#For the period of one week my entire life was about vox machina

[sacchaa]

I CAN'T WITH THIS COUPLE

This show fundamentally changed my brain for a WHILE

[pagerunner-j]

So: writing.

I haven’t written any fic in ages. I’ve had ideas bouncing around for a while, but long story short, morale was low. A project came up, though, that sounded like a good excuse to bust one of those concepts out of the closet, and I started tinkering around with it this week to see if it might work. Of course, I promptly realized it’ll be WAY too long, sooooo...yeah, I’ll have to go back to one of the other ideas instead.

Still, I’ll probably have to finish this one eventually, too, because now I’m invested. Dammit. ;)

For now: have the first draft of the first section as a preview. Future!Keyleth goes back to Whitestone to inspect something very interesting up for auction...

--

The placard in the display case read, Lot 19: Automaton clock, 830-835 PD, Whitestone Society of Artists and Artisans.

The label was understated, but the tabletop timepiece was anything but. It resembled a classical building, surrounded by miniature figures. A small bird perched on the rooftop, viewing everyone below. Most curiously, at least unless you knew Whitestone’s history, a bear had pride of place before the front door. It was rearing up on its hind legs, standing taller than the townspeople. None of them seemed afraid of him. One even seemed to be offering something, although she, and everything else, was suspended in motion. The delicate handle on the back of the clock suggested its potential. The stern guard standing nearby also suggested its value.

The woman who’d walked up to see it did her best to ignore the guard—a tall order, considering he was a very tall half-orc—and bent closer to the case.

Her reflection in the glass was faint, but it still showed the vivid red of her hair and the intent flicker of her eyes. She’d dressed in muted, formal clothes like everyone else, but she moved like they fit uncomfortably. Her short hair was brushed down far enough to cover her pointed ears, but her sun-bronzed complexion and freckled nose still stood out in this town, as far north as it was and as close to the edge of winter. She could have disguised those features better, but doing so hadn’t felt right. Even the name she’d registered under — “K. Ashe” — wasn’t exactly a lie. She could only hope that no one would think she was more interesting than the extraordinary artifacts in this room. So far, she’d been proven exactly right.

After all, the Frederickstein-Graves collection, built up over the years by cousins and companions of Whitestone’s ruling family, ran toward the esoteric. It also kept an eye to local history. Ms. Ashe had surveyed the catalog already, which included an elaborate game set dating back to the re-opening of continental trade routes (lot 9) and an unusual harp by a 10th-century artificer famous for her impossible-to-mimic performances (lot 12). But the prize items claimed connection to Whitestone’s greatest villains and heroes. Ms. Ashe had already overheard an enthusiastic discussion about a set of onyx jewelry that once passed through the hands of Lady Briarwood. It came complete with legends about a curse. From the sounds of it, that was somehow adding to the lot’s appeal. She hadn’t even wanted to ask.

But then there was this clock.

Whitestone’s renowned artisans’ society was founded by Percival Frederickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III, said the catalog on page 32, where she’d left a slender bookmark. De Rolo was Whitestone’s original Sophist of Native Ingenuity and member of the legendary group Vox Machina. This automaton clock, styled in the manner of his clock tower installation, dates from the period of his involvement with the guild and was gifted directly to the Frederickstein family. He has been credited in family documents as the maker of this timepiece.

Ms. Ashe, who had some familiarity with de Rolo handiwork, reached back into distant memories for a comparison. It took more effort than she was expecting. Suppressing a wince, she tilted her head to see the clock at a better angle.

“Magnificent craftsmanship, isn’t it?” said someone behind her. When she glanced up at the glass, she saw a young woman in a tailored suit, with her dark hair bound in a tidy braid. Her smile was just as tight, just as precise. “It’s truly something to see it up close.”

“It really is,” the redhead agreed. She straightened and turned around. “Jewel of the collection, everyone’s saying.”

“For once, the wisdom of the masses is entirely correct.” The woman’s smile had gone a touch condescending. “I traveled all the way from Rexxentrum to see it. It’s good to know the journey wasn’t wasted.”

“Did you now.”

“Indeed.” She proffered a hand. “Celia Corrigan-Whitburn. And I suppose you’ll be one of my rivals at auction, Miss…?”

“Ashe,” she answered, and then, somewhat awkwardly, “Kiki, specifically. To my friends. And the occasional rival.”

“Kiki. Really. Well, that’s charming.” Celia smiled again, mostly to the guard. “I don’t suppose I could persuade you to show us the clock in motion?”

“That’s a question for one of the specialists, ma’am.”

“Of course. Could you call one over, please?”

His expression didn’t change, but he touched his earpiece and murmured something Kiki couldn’t hear. She reflexively reached up to her own ear, touching the jewel that still hung there, but as ever, it remained perfectly silent.

Celia, who was speaking again, didn’t seem to notice.

“I was sent to inspect this at the behest of my employers,” she said. “We specialize in far more complex devices, but we still appreciate the classics. Especially when their makers are so interesting. Ah, there we are.”

The auction specialist, a tall human woman with an aquiline nose, nodded a greeting. “I understand you’re interested in the de Rolo clock.”

“Are you saying that’s its official provenance, then?”

“We can’t say it with 100% certainty, but all the hallmarks we’re aware of are there. I can show you one or two of them. Just a moment.”

While the guard hovered close by, she produced a small key and unlocked one side of the display case. Then she reached in with one gloved hand and pointed.

“That right there, of course, is the famous trained bear that belonged to the reigning de Rolos,” she said. “Trinket, by name. You’ll see him in motifs across Whitestone even today.”

“Trinket,” Celia repeated wryly. “Whatever inspired that name for a bear?”

“We don’t actually know,” the specialist admitted. “Much of Vex’ahlia���s history before becoming Baroness remains vague. But the popular theory is that since her husband was so clever in crafting trinkets, the bear was nicknamed thus to prove he was one of her own.”

Ms. Ashe, who knew that that wasn’t the story at all, twisted her lips but kept her mouth shut.

“The building is a stylized representation of a de Rolo property,” the specialist went on, indicating architectural details and commenting over a few. “Back in the 9th century, it was a shop. Part of the economic renaissance of Whitestone after being reclaimed from the Briarwoods.”

“It was a bakery,” Ms. Ashe added, unable to help herself this time. “The Slayer’s Cake. You can see part of the logo on the sign.”

The specialist’s eyes lit up. “Good eyes. Yes, that’s the name we have on record.”

“Again with the strange titles,” Celia remarked. “Slaying cakes?”

Kiki felt like she had to reply. “It was a tongue-in-cheek reference to another guild. The Slayer’s Take. Still exists, but under a different name and very different regulations. They hunted a few things too close to extinction, so now they claim to be about responsible wildlife management and environmental stewardship.” She quirked an eyebrow. “I understand a druid or two nudged them in that direction.”

Celia sniffed. “The Green Coalition at work again. We’ve had debates with them about our mining operations.”

“I imagine you have,” Kiki said under her breath.

“So what was the connection between the Slayer’s Take and a bakery?” Celia asked.

“The bakery founders used to be members,” said the specialist. “It was something of a retirement venture, after they were done with the adventuring life.”

“Actually, they opened it slightly before they fought…” Kiki began, then shook her head and waved a hand. “But close enough.”

The specialist turned to her. “So you’re also a student of local history.”

“Something like. Just…long experience.” Kiki shrugged one shoulder and changed the topic. “But this clock. Anyone could make a clock themed around the city. Is there a maker’s mark to identify it?”

Celia nodded as if she also wanted to know. The specialist gently tilted the clock back to show the symbol on the base. “The mark is for the artisans’ society,” she said. “We have a chart of different iterations of this logo. This is the earliest, the one Lord de Rolo personally designed. It didn’t acquire the double border until the 850s.”

“Hmm,” Kiki said, studying the little symbol.

“Also, the way the figures move is very typical of his work. Let me show you.” She set it back down and delicately wound the clock.

Celia bent closer this time. Kiki, her attention caught, didn’t move. She just held her breath and waited as the gears turned and the hands realigned, and the figures began gradually to stir.

“Look here,” said the auction specialist, indicating the townspeople in motion. “The articulation is particularly clever. My favorite is the woman offering a pastry to the bear.”

Kiki whispered something that might have been a name, but no one else heard it. The clockwork bear, though, lifted his head and seemingly looked straight out through the glass at her.

“The scene’s all very prosaic, isn’t it,” Celia said. “You’re right, though; the craftsmanship is terribly clever. There’s familiar techniques here, actually. I’ve seen clockwork like this before. Might lend credence to a few theories.”

The bear took a polite sniff of the pastry. Kiki’s side glance was less friendly. “What sort of theories do you mean?”

“That there really were ideas exchanged between Mr. de Rolo and our company founder. Maybe even outright collaboration.” She paused. “Well. Our honorary founder, I should say. The original inventor of the rifles that we licensed and continued developing. Did I mention I work in weapons manufacturing?”

“You might have left that out,” Kiki said thinly. “Are you speaking of…”

Celia’s tone turned conspiratorial. “Dr. Anna Ripley,” she answered with a smile. “She may still be a controversial figure, but I’ve always found her fascinating. And I’ve studied both her works and those of her competitors for a very long time.”

The clock chimed, and the bird on the rooftop opened its beak in a warning caw. Kiki, struck dumb, distantly felt that it might have been laying on the dramatic irony a bit thick.

The specialist, who’d missed that exchange while listening to something over her earpiece, closed and locked the case before nodding to them both. “If you’ll excuse me, it seems I have another auction-goer to speak to. But it’s good to see your interest. If you have other questions, come find me. I’ll be here until the end of the afternoon.”

“Of course,” Celia said, smiling brightly. “Thank you.”

The specialist walked off. Celia, too, readied to go. She faced Kiki again, though, and gave her one more little smile. It was taking on distinct shades of a smirk. “I hope you understand my interest in this item now, at least.”

“I do,” Kiki said, her voice low.

“And if I might ask—because now I’m curious—what brought you here to bid on this?”

She thought about it. “History,” she said at last. “Legacy. And a certain personal interest.”

“Care to share what kind?”

Kiki met her gaze levelly. “No.”

Celia’s eyebrows lifted. Then she started to laugh. “Well. You’ll make for an interesting competitor after all. But I’ll warn you, the Whitburn Company coffers run deep.” She winked. “I’ll see you at the auction, Miss Ashe.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Kiki said, and watched Celia go. The woman’s heels clicked rhythmically on the stone floor, almost mechanical in their precision, and only slowly grew quieter until they were lost in the sound of the crowd.

Kiki let out a long, long breath when she was gone. She looked briefly at the guard, who didn’t react, then slowly returned to the case. He didn’t seem bothered when she pressed one hand to the glass for support, at least. And if he was listening when she murmured one last thing aloud, she found she didn’t care.

“Oh, buddy,” Keyleth said to the little clockwork bear. “This just got a lot more complicated.”

Trinket roared his agreement before slowly, slowly winding down, going silent and still once more.

[cherrypocky]

elaina memories

yeehaw! redo of my noncanon cr child memories! heehaw under the cut

origins are murky, i know that father (vax) was “saved” or “returned” but i am unsure what that means??? i have murky memories of being told the stories on how mother (keyleth) and father were reunited, but like it’s so far off. something i feel like i have a pretty firm grasp on is that he was still bound to the matron in some way as she was a big part of our lives. 

mother didn’t really like the matron; had some deep seated grudge there that i never understood. but she would send ravens a lot, i remember her presence to be firm and unending, but it was less like a villain and more like a force of nature. like an ocean, that would cradle you if respected. eventually, mother opened up to her in a more respectful, civil way.  

i was an only child, from what i remember. of course my cousins over in the de rolo family were like siblings. i lived in zephrah with just.. mother and father. called them mama and daddy when i was little, and mother and father as i got older. i was mostly taken care of by father, and i became a bit of a daddy’s girl. 

i was very pale, deathly so. it always seemed i had a foot in the grave, due to the matron’s presence in our lives. my skin was pale, my eyes were a dull blue, my hair was raven black. but i had plenty of freckles, and lots of sunshine in my personality. i was a rascal and a hyper tomboy, always getting messy and playing with animals and never listening to anyone. i was referred to as laina and ella by my families. 

i remember bits and pieces of my childhood, mostly sensory memories. the house was always warm and had lots of autumn tones. we had a large yard by a forest. father wore colorful beads in his hair that i loved to tug on and bite. we would visit aunt vex and uncle percy often, and as a teen i liked trying on fancy clothes and feeling pretty for a little while. 

in my early 20s, i left home, wanting to go on my own adventures. i kept my family a secret, not really wanting to be known as the champion and tempest’s daughter. i traveled with a few different groups, but my main squeeze was a human girl named celeste. we were around the same age, but she was much more street smart than i was, and i fell for her immediately. 

in my mid 20s (somewhere between 23-24), celeste and i got into trouble and were separated. we had been romantically together for some time, but i hadn’t really ever gotten to show her my home or my family, and really be fully upfront with her about it. i spent weeks looking for her, and i can’t remember....how or why, but i was being trailed, led into a trap. 

death/blood tw for the next bit.

i was killed pretty brutally by celeste’s kidnappers. after being beaten to a pulp in an outmatched fight, i was impaled through my chest. somehow father was told or knew that i was dying, and immediately came to my side and killed the one who had killed me. i remember being so relieved that someone in my vox machina family knew what had happened to me. 

i had fully planned on letting them revive me, until i was reunited with celeste by the matron in my brief period in the afterlife. she had been killed not long after we were separated, and my quest to find her had been for nothing. i didn’t want to leave her again, so i refused to go back to my body, much to my own heartbreak. i wished i could tell my family, because i knew they would understand. 

i petitioned the raven queen that now since she had me, to let my father go completely once and for all, and live out his entire mortal life that he deserved. i struck a deal with her to become her next champion, and to take over his duties and escort souls. she agreed, and i was allowed to return home one last time so that father could pass on the matron’s gifts to me. i was able to explain why i didn’t come back, and relay to my parents where celeste’s body was. they were upset and sad to see me go, but they understood. 

after that, i became somewhat of a chaotic and mischievous champion. i liked to hang out and watch the mortals in the world that i never got to explore, even watching a bit of what was left of the mighty nein’s journey and the aftermath. and sometimes when spirits were allowed to roam around, i came back and would visit my parents. and i guess? eventually i was the one to escort them with me to the afterlife.