#and perhaps he’s right for him-- he’s vaxxed his friends and family are probably all vaxxed and he can do promo again

[blorbologist]

📂📂

I think it's forgotten sometimes that Vax and Keyleth visit Whitestone fairly often during the timeskip! As Vax says, 'have-druid-will-travel', specifically citing 3-4 day weekends about once a month. Which is still a huge change for 'were never apart for long until the Slayer's Take trials' twins, but not the immediate complete separation some imply. Given Kiki is involved in the Slayer's Cake to some degree, it might be even more than that! I bring this up because, depending on when Vex and Percy eloped, that is a lot of time spent with your brother and best friend, respectively, without dropping that secret on their feet. Vex says there was never a good time - but was there, really, Vex? Not on any camping trips, or when Vax was poking through the book Percy lent him, or when your mother came up in conversation, or when it was just the two of you, exactly the same, except for the secret heavy in your heart? She absolutely realized Vax would be upset, and rightfully so, and had conflicted feelings between delight and shame and so bottled them up and only shared them when left with no choice. It's strikingly similar to how she confesses her love to Percy in the first place. (Percy, though, probably had zero fucking trouble keeping the secret to himself and very smugly too. He and Kiki can get high and he'll break out into giggles she assumes is because of the debate they were having, but nope! He just remembered he's married and it's secret and it's all theirs alone!)

I've brought up beforehand that I think (in light of Matt's perhaps-fumble perhaps-not with having Gwen, Wolfe and Leona be fairly young in C3) that there was probably a decade-ish gap between Vesper and the twins, during which the family unit was a lot more mobile and capable of short adventures as a result, right? Well, I think Percy and Vex would often make a conscious effort to include Keyleth in on it. If she had enough freedom to start a bakery and take weekend trips early in her career as Tempest, despite all the busywork that likely entailed, I think she could afford the time away to relax with her friends. Because by this point Vox Machina has split into family units: Percy, Vex and their baby in Whitestone; Grog, Scanlan and Pike in Westrunn (idk when they started having their kids tho)... and Keyleth, alone, in Zephrah. Sure, she can travel extremely easily, but it must still be incredibly isolating. Given Percy makes a point to get Cass out of Whitestone here and there, I suspect he does the same with Keyleth. Hell - it's probably him who started their little garden project in Whitestone, as an excuse to get her away from work and in the presence of someone she's not in charge of more often. He could totally handle Melanie's garden on his own (if with more effort than he'd care to admit), but... Keyleth needs small stakes, sometimes. Keyleth needs a friend - needs him. And Percy explicitly avoids politics as he ages, so he can be very familiar with Keyleth's worries and stressors while effectively dragging her away from them. Just two friends and a garden, without Vex and Vesper there to remind Keyleth of what she lost.

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

horrifying vm headcanon:

The briarwoods turn them all into vampires before the arc ends. Imagine how it would change everything.

Travelling at night

can Vax be the champion of the raven queen if he is already dead and undying?

Can Keyleth take on the mantle of VotT as a vampire? Given her powers are now from darker sources?

the chaos of trying to keep grog from just… walking into the sunshine because he's a strong guy and a little sunburn won't stop him and scanlan casting bigby's hand as an umbrella, etc

percy horrifying his sister by being one of their oppressors, unless she was also Gotten

Or perhaps he resisted hardest and she was used to covertly turn him

scanlan having to watch his daughter wither and age, passing as she curses him for once again finding a way to 'run' from her life as he tries to get her to accept his apologies…

vex and vax having their father scorn and deride them for 'falling even further from grace' for daring to not just be half-breeds, but now vampires as well

pike's crisis of faith as she seeks the everlight, but cannot connect to sarenrae because she burns her. how can she heal if it burns her to speak the name of her lady?

Vax and scanlan, the most known flirts, now second and third guessing any potential conquests' interest in them because they keep worrying that they might have used persuasion or charm by accident...

Grog occasionally forgetting he can't drink ale anymore, go in the sun, eat garlic or cross running water so he's onstantly bewildered by it and there's always a member of VM trying to keep him (un)alive.

Would Vex and Vax still have their sibling twin bond? If it can be severed by death?

Who would be first? Would they be used as a covert means to get others, on the orders of their 'sire'? Or as an example to the imprisoned others, of what was about to happen?

How many times would the temptation to drain a Big Bad Guy dry come over them? Would there come a time when they each gave in to temptation and killed by tearing someone apart, viciously, mercilessly, with a wild grin and blood spattering them?

How would they react after returning to their right minds? Does it take effort, now?

What logistics need to be worked out for a quest? What provisions can you take, when blood clots and even the freely given from friends and their fans, soils quickly? With the bag of holding unable to prevent time passing?

How many times does a person go missing, and one of VM ends up found bloddy, horrified and devastated with a corpse that must be... hidden away?

Does Trinket get bitten too?

Would they share around the blood taken? Staving off the desire to feed from nonvampires through biting one another in desperate times if only one of them has fed?

How many times would a dying ally and friend be in their arms, and they beg them to take the curse too?

How does each little death of friends and family fragment them internally?

How would orthax react to Pery's soul being kept from him forever through this clever little loophole?

[Would it be polymachina eventually as they realise they are the only ones who will always be there for one another?]

Could they still use airships if they crossed rivers or oceans in them? Like, we never had specifics about the running water thing in relation to airplanes or hot air balloons or their lovechild (airships)?

What spells now work on them?

Would they eventualy become what they once fought, or could they use their strong bonds to keep one another on the path of moralistic integrity?

How many friend, family, fans shun them now? Can they remain heroes of Eamon at Greyskull under the circumstances?

On the Good Side:

Badass VM who can face down anything but a holy cleric wielding a holy hand grenade.

Immortal trinket (maybe)

Keyleth gets some self-confidence, probably. Or is a vamp who just apologises for every little sip every time and it's endearing.

Vax and Vex could use their Charm to make Syldor do the hokey-pokey naked in front of the council, for various reasons.

Some of them can one-punch a dragon now.

[essayofthoughts]

vex 4, percy 9, or vesper 5?

Vex - 4: Angry Headcanon

Vex doesn't like to get angry. She's spent a large portion of her life working not to show her anger - she would get punished for it in Syngorn and so would Vax and it just wasn't worth it. So... she's had practice at not showing how angry she is, at tamping down on all of that emotion and refusing to let it out. It's almost easier when what she's angry about is herself: Syngorn taught her that she didn't matter, that her feelings didn't matter, that she should just grow up and get on with things regardless.

More often than not, when angry about something regarding herself, she only really registers it as tiredness, for a long time.

And then- then she gets reminded that she can be angry because she does matter. Because she's done phenomenal things and earned a huge amount of respect. That those who won't treat her with simple kindness, people who are happy for her to be angry as long as she behaves as they want - that they aren't worth her time.

She still tries not to lash out - but for the first time in years there's red crescents pressed into the palms of her hands from her nails.

Percy - 9: Childhood Headcanon

Percy wasn't great with people, growing up. He was pretty okay in formal situations, though he wasn't all that fond of them for some time - he liked that there were rules to obey, simple and easy to understand, that there were things you did say and things you didn't and that with the right words and the right tone of voice it was easy to get what you wanted.

He didn't like dealing with his siblings because they didn't operate on those same easy-to-understand principles.

It wasn't that he didn't love his siblings or his other relatives - he did. They were family and they were all he had as friends for some time. The noble houses down in Whitestone would have been cousins or cadet branches of the main line, the relatives from the Parchwoods likewise cousins of some kind, and it was with these he would have first been taught and played schoolyard games, and perhaps a few sessions of Bunions & Flagons.

Of course, Percy is good when rules are in play. It was easy enough for him to make a character incredibly overpowered - entirely within the rules! - and for his cousins to decide that they'd rather not play with him.

He likes to think that he was lucky - lucky he was smart enough to leave the usual classes with his cousins, lucky to learn more directly from Anders, lucky to be removed from regular schooling as his cleverness was noticed - but he does think he missed something, from not spending so much time with his peers. Perhaps he would have noticed more and been better at people if he had.

He had to learn people better after the Briarwoods - and he still got in trouble and hurt besides, for when someone with an accent such as his speaks even a little critically it can be easily taken as a terrible insult and without anything to defend him he was an easy target.

So he learned to be better at people - but he struggled to really be comfortable with people again until Vox Machina.

Also Percy absolutely had acne.

Vesper - 5: Fear Headcanon

When I asked if you meant Percy's sister Vesper or Percy's daughter Vesper you said that I could decide which and so I decide that I shall do both.

Vesper de Rolo (the Elder)

Vesper of all of Percy's siblings, was probably the most calmly confident, the most steady. She was someone who knew her worth and her skills and actively sought to further those: she knew what niche she would one day be expected to fill, supporting Julius' eventual rule of Whitestone until he married and his spouse was able to do so, leaving her free to do as she pleased, either taking on another, similar role, or marrying herself.

She knew what was expected of her, and was comfortable with what was expected of her, and while she was aware of the potential for horrible things, such as an attack or a rebellion or an overthrow, that torture and related violations could exist... she'd never really had cause to fear it. She'd never really had cause to fear much at all. Shapeless formless childhood nightmares at most - but she knew her skills and knew her role and was good at what she did. She was not the nervous sort to develop assorted anxieties or fears, she was not prone to phobias or sudden concerns.

She was not really prepared for the paralysing fear that took her when she and all the rest were put in the cells. One of the last things she wished before she died was that she'd been more present to offer comfort to her siblings.

Vesper Elaina de Rolo (the Younger)

This Vesper is not unlike her namesake in a lot of ways - rarely given cause to fear, aware of her skills and prepared to fulfil the likely role ahead of her and, indeed, training to better fulfil it. I think Vesper the younger is like her father in a lot of ways, with a deep sense of duty, and I highly doubt, despite the many people who might have it out for Vox Machina, that Percy, Vex, any of the others of Vox Machina, or any else around them, would let that fall on the children.

So, growing up, she has little cause to fear. There are, as with her namesake, nameless, formless, nightmare fears as a child, but largely growing up, she was too protected and comfortable and safe to really fear all that much in any lasting way that left a mark on her.

But that doesn't mean fear left no mark.

Her pale hair is striking, after all, and alike to her father's and no one is exactly sure why. She's no aasimar - she learned Celestial at Percy's knee, but it doesn't come naturally to her, and she has none of the celestial-guided dreams - but she does seem to be some kind of blessed. Vex attributes this to Pelor, to having carried Vesper through death and resurrection and taking the challenge to become Pelor's champion and Vesper is, once she's grown, inclined to agree. It makes sense, she feels, that she be some kind of planetouched after all of that, even if she is no true aasimar.

Percy doesn't know if it makes sense or is true, however. There is a part of him, very aware of how and why his hair went pale, that wonders if that death of Vex's left this lasting mark on their daughter. If his own marks of trauma left their daughter predisposed to this. If all else that they did - their trips to elemental planes (they made, after all, repeated ones to fire and at least one to water, as well as a trip to the Frostfell), to Elysium, yes, but also to Pandaemonium and the hells, if his own deals with Orthax and with Ipkesh-

Her father, Vesper thinks (Vesper knows as she grows) continually fears what impact his actions will have on her and her siblings.

She is glad, by the time that Gwendolyn is born, that her father has taken on Vex's belief - that it only matters as much as they let it matter, and that they will love all their children regardless.

She does not forget the fear, though, that continual concern of how past decisions will affect the future and one's family, and it is something she bears in mind as she goes to help her Aunt Cassandra and learn what she can about how Whitestone and it's Council work.

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

Sat 24 April ‘21

There were lots of pictures from Gigi’s cheese-themed birthday party last night in New York-- Zayn can be seen bringing her a cheese-wedge shaped cake and holding it while she blew out the candles, and the partygoers came outside into the pap zone to visit the grilled cheese food truck they hired to be out front of their building, so lots of pics from that very brief photo-op outing. Bella posted a cute (one might even say... cheesy??) pic of Zayn and Gigi snuggling from the party, and Zayn was papped again today, out in NY with PA Taryn. AND not only THAT, he popped in to not only a fan chat, but an AUDIO fan chat, to say hey! He says, “yo can yeh hear me?”, hey how’s it going, and okay then ttyl have a nice day, just in and out like that. No question: this man is up to something. New NIL single or something else, IDK, but Zayn never gives it away for free! Zomething is coming.

Also celebrating something today, Lewis Capaldi and a gang of other drunk rich dudes that include Niall. The large group can be seen in a video singing and cheering on a pub patio in London, and various folks there posted happy drinking-with-pals pics; IDK what they’re celebrating but from the looks of it, it’s the end of COVID, which is not going over at all well with fans! We know they reserved the whole place, and they’re probably all vaccinated, but it’s still Bending the Rules and the general reaction is unequivocal-- folks do not love to see it. And if that wasn’t enough, he may have unfollowed Ashe on instagram! Pissing fans off left and right today, that’s our Niall! He’s just chilling though, drinking with the gang and tweeting @ astronauts-- he posted “just incredible watching my great friend [Shane Kimbrough] commanding SpaceX dragon and docking on to the space station. Mind blowing that we spoke only last week on zoom and now he’s in space,” (that’s the guy that put Black and White on his ‘driving to the launch pad’ playlist the other day), and asked that we “please keep your fingers crossed” for Derby today. They need all the help they can get I’m sure, but not sure the fans wanna be asked to step up for you today Niall, the team may have to muddle through this one without those particular hopes and prayers.

[rainbowfoxes]

I can normally deal with people not reading the comics, because not everyone has the means to or even the desire to, and that's okay! The cartoons and a lot of the shows are great, and I can typically adjust to the different continuities being referenced quick enough.

But the one thing that gets me every time in fics written by people who aren't familiar with the comics is the timeline. It is always incredibly wonky and all over the place and just. Incorrect. Sometimes it makes me laugh, sometimes it makes me 🙃, and others I have to leave right now immediately.

So in the interest of saving myself (and perhaps others) a ???? reaction in the future, here is a (very) rough and non-exhaustive order of events for the Bat Clan. The time between these events are variable, but this is the general order of things.

Thomas and Martha Wayne are murdered

Bruce goes on his training trip

Bruce comes back and begins his whole I Am The Night shtick

The Grayson family is murdered

Bruce fosters Dick

Dick debuts as Robin

Justice League/ Super Friends/ whatever group is formed

Dick forms the Teen Titans with Donna, Garth, Roy, and Wally.

Dick leaves Gotham (either for college, or because of an argument with Bruce)

Sometimes more Titans things happen. They also break up at some point

Raven forms the second iteration of the Teen Titans to fight her father. The team is comprised of Dick, Raven, Donna, Wally, Kori, Gar, and Vic.

Jason steals the tires off the Batmobile, thwarts his own grandmother's attempts at robbing a museum, and is adopted by Bruce. He is also made Robin - Note that oftentimes Dick is still Robin at this time as well.

Babs gets shot by the Joker for her dad and Bruce's man pain. She becomes Oracle as a result.

Jason and Bruce have a fight, and Jason goes to find his biological mother.

Jason is betrayed by his supposed mother and murdered by the Joker.

Tim shows up and does his "Batman needs Robin" Thing.

Jason crawls himself out of his grave and promptly gets hit by a car. Don't worry, we'll check in with him later.

Tim's mom is murdered and his father left in a coma that he eventually recovers from.

Knightfall happens - Bane breaks Bruce's back, Jean-Paul Valley is Batman for a minute and so is Dick.

Contagion happens - some dumbass releases a super plague on the city but it's okay because they make a vaccine that everyone gets because it's 1996 and no one has given Jenny McCarthy the opportunity to start the Anti-Vax movement yet.

Legacy happens - It's break through cases this time but don't worry, they fix it because this is comic books and people have two braincells to rub together.

Dick goes to Blüdhaven!!! This is the big one for me tbh. Please stop putting him in the Blüd while Jason is alive, I beg of you. You're killing me.

Cataclysm happens - a massive earthquake hits Gotham, and it is Very Bad. The US government decides to abandon the city and kill anyone trying to leave or enter after a certain date. Because that's an entirely reasonable thing to do. This leads to.....

No Mans Land - the approximate year that the city was cut off from the rest of the country. Lots of shit happens during this time - Cassandra Cain debuts, Stephanie Brown has her baby, Tim goes to boarding school, Sarah Essen-Gordon dies. If there is the only one comic book arc you read, please let it be this one.

Bruce is framed for the murder of Vesper Fairchild - not really important in the grand scheme of things but I love Vesper and you should too.

Hush happens - basically Tommy Elliot has Problems and also Jason shows up but not really but yest really (hi thank you retcons). It's a thing. Read the wikipedia page it's actually very helpful.

Tim's dad finds out that he's Robin and forces him to retire.

The next couple of things happen right on top of each other so - Blockbuster sets fire to Haly's circus and blows up Dick's apartment building and a bunch of other bad things. Tarantula kills Blockbuster and rapes Dick while he's in shock.

Immediately afterwards War Games starts - Steph starts a gang war to prove her worth to Bruce, gets murdered but not really by Black Mask, it's a whole thing.

Side bar - why did no one warn me about Black Mask killing Orpheus - a Black vigilante - and then impersonating him with full Blackface? Everyone talks about what he did to Steph but I really think we need to talk about what he did to Orpheus. Also if you haven't read War Games yet, here are some accurate trigger warnings for it: blackface, sexualized murder of a teenaged girl, a school shooting where a child dies.

Tim comes back as Robin.

Under the Red Hood happens - Jason comes back to Gotham, kills some guys, tries to kill Tim, does his whole Thing. You've probably seen the movie but I also recommend you read the comics it's v good and every time I read Jason's final speech I start crying.

Damian shows up

Final Crisis happens and Bruce "dies" aka gets lost in time, so the boys duke it out over who gets to be Batman. Tim goes on his murder mystery tour. Jason goes to prison but not before adopting a weird little girl named Sasha. Dick is left with Batman.

Oops turns out Steph isn't dead she's back and she's Batgirl now and low-key co-parenting Damian with Dick. It's very cute.

Cass is off being Black Bat in Hong Kong and I miss her.

Bruce comes back, Tim is Vindicated, Jason escapes prison and rides off into the sunset with Sasha to go Cause Problems on Purpose. Dick steps down from Batman. Damian continues to be a murder baby and I love him.

And that's not nearly everything but close enough for fic writing purposes up until Flashpoint. I definitely missed things, so feel free to add on. I also again beg you - please stop putting Dick in the Blüd when Jason is still alive, it makes my blood pressure spike every time I see it. You're killing me guys. Pls.

[thought-42]

Fictober day 6: “that was impressive”

Critical Role,1461 words, vex, others. Mention of canonical minor character death. Part one of...more than one.

Vex'ahlia is not the sort of child to have imaginary friends. She grows up with her brother always at her side, with an attentive mother and the birds and rabbits in the woods as eager playmates. She never wants for company, and is only alone if she wishes to be. So, in the words of a frustrated, playing-at-adult Vax, it is 'fucking weird' that she's got four of them.

 She doesn't really remember ever being alone in her own head. They're not intrusive, and it's not as if they don't have lives of their own to lead, but if she wants someone to talk to there has always been a friend even nearer than her brother.

'I hate this,' she says, staring down at her notebook where she's scribbled a list of dates and names from history that she can't seem to keep straight. 'Why do we even have to learn this, anyway? They're all dead.'

'Those who ignore history are doomed to repeat it,' the Young Lord says, confidently. 'Or something like that.'

'How terrible for you, to have an education,' the Charmer says.

'Maybe try drawing pictures of all the people you have to remember,' the Princess offers. 'Give them funny hats.'

Vex blows out a frustrated breath and goes to find Vax so they can suffer together.

It's not that Vex thinks they're real people or anything. She's not a child. And perhaps it's indulgent to the point of stupidity to cling to such games as she gets older, but to leave them behind would feel ...wrong.

She tells Vax all about them when they're children, and he's delighted by the idea once he gets over his jealousy. He makes up people who live in his head, too, and for a while they spend their days gossiping about a whole network of acquaintances, like they're fancy merchants or royals in the city, calling on each other to sit around in a fancy parlour and drink tea while they update each other on the goings-on of all of their friends. But eventually, Vax's interest fades, and he forgets the people he's made up, moves on to other games.

'That's not actually how it works, you know,' the Young Lord tells her. 'It's not all fancy dress and tea parties.'

'Bullshit it's not,' says the Charmer.

'I mean... that is kind of how it works,' the Princess drawls, and Vex can hear the amusement in her voice.

When they're fourteen, Vax says he doesn't want to hear about her friends anymore. He tells her it's time to grow up. Says they'll have real problems soon enough.

'But I don't want you to grow up,' the Princess says, nervously. 'If I'm the only kid then it's just like everywhere else. You're the only other kid I know.'

'That seems...' the Young Lord doesn't finish his thought.

'Deeply fucked up,' the Charmer finishes it for him. Vex has to agree.

'Do you need help?' she asks.

The Princess laughs. 'Noooo, I am ok! My mama is just very protective because I am very special.'

Vex thinks of the stories she's read about Princesses in towers. 'Maybe start growing your hair out, just in case.'

'I have very weak arms, I'm not doing any climbing,' the Young Lord warns them.

'I don't get it,' the Princess says, uncertainly.

'How is that even-- no, no, I don't actually care, never mind.' The Charmer always seems a little baffled by all of them. Vex thinks maybe he's older, because he talks about stuff like politics and Agreements and resource acquisition like he really cares.

Vax kicks her hard in the shin, and she focuses back on him. "Ok," she says. "You're right. I won't talk about them anymore."

And she does try. She ignores the conversations that happen in the background of her mind, ignores the prodding and the concern and the confusion and even the hurt, when it comes.

'I have a new imaginary friend, and he's way cooler than you anyway,' the Princess announces.

'Just another distraction I didn't need in the first place,' says the Charmer.

The Young Lord never really stops. He still provides cutting commentary on the ridiculous things the upper class visitors to his castle do, and only slightly less vicious mockery of his own family. It's hilarious. Not that Vex is listening. She's beyond imaginary friends, and one day her mind will stop trying to hold on to old habits.

Six months later she wakes up because someone is screaming.

"Fax!" she says, before she's even opened her eyes, but her brother is still asleep across the room. She rushes through the halls to their father's door, but when she peeks in, careful and silent, he, too, is asleep. It's only when she's standing outside on the damp grass of the lawn, staring frantically out into the night that she realizes.

She's the last to understand.

'Fucking focus, can you tell what they are? Have you seen them in sunlight? Idiot, I know you're observant, fucking think!' She's never heard this much emotion in the Charmer's voice before.

'Run! Just run you've got to run and hide, I am going to ask The traveler to help you, ok, he'll make everything better!'

'What's happened?' Vex demands.

'They're all dead,' says the Young Lord, which is probably the least reassuring response she can possibly imagine. 'They're all dead. They're going to kill us next.'

'Run!' the Princess repeats, frantic and scared.

'Fire might work,' the Charmer snaps. 'Holy water. Do you have holy water? Castles have temples and shit, don't they?'

'We're already out of the castle,' the Young Lord says. 'But they'll find us.'

'Who?' Vex asks.

'We're going to die, just like the rest of them,' he says. 'I've never heard my mother scream before.'

The Princess whimpers. The Charmer swears.

Vex says, 'You're not going to die. Keep running. Don't look back, don't think about anything but surviving. You've got to get as far away as you can and then hide.'

'They've found us,' he says. 'My sister.'

'Run,' Vex repeats, forcing herself to stay calm and firm. 'Just keep running.'

She's fairly sure he's older than her, but at this moment she feels like she's trying to calm a sobbing child.

'No,' he says. 'No. No. No. Not her, too. I've got to go back.'

'No please don't!' the Princess cries.

'Keep fucking running,' the Charmer snarls.

'I can't leave my sister,' he says.

Vex thinks about her own brother, lying peaceful and safe inside, knows she would give up anything and everything including her own life to keep him safe. But Vex has never claimed to be a selfless person. 'There's nothing you can do for her,' she says, harshly. 'Just keep going.'

They all stay awake the rest of the night. The Charmer says the people who killed the Young Lord's family were a vampire and a necromancer.

'Fat lot of good that does me without access to our library,' the Young Lord says, snidely. Vex has never felt emotions from her friends before but she swears she can taste his grief at the back of her throat. She doesn't know if the numb feeling of shock is his too or if that's all her own.

*

A year goes by. They keep the Young Lord from completely spiralling out into the apathy of grief by nothing less than a fucking miracle. Vex doesn't talk to her brother about it, but he knows something is wrong.

The night they run away from their father is a long one. It's unseasonably cold, and she's been trembling with fear and anticipation all day.

'I'm going to try something,' the Charmer says. 'Things might be very different, soon.'

'Oh hey, me too,' Vex says, high-strung and forcing a cheer into her thoughts that she doesn't believe herself.

'Nobody die,' the Young Lord says, listlessly.

'That was impressive, you almost sounded like you care,' the Charmer says, dryly.

'Don't worry, darling, this is going to be great,' Vex says.

Vex and Vax don't sleep for 48 hours, the rush through the silent grounds, the alleyways and side streets of the city, eating stale bread from their packs under the shelter of an overhang in the early hours of the morning, laughing hysterically together, drunk on adrenaline and the slow realization that they've done it. If something dark brushes Vex's thoughts, it is rapidly brushed aside by her joy.

The Princess sleeps, and in the night a hand brushes hair from her forehead, a green cloak trails across the floor as someone keeps watch.

In the morning, the Young Lord says, 'I've just had an idea.'

In the morning, the Charmer says nothing.

In the morning, someone new speaks for the very first time.

'Empty.'

[araminia16]

Slow Growth (C7)

Chapter 6

She wasn’t avoiding him. Vax was sure of it. She still pressed next to him on the ship while they watched the sea waves in silence. She snuggled into his embrace at night like always and he got better. Better in the sense that he felt more steady now than he had when he saw the Raven Queen. When he was wrenched from her grasp by Pike and the love of his friends and family. By the second day at sea he felt restored to health. That night he pressed Keyleth down into the bed with eager playfulness and she obliged him with kisses but they lacked heat and passion. The only thing he could feel from her embrace was her constant love and adoration. It sobered him somewhat as he eased off of her and let her snuggle into his embrace as the boat rocked around them.

Back in Emon at Greyskull keep he tried again when they arrived home and pressed his lips to her neck and cheek eager to show her his affections and she pulled and directed him back up to her mouth while she stroked at his shoulders and arms. Stiffness accompanied his hands down her back instead of the soft relaxation he anticipated.

He pulled back and Keyleth made some excuse to leave the room. He didn’t hear what it was as he lay back against the headboard, confused and a little hurt.

Vax thought back to her timid, curious exploration in Vesrah. The heat in her gaze when she explored his exposed flesh and the excitement when she had him on his back in the bed. When she brought him off like he was some inexperienced boy. Her body language screamed her interest. Maybe his death had thrown her off? Nothing else had changed between them so that had to be it, right.

Keyleth entered the room again with a smile as she hopped into bed with him and laid her head on the dark spot on his chest to listen to the beat of his heart with a small smile. “I love you.” She whispered into his flesh.

“I love you too, Kiki.” He brought his palm up to stroke her hair and down her back and she accepted the touch. Her entire body relaxed into the bed while he petted her and still he tried to puzzle out the conundrum of Keyleth.

When they traveled to Zephrah and Keyleth accepted her new role as the Voice of the Tempest Vax had never been prouder of her. The way she stood tall and proud before the tree as it blossomed and the song that pulsed through the very earth he smiled and couldn’t wait to hold her again.

In fact it was Keyleth who pinned him to the doorway with a kiss that night and he couldn’t help the pulse of excitement as it rolled through him when she did so. He helped with eager hands to remove his armor and she kissed and kissed him while they stood together. Her lips pressed to the softer skin of his cheek and chin, down his throat and chest then back up again to his lips. She pulled the mantle off and her top set of armor but left on her underclothes and he made plans for their removal soon enough. Keyleth pressed a soft kiss to the bruise above his heart while bright eyes shone with love when she pulled him to the bed.

Keyleth needed to see him look at her again. To give her that look of rapture. His pale, deathly visage kept following her in her dreams and she wanted to replace it with his enjoyment. She wanted to chase away the chill of it with his warmth. With how beautiful he was when he reached his end. Nothing would ever compare to it.

So she pressed her lips to the flesh she could see and used gentle hands to stroke lean muscles. He pulled her up to him and tried to pull her shirt from her body but she palmed over the tented pants and he sucked in a sharp breath and released her. His distraction allowed her to move just out of his range as she pulled him free and went to work on him while he clenched his jaw to muffle his groans while he kicked his head back and forth in an effort to keep control. He could get lost in her. He was lost in her again while she bit her lip and watched him come apart with eager eyes. Each stroke and twist of her hand along his length brought him closer. He dug his heels into the bed and thrust into her curled hand with more choked moans. Eyes fluttered shut as he reached for her while his released barreled down on him. “Kiki.” He managed to bite out and she moved back to let him hold onto her when he curled into her and with sharp spasms released over her hand and the bed nearby.

When he felt able he released her from his needy embrace to relax into the bed. Just for a minute then he would pull her under him and pay her back for two orgasms in the best way.

Except... he didn’t. She stood and cleaned up what little of his release had made it onto his sensitive skin and her hand then the covers and stroked her fingers through his hair with devotion and pleased pride. When he reached for her after his heart stopped pounding in his chest she caught his hand and pressed a kiss to each knuckle. It lacked the heat she had minutes before and threw him off when she lay down to face him with her usual cheer and a goodnight kiss.

She found him attractive and desirable. The heat in her gaze, the possession, and love didn’t lie. He was certain she was incapable of deception on such a level. It baffled him how it seemed as if she was unconcerned with pleasure on her side. Maybe she was one of those who didn’t require it but there was no way he would let her continue to service him as if she were a prostitute without getting anything for herself. If she didn’t wish for her needs to be addressed then he wouldn’t let her do anything for him either. Perhaps she was afraid of getting pregnant when their lives were so unstable. He would have to ask her later. Definitely later.

There was little to worry about in Hell. Literal Hell. It was the one night where she didn’t sleep plastered to his body. They were as far apart as the could be from one another in the oppressive heat and neither of them slept well for it.

While they made their way through the prison he watched the monstrosity tower over Keyleth’s prone form as a widening blood pool stretched outward from her and his heart seized in his chest. Catastrophe avoided narrowly when they managed to achieve their goal and plane-shift from the prison with little time to spare.

Then drinks...and Trish the Dish taking Taryon for what Keyleth knew had to be sex. People just did that randomly with people they didn’t know. The whole concept sort of baffled her but it was fun and so she cheered them on with the rest of her friends.

“That was fun, wasn’t it?” Keyleth giggled through her drunken haze. “He looked a little scared and what kind of a weirdo is Percy anyway? Who would want to look in on that stuff? She’s going to probably hurt him a little. Tary’s such a delicate boy.” More giggles. She spun around and felt the room shift in a good way and then a really bad way as she collided with Vax.

“Hey. You are going to fall over you know.” He laughed and pulled her close to kiss her and she sunk into him languid and boneless while he dumbly helped her out of her armor. Normally dexterous fingers caught and fumbled on buckles and straps while she place sloppy kisses on him. Vax massaged her sides and rear while he undressed her and felt her lean into his touch while he managed to strip her down and kiss her sillier. Keyleth stumbled through is buckles and treated him to extended touches as well as they giggled and nuzzled foreheads. No god was going to take him from her.

Her bright, intoxicated smile and adorable ramblings while inebriated warmed him far more than the alcohol and he pulled her closer while he drifted off to sleep. Nothing to fucking do. Nothing at all.

Chapter 8 

[silver-lily-louise]

Hope (Critical Role, Vox Machina campaign - alternative events)

Post-102, ‘Race to the Tower’. An idea of how things might have progressed if the Raven Queen had refused, and Vax never came wandering back to his family in the Feywild.

~oOo~

Vax is gone, his body turned to dust, and his soul stands once more in the court of the Raven Queen. He pleads with Her to send him back - ‘My family is in danger,’ he says. ‘The world is in danger.’ But She has ever been a necessary force in the universe, not a kind one, and his duty is not to Exandria but to Her will. ‘I am sorry, my Champion,’ She says, and he’ll never know if She means it. ‘Some turns of fate are too brittle for even you to bend.’

***

In the Feywild, Vox Machina grieve.

Keyleth tells them that she has an idea, a way to possibly bring him back - but they don’t have twenty-five thousand gold’s worth of diamonds right now, nor do they have the means for Scanlan to create them. By the time they acquire all the materials and complete the ritual, it may be too late to stop Vecna doing something truly cataclysmic. So instead, they put aside their heartbreak, and swear to return to that plan once Vecna is defeated.

Vex plants a kiss on the Deathwalker’s Ward before it is consigned to the Bag of Holding, whispering a promise into the feathers. It’s not like he’s in there, Keyleth thinks - but although her anger is vast, it does not yet outweigh her kindness, and so she says nothing.

***

‘Vox Machina have returned,’ the guard says, and Taryon gets on his broom, hurtling from the castle down to the town itself and landing heavily in the street before his friends. ‘What happened?’ he asks, eyes darting between them all in a rushed headcount. ‘The necklace - I felt -’ He stops short as his brain catches up to his terrified heart, and he realises who’s missing.

Vex steps forward. ‘Darling, I know you wanted to return home,’ she says, and her eyes are a little shinier than normal, but her voice is steady and determined. ‘But this is worse than we thought. And we need your help.’

Once they return to the castle, the whole story of their venture to Thar Amphala is told, and Taryon’s fear grows with each word. For all his posturing and ego, he doesn’t feel like a hero at this moment, just a foolish child who went looking for adventure and is now in severe danger of biting off far more than he can chew. But he isn’t a child. He’s a member of Vox Machina, and right now his best friend is looking at him with a thousand worlds of pain in her eyes, asking his help.

He inhales as much courage as he can, and puts on his most dashing smile. ‘Well, it seems we have a new quest, friends. Now, we simply need a plan.’

***

Their plan feels haphazard as always, and their hearts are filled with vengeance, grief, and desperation. But they do what they can to gather strength and allies, and the days pass far too quickly for a team who already feel like they’re running out of time.

Somewhere along the way, Scanlan finds himself sitting alone, absentmindedly humming to himself and turning over the vial of Vax’s ashes in his hands. Even with all the time they’re putting into this preparation, all they’re risking for this, it’s hard to imagine that it’s going to be enough. ‘Definitely wouldn’t hurt to have one more champion on our side, though,’ he says quietly, staring down at the vial. ‘Wish we had a way to just bring you back already.’

Perhaps it’s the sheer depth of feeling behind those words, or perhaps it’s the recent blessing of the Knowing Mistress, but even as he speaks he can feel magic swirling within. Powerful magic, more than his usual fare - too much to contain, and even though he has no idea what’s going on right now his hand flies up on instinct to release it.

With a flash of white light, a huge glass boulder appears on the ground before him, and he yelps and jumps to his feet. ‘What the fuck?!’

A few seconds pass, and his heart hammers in his ears. He glances around, but there’s nowhere around him that this boulder could have come from - and besides, he knows where it came from, he felt the magic leave him and conjure it. He gingerly takes a step forward, putting his hand out to touch the cool, smooth surface. As he moves, the rock catches the light in a familiar way, and he gasps. It’s not glass, he realises. It’s the biggest fucking diamond he’s ever seen.

The pieces click into place. Wish we had a way to bring you back. They need diamond for the ritual, the one Keyleth was talking about - ‘Keyleth!’ he yells, as loud as he can. ‘Keyleth!’

The rest of the party come sprinting towards the sound of his voice, slowing in confusion when they see the rock before him. ‘Good gods, what is that?’, asks Percy. ‘It’s a diamond,’ Vex answers automatically, staring in bewilderment even as her keen treasurer’s eyes recognise the precious stone.

Scanlan laughs out loud, because her confirmation means he was right, means that this might work. ‘Yes, and I’d say it’s worth around twenty-five thousand gold, wouldn’t you, Vex?’ ‘I mean, with the size of it, probably-’ She cuts herself off, eyes widening, and Scanlan’s grin grows as he watches realisation dawn on the faces of the others, too.

We’re bringing him back.

***

The Raven Queen watches the golden glow dance before Her as the threads of Fate rearrange themselves. Wish, She thinks, shaking Her head. Changer of so many destinies. Strange that mortals should have such power. The threads twist further still, wrapping around each other like ivy and rising up - before they begin to fan out again, diverging and contorting like the branches of an ancient tree.

She hums thoughtfully as the glow fades from Her sight, then blinks, summoning Her Champion to Her side. ‘Do you hear them?’ She asks him.

His look of confusion shifts to one of pain and longing as he listens for a moment, the voices of his loved ones reaching him once again. ’I hear them,’ he says, voice barely above a whisper. ‘Why can I hear them?’ ‘Because they attempt to summon you back to their side. This is no idle chatter, but the sound of resurrection, Vax’ildan.’ He looks down, and She feels his hopeless grief. ‘They can’t. My body was destroyed - there’s nothing for me to go back to.’

She steps down towards him, falling into Her human shape. He does not know he can go back, She thinks. I could keep him here.

But the moment of temptation quickly fades. The threads have already been woven, and it is no foul parody of life his loved ones attempt to bring him into. His duty is to Her, but Hers is to Fate - and though it be through mortal voices and arcane power, Fate has spoken.

She reaches forward, gently lifting his chin until She can see the tears in his eyes. ‘You will return to me soon enough, my Champion,’ She murmurs, mostly as comfort to Herself. He seems to register what She says, but before the shock on his face even has time to bloom into joy, She kisses his forehead and he vanishes. Her regret is soothed by the silence of Fate around Her, disturbed but yet unbroken.

***

Vax rises. (Nothing is promised, but witnessing one miracle is enough to make them believe that they may be granted another. Perhaps we stand a chance, hope whispers in their hearts.)

Vecna falls. (It is not without cost, but battling nightmares has long since taught them how to repair and rebuild in the morning. If we are strong enough to defeat that, we are strong enough to fix ourselves, hope whispers in their hearts.)

(Hope is wiser than all the gods.)

~oOo~

[mollymauk-tieflief]

Man to Man

Percy was standing tall, his back straight as a rod, his hands clasped behind him. He was particularly formal, even more so than usual. If Grog and Vax had been there, they probably would have made jokes about something in his ass. They weren’t though there, in fact there was nobody there to make fun of him, not even Vex to smile to herself and admire him before cracking a joke to make him lighten up.

The only one there to see Percy more stiff than he had been in years was Trinket.

The large, brown bear was sitting down under the Sun Tree, sitting almost exactly where Vex had been sitting that morning. That thought alone set his heart racing all over again, but he focused back on the almost black eyes that watched Percy with an intelligence that took him a long time to get used to.

Percy was looking at Trinket as he would any equal, very few ever received such recognition and he hoped the bear understood that he meant it. “I know we don’t spend much one on one time together,” Percy realized that if anyone had told him years ago he would be talking to bear like this he would have assumed it was because he had a mental break. That was technically not wrong, but it was certainly not how he had expected his life to go. Which, he supposed, could be used to describe much of the last couple of years.

Trinket grunted and scratched at his stomach. Percy took it as a good sign, he had seen Trinket when he was not interested and that usually meant someone had to clean up after him. Percy straightened up even more, and took a single breath before he said, “I wanted to tall you that I asked your mother to marry me this morning.” He felt a rush go through him again.

           You could marry me, he’d said with a laugh. It’d been a joke. It’d been a passing comment about how they didn’t want to be like Vax and Keyleth.

           A slow smile formed on her lips, Don’t tease me, darling, I might say yes.

           They were sitting under the Sun Tree, taking in their city, their home, their new life together. It was calm, they had come out to see the sunrise because Percy insisted that there were few places more beautiful than underneath the Sun Tree watching the sun crest the mountains. Vex had to admit, he was right.

           If you think that scares me off you might want to think again, it was still a joke, but it wasn’t a lie. He had known for a long time, he could spend the rest of his life with her.

           I’ll do it, I’ll say yes and then we’ll be engaged and you won’t be able to back out. A teasing threat, but her heart was pounding and she couldn’t imagine being the first to back down.

           Engaged? You’re underestimating how quickly I can put together a wedding, dear. I can have us married by the end of the night. You could have people calling you Lady de Rolo before dinner if you’re not careful. It was true. And…well Percy hadn’t really thought about it much, he’d been so happy with the way things were that he hadn’t thought much about taking it farther. Now that it was out in the open…well it felt right.

           Don’t make a promise you can’t keep, she bit her bottom lip, the smile only growing as she thought about it. Percy. Her husband. A wedding in her home with the man she loved.

           All you have to do is say yes and I can get started right now.

           Yes.

           Both of them were silent, smiling at each other with bright eyes and a sudden swell of adrenaline. I’m going to do it. Right here at sunset there will be a wedding. It was still a warning, Percy was grinning and looking at her like he couldn’t believe that they were even talking about it.

           Do it then. I’ll be here in a lovely dress waiting for you. They fell quiet for a moment, soft smiles gracing their lips. She reached up to touch his cheek and Percy instinctively leaned into her hand. I mean it, Percy.

           We’re really doing this, aren’t we? He covered her hand with his and turned his head to kiss her palm.

           She didn’t exactly answer that question so much as pose one of her own. Marry me?

           Absolutely.

Trinket huffed and started to shift about, drawing Percy out of his memory. “It just sort of came out, if I had planned it I would have come to you first. Talked to you man to man,” man to bear technically, but Percy knew not to underestimate how human this bear truly was. “She wanted to tell you of course, but I asked her if I could.”

Trinket was standing at full height now, towering above even Percy, and looking down at him. Percy could see why so many people believed him to be a threat. Percy adjusted his shoulders and lifted his chin to look up at his fiancé’s bear. “I wanted to make sure that we were on the same page and I, well I know how important you are to Vex’ahlia and perhaps I could have been more upfront about it but you are important to me as well. I suppose I wanted to ask for your blessing. I love her,” his chest felt tight and full to bursting because gods he couldn’t think of her without being absolutely positive all of the love in the world was being contained inside of him, “I love her but I want you to know that—”

A long, rough, and disgustingly wet tongue went over the top of his head with a terrible slurping sound. Percy could feel the spit in his hair and knew that his hair had been flattened and slicked back at the top compared to the fluff over the rest of his head.

And then Trinket dropped back down to all fours and bumped his head into Percy’s chest. Percy raised his eyebrows in surprise, then smiled and scratched him behind the ears, and then said. “Come on, we have a lot of work to do to get everything ready by sunset.”

 Percy was standing under the Sun Tree, candles and ornate (though mismatched due to time constraints) torches lit up the square. Keeper Yennen was standing beside him, looking down at the pages in his hands and mumbling something under his breath, practicing or rewriting perhaps. It’s not like Percy had given him much time to prepare.

His sister was there, people who had been passing by and stopped to see what the Lord and Savior of Whitestone was doing with Keeper Yennen underneath the Sun Tree, dresses in his formal version of his dark blue travelling coat. It was obvious he was in the middle of something big and there were those who wanted to see what it was.

They had decided that this would be theirs, that it was for them and no one else and sure, one day they would tell their friends and the rest of their family, but at least for a little while…it was only theirs.

For a moment though, despite having asked her again a few hours ago, he wondered if she was going to show up. He had gone to her room, a sly grin on his lips, and he had told her once again that he was working on it and pretty soon she wouldn’t be able to back out. She had teasingly answered by telling him if he wasn’t ready he could just say so. And when he had assured her he was more than ready she shooed him out so that she could pick a dress and get ready.

Even so, as the sky began to shift to reds and oranges, Percy wondered if perhaps he had taken it too seriously. What if she really had meant it all as a joke?

Music began to play, nothing major just a few of the locals who could play. It was simple and anyone who had been walking by probably wouldn’t have assumed it was the wedding of two of the most important people of the city, but it filled the cooling air and Percy felt like he was on fire and frozen and above all like he was in love.

He turned his head to look over his shoulder and there she was, walking down the aisle with a huge brown bear at her side. She was wearing a navy dress, one he had always loved on her. The straps fell from her shoulders, the bodice had silver and gold moons, stars, and suns embroidered on it, and on this cool night she wore a cloak on her shoulders.

And she was breathtaking.

She smiled at him as she walked towards him, a bouquet of flowers in one hand and the other on Trinket. And he could see it in her eyes, the overwhelming weight of the love he felt for her that he was positive only he could ever feel? She knew it just as intimately.

Yennen said his words, Percy hoped that later he would remember them, but honestly the only thing in his entire world that night was Vex. Her face the only thing he could see, her perfume the only scent in the air, the sparks where her skin touched his the only thing he felt, the sound of her voice the only one he heard, and her lips the only thing he could taste.

They danced to the most beautiful music in the world, played by average musicians Percy had managed to scrap together last minute, and ate the most wonderful food the cooks had whipped together in record time, and they were married in the most beautiful place on earth, Whitestone at sunset.

---

Feel free to give me a kudos on ao3 if you want to show some love, username inadistantworld since I can’t link you guys to it anymore

[sockablock]

(WELP I spent all day writing this, Campaign 1 Soulmate AU, where your soulmate’s last words to you are written on your arm, I’m sorry in advance for any sadness or emotions, MAJOR C1 spoilers below, read on AO3, enjoy!)

----------------------------------

Their Last Words Are With Us

“They’re your soulmarks, dears,” their mother explained, kneeling by the side of the clear-running stream and running water over their tiny arms. “They’re special words that your soulmate will say to you, one day.”

“Soulmate?” Vax echoed as his sister inspected the faint scrawling on her arm. “What’s that?”

“Somebody very important to you,” Elaina said. “Someone who was meant to be by your side, always. As a friend, or as a wife or husband, who will always be there for you.”

“Like Vax?” Vex asked. “Is he mine?”

“Perhaps, dearest.”

“Who’s yours?” Vax asked. “Is it dad? Do you have his words?”

Elaina only hesitated slightly before smiling and saying, “It’s possible, dear. You never really know who the words belong to, until you do.”

Vax frowned slightly at that. “Huh?”

Vex held her arm out for her mother. “What do mine say, Mum?”

Elaina did not answer, instead grinned and poured water over both of the twins’ heads, distracting them and sending them into a fit of giggles and splashing.

Then she finished their baths, wrapped them up in the same old fabrics she always used, and led them back, one holding each hand, to their small home in Byroden.

-------------------------------------------

Vex’ahlia and Vax’ildan learned many things as they grew older. They learned to mend holes in shirts and how to thread a seam that would not show. They learned to coax seeds into the earth and when to water the tomatoes and how to strip away the potato skins and the names of the farmers and hunters that kindly stopped by to bring meat and grains to their small family. They learned, through trial and error, to strike stones together until sparks flew and to sprinkle dry grass and small twigs over the logs in the stone-lined pit to keep the flames going. They learned the names of the birds that lingered in the trees and dotted the fields. They learned to catch fish, giggling madly and stomping through the river the whole time, from the patient, grey-haired man that lived a few homes down. They learned to watch the clouds for rain, to bundle close to each other when the snow came, to stay brave during thunder and to drink in the sunlight under a sky that always felt like home.

But they did not learn to read. In their small, dirt-dusted, seldom-travelled village, living with their mother in a simple, one-room shack, there was no need. And with no way to know what their soulmarks said, eventually the bright curiosity faded away into occasional cursory glances, with the firm knowledge that, wherever it may be, their soulmates were out there somewhere. They were loved, and meant to be loved. And for the twins, raven-haired children gleefully running barefoot through the grass, as their mother looked on, that was enough.

-------------------------------------------

“Elaina never gave you any schooling at all?”

Syldor—their father—stood behind the beautifully-carved desk in his office, all high-windows and plush carpeting, rich green curtains pulled aside to reveal a gorgeous view of the bustling streets of Syngorn below. Warm light flooded into the room, and the sun shone brightly, but the temperature was cold under his icy tone, laced with disgust and disappointment.

They wanted to go home.

“She taught us a lot of things,” started Vax, “like how to count and how to sing and when to plant the—”

Syldor held up a hand, and Vax went silent. “But no arithmetic, no history, no geography, no etiquette?”

“No, father,” said Vex.

“Do you know how to read?”

The twins exchanged glances.

“No, father,” Vex said again.

He rubbed his temples with his thumbs. “Then you’ll start with private tutors, until you’ve caught up to your peers. I can’t have you interacting with other children until you have. This is ridiculous.”

-------------------------------------------

“A Treatise on the Advancement of Elven Culture,” read Vex, clearly enunciating her syllables. “Written by Onvyr Zalim, Senior Scholar of the Lyceum, 549 P.D.”

“Good,” said her tutor, nodding his head. “Your father will be pleased to hear of your progress. Now, here is the copy in Elvish, I want you to have read through this one by tomorrow, and we shall compare the two for quality.”

-------------------------------------------

“You know what it says now, right?” Vax asked one night after sneaking down the hall to his sister’s room and climbing onto the bed with her. “You’ve looked at it now, right?”

She nodded her head. Her eyes gleamed with excitement.

“Want to trade?” Vax asked. “You can read mine if I can read yours.”

“You’re in mine, I think,” she grinned, rolling up her sleeve. “Look.”

Vax pulled his arm free as well and brought it closer to his sister.

Under the moonlight, the curls of text across pale skin almost seemed to glow.

Vex grinned. “Aw, Scrawny, that’s so sweet.”

Vax tapped his sister’s arm. “Yours is as well,” he said, “but is it weird that they mention me too?”

Vex shrugged. “I plan on you bring a big part of my life, brother. I don’t think that’s strange at all. Maybe in the future you’ll be friends with them.”

“I’d better be,” grinned Vax. “Otherwise you’ve got to change soulmates.”

She rolled her eyes and shoved him out of the bed, and he lay on the floor giggling for some time before picking himself up.

“Good night, sister,” he smiled. “Don’t let the elves bite.”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

-------------------------------------------

They were dining together tonight, Syldor seated at the head of the table and the twins at his left and right, across from one another. He was pleased at their academic progress, he said, even surprised at how quickly they were learning. They tried not to take offense at that, even when he added, with stomach-curdling self-satisfaction, that it must have been his blood finally showing itself in the twins.

After that, the table grew relatively silent, until Vex steeled herself and took a deep breath.

“Father,” she asked tentatively, “do you have a soulmark?”

He was silent for a moment. Then he gave a slight nod. “I do.”

“Could we know what it says?” she asked. “Is it…is it words our mother said to you?”

He sighed deeply. “I doubt it, Vex’ahlia. She never spoke elvish to me before. And, regardless, I would not know if they belonged to her until I died.”

Vax inhaled sharply, almost choking on his dinner. “What?” he asked. “What does that mean, father?”

Syldor put his fork down and gave both twins an incredulous look. “Did Elaina teach you nothing?”

They bristled at that comment, a common one in this household. Vax’s grip on his knife tightened.

Under the table, Vex kicked her brother and shook her head.

“No, father,” she said. “What is it?”

He met her curious gaze. “Soulmarks are words your fated will speak to you, you both know that, correct?”

They nodded.

“Do you know when those words will be spoken?”

-------------------------------------------

Vax collapsed onto the mattress next to his sister.

“It doesn’t have to mean that,” he said sternly. “Maybe they didn’t know it would be…it would be the end, and something happened on their way to see me.”

Vex sniffled, and wiped at the edges of her eyes. “I don’t think so, Vax. I’m…I think it does mean—”

He shook his head adamantly. “No way,” he said. “Not possible.”

Then he pressed his forehead to hers and said, “I promise, that’s not it. We’re going to get old and grey together, and we’ll always be the same age except I’m still gonna be two minutes older. That’s that, alright?”

Vex sniffed again, and tried for a smile. “Alright, brother. Alright.”

-------------------------------------------

After he left, she traced the scrawl on her arm with her finger.

I love you too, Vex’ahlia. I’ll tell your brother you said hello.

-------------------------------------------

One of the girls scoffed, her nose flaring and prim lips forming a smirk, and Vex instantly pulled her sleeve down.

“It’s not even in elvish,” the girl laughed, turning to the others. “I bet your soulmate isn’t even an elf.”

“They are,” Vex said defensively, cheeks coloring, “They are.”

“I bet he’s probably some stupid round-ear, from that dinky little town you grew up in,” giggled another. “I bet he’s poor and ugly.”

“Of course he’d be ugly,” said another, “if he’s a human.”

Vex fought for something to say. And when nothing came, she got up from the stone bench and ran to find her brother.

-------------------------------------------

“Humans’re better anyway,” said Vax loyally, hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. “Who’d want a stuffy, boring, dumb elf for a soulmate?”

They sat on one of the rooftops of the market district, watching people far below mill about under the colorful tent-tops and hanging flags and draped silks that adorned the streets. From this far up, they all looked like ants.

Vex nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “I hate this stupid city. I wish I could get out and run away and we could find our soulmates together.”

“Maybe they’ll be half-elves like us,” Vax suggested. “Maybe they’ll hate their dads just as much.”

Vex smiled. “I don’t think anyone could hate their dad as much as we do.”

He laughed. “You’re right, Stubby. That’s a good point.” Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a carefully-wrapped square, that instantly filled the air with a warm, sweet smell.

“Look what I stole today,” he said. “Here, try some, I got it for us to share.”

-------------------------------------------

Vex came back from the forest with leaves in her hair, mud on her boots.

“I’ve found the perfect path,” she said excitedly. “Did you get the weapons?”

Vax stepped away from the bed, revealing a polished wooden bow and a set of daggers. “Teachers didn’t see a thing,” he grinned, then held up a small leather pouch, jingling softly. “And Syldor didn’t see me slip into that dumb office of his either.”

She stifled a laugh. “Great. I can’t wait to get out of this fucking place.”

He picked up a dagger. “You’re in charge now, Stubby,” he said. “I don’t remember shit about living in the woods.”

-------------------------------------------

Years passed. Vox Machina, formerly known as the S.H.I.T.S., sat around a campfire somewhere on the outskirts of Whitestone, just because they could. Tomorrow they would head back to Emon, after receiving news that Sovereign Uriel would be giving an important speech in the Cloudtop District for all to attend. But, for tonight, they were camping out in the northeastern woods, just because they could.

“Even though we have a perfectly good castle, just a few miles away,” Scanlan added as he plucked idly at his lute. “Even though Percy is the Lord of Whitestone, and we just finished freeing the town from subjugation and we’re huge heroes.”

“I needed time away from there for a bit,” Percy sighed, leaning against a log. “It was too much, all at once.”

“I was only there at the end,” agreed Pike, glowing slightly in her astral form, “but it seemed pretty intense.”

“I like sleeping outside,” Grog said. “Beds never fit me right.”

“If I could make a mansion,” Scanlan grinned, waving his hands around, “I’d make you the biggest room imaginable, with the biggest bed there was. Well, maybe second-biggest room, and second-biggest bed.”

“Thanks, Scanlan.”

Keyleth idly let flames curl around her fingers, and every once in a while, would flick a spark towards the campfire. “It’s nice not having to go anywhere and do anything,” she said cheerfully. “And it’s always good to be in nature.”

Vax nodded. He was giving her small, sideways glances that Vex, perceptive as ever, absolutely noticed. A bit of inspiration hit her.

“Hey,” she said, “we’ve all known each other for a while, right?”

They all exchanged looks.

“Yes?” Scanlan agreed. “That’s true.”

She grinned enthusiastically. “So, you know what would be fun? Why don’t we all tell each other what our soulmarks say? Wouldn’t that be interesting?”

“Er…why?” Vax asked. “Why would we do that?”

Vex rolled her eyes. “We’re like a family now! And it would a good way to learn more about each other! Of course, we don’t have to if we don’t want to.”

Keyleth shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know, Vex. Those…those are the last words your soulmate will say to you. Isn’t…isn’t that kind of personal?”

Pike nodded, and now Scanlan’s eyes turned to her.

Vex’s shoulders sagged. “Alright,” she sighed. “It was just a suggestion. Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” said Percy quickly. “Perhaps some other time? We’re all a bit worn out from the whole…rebellion, and all.” And then, with a small spark of hope at the edge of his tone, he added, “But really. Some…some other time might be nice.”

“I don’t know what mine says,” shrugged Grog from his spot on the log next to Pike. “Can’t read.”

There was a brief silence, as they digested that. Both Vex and Vax felt an odd ping of kinship.

“Do you want someone to read it for you?” Keyleth asked. “Is it in Common?”

He shook his head. “Nope, ‘s in Giant.”

Pike smiled and gave him a pat on the arm. “I’ve asked before too,” she said. “He’d rather not know.”

“Goliaths don’t really care about that sort of thing,” he said. “As long as you’ve got your herd or…or your family, or whatever, it doesn’t matter. You need more than one person in your life, right? There’s always gonna be a lotta people important to you, right? So who cares if one of them is there ‘cause of fate, and destiny and stuff. Sure, they’re special, or whatever, but they’re not the only ones.”

Another moment of silence.

“Well,” said Scanlan, leaning over and giving Grog a pat on the knee, “again, somehow, you’ve proved you’re the wisest of us all, and I’m not even sure you realize why.”

The hulking barbarian grinned back at him. “It’s m’ charm,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’m just amazing.”

-------------------------------------------

A few hours later, the girls sat together on the ground in Vex’s tent.

“I just really didn’t want to do it with the guys around,” Keyleth said sheepishly. “But I want to show you two. If…if you both want to also.”

“I do,” said Pike. “Definitely.”

“Same here,” grinned Vex. “Ready?”

They both nodded, and as one, all three pulled their sleeves up and brought their arms together.

There was a pause, as they all read one another’s marks.

Pike spoke first. “That’s…very sweet, Vex.” She smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Have you shown it to your brother before?”

She nodded. “But don’t worry,” she added quickly, “it’s not anything to worry about. We made a promise to one another, you know? We’ll be together always.”

Keyleth gave her painfully optimistic pat on the shoulder. “Of course,” she agreed. “And besides, we’ve got the best cleric in the world. She’ll always heal us.”

Pike’s smile grew cheeky, and she stuck her thumb out. “Definitely,” she said.

Vex grinned, and looked back at the writing on Pike’s arm. “Well, at least we know one thing, now.”

“Oh?” Keyleth asked.

“Yes! We know that Pike’s soulmate definitely isn’t Scanlan. If it was, darling, you’d have a novella on your arm. Not just a sentence.”

Pike laughed. “That’s a good point,” she said. “It’d probably cover my whole body, if it were him.”

-------------------------------------------

“Our lives are fucking awful,” Vax sighed as his fingers worked through his sister’s hair. On the ground next to them rested three bright blue feathers.

“At least we are alive,” Vex pointed out. “Unlike…unlike a lot of people back h—in Emon.”

“I was starting to think of it as home too,” he said softly. “It’s…it’s been a long time since we’ve had somewhere to call home. And now it’s gone.”

Vex bit her lip. She could feel her brother beginning to sink, and she quickly reached a hand back, and wiggled her fingers. He paused in his braiding, and took it.

“I love you, brother,” she said, staring forwards. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

A small smile crept across his face. “I love you too, sis. I’m glad you’re here too.”

“This time it’s different. We have each other, and Vox Machina.”

“That’s true,” he said.

“And you’ve got Keyleth, now, don’t you?”

His grip loosened slightly. “I…I’m not sure if I do. She says…she says she loves me, but she’s worried about getting attached. She’s going through a lot right now, and there’s still her Aramente, and now the world is falling apart around us.”

“But she still loves you, right?”

“Well, yes—”

“Are you going to wait for her?”

“Well…yes.”

Vex squeezed his hand. “I’ll be here while you do then,” she said. “And once she sorts herself out and realizes she needs you, I’ll still be here.”

He squeezed back. “Alright,” he said. “Alright.”

She let go, and then grinned and said, “Come now, get back to work. My hair isn’t going to look amazing by itself.”

He laughed, and pulled gently on the braid. “You’re lucky you’re related to me,” he quipped. “Otherwise I’d never help someone as bossy as you.”

-------------------------------------------

“It’s called the Deathwalker’s Ward,” said Vex, pointing to the spot in her journal where she’d written it down. “It’s in some kind of swampy, lake area, near Vasselheim.”

“Great,” sighed Scanlan. “More camping.”

-------------------------------------------

“What happened? I was only down there for thirty seconds—”

“There, there was a trap, the armor was trapped—”

“The healing potion isn’t working, it’s not working—”

“Kashaw, can you do anything—”

“Fuck, fuck, I…”

“Percival, what happened—”

“Kashaw—”

“I-I can bring her back. I can raise the dead.”

-------------------------------------------

Later that night, Percy gazed at the words curling down his arm and thought back to the last thing Vex had said before…before.

She had smiled, radiant despite the gloom and darkness of the underwater tomb. She had been chuckling, not unkindly, at the sight of a surly, halfling woman clambering out from one of the pits.

All good, Kima!

He traced a finger over his skin. Did this mean she wasn’t his soulmate? Or did the words know she wouldn’t have been dead for long? He sighed, and shook his head. He needed to do more research on this.

-------------------------------------------

"I really am sorry, Shaun."

Gilmore gave him a sad smile. "I know you are, Vax'ildan. I am too."

"You are a beautiful, wonderful, hilarious, glorious arcane bastard. You'll find your soulmate, and he will be the most fortunate man in the world."

"Thank you, Vax. I must say, your soulmate is a rather lucky individual as well."

He pulled Gilmore into a hug. "Not as lucky as yours," he assured. "Nowhere near as lucky."

-------------------------------------------

“Percy, have you got any more of those exploding arrows for me?”

“Of course, Lady Vex’ahlia. I always have a supply on hand for my favorite Baroness.”

She grinned. “You flatter me. Am I your favorite only because we killed the rest of Whitestone’s nobility?”

“Well, technically, I suppose. But even if we hadn’t, you’d still be my favorite.”

-------------------------------------------

Vax put his hands in his head and sighed. Next to him, sitting on the bed, Keyleth watched the turmoil storming behind his eyes.

“I know,” he began, “I know with all that’s happened, between my new patron and my sister pretending to gag literally every time we attempt to share a word together, and mostly my own being fucked up in the head for weeks now, that I’ve pushed all of you away. You most of all.”

Then he turned, and met her gaze. There were tears at the corners of his eyes.

“You didn’t deserve any of that. Keyleth, I need you to know, through all of that, everything, nothing has changed about how I…” He trailed off, but then forced himself to continue. “We’ve had so many near-misses. Death is unavoidable. And it’s all the more reason for life to be lived. And it doesn’t matter to me what this is. What we call it. If you are willing to spend some time, any time, with me, then I will simply count myself lucky to have it.”

Keyleth reached over, and took his hand, never breaking eye contact. “It’s…it’s not like I’ve made myself very accessible either,” she admitted. “It’s on both of us. For…for the longest time, I was terrified that I was going to lose you. First to death, and then to the Raven Queen—which is still kind of like death—and then ultimately to yourself.”

Then she took his other hand, and squeezed them both gently. There was a smile creeping across her face. “And then…and then recently, I had an interesting talk with Pike,” Keyleth said, “and she told me something that really stood out to me. It was that some people…just have more of themselves to give. And I realized this whole time that I was afraid of losing you to a future that ultimately has not yet been written, which is stupid.”

“Maybe so,” Vax began softly, but Keyleth shook her head.

“Ultimately, you’re right.” she said firmly. “We have nothing to lose. I love you, Vax. And I’m sorry for being me, that it took me this long to say it.”

Vax sniffled. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Keyleth laughed. There were tears in her eyes. “Yeah. Me too.”

“I love you, though. That’s pretty fucking great.”

She lifted a hand up, still laughing. “That is pretty great, yeah! High five! Yeah!”

And Vax gave her a high five, and then tackled her onto the mattress, now both of them laughing like idiots and grinning madly and giggling every time they accidentally bumped into one another, or clumsily hit elbows together.

And later, that morning, as the light filtered in through their window, they traced the markings on each other’s forearms and smiled.

“I love you, Keyleth of the Air Ashari,” read Vax, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

She smiled softly, and tapped his arm. “I love you, Vax’ildan. I’ll…” and her voice broke slightly, but she shook her head and continued, “…I’ll see you again.”

-------------------------------------------

“Oh, I love being this high up in the air!”

Vex leaned over the railing of the airship they had chartered, now soaring above the vast expanse of gleaming, deep-blue water far below, the rippling and sparkling surface of the Ozmit Sea.

Percy, standing next to her, smiled. “Is it better than a broom?” he asked.

She turned to face him, and her braid flew behind her in the wind. She glowed in the warm sunlight.

“It is, darling,” she laughed. “I love my broom, but it’s much better.”

Percy nodded, and turned back to look over the railing at the clouds beyond. “I’m going to install an airship port in Whitestone,” he said.

-------------------------------------------

Glintshore came and went, and in the smoking aftermath of the battle—shrapnel scattered across the scorched crater and corpses dotting the landscape and Kynan shaking on the ground and Ripley’s eviscerated flesh painting the dirt crimson—Vox Machina gathered around the limp form of Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski De Rolo III, bullet wounds no longer bleeding, breath gone from his chest.

Vax and Pike were the closest, the Champion of Death and the Cleric of Sarenrae carefully examining his body for any possible signs of life, and mulling over the next course of action. Vex and Keyleth watched on, and Scanlan and Grog romped through the background, making sure the hired mercenaries were finished, and giving the rest room to work and to grieve.

Then Vax turned around, and gently asked his sister, “Vex’ahlia, what were your last words to him?”

She blinked, tears still streaming down her face. “I don’t, I don’t know, I don’t remember.”

He tried again. “Did you tell him that you’ll miss him?”

She frowned, confusion beginning to creep in. “No? I, no, I never said that.”

He nodded, and now his expression was firm. “Percy’s not dead for good,” he said adamantly. “Not for good. We’ll be able to bring him back.”

“What makes you—” Scanlan began.

And then realization hit. They all stood in silence for a moment.

“You read it,” breathed Keyleth, and Vax nodded.

“You don’t know for sure,” Vex whispered. “You don’t know for sure.”

“I don’t,” Vax agreed, “but I’m pretty damn certain.”

“Let’s get him into the mansion,” Pike said softly. “We can rest, and get our spells back, and we’ll do the ritual tomorrow.”

-------------------------------------------

“I should have told you. It’s yours.”

-------------------------------------------

“Percival, would you like to see my soulmark?”

Percy blinked a few times, and turned around to face her. Vex’s skin was pale in the moonlight, her eyes anxious but hopeful. He reached for the beside table and pulled his glasses over, and they both shifted into an upright position.

“Do…do you truly wish to show me?” he asked.

She nodded. “I…I think it might belong to you. I want you to.”

He smiled faintly. “You know, I’ve always hoped mine belonged to you as well. Would you…?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “I would.”

They pressed their arms together, words towards the sky.

“I love you, darling,” read Vex softly. “I’ll miss you.”

Percy traced the text on her arm with a gentle finger. “I love you too, Vex’ahlia,” he read. “I’ll…oh. I’ll tell your brother you said hello.”

He met her gaze. “Vex,” he said softly.

She shook her head. “No, no, darling. Believe me, we’ve talked about it plenty before, but no. If anything, you should watch yourself any time you go off to visit him alone, understood?”

He laughed quietly. “Alright, alright. Of course.”

She smiled, and leaned in for a kiss. Their eyes were closed, so neither of them could see the worry written across Percy’s face, or the desperate denial on Vex’s.

-------------------------------------------

“He really is gone,” Pike sighed, looking down at the ground.

Vex put an arm across her shoulder. “He…I know Scanlan will be back,” she said. “I think he just needs time alone.”

“I…I was just starting to think…”

The little gnome shook her head. “Nevermind,” she said. “Never…nevermind.”

-------------------------------------------

“Oh, no,” said Taryon, waving his mug jovially and shaking his head. “No, I’m not doing that again.”

“Alright,” said Grog with a careless shrug. “Alright, fine. That means more ladies for me. You want me to find you a guy, or something?”

Taryon considered this proposal. Then he looked up at the large mountain of a man, eyebrow raised and tattoos dark against his grey skin.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” Tary asked.

Grog’s other eyebrow went up. “What? What does that have to do with anything?”

Tary sighed, and shook his head again. “Nevermind,” he said. “Just…just go have fun for the both of us, how about that?”

Grog grinned. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah, that sounds like somethin’ I could do.”

-------------------------------------------

“Zephra is beautiful in the autumn,” smiled Vax as he watched Keyleth’s hair blow in the breeze. She was standing in a clearing, leaves tumbling around her. “I can’t wait to spend the next hundred autumns here with you.”

She reached out with a hand to where he was sitting in the grass, and pulled him up to join her. “More than a hundred,” she said firmly. “Half-elves live a long time, and we’re retired now, right?”

He laughed, and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Sure, Kiki. Right now, we’re retired.”

-------------------------------------------

"Do any of us actually know how to run a bakery?"

"Didn't you say it's all about getting experience?" Taryon asked. "It's like a new adventure! One that we will all be inexperienced in, at the beginning."

"I can sort of bake," said Pike. "Sort of."

"Most of us, then," Taryon corrected. "Do we have a name, yet?"

-------------------------------------------

“And do you, Vex’ahlia Vessar, take this man to be your husband?”

In the silence of night, with only quiet chirping of crickets and the rustling of the wind through the leaves of the Sun Tree, Keeper Yennen’s voice sang strong and bright.

Vex’ahlia’s heart soared.

“I do.”

-------------------------------------------

One day, a tall, dark-skinned man from Ank’harel came to visit with a lanky, half-orc bard-barian in tow.

Their retirement ended.

-------------------------------------------

There was a knock, so Scanlan fastened his silk, royal-purple robe, put on his most charming smile, and with a flick of his wrist, the door to his room swung open, to reveal Pike.

A million lines, ranging from I don’t remember asking for an angel, to why, isn’t this a pleasant surprise, to oh, I see Ioun has answered my prayers after all, to aren’t I a lucky gnome tonight?

He managed to hold all of them back and instead gave her a small grin. “Hi, Pike. What’s up?”

She closed the door behind her, and took a step forwards.

“Hey, Scanlan. I was wondering if I could ask you a question.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Well, don’t be a stranger, come and sit down, ask away.” He motioned towards the velvet couch by his fireplace, and they both took a seat.

“Scanlan, what does your soulmark say?”

He balked. This wasn’t exactly unfamiliar territory, since soulmates was a rather rich vein for pickup lines and for hitting on people in bars. But this—seated before a warm fire with Pike sitting not too close, but also not too far away—was nothing he could ever anticipated.

“Uh…well…why do you want to know?”

“I was just wondering,” Pike said with suspiciously carefree nonchalance. “If you don’t want to show me, I totally get it—”

He pulled down the sleeve of his robe, and her eyes instantly trained in on the words.

“It’s gnomish,” she said, slightly surprised.

He shrugged, and gave her a grin. “I’d like to think it’s honoring my humble roots,” he said.

“Can…can I read it out loud?”

“Of course.”

“Stop it, Scanlan. Take all the time you need.”

She bit her lip, and traced the words slowly. It sent a strange tingling up Scanlan’s arm.

“Interesting, isn’t it?” he asked, defaulting in the face of uncertainty to what he knew best: talking. “I mean, I’ve always wondered what I might have said to the other person to get them to respond with that, or what they mean with take all the time you need, but you can never be sure, right? Anyways, I think it’s the universe’s personal laugh that I’ve also got Stop it, Scanlan written on my arm, you’ve got to admit that’s pretty funny…”

He trailed off as Pike stood up.

“Thanks, Scanlan,” she said, slightly strained. “I…I appreciate you showing it to me. I’m going to bed now.”

She started walking out of the room.

“Wait, Pikey, is everything alright? Are…are you alright?”

She turned, just before the door, and gave him a smile. “I’m okay,” she said lightly. "Don’t worry, Scanlan, I’m okay.”

She closed the door behind her, and Scanlan was left staring at the elegant woodwork in the silence. He turned back around, and lay down on the couch. Eventually, tracing his arm where Pike’s finger had been and wondering idly what she had been thinking, he fell asleep next to the crackling fire.

-------------------------------------------

“Are you all ready to go?” Percy asked. “I…I’m not sure what we’ll find on the other end, or how we’ll be getting back.”

“I’m ready,” said Grog. “I wanna go kill those creepy culty fucks.”

Vax grinned. “I agree with the big man,” he said. “They’ve got it coming.”

“Ready,” said Keyleth, gripping the Spire in her hands.

“As I’ll ever be,” said Scanlan, shooting a wink that Pike and Grog, recently apologized to, grinned at.

“Let’s go, darling,” said Vex. “It’s time.”

-------------------------------------------

Vax was dead.

And then he wasn’t.

-------------------------------------------

“I can’t help but hate her,” Keyleth shook her head, face buried in Vax’s chest as they lay together on the bed of their room in Scanlan’s Magnificent Mansion.

“I know,” Vax sighed. “I know.”

“It’s just…It’s just not fair. It’s not fair. You’re my soulmate, Vax. We were only going to have a hundred years together. And now…and now…”

“I know,” he said again, stroking her hair. “I’m sorry.”

“I hate her,” sobbed Keyleth. “I hate her.”

-------------------------------------------

In the other room, down the hall, Vex rubbed at her eyes.

“He’s my brother,” she said.

“Yes,” Percy said back.

“He…if we’re successful, he won’t live past this year.”

“Yes.”

“And if we aren’t, the world will end.”

“Yes.”

“I want to world to end,” she whispered. “I don’t want to live in a world without him.”

Percy put a hand on her back, and when she began to cry, he pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry, Vex. I’m sorry.”

“It was right there,” she breathed between sobs, wanting to choke on her own words. “It was right there, in my stupid soulmark. It was right there, all along. He was going to die first. And then…and then you would, and you would see him for me.”

Percy nodded. His own body was starting to shake as well.

“We knew that I wouldn’t live as long as you,” he tried. “I’m human.”

“I know,” she said, “I know. But I wish you weren’t. And I wish Vax wasn’t going to die either.”

-------------------------------------------

“And…And I’m going to miss you. I’ll be gone soon. I don’t even know if we have time. A lot of us could be dead soon, but I’m not offering you this thing, but I’m offering you an experience.”

There was a long pause.

“I don’t know a lot of big words, but I feel like I need a little bit of clar-if-ication.”

“I don’t know if we have time for this, but maybe, for old time’s sake, because I love you and I know you love me and we share this in common—”

“—yep, definitely—”

“—I thought maybe we could prank Scanlan together.”

-------------------------------------------

The day came. And from somewhere within the dark city of Thar Amphala, lurching from the movement of the terrible, enormous body that carried it, they all linked hands and closed their eyes and nodded.

And then they began to climb.

-------------------------------------------

Scanlan, the tiny gnome bard perched up, thousands and thousands of feet in the air, held aloft by nothing but the shimmering, translucent purple form of Bigby’s Hand, made of pure arcana and here by his own force of will, looked up at Vecna, the Ascended as the sickly green swirl of a teleportation spell began to creep around the emaciated, bloodied avatar of the new god.

Scanlan raised a finger, eyes dark and cold. 

“This was going to save Vax,” he said, and fired off a Counterspell that, for once, was not driven by song or dance or laughter—just the enraged sorrow of a bard who had, long ago, buried his mother, nearly just lost his daughter, and soon, all too soon, would lose one of his best friends.

It connected. There was no question there.

And then, finally, Keyleth was handed the tome.

-------------------------------------------

In the distance, the impossibly gargantuan skeleton of the massive titan loomed over the city of Vassalheim, as cheering and shouts of surprised delight burst over the night sky like fireworks. Lanterns were beginning to bloom along the city skyline, and people were coming out of their homes and armies were lowering their weapons as now the news spread like wildfire that finally, finally, the Undying King had fallen.

But Vox Machina were not celebrating.

Vax pressed his forehead to his sister’s and put his hands on her face. Behind him, the silent form of the Raven Queen watched on, unimaginably distant and terrifyingly close, all at the same time.

“I never had a greater friend than you,” he said softly. “And we traveled a lot, but I never had a greater friend than you.”

Vex shook her head, tears hitting the grass below them. “I feel like she’s taking part of me away,” she breathed, a wracking, shaking sob.

He stroked her cheek. “I will bring it with me to remind me of you.”

“I don’t know how to live.”

“I will see you again.”

“I know.”

“I will see you again. And I will tell your mother that you say hello.”

She laughed, a short a humorless laugh. “Please.” and then she sobbed again and said, “I love you. I don’t accept this.”

He nodded. “I know that it’s hard. And I am sorry.”

“I’m going to find you.”

He wrapped her into a hug. And then, after a moment, after one final hand on her back and kiss to her forehead, he pulled away and turned to Keyleth.

The druid walked up to him, and threw her arms around his neck, tears streaming down her face. He pressed his lips to hers, and afterwards whispered, “I’m sorry it’s so cold.”

“I don’t care,” she said. “I don’t accept this. I love you.”

He smiled. “I will never stop loving you.”

“This isn’t fair,” she said.

“I know.”

She looked him in the eye, and her heart broke all over again. “I guess…I guess we have to say goodbye.”

He took her hands, just as she had, all those nights ago, and squeezed them gently. “For now,” he agreed. “I love you, Keyleth of the Air Ashari.”

She stole one final kiss, and murmured back, “I love you, Vax'ildan. I’ll see you again.”

After what felt like the lifetime they would not have, he pulled away, and took a breath he did not need, and began to walk towards the dark cloak of the Raven Queen. With each step, tiny flowers began curling around his feet, small white petals blooming against the dark green grass where they stood, until a carpet of snowdrops trailed back from Vax’s pale form to the rest of his family. He turned to face them.

“S.H.I.T.S.!” he called, voice wavering but firm and strong. “How lucky I have been to have had all of you. How lucky, indeed. Thank you.”

Then he strode into the embrace of his mother, and his patron.

And then, it was just feathers.

-------------------------------------------

Years passed. Keyleth of the Air Ashari watched alongside Percy and Vex in the shade, as three dark-haired and two white-haired children chased each other through the grass and around the gardens.

“Julius looks just like him,” said the druid with a sad smile. “But you said Jonathan’s the one who talks to birds?”

“Yes,” said Vex, “and he thinks you’re very cool, so I think you should go and talk to him later.”

“I might just do that,” Keyleth nodded. “Maybe he might want to come visit Zephra, one of these days.”

“Take Olivia also,” said Percy. “We think her magic is arcane, but it might do her some good. Besides, she’s his twin, and they don’t like being separated.”

“I can see how that might work,” said Keyleth. Then she looked at Percy and Vex and asked, “Say, did Pike and Scanlan set a date yet? I know gnomes don’t really operate on the same timeline as everyone else, believe me, I know, but have they said anything yet?”

“No,” said Percy, “I don’t think so. But knowing how quickly they fell all over each other, after everything that happened, I’m sure it’ll be soon.”

-------------------------------------------

“Scanlan?” Pike asked, from their spot in bed.

“Yes, Pikey?”

“Remember when you showed me your soulmark, and you mentioned something about wondering why it said what it did?”

“Yes, I remember.”

Pike rolled her sleeve up, and held her arm out to Scanlan.

“It’s in gnomish,” he said, slightly surprised.

“It’s my humble roots,” she grinned. “Go on, read it.”

“I won’t make…” Scanlan faltered, but with a gentle nudge he tried again. “I won’t make you wait long, Pikey.”

“Stop it, Scanlan,” Pike recited. “Take all the time you need.”

Their eyes met.

“So…you think…?”

“I’m pretty sure I know,” said Pike, and grinned. “You forest gnomes live a long time.”

“Are…are you alright with—”

“I am,” said Pike. “I really, truly am.”

“Oh, good,” said Scanlan, and he smiled as well when she leaned in for a kiss.

-------------------------------------------

“Mama, what do these marks mean?” asked Percival IV, holding his arm up for his mother to see.

“That’s called a soulmark, darling. It’s words your soulmate will speak to you, one day.”

“How will I know who my soulmate is?”

“You just do, when the time comes. I know that sounds confusing, but trust me, alright? When you meet the right person, you’ll know.”

“Did you meet the right person, Mama?”

“I did, darling. And guess who that person was?”

“Who?”

“Your father,” and here, she bopped her son on the nose and he started to giggle.

“But, you know, these marks don’t always mean you have to spend time with only your soulmate. When your mama traveled around with Vox Machina, well, it almost felt like all of them were my soulmates.”

Her son considered this. “Like when I’m with Elaina and Julius and Olivia and Jonathan and Trinket and Dad and Auntie Keyleth and Uncle Grog and Auntie Pike and Uncle Scanlan and—”

She grinned, and bopped him again. “Yes, darling, just like that.”

-------------------------------------------

The wedding was small, and Grog carried Scanlan down the aisle on his shoulders as Kaylie played a bridal march on her fiddle, and Great-uncle Wilhand, arthritic and nearly bald, officiated.

There were two flower girls and one ring bear, that carried the three ring-bearers on his back.

-------------------------------------------

“Keyleth?”

They were seated beneath the Sun Tree, watching the clouds roll by over Whitestone, below.

“Yes, Vex?”

“Do…do you think you’ll ever find someone else?”

There was a pause.

“I…I’m not sure,” she said. “Maybe. It’s…it’s still too new. But I know he would want me to move on.”

“You have all the time in the world, darling.”

She laughed. “Oh, I know.”

“I know there’s a lot to be said about soulmates, but still. We’re not soulmates, and I still feel connected to you. To everyone in Vox Machina.”

Keyleth nodded. “I know what you mean,” she said with a small smile. “I think…I think it’s always nice to know who your soulmate is, but it’s also nice to just…to just spend time with other people.”

“Yes,” said Vex, poking Keyleth in the arm. “It is.”

-------------------------------------------

Nobody knows the reason why, or how, or who is behind the curling lines of text that appear on the skin of every newborn child across the planes. Perhaps it’s the work of sentimental deities, brushing their fingers against the arms of their creations to let them know that no matter what, in this chaotic, unpredictable, dangerous world, they will never be alone. Perhaps it’s the gods of love, helping mortals find the ones with whom they will share every full, deep breath of air and every beat of their hearts. Perhaps it’s the work of trickster gods, playing their jokes on those who will never know who their other half is, until the end. Or, perhaps, it’s the work of the Raven Queen herself, Weaver of Fates, Matron of Death, leaving her mark on creation and urging all to find their fated and enjoy the time they have together, before the inevitable.

Nobody really knows.

But maybe, as a wise goliath once said around a campfire in the woods outside Whitestone, under the night sky with his friends at his side, “who cares?” In the end, you stick with the people you love, all the people you love, and perhaps, maybe then, it won’t matter what fate tried to tell you. You’ll have found the ones you wanted, and you’ll have been with the ones you needed, all along.

And that? That is more than enough.

-------------------------------------------

This was a place, almost a hundred years later, where the sun was bright, and the grass seemed to glow, and the skies always felt like home.

“Your sister says hello.”

There was a laugh, and a smile, and a warm hand on his shoulder.

“I know, Freddie. I know.”

[moiraineswife]

Percy Meta: Potential

The dam finally broke and now here is the Percy meta that...None of you have really been waiting on, but which has been inevitable for at least two weeks. Most of this is probably like...obvious af, and I’m well aware I’m late to the party but also I feel good about my present state of Revelation so like, deal with it. 

This ain’t gonna be short. At all. This ain’t even gonna think about being short. Y’all have been warned. 

For a little bit now, I’ve been struggling somewhat between the slight chasm between the way the audience (and me) respond to Percy, and the way Taliesin seems to respond to Percy, mostly in terms of the way they judge/see him, and Taliesin has said several times that he considers Percy to be a bad person which was something my tiny, protective little brain couldn’t wrap its head around. But I think I get it, and I think it has almost 100% to do with the way that Percy sees the world around him. 

Percy sees the world in terms of its potential. 

Most people see a lump of black powder; Percy sees bullets. Most people see steel and wood; Percy sees a gun. Most people see things as they are; Percy sees them for what they could be. 

This is something that drives...A huge amount of his life tbh. All of his tinkering projects emerge from this way of seeing the world. The wheels are always spinning, and he’s always thinking of ways to reinvent the wheel. And then what else he can do with the wheel. And what he can do with that and on and on and on. 

I think Percy wanders around a world in which everything he comes across is a raw material. It’s something he can use to make something else, something bigger, something cleverer, something better. 

But I ALSO think that this way of thinking is what makes up his sense of morality, as well as his view on the world, and his view on himself. 

[Please now venture beneath the cut to continue listening to me cry rivers about Percy de Rolo and his ‘you need a therapist, child’ psychology] 

Percy also sees people for their potential. Which makes him incredibly interesting if you rather like picking apart a characters’ sense of morality (which, spoiler alert: I do) Most people, I think, will tend to base their judgements of others on a)- what they do or b)- why they do it. 

This gives rise to the ways most people understand the world. They either flat out think: killing is wrong, that is a wrong act, whatever the circumstances. Or they consider, well, yes, killing is wrong in most cases, but if you look at why this person killed - to protect, for instance, then in that case they would forgive. Obviously things get much more nuanced than that, but basically that’s how it goes. 

I don’t think Percy really thinks that way. I don’t think he really judges people based on what they’ve done, or why they’re doing it. I think he judges people on what they may do in the future. The more likely they are to do more harm, the worse of a person they are in his eyes. 

For context/a source of what sparked all this, I’m in the middle of episode 67 at the moment, and they’re just reintroducing Ripley to the narrative, and Percy is coming to terms with the effect he’s had on her, and the fact that someone else in the world is producing guns - which has the potential to change said world astronomically. 

This has produced a lot of Very Telling Percy moments, but the one I’m most thinking about is his reasoning behind why his decision to let Ripley live when they found her in Whitestone was wrong. 

Percy sees this in very simple terms, which he explains to Vax and Vex: he should have killed Ripley because she was a greater threat to the world in the future than the Briarwoods were (as far as he understood it at the time). Letting the Briarwoods live would have meant a couple more vampire-things in the world, world’s full of them already, not as big a deal. Letting Ripley live could, in his eyes, cause the deaths of hundreds, if not thousands of people, perhaps more, because of the knowledge that she has, and her potential to unleash his designs and his guns on the world. 

This is...A seriously interesting way of looking at things. Especially when you consider the fact that the Briarwoods are like...Solely responsible for the deaths of Percy’s entire family, the loss of his home, the loss of like...Everything, pretty much. If he’s judging people on their past actions he’s got every damn right to consider them as far worse than Ripley. 

But he doesn’t. He considers her evil. Purely evil. She is the only thing we’ve seen thusfar that actually scares Percy. Percy who was the first to jump into the swirling ball of fire that took them to the elemental plane. Percy that made a deal with a demon and didn’t truly fear that. Percy who confronted an ancient, soul-devouring sword without so much as blinking. Percy fears Ripley. Percy judges Ripley as the most dangerous, and the most terrible being he has ever encountered, because Percy looks at this woman and doesn’t see what she’s done, doesn’t even really see what she’s presently doing, he sees what she may do in the future, and that is what terrifies him. 

But I think this concept gets even MORE interesting when you note that Percy applies this way of thinking to himself. 

And I think that THIS is what causes the rift between the way he views himself, and the way the rest of the world (and, out-of-world, the way the audience views him) because we are, essentially, judging two entirely different people. 

The people around Percy, and the audience, are responding to Percy in the moment.  They’re responding to the Percy that they can see at present. 

Percy is judging the Percy that he can see five, ten, twenty years down the line, the monster that man has the potential to become, and the horrifying change he has the potential to wreak upon the world. 

Percy takes a strange, twisted almost delight in being mistrusted by those closest to him. When he asks Vax if Vax trusts him and Vax hesitates he isn’t insulted, he isn’t offended, or upset, or unsettled, he is pleased. He encourages this view of himself. And I think this is because he wants those around him to perceive him as he perceives himself, as the threat that he poses, as the thing that he could become. 

There was a moment a  few episodes back, which I’m sure has been very thoroughly discussed in-fandom already, in which Percy told Vax, “ And in return I ask: never take your eyes off me. Never trust me. And that is the best friend that you can me." And this is absolutely founded on the same logic. 

Percy will accept like. Percy will accept friendship. Percy will even, to an extent, accept love, and that those around him love him. The thing Percy will never accept is trust. And I think that is because all of those other things, friendship, and liking, and even love, are all rooted in the present. They’re all immediate, and they don’t carry any kind of impact on the future. 

Trust does. Trust implies a certain investment, and trust carries with it a ripple effect. If Percy is trusted in the present, that could lead to some terrible consequences in the future. Trust is based on the potential. It’s based on unknowns - to trust someone is to accept that you don’t fully know what they’ll do, what they’ll choose, but you have faith they’ll do the right thing, and this is what terrifies Percy, I think. 

Percy wants to be mistrusted. Percy wants to be watched. Because Percy’s imagination has carried him about six steps ahead of everyone else, and he’s looking at the worst case scenario of the monster he might become, and his rejection of trust is his safeguard against that. If he’s not trusted, if he’s watched, if he’s stopped, then maybe, just maybe, they can avoid that. 

And what’s more interesting is that I don’t think any of this is rooted in a desire to palm responsibility off on someone else. Percy has a fairly deep self-awareness, probably too deep, in fact, and for all his flaws, he takes responsibility for himself, for his actions, and for the consequences of those actions. This isn’t about trying to pass blame, this is about his innate fear and mistrust of himself and his desire for others to see that. 

And so i think that this is why Percy sees himself as a terrible person, and where that pit of self-loathing in him comes from, that the others have a hard time accepting/coming to terms with (fucking Vax has said he believes Percy to be a good person, like damn son that’s some reference) is that Percy’s judging future!Percy, and everyone else is judging present!Percy. 

Because present Percy isn’t, as far as I can see, a terrible person. But Percy is fully aware of the monster that he has the capacity to become. And I think he hates that person, and he hates the fact that the potential of it is inside him as he is, and that’s what causes his judgement of himself, his hatred of himself. 

And there’s something...So deeply painful about that. Because in some senses I can almost understand him judging the rest of the world and all the people in it on these terms, especially when the weight of protecting that world has been partially shoved onto Percy’s shoulders. It’s a tactical and it’s a pragmatic and it’s a logical morality, and it’s pretty damn perfect for Percy. He’s able to prioritise and weigh threats, essentially, he’s able to see what’s the biggest threat, and then works to counter that. Very suited for the life of a monster-hunter, and even a soldier to an extent, methinks. 

The problem is it’s a less than perfect personal morality. He hates himself for something he may not ever become. He judges himself a monster for things that haven’t yet happened, and may never happen. He hates a thing that is by no means certain, or inevitable, it’s only the faintest shred of a chance, but that alone is enough for him to condemn himself, and that’s a dark, lonely, painful way to live. 

And to just dig a little bit deeper (I swear I’m nearly done, I swear) into the veritable goldmine of analysis potential that is Percy de Rolo, this dovetails with another fundamental part of Percy’s character (as far as I see him anyway) which is: legacy. 

Percy was born and raised in a noble family, and was probably educated on legacy from the age at which he was able to understand what that word meant. He is literally the walking personification of the concept of legacy. Percy and his nine hundred names has become something of a running joke, I get that, but I also think his emphasis on it is significant for two things: 

1)- when he left Whitestone, his name was the only thing of his past that he had left. As far as he knew, his entire family was dead, and his house, lands, people, and future were all in the hands of their killers. 2)- It’s generated, presumably, by various names of historical significance to the de Rolo family, that had to be carried on in Percy the same way a bloodline is carried on. It’s a constant reminder of the pressure to live up to his history, but also to preserve and to continue it. And with Percy as, what he thought for some time, the last de Rolo, that makes this even more of a weight on his shoulders. 

He has that beautiful speech during the Westruun arc about how he will live as long as Whitestone lives. It’s a really poignant moment (And I want to know who taliesin jaffe sold his soul to for these lines, but I’ll explore that at a later date) but it’s also super-revealing in terms of Percy. 

Percy does not really consider himself in that moment an individual. Percy is a multitude. Percy is the history that has been written, and the history that is yet to be written. He is a single page in a much larger book. And he’s deeply aware, and also deeply comfortable with this ideal. (Which is also very interesting, because most people have trouble when considering their own mortality/limited purpose/place in the grand scheme of the universe) 

And what Percy considers ‘the human soul’ in this moment is the things that they build with their ‘tiny moments’. Cities will stand (barring dragon-attacks and death marble destruction) for generations after those that built them set the first stones. Books and historical records will last even longer. But the truly impactful thing here is that Percy considers a person’s soul that which they create, and that which they leave behind.

So, with that in mind, if Percy creates and leaves behind Ripley, and his guns, that makes for a rather twisted, dark, violent soul. He specifically says in that episode that when he doesn’t leave any record of his creations - his notes are destroyed/put away once he’s finished making whatever it is he’s making, and he specifically asks the rest of Vox Machina to destroy all of his creations after he’s gone. He does not want that to be his legacy, he doesn’t want that to be what he leaves behind, he doesn’t want that to be the mark of his human soul on this world. 

This all explains why he is so haunted and disturbed by Ripley’s existence, and also why he sees himself as a bad person. And it’s actually a really interesting, nuanced look at the trope of a character being obsessed with their legacy. I think this gives it a real substance, and grounding, and meaning, and feeling. There are reasons behind this, very deep reasons behind this obsession with what he will become, and what he will leave behind, and the fact his moral sense is based on that is even more fascinating and just...All the awards to Taliesin Jaffe for Percy’s character, honestly, because he builds this up so well, and understands and responds to the nuances of Percy’s character and trauma so damn well. 

TL;DR: Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III has some very serious psychological scars related to legacy, and is so afraid of what future!Percy may look like, he hates present!Percy for even entertaining the possibility of future!Percy by like...Existing. 

Wow this was a marathon. If u got to the end of it a)- thank u and b)- i feel for u bc u probably have as many Percy feelings as me, and correspondingly little soul or heart left so like...I feel for u, friend, I feel for u. 

[kivrinengle]

One for Sorrow

one for sorrow

Sorrow is too small a word for it - for the tragedy that devours his family in one terrible night, leaving only Percival, the last sad remnant of what had once been a family. Tragedy, they call it, in hushed whispers: so sad, what happened to those poor people. Sorrow is an insult, a thing too small to stand in the face of murder and destruction and the end of the world.

But sorrow is a beast with teeth of iron, and they rip at his mind and his soul until there is little left of humanity or even sanity. It screams in his head, echoes of all that he has lost - family, home, safety, future - until all that is left is Percy, last sad remnant of what had once been a person. Sometimes, he is not even certain that much remains.

two for mirth

It strikes him, as he is dragged away from his target by armed guards, that this is probably exactly how his family would have expected his attempt at revenge to go. There had always been a fond, gentle mockery of his tendency to mess things up because he was so deeply buried in his studies or his work. He had been known to walk into walls or fall into ingenious practical jokes set by his younger siblings. Mother would have shaken her head, hiding a smile, and Father would have taken him aside for a quick speech on the need to keep a clear focus on the things that were in front of him. They wouldn’t have been surprised by his latest failure.

It is simply typical of him, he muses, strangely absent from himself as he is unceremoniously hauled toward a building that can only be a prison. And that is a startling reassurance, and one that he had not even looked for - that something of who he was Before has survived.

He laughs at that - a bitter, broken thing, creaking with disuse. He has not laughed in months - years - decades? - not since the end of his world. There is nothing amusing in any of it. There might be nothing amusing left in all of Exandria. But Percy laughs, and thinks it is possible that he might still exist.

three for a death

He has seen so much death that sometimes he is not sure he will ever get the smell of it out of his nostrils. He has been up close and personal with death several times since the first time it came calling, and he imagines he is now immune to it. The deaths of sailors at sea had never broken through the fog that surrounded him - not the almost-friend who fell overboard in a storm, nor the cook, dying slowly of infection from a bad burn. Even the sudden, sharp loss of a tiny cabin boy who ought never to have been aloft passed over him like mist before the bow of a ship, and he breathed through it and felt nothing. Death had come too close, and bore him no terrors, now.

Or so he thinks.

But there is a cat in the dank prison into which he is thrown, and somehow, Percy becomes almost fond of the battered old thing. It creeps through the bars of his cell to attend to the vermin, and sometimes he wakes from fitful slumber to find it curled up against him, the one spot of warmth against the chill of stone and iron chains. He hardly remembers warmth or softness. The rumble of the cat’s purr does something inside his chest, and Percy finds himself saving bits from his horrid rations to try and tempt the cat back, to ensure one more moment of warmth and connection.

And when he wakes one bitter morning to find the old cat curled up in his lap, cold and still, Percy realizes that Death is not through with him. He pets the tiny, stiff corpse with absent fingers, and lets the tears spill down his cheeks. He wouldn’t mind if death came for him now, but for the revenge he had promised himself on his family’s murderers. He is not afraid of it.

He still weeps.

four for a birth

Percy had been almost present at the births of all of his younger siblings. He had waited a few rooms away, keeping pace with his father’s anxious pacing, and had gone away and made pompous notes in his pompous diary about the event after the fact. The only birth he did not remember was his own - which was as it should be, of course. No-one ought to remember their own birth.

He prayed, in the end, in that prison cell - for something, anything, to give him guidance, to show him a way forward. Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III had never held with deities, or faith in anything other than what he could see and touch. The shattered fragment that remains of him is no longer certain of anything, and addresses a prayer to parties unknown.

Something happens.

His new life rushes in on him before he is prepared for it, all violence and blood and noise and chaos. He seems to find himself yanked from the familiar surroundings of his cell with hardly more than a word (though that seems unlikely, when he thinks back on it later. His new companions never do anything without talking it over to the point of absurdity.) A huge, terrifying someone claps him hard on the back, knocking him to his knees as his legs tremble from hunger and disuse, and someone else pulls him back up and urges him forward, wrapping a warm cloak around his shoulders.

“Don’t worry,” one of the newcomers says soothingly. “It’s all much worse than it seems. You’ll be regretting meeting us in no time.”

And Percy is dragged forward into a new life, a new family, in the strangest sort of rebirth that he could imagine. He hates to imagine which of the deities might be responsible.

five for silver

“Yes, you’ve explained about the weapon,” one of the dark-haired twins tells him patiently, some time after they’ve escaped his prison. He doesn’t know how long it’s been. He’s better now, truly he is, but he still loses time, or finds himself in places without knowing how he got there. It’s not his biggest problem. “We get it. It’s very important, and we shouldn’t touch. But you’re not answering the question.”

The other one pops up, and Percy spends some time wondering if this is, perhaps, his mind playing tricks on him. That happens sometimes, too. Are there really two of them? “Yes, darling,” this one says, more wariness than warmth in the tone. “We’re not asking anything difficult - just your name.”

They have no idea how difficult that is. His name was something, once - almost something of importance. Now, it is the only thing of value he has left. He is likely the only person remaining in the world who even knows it. He’d gone by something on the ship - not his real name, he knows - but he cannot remember what it had been. It hadn’t mattered.

His hand slips to the weapon at his side, finger tracing over the names engraved in five of the six barrels. Names have power, he knows; he doesn’t trust any of these people.

A tiny figure is by his side when he blinks his way back from thought, and the face of the little gnome is serious. She doesn’t try to touch him. He appreciates that.

“You don’t need to give us anything,” she murmurs, the words almost lost in the chatter of the group. “Not if it matters to you. But we kind of need something to call you.”

“I could name ‘im,” the goliath puts in cheerfully. “I’m really good at names.” The gnome gives Percy a wide-eyed look that tells him he doesn’t want to take the goliath up on this offer.

Percy stands up, not without effort, and wanders across the campsite. They all give him space, watching him warily; they do not know what they have brought into their midst. He makes his way slowly to the nearby stream, lowering himself to his knees at it’s edge. He feels like an old man these days, battered by a weary life. As he leans over the water, still and clear here in a tiny pool that has collected by one bank, he doesn’t know the face that looks back at him.

His hair is a singular shock of silver, standing up at odd angles, looking nothing like the boy who had stared at him from his mirror back at Whitestone so many years before. He hadn’t seen his reflection much since; had gotten good at shaving without benefit of a mirror aboard ship, like the other sailors. The pale, silvery ghost who looked up at him from the water looked right, though. This was what the last survivor of Whitestone ought to look like.

But he didn’t look like Percival.

“Just-” he muttered, shaking his head when he realized several of the group were standing around staring at him again. He’d probably lost time again, off in his own head while his hands shook and his body stayed frozen. “Just call me Percy.”

six for gold

Vex is a light, golden and glorious. She is the first one he trusts - as much as he trusts anyone, now. She is brutally honest from the start, and he thinks that he loves her for that; he wonders if he even remembers what that word once meant.

“So,” she says, coming up beside him as he stares into the flames of their little campfire late that first night. He’s said that he would take the midnight watch, but he doesn’t blame her for sitting up with him. He wouldn’t trust any of them to watch his back, either; he will lie awake all night, and likely for some time to come. “Percy.”

“Yes? Hello?” he tries awkwardly after a moment passes, and nothing more is said.

“This is a bit awkward,” she says, stretching out the words in an unnatural sing-song. “And nobody else wants to bring it up, because they’re all cowards, so I sort of have to.”

“You want me to leave,” he says flatly. That makes sense, after all. He nods, already thinking of what he needs to bring when he leaves in the morning.

“No! No, no, no,” she says quickly, flapping her hands at him. “Well, Vax does, but only because he’s a suspicious bastard. I’m just…not sure that we’re the best fit for you, perhaps?” Her voice trails away, gone high and vague, and Percy frowns at her.

“How do you mean?”

She sighs, dragging her hands down her face. “Well, it’s just…” She stops, and starts again. “You seem a bit … sickly. Which is fine, don’t get me wrong! But we’re a band of mercenaries who aren’t always good at actually getting paid, you understand. And as soon as we do get a bit of gold, I barely get my hands on it before everyone’s rushing off to spend it!” Vex is so comically over-annoyed by this that Percy wishes he remembered how to smile like a person. “Anyway,” she says, breathing long and deep. “I’m only saying that we’re all going to feel really bad if you up and die on us because we couldn’t afford to look after you, so maybe you want us to take you to a village and set you up somewhere that you can rest peacefully?”

He watches her for a long moment, trying to figure out her angle, the threat she poses, the danger lurking in the shadows - and then he gives up. He is tired, and she is so honest right now that it almost hurts. He reaches into the bag at his side and pulls out his leather money bag, tossing it to her without breaking eye contact. She catches it on reflex, gasping as she glances inside it.

“I didn’t mean you needed to pay us!” Vex shoves it back at him, some strange mixture of offended and already grieving the loss. “We may be mercenaries, but we’re a bit above beating up dying prisoners for their gold, thank you!”

“I’m not dying,” he protests mildly. He gathers up the bag and holds it out to her, pleased that his hands aren’t shaking now. “I have gold. I don’t need it, I don’t want it, and I don’t know how to look after it. That was-” he breaks off. That was Vesper’s job, from the moment she turned twelve and had insisted on Father letting her take over from the bookkeeper who had been skimming money from the family accounts. “I want you to have it,” he says again after a moment. “I’ll tell you when I need some of it for my work, and you can do what you like with the rest.”

She watches him for a long time, but he knows she will take the offer, if only from the way her fingers keep twitching toward the bag. “Fine,” she says in the end, taking the bag from him gently, now. “But if I get to decide what to do with it, the first thing we’re doing is buying you some clothes that aren’t rags. Also, food. Lots of it.” She frowns at his skinny wrists, and the bag disappears somewhere about her person.

Percy stares back at the fire, and thinks he can remember how to smile if he gives it a bit of thought. He is lighter without the weight of the gold.

seven for a secret never to be told

Honest people didn’t keep secrets, Mother had told him time and again. The de Rolos had an obligation to be honest with their people, or they stood to do nothing but damage to those who relied on them. Percival had been a bit of a secretive child, though, and kept his more dangerous tinkering experiments to himself, though not without a rush of guilt when Mother looked at him knowingly.

But someone had been keeping a secret, he has decided over time. Something about Whitestone, some secret he had never been privy to, had been the downfall of his entire house. He isn’t certain whether he wishes he had known the secret or not. If he’d known, he would have blurted it out under Ripley’s cunning hands; but, then, if he’d known anything of value, there would at least have been a purpose to torturing him. As it is, he bears the scars of someone else’s secrets. He doesn’t even bother pretending he hasn’t got secrets of his own, now.

Trust grows slowly between Percy and the other members of their little band, but somehow he blinks, and it has been nearly half a year, and he has seven other people whom he trusts with his life, and who trust him with theirs. He is never going to take that responsibility lightly.

He makes himself a mental list of all of the secrets that might pose a threat to them, ranking and ordering them, and tries to work out whether he can divest himself of any of them. The difficulty is, though, that for all their prowess at magic and fighting, Percy is sometimes shocked to realize just how foolhearty and juvenile their group can be. They call themselves Vox Machina now, but the SHITS had been more honest.

How can he let them know about the Briarwoods, when Grog and Scanlan are as likely to be using their heads as battering rams to see whose cracks first as they are to be thinking? How can he share the dangerous truth of his own full identity, while he watches Keyleth and Pike get so drunk they can’t stand up, howling all their secrets to the sky in great laughing gusts of careless joy?

How can he tell anyone the secret that truly scares him - the dark monster that haunts his dreams - when Vax and Vex change moods on a dime, weaving through unpredictable extremes of emotion faster than he can keep up?

Percy burns his mental list, consigning it all to his own memory, and vows to keep his secrets.

(Two weeks later, they will encounter a haughty government employee who seeks to stand between them and the information they need, and Percy will burst out with his whole name, every aristocratic syllable of it tinged with scornful disdain that accomplishes his goals. He won’t even remember that he meant to keep it from them forever. After all, they’ll never get it right.)

eight for a wish

Cassandra had used to wish on stars. Percy remembers this sometimes, on night watches when the stars are very bright, though the skies lack the crisp, cold clarity of Whitestone nights. She had used to bully him into standing witness for her wishes, insisting on the proper form of the thing. He cannot remember any of those little-girl wishes now - just the solemn intensity of her, staring up with the determination to make the universe itself bend to her will.

Percy does not make wishes. He has learned, so well, that he is not a person who should be allowed to want things. His choices throw that up to him at every turn, his failures showing in stark relief what happens when Percy de Rolo wants things beyond his reach. He cannot protect his family, cannot kill Anna Ripley, cannot seek vengeance on those who destroyed his life. These are not things he can want - not without dark and terrible consequences.

But he cannot help but make one wish, a small, pitiful thing in the unending gloom of the Underdark, when it seems they will never find their way out again. He thinks of Cassandra, under the clear skies, and closes his eyes, and wishes to see the stars again.

Surely that is a small enough thing for him to wish.

nine for a kiss

It isn’t until both of the twins have kissed him that Percy actually pays any attention.

Vax’s jubilant embrace in the Underdark had been nothing more than wild delight at the prospect of escape, and had been mostly lost in the chaos of that flight.

When Vex kisses him, too, his brain sits up and pays attention.

Thinking is hard, sometimes. Keeping track of time, especially in the foggy bits before he met Vox Machina, is often beyond Percy. He is very certain, though, that it has been years since he made any sort of direct physical contact with another being. Certainly, people had attacked and beaten him, or dragged him around; there had been fleeting touches of healing magic or brushes in the middle of combat. He’d been hit by just about every sort of weapon imaginable.

But Vax and Vex have both kissed him, and Percy has to sit down and think about that. And Keyleth has leaned over his shoulders, and Grog has slapped him on the back until he fell over, and, and, and…

He has to put his face in his hands and breathe deeply for a while. Somehow, while he wasn’t looking, Percy has become a part of this strange, broken little family - welcomed, integrated, loved. Somehow, his defences fell so low that he hadn’t even noticed he was past the boundaries of propriety and familiarity.

Vax cuffs him fondly on the head as he passes, ruffling Percy’s hair. “Don’t think too hard, there,” he says with a smirk that Percy can just hear. “I don’t want to be responsible for cleaning up when that brain of yours explodes.”

And Percy reaches a hand up to touch where Vax had pressed his hand, awed almost past the point of thought.

He is one of them. He is someone whom they like, and trust, and rely on. They laugh and cry and eat and sleep and fight together - as though Percy is a real person, as though he is something more than human wreckage, than mere flotsam from the wreck of his life. He has anchors, now. Connections.

Family.

ten for a bird you must not miss

And there he is, standing in front of Silas Briarwood, gun burning in his shaking hands. He doesn’t dare blink, or breathe, or think too hard. There is Silas, teeth gleaming in the moonlight, and his hateful wife not ten paces away. They haven’t aged a day, even as Percy has gone white-haired and taken scar upon scar, wiping away the image of the boy they had once met.

There is Silas in his gunsights, turning to look at him with a look of sheer contempt. Had he looked at Father that way, before murdering him? Had Lady Briarwood worn such a cool expression as his little siblings fell, victims of secrets they had never known? The fuzzy darkness tugs at the back of Percy’s head, temptingly. He could fall into it, escaping this confrontation he was in no way ready for. Something was growling in the back of his mind, a feeling darker and more powerful than he was ready to handle.

But there was a shape at Silas’ feet - a dark pile of rags, hardly moving, and Vax had called them for help, and it wasn’t hard to put facts together. And if Vax was down, and the rest of them were converging on this courtyard together, Percy knew with cold certainty that his chances of losing another family tonight were too high to bear. They were not unarmed children now: but there was Vax, down and still, and Silas looming over him like oncoming death, and Percy swallowed and breathed deep to scream out his hatred to the sky

And he took a breath and steadied his aim

And pushed aside all thoughts of Death, coming to visit him again, and breathed again, until he only had room for one thought:

You must not miss.

And Percy took his shot.

[pinkwhalepjs]

Scanlan’s Impact On Vox Machina

Grog: More than just a friend and accomplice in various crimes, Scanlan was one of the only people who valued Grog’s ideas. Scanlan never really treated Grog like he was dumb and equally considered all of Grog’s suggestions which did end up getting them into some crazy messed up situations on occasion, but was always extremely funny. Grog did not understand too well exactly why Scanlan left but was specifically hurt that Scanlan did not bother to specifically say his goodbyes to Grog. When Scanlan returns he does not seem super excited to see VM again meaning that Grog’s friendship did not mean as much to him as it did to Grog. To add insult to injury Scanlan has a very Grog-esque character with him, Lionel. Grog immediately tests his strength either hoping that if Lionel was obviously stronger than him then obviously Scanlan was just looking for the best protector available or that he would be obviously weaker and Grog could prove that Scanlan had made a bad call. However, Lionel proves not only to be about equally matched with Grog but instantly likable and compelling. Grog storms out and demonstrates his new literacy to Vax and Vex as he passes by not knowing how to express his feelings of loss, believing that Lionel is in fact a better version of himself that Scanlan has found, one who is, at least in his mind, stronger, smarter, and more fun to be around.

Pike: It is debatable whether she harbors specifically romantic feelings for Scanlan, but she assuredly at least has grown closer to him emotionally as he shed his comedic playboy roll and began reaching inside himself to re-examine his life choices. Although she would probably have supported Scanlan’s decision to leave Vox Machina to forge his own path and create a family with his daughter, because he did not say goodbye to her and left in such a negative way, she, like Grog, has grown to resent him. His tense and hesitant return has also left her feeling that the close companionship se felt she had begun to share with Scanlan was not equally valued by him.

Note: In order to regain the favor of his two closest friends, Scanlan would have to come begging on his knees and force them to listen to him, proving to them that their relationship is very meaningful and important to him like they originally believed it was.

Percy: Although Percy was not known to be particularly close to Scanlan, his intense involvement in the screaming argument preceding Scanlan’s departure has haunted him and morphed into a continuously burning resentment towards Scanlan. Scanlan’s specific claim that VM did not know or care about him struck a chord in Percy. The complaint is more indicative of an overall problem in VM where many members choose to keep their problems to themselves until they boil over and become dangerous plot points (Percy’s inner demon being the most literal of these examples). Percy never complains about being called out for bad things he does do of which he feels there are many and often mentions his feeling that the things he intends to do are, in his mind, not morally good perhaps in the hopes that someone will argue hm out of it. To be accused of not caring about others in the group rubbed Percy the wrong was so intensely because to him that is one of the only good aspects of himself that he si sure about. Even if he does bad things to people, and makes things that will hurt many people, he knows that at least he really really cares about his friends. And if that’s not true, if Scanlan is right, that he’s back to square one, a person that is not worthwhile.

Keyleth: She’s fairly neutral here. She resents that Scanlan lobbed accusations at the group that while having merit were not entirely based in truth, and also is not a fan of his decision to suddenly cut ties with them and then only return hesitantly without much commitment to rekindle the lost relationships. However, she personally could probably be easily brought to the pro-Scanlan side as she did not have any personal issues with him and can see the merit of him choosing his responsibility to his daughter over his bonds with the group, especially considering her growing guilt that she has yet to fully step into her position as Voice of the Tempest.

Vax: He has always looked up to Scanlan and sees him as the father figure he never had. More than other members of the groups he has been sure than Scanlan would come back on his own terms and is willing to accept him back unconditionally, no questions asked. If anything, Vax is glad that Scanlan took his time to deal with the problems that were making him deeply unhappy when he was with VM. After all, Vax took his own time to figure out what to do when he accidentally became a Champion of the Raven Queen. Vax clearly sees him and Keyleth departing for the Air Ashari in the near future and wants to make sure that group has resolved any bitterness before they say goodbye for good. He will probably be instrumental in healing old wounds.

Vex: Her knowledge about Scanlan’s drug addiction made her more sympathetic to him and she is very happy that he decided make a big personal sacrifice to commit himself to a relationship with his daughter (something she wished her own father had done). Vex’s personal quest is all about mercy and forgiveness, tired of grudges and suspicion holding her down and stopping her from forming close relationships. Scanlan is the biggest example of her new willingness to forgive the past so as to not sully valuable relationships. I think she will be able to pull Percy into forgiving Scanlan as they both wanted to become more merciful, and he has already indicated that he does not want to continue being dragged down into a dark state by pent up resentments. No more revenge is a motto many in VM are really attempting to adopt.

[ameliathermopolis]

Percy as a Druid?

Your wish, my command, etc. With a splash of Perc’ildan, as per your request!

[read on ao3]

The world always looked so much larger from the air, Percy thought, looping around one of the watch towers of the castle before flying upwards again. Allura and Shaun had told him countless times that there was no need for nightly fly overs with the shield up and running, but Percy had spent so long forcing down the need to feel wind beneath his wings, that he couldn’t bring himself to deny it now. The late afternoon sun felt warm, even this late into the winter, and the land fell away beneath him as he flew higher and higher. Percy let out a scree when he landed on the first tree that led to up the mountains proper, and it echoed down into the valley.

It’s the world, my dear, his mother’s voice echoed in his memory. Did you expect it to be small? He couldn’t keep his animal shapes so well then. He was lucky if he kept his skin in one form for an hour, and only as something small and simple. He could not fly or run then, could not make the earth itself bend to his will. Cassandra had made fun of him often enough in those days, even if she would also be the first to give him a cuddle when he turned into a white bunny rabbit for her amusement.

Percy shifted back into his usual form and stretched his legs as he leaned against the wide, thick truck of the tree. He had been the only one of his mother’s children to inherit her gift. His brothers and sisters had all gone for blades or the arcane or to the temple of Pelor, which was just as well. It had left all of the garden to Percy.

Bile rose in the back of Percy’s throat at the memory of the garden after the liberation of the city. It had been black, gnarled, poisoned to within an inch of even the most generous definition of life. Seeing it had felt like the Briarwoods were murdering his mother all over again. It was her place, then their place, and now just his - a sacred shrine she had cultivated over the course of her tenure as Lady of Whitestone, standing desecrated and broken. If he squinted, Percy could just see the huge labyrinth that stretched from the castle to the forest beyond, and the stone statue of Melora that reached up from its center.

The de Rolos had never been god fearing people, his mother least of all. Does the earth need worship to know it must grow? Does the fire listen to prayer? Does the water heed requests at the promise of gold and sacrifice? Does the air cease to chill and blow when there is no one left to will it so? Perhaps that reverence, that knowledge that the natural world would go on with or without you, was a kind of worship in its own way, Percy thought. His mother may have never worn the sunburst of Pelor as his father’s people had, but her bracelets of twisted heather and vine, her necklaces and crowns of flowers, and her pendants of wood and stone, were her holy symbols, just the same.

Whitestone stretched before Percy’s perch, from the very edge of the forests to the north where the mountain was just thinking of lifting up to meet the sky, far to the valley’s end and the path south to the wide world. It all felt so big, even after Percy had crossed so much of it with his friends, even after trials of earth and fire and air. His mother had never told him about the Aramente or about the tribe she had left behind on a mountain in the snow to find her own way. The mountains around Stillbend had taught him two things about his mother: she had never been a Headmaster, and his grandfather still mourned her.

The Ashari were not his family, not really. Percy found himself smiling a little at that word, family. Five years ago, it had meant a mother, a father, and a veritable stockade of siblings. Now, it was a rag tag group of assholes who had become heroes quite by accident. Was it an accident? Percy blinked and for a moment he thought he saw a woman, looming tall in black robes and a white mask, a hundred thousand weaving threads bound to each of her fingers. Was anything ever by accident?

Percy shook his head and sat up. Such questions were beyond his realm, and he was happy to leave them to others for a time. The sun was just cresting over the western ridge of hills when he leapt from the tree and slipped back into a hawk. As he flew down past the tree tops and back towards Whitestone, he repeated the words his mother had taught him as she watched him nurse small animals back to the health and grow flowers from winter’s frost. I am the land. I live so long as Whitestone lives.

The castle windows stood open on the first floor and Percy swooped into one of them, taking a sharp turn to the left of the entrance hall and down a flight of stairs. Vax’ildan would still be at prayers, he thought. Percy wondered if Vax actually knew any true prayers to the Raven Queen or if he was making it up as he went along, and decided it was probably a little bit of both.

Percy ducked under the stone archway that led to the temple and dived towards the floor. He landed as a hawk with a flurry of feathers and rose as a large white wolf shaking out his fur.

Vax’ildan didn’t move when Percy walked into the temple. His eyes were closed, his lips moving quickly in prayers Percy only half heard. May our Lady guide us and protect us as we serve her will…may we have the wisdom to know what can change and know when to witness only…strike true, fly high… Percy laid down on his stomach a few feet back, head tilted on crossed paws as he stared at the back of Vax’s head, his dark hair loose around his shoulders. He never got tired of watching Vax’s piety grow, even if he didn’t always understand his devotion.

Vax grew quiet after a few minutes and Percy’s ears perked up when he saw him put his right hand on the ground next to him, palm up. Percy scooted forward so his nose just touched the tips of his fingers, a whine rising out of his throat.

“Hello,” Vax laughed as he turned to look down at him. His fingers were quick and light as they moved to scratch at the thick fur behind Percy’s ears. “Did you know I was praying for you?” Percy leaned into his hand and whined again. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Percy stretched and arched his back, slipping out of his wolf form and back to normal over the span of a breath. Vax’s fingers were still buried in the white hair at the base of his neck.

“That’s still a little weird,” he says. “Watching you do that. Not bad, just…weird.” Percy shifted up so he was sitting with his legs crossed and raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve watched me shift before,” he said. “You all have.”

“I know but it’s different when it’s with everyone else,” Vax said with a shrug. “When it’s just us, it’s different. It’s…it’s…”

“Intimate?” Percy prompted. It was hard to tell in the dark of the temple, but Percy could have sworn he saw pink creeping up Vax’s neck.

“Yes. Intimate.”  

Never trust anyone who says they love you, if they haven’t seen you without your skin on.  Percy pushed his mother’s voice to the back of his mind and learned forward to kiss Vax, one hand braced at the front of Vax’s armor. The fingers at the back of his head stiffened before threading anew into his hair. They were both still so shy, painfully so whenever Percy would look back on their little trysts hours later. This thing, this bond they had started to weave together, was still new, like a bud waiting for a burst of sunlight to help it grow, and Percy feared more than anything that running headlong towards it would be akin to ripping the whole plant up by the root. Still, he had never thought he could take to this kind of affection, to softness and gentility and care. Where even a few weeks ago, every kiss and touch would be a contest, a battleground, now they were starting to mellow into conversations, to explorations, and Percy found that he didn’t mind not having to fight for everything he wanted.

When their lips did finally part, Percy leaned forward and press his forehead to Vax’s. “Intimate isn’t so bad, you know.” Vax’ildan smiled. He lifted his hand from Percy’s hair to press his palm to the side of his face.

“No. Not so bad at all. Come on,” he said. “We’re already late for dinner and I don’t doubt my sister will march down here and drag us out herself, no matter what compromising position we threaten her with.” They both stood and Percy noticed for the first time now noticeably dark it had become, even through the small windows that opened the temple to the outdoors. He groaned inwardly. Vax wasn’t the only one with a sister who had no qualms about having his head for lack of propriety. He started towards the door, and had just reached the stairs to the castle proper when he heard Vax’ildan’s footsteps stop beside him.

“Percival…do you ever feel like there’s something heavy just weighing down on all of us?” Vax asked. Percy looked back at him and saw Vax’s head still turned towards the alter, his gaze level at the image of the Raven Queen he had placed there upon their return from Duskmeadow. His fingers brushed against the back of Percy’s hand before joining with his and squeezing hard.

“It’s the world, Vax,” Percy said, giving his hand a squeeze in return. “Did you expect it to be small?”

[dancerwrites]

A Deep Breath and Steady Hands - Chapter 4

Summary: When his family is killed by visitors to Whitestone and Julius is the only one to escape their clutches, he loses his faith and seeks justice on his own power. But fate seems to have a different idea, when he ends up in the path of a certain group of mercenaries and he finds something he’s been missing. Rating: Teen and up Words to date: 11109

[read from the beginning on AO3] {read from the beginning on tumblr}

So this took me a very long time for two reasons: 1) It kind of wouldn't end? It just kept going, and I just kept wanting to add things, and then it needed to close up somehow, so here we are with almost 4k words in one chapter xD 2) I've got two weeks left of school (including finals) and I'm seriously so exhausted. Physics sucks, and while my other classes are good, I'm also applying to graduate school this summer and working on getting a job and still practicing for performances coming up ^_^. That being said, thank you all for sticking with me and coming back for another chapter!

Re: school, there probably won't be a chapter next week b/c of school stresses and everything. I know where the story is going, but I need some time to get the words on paper and free time is not something I have over the next two weeks :/ I might write some smaller things here on my tumblr, and I'll post when I'm planning on updating again, when I start figuring out my life! ;)

Less than three, and I hope you enjoy this chapter - I liked exploring Julius' thoughts about everyone, and we'll get to see more of that in the coming chapters!

Chapter Summary: Julius meets the rest of the gang, and gets acquainted with some of the... stranger aspects of the SHITs."Lately, I've been, I've been losing sleep/Dreaming about the things that we could be/.../Old, but I'm not that old/Young, but I'm not that bold/And I don't think the world is sold/On just doing what we're told..." -"Counting Stars", OneRepublic

Chapter 4: Not Quite Sold

After several long hours of making their way through the forest south of Jorenn Village, Vax’s sister found them a clearing they could use to make camp. It was pitch black, and cloudy enough overhead that only a couple stars shone down on them – not nearly enough to provide light to see by – but Tiberius conjured several orbs of light that hung in midair, illuminating the surrounding area.  

The rest of the group seemed to have a system, and Julius watched from the edge of the clearing as the goliath dug them a fire pit and the dragonborn cleared away small rocks and twigs with a repeated flick of his wrist. The rest of them were unpacking their bags, laying out their bedrolls in a comfortable enough silence that it was clear they had followed the routine many times before.

Julius hung back, not wanting to place his things where they wouldn’t be appreciated by the others. He noted that the twins laid their knapsacks next to each other, and that the gnomes seemed to be sticking together as well, and wondered how he fit in their strange little group.

Looking around the rest of the clearing, by the light of one of the orbs, Julius saw something in the woods to his right. A large form moved through the trees, not conspicuous, but not hidden either.

Julius approached the tree line slowly, trying to see what was watching them. It didn’t seem malevolent, but one couldn’t be too careful, especially when they were still close to the Umbra Hills.  

He froze in place when he realized it was the form of a bear snuffling around the ground, seemingly unperturbed by so many humans close by. While Julius wasn’t sure why the bear hadn’t taken notice of them, he didn’t want to take the risk of it charging.

Cautiously edging closer, Julius noted that it wasn’t too large a bear, certainly not as large as some that roamed the Alabaster Sierras – perhaps if he ran at it, sword out, he might scare it away. Perhaps their goliath companion would be a better choice – certainly larger and hardier – but glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the goliath was starting their fire, strangely intent on striking the rock on flint.

Making a, probably stupid, decision, Julius started to draw his sword. Unfortunately, the bear seemed to hear, his head rising up, his large eyes gleaming as they caught the reflection of Tiberius’ magical lights.

Julius froze, his sword halfway out of its sheath, staring down a predator that he was suddenly very sure wouldn’t be scared away by him and his sword.

His idea had indeed, in retrospect, been quite stupid.

“Trinket, did you find something?” came a female voice from behind Julius, who nearly jumped out of his skin at the surprise.

Vax’s sister strode past Julius, and he felt a rising horror in his chest as the slight woman approached the bear, oblivious to the potential danger.

“I really don’t think you should-“ Julius managed to get out, his voice sounding like Percival’s before his growth spurt, before the bear burst through the tree line toward them and he backed away, drawing his sword the rest of the way and holding it before him.

He then watched in fascination as the bear, which held a brace of foxes in its jaws, dropped the animals at the half-elf’s feet and butted its head against her chest, not unlike an oversized dog.  

“Oh, good boy!” she exclaimed, rubbing his head and scratching behind his ears.

Julius still stood there, his sword arm falling to the side, limp, as he watched their interaction. He had obviously vastly misjudged the situation.

Feeling dazed, Julius continued to watch as the half-elf planted kisses on the furry face of the creature, who had actually slumped to the ground, tongue out and eyes closed in what couldn’t be anything but pure bliss.

“I don’t get it either.”

Julius started for the second time in as many minutes, spinning to see the purple-clad gnome standing beside him, twirling a stray lock of hair around his finger. “I mean, it’s a bear, and she treats it like a kitten.”

“This is… normal?”

“Yep. That’s Vex, and that’s her bear, Trinket,” the gnome said with a roll of his eyes. It was apparent that the creature was not the gnome’s favorite member of their group.

“But isn’t her brother-“

“Vax’ildan and Vex’ahlia,” the gnome said, gesturing to each as he said their name, “Vax and Vex for short, practically identical twins. It’s not confusing at all, of course.”

“I… can imagine.”

“Just say one or the other – the right one will probably answer, and even if it’s the wrong one at least you tried,” the gnome said, shrugging.

Julius simply stared at him for a moment, confused, then realized that his sword was still hanging at his side.

He sheathed it as quietly as he could, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed, but everyone was still busy with their own tasks. Vex’ahlia, Vex, had picked up the limp bodies of the foxes and was bringing them over to the fire. The other gnome, Keyleth, and Vax came out of the woods on the other side of the clearing, mostly with more fuel and kindling for the fire, but also with various mushrooms and plants that would apparently be added to some sort of stew that Tiberius was already stirring, babbling to the others as he did so.

“I’m Scanlan, by the way,” the gnome beside him said, also watching the others. “Scanlan Shorthalt, Bard Extraordinaire, previous member of Dr. Dranzel’s infamous travelling troupe, and current leader of the SHITs.”

“That’s nice,” Julius said blithely, before realizing what Scanlan had said. “Hold on, leader- leader of the shits?”

“That’s us,” Vax confirmed from right behind Julius, making him jump for the third time that night. (He obviously needed to brush up on his awareness. This was getting ridiculous.) “The Super High Intensity Team. Don’t ask me why that’s the name we settled on, but that’s us.”

He gestured to the rest of their campsite, to the goliath, the other gnome, Vex, Keyleth, and Tiberius. A ragtag group of mercenaries named “the SHITs”.

Julius couldn’t help but think of how he would have reacted to them two years prior. Entitled Julius Gatremaine von Musel Klossowski de Rolo the First, heir to Whitestone, eldest of his family, would have scoffed at these vagabonds, wondering why they didn’t just find some place to settle down and make something of themselves. Now, Julius knew only too well the life of a peasant instead of a lord, and while mercenaries still weren’t his favored company, he better understood their place in the world. And they had rescued him from whatever awaited him at Stonefell’s (or the Briarwoods’) hands. That counted for something.

“It’s a good name!” Scanlan protested, crossing his arms over his chest. “And we came up with it together.”

“You and Pike and Keyleth came up with it while drunk and it stuck.”

“Same difference.”

“Oh, go help Tiberius with the cooking,” Vax scoffed. “He could always use an inspiring song to make a better stew.”

“But I’m getting to know our new companion, Julius,” Scanlan said, sweeping an arm toward Julius. “We’re becoming the best of friends!”

“I got the impression I was getting to know you, not the other way around,” Julius said wryly, pursing his lips.

“It’s a give-and-take deal here,” Scanlan said pointedly, shaking his head like Julius was an amusing child. “First I give, and then I receive.”

“Mmm,” Julius hummed, warily eyeing the man, not sure what he was planning on asking. Julius looked up to where Vax had been standing, hoping for some support, but the man had already disappeared into the shadows of the night without a trace.

“So, how are you liking this “life on the road” thing so far?” Scanlan asked.

“I’ve travelled on my own before now – it’s not too bad,” Julius said, grateful for the innocuous question.

“Ah, a young man who can hold his own, then. But even against a pet bear?”

Julius felt his cheeks flush slightly, but he was proud of his cool response. “I’m hardly a novice to hard living. I could have handled him.”

It was a half-truth – while he’d certainly spent his share of days sleeping under the stars and keeping himself safe from beasts, he’d spent most of his life in Whitestone. He’d then stayed for a couple years in a town near the outskirts of Kymal, practicing his skills with sword and magic, hoping to one day return to Whitestone and bring justice to the Briarwoods for their crimes.

“Ah yes, one ferocious bear is no problem for the likes of you,” Scanlan said sagely, nodding with an air of all seriousness. “But have you ever run for your life through the woods? Dodged away from the authorities and only getting away by the skin of your teeth?”

Julius felt his chest tighten and sucked in a deep breath. “You’d be surprised.”

“Really?” Scanlan asked, nodding almost as if he were proud. “Color me impressed. But what would a pretty boy like you be running from, with those rugged good looks?”

Julius lifted his hand to the beard that had grown around his mouth in the past fortnight, trying to let on to the frantic beating of his heart beneath his chest. He wasn’t sure if Scanlan was being rhetorical or if he desired an answer, but Julius felt his breath grow short as memories flooded him.

He heard the crunch of fresh snow beneath his boots, remembered Oliver teasing him, harmlessly, about being the “pretty boy” of the family (with the indignance and scorn that could only come from a younger brother).

He saw crimson splotches on the ground, heard the baying of wolfhounds from behind him.

He remembered a low snarl in his ear, his wrists held behind his back – Sylas Briarwood asking his wife if they could “keep the pretty one”.

Cassandra’s arm was linked with his own as she tried to match his longer strides. She stumbled, fell-

He heard Whitney’s voice in his head. Was it boys or girls who were meant to be pretty? Why couldn’t both be “pretty”? Julius hadn’t been able to answer.

Then he saw the river behind the castle, rushing thick and fast with melting snow, rising up to meet him as his heart shot up into his throat and dark smoke swirled through his lungs-

“Julius?”

Julius sucked in a deep breath, coming back to the present. He flinched as something touched his arm, and pulled away, trying to regulate his breathing.

There was a tense silence between them as Julius tried to stay silent and still, forcing away the prickling at the backs of his eyelids with frustration. He’d studied with Teilo for a year or so, been on his own for at least two, and here he was, close to breaking down in front of someone he’d known for less than a day.

He needed sleep, and for people to stop asking him questions.

The two of them stood for a moment, the chatter from the rest of the group carrying across the clearing, laughter punctuating their words.

He turned back to Scanlan, who looked mildly concerned.

“As I said,” Julius murmured, doing his best to let his shoulders relax while keeping his face impassive. “You’d be surprised.”

Scanlan’s expression changed quickly, nearly giving Julius whiplash as the raised eyebrow and slight frown morphed into a jovial smile.

“A man with secrets – excellent!” he proclaimed.

Julius stared at him for a moment, nonplussed. “Because you wish to discover them, or because it gives you a reason not to trust me?”

“On the contrary, my good Julius – none of our group is without a secret, as it is with most of the world. But a man with secrets is a man with layers. It means there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

Scanlan winked and tapped his temple with a finger. “You might discover some of them if you stick around a while.”

A whistle from near the fire caught his attention, then, and he perked up.

“But not right now!” Scanlan said, waving toward the goliath, who was holding up a bowl and grinning. “It’s time for food!”

And Scanlan disappeared in a shimmer of purple light, reappearing on the goliath’s shoulders and snatching the bowl away. The larger man roared briefly in jest, but Scanlan just danced around his shoulders, not spilling a drop of the stew, as he whistled a happy tune. The others laughed and Keyleth, a small smile pulling at her lips, filled another, much bigger, bowl for the goliath’s dinner.

“He likes showing off, he does.”

Julius was proud not to jump when the half-elf’s voice came from behind him again. Instead he turned slowly, locking eyes with the man, but Vax only smiled, flipping one of his daggers between his fingers.

Julius rolled his eyes. It was exactly something Oliver or Whitney would have done – sneaking up from behind while their quarry was otherwise occupied. Once upon a time he’d been used to checking his surroundings for eavesdropping younger siblings, but now…

He wondered how much Vax had heard – if he would ask about what Scanlan hadn’t – but Vax simply twirled the dagger around his finger one last time and slid it back into a place on his belt.

“You know, Grog can eat like a horse if he wants to. You should probably get some food while there’s still some left.”

Julius raised an eyebrow. “Grog?”

“The goliath.”

“Named after an alcoholic beverage?”

“Ale is one of his passions,” Vax said with a smirk and a shrug.

Julius glanced over to where the goliath sat, scooping up stew with his fingers and talking through large bites.

“Mmmhmm,” he hummed.

His stomach grumbled slightly, wanting sustenance after hours of tramping through a forest, but Julius still felt wary about approaching the circle. The rest of them were talking together, eating together, and though it was not in a large hall with a good table and silverware, it evoked a strange sense of nostalgia that Julius hadn’t expected.

“No one’s gonna question you tonight – we’re all dead tired,” Vax said knowingly, actually grabbing Julius’ arm and leading him toward the rest of the SHITs. “Get some food and get to bed – you look half-starved and dead tired.”

Julius stumbled forward as the shorter man pulled him along, then tugged his arm away from Vax under the pretense of smoothing his shirt, pretending as though the grip on his arm hadn’t brought back that heightened sense of worry and anxiety. Vax didn’t seem to notice, but it could have been because the half elf had already forged ahead and gotten a bowl of stew from his sister, sitting on the ground with her to eat it.

“Here you go, Julius!” Keyleth said as he came over, holding a bowl out to him, a smile on her face. “It’s not a lot, but we’ve got some bread to go with it, and the fox meat is quite good, a little tough, but…”

She then showed him just how good it was by using her fork to take out a piece and stick it in her mouth, humming as she did so.  

Julius couldn’t help but grin at the sight of her nodding profusely as she chewed, still smiling around the bite.

Keyleth gestured to his bowl and raised an eyebrow as she swallowed, so Julius took his fork and speared one of the small pieces of the meat, bringing it to his own mouth.

It was certainly more than “a little” tough, but luckily Tiberius, or Grog – whoever had been cooking – hadn’t overcooked the meat, and it was perfectly edible. The mix of flavors was not one he was entirely familiar with, especially as his general fare since setting out on his own was rather bland, but it was certainly better than anything he’d had in a while; the rich, earthy scent of the mushrooms and the thickness of the potatoes added in brought a nice fullness to the dish.

He finished the bite and swallowed, giving a nod to Keyleth and turning to the others, who he realized had fallen silent, watching him.

“It’s very good, thank you,” he said, straightening up as he felt the accent of his childhood push through more than he had intended it to.

“You are most welcome,” Tiberius said, smiling and raising his own bowl in a sort-of toast. “And please, if you want more, simply ask.”

Julius nodded his thanks and, sitting beside Keyleth, continued eating as conversation slowly resumed.  

The sound of metal sliding against metal came from his left and Julius turned to see the armored gnome approaching him, holding out the end of a loaf. So close for the first time, he noted that while he had thought her hair to be a solid dark brown or black color, it was actually interspersed with purple streaks. To have achieved such a bright color was an interesting feat, especially with the, apparently, darker color of her natural hair, and Julius had a strange, curious desire to ask her how she had done it.

“Here’s some bread,” she said, her voice lighter and gentler than he had expected, her smile wide. Julius thanked her, nodding as he took it, and kept his mouth shut. It wasn’t polite to pry, especially when they had only just met.

“I’m Pike, by the way,” she added, stretching out her hand again. “Pike Trickfoot.”

“Julius.”

He shook her hand, and noted the pendant she wore around her neck – a familiar enough sight back home, especially at the temple.

“Are you religious?” he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral. It wasn’t that he disdained those who worshipped the gods – if they took comfort in the supposed providence of deities, then good for them. But there was little doubt in Julius’ mind that while the gods might have smiled on the de Rolos and Whitestone at one point, they were no longer involved.

“Oh, yes!” Pike exclaimed, pulling the pendant fully out from behind her armor. “I’m a cleric of Sarenrae.”

With what was unmistakably a holy symbol now revealed, Julius noted the iconic wings stretching up from the back of the small figure, and the halo around the effigy of the goddess. Sarenrae had never held a presence or temple in Whitestone, but all the de Rolo children had studied the various deities of the land, and the Everlight had been included in those lessons.

“Well met,” Julius acknowledged. While a cleric seemed an odd choice of occupation for someone who was, at the very least, a part-time mercenary, he wondered if Pike was preaching Sarenrae’s light across Exandria, using “the SHITs” as a mechanism for her ministry. “Sarenrae is the goddess of redemption, yes?”

“Of healing and second chances, yeah,” Pike said, rubbing the holy symbol between her fingers. “She’s not very well known, but her following is growing. She gave me a second chance, and now I use most of what I’ve from her to keep these idiots from dying all the time.”

There was some varied protests from around the fire, including several “Come on, now”s and an “Oh, that’s not fair” from Keyleth, but everyone was grinning.

“You’re the best of us, Pike my darling,” Scanlan threw out with a wink and a blown kiss. “How could we ever match your splendor?”

“You couldn’t,” Pike said, rolling her eyes with a grin. “But if you all didn’t get injured so often, it would make my job ten times easier, and less stressful.”

“You’re so powerful though, Pike,” interjected Grog, the goliath. “That’s what makes you special – you can fight, but you can also do the magic thing and heal us up. I mean, Scanlan and Keyleth can heal us a bit, but I wouldn’t give you up for anything.”

“Thank you, Grog,” Pike said, a shy smile pulling at her lips as her cheeks flushed pink. “But it’s nothing, really.”

There was a slew of protests once again, and the conversation continued in that vein for a while as Julius returned to his stew and bread, content to simply watch the rest of them interact. The nostalgia was growing strong once again, though it was tainted with a deep-set pain that he couldn’t quite shake.

Soon enough, the group had fallen silent and a wordless, unanimous decision was made among them to turn in for the night as they handed their bowls over to Tiberius to be cleaned with magic.

Vax and Vex readied themselves for the first watch, taking up positions by the fire, and Julius was about to offer to take the second – it was the least he could do when they had saved him – but before he could, Pike had come up to his side, standing tall despite her shorter stature.

“We’ve got watches covered for tonight,” she said, patting his uninjured side. “I noticed you favoring your leg, though – is there anything I can do to help?”

Julius frowned and shifted his weight back and forth, testing the pressure put on the limb. There was a slight twinge of pain, but nothing serious – certainly nothing in need of magical healing.

“I’m fine for the time being,” he said, the corner of his lip quirking as he watched one of her eyebrows rise high on her forehead, obviously dubious of his assurance.

“Honestly,” Julius said with a chuckle, bending his knee and straightening it again. “I do believe it’s alright. It’s sore, but most of me is after our jaunt through the woods. I think tomorrow I’ll be feeling much better.”

Pike examined his face for a long moment. “If you say so,” she said, though she still wore that disbelieving expression that told him she’d be keeping an eye on him.  

“If it’s anything more than a mild ache tomorrow I’ll let you take a look at it,” Julius said, which seemed to mollify the smaller woman.

She wished him a good night’s sleep and wandered back over to Grog, leaving Julius to lay out his bedroll. Tiberius extinguished the magical lights, revealing the presence of faint stars in the sky, and the rest of them fell silent after a few moments. Julius laid down in the place he had claimed on the edge of their bivouac and stared up at the stars for a long while, trying to find the pictures made from them that he’d learned oh so long ago. It was hard, especially as he had never been one for the study of the heavens, not like Ludwig, or even Cassandra, who had asked their mother when she would be able to stay up late and actually see all the constellations she’d only ever read about in books.  

Julius remembered Johanna saying that she had to wait until she was thirteen.

The Briarwoods had come two months before her birthday.

Julius shuddered and turned on his bedroll to watch the flickering fire and the twins, who were having a hushed conversation. He had a strange urge to stay up, to keep an eye on the, frankly, questionable company he’d found for himself, but after only a couple minutes he felt his eyelids drooping and his breathing slowing.

Shifting his arm so a bump on the ground wasn’t digging into him, Julius readjusted his bag which was doubling as pillow. And, after only a minute or two more, he drifted off to the sound of wind in the trees, the distant hooting of an owl, and the faint crackling of the fire.

[gleefully-macabre]

I’m not actually sure where I’m going with this, if anywhere.

A Scanlan/Pike story where Vox Machina never met Pike, taking place after the Underdark.

1/?

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Pike burst out when her great-great-grandfather announced he had contacted a distant relative to arrange a marriage for her.

“You’re of marrying age, young Pike,” Wilhand stated, his stout arms crossed.  “It’s your duty to carry on the Trickfoot line, for Her sake.” He gestured to the small prayer corner, and the statue of Sarenrae, their patron deity.

Pike wilted under his gentle chiding.  “I know, Pawpaw,” she conceded, then immediately brightened. “But all the gnome villages are so far away.  Wouldn’t it make more sense for us to travel there instead of him coming here?”

He chuckled and patted her head.  “Young Grog doesn’t bring you enough tales of his adventures, eh? Want to run off and have your own?”

Pike tried not to grimace at the condescending tone.  Wilhand was several hundred years old, and still saw Pike as a child.  “We could travel with Grog,” she offered. “No one would bother us with a goliath around.”

Wilhand’s smile grew sad, and then vanished entirely. “I know Westruun can be dull, but most of the family has already turned from Sarenrae’s path for us.  And you, Pike. You’re special.  For you to lose Her blessing would be…” His voice cracked and he pressed quavering lips together.

Guilt struck her like a blow.  The story of how Sarenrae changed the course of the Trickfoot family had been told and retold throughout her life.  Yet one by one, each of Wilhand’s children and grandchildren had gone back to the old ways of trickery and thieving.  Pike’s parents had turned to piracy shortly after her birth.  She still dreamed, sometimes, of joining a crew herself and perhaps finding them, even though she had no memory of their faces.  They were most likely dead anyhow. Gnomes did not last long on adventures.

She squeezed his hand. “Grog should be passing by soon,” she said. “Maybe… maybe he can deliver the letters for you?”

Wilhand smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You’re a good girl, Pike.”

She smiled weakly. If only that were true.

*   *   *

“I’m running out of rhymes,” Scanlan complained.  “Like, bike, tyke, that one Vax won’t let me say anymore.”

Vax grunted from the back of his sister’s pet bear.  He had emerged from the Underdark somewhat worse for wear, with half his foot destroyed. The healers in Emon were occupied in undoing Lady Kima’s paralysis. The state of a thief’s foot meant little compared to the life of a paladin.

It was Grog, of all people, who had the solution.  “Me buddy, Pike,” he’d shouted.  “She been healing things since we was li’l.  Probably grow the whole fuckin’ foot back.”

“Probably charge a fortune for it as well,” Vex muttered, thinking of the heavy purse of gold waiting for them in Kraghammer.

“Grog wouldn’t lie to us, would he?” Keyleth asked, not as quietly as she had intended.

“Not intentionally,” Percy answered.  “But I wouldn’t be surprised if this friend peddles false potions.”

“Then why did we come all this way?”

“No one had a better idea.”

Scanlan plucked absently at his lute while the kids bickered, but inspiration remained out of reach.  He had some idea of what this Pike chick looked like based on Grog’s infrequent stories of his childhood friend.  “She’s a monstah,” he would growl with pride.  Probably another goliath, Scanlan thought, fingers dancing across the strings.  Or an orc. Huge, scarred up from fighting. The only way to earn Grog’s respect was to kick his ass, and Pike was clearly Grog’s favorite person.  Scanlan sighed with much drama, his ennui ignored by the rest of the crew.  He had been bereft of female companionship since Kraghammer. That elf had been a monster in her own right; he was in the mood for something softer.

Maybe Westruun had a brothel.

As thought deliberately adding to the tragedy of Scanlan’s life, Grog led them passed the entrance to Westruun to the outskirts of town, near something called a Bramblewood.  Long practice of keeping up with taller people did not prevent him from falling somewhat behind, and he brought up the rear of the party when Grog motioned for them to stop.  Peering between legs, he caught a glimpse of a house far in the distance, mentally groaning at the thought of so many times more.  Instead of striding ahead, however, Grog leaned his head back and let out a battle roar.   Everyone grabbed for their weapons, Vax slipped from the bear’s back to snatch daggers from his belt, all looking around for whatever Grog spotted that they had missed.

The door to the distant house flew open, and a pale creature darted out, headed straight for them. Grog, his weapons untouched, ran forward with a cruel cackle.

Percy blinked, dumbfounded. “Do my glasses need adjustment or…?”

“No,” Vax replied, stunned.  “We see it, too.”

The house was not so far away as it seemed. Rather, it was small. And the small creature that ran from the building met Grog in the center of the field, leaping into the air and punching his fist in a display so pathetic, her fingers should have squeaked.

Keyleth gestured towards the duo.  “I was not expecting… anything like that.”

Scanlan, for once, had nothing to say.  Not a goliath or an orc or a particularly fearsome dwarf.  Grog’s friend Pike was a gnome.  A lovely, hopefully single female gnome.

He cast Prestidigitation on himself to banish the dust from the road and cursed his sturdy armor.  The burgundy leather was a flashier color than most people preferred, but he had nicer clothes tucked away in his pack. No time to get to them, or get changed. He’d go for Rakish Swashbuckler and hope for the best.

“You can call him ‘Percy”,” Grog said following Percy’s inevitably long introduction.  And, uh… who’d I miss?”

“You saved the best for last, of course,” Scanlan declared, parting the twins’ cloaks like a curtain and stepping into the center of the group before Pike’s startled blue eyes.  She was even prettier up close, he

decided with a thrill.  “Scanlan Shorthalt, the leader of this motley group.”  He bowed with a flourish, stepping closer as he straightened, and slipped his hand under hers. “We’ve heard much of your might,” he said, leaning close and allowing his voice to drop to a honeyed murmur. “But not nearly enough of your beauty.”

“Oh,” she breathed, her eyes wide.  Scanlan was just about to discard subtlety altogether and steal a kiss from those perfect pink lips, but a hand pulled him off his feet by the back of his shirt.

“This ain’t no Lady Favors House,” Grog hissed.  Not in anger, but in explanation, as though trying to stop Scanlan from embarrassing himself. Hah, fat chance.

“I was just being polite,” Scanlan lied.

“You really travel with them?” Pike asked, fascination written clearly across her face.

Scanlan struck a pose, ignoring the fact that Grog still held him aloft. “Why, dear, in my time, I’ve traveled all across Tal’dorei and beyond. I’d be happy to tell you of my travels, perhaps over dinner?”

“As fun as it is watching Scanlan get shot down, I think gangrene has set in.”  Vax held onto his sister while he pulled off his boot, much to her disgust.

“Ugh, brother! Your feet smell terrible.”

“If someone would heal me, it might not smell so bad.”

“Oh, dear!” Pike rushed over to examine the remains of his foot.  Scanlan shot Vax a glare for stealing her attention away. “You’d better come inside.  I might need to pray over this for a while.”

To everyone’s surprise, they all fit in the tiny house.  Grog, ducked in and settled near the fireplace as though he had done so every day of his life. Which, Scanlan realized belatedly, he likely had.

Pike settled Vax on a chair near a small alter in the corner. “Pawpaw’s at the market right now, but does anybody want some tea?  I mean, I can’t actually make tea very well…”

“Foot please,” Vax demanded, sounding very similar to Trinket when he was begging at the table.

Abandoning her uncertain hostess duties, Pike knelt over Vax’s partial foot, took the pendant hanging around her neck into her hands and closed her eyes in prayer.  Scanlan took the opportunity to admire her profile.

To everyone’s shock, after only a few minutes had passed, a bright glow sifted through her fingers.  Pike pressed the symbol to his stump with one hand and held his heel with the other hand when he tried to pull away. A few more minutes passed in silence aside from Vax’s panicked yelps, then the glow faded. Pike sighed in satisfaction and opened her eyes to examine the newly grown foot.

Vex blinked at her twin’s limb. “Wow.”

"Indeed," Percy echoed in an awed tone.  "Well done."

Scanlan said nothing, a thousand verses suddenly running through his mind.  In Pike, he had found something far better than a fling.  

He found a muse.