#( i wasn't able to work out quite yet how they'd have met with her post-canon verse but i'm open to plotting in it if you'd like! )

[widaugast]

this is not over. it can’t be.

            CRITICAL ROLE —- no longer accepting!

        It’s a moment’s breadth, and Caleb can do nothing but blink.  It doesn't  —-  it may not be right to turn his back, to be unsure, but there is little denying that it is all he thinks of now, made quiet by the half-breaks in the druid’s voice.  He does not know  —-  is not worthy  —-  how to comfort something so familiar as what he thinks he sees, what looks like memories, stirring somewhere beneath a great well where they were supposed to be kept.  He, of all people, might know it, but that does not make him qualified  —-  make him feel that he can do anything for a moment other than watch as a part of an unknown story exposes itself, letting little pass other than the silent acknowledgement that it is there.  Here, it says, here was something important.

        Under the swaying trees, somewhere nearby, a low birdcall, and Frumpkin  —-  a blinking owl in the gathering dusk  —-  takes a roost on Caleb’s shoulder, though his head turns towards Keyleth, watchful in his own way.  Through his familiar’s eyes, Caleb knows now that the path ahead of them is clear  —  there is a clearing suitable for a night’s rest none too far ahead, if they can find their footing again before nightfall.  A pause  —-  somewhere ahead, a sheen in the lowing light as the end of Caduceus’ staff shines, the slow gathering of the party after combat coming together, a yelp from Nott as Jester’s healing spell re-knits together a bone in her arm.  ❝ Keyleth  —-  ❞  A pause.  He’s none too sure how to approach now, something still clouding her vision slightly, but does so indirectly, taking a half-step towards the other reassembling adventurers and nodding slightly towards the sound.  ❝ The fight is done, it  —-  we could use your help in getting through the rest of these woods quietly, for tonight. ❞