#beau hating yasha's guts lol

[flurry-of-beaus-pop-pop]

Marisha apparently saying that Beau hated Yasha's gut in the beginning of Campaign 2...

Girl, I am in the middle of a campaign 2 rewatch right now and no you did now lmao

[sociallyawkwardfoxwriter]

For the CR asks: (don’t hate me you don’t have to do them all lol) 🍭 🍺 🌸 🤜🏾 🔥 👁 ⚡️? :)

That sounds like a challenge! (Also, I’m happy to do them all!)

🍭 - Favorite Jester Moment: The cupcake. I tried to think of something else, but that move was just so amazing and smart and took a lot of guts to do!

🍺 - Favorite Nott Moment: It was absolutely terrifying, but Nott staying behind to help Jester with the blue dragon. She still has a hard time believing she’s brave, but it’s amazing moments like that show she is.

🌸 - Favorite Caduceus Moment: This one is a little silly, but it was absolutely a peak sibling move and I loved him for it. Sneaking up behind Calliope and playing the bone flute. 

🤜🏽 - Favorite Beau Moment: Ughhhhh, this is so hard! I’m going to go with when she set the rules with Dairon in the Xhorhaus. I think asserting herself as the one leading the investigation there really showed how much she’s grown and her confidence in her abilities and how she can continue to grow!

🔥 - Favorite Caleb Moment: The beacon offer would probably be the obvious one, but I think I have to go with standing up to Trent at the Sanatorium. I was so proud of him!

👁 - Favorite Fjord Moment: Tossing the falchion in the lava! I think that was the final moment where he accepted himself and decided to move forward. Also, all the times he called the Wildmother mom. 

⚡️ - Favorite Yasha Moment: The wing reveal dream sequence! It was such an amazing moment for her character. Finally breaking the chains she’s been keeping on herself and moving forward. It was beautiful!

[unicyclehippo]

Can we get more of the “beau feels powerless/dragon didn’t give anything” story? I wanna know what zolly’s opinion on the matter was lol.

the dragon is coming with them, apparently. the trek down the mountainside takes much of the morning—would have taken longer but about an hour to the base, they had heard the cacophony of ice and stone and fury as zoelfir tore apart the remainder of what had been their nest, and had become their prison. the avalanche that slid and tumbled and tore down the mountain as zolly did so had caleb and jester leaping from the rocks as immense eagles, their friends clutched in each claw.

the tressveld forest clings tight to the base of the mountain, dense and dark and from the air is looks like a skirt of green rippling out in hills and vales from the ivory peaks. caleb and jester set down on the edge, a wary eye turned to the mountain in case the avalanche follows them so far.

‘so...back to xhorhaus?’

caleb screeches.

‘dude, shut the fuck up. do you want every dire wolf from miles around to come try and eat us?’

caleb shuffles, bobs his head and taps her hard on the skull. tries to, anyway. beau ducks away, raps a knuckle on his beak.

‘are we teleporting or what?’

‘well if you had stayed to talk with zolly last night,’ nott begins, sounding for all the world like she’s half a second from adding something like, this is your own fault, beauregard, if you had been listening you’d know...

beau scowls hard. ‘it’s a yes or a fucking no, nott.’

‘a fucking no? the no has to be fucking?’

‘nott,’

‘we’re waiting for zolly,’ she finally concedes. ‘caleb is taking us to nicodranas.’

beau’s eyes slide across to jester on instinct; it’s hard to tell as an eagle whether she’s happy about that, though beau is pretty sure she would be. it’s been a few weeks, maybe a month, since they’ve managed to make their way to the coast and she knows jester has been missing her mama.

‘oh.’

a large dark eye rolls to looks at beau very quickly before the eagle turns her attention back to the mountain. powerful muscles in the legs and wings bunch and jester-eagle lifts into the air, buffeting pine needles and debris into everyone’s faces as she flies up, circles around where they are. after a moment, they see what the eagle eyes had seen first—the awesome form of a silver dragon emerging from the fog clouds above and winding its way toward them.

caleb drops his form, pulling yasha and fjord aside to clear a large enough space for his circle. the ground is frozen almost solid and they have to work diligently for the few minutes it takes for zoelfir to land a hundred or so feet from them and transform.

the dragon has taken the same form—a short, darker skinned woman with silver hair—and waves cheerfully when they emerge from the treeline. they’re limping slightly; no injury apparent but perhaps exhaustion, perhaps unused to exertion after so long being bound.

‘is this someone you know?’ beau asks when zolly is closer.

‘hmm? this?’ the dragon gestures toward their form. ‘yes, indeed! excellent question, keen mind. yes, she was a friend of mine oh, some years back now.’

‘what’d she do?’

‘do?’ zolly asks, forehead crinkling into many lines.

‘y’know. was she a knight or like a wizard or something?’

‘she made the most exquisite tapestries.’ zolly’s eyes grow distant, taking on a faint sheen as their concentration slips. ‘i had one commissioned but i was...indisposed before i could collect it.’

‘indisposed?’ fjord asks. he wipes a drop of sweat from his forehead, which crackles like ice in the chilly morning.

‘they were locked up,’ beau says. jerks their chin toward the mountain.

zolly grimaces. ‘indeed. well, onto the coast, yes?’

‘take the first portal outta here, hey? drown your sorrows at the sea side.’

‘what is it called now?’ zolly continues, though their eyes drift over to beau. she’d said it as a snide nothing comment, but dragons must have keen hearing because that look certainly says that they heard. ‘i’d dearly love to look at that map again, if i might.’

‘menagerie coast,’ fjord says with a nod, pulling their map case from the bag of holding. ‘nicodranas is—yasha, would you?’

‘oh yah, sure.’

fjord holds the map up flat against yasha’s back, taps his finger against nicodranas. ‘and port domali you asked about, that’s here,’

‘i see, i see, yes,’

‘twelve seconds until completion,’ caleb announces. jester giggles. as though she hadn’t, he continues in a quick, clear monotone. ‘remember to enter the teleportation circle as quickly as possible. all items should be carried on your person. do not run.’

‘why not?’

caleb’s hand, white with chalk, hovers over the final line. he cuts a quick look up to fjord and smiles. ‘you are welcome to try, if you wish,’ he says.

fjord leans sideways, says in a loud whisper, ‘that’s a dare, right?’

‘for sure.’

‘that’s a bad thing, coming from caleb?’

‘for sure.’

‘thought so.’

fjord runs through the circle. when beau emerges, she finds him clutching his face, nose bleeding freely.

‘there’th a wall,’ he tells beau. ‘don’t run.’

//

zoelfir knows yussa, as it turns out. they talk for a night, the mighty nein as yussa’s guest, and later in the night when restlessness strikes her, beau overhears quiet apologies between the regal elf and the dragon. minor explanations but mostly the clinking of tea cups in saucers and the crackling of fire.

beau hesitates between the stairs and the landing, wondering how bad it would be to eavesdrop on these people. but curiosity gnaws at her gut and so she slinks forward to the doorway and presses her back to the wall to listen.

‘—your fault, yusandrin. i never expected you to come looking for me after how we parted,’

‘that? a minor squabble?’

‘then what,’

‘there was a war, zoelfir,’ yussa says, and the voice sounds much older and richer than it ever has with the nein. he sounds like someone who has lived for centuries and not only seen them all unfold but lived in them, truly. ‘there was a war and i called upon you and you didn’t come. now i understand, you had already been trapped but then...’

‘you didn’t come looking for me because i abandoned you first.’

‘you always said it was my ugliest trait,’

‘well, you had to have one, my dear.’

a companionable laugh pulls from yussa, almost reluctantly, or as though he had nearly forgotten how. then,

‘if you don’t come in, little snoop,’ zoelfir says, tone bright and jovial as the glint off silver coins, ‘i shall freeze you where you stand.’

beau’s heart slams in her chest. she considers for a moment retreating up the steps but caught is caught. she steps around the arch, lie on the tip of her tongue—but zoelfir is smiling and yussa just sighs and clicks his fingers and summons a third chair at the fireside.

‘do not tell anyone i know zoelfir,’ is all yussa says. ‘my reputation would never recover.’

‘your reputation would improve and you know it, you bore. beauregard,’ they say, turning that smile on her. ‘couldn’t sleep?’

‘something like that.’

zoelfir casts their attention down to the pack at her side. ‘headed out already?’

beau shifts. sets it down behind the seat. ‘something like that.’

‘mysterious,’ the dragon says, and the small hissing laugh that accompanies their comment isn’t patronising or mocking. just amused.

it sucks. beau wants so badly to hate this dragon, this being who put her mediocrity so clearly into view. but she can’t. they’re fascinating, and effortlessly charming in a way that comes with power and age and a deep and powerful kindness despite what could easily have been centuries of torment.

‘where are you headed?’ yussa asks, floating a cup over to her and looking somewhat impatiently toward his summoned chair.

beau sits. takes the cup. ‘port domali. there’s an archive there and i can see what’s up, or head on to zadash from there maybe. maybe the capital.’

‘no real plans then?’

‘don’t pry, yusandrin.’

‘it’s my business to pry.’ yussa arches a brow. ‘well? i gather from your creeping about my tower in the middle of the night while the rest of your fellows sleep that this is an... unsanctioned journey?’

‘i wouldn’t call it creeping.’

‘yes, let’s focus on the most minor of details, shall we?’ yussa tone doesn’t shift from sharp, cool, but somehow beau knows it’s close to teasing for him. she still allows herself to bristle.

‘i don’t have to tell you shit. we rescued your friend when you couldn’t be assed to check up on them for, what, three hundred fucking years? maybe ask them a few questions before you go poking at me.’

yussa’s lips press flat and white in his bronzed face for a moment, just long enough for beau to think oh shit, and then the moment has passed. yussa turns away from her.

beau watches his eyes. watches him almost start at the glimpse of zoelfir to his right, as though for a split second he thought—feared?—he had made them up. imagined their reunion. yussa’s eyes skate around the round face, linger on the flow of silver hair.

‘you are headed to port domali, are you not?’

zolly smiles. sharp teeth and all. ‘i am. maybe i’ll tag along with the good archivist here,’

‘expositor.’

zoelfir blinks. ‘expositor. how does that sound? yussa can magic us to his nest in that port and we can have a little wander, a little explore, and,’

‘why?’

‘hm?’

‘why would you wanna come with me? is there something in the library you want?’

zoelfir blinks again. dark eyes revert to the dragons natural mercurial silver. ‘my dear, i’m a traveller. i said that the first time we spoke. i want to see everything—it’s all changed, it’s all new again.’ they chuckle. ‘a silver lining.’

‘but why me? you’ll see all kinds of stuff with the others.’

zoelfir shakes their head. ‘you and i aren’t done yet.’

‘done?’

‘i gave the others a boon,’ zoelfir tells her as if she doesn’t know that already, as if it hasn’t been giving her heartburn or the emotional equivalent. to the side, yussa—always so put together, so unshakeable—splutters on his tea. boons? zoelfir ignores him. ‘my debt to them is paid. my debt to you is not.’

‘your...debt?’ beau sets her tea down. lifts a shaking hand to her head, scratches at the shaggy undercut. ‘what?’

‘the boon i owe you. it is unfulfilled.’

‘I—first of all, you don’t owe us shit, of course we were gonna get you out of there, and second—‘ beau hesitates.

‘second?’

‘i—you dont owe me shit,’

‘you already said that.’

‘but—me, i mean. i didn’t help.’

‘nonsense,’ zoelfir waves a hand dismissively. ‘you who found the maps to the sanctum? you who translated the writings in the tomes? who found the door?’

‘i didn’t help you, though,’

‘you are part and party to those who hit a little harder to that fucker,’ zoelfir tells her. ‘and it’s my boon to give, you don’t get to argue about that.’

for all their being probably well over five or six hundred years old, zoelfir sounds about two seconds from adding so there to the end of that announcement.

beau just shakes her head. ‘why didn’t—why not give me a boon then and there?’

‘one didn’t present itself.’ when it’s clear she doesn’t understand—because she doesn’t—zoelfir hums, trying to find the words. ‘the wizard,’

‘caleb.’

‘i could feel his connection with flame intensely. it was both fear and love, shame and desire. the boon showed itself to me easily. the healer,’

‘jester.’

‘was the same. well within my power to give. her love of cold and mischief...’ zoelfir purses their lips as if to whistle and a quick wind escapes them, slightly fogged, and whips through the room. yussa complains as his books and notes ruffle and rustle, shivering on the shelves, but makes no move to stop his friend. ‘the same too with the others. but you,’ zoelfir hums. ‘i don’t know what you want.’

beau doesn’t know whether to believe them or not, so she just sits with it. ‘can i ask for something?’

‘that’s not really how it works.’

‘oh.’

zoelfir smiles. ‘hence, why i wish to travel with you. to understand what would aid you.’

‘maybe some magic fuckin powers so i don’t let down my friends,’ beau mutters.

zoelfir’s eyes turn very cold and shrewd. ‘it is within my power,’ they tell her. ‘would you accept?’

she almost says yes. she almost does, but something in her revolts at the idea of being given something. her whole life she has fought and stolen and scrapped for everything she has and...

‘no,’ zoelfir says, agrees, sitting back in their chair with a nod. ‘you see? a tough nut to crack, you are.’

‘and i do not think these friends of yours would be half so pleased with their lot if you had not been with them, beauregard,’ yussa comments, having recovered from his minor spluttering fit with no apparent damage down to his fine robes. ‘you are remarkably clever. astute. i have been impressed by you.’

beau shrugs. as nice as it is for him to say it, he’s not the one she needs to hear it from. fuck, she’s not sure she needs to hear it from anyone; beau’s whole thing is truth, finding truth, and she knows the truth. she’s a simple magicless human, and her friends need more.

‘how soon can you send me to port domali?’

yussa hesitates. minutely, a fingernail scraping over the curling handle to his cup. ‘as soon as you wish to leave.’

‘now.’

‘now, then,’ yussa agrees, and zoelfir stands with them both. conjures a pack from somewhere and a slight walking stick. similar to beau’s staff but of a silvery wood. birch, maybe?

‘aesthetics,’ zoelfir says, rather delightedly. ‘shall we?’