, his eyes widening as if he had been slapped. "I... I'm sorry, I - "
"No, stop." Essek briefly wondered if the Nein knew about all of these little self-destructive tendencies, and if so, if they already had their own approaches to mitigating them. In this moment, he wished they were here. "I'm not going to sit here and listen to this." Before Caleb could respond, Essek flagged down the nearest spectral cat. "Get me a healer's kit."
Caleb began to stammer. "I-I really don't need..."
Essek glared at him, daring Caleb to stop him. That seemed enough to stave any further protest.
Essek begrudgingly began to evoke the spirit of his brother, the annoyingly attentive acts of care he'd take when Essek would get worked up or obsessive. Often times both. He pulled Caleb's neglected dinner fully in front of him. "Eat."
He half-expected protest, or at least an indignant glare. Instead, Caleb considered the bowl of stew with a blank expression before his shoulders slumped slightly, picking up the spoon to obey.
Some of the tension in Essek's chest unraveled. The obedience was unexpected and a little unnerving, but for now he would take it. Particularly if it put a pause on the self-cutting words spoken too easily. He put a bit more of his focus separating out their individual papers, ensuring their notes were organized before straightening them and tucking his own away, leaving Caleb's in a neat pile.
Two-thirds of Caleb's meal was gone by the time the cat returned with the requested kit. Essek cleared an area on the table for him to open it and lay out the supplies. He was by no means a trained healer, but he has been in enough tough binds to know the basics. More than enough for the minor blemishes Caleb's fingernails had inflicted.
Wordlessly, Essek methodically took out he bandages and a container of numbing and cleansing ointment. Then he took one of Caleb's wrists and pulled the arm closer. He rubbed some of the ointment between his thumb and forefinger to warm it before beginning to gently rub it over one of the abused scars. He made sure it was firmly rubbed into the nooks and crannies of the jagged tissue.
One by one, Essek tended to each mar and picked-at scar. He had a firm hold on Caleb's arm, even when he needed to gather more ointment into his fingers. Once he finished with one arm, he silently grabbed the other to continue the ritual.
Essek tightened his grip slightly when he got the last and worst one. It looked as if Caleb had been trying to rip the scar tissue straight off, the boundary of the harder flesh open and bleeding.
In contrast to his grip, Essek took great care to softly guide the ointment into the open crevasse and the surrounding agitated flesh. The blood intermingled with it, tinging it pink. Once he was sure that that the wound was fully treated, he grabbed a small square of fabric, folding it over before pressing it to Caleb's skin. The ointment was just tacky enough to keep the swatch in place.
Essek sighed with a small sense of accomplishment of a task complete. He released Caleb's arm and wiped his hands clean before looking back up to his face.
The brief modicum of satisfaction faded at the slight shimmer of tear tracks down Caleb's cheeks. His expression was blank as he stared down at his arms, his fingers lightly touching the bandage. "I..." He paused, the word coming out gravelly and rough. "Th-Thank you," he finally whispered.
Essek grimaced at the apology. It felt so misplaced. He reached forward again, grasping Caleb's hands. "Perhaps, in the future, when you feel the need to dig those crystals out of yourself, you come to me and I can help in a less... aggressive manner?"
The lump on Caleb's throat bobbed as he swallowed. He slowly turned his hands over to return Essek's grasp, rubbing the backs of his hands with his thumbs. The gentle scrape of his calluses sent small shivers up Essek's spine.
"I will... try and keep it in mind," Caleb replied softly.
"Please do," Essek replied promptly, giving his hands a brief squeeze for emphasis.
The blank expression broke slightly, and Caleb's shoulders relaxed. It wasn't quite a smile, but it was an acceptance. Maybe even a concession to not sequester himself away whenever he was in pain.
It was small, but it filled Essek with cautious hope. It felt like progress. Towards what specifically, he still wasn't sure, but for now... this was more than enough.