Chapter Text
When he thinks of meeting G’raha Tia, he thinks of this—
“You know, I’ve never met a Seeker with a name like yours.”
He knew this would happen.
“It’s quite unique. Is it a family name, or something else?”
He knew it, but that doesn’t make it any easier. Cálei grits his teeth as G’raha Tia continues, oblivious to the storming emotions opposite him. Of course he is. Why would someone like G’raha care? He doesn’t have to worry about—
“...Have I said something wrong? I do apologize, I meant no—”
“Offense?” Cálei snorts. “Of course you did.”
It gets the expected result: G’raha’s ears flare as he jerks back. Even in the evening gloom, there’s enough light from the nearby crystal to make out the haughty look in his mismatched eyes. “I most certainly did not. I was merely curious. You can hardly blame me for that.”
“Why, because I don’t use a Seeker name?” Cálei sneers. For once, he’s not hiding his vitriol. He should, of course. He should smile placidly and shrug and say nothing on the subject like he does every time someone asks, but he just doesn’t care. Between the pompous declarations and unnecessary diversions, G’raha Tia has rubbed him wrong from the moment they met. He doesn’t have to cater to his “eccentricities” when all they’re going to do is piss him off.
“Let me guess,” Cálei goes on. “Next you’re going to wonder which clan I’m from. You’re already certain I’m a tia, so you’ll skip that question. Then you’ll ask where I did get my surname.” He rolls his eyes. “Maybe you’ll even ask if I’m married to some Hyur, like that Seeker I met last week. And to top it all off, you’ll ask if I’m really okay with going without my clan name, since forenames are so special.” He doesn’t even try to hide his disdain. “Gods forbid a Seeker try to be their own person.”
G’raha Tia looks fairly stunned. Maybe it’s the way venom coats every word that Cálei spits out, or maybe it’s that he’s saying it at all. Seekers don’t talk about things like this. They’re born into it and don’t question any of it.
Why would they? Seekers belong to the clan. They’re not allowed to have their own identity. They can’t even introduce themselves without deferring to their clan and their role in it.
Not that Cálei remembers anything about that.
“I... apologize.”
He’s gotten so worked up that he nearly misses the quiet reply. Cálei turns to the other Seeker, surprised, and finds a strangely pensive look in his eyes. “I see this means a great deal to you. I should not have pried.”
Cálei deflates somewhat. He’s still good and annoyed, but it’s simmering now rather than rushing to the surface. It’s been so long since he let his temper off its leash that it’s hard to restrain it again, but he recognizes a genuine apology when he hears one.
“No, you shouldn’t have,” Cálei mutters. “Just— drop it.”
G’raha Tia nods, but he’s still looking at him. “Their own person, indeed,” he murmurs. “Then in your view, I suppose I am simply Raha. No tia, no clan.”
Cálei didn’t expect to be the one feeling uncomfortable, and wears it poorly. He’s never had anyone ask him that before. Hells, he’s never had someone accept his view. It is not a sentiment he has often shared, granted, but it’s always been there, at the back of his mind. More than one Seeker has commented upon his icy regard for their kind.
But that doesn’t mean Cálei has any desire to force others to follow his path. His reasons for disdain are hardly universal. “You are whoever you choose,” Cálei says, finally. “I can’t decide that.”
G’raha Tia accepts this with another nod. His tail is coiling and uncoiling on the crate beneath him. “So I am,” he murmurs. “And yet, I pray you will forgive me my curiosity. I have never met a Seeker so willing to abandon their clan, and therefore I must wonder—”
“If I have a clan at all?”
G’raha’s mismatched eyes are alight with interest. “Quite. For instance, I am given to understand that Miqo’te adopted by other races follow their naming patterns. It is a reasonable guess, in your case.”
“Reasonable, but wrong,” Cálei grumbles. “I had a clan. I don’t anymore.”
“Then your surname—”
“Is one I chose. You can do that, you know.”
Curious ears flick upwards. “Truly? I have never heard of such.”
“Of course you can. Who would stop you? More importantly, who would care? It’s your name.”
“Yes, I rather suppose it is.” G’raha smiles. “You have given me a great deal to consider, Cálei. I thank you.”
Cálei can’t help but raise an eyebrow. “That’s not the usual response I get, you know.”
“I’m not your usual Miqo’te,” G’raha replies, primly.
At that, even Cálei manages to crack a smile. “No,” he admits. “I guess you aren’t.”
———
When Cálei Daedala thinks of meeting G’raha Tia, he thinks of this.
Not aethersand or an unfamiliar voice in a well-trod forest. Not a haughty introduction complete with a declaration of making a mark on history. He thinks of this moment so few days in, a moment that wholly eschewed his expectations.
He doesn’t believe in love at first sight. He never has. Yet when he thinks back to that moment—
It doesn’t matter now.