#caleb and nott make brief appearences

[mnemememory]

here stand giants

Beau is the perfect fucking picture of mental health.

Fuck you.

(or, the life and times of beauregard in three and a half conversations)

It doesn’t come to much, in the end: just a man, standing in a broken room.

Beau can’t hear him. She’s knocked out on the ground, hair splayed, skin black and bruises. She’s breathing, but it’s a close thing.

There are people next to her – two kneeling at her side, and another two in the edges, waiting. They’re silent in a way that makes the man’s skin crawl, cobalt blue clothing a stark contrast to the austere brown furnishings. His wife is upstairs. She hadn’t wanted to see this.

“We’ll be taking her, then,” a woman says, brisk and professional.

The man doesn’t say anything as they drag away his daughter’s unconscious body, as they pack her into the prepared cart and start the long, lonely journey away from town. His purse is lighter, but his shoulders certainly aren’t.

“You need to sit down.”

Yasha glances up from where she’s wrapping fresh bandages around her forearm, back held up by the trunk of a large tree. They’re camping in the middle of a forest, with a canopy a good twelve stories above their heads and the sun a distant memory. Light filters down in green-grey streaks, illuminating the hollow gaps between the enormous trees that space out at even intervals. The roots are thick and ropey as they dig into the ground, easily reappropriated into functional – if slightly uncomfortable – seats.

“I’m fine,” she says, not sounding particularly bothered by Beau’s aggressive tone.

“No,” Beau says, shouldering her way over to Yasha. “You’re not – you need to sit down, you’re shaking –”

“I’m not shaking,” Yasha says patiently, knotting the bandage and letting her arm fall to her side.

“Yasha,” Beau says.

Yasha gives her a dubious glance, but after a few minutes she lets herself be manhandled into sitting down on one of the roots, long legs just barely brushing the dirt ground. Beau hops up onto an opposite root, so they’re facing each other.

“Oh, look. How cute,” Nott says, coming over to stare up at both of them. “They match.”

“I’m about to throw something at you,” beau says. “Something very pointy, and very sharp.”

“There’s no need to be rude about it,” Nott says, crossing her arms over her chest. “In any case, I just wanted to come and let you know that we’re heading off in about ten minutes. Caleb doesn’t want to stay here too long.”

In the distance, something howls.

“I don’t want to stay here too long,” Beau says.

Yasha says nothing.

Nott waits around for a few seconds, probably expecting more of a response, before huffing and leaving. Caleb is with Jester and Fjord, both of whom look bruised around the edges but otherwise alive. Beau has to keep reminding herself: they’re alive, they’re alive, they’re alive. That’s going to balance out any sleeplessness concerning Jester’s new habit of waking up in the middle of the night to squeeze Beau’s arm bloodless.

Beau turns her attention back to Yasha.

She had been…very calm, upon hearing about Molly’s. About Molly. She hadn’t done anything, just blinked and stared and nodded, like yes, of course, that was only to be expected. My best friend is dead. It was only a matter of time – look at him.

Dead man walking.

“Lorenzo is dead,” Beau says, and she’s trying so hard to be tactful, but Fjord hasn’t had much of a chance to pick up where their lessons left off.

Yasha’s face remains slack and expressionless. She reaches up to pull at the new bandage. “Yes,” she says, and that’s it.

Beau blows out a frustrated breath, fingers itching to do something, anything. Sitting still and trying to talk out trauma isn’t on her bucket list (she has a bucket list now, apparently). But it’s niggling at her, the way Yasha’s eyes won’t focus, the way the larger woman’s presence seems cut in half.

Molly had said, I left every town a better place than I found it, and Beau wonders how much of that included his best friend. He had certainly left a mark on Beau, and they’d only know each other for the last few weeks.

Eight months, Yasha had said, a world away. That’s how long she’s been out of Xhorhast, into the Empire. How many of those months had included Molly?

More than ten minutes passes, but Nott doesn’t come back to grab them. Jester looks like she’s fallen asleep, head nestled into the crook of Fjord’s shoulder. He doesn’t seem to mind, so much, though Beau is going to have a talk with him, if he intends to kidnap her roommate.

“I’m leaving,” Yasha says, soft as a dreamless sleep.

It’s like something’s cut all of Beau’s strings – her shoulder slump to the ground, and she struggles to keep breathing past the sheer relief that sings in her chest. Now that it’s been said – now that it’s out in the open – there’s a kind of intenseness that bleeds out of the air. The elephant in the room has been killed. Thank god. Beau was tired of cutting out her tongue, anyway.

“I thought so,” Beau says, and she leans back and tries to smile past the knowledge of it. She can’t look into Yasha’s mismatched eyes, so she stares at the spot just above her head. “I’m surprised you stuck around for so long, this time.”

Yasha shrugs, picking at a small scab on her right thumb.

Beau breathes in, and in, and in. “Are you coming back?”

Yasha’s eyes jerk up to meet Beau’s, and the air liquifies around them. Beau’s lungs protest as she’s buried under the weight of – of something, something dark and lonely and clawing. The nothingness echoes in her head, the lack of noise deafening.

They both look away at the same time, and the connection severs. Beau tries to keep her breathing even and not focus on the dead thing between them.

“I hope so,” Yasha says, and she sounds so horribly small.

Beau rolls her shoulders back to stiffness, stretching out her arms and staring at the darkened silhouette of a sky. “Okay, then,” she says. “That’s all I wanted to know.”

Beau comes to the Cobalt Soul with manacles weighing down her wrists.

“If you cooperate, things will go much easier for you,” a woman with sharp teeth and sharper eyes says, tinted blue hair falling in a fringe around her chin. “You have such potential, Beauregard.”

Beau spits at her.

Her skin is raw, and blood occasionally trickles down her arm every time she re-opens a welt with her struggling. One of her kidnappers looks distinctly uncomfortable at the sight of it, and she makes sure to struggle around him the most.

Damaged goods, she thinks deep into the night, looking down at herself and laughing.

Three days out from the decent-sized city, Fjord pulls the metaphorical short straw when it comes to watch.

Beau flashes a grin at him as Jester pouts at having both of her person-shaped-pillows out of reach. Still, she curls up around Nott happily enough when it comes time to get some sleep. Nott puts up some token grumbling, but they’re all bundled in one spot, so Caleb is trapped by the flailing blue arms as much as she is. If anything, Beau would say the little goblin girl looks satisfied.

Fjord settles himself next to Beau, eyes trained on the enveloping darkness. Beau snaps on her goggles for the first hour or so, but has to take them off when her eyes start to ache from the strain.

“So,” Fjord says, accent thicker off his tongue than before. He clears his throat and glances at her, dividing his attention. Not too much, though – Beau’s noticed that he can’t quite keep still, these days. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Me?” Beau says.

Fjord gives her a look of tolerant amusement. “Yes, you. You almost bit Jester when she tried to volunteer with me.”

Beau crosses her arms and pulls a tired smile over her teeth. “Well, maybe I don’t want you two on the same watch.”

Fjord sighs heavily. “Beau.”

“The last time you were alone together, you were kidnapped!”

“We had Yasha with us.”

“Well, let me tell you, you three aren’t ever allowed to take watch together ever again,” Beau says. “There’s only so much bad luck this group can take.”

Fjord doesn’t look terribly amused – though he hasn’t shut her down, which is saying something. A gentle word would get Beau to drop the whole thing, because she has realised over the course of this horribly cursed trip that she is attached to these people. Almost inadvertently, they had managed to burrow under her skin and wrap around her ribs, pulling her in all different directions. Yasha’s string is taunt and uncomfortable, thin enough to snap. Fjord, though – Fjord is made out of wire, enough to enough to slice through bone.

“I think this group has had plenty of bad luck as is,” he finally says. “I don’t expect we’ll get a reprieve just because of who we put on watch.”

“There’s such a thing as tempting fate,” Beau says. “Not that I believe in fate, but if I did, I wouldn’t want to piss it off.”

Fjord swipes a hand through his hair. His tusks are poking out from his lips, just a little bit. They haven’t had much time over the course of the week to be still, and before that Fjord hadn’t been – well, he hadn’t been present enough to bother with his appearance. Beau wants to reassure him, but no matter what she says, it never comes out right. Someday, she’s going to just stop trying, before she sends someone off a cliff.

They settle into silence, letting it draw out towards dawn. Beau thinks about the last watch she had with Molly, and thinks about all the things that she’ll never get to say to him.

“I missed you.”

It comes out in a panicked rush, and the moment she says the words, she wants to take them back. They feel clumsy, open, far too personal for Beau’s state of mind. Fjord side-eyes her, not saying a word.

Beau takes in a shaky breath, trying to focus. She very deliberately doesn’t look at him.

“I’m really – glad” – that was the right word, wasn’t it? – “That we got you, uh, out of there. We were all really worried” – wait, no, was she supposed to keep this group-related or personal? Gods, she should have taken a page out of Keg’s book and written this down – “I mean, I was really worried. We were all worried! Including me. And Caleb and Nott, of course –”

Ah, what a mess!

Fjord is smiling at her, though, soft and sad and real. Beau breaks off and stares at her clenched fists. Why was this so hard? Why did she always have to make things like this so hard?

“I knew you three were going to find us,” Fjord says. “Jester and Yasha knew, too.”

Beau clenches her jaw and doesn’t say anything else.

“You know, I don’t think any of us have said ‘thank you’ yet,” Fjord muses.

“We were a bit busy,” Beau says. And then – and then Yasha had asked after Molly –

“In any case,” Fjord says, ducking low so he can look Beau straight in the eyes. “Thank you for saving us.”

“You must learn discipline,” Xenoth says, eye twitching. “Or you will become nothing.”

“I’m already nothing, asshole,” Beau says, knees cracking the floor, staff sealed to her hand with sweat. She’s breathing heavily, but that’s nothing new. “You’re going to have to find me some better motivation.”

Xenoth looks down at her, frustration warring his face. After a few seconds, he shakes his head and moves onto the next person, correcting their form with his staff. Beau stares after him for a few seconds, fury winding through her veins, and then collapses down to catch her breath.

“She will be coming back,” Jester says, with a child’s faith.

Beau doesn’t know how she can do it. She honestly doesn’t know how Jester can stare at her with bruised eyes and a missing tooth and scars (there are so many scars) along her arms and says, She will be coming back, and mean it. Beau doesn’t have that much faith in anything, let alone Yasha.

Beau just shakes her head. “You take the bed.”

Even with Fjord bunking with Caleb and Nott, the two rooms they’d managed to snag at the head of a particularly nasty-looking snowstorm hadn’t been equipped with separate beds. Because the other half of their group was larger (and because Nott had called dibs, much to Beau’s annoyance), Beau and Jester were stuck with a single, while the others shared a double.

“No, no,” Jester says, though she does sag onto the bed with something akin to relief. She rubs at her ankles as she pulls her legs onto the bed to sit cross-legged, while Beau knocks her back against the wall and slides down to the floor. “We are going to have this conversation, Beau.”

“Please don’t,” Beau says. “I’m tired. You’re tired. I think we can put this off till morning.”

Jester rolls her eyes, pulling her sketchbook out of the bag and flipping it open to a random page. Grabbing a pencil, she begins to draw something in broad strokes, all the while keeping her body aligned towards Beau.

“You are being very silly,” she says. “I am fine. Fjord and I are both fine.”

That’s a lie.

Beau clenches her jaw and says nothing.

“Beau,” Jester says, scrunching up her mouth as she tries to find the right words to say what she means. “You are worrying over nothing.”

Beau presses her lips together tighter.

Jester makes a big show of putting her sketchbook flat on the bed, and then rolls so that she’s splayed out on top of the covers, arm flinging out to smack Beau in the face.

“What the fuck!” Beau says, ducking away.

“I think you want a hug,” Jester says.

Beau’s eyes widen in horror. “What? No!”

“Yes, I think you need a hug,” Jester says, scooching further over to the side of the bed. She’s got both her arms out, now, and her grin is as wide as Mollymauk’s. “You’ve been grouching around for the past week, and I think a hug will make you feel better.”

“Jester, don’t you dare,” Beau says. She starts to get up, but Jester is too fast for her, grabbing onto Beau’s shoulders and pulling her against the side of the bed. Beau flails ineffectually as Jester squeezes her tight, and then it’s too late, she’s trapped.

Grudgingly, with something like relief, Beau surrenders to the hug.

“You’re good.”

Beau’s head jerks up to stare at her instructor, shock electrifying her body still.

“You’re good,” she continues, oblivious to Beau’s surprise. “But you lack the proper form. Keep practicing, though. You could become better if you put your mind to it.”

(Beau wakes up, snow whiting out the windows.

Yasha is leaning against the far wall, skin pale stone, hair covered with frost, eyes closed.

Huffing out a small laugh, Beau rolls her eyes and gets to her feet).

[demigoddessqueens]

DJHAVGJHDGJSHG , I HAVE AN IDEA!! Well two to be honest. Character Idea: You are a disgraced noble. Through some sort of act you committed (or whatever you can decide) you were disowned by your family. You were mocked and humiliated for being a nuisance/unfit to your family's line. JOKES ON THEM THOUGH, because later after your departure your city was taken over by cultists obsessed with releasing their deity to rain destruction. Your entire family's legacy was thrown out. Of course, finding out this news was a heavy blow to you, and started to twist you inside out. With the mix of guilt of not staying and the humiliation you faced for years by distant relatives and close family, it all formed into your ruined ego. You on one hand wanted to get your revenge but on the other hand, you wanted to leave that behind you (intense stare at Percy) At a first glance, you can come off as a bit of an asshole. You very much frame yourself to be a stubborn prick. Though there are moments when your cocky facade wavers and you show your more loving side (I can see this showing more once you've made good friends.) Normally you let that torment bubble up inside of you and make sure to push it down with certain stunts. Your mind morphs how people perceive you, making you wonder whether they truly like you or are just keeping you around out of pity. Of course when realizing your connection to the massacred nobles.

PLOT IDEA (Woop woop!!): Due to your stuffed in feelings, this equals to you being cursed with vicious nightmares. Of your family, your appearance, whatever your mind could conjure up. Any soft spot in you your mind space would try to hit. Though they were never that bad, I mean as in you would never wake up a vulnerable shell of yourself, until one night. The flashes of some dreading imagery you couldn't take, it was haunting. You sprang up from wherever you were sleeping, a cold sweat running down your back. The feelings of somewhat dried tears would stain your face.

Thankfully you are able to hold in your cries for help, and you quickly go to scramble outside to take in some fresh air. What if one of the party members heard you scrambling out of there and got the courage to go ask if you were alright. BRING THE DRAMA IM READY!

(Sorry if this was super long, I just need to spread it so bad. Any group is fine!!)

Your mind, anon! Your mind 😳🤯💕👌

I’m gonna do a brief one liner for all three groups, and how the other would react to all your inner turmoil

Percy de Rolo - “I know how those types of days and nights can be. I’m here if you need to talk”

Laudna - “Dearie, you sound frightful. Is everything all right?”

Cadeuces - “Are you ok? I’m here if you ever want to talk”

Vex’ahlia - “Is it a bad night for you, darling?”

Beauregard - “Hey…are you ok?”

Vax’ildan - “If there’s anything you want to say, you can speak freely. I’m here if you ever need to talk or anything”

Jester - hugs you tightly with sweet words “you can tell me what happened”

Fearne - “is it ok if I sit here….? and you can yell if you want”

Imogen - “I know how that feels and all…with how my head feels. Do you want to sit?”

Orym - “Will and I used to talk about our feelings

Pike and Grog - “Sometimes Grog/Pike and I used to talk about our feelings if it got a lot…do you want to?”

Fjord - “darlin’/love you look as pale as a ghost. You know you can trust me to talk, if you want”

Essek - “I’m…not the best at these kinds of things, but I’m willing to…”

Dorian - “I know it might not be much…but I am a good listener”

Caleb and Nott- “I’ve had a many sleepless nights such as yours, but I’ve learned not all have to face it alone”

Chetney - “you’re not a burden, and you don’t have to feel like one to keep it all in”

Yasha - “I know exactly how that can be, more often I would like”

Scanlan - “you know sometimes I use composing to help me…if you want, we could figure something else out”

Mollymauk - “Bad night for you too, eh? I know how that can be”

Fresh Cut Grass - “Keeping your feelings inside for too long may hurt…and I’m a good listener”

Keyleth - “Are you ok? Can I help? Is there anything I can do?”

[failedskillcheck]

Change with the Tides (Part 5)

A/N: Wow ok. Several months later and here’s the next part, so sorry for the wait, life was… interesting for a bit there. 

The next day or two were long and hard, meeting with a strange woman named Calianna, who thought that you and Fjord were siblings and that Nott was Fjord’s daughter. You spent most of the time around Calianna stressed and not very well rested, careful not to drop your form as you made your way to the safehouse. 

After nearly getting sprayed by a mantrap plant, and as the casters all blast it with spells and cantrips, Fjord finishes it off with a Witch Bolt. 

Beau and Fjord both notice a troll in the trees, 

But, you all managed to defeat a troll and clear out the merrow infesting the safehouse, and here you were, waiting for Caleb to finish identifying some treasure, Calianna having left the day before, soaked to the bone, cold, and thoroughly beaten. While waiting, you play around with your shape water cantrip, making various shapes and creatures appear and shift.

“Fjord!” you hear Caleb shout, and as you whip your head around you see him slumped over, hand brushing against the cat’s eye stone Caleb was working with. You watch in horror as he sits on his knees, eyes glazed over, and pushes the stone into his chest. 

Fjord's eyes clear, and you grab his upper arm, Jester on the other side of him, pulling him away from the pool he was half in.

“What the fuck was that? What just happened?” Nott screeches, other members asking similar questions as you and Jester peel back his undamaged armour. There’s not a scratch on the half-orc.

As Fjord finishes the story, he tells you about an old captain of his, Vandran, who did the same thing with the orb in the vision as he did.

After a brief moment of panic, you all split and prepare to walk back through the swamp, using dynamite to blow up the narrow passage. 

While exiting, you spot Fjord staring at his sword, and you swore that you could see the orb resting on the hilt as you approached him.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m not sure. Vandran was the closest thing I had to a father. When our ship was sabotaged, I thought he had died.” he rubbed the back of his neck. “When I was thrown overboard I was knocked unconscious. When I woke up, I was on a beach, and I had this sword.”

After that, Jester sends a message to the Gentleman, letting him know you finished your first mission.

A brief fight with a venom troll later (Fjord looking a little beat up, given he fell unconscious twice) and you all make your way back to Berleben. Paying for rooms in The Drowned Nest instead of Keystone Pub, you find yourself curled up between the two teiflings, your own form shifting to include a teiflings tail and horns.

That day, the Nein start the journey to Shadycreek run, stopping through a roadside market, getting attacked by some very terrified bandits, and eventually making it to Hupperdook.

As the lights fade, gnomes surround the Nein, rushing into various taverns and lighting fireworks. 

As you watch the chaos unfold, your heart aches as you watch families race through the street or having picnics. 

Suddenly, you felt a hand on your wrist and spin you around. Looking up at bright red eyes and glittering gold jewelry, Molly smiled as he dragged you toward a collection of fireworks guards by Beau. 

“You should relax, have some fun Y/N” Molly whispers in your ear while slipping a necklace of cloth flowers over your head. 

“I’ll have to take you up on the offer Mollymauk” You say, and you’ll admit, you leant into the warmth of the teifling a little. 

A drinking game later, and you were letting your form shift and ripple, to tired (and drunk) to bother putting effort into stopping it. None of the gnomes seemed bothered by it either, children asking you to change into fun colors for them.

Molly reaches for you hand once more, pulling you onto the dance floor where Jester and Caleb already danced together. Your form, now a air genasi, sparkled in the light, your lighter-than-air hair wrapping around Molly’s horns as you spun together.

When you started stumbling over your own feet, the purple teifling scooped you into his arms, taking you up to your room and (kind of awkwardly) laying you one the bed, your form shiting to your normal white as you fall asleep. 

As you drift asleep, you swear you fell a warm hand brushing the hair out of your face and a small kiss on your cheek. 

~Next Morning~

Your heads spinning, and you look over to see a feathered face inches from your own,

“WELCOME TO THE MIGHTY NEIN” 

Groans echo from the others. Followed by a frustrated yell from Beau.

The day went by in a bit of a blur, and by the time the sun set, the Nein had their coin purses, a family was reunited, and Kiri was curled into Jester as they said goodbye. 

You all left the next day, the cart rolling away to Shadycreek Run, stopping for the night in a small clearing…

I apologize for the next part…

[nightowlwriting]

summary: fjord takes care of the mighty nein. you take care of fjord. (part 4/13 of the kindness series, a thematically connected series of c2/exu imagines)

word count: 2.7k

warnings: mentions of self-hatred, bullying, lack of self-confidence

note: idk why this one took me so long and, honestly, it was almost super nsfw lmfao

masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Fjord is a man who appears to know exactly what he needs and when he needs it. You’re not so sure. You tend to hang back when the group talks to people, or finds jobs for coin, just to watch. That’s what you like to do - get information, tuck it away, use it later.

It just happens that sometimes you end up watching Fjord. There’s no reason, not really. He’s the leader by default, no matter how much Nott will say that it’s Caleb. He does most of the talk, smiling all coy and leaning against things to charm the party’s way through whatever Gods forsaken situation you end up in. It mostly works, with some exceptions. There are things you begin to notice in the nights after Fjord has failed to charm someone with a well-placed wink, or a sir or a ma’am. He makes the fire just a little bit larger, stacking logs and kindling and using his flint so that Caleb doesn’t have to use his magic. He cooks heartier food, sometimes even disappearing and coming back with a skewered animal from the forest to add to the pot of simmering soup. He takes the first watch and doesn’t wake anyone until halfway through the second watch so that everyone can sleep longer, even if it makes him crabby the morning after.

You come to a conclusion. Fjord takes care of people when he feels like he’s not enough. He overcompensates in his acts of kindness when something he does fails - but why? To make you all stay? To make sure you know his worth in the group? To make up for whatever he sees as a downfall? Honestly, you’re worried it’s a little bit of all three. You’re not really sure about how the mind works - that would be more for Molly, or Caleb honestly - but growing up in an orphanage with children who pick and prod at your every physical characteristic cannot be good for a person. Especially with Fjord insisting that he doesn’t have a last name, despite the times that he introduces himself and you see it die on his lips before he can say it. There’s something there, but you won’t pry. People deserve their secrets. They deserve to keep something for themselves.

If he wants to keep his last name, that’s fine with you. If he wants to keep the self-loathing inside of him until he explodes, well, that’s not fine with you. That’s why when you realize that he decompresses by making himself useful, as if the group might dismiss him just because a few people were immune to his charms, you decide to do something. No amount of reassurance from anyone will convince him otherwise and the rest of the group tends to shrug away from his slightly overbearing kindness when something goes south. Caleb, Beau, and Molly are just uncomfortable with it while Jester is usually too engrossed in journaling, Tusk Love, or talking to the Traveler. Nott is somewhere between Caleb and Yasha (uncomfortable and straight-up not around to be doted on.) And… Well, that leaves you.

It’s not that you mind Fjord’s constant doting after he perceives something to have gone wrong, but it’s hard to let him in. Your life before the Mighty Nein wasn’t exactly peaches and cream, either, but you know that he needs this. He needs to feel like he’s doing something for someone or he’ll break. You only notice that, though, after a particularly rough, rainy day of trying to get information out of people for a job. Fjord had forgotten something important which threw off the communication and sent everyone you were working with into an angry tizzy. By the time you make it back to the tavern, everyone is soaked to the bone and cranky, even you - and you tried your best to avoid getting out in the rain. What you really want to do is go back to your room and change out of your wet clothes and then go to fucking bed, but you hold back. The group disperses one by one until it’s just you and Fjord left at the bar, and before you can make your leave you see his hands shaking. His hands, which are large and calloused and strong, are shaking like a leaf in the wind. There’s no other outward sign that he’s feeling stressed or upset, and that surprises you. It also worries you. This is not how Fjord acts when something goes wrong. He doesn’t sit at the bar and brood over an ale - he mother-hens his friends until they’re sick to death of hearing his deep, drawling voice.

The combination of these things is probably what makes you pause halfway out of your seat, eyes narrow and trained on him. He makes eye contact for a brief second before looking back down to his drink. You know that approaching and asking him if he’s okay will get you nowhere but you can’t leave him alone at the bar, not when you know he’s stewing on every mistake, every misstep, whether they really happened or he’s just overanalyzing his movements. He’s your… He’s more than a friend to you, despite the fact that he doesn’t know that and you don’t show it outwardly. Fjord means too much to you to be able to let him sit and spiral into a funnel of self-doubt. You know that it will be weird to put your pride to the side and ask for help, but you also know that you don’t really need help.

But asking Fjord for help means that he’ll feel better and you think that’s a very good reason to shelf your pride for a night.

He barely looks up at you when you approach, still dripping all over the tavern’s floors and hesitant to speak. He doesn’t speak, either, just takes another long pull from his ale to bide his time until you leave. (Probably.) You take the leap first and say his name. “Fjord.” He doesn’t look at you. “I know we’ve all had a bad day,”

“You can say that again,” He snorts.

“We have,” You stress, one hand finding the hilt of the dagger on your waist for some sort of comfort. You’re wildly uncomfortable and can feel the urge to run, get away, flee building up in your gut. If you’re not careful, it’ll spill out your mouth and you’ll be forced out of the tavern for the night in humiliation and self-preservation. “It has been one hell of a day today. I do not want to be alone.” Your sentence cuts off briskly and Fjord looks up in surprise. Your face mirrors his - untamed surprise. You had really opened your mouth to ask if he wanted to find a table and listen to your vent but what came out was I do not want to be alone. You blink and think what the fuck? Before Fjord is shaking off his surprise and standing.

“I suppose I can give Molly the room for the night.” He extends an arm towards you but doesn’t look at you. He’s doing a much better job of hiding how strange you’re acting than you are but still, you’re not going to let this opportunity pass. You wrap your own arm around Fjord’s and he begins to lead you toward the stairs. “Anything specific bothering you?”

“Nothing really,” You hum as you respond, hoping that by allowing him past your walls that it will help him, “Today is just a bad day.” Fjord halfheartedly agrees and your nerves shoot through the roof when he leaves you at your door, explaining that he’s going to warn Molly that he won’t be in the room tonight. You nod at him and slip into your own room, leaving the door cracked so that he won’t feel awkward about entering. Your laundry is everywhere and you grit your teeth, doing your best to hold back a scream. God damnit, you’re about to have the man that you have a crush on in your room and today is the day you threw your laundry all over?

It doesn’t even matter that he’s traveled with you in carts where there is no possible way to not overlap on laundry slash unmentionables. You still dash about, shoving your laundry into a pile in the corner and covering it with your weapons and shield just before Fjord raps his knuckles against the door frame, calling your name. You shiver and invite him in, wringing your hands as you stand in front of the unlit fireplace. “Are you okay?” He’s so earnest and it makes you feel… A little bad. You don’t want to say no to having Fjord be with you overnight because his presence is so calming, but it’s also… He’s not in your room because…

Ugh. “Fjord,” You say before you can stop yourself, “Okay, so, you can’t be mad but I noticed when things go wrong you’re really, really hard on yourself and you shouldn’t be. And I also noticed that when you’re hard on yourself you dive into taking care of other people because, I don’t know, maybe it feels like you’re doing something good? I’m not sure, but I really meant to ask if you wanted to talk but then that came out instead but I can’t let you stay in here if you don’t know why I asked.” He stands there, taking in what you’ve said, and then shakes his head. Your room is dark - too dark for you to see whether or not the small smile on his face is actually there or if you’re imagining it. When he chuckles, you’re more apt to believe that Fjord is actually smiling even after the day he’s had. “Um,” You finally cut the silence, “Please say something.”

“You mean to tell me,” He drawls, stepping slowly closer and removing his chest plate. It’s like his mood has gone a full 180 from where it was when he left you outside of your room, “That you looked so awkward and like a li’l kicked puppy because you wanted to help me feel better?” He sets his chest plate on the table, coming into your sight as your vision begins to adjust. You don’t get a good look at what’s happening on his face because you look away very quickly, setting your jaw.

“Well, when you put it that way,” You grumble and cross your arms, “You just like to help people - it makes you feel better.”

Fjord comes to a stop in front of you and sighs, but doesn’t say anything. Your hands begin to shake and honestly, you regret your stupid fucking decision to try and help Fjord out. You wouldn’t be here, standing in front of him and purely humiliated, if you didn’t look at him and notice so much. He finally responds, one of his hands coming up to touch at your bicep and then trails up until he’s cupping your shoulder. “I do like to help people,” He’s speaking more from his chest than his mouth, and you can almost feel the rumble through the grip he has on your shoulder. It’s not tight but it’s there, heavy and comforting. “I didn’t think anyone noticed.”

“I notice a lot,” You supply, tugging your chin away when Fjord tries to use the other hand to make you look at him. It’s only after he says your name in a soft voice that you look. You’re surprised to see that he looks soft… Soft and fond. “Please,” You whisper, uncrossing your arms to grab both of his wrists. You’re not even sure what you’re asking for but the way that you whispered please is the closest to begging that you’ve ever gotten.

“Please?” Fjord says, sounding incredibly confused but soft at the same time. You shake your head, trying again to look away from him. He ducks down, catching your eyes again, “It’s just me, remember? This is why you asked me here, isn’t it? To help you feel better?”

To your horror, you feel yourself mist up. “I invited you here so you could feel better, Fjord. I don’t want you to be so hard on yourself, and the only time I’ve seen you calm down after a bad day is when you’re taking care of one of us. I thought… Even if I don’t really need to be taken care of, that would help you. I just want… I want you to feel better.” He steps closer toward you, caging you into the rough stone of the fireplace but doesn’t speak. You’re almost worried that Fjord is going to cold clock you, but then he does something that you expected even less.

He surges forward and kisses you. Every part of him nearly engulfs you - the hand on your shoulder moves to the back of your neck, anchoring you to him, while he groans deep in the back of his throat. Your hands scramble for some purchase to express your surprise, landing on his hearty shoulders, clenching in the fabric of his shirt. You sigh into Fjord’s groan, and press as close as possible to his body heat. No matter how much you don’t want to admit it, you’ve been craving this: closeness with another person, pressing tight against their body… You’d be lying if you didn’t admit that when you thought of that, of intimacy, that you pictured Fjord. You just didn’t think he pictured you.

Fjord surges forward again, and you feel the soft scrape of tusks against you when he opens his mouth to breathe, keeping his nose pressed tightly to yours. “I didn’t think,” He says, accent thinner than you’ve heard previously, “I never dreamed that you would feel…”

“Oh, I feel,” You tell him, slowly moving your hands until you can intertwine your fingers behind his neck, “I feel so much, Fjord.”

“You never said…” He sneaks another kiss between his words, dropping his hands to squeeze at your waist, “You never even let on that you see me this way.”

“I do a lot of looking and not a lot of showing,” You remind him - it was something he had said to you when you first joined his group. I always catch you lookin’, but you never show. It’s terribly funny because he’d said it while the Mighty Nein were all naked, sudsy, and sharing a bathhouse at Molly’s insistence. The group had a field day with that and still does. The memory is apparently still fresh in Fjord’s head because a blush creeps high over his cheeks and he looks away, flustered. “You’re strong and pretty and beautiful and you take care of us so well. Even when you’ve had a bad day. I look up to you so much, but at the same time I want, perhaps selfishly, to take care of you in ways that you might not take care of the group.” He almost looks surprised at what you’ve said, but then it melts into a look of soft adoration. Fjord kisses you again and then drags his lips lightly over the arch of your cheek before he rests his head on your shoulder where he inhales deeply, his breath tickling your throat. You can feel his hands contracting against your waist, like he wants to touch and feel but is settling for keeping them where they are and feeling the soft give of your flesh. You know your heart is spinning at what feels like a million miles per hour, and you know that he can probably hear it, too. You can’t find anything in you that cares, though, because you’re so close to Fjord. He smells like saltwater, you realize. Not in a way that it seems like he’s been coughing it up again, or in the ocean, but just sort of… Naturally. Like he’s always smelled that way. Like you’ve always known he smelled that way. Like you were always meant to know and to find comfort in it. You pull yourself closer, relishing in the way that you hold each other, and Fjord sighs. You can feel the way that he relaxes underneath your hold and you relax, too.

This… This is the way that it’s supposed to be. This is how you can do for Fjord what he’s done for your team - except different. Except more.

[exmortia]

Shadowgast soulmate ficlet: Found Familiars

Essek/Caleb soulmate AU where a wizard’s familiar manifests from a fragment of their soul, but if they have a soulmate, the familiar comes from their soulmate’s soul instead. Regular D&D familiar mechanics don’t apply here except for pocket dimension poofing and un-poofing. Rated T for someone almost dying.

Like every student at the Soltryce Academy, the time finally comes when Bren learns how to summon a familiar.

It’s a week-long elective course he wasn’t planning on taking yet, preferring to focus his current semester on the fundamentals of magic, but Eadwulf is the first of their friend group to enroll, and he walks into the dorms next week with a raven perched on his shoulder. It becomes a nearly permanent addition to his friend, large and jet-black, with a deceptively strong beak and eyes filled with confidence and intelligence. Eadwulf spends the next few days answering the same standard question from their peers and teachers - “no, it’s mine.”

Astrid borrows Eadwulf’s notes on the spell and summons her own familiar not long after, a razor-eyed falcon that never stops scanning their surroundings and quietly observing anyone within range. Bren is only a little disappointed when she says “it’s mine, I can tell.” He knows, like everyone else, that soulmates are rare.

Soon it’s his turn, and his friends are making good-natured jokes about what form his familiar will take. They’re hoping for another bird just for the irony of it. “Maybe an owl,” Astrid says with a smile. They make bets. Eadwulf puts ten silver on a songbird, and Astrid puts twenty on a bird of prey.

Bren performs the ritual that night in the privacy of his room. As the incense drifts into the air, he secretly hopes for a feline companion, like the one he knew in childhood. Something soft and warm, curled up in his lap and welcoming him back to his room after a long day of classes. He keeps his eyes closed until the spell completes. 

When he looks down, there’s an unexpected shape on his desk, like a scarf dropped lengthwise into a pile. Then it begins to move, glinting with iridescent color in the candlelight as its body slides and shifts on itself, and then he recognizes the creature when a rounded head emerges, tongue flicking out to taste the air in his direction. 

“A snake?” he whispers to himself, confused and disappointed. Where he’d hoped for fur (or even feathers in retrospect), he sees shiny black scales like an inkspill across his desk where the light doesn’t hit. There are no emotions in its tapered face and round, lidless eyes. When the initial shock wears off, he takes a moment to focus and reach for his connection with it, hoping that what he finds is a reflection of himself, just like what his friends have, but what greets him is a feeling so new and foreign that he can’t lie to himself anymore.

Bren dismisses the familiar in a moment of panicked shame. He spends the night agonizing over what he’ll say to his friends and what their reactions will be. “It’s not mine,” he whispers to himself, dreading the moment when he’ll say it to them in person tomorrow. “I don’t know whose it is, but it isn’t mine.”

“You have a soulmate,” Astrid will say with a small, tight smile, the words neutral on the surface, but there’s a guarded expression in her eyes. Bren can only nod in reply, feeling like he’s wronged her somehow, as Eadwulf inspects the coiled snake presented to them in Bren’s outstretched hands.

“I’m sure it will come in handy,” he declares, trying to soothe Bren’s worries the only way he knows how. Astrid agrees, and the tension passes as they walk to their first class of the day. Bren considers dismissing his familiar again, but then he looks longingly at the companions perched on his friends and carefully tucks the serpent into the neck of his shirt beneath his robe. Its cool weight settles across his shoulders, the movement a slow, shifting pressure that feels good in the summer heat and even better when he’s working through a difficult assignment later.

Bren doesn’t find out until a few weeks later that his familiar is dangerous. An altercation with another classmate leads to him being shoved against a wall, the other boy’s grip twisted into the front of his robe with one hand while the other pulls back for a swing at Bren’s face, and suddenly there’s a blur of motion and the boy is stumbling back with a pair of tiny red dots on his chin. He almost dies right there on the floor, lips blue and foaming at the mouth, before one of the professors is drawn to the shouting of gathered students. Bren is instructed, under threat of expulsion, to keep his familiar dismissed while in the presence of others.

Ten years ago and hundreds of miles away, Essek Thelyss stands in his laboratory, blinking incredulously at the small, furry creature that has manifested in front of him. The trouble with being a wizard of a long-lived race who can’t summon a familiar is that you don’t know whether your soulmate has already died or just hasn’t been born yet. Essek didn’t think he needed a familiar, particularly, but he’d gotten into the habit of trying the spell once every few years when he remembered, partly because it stung to be an accomplished wizard who couldn’t summon one, and also because he secretly hoped that his soulmate, the one chosen for him by The Weave itself, had not already departed this world.

He’d lost count of the attempts, but it was somewhere between twenty and twenty-three when the spell finally worked, much to his surprise. His new familiar, with its striped orange fur and long tail curled neatly around its legs, sat on his ritual table and looked back at him with eyes that glinted in the low, ambient light. ‘My soulmate is alive out there,’ Essek thought with a relief he would never admit to, reaching out to stroke the cat’s soft fur as it stretched and began exploring the table, then his workbench, and then anywhere it could possibly get into.

In his youth, Essek had hoped for a more suitable familiar - something that could blend in, yet contribute to his image as a formidable spellcaster, like a snake or a spider, but he’d grown accustomed to not having one. His new feline companion becomes a sort of household pet. It’s not physically affectionate beyond the occasional rub against his legs. Mostly, it prefers to sit elsewhere in the room and watch him work from a distance. When he trances, it patrolls the halls and kills any small, unfortunate animal that dares enter his home. He wonders about the sort of person his soulmate might be, to have their soul reflected in this mindful, intelligent, and often ruthless creature.

One night, a little over ten years after he first summoned his familiar, Essek returns from his work at the Lucid Bastion and begins going about his routine, only to find that his familiar is nowhere to be found. He wonders if something has happened to make it decorporealize, like accidentally toppling a heavy object onto itself (unlikely), or maybe it had gotten outside somehow and didn’t care to return yet (a common recurring event). His familiar had changed over the past few months, becoming even more standoffish and less receptive to physical touch than before, so Essek doesn’t worry about its absence until the following day, when his familiar is still nowhere to be found. Before using his components to repeat the summoning ritual, he decides to make a quick search of his tower, and there, crouched in the furthest corner beneath a display cabinet in an unused room, his familiar stares back at him with wide, unblinking eyes. 

When Essek reaches for his companion, its sudden, piercing, feline scream sends him pitching backwards in shock, until he’s on the floor and his familiar has left behind a series of long scratch marks where it fled. Essek is shaken for the few moments he sits there, confused, and then later, deeply concerned for someone he’s never met before. 

This state of mind becomes normal for Essek over the next eleven years. His familiar is a ghost, hiding and wedging itself under furniture and bursting from its hiding spot in a terrified, screaming bolt of fur and claws when Essek unknowingly gets too close. Sometimes he goes weeks without catching sight of it, but Essek finds himself too sentimental to dismiss his former companion. He fears for the source of his familiar’s soul fragment, whoever this person is, and whatever it was that must have happened to them to cause this.

Hundreds of miles away and a few months later, Bren, now Caleb, accepts a torn-off piece of stolen bread from his new goblin companion, and hundreds of miles away, Essek’s familiar creeps out from beneath the workbench in his lab and slinks out of the room, but not before making brief eye contact with Essek, who stares back in disbelief with a set of alchemical reagents forgotten in his hands. 

A few weeks later, after being roughed up and chased out of town again, Caleb remembers his silent protector from his school days, and Nott watches with fascination as a black snake appears in Caleb’s hands with a snap of his fingers. Nott’s fascination turns to concern as he spends a long moment staring at it, drowning in the memory of those days at the academy before he and his friends caught Trent Ikithon’s eye. Later that evening, Nott asks to hold his familiar, and Caleb worries for a moment, but it allows itself to be handed over, and Nott must constantly adjust her grip as its body moves and slips between her fingers. 

“I think he prefers his master,” she says kindly, and although Caleb hadn’t cared to gender his familiar, the pronoun rings true somehow. Caleb accepts the snake from her and tucks it back into the neck of his coat where its cool, comforting weight helps quiet his intrusive thoughts.

It takes a few more months before Essek can run his fingers through his familiar’s striped fur again. Progress has been slow, but steady, and Essek is relieved not just for his familiar, but for the unnamed soul attached to it. 

Things eventually return to the way they were before, and then continue to change. His familiar becomes his shadow, dutifully following him into every room of his tower. Where before it would perch out of arm’s reach to watch him work, now it walks across the paperwork on his desk and jumps into his lap and demands attention, before it’ll curl up and allow him to keep working. It’s an adjustment compared to what he’s used to, but there’s a weight lifted from his shoulders when he thinks about his soulmate now. At least, most of the time. His familiar refuses to leave his home and still vanishes for hours when he gets visitors, even when they remain on his doorstep and converse with him briefly through the open door.

The day comes when a group of strangers walk into the Lucid Bastion. Even among the chaos that follows, Essek’s attention is drawn, inexplicably, to one of their group - a surprisingly well-spoken human with copper-colored hair and pink, freckled skin, covered in mud and Luxon knows what else. 

Caleb, dressed in nothing but leather straps, had dismissed his snake familiar out of necessity back in Asarius. When the situation in the Bright Queen’s throne room eventually dies down, his attention is drawn to a figure sitting near the dias, imposing in equal measure to the other high-ranking drow around them, but something about this individual catches his attention and keeps it indefinitely. 

Later, when he and the Nein are free to wander Rosohna, Caleb decides not to risk going about with his venomous, spring-coiled companion for now, just in case there’s a misunderstanding with the locals or the guards. 

Essek has his work cut out for him, and these new people don’t stay strangers for long. Despite his frustration at their behavior (often disrespectful and almost always culturally inappropriate), he finds himself responding eagerly to their requests for help when needed. When he sees them, his attention is always drawn first to their wizard, Caleb Widogast, and when he teaches Caleb that first dunamantic spell, it’s a challenge to monitor Caleb’s attention to the correct page of Essek’s spellbook, rather than Caleb himself. Everything about this human man, from the way he murmurs to himself while he works, to how he wrings his hands together during tense conversations, to the purely unexpected talent and raw power in the spells he demonstrates, has captivated Essek over the time he’s spent with these newcomers.

Caleb quietly scolds himself whenever the Shadowhand catches him staring. He’s not accustomed to being around dark elves, and even after the novelty wears off, something about their assigned handler, his new and unexpectedly generous teacher in the dunamantic arts, is drawing his attention and thoughts like an arcane compulsion. Caleb carefully keeps this to himself, not wanting to jeopardize their tenuous position in Roshona or the Shadowhand’s willingness to share his knowledge.

Eventually, as the weeks pass and their relationship with Essek grows out of familiarity and Jester’s brute force method of making friends, the Nein are invited to the Shadowhand’s tower for breakfast and the promise of some collaborative spellwork.

Caleb is regrettably late to the event as he makes a detour to find spell supplies, not wanting to impose on their host any more than necessary. When he arrives, there’s an awkward, semi-private moment where Essek answers the door and greets him. Then he’s led further inside where the others are gathered around a large table, and there’s a weird sort of prickling in the back of his mind as he enters the room. Fjord and Beau are talking and leaning against the table while the others are seated in a small group on the opposite side, except for Jester who is kneeling on the floor and talking to someone or something in a high-pitched voice.

A moment later, Jester makes a sad sound and watches Essek’s familiar slip out from under her hands to go trotting across the floor towards its master, or so she thinks. The cat’s gait breaks into a run, and she gasps as Caleb suddenly falls to his knees, his expression that of a mother who’s been searching all day for their missing child as the cat jumps into his arms. Essek’s familiar must be super friendly with other wizards, she thinks, until she sees the startled look on their host’s face. ‘This is the first time in many years that my familiar has not hidden itself from visitors,’ she remembers him saying as they arrived at the tower, and then he coaxed the cat towards them after she asked if she could pet it, which it accepted with mild, friendly interest. Now Caleb is clutching at its orange striped fur as it rubs against his face over and over again, purring loud enough for everyone to hear, and she’s not sure, but it looks like he might be crying a little.

Caleb carefully stands with the cat cradled in one arm, its outstretched paws making biscuits in the air. He reaches out towards Essek, and there’s a small flash of arcane magic before Caleb’s serpentine familiar appears there, balanced in a tight knot of coils in his upturned hand. Essek stares at it, motionless, until the snake begins to move, its body quickly sliding away from its master and into the space between Essek and Caleb, apparently not caring if it falls before it’s caught. 

Essek reaches out with both hands to meet the snake’s trajectory, and soon the familiar is wrapped around Essek’s forearm, coiled tightly in place like a permanent fixture. Essek lifts his arm and stares into its eyes, carefully running his fingers across the black, iridescent scales with a gentle reverence.

“He’s yours,” Caleb chokes out in joyful tears, knowing but not caring that his friends are watching with a combination of amusement and concerned looks. “I always wondered, but I never dared hope . . .” Caleb clears his throat as Essek stares at him, the drow’s expression hard to read. “He, uh, likes to be up high, around your neck, where he can, um . . . he’s v-venomous by the way. I had to learn that. From experience. But he is a good snake, a very good snake,” Caleb insists as more tears threaten to wet his face. In Caleb’s arms, his new familiar trills and then purrs louder, satisfied, when he bends down to nuzzle his face into its wonderful, beautiful orange fur.

Essek makes a quick decision not to ask about what happened to his feline familiar over that eleven-year period. Maybe later when they’re comfortable and alone. For now, he admires his snake companion, the subtle magical thread of connection between master and familiar already transitioned, painlessly, from old to new. He feels whole and complete, and not just from finding his true familiar. Essek’s affection is quiet and immeasurable as he meets Caleb’s overjoyed grin with his own soft smile.

“Thank you for this,” is all Essek can say without his voice breaking. Later, after Caleb’s friends have staged a friendly interrogation about what happened and what it means for two wizards to exchange familiars (and after he’s taken Caleb’s advice and tucked his new companion into the neck of his robe where it fits perfectly), he’ll take Caleb upstairs, his former familiar dutifully following its new master, and spend a few hours alone with his soulmate. At the end of trading stories about their lives and hardships and hopes for the future, he’ll hold the human’s face in his hands and take the first step towards sealing their bond with a kiss.

[peach-the-owl]

I think I something you might going to like. 84 but with a twist. Reader is a sorcerer and a friend of Vox Machina, the last time they seen them was battle Mind Flayer thus sacrificed themselves to froze the gate to other dimensions and stop Mind Flayer. Only see Vox Machina one final look before froze themselves. Not until Mighty Nein broke the frozen sorcerer. Only hear familiar voices, once they open their eyes they realize it's not Vox Machina, but the group who saved them.

Kinda like Avatar The Last Airbender when Aang frozen in time. Hope this is too much for you.

Some friendships transcend lifetimes… I love The Last Airbender it’s such a good show, and I’ve defiantly watched it over a dozen times, but anyways onto the story

I know I’ve called stories long before but like I thing this one takes the cake so far… here’s hoping it’s a good one

Lost Time

Vox Machina/Mighty Nein & Sorcerer!Reader (Platonic)

84- Who are you?

Spells flew left and right as you and the rest of Vox Machina faced off against a rather troublesome Mind Flayer, your ultimate goal was to destroy the gateway this aberration had opened and stop any beasts from coming through from other dimensions. Having silver dragon blood running through your veins meant you specialized in ice magic, being able to freeze just about anything with enough time and effort put in. With the rest of the team keeping the Mind Flayer distracted while you tried to use your magic to freeze and shatter the gateway, but the problem was this gate was enormous. The Mind Flayer had caught on to what was happening and attacks you causing you to lose concentration on your task, thankfully you’d managed to deal enough damage to shatter the base of the gateway causing it to crumble to the ground, falling on the Mind Flayer effectively killing it. For a moment it looked like you’d won but as the dust settled some you see the portal was still open and extremely unstable, energy crackling every which way the cavern starting to collapse around you.

"We can’t stay here the whole place is coming down on top of us." Percy calls for a retreat.

"It didn’t close, we broke it but it didn’t close!" Grog shouts still in a rage. You look over at all of them then over at the portal, you knew what had to be done so with a shaky breath you start towards the broken gateway.

"(Y/n) what are you doing? We need to leave!" Vax calls for you with a panicked tone.

"If I don’t seal this thing, it could mean more trouble then even we could handle." You continue forward against the groups protests getting close enough in range to start using your magic to freeze the opening before anymore energy can release itself. The room grew drastically colder, frost appearing along the walls as you pushed yourself past your limits.

"We can’t just leave you here!" Pike cries.

"You have to, if you don’t you’ll be buried here as well!" You yell, urging them to go without you.

"But-"

"Just go!" You scream at them, by now you could feel the cold of your magic effecting your own body. With looks of sorrow you watch as they all make their way to the exit, Keyleth looks back and calls your name one more time before being dragged off by the others. "It'll be okay." You whisper to yourself, a single tear sliding down your cheek as the gateway lets loose a pulse of energy and you unleash all your magic at once to conceal it, making your vision go white…

Everything felt cold, shadows were moved around in front of you. Were you dead? You thought you might be but then you start hearing faint voices, albeit muffled hit your ears.

"… see that?" It kinda sounded like Vex but you don’t remember her having such a high pitched, bubbly voice.

"It… dangerous." That sounded like Keyleth except much deeper and gravely.

"Wait, I think… in there." Since when did Grog become so soft spoken and educated?

"Maybe… use fire… see what’s inside." You defiantly don’t remember Scanlan sounding so shrill before.

"… not a… perhaps… could be dead." Now when did Vax get such an odd accent?

"… they're alive. We need…" Percy also sounded much calmer and relaxed then you were used to. What was going on, and why did everyone sound so different? A glowing light shines through bringing a warm feeling with it, there’s a cracking sound followed by shattering as you fall to the ground, you figured Pike must’ve used some sorta healing or restoration spell to free you. After a slight pause you gasp in actual air for the first time in you weren’t sure how long, and look up at the people in front of you. Your vision was still a little blurry trying to adjust to your surroundings and for a brief moment you thought you were staring at your friends, but when you rub your eyes to clear them you see before you a group of complete strangers making you jump back in surprise.

"Who are you?" Your voice comes out chattering both from fear and from the cold that still lingered in your body.

"Could ask you the same question." The woman who looked to be a monk shoots back.

"Well I asked first." You rebuttal attempting to stand, your legs were still shaky causing you to trip only to be caught by the firbolg on one arm and the tiefling on the other.

"Hi! I’m Jester!" The tiefling says cheerfully, holding her hand out for you to shake.

"Uhh… pleasure to meet you." You greet slowly accepting the hand shake, you then look to your other side at the firbolg.

"Hi, I’m Caduceus, how are you?" He introduces himself.

"I’m doing quite alright, thank you." You then look to the others in the group.

"Hi I’m Nott, just Nott." The goblin gives an awkward little wave, you wave back.

"Name's Fjord." There was a minor shift in his voice that made him sound more western, but only for a moment. You just nod your head in acknowledgment.

"My name's Caleb Widogast." The red head says rather stiffly, you could easily tell he was a wizard due to the large spell book stripped to his persons.

"Beauregard." The monk woman simply says.

"It’s very nice to meet you all. My name's (y/n)." You finally introduce yourself, now feeling a little more comfortable around them. "You have my thanks for freeing me of my icy prison."

"How did you end up in there anyways?" Jester asks. You explain to them everything you could clearly recall from your adventure before somehow placing yourself into some kind of frozen stasis.

"You know, now that I’ve had a better look…" You trail off slightly, taking in your surroundings once more. "This looks nothing like the cavern I sealed myself in. Where exactly are we?"

"You're in the Happy Fun Ball!" Jester happily states, you give her a confused look.

"That’s only a nickname." Caleb quickly jumps in, giving you a quick explanation of the object you were inside.

"How strange, maybe the last pulse of energy from the gateway sent me here along with most of the ruins." You look over at the broken and thankfully inactive gate that was in shambles, defiantly no way to activate that thing anymore.

"So if I may ask, why go through the trouble of coming here a second time? I mean, you know how dangerous it was the first." You question.

"Well we're looking for someone, that wasn’t you, and hopefully find a way to stop this cult for something called the Angel of Irons." Fjord gave an explanation this time. You let out a large sigh, this was a lot of new information to take in such a short time.

"That’s interesting." You say absentmindedly, still taking in this new situation you were suddenly in. You shake your head a bit and look to the group. "Well, if you need any help I'll happily oblige, it’s the least I could do for freeing me."

"Why that’s very generous of you, honestly we could probably use all the help we can get." Caduceus gives you a kind smile.

"Of course, just tell me everything I need to know about your situation." With that they all started to explain everything that’s been happening, it being a little hard to follow along sometimes with them talking over each other but you get the picture eventually. "So your friend, Yasha right? She’s under this Obann's control and they also have a creature called the Laughing Hand at their disposal. Now your here looking for the wizard Yussa because he’s been missing in here for 3 weeks and time is really strange here too, did I get all that?" You question.

"That’s the basics of it." Nott says with nod.

"Looks like we got our work cut out for us. Especially with the strange time here." You place a finger under your chin in slight thought, you had a lot of questions running through your head but had to put them aside for now, there were more pressing matters to deal with first. Finally having regained enough strength to stand on your own you set off with this new group of adventurers…

Taking down the Permaheart had been no easy feat but with Beau downing it and yours and Caleb’s combined spells it was finally reduced to frozen ashes and you’d finally located Yussa, amongst other things that happened and were ready to leave this place once and for all. Throughout all this, as helpful as you were you could tell this group still didn’t fully trust you, whispering amongst each other and defiantly not telling you everything. Who were you to blame them though, they were as much of strangers to you as you were to them, even if they did save you, so you figured it best to just keep a slight distance when they talked quietly with each other, and if you were being honest you were exhausted. Having been frozen for who knows how long didn’t cancel out the effect of having used a lot of magic, plus the magic you used to help fight off the creatures and creations that lurked in this sphere. You located the exit and the second you all arrived inside of Yussa's tower you fell to your knees panting.

"Whoa, hey are you alright?" Fjord comes over to you and helps support your weight so you could still stand.

"Sorry, I’m just a little tired is all, I suppose after everything I still haven’t fully recovered from my icy sleep." As if to exaggerate your point you let out a yawn and start leaning your full weight into the half-orc.

"Do you think it would be alright if we left (y/n) here for the time being." Caleb asks Yussa who in turn looks over at your exhausted form.

"I juss need some proper rest, I’ll be out of yer hair and rejoin with them once I dooo." You slur through your words slightly.

"Very well." He says with a soft sigh, then turns to his assistant to get a room prepared for you. When your brought in you immediately collapse on the little makeshift bed and pass out, getting some much needed rest. You awaken feeling much more refreshed and walk your way up the tower to where you hoped to find Yussa, when you enter the room you see the mage as well as the Mighty Nein and a very familiar face who stared back at you with as much of a shocked look as your own.

"Allura?" You ask almost nervously, she looked much older then when you’d last seen her. You see her eyes gloss over a little as she holds back tears.

"(Y/n)?" There’s a slight silence that fills the room before the two of you embrace each other. "I was told you sacrificed yourself to save our everyone, we all thought you were dead!" Allura practically cries, breaking away from the formal appearance she’d put on in front of everyone until now.

"I thought I was as good as dead too, but these folks here saved me, pulled me out of my frozen tomb." You say gesturing towards the Nein.

"Wait wait wait, you two know each other?" Nott looks between the two of you confused.

"Of course we do, we're friends." You simply reply.

"You haven’t changed a bit." Allura says looking you over.

"And you…" You pause slightly. "You’ve certainly gotten wiser." Allura just gives you a look that says "yes, I know I’m old". After your little reunion you refocus your attention on the task at hand, collecting information on this Angel of Irons and learning that it was in fact the Chained Oblivion, Tharizdun. You listen intently to everything being said to get a better understanding of what was going on and the more you learned the more serious and dangerous the situation grew.

"I believe it best I return to Tal'Dorei and inform the council, will you be joining me?" Allura looks over to you for confirmation.

"As much as I’d love to go home, I promised these fine people I’d help them. It’s the least I could do for what they’ve done for me." You give your friend a smile, she returns it with a worried look then sighs and nods.

"Alright, just please be careful and don’t disappear again, I don’t know how I’d handle the knowledge of seeing you alive only to learn you’ve really died this time." She places a firm yet gently grip on your shoulders, you place your hands on top of hers and give them a reassuring squeeze.

"I can’t make any big promises here but I’ll do my best. Until then it may be best if you keep my status a secret to everyone, alright? You’ll even be the first person I visit once this is all over." You look her in the eyes and slowly release your grip, once again she nods as she slowly moves her hands back to her side and teleports out of the tower.

"Aww man, I wanted to know who was on this council she mentioned." Nott looks down disappointed.

"Me too." Jester pouts. "Unless you know!" The two of them give you expectant looks making you take a step away from them.

"I can’t say I’d know for sure, a lot is different now then what I remember." You hold up your hands in defence.

After getting everything sorted out, you left Yussa's tower thinking as long as you stay with this group you should be fine. Then they split up, the girls in one direction and the boys in the other which threw you for a loop but you were able to sort yourself out and enjoy a more casual rest of the day getting to better know some of the others. The following days weren’t as you’d expect however especially when you were shopping around a little shop know as the Invulnerable Vagrant, it was no Gilmore's Glorious Goods but it still nice and you had to admit the shopkeeper, Pumat, was a charming firbolg in his own right. What was really unexpected though was the surprise attack by the Inevitable End, dealing with them was tricky when they could phase through the floor but you managed to drive them off and check in on what was happening with Yasha. Your next stop was a visit with a sorta mafia? You were really starting to question the group's moral compass, sure you have done crazy things in the past too but the Nein seemed to find a way to make things even weirder, you decided to stay out of most of it when they told you the only way to get in was to share your blood. Meeting up the next day you made your way back to Pumat's shop, being both shocked a relieved when he decided to join and help the party on this fast approaching mission…

Never in your life had you thought that the steps to a cathedral of Pelor would feel so menacing and filled with unease and yet here you were. The battle was intense, rifts opening and bringing forth creatures of the abyss, Yasha and the Laughing Hand were proving to be tough opponents and everything seemed to be going downhill. With sights set on the mind-controlled barbarian you weighed your options, you couldnt be reckless with your spells seeing as Beau had fallen unconscious so an AoE spell might end up killing her, you settle for using a Ray of Frost spell seeing as your silver dragon blood made it stronger. It works, distracting Yasha away from Beau and giving Caduceus the opportunity to dispel the control over her and spare Beau from deaths grip. With that taken care of you switch your focus to an oddly familiar situation, going to close the rifts and stopping the creatures coming through, however this time it wasn’t a large gateway at least. You were very focused on your task you didn’t notice Obann escape to the deeper chambers of the cathedral until you heard one of the Nein call to you.

"Obann's escaping we need to move!" Caleb calls, you look back and forth between them and the creatures still coming through a few of the remaining rifts, Pumat was still dealing with the the creatures as well and by the looks of things, despite his word of reassurance, he was already having a difficult time.

"You go on ahead, I’ll stay back here and help fend these creatures off!" You call back.

"Are you-"

"Just go!" You shout at them feeling a strong sense of déjà vu. You shake off the feelings, this wasn’t going to end like last time. The Nein disappear after the devil and with Pumat to aid you the two of you worked to close the few rifts and finish off the remaining cultists and creatures. It had been a long and strenuous battle but you’d done it and you were still alive, you rest yourself against one of the supporting pillars to catch your breath. After a long pause that feels like hours had passed, you feel a feathery touch against your shoulder, looking over at Caduceus who uses a quick Cure Wounds on you, Fjord also makes his way over.

"We want to thank you for everything, we may not have managed as well as we had if not for you." Fjord thanks, handing you a healing potion.

"I suppose that makes us even then." You comment with a cheeky smile happily accepting the potion and putting it to use right away.

"You know, I feel we could really use someone like you on the team, if you’re interested that is." Caduceus offers.

"I appreciate the offer, and though in reality it has been a long time since my last adventure, it still feels like it was only a short time ago to me. I really miss home, and am in dire need for a break, but if you do ever require my assistance in the future I will happily lend my aid to you again. For now I just wish to go home and familiarize myself with the changes that've taken place." You decline the offer as politely as you can, he gives you a nod of understanding. With that you get up, bid them farewell and exit the cathedral, making your way towards an area that’s out of the way before getting to work on a Teleportation Circle, as you're setting it up you think back to your time with this crazy group of adventurers, and while it was short they still made you feel welcome in their own strange ways. In some ways they reminded you of your time with Vox Machina, perhaps that’s why you were able to work with them and come to form a trust with them as quickly as you did, who knew. You finish the last symbol for your spell and the portal opens to the familiar view from inside Allura's tower, it was time to go home so with a deep breath you step through the portal.

Bonus (2 for 1 story):

Reunion

"Are you alright? You're looking quite nervous." Allura asks with slight worry as you walk through the halls of Greyskull Keep.

"I haven’t been home in so long and so much has changed, I just don’t know what to expect or how they’ll react." You admit. She places a hand on your shoulder and gives you a reassuring smile.

"Trust me I don’t think they’ll be expecting this either." You walk up to a set of large double doors.

"And from everything you told me…" You trail off a bit.

"There’s more I missed, but I’m sure they’ll be more then happy to fill you in."

"Okay…" You take a breath and reach for the knob only to pause again. "Why don’t you go in first, and I’ll follow your lead." Allura just gives a soft chuckle and nod before opening the door and heading in. You step back and try to catch your breath wondering why you still felt so nervous. You had to wonder if this was even worth it, a lot had happened and changed since you’d been gone and there was a lingering doubt that your friends might not even care anymore.

"Come in and say hello." You hear Allura's voice muffled through the door. Moment of truth, you steel your nerves and make your way through the door. When you enter you have a look around the room seeing all eyes on you, at first their expressions were blank or shocked so you decide to lighten the mood and give a small smile.

"Hello everyone, it’s been awhile." You say in almost a whisper, already feeling the tears well up in your eyes. The next thing you know your tackled into a hug by a sobbing Keyleth.

"You’re not dead! You’re not dead!" Is all you hear her say through her sobbing. You now return the hug having been able to stabilize yourself and comfort the Archdruid.

"I missed you too Kiki. I’ve missed all of you." You release one arm from her seeing as she wasn't going to let go of you just yet, and feel a slight pressure rest on your shoulder once you do. Craning your neck over you see a raven perched itself on you, you raise your hand and give him a little scratch under his beak as he leans into the touch. You look to the others seeing Vex approach.

"My word darling, you haven’t aged a day since we last saw you. What’s your secret?" She tries to add some minor humour to the situation but you could tell she was holding back some tears, being just as overjoyed as Keyleth.

"Just freeze yourself for a good 20 years or so and it’ll shave off those wrinkles in no time." You lightly chuckle, using your free arm now to offer her a hug. She accepts giving a much shorter side hug to you while the others finally came to their senses and start bombarding you with questions. You do the best you can to answer all of them as well as properly greeting everyone again and exchanging welcoming hugs from them, being lifted off the ground when Grog brought you into an almost bone crushing grip. "As much as I missed you too, I’m still fragile." You wheeze at the goliath.

"Sorry, sorry. It's just been so long." He says, trying and failing to hold back his emotions.

"Right, which reminds me, you must have stories to tell me. I’d love to hear what you’ve all done over the years."

"Oh man, where do we begin? There’s so much to tell." Pike ponders aloud.

"How about we start with what happened after my… departure." You suggest, ready for the day to be filled with stories of their adventures and exploits.

[themagicmistress]

Heere’s an excerpt from the first draft of ‘Flowers, Soft Beneath My Heels.’ Scrapped most of it, but I liked this scene! Soo, here it is

~

Rumblecusp is a nice place. The sky is clear and has been most of the days they’ve been here. The air is still and windless save the light breezes that simply ruffle the tree leaves.

Despite the relative peace of the environment, which on any other day would be idyllic, her view of the town is one of slight chaos, and in a different way than it had been last night. People are angry, stone-faced and yelling at each other, faces darkened with rage. Yelling is fine. She has a feeling they’re just doing it to do something instead of nothing in their situation. Some, however, wander through the village with lost faces, looking pleadingly up at the sky as if for answers. It has none to give them, she knows. The Moonweaver has said her piece.

But Yasha’s not looking for trouble, or any of the previous followers of the not-god. She peers curiously around the village, trying to call back to mind the location Anola had told her to go looking for.

She has to knock on a few doors and then awkwardly backtrack as she’s met with more than one tear-streaked face until Yasha finds an older man with a long wispy beard and weary black eyes.

“No alcohol here,” he says roughly and goes to slam the door. She wedges her toe between it and the frame before he can. His eyebrows fly nearly to his hairline. “Of course,” says the man she really hopes is Kresh, “I could always reconsider.”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Yasha reassures and he leans back from her a bit. “I’m not going to hurt you,” She says more insistently and Kresh nods quickly. She stifles a sigh. “Look, I’m just looking to buy something nice for a friend and Anola said you were the person to go to.”

The pressure on her foot lessens and the door swings open. “Oh,” his face is sheepish, “Something sweet, right?”

“Yes,” Yasha tells him. Her heels ache and her heart’s still hopping a half-beat too fast from the earlier scare. She wants to be safe beneath the protection of the dome, her friends breathing warm beside her.

The candies are twenty-five gold, a bit more than mainland prices, but well worth it.

She sticks her head into the dome and there’s a second of relief as she sees them all sitting next to each other, not having moved an inch. 

“Jester?” Yasha makes sure her voice is quiet with Beau leaning against Caleb’s shoulder, the two of them having dozed off. “Can I talk to you?”

Jester looks up from underneath Fjord’s arm, who doesn’t appear to notice his own slow attempts to pull her closer. “Sure, what do you want?”

She hesitates. “Just about stuff. Stuff that happened today.” The cleric’s face falls and for a second Yasha feels bad but she didn’t want Nott or the others to bug the tiefling about the candies.

“Oh. Coming.”

They don’t go far from the dome, Jester’s steps short and hurried. She’s also reluctant to go far, to stray more than she needs to.

Yasha pulls out the small sack out and hands it to her. “Here. I thought you’d like these and I also thought you’d prefer to not share, so… here I am giving them to you away from the others.”

The moment Jester figures out what the rock-like amber stones are, her face lights up. “Yasha!” she gasps, and her face breaks into a grin, “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Well, I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure lately, and tonight was a lot. So.” She rubs the back of her neck. “You deserve it.” 

Jester pops one into her mouth and groans and her stomach does a split-second drop as she thinks oh-no-I-messed-up before she realizes it’s a happy noise.

“These are so good!” Jester shoves the bag back into her hands, “They’re really sweet and sorta crunchy at the same time. Holy cow, I can’t believe you got these here, Yasha, because when we leave I’m never gonna be able to get them again.” Her words are a little garbled with the candy in her mouth, but then she gives a pointed look to the bag. “What are you waiting for, are you going to eat one already or not?”

“They’re for you,” she refutes.

“Yeah, but I want you to have one, so eat it,” she tells her flatly. Yasha eats the candy. 

It’s a little caramelly and it melts in her mouth, with tiny hints of vanilla, all flavours she only knows because of Jester. It spreads in her teeth, sticky but pleasing, and in the center is a hard middle she discovers is a nut as she grinds it between her molars.

The tiefling’s fingers are deft, plucking candy after candy from the bag. They don’t shake and her friend’s demeanor remains unbothered by the night’s events.

What had her face looked like, fingers clenched around green robes, eyes teary toward liquid moonlight? She can only see what Jester shows her now. Someone delighted, maybe a little too delighted, by a simple gift of confectionery. Yasha only knows how she felt, watching a friend drift into the sky, glittering with chains like early morning dew on spiderwebs. Her pulse drumming in her ears, a war drum, teeth clenched, sword clenched, and useless.

Would that she could fell a god for her friend, but Yasha has never been able to claim herself saviour.

“Wanna ‘nother?” Jester offers, face curious now. She swallows. “How are you, Yasha?”

She blinks, taken aback. “I’m fine. Jester, are you okay? That’s— that was a lot up there.”

The answer is immediate. “I’m—” Jester stops. Frowns. “I’m fine too. You don’t need to worry about me, Yasha. I got what I wanted, didn’t I?”

That’s one way of looking at it. She got what she wanted, so all the other stuff, herself gone forever, separated from her friends, the Traveler, didn’t matter. A rationalization, driven by necessity, like the kind Yasha made in battle. Help Beau before she’s impaled on those spikes below her instead of helping Fjord, it’s fine Caduceus is right there next to him, and don’t waste any effort on that last guy Caleb’s about to torch. A different kind of survival, the kind where you swath your hurts in anything that makes it stop just so that the raw and aching parts of you can shrivel and die inside your chest. Whether that means smiles or bloody fists.

“I don’t think you wanted this,” she says softly. “Things suck. And they’re going to keep being like that.”

Jester’s lips press together very tightly. She doesn’t look at her. Yasha has never thought of any of her friends as delicate, but now, she thinks that’s the problem. They’re strong. All of them. Strong enough to fight false gods and save villages and reverse death. Strong enough to face horrors most would never dream, and then lose. Someday, she fears they’ll go charging in somewhere they shouldn’t, into a chamber of laughing mouths, swallowing her whole. A clouded night and a clear moon leaving them devastated beneath it, one less to their number.

Not tonight. But it was close enough that her mind instinctively shies away from it.

“You ever think that maybe you put too-high expectations on someone without knowing it,” Jester says, breaking the silence. She tugs at the sleeves of her high-priestess outfit, “And then they try to live up to what you want them to be, but they can’t and then it goes wrong and you know that when it does it’s because of you and kind of really your fault? Like you were the one to set them up for failure in the first place?” It all comes out in a rush, her voice wobbling on the edge of tears as she rambles. “D’you ever feel like that, Yasha?”

There’s a tumultuous set to the lines of her mouth, pulled back into a grimace, too stiff for smiling, too desperate for frowning. What do you say to something like that and how can she say it with Jester looking at her like she knows the answer to her question, the plea she’s making. How do I make it right?

She licks her lips, still sticky-sweet.

“You know it wasn’t your fault, right?”

“I know,” she whispers. And then, softly, an admission of guilt, “but I would have left you guys. I would have.” Jester chuckles. “How did this happen? I didn’t mean— I mean, how did I even make him a god?”

Yasha doesn’t know anymore than she does how to make Jester feel better now. To reassure her this wasn’t her fault, at its core, none of it. “I don’t know.”

“No. That’s alright.” No words have ever sounded so small.

She thinks of Zuala. She’s always thinking, at least a little, about Zuala, but right now she thinks of her pulling them up the side of a hill, a little ways away from the tribe, about the way her fingers had fit neatly between Yasha’s own and how the last thing she remembers before leaving Xhorhas is the sound of thunder.

“You ever think,” Yasha repeats slowly, “people choose to leave because of you? Or not you personally, but because of your decisions, the choices you make. And when you think back, you realize if you had done something different, they might not have chosen to leave at all?” Jester listens in rapt silence and then her mouth opens into a horrified little ‘o’ and Yasha forges on. “And then, if they’re going to leave, should I just go first so I don’t have to watch them do it?”

“Yasha, we’re not going to leave you,” Jester says, almost demanding, voice cracking with the remnants of tears swallowed back.

“No, I know. But I’ve always left you guys,” She says, the night cold against the back of her throat. “And today, you almost left us. You weren’t going to come back from that. We would have gone to get you, but would you have tried to come back to us?”

“Of course!”

“Even if it meant leaving behind the Traveler?” Yasha asks, “Even if it meant letting him take his punishment?”

Jester bites her lower lip and Yasha watches as a brief conflict plays out across her body, fists clenching and unclenching. “That’s not a fair question. I can’t answer that.” She says it like an apology.

Yasha takes a breath and accepts it. She expects nothing less from her, the girl who painted flowers in her room, who stakes her whole self on what she would do for her friends.

She can taste iron and bitter wind like dread in her mouth. “That’s okay. Just— just don’t leave in the first place. We would be sad without you. I’m not even sure what we would do. Probably just mope around all day. Get nothing done.” There’s a ring of truth to the words that hit too close to home to be even remotely funny.

Then, there are arms around her, enveloping and warm. “I’m not going anywhere.” The words are muffled against her chest, likely to hide the quiet sound of rasping around more tears.

“Don’t leave,” Yasha says.

“Do you think,” Jester asks, “ having to ask all these questions is worth it because at least now I have more family to keep worrying about?”

There used to be a hollow in her heart, one that now purrs in some kind of satisfaction and she allows it it’s victory. “Yeah. In a weird way, I’m kind of glad to have someone to leave.” The arms grow tighter around her and Yasha squeezes back comfortingly. “I don’t want to, don’t get me wrong, but if I didn’t have anyone to leave,” She hesitates, “I’d just be running away. If I leave, I know someone will miss me. I would exist in my absence.”

“I would miss you. Beau would definitely.” Jester pulls back, the rim of her eyes a little darker than before.

Her lips curve into a smile without her prompting, though she can’t quite bring herself to care. ““I have no plans to go anywhere unless it’s where the rest of you are all headed.”

“Good.”

The cleric is stiller, and though she hadn’t seemed outright distraught in the dome earlier, now she seems steadier. A port in the storm rather than the raging waves themselves, standing firm instead crashing out and into herself over and over.

“Does asking these questions help you usually?”

Jester shows the nearly-empty velvet bag of candy to Yasha who notices she has to almost unclench her fingers from their stiff position around it. “Not nearly as much as the candies.”

“You think,” she echoes in a mimicry of their earlier conversation, “you’re ready to head back?”

“Yeah. Yasha?” Jester asks, tucking away the little bag.

“Thank you.”

“You’re important to me,” Yasha tells her and finds a little more joy in the soft smile that graces Jester’s mouth as she does. “Thank you for staying.”

She keeps her eyes on her friend’s back, her steps not quite the light skip they are usually, but lighter now. A part of her wishes she could take their group and bundle them away from the world, cruel and unfair to the best of them. Another part looks at the sea line, just barely visible over the tips of forest trees, and wonders how long into the night she would have to trek to make it there before the others wake. If Yasha squints, she can see a tiny light somewhere between the waves. A lighthouse on the shore, maybe, or a star touching down where the horizon meets the sea.

Ahead of her, Jester runs her fingers through the little velvet bag Yasha had given her over and over again like she can’t help but remind herself of the gift. A smile still rests on her lips.

[thatcrazychalupa]

Chapter 1

Fjord had many surnames: Stone, Tusktooth, Swiftblade, Sea demon, and a few more colorful unflattering ones. He was born in the Dwendalian Empire, his first memories being a slightly run down but functional orphanage. Life was hard there, but not unduly cruel. However, he was not allowed to stay long as the Empire began a crusade against any they deemed heathenistic enough not to be welcome in their Empire.

Being half orc in blood, and showing that side visibly in his appearance, Fjord was forced to flee the orphanage and the empire when he was ten years of age. He found refuge on the seas, the captain of the ship "Hellwinds" allowing him to join the crew. For the next ten years he had been a sailor. During that time, the crusade in the Empire ended but the prejudice did not. Fjord soon found his allegiance siding with the Xhorasian Dynasty, especially when the prejudice turned to war with his new found home.

Long, bitter, harsh years followed; the war dealt heavy blows on both sides of the conflict with neither looking to become a victory anytime soon. Fjord led a group of warriors in the last two years that had made a name for themselves both in the Dynasty and the Empire. Somehow they picked up the name Mighty Nine from some one with a strange accent, and it had simply stuck. They were a mixed number of people from both sides of the conflict, all banding together with the common goal of ending the bloodshed.

Fjord, the half-orc warlock, had been elected as leader (generally just in public as the group was close enough to call each other family) and was viewed as Xhorasian in origin. He was still dealing with problems regarding his patron, yet the war had proven distraction enough in recent times. Mollymauk and Yasha were also viewed as Xhorasian in origin. Mollymauk was a Tiefling, vibrantly purple and ostentatious in dress, and a Bloodhunter by trade. Yasha was a fallen Aisimar barbarian, her size, milky skin and black hair enough cause for most any of the Empire to dismiss her.

Caduceus and Jester were considered neutral in the conflict, both from regions uninvolved in the fighting. As a Firbolg, Caduceus was better accepted on the Empire side despite his white pallor and bright pink hair. Meanwhile, Jester as a short blue Tiefling was better accepted by the Dynasty. As the clerics of the group, that had made it easier for them to gain trust of the others when they had initially joined.

Nott was a goblin, hated by both sides but her skills as a Rogue made navigating that minefield of danger possible.

Lastly, their one member from the Empire, Beauregard. A human expositor from the Cobalt Soul, the monk had been an invaluable asset during the last few weeks preceding the peace talks. While the Cobalt Soul was part of the empire and supported it, they had their own agenda that, thankfully, involved an end to the bloodshed.

The group now resided in a keep that was situated close to the main pass that connected the Dynasty and the Empire. As a mix of both sides, they were the front line for assuring peace and keeping any thoughts of invasion far from becoming reality.

Apparently, however, King Dwendal thought their numbers skewed too far in favor of the Dynasty. Thus, the group had gathered in what had been a war room but was now called a conference room instead.Fjord laid the message out on the tabletop, tapping it once as he announced the contents without preamble. It was the easiest way to get the rather chaotic group’s attention. "As a sign of their commitment to the peace, the Empire is giving us one of their Archmages."

There was a sharp outcry of 'what' and 'why' and Fjord held up a hand to still any arguments as he continued. "Her majesty did mention this as a possibility." He reminded them, speaking of the Bright Queen. "Most of us are from the Dynasty, it’s not so strange they want another representative of the Empire."

"But an archmage? Fjord, you have to admit, that is a little suspicious." Nott argued.

"Our group isn’t just a figurehead." Caduceus reminded the goblin. "We guard the pass and the villages around it. We show that both sides can fight together, not just against each other. It makes sense someone with battle capabilities would join our number."

"Better someone who can fight than some political liability we have to look after at all times." Fjord agreed, attention turning to Beau as the monk shook her head and leaned forward to speak.

"Unless things have changed dramatically in the last year since I've been away, mages aren’t well respected in the Empire and they don’t have much political power. There are a couple at the top, in charge of the assembly, that do. But the rest..." Beauregard shrugged.

"That could have easily changed. The last few months of fighting involved a lot of mages on their side." Molly reminded them. "Some of them leading the charge."

"Because they were running out of soldiers, same as us." Nott interjected.

"Exactly." Beau took up again, giving a brief nod of agreement. "Otherwise I doubt King Dwendal would have let them lead in the last few battles like they did."

"Okay, we don’t have to worry about this mage being sent for political reasons then." Fjord commented, trying to corral the discussion to stay on topic. "Much as I would love to trust it's for the continued peace and nothing more, there’s still the possibility he's a spy, here as a strategic way for the Empire to get some advantage before restarting the war."

Their group had worked hard to help bring about this ceasefire, Fjord did not want their hard work undone by one bloodthirsty Empire Archmage.

"You always say the best way to get to know someone is in battle, why don’t we do that?" Jester asked, breaking Fjord from his thoughts.

"That might not be the best idea." Caduceus negated. "The peace is too new and fragile. Even practice combat might be taken the wrong way."

"And accidents do happen. I don’t trust them not to make that claim if someone were hurt or killed during the spar." Nott agreed, also concerned with the possibility of war reigniting. Lack of political power or not, the Empire mages were fierce and ruthless in battle, as Nott has witnessed firsthand more than once.

"There’s been rumours of a pack of dire wolves over near the Gandre Forest. Killing sheep, pets, small children. Anything of a size that gets close." Molly offered. "I'm sure we'll get a request soon, that could be our test run?"

Fjord's gaze drifted over to Nott. The best thing about their group was that, while he was technically the leader, they were all close enough that they all viewed each other as equals. Each person had their own strengths and weakness, and they respected each other for that.

The goblin nodded. "I'll verify if it's true and get a location. Or find something else if it is not."

"Thank you." Fjord said, then leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

"Fjord, don't worry." Yasha spoke up, leaning forward with a concerned expression. "If this mage causes any problems, we can just kill him"

Fjord huffed a short laugh. Yasha's brand of humor (and he hoped it was a joke, though many times only Molly was ever truly sure when she was joking) was always unexpected. "Let's try and avoid that, but thanks."

"I'm sure killing is unnecessary." Molly offered, the Tiefling’s fangs showing through his wide grin. "I'm sure Beauregard would be more than willing to straighten this mage out on who gives the orders here."

Surprisingly to both Fjord and Molly, Beau neither agreed nor laughed, just frowned deeper with an irate grunt.

Fjord sat up again, remembering that the Cobalt Soul and the Cerberus Assembly, where the entirety of the Empire mages were trained, were not on good terms. "Beau, you gonna be okay with this?"

Beau met his gaze and nodded slowly. "Yeah. Personally, I haven’t had much interaction with the Assembly. Bunch of stuck up pricks run the place. So long as we aren’t saddled with one of those assholes, I'll manage. If the point is starting the war again, makes sense they'd pick a freaking mage..." she growled.

Fjord wasn’t entirely convinced of her anger. There was a hint of doubt, a held back judgement for whoever the newest member of the group might be. Fjord took that as a good sign that, hopefully, this wouldn't be too much like throwing gunpowder on a blaze.

He took in a breath as he laid out the final tidbit of information. "They'll be here in one week. Master Trent Ikithon is escorting the Archmage here. The letter doesn't give a name but does mention he had seen battle during the fighting."

"It’s this other guy, not Trent, that's staying, right?" Beau asked.

Fjord nodded confirmation and Beauregard leaned back in her chair with a muttered 'good'. The monk didn’t look too interested in sharing if she had any concerns, so Fjord let her be. There were enough preparations to make without antagonizing the monk.

~~~

Caleb Widogast was not what one would call an imposing figure.

His hair was a dirty red, disheveled most of the time even when he made an attempt at making some order out of its chaos. Perhaps the chaos was within his own mind, thus the reason for his continued failure in such regard. His clothing was deceptively ornate, though if one were a purveyor of such it could easily be recognized as subpar material.

The Cerberus Assembly had wanted to display their wealth and power, yet fine linens were not wasted on war dogs such himself. Mages were to be of use, not to decorate the court. It made little sense to robe the mage in lavish clothing when he was simply to be of use in combat. Of course, some had argued that a gift must be properly adorned, and as such a middle ground had been reached.

Whether this truly had been the events that led to his current delivery to the Mighty Nine, Caleb did not know. He was not privy to the discussion and subsequent decision, nor was he informed of the following discussion of logistics. He could only surmise what had occurred given his current circumstance.

Three days he had been traveling with his Master, Trent Ikithon, with still two more days left in the journey.

He did wonder about those he was being delivered to. He did have some inkling of who they were, the Mighty Nine were famous within the empire. Caleb was unsure if their name was meant to be the common nine or the Zemnian word, something he pondered during the journey, given the number of individuals in the group was only currently seven. Even should they feel the need to include his name among their number, it would not add up.

Whether they would view him as worth such, he was unsure.Most of them were from Xhorhas, so Caleb had little idea what to expect of them. He had no frame of reference for how the Dynasty viewed mages, nor where he would fall on the social ladder. His excursions into Xhorhas had been for battle purposes only and he'd had no permission to explore the culture. The Nine had, apparently, accepted the offer of himself, though Caleb knew this was no accurate measure of their intent.

Whatever his standing with them, he did not presume it would be very high, especially given the human monk, expositor Beauregard, that was a part of the group. To say the Cobalt Soul did not like the Cerberus Assembly, nor the mages it produced, was an understatement. While Caleb had only experienced this prejudice through cold looks and avoidance, he often heard of less subtle actions from Master Ikithon. He had begun to have doubts as to the validity of all of the information Trent imparted to him, yet had no other frame of reference to the truth.

From the information that had come his way regarding Beauregard, the woman was a formidable force. Opinionated and headstrong some had described her. Caleb had little doubt her views would not be hidden, and had likely been spread to the others. He hoped that would not be the case. It was... difficult living and obeying Master Ikithon who's actions and instructions were (so the man oft claimed) for Caleb's own good. He did not look forward to trying to please those who held his very existence against him.

Conjecture did little good and often led his mind down a dark path he would rather not follow. He was to follow the orders of his 'new masters' as Master Ikithon had so in-delicately put it. Trent had not been pleased to have his prized pupil taken from him, though he had been quick to devise a way to turn the situation to his advantage. Above obeying the group, Caleb had a separate set of instructions from his Master. Trent was not a man to lay out all his plans, so currently Caleb knew only that he was to gain the trust of these people, prove his loyalty however possible, and wait.

Easy enough, as he would have done so in any case. Obedience and loyalty were key to survival. Should the group be displeased with him, he would be returned to the Empire, to Trent, and his failure would not go unpunished. The thought made his heartbeat quicken in his chest, Caleb sneaking a quick glance at his master, paranoid that Trent would somehow see the weakness inside of him.

The other man, however, remained seating with his gaze cast outside of the carriage. His gaze was sharp, calculating, and Caleb knew he was not idle during this long trip to the keep. Whatever his Master planned; Caleb was sure to learn his part in it in due time.

Caleb turned his gaze out the small window as well, letting his eyes roam over the open terrain as they moved steadily closer to where he would be staying for the indefinite future.

[critical-ramblings]

Things that Mean More on a second watch-through of C2

Episodes 5-7

 1. Jester gives Nott a boquet of wildflowers after their first day on the road: "what did I do to deserve this?" "I don't know, you were my friend." I Die. (also a great echo of what Nott said to Fjord after he got his new sword--'what did you do to deserve this?')

2. First casting of Message! Caleb hand-flapping and saying "I'm so proud" in complete monotone is Big Mood.

3. "Ha ha ha, got you." "You think this is a fucking joke?" "No I thought we were all going to die." This is why I love Caleb you guys

4. Vore dream vore dream vore dream.

5. Okay not the vore dream. but like. Travis you made a warlock with no idea who that patron was? FJORD didn't even know he'd made a pact??? Everyone was being so cagey at the beginning, and Fjord is pretending to be fine SO HARD that I really didn't believe him when he admitted later the didn't know. Fjord's only reactions here are: "what are you," and in response to the promise of REWARD, "I'm listening."

6. his accent DOES drop when he talks to everyone the next morning

7. first appearance of the lollipop!

8. I still don't understand blood hunters, never having looked at the class in my life. but I love all the hints that Molly is On A Mission. oth with the nergelid and the zombie gnolls, he felt something click, some instinct that told him these were made for him to kill. Hells, he knew things about the nergelid that Matt said, "you don't know HOW you know."

9. The first 'neins!' started when Nott, Caleb, and Jester all got 9 on their initiative.

10. The gnolls first attacked when the Alfield guards were at half strength, having sent men to deal with a small pack sighting to the south. bryce remarks that this can't be a coincidence.

11. Nott jumps and runs after gnoll pack-lord COMPLETELY BY HERSELF, and Molly and Beau have to race to catch up. Nott FALLS UNCONCIOUS BECAUSE OF THIS. SO DOES MOLLY! Nott's recklessness here isn't even because she's drunk, though she later says she was only planning on following the gnolls without engaging them.

12. BULLSHIT MOLLY meter, spinning another story about how his family were sacrifices to some unknown Eastern god. Like. Holy shit I remember watching that and thinking it was bullshit.

13. Nott asking if she knows the halfling who owns the Candleglow Inn...telling him in halfling that she had also suffered a horrible attack...

14. Every damn time Molly remembers something that he couldn't possibly know: Ynagrul is a demon of the Abyss!! Creator of gnolls!

15. That time Fjord gave Caleb incense that was basically useless and they did Male Bonding by Caleb punching his shoulder and both of them wincing afterwards.

16. There was a very brief time in which Nott collected medicine packs. :D

17. Shakäste! Nott is instantly taken, although she later remarks that she's 'not interested in a relationship right now' when he tries to encourage her.

18. 'why are all these big men making weird speeches at me' or: the beginning of Nott/Fjord

19. Another expression of Caleb's character growth is his change in spell use: support spells like Haste, Enlarge, and Slow became part of his repertoire much later, after Zadash, but here in the gnoll mine things like Blur and Staying In the Back are much more prominent. 

20. I only listened to the podcast my first go through, so I missed all the truly excellent facial expressions and miming the cast did for their characters. Sam especially seems to embody Nott's hunched, fearful darting about and her...unusual facial expressions.

21. Jester's yeti costume idea could have been copied from the creepy humanoid gnoll priest she met outside Alfield--they were also wearing disembodied bits of skin and a gnoll head.

22. Yiiiiiiiiikes, they took a short rest in the gnoll caves and more people got fed to the manticore.

23. Nott asks for a ball bearing, Beau hands one over before asking if she just wanted it because it was shiny.

24. They got all sorts of handy loot in the manticore fight, including the blasting glove and Beau's iconic goggles!

25. Molly had a plus three wisdom? hmmm, he seems to have applied it...sparingly

26. What I forgot about Nott stabbing the baby was that Fjord was paralyzed at the time and about to take three attacks from the flying manticore--AFTER it had already crit on him once! Even now, she was more worried about her friends than she let on.

27. Caleb's first fire kill! I had seen some posts around Tumblr before watching critical role (for example, I always knew about Molly) so I knew Caleb was a firebug, and that he was the Angsty One (TM). but I remember being just as curious as the rest of the cast about that wisdom saving throw, Matt's mention of memories.

28. Caleb, coming out of his episode, first thing he does is HOLD HANDS WITH NOTT. I love them.

[itsomgitsgreenblogging]

Pour Over Me: A Critical Role Fanfic

All of the props for this idea goes to the Essek Fanclub Server, where it was discussed that drow TANGO. Which, obviously, of course, leads to me writing a fic where Essek prepares the Mighty Nein for a formal ball. With all of the political intrigue and yearning that comes with that. I know about nothing about the tango, so, just bear with me lol.  

Also Essek isn’t a traitor. I know that because I love him. 

Enjoy!

Read on AO3 

Preview:

"If you wouldn't mind?" Essek asked, offering his hand. Caleb took it after a single moment's hesitation. Without his levitation spell, Caleb was a few inches taller than him. Essek had to look up to meet his gaze, and the way it felt to see his blue eyes glinting at this angle from the lantern-light pulled at something low and deep inside of him. "I'll lead this time, and then next time I'll follow."

“Skysybil,” the Bright Queen called. Essek watched the ancient goblin hobble forward, her large knotted cane tapping in front of her. As always, she appeared tiny in the massive space of the Queen’s Cathedral. She was made somehow smaller by the pulsing light of the beacon. But part of that was most likely by the Bright Queen’s prudent design. If she were not larger than life, what would she be? 

“Yes, my Queen?” 

“Tell me, how do the preparations for the Day of Radiance fair?” the Bright Queen asked thoughtfully. 

"The Clerics of the Luxon have prepared for the Mass and have readied the necessary components to temporarily take down the night, and release the light," Skysybil reported. "The Guilds have, as always, been preparing for the Parade of Lanterns. In terms of the Illumination Ball, the staff of the palace continue their work on schedule. The ballroom itself is almost complete." 

"Good. Essek?" 

"Yes, my Queen?" Essek asked stepping forward from his place and bowing his head in deference to her. 

"Have the Mighty Nein invited to the Illumination Ball. I will place them on the list and have formal invitations drawn up, though I will entrust you to deliver them." 

"Of course, your majesty," Essek said with a nod. "Should they be in need of any formal wear, shall I leave it to them, or should I place it in Royal or Theylss accounts?" 

"Oh, please do supervise those choices and I'll have my finance advisor speak with you on it and give you a budget. I shall not have heroes of the Dynasty appearing in my ballroom in leather halters...again."

There was a rumble of chuckles, and Essek was about to step back into his shadows when another voice rose up from the crowd of courtiers and nobility. 

"We will be inviting the Mighty Nein to the Illumination Ball?" 

One of the other courtiers, an old stuffy fellow from Den Dwendalios asked the question. Escar was his name. A slippery individual, one of the types that Essek felt was best compared to a snake slipping through the cracks of a garden gate. He didn’t know why he was even one of the Bright Queen’s courtiers, though, Essek was sure the other courtiers would have something to say if he was uninvited to meetings. The other nobility liked him for the same reason they liked war, he kept them rich and comfortable. 

"They were instrumental to the returning of our beacon, so we could have a more glorious Day of Radiance," the Bright Queen said, eyeing Escar with a certain displeasure that even Essek felt. The courtier bowed even deeper if it were possible. 

"I meant no disrespect, your majesty. Only that they will not know our customs or our dances. Surely they would feel more comfortable at the festivities with the rest of the city," Escar said, steepling his fingers sounding oh so understanding and so very accommodating. What a joke, Essek thought.  

"They may of course decline the invitation," the Bright Queen said, though of course everyone knew you did not decline an invitation from their queen. "But I believe that it is important to invite them." 

"As my Queen commands, I shall see them fully prepared for the Ball," Essek promised, cutting in to conversation boldly. He leveled a smile at Escar that flashed his teeth. Escar's shoulders tensed, and he refused to look towards Essek. The Bright Queen’s lips quirked up in a small smile. 

"I shall leave the issue in your capable hands," the Bright Queen said, acknowledging Essek once more. 

"Thank you, your majesty," Essek said, and then returned to his spot at her side. 

The rest of the meeting unfolded in a similar fashion as usual. Essek already had been briefed on most of the information but it was always good for a refresher. Movements of the Echo Knights and war efforts lost in the jumble of excited preparation for the Illumination Ball. If people weren't itching to fight a war, they were itching to party. He supposed the urge to galavant about in pretty evening attire and show off was universal, even he wasn't immune to it. He had ordered his own clothing and knew shoes two months ago. 

How the Mighty Nein would respond to it? Essek had no idea. Interacting with them was often like interacting with a barrel of black powder with a candle in your hand and an oil lamp spilled on the floor. You never knew what would be the thing to set them off. 

The thought was on his mind as he was caught by a troop of marauding courtiers after the meeting. Escar was leading the bunch, a characteristic scowl upon his face. They all stopped as he did, like a flock of perturbed birds awaiting the nearest excuse to take off into flight.  

"Lord Shadowhand," Escar said, voice dripping with saccharin concern. "We cannot be seriously considering allowing a band of mercenaries to join us on such a momentous occasion?" 

"Our Queen is the one who has decided. I know that you are not questioning her judgement," Essek asked, eyebrow raised, looking down at him from where he floated. 

"Many of us are concerned that...personal attachments are getting in the way of clear-headed decision making," Escar said with his conniving sneer, motioning to the six or so nobles behind him.. "You are powerful and talented, but also young Shadowhand. It would be best for you not to take on more than you can handle." 

"Thank you kindly for your consideration," Essek said with his best smile. "But I shall endeavor to do all my Queen commands me, for if she believed I am up to the challenge then certainly I am. That is why she chose me over your daughter, after all." 

Escar's face when a delightful shade of maroon, his ears perked up at the challenge like an angry moorbounder sensing a challenge. 

"You…!" 

"Essek," Essek heard his Denmother call to him. The nobility froze. Escar’s face drained of the extraordinary color of his anger as he saw Lady Theylss in all of her glory. All of them bowed to her, and she smiled pleasantly. Essek, seeing an out when it was offered, smiled back at her. 

"Forgive me, gentleman, I will have to take my leave," Essek said, bowing his head and then floating off to meet his Denmother. He offered his arm to her, and she took it. Even floating, she was still a whisper taller than he was.

"I believe I am owed some gratitude," his Denmother said, giving the group of courtiers a lovely smile before they began to walk the round about the courtyard. 

"Thank you, Mother," Essek said. "You did truly save me back there." 

"Hardly worth your time," his Denmother stated flippantly, watching servants who immediately paused in their work to bow or curtsy before her. Essek resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

"Of that I'm not so sure," Essek sighed unable to help the tiredness that crept into his voice. He realized his mistake a moment too late. 

"You are sure," his Denmother said, voice cold, her fingers like cold iron upon his arm. "You have no room to be anything else. You are a Theylss, and a Theylss never bows to anyone. It would do you well to remember that simple lesson." 

"Yes, of course," Essek said automatically, looking forward with his chin high. Because she was right of course. He was Essek Theylss and whoever Essek was had to be perfect. There was no room for error. He would accomplish everything because of course he was good enough to. He had to. He had no other choice. 

"And you will of course show those no good upstarts what you are capable of," she stated, patting his arm in the charade of warmth, breaking into his thoughts as if she had placed them there. "If you need assistance I can always request your sister to come and help you."

Her tone was so sweet and cloying he was almost surprised her teeth didn't rot from her head. If you can't do it, we'll find someone who can, was the words carried beneath her sigh. If you aren't capable of doing this, you are worthless to me, is what she didn't say but Essek heard echoing in his ears. It had scared him, when he was young. But now, it was simply an inevitability. 

"As always, I appreciate your thoughtfulness. But I believe it will be wholly unnecessary, I am capable of such a small task." 

"Very well," she said simply, putting the issue to rest. 

Essek, unfortunately, wasn't so sure. 

----

Arriving at the Xhorhaus was an exercise in caution most days. Essek simply never knew what to expect when he arrived at their front doorstep.  However, he wasn't expecting to nearly get run over by Fjord and Jester tumbling out of the door and spilling onto the cobblestone road. Essek stepped out of the way just in time, and flashed an apologetic look to the neighbors. As soon as they saw the chaos, the family quickly disappeared inside their home. 

"Essek!" Jester gasped, sounding oh so delighted to see him. She waved her arms flailing about a green slime like substance. "We made sliiiiiime!" 

"And Nott got it all over me!" Fjord grumbled indignantly, picking at his shirt unhappily. "This is almost as bad as the centipolt!"

"What is a centipolt?" Essek asked curiously. 

"A thing that shoot centipedes real far," Jester said in her sing-songy tone, miming the action like a slingshot. "A kobold we knew invented it!" 

"Did we really know him if he died thirty minutes later?" Fjord asked pensively.  

"We met him in his prime!" 

"Sure," Fjord said, not sounding convinced. He shook that off quickly. "Anyways, what are you doing here Essek? I'm assuming you aren't here for slime?" 

"That I am not," Essek said, waving his hands in the somatic gesture of prestidigitation. With both Fjord and Jester now unslimed, he folded his hands before him. "I am here to discuss something of equal importance however. If you are all here, I would like a bit of your time." 

"Of course!" Jester trilled, before she opened the door. Essek followed them both inside. 

The house itself was a bit of a chaotic mess. But more in the way of how a place felt after coming back from a trip. Things were stacked haphazardly, hanging from any corner, half opened satchels were on the floor as well as a few splotches of the aforementioned slime. This was of course punctuated by the chiming of the bells by the door in a loud clanging noise. But it seemed more lived in every time he came to the home, and that filled him with a strange emotion that he couldn’t name. 

"Essek is here!" Fjord called. 

"Hello!" Caduceus said in his usual deep congenial voice. He was sitting next to Yasha with a mug in hand, who was flipping through a book. Though she didn't smile, her expression softened. Neither of them were slimed as it were, but looked oddly at ease despite the chaos around. 

"Essek is here?" Beau asked, popping her head in from a different room. Currently she was toweling her hair, probably recovering from the slime incident. “Hey Essek. Caleb, Nott, get your asses up here!” 

Nott and Caleb appeared next. Nott seemed generally unhappy as she batted her wet hair away with clawed fingers. Caleb on the other hand looked refreshed, a warm. His skin having taken on an attractive pink hue from the heat of their bath, his hair a darker shade. Essek forced himself to tear his gaze away from the curve of his neck, the way a stray droplet of water traced its way to his collarbone. He certainly did not think of how his skin would smell, or how wonderful it would be to brush his fingers through his hair.  

“Good day,” Essek said with a nod of his head. In the pocket of his sleeve he produced the invitations and held them out to Jester, who was closest to him. With a certain level of flare and a twirl she distributed them to the Nein before cooing over her own. “I will not take too much of your time. I am here today to officially invite you all to the Illumination Ball, which will take place during the Day of Radiance two weeks and three days from now.” 

“A ball?” Jester asked, delighted. She grabbed Caleb by the hands and began to spin with him before skipping one or two steps. “With dancing and socializing and pretty dresses!”

“Yes, that’s usually what a ball means,” Caleb said, with an endeared smile as he shook his head as if to relieve his dizziness. The motion was endearing, just as how almost everything he did was endearing. Or unfairly attractive. But it didn’t affect Essek obviously. 

“That sounds so nice,” Caduceus hummed. 

“Is there fighting at these kinds of events?” Yasha asked, and though Essek might have thought she was being sarcastic, her quiet inquisitive tone showed otherwise. 

“No, but there’ll probably be fucking,” Nott pointed out. 

“What the fuck?” Fjord asked, looking flustered. 

“People dress up nicely to show off and get laid, duh!” 

“All that aside why the fuck would they invite us to a fancy ball?” Beauregard asked, squinting at the invitation like it may bite her. 

“As heroes of the Dynasty, and who returned the beacon that we celebrate on this day, the Bright Queen has personally requested your presence,” Essek explained, clasping his hands behind him. “I have also been tasked with ensuring your preparation for this event, in terms of clothing and etiquette.”  

“Wait, first, what’s the Day of Radiance?” Caduceus asked curiously. 

“I believe I mentioned before that on occasion, the sun is allowed to shine in Rosohna? The Day of Radiance is a religious festival that marks one such occasion,” Essek explained. “It is an extremely festive time for us, there is a parade and general frivolity in the streets during the daylight. The Cathedral of the Bright Queen hosts the Illumination Ball after sunset.” 

“That sounds wonderful,” Caduceus said. 

“What etiquette would we have to acquire for this event?” Caleb asked worriedly. 

“Everyone who attends the Illumination Ball is expected to participate in the Opening Dance,” Essek said. “Though I am unsure of if any among you have had formal dance training?” 

“I have! My Mama had tutors teach me,” Jester said, raising her hand excitedly. 

“I have also had some dance training...though it was a long time ago,” Caleb admitted, and Essek filed that piece of information away for later. It would benefit spies to be able to assimilate into events with nobility. He would have to have a shadow of his look up more information on this. 

“Caleb and I danced a waltz once!” Jester said excitedly. “He was really drunk, but he was good at it!” 

“I am unfamiliar with that kind of dance,” Essek said, his intellectual curiosity getting the better of him. “Is it from the Empire?” 

“Yes,” Caleb answered. “It’s an old Zemnian form of dance.” 

“Well, do keep in mind that it may be different then our dancing. You all will only have to learn the steps of the opening dance, after all. Besides that, a rush order has already been placed with the palace tailor. You will all have to go and get measured.” 

“That’s awfully generous of you,” Fjord noted. 

“Her Majesty simply wishes for you to join in the celebration, She shall take care of everything else,” Essek said with his usual placid smile. 

“Wait...are you going to be teaching us the opening dance?” Caduceus asked. 

“That was what Her Majesty intended.” 

“This will be so fun!” Jester said, nearly hopping with excitement. 

Or a disaster, Essek thought but didn’t say. 

----

The day after the invitations were delivered were full of activity. The Mighty Nein went to the court tailor and by that he meant they tortured the court tailor in the way that only the Mighty Nein knew how. By the end of the appointment when he went to collect them, his room had been rearranged, some important spools of thread stolen, and the tailor had been in tears. He had told Essek, with tears in his eyes, how he brave he was to deal with them. Essek hadn’t asked what had happened. Though at some point he would be certain to. Not that he was really sure he wanted to know the answer to his questions. 

The Mighty Nein had all appeared in the Cathedral of the Bright Queen at the appointed time. The servants had taken a break for this hour, giving them enough space in the ballroom to practice with so many people. Essek was thankful to the Luxon for the privacy...since he had know idea what he would be working with. And considering the sometimes utterly chaotic actions the Mighty Nein took, it was probably better that he took on the risk alone. 

“In the tango there are two distinct parts, the leader and the follower. It is extremely important that though the follower may feel the urge to step into the lead, that they allow the leader to fulfill their role,” Essek explained, unhooking his mantle from his shoulders. He was startled when Nott screamed as he settled it off on a chair. "What?"

"You took off your clothes!" Nott screeched. 

"I'm still wearing clothes," Essek said deadpanned, motioning to his high-neck slate-grey tunic and black pants. In fact he had taken care to choose clothing that would preserve his sense of modesty. Essek didn’t like showing skin for a variety of reasons. There was nothing wrong with showing skin, of course. If anything he knew he was handsome and desirable and he could use his good looks to his advantage, and he had done so in his youth. But Essek also knew better than most that the roles one played were often helped by one’s appearance. If he appeared untouchable, then he was untouchable. It was as easy as that. 

"I thought the mantle was like a part of your skin, or that you had really big shoulders," Nott admitted before suddenly pivoting to look at him again. "But wait! Aren't you shorter than usual?" 

"Using my levitation magic would defeat the purpose of this exercise," Essek explained, pulling his gloves more firmly on. "Now? If you don't mind?"

Nott continued to look at him suspiciously as he took his spot in the center of the room. He resisted the urge to sigh or chafe under the sensation of everyone staring at him, but especially Caleb. He could nearly feel his eyes digging into the back of his neck, causing his skin to tingle in a somewhat unpleasant manner. He was so self aware at that moment that he wished he could disappear into the shadows, back under his mantle, anywhere but out in the open feeling so exposed. But there were things more important than his dignity, the Bright Queen's orders being one of them. 

"I will teach you all the leading and following steps to the dance. In total there are eight steps…" 

Essek took them all through the steps multiple times. To his surprise, Beau and Nott both caught on to the rhythm quickly, as did Caleb who obviously did have some dancing training under his belt. Jester, though she got the steps, seemed determined to add extra spins any place she could. Fjord was as stiff as a board, despite Beau attempting to help him. Caduceus would get the steps and then trip over his long legs, where as Yasha seemingly had no sense of rhythm but was happy to follow along with Jester in extra spins. 

"Very good," Essek said, noting this was probably the best they would do for today and endeavoring to keep going. "I believe it's time to partner up. I will demonstrate first, if someone is--"

Suddenly Beau gave Caleb's back a hard whack and forced him forward. Caleb began to cough, and looked back at Beau with an inscrutable expression. After a moment he raised his hand sheepishly. The rest of the Mighty Nein shared a look Essek didn't understand. 

"If you wouldn't mind?" Essek asked, offering his hand. Caleb took it after a single moment's hesitation. Without his levitation spell, Caleb was a few inches taller than him. Essek had to look up to meet his gaze, and the way it felt to see his blue eyes glinting at this angle from the lantern-light pulled at something low and deep inside of him. "I'll lead this time, and then next time I'll follow." 

"Ja--yes," Caleb stuttered, his fingers curled upon his hand. Even through his glove, Essek could feel the warmth branding him, making him light headed. But he wasn't affected, he told himself firmly. Obviously. This was just a dance, a formality, nothing more or less. 

"Very well," Essek said, schooling his tone into something polite and calm and acceptable. "First, place your other hand on the back of my shoulder. My hand is going to go on the small of your back."

Caleb nodded a tiny jerky nod. And then Essek placed his hand upon the small of Caleb's back, leaning him back,  pressing them chest to chest, Essek’s face finding the hollow of his neck and a breath’s space from his cheek. Immediately Caleb's face went a delicious shade of red, and Essek watched it crawl from his cheeks to the tips of his ears and down his neck. He wondered if all humans had such a delightful and attractive affliction. 

"You're close," Caleb gasped, sounding like he was choking on his own tongue. 

"Of course, this is the proper position," Essek explained, grateful for all of his years of court training, his Denmother's critical glares, and the Bright Queen's company because he didn't tremble. He didn't stutter or tremble. All of this was in spite of the fact that the only thing he desired was to feel Caleb's body poured over him like this for the rest of eternity. He was so warm that he could feel it beneath all of his layers, in fact, they may as well have been chest to chest...skin to skin. And that line of thought was just enough to make Essek dizzy, to wish he could lean forward and kiss--

"Is this meant to be a sexy dance?" Jester asked, sounding delighted. It broke Essek out of his strange revelry. 

"If by sexy you mean passionate and elegant, then yes," Essek said. Essek caught Caleb's gaze, felt his composure falter for a moment because had he always looked so lovely in the light? With the way loose strands of hair framed his face? It truly wasn’t fair. But no...no. He was in control. "Let us begin then." 

Essek took them through the first round of steps, but where Caleb before had been precise and had been doing well with the rhythm and the sway of the slow-slow-quick-quick-slow. However, now it was as if Essek was dancing with a creature made of iron. In fact, he could almost feel Caleb creaking in his arms with the tension. Was it so uncomfortable to dance with him? Essek thought. Or...perhaps? But no, he couldn’t think such traitorous thoughts. Not when Caleb was in his arms. 

He had the others pair up after first demonstrating the lead. Nott and Jester did a rather impressively exuberant performance, ending with a flourish of Jester nearly jettisoning Nott up and catching her as they both laughed maniacally. Fjord and Beau both snickered as the danced, before Fjord haphazardly flung Beau into Yasha’s arms. Immediately both women flushed, and began doing the most innocent and haltingly sweet tango Essek had ever witnessed. Fjord and Caduceus finished the pairings, Fjord doing his best to help correct Caduceus’ steps, while Caduceus smiled warmly at Fjord.

Essek however, after a short break, took up dancing with Caleb yet again. This time though, with the others in the Mighty Nein busy, he felt oddly assured of himself. He squeezed Caleb’s hand to catch his attention as they continued their dance. 

“Would it make you more comfortable to switch? I shall follow and you can lead?”

“Um...uh, ja, whatever you would like,” Caleb said, before Essek moved his arm to his lower back. Essek arched it, and pressed close, because this was what you did when you tangoed and for no other selfish reason. He was rewarded with an intake of breath that felt like a victory. 

“I don’t bite,” Essek told him as they quick turned. “Relax, Widogast.” 

“I just...this is very different than the kind of dancing I am used to,” Caleb admitted with a shy smile, and to his credit Essek could feel him attempt to unwind some of his tension. “Much more...intimate?” 

“Isn’t that what dancing is supposed to be?” Essek asked, face close enough that they could share these secrets and he could smell wood-fire on Caleb’s skin. If he just tipped his head up so slightly…

He waited for the pause in the dragging of Caleb’s leg, before with a flourish he brushed his leg up against Caleb’s. 

“Surely those of the Empire must know that,” Essek said, his heels clicking back into place. “Otherwise it simply can’t compare.” 

“No, it can’t,” Caleb said, voice low and hushed and for the first time, he led them into a turn that felt natural and confident. 

Essek had the acute feeling he wasn’t talking about dancing. 

Essek was nearly tingling with the touch throughout the rest of his day. Through the daily report meetings, and his assignments with the Shadows, and even in his personal daily audience with the Bright Queen herself. It hadn’t gone away by the time he returned to his home. But when he walked to his front door, he immediately knew that something was different and it chilled that wonderful-lovely feeling and stilled it beneath his skin. The windows were just too bright, there was the shadow of too much activity. Gritting his teeth, he opened the door, his hand up and prepared to cast. 

His servant Amald immediately rushed to the door looking breathless and harried as he managed to stutter out, “my lord, good evening!” 

“What is happening?” Essek demanded, turning the corner to his living room. He immediately saw her. The snow-white-skinned tiefling continued to lie down upon his chaise, dressed in a violet velvet gown that clung to everything, her fur stole arranged over her shoulders. Upon his table there were two wine glasses, a lit candle, and an opened bottle of his wine chilling in ice. 

“Essek, my dearest, don’t look so dour,” she said, holding out her hand. One of his other servants, Hadise quickly placed a tray of refreshments down, giving Essek a desperate look before quickly scurrying back with Amald. “Finally! Come, say hello to your favorite sister. I hope you don’t mind that I broke into your good vintages.” 

“Adore,” Essek sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Haven’t you anything better to do than to torture my servants and burst into my house without invitation?” 

“You are too lenient on them,” Adore said sitting up, tapping claws against the wine glass as she set it down. “Besides, is this how you treat me? I came all this way to see you.” 

“You came here to attend the Illumination Ball,” Essek scoffed before looking around. “Where’s your husband?” 

“Oh, he’s sleeping off the trip at home,” Adore said, standing up. She inspected the mantle of the fireplace, admired his crystal roses and spun his preserved world globe. “I wanted to see you, and this was the only time I could think to catch you. When these kinds of events come up, you are normally holed up somewhere. Remember when Uralin had to go and collect you for your own personal address before the counsel?” 

“How could I forget,” Essek said coldly. “He broke my favorite writing desk.” 

“Our eldest brother forgets his own strength,” Adore laughed breezily, as she paused before the mirror and inspected her appearance. Her white-gold hair was pulled back into a slick chignon that was meant to emphasize her decorated horns, there wasn’t a hair out of place though she appeared to brush at it. “He was relatively new to the minotaur body at that point. But that’s besides the point, can you imagine my surprise when I heard that not only are you not hiding in some musty dusty corner somewhere, but that you actively preparing the Heroes of the Dynasty for the event? I just had to know more.” 

“What is there to know? I’m sure you have coaxed the words out of every passerby since coming to the capitol.” 

“I do sing a very convincing song,” she said with a coquettish grin. “Don’t I, Essek?” 

“I wouldn’t know,” Essek pointed out coldly. 

“Yes, yes. Immune to my charms, I know. You have your particular tastes.” 

“Tell me, really, what are you here for?” Essek asked her as he sat down. He filled his own glass with his wine, swirling it carefully. “We both know that these niceties do not suit you, and I assume you are not here to interrogate me about my sex life.”

“I think most would say the contrary for a variety of reasons, though, niceties are what you do best,” Adore pointed out, taking her seat and leaning against her hand as her elbow balanced upon the armrest. “And though your sex life  is very interesting I am sure, I won’t lie to you and say I am here for that. Mother told me to keep my eye on you. She is afraid that you are losing your edge.” 

“I promise you that no such thing has occurred,” Essek said with his most pleasant and agreeable smile. “Mother simply worries about me too much. Please, let her know that her concern is appreciated but unnecessary.” 

“I am sure it is,” Adore said with a sip, looking as if they were both sharing a private inside joke. “We both know very well that Mother usually frets over nothing. She has always had a soft spot for you, ever since you were adopted into our family. I have complete and utter faith in your abilities, Essek. I know that you are perfectly capable of separating personal feelings from your work.” 

“Of course,” Essek said, unaffected by her usual jabs. 

“Then you also won’t mind that Mother requested that I assist you, and that I intend to do that.” 

Essek felt his fingers twitch and tighten their grip upon his glass. 

“Though I appreciate the thought, it is wholly unnecessary as I told Mother. I am sure that you have plenty you wish to do while in the city--” 

“Oh I do, but I am also the head of the Musedel College of the Bardic Arts, if I didn’t assist you, what would that say about me? Besides, I also wish to meet this fabled Mighty Nien that you seem so determined to hog to yourself,” Adore asked with the mockery of a playful smile, placing down her empty glass. Essek stood quickly, wincing at the pain in his back as he did. Amald quickly came into the room with her coat. She put it on, before looking back at Essek with a challenge in her golden eyes. “I shall have one of my servants come to gather the details in the morning. Unless there is a problem?”

“No problem, I am thankful for your thoughtfulness,” Essek said, as she leaned close to him and studied his expression. She smoothed his cloak, in a mockery of gentle concern. 

“Are you worried, perhaps? Don’t worry, Essek. I won’t steal any of your toys from you,” she promised with an indulgent smirk. “Unless they look particularly delicious, that is. I know you won’t mind.” 

“I am sure they will appreciate the expert touch you will bring to their education,” Essek said, his smile tasting sour upon his face. “Goodnight, sister.” 

With a click of her heels, the swish of her skirt, and the scent of jasmine she left his house. Essek stood there, gritting his teeth, trying to contain the wash of frustration that crashed into him like a wave. After a few moments of breathing, he managed to get it all under control. 

“Lord of Light give me strength,” Essek prayed, looking up at the ceiling, before blowing out the candle. 

[will-iswriting-again]

And She Means Everything to Me

Fandom: Critical Role

Relationship(s): Widojest

Warnings: None :) 

It’s widojest week so I wrote a little something when I got home from work for day 1: Dance

Summary: “Do you want to dance?” He asked suddenly. “I think I owe you a proper one after Hupperdook.” 

Jester’s smile grew wider as she glanced around, most of the others had trudged upstairs to go to sleep already and those who hadn’t were lying on the couch in a heavy, alcohol-induced slumber. “But there isn’t any music,” She said in a breathless laugh but her energy filled bounce betrayed any sense of rejection.   

Caleb thought it was the lack of anxiety the allowed him to raise an eyebrow and smile as he replied, “So?”

It was rare when the familiar curl of anxiety, bubbling and rolling in Caleb’s gut, settled. It had been there when he first met the Nein, a firecracker of nerves that always appeared when Caleb met new people. The anxiety had roared through him during their brief stint with the Iron Shepherds, a pounding drum that screamed, save them. It dulled to a lulling, but constant, thrum aboard the Balleater, not unlike the sea beneath them. It crawled over his skin in Xhorhas, threatening to drown him in politics, betrayal, and war.

  Tonight, however, it was calm. He tucked it into some distant corner of Caleb’s mind to be dealt with tomorrow because tonight, they were celebrating. 

  Yasha was back and with her the renewed favor of the Bright Queen. So all members of the Mighty Nein, along with an appropriately uncomfortable Essek Thelyss, bought some very expensive Xhorhasian alcohol and decided to get extraordinarily drunk. 

  Jester and Yasha worked to add some more fairy lights throughout the house, and now the whole area was lit with a soft, blue glow. Beau, along with Yeza, found a new talent in mixing and had made an array of drinks with enough types of alcohol to give them headaches for the next week. Caduceus revealed he could play an instrument, as did Fjord, much to everyone’s surprise, and designated themselves entertainment for the evening. Caleb had tried to make himself useful but, honestly, there hadn’t been much to do except get ready to enjoy himself.

  Once preparations had been made and everyone couldn’t bear to wait any longer, Beau decided to make a toast. Or at least she tried to, “The past few weeks have been, without any doubt, absolutely-” She started before Nott slammed her drink down.

  “Fluffernutter!” Her reedy voice trilled and Caleb decided it was very fitting for their group. 

  Soon they were all pleasantly drunk. Caduceus and Fjord donned their instruments and were playing a joyful, if a bit sloppy, folk tune. At some point, Nott had stumbled over with an equally drunk Yeza and the two began a horrendous harmony to accompany the instruments. Caleb could even see Yasha looking a bit tipsy as she and Beau cajoled an increasingly annoyed looking Essek. 

  Caleb, however, was still nursing his first drink of the evening. He wanted to remember every second of tonight. He’d sacrificed a lot to be with these people, but he’d gained a lot too. It felt good, not having to look over his back all the time. And while it was incredibly dangerous, it was comforting having his past out in the open too.

  Tonight felt like a culmination of all their sacrifices. The choices they made, the people they left behind or lost along the way. It was nice to know that everything had worked itself out in the end. So, yeah, Caleb wanted to remember this.

  He was so lost in thought that he didn’t even notice the blue tiefling sidling up next to him. “Hello, Cay-leb,” Jester grinned, wiggling into Caleb’s side. His heart stuttered. 

  “Uh, hello, Jester,” He replied, giving her a shy smile in return. 

  He was sure Jester had noticed how sober he was compared to the rest of the group. Caleb knew it was only because of his lack of alcohol but he felt honored that Jester sought him out. 

  “Why aren’t you drinking?” She asked with a tilt of her head. One of the earrings on her horns hit the metal around the tips. Jester wasn’t accusing, just curious.

  “I want to remember this.” He gestured to the rest of the group, who were slowly starting to settle down. Yeza sat on the couch on the far right of the room, playing with Nott’s hair as she struggled to stay awake. Caduceus and Fjord had stopped their music and were now chatting quietly to each other. Beau and Yasha had disappeared upstairs and Caleb had a feeling he shouldn’t go up there any time soon. “All of it.”

  Jester hummed in response and settled her head on Caleb’s shoulder. His breath caught in his throat. “You know what this reminds me of?” She asked after a beat of silence. “Hupperdook. You know, before Molly or Avantika. Everyone was so happy then.” She sounded wistful.

  “We’re all still very happy, Jester,” Caleb replied with a frown. You make me happy, ran through his thoughts. 

  “Are you sure?” She asked, looking up at him, her brow furrowed and her eyes brimming with uncertainty. Caleb had the sudden urge to kiss the tension away.

  “Positive.” Caleb held her gaze long until she was sure Caleb wasn’t lying to her. 

  “Oh, I’m so glad. Everything has been so serious and I was… afraid.” Jester admitted quietly and Caleb squeezed her shoulder. Caleb didn’t know how to comfort her because he had those same fears every day. There was always the worry that these people would abandon him, leaving him to fend for himself again.

  “I feel the same, believe it or not,” Caleb responded. “We are all so… temporary in the grand scheme of things. But I will never abandon you, Jester. You have my word.” The words left Caleb’s mouth before he realized they were gone. It was dangerous, how easily he promised things to Jester. He wanted to give her everything she wanted. But this was a promise he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to keep. Caleb was very fragile and they lived very dangerous lives. 

  But the smile Jester gave him made it all worth it. “Thank you, Caleb,” She replied, her voice softer and rawer than Caleb had ever heard it.

  “Do you want to dance?” He asked suddenly. “I think I owe you a proper one after Hupperdook.” 

  Jester’s smile grew wider as she glanced around, most of the others had trudged upstairs to go to sleep already and those who hadn’t were lying on the couch in a heavy, alcohol-induced slumber. “But there isn’t any music,” She said in a breathless laugh but her energy filled bounce betrayed any sense of rejection

  Caleb thought it was the lack of anxiety the allowed him to raise an eyebrow and smile as he replied, “So?” 

  Jester let out a real laugh as she led Caleb to the center of the room. He placed his hands securely around Jester’s waist and she looped her around his neck. They danced, a gentle sway and small elegant steps, to a rhythm only they knew. Jester was grinning, gazing up at him, her eyes alight. Love Caleb didn’t even know he had surged through at the sight as he gave her an adoring smile.

 Gods, she’s beautiful, he thought. She laid her head on Caleb’s chest. He was filled with pleasant warmth and he knew she could hear the wild beating of his heart. Caleb leaned his head down and pressed his nose into her hair. She smelled like cinnamon and vanilla. Sweet with a hint of spice. Very fitting, he thought and let out a low chuckle. 

  “What is it?” Jester asked, raising her head from his chest. “What’s funny?”

  “Nothing. It’s just- you know that you’re-” A thousand words popped into his mind: beautiful, mesmerizing, smart, kind, enchanting. “Everything, right?” He settled on and Jester’s cheeks turned pink. 

  She reached up to him, her head tilted slightly. An invitation, hesitant so Caleb could back out if he wanted, but the intention was clear. Caleb was expecting to panic at this point, to have to break away from this sliver of paradise they had created. But Caleb surprised himself when he found that every part of himself wanted to meet her.

  So he did. He closed the distance between them and met her lips in a soft kiss. Caleb raised his hands from Jester’s waist to cup her cheeks. Her skin was warm beneath his fingers and Caleb felt her release a contented sigh. The kiss was long, full of want and longing and passion that was long overdue. Jester's lips were soft, she tasted like candy. Caleb could have kissed her for hours. 

  Eventually, they broke away, Jester’s face flushed and filled with joy, love, and the promise of something more. Caleb only prayed the same things were evident on his. Caleb ran his hand through Jester’s hair before settling them back on her waist. Jester leaned her forehead on Caleb’s chest as her arms hung loosely around Caleb’s shoulders. 

  Jester began humming suddenly, something romantic, something slow. She smiled up at him again and if this was Caleb’s future then he was the luckiest man alive. They continued dancing, sweet and slow until the lights dimmed and even Jester could hardly stay up on her own two feet. 

  Caleb walked her to her bedroom and Jester’s hand lingered on his arm as she opened her door. Beau wasn't there, presumably in Yasha’s room for the night. Jester looked into the room and then back at him. She stood on her toes and gave him a chaste kiss before slipping inside and closing the door. 

  Caleb brought a hand to his lips. A promise. An assurance that this was something they would explore tomorrow.

[mnemememory]

better to scream

yasha is too tired for this shit.

pacific rim fusion au part 2 of 2 (part 1)

.

Yasha doesn’t hear about it until later. Much later.

She wakes up in the infirmary with Jester’s anxious hands fluttering between Yasha’s collarbone and her temple. She looks far worse for ware than the last time Yasha had seen her, with bruises running down the side of her face and along her throat. She’s hidden as much of it as she can with long sleeves and blue-tinged concealer, but it doesn’t really help.

“Yasha,” Jester says, when Yasha opens her eyes. “You’re awake!”

Everything hurts.

“How – how much do you remember?”

Everything hurts.

This is what Yasha remembers: Beau panicking on the coms. “There’s something wrong with Jester and Fjord!” she’s saying, but it’s far away and fuzzy. Yasha blinks. Molly is next to her, out of his harness and shaking her arm, but he can’t be real. Yasha is dreaming.

“Yasha is –” he’s saying, and then. Nothing.

Yasha’s tongue feels thick and dry in her mouth. She tries to swallow down her spit, but her throat screams in protest and starts coughing instead.

“Oh, Yasha! Here is some water – I should go and get a nurse –”

Yasha accepts the straw with exhausted gratefulness. She tries to sit up, but her ribs buckle at the sudden movement and she falls back to the bed with a silent scream. The water sloshes out of the cup and across her shirt, and she somehow manages to stab herself with the straw.

Yasha tries to speak, but she has to clear her throat a few times to get the words out. Despite looking around nervously for a medical professional, Jester doesn’t seem too inclined to actually leave the room, but Yasha anchors her to the bed with a hand to her wrist anyway.

“Molly,” she spits out, and starts coughing again.

Jester blanches grey.

“Where,” Yasha says.

Jester rips her hand away. There are red welts against her skin from where Yasha has pressed her nails in a little too deeply. They’re going to bruise. Yasha feels sick.

“I need to get Beau,” Jester says, rushing unsteadily to her feet and tripping drunkenly to the door. From the look of it, she isn’t in much state to walk, let along run anywhere.

Yasha rolls onto her side, heedless of the pain, and vomits noisily onto the floor.

.

“I changed my mind,” Yasha says, walking as briskly as the ghost-ache in her ribs will let her. “I’m not doing this.”

Caduceus follows her at a more sedate pace, looking not the least bit perturbed at the thought of her going. This only fuels Yasha’s greater desire to just up and leave. That’s the only thing she’s proven consistently good at, so why mess with a thing that works? Yasha is going to leave, and the world is going to burn, and it won’t matter anymore because even without getting back into Necrotic Shroud Yasha is as good as dead anyway.

“You chased the RABIT,” Caduceus says. “But it won’t happen again. You’re trained against it.”

“It shouldn’t have happened in the first place!” Yasha says. She doesn’t really know where she’s going, only that she needs to get as far away from Caduceus Clay as she possibly can. She feels gross. There’s a layer of grime under her skin that she can’t scrub away no matter how hard she tries. Everything about Yasha is rotten.

“I don’t think –”

“No, I obviously haven’t been thinking,” Yasha says. “This is a terrible idea. I’m not nearly emotionally stable enough for this shit –”

Someone clears their throat from behind her.

Yasha turns around, teeth bared, growl building low in her throat. “What?”

The person she confronts barely reaches up to her waist, with dyed-green hair bright enough to match with Jester and chipped, uneven teeth. She gives a small squeak and jumps back when Yasha turns to look at her, behind a taller man with a scraggly beard and bloodshot eyes. There is a tattoo of a Bengal cat done prominently across his throat.

“Good afternoon,” he says through heavy Zemnian accent. The small woman bares her teeth.

Yasha jerks back, caught between here-and-now and there-and-then. She forces her breathing to even out.

“You knew Molly.”

The man blinks, slowly. “Caleb Widogast,” he says, giving a small bow. “Science and Research Division. This is my co-worker, Veth.”

“Nott,” the woman corrects. At Yasha’s blank look, Nott-not-Veth rolls her eyes. “Only Caleb calls me Veth. My name is Nott.”

“Okay,” Yasha says. Her eyes keep flickering back to Caleb. There is something horribly familiar about his face.

He takes pity on her. “Mollymauk and I were roommates, the first year in the Academy,” he says. “I…dropped out to pursue knowledge, but he continued on to be a pilot.”

“Do you know what happened to him?” Yasha says. She can’t quite see straight. Her voice sounds distant, muted.

“I know enough,” Caleb says, and doesn’t clarify.

Nott clears her throat. “If you’ll excuse us, we have to go and give the Marshall our reports –”

“Of course.” Caleb shakes his head. He gives Yasha a polite smile, and then turns to Caduceus to give him a broader one. “I’m sure you two will work out your differences.”

I wouldn’t bet on it, Yasha doesn’t say. She’s very good at holding her tongue.

Caleb re-straightens his armful of papers. “If you ever feel like talking about him –”

He leaves the sentence open-ended. Yasha’s stomach squirms uncomfortably.

Nott does her a favour and whacks Caleb in the arm. “We’re understaffed and out of budget,” she says. “If you want to come down to help, feel free, but if it’s just to lie around drinking you’re going to have to find another person. Caleb here is too important to take too much time off work –”

“Yes, thank you, Nott,” Caleb says, hurrying them both past. There’s an embarrassed tinge of red to his cheeks that has Yasha, despite herself, suppressing a smile.

Caduceus is nice enough to be silent on their walk back to her room. It’s when he doesn’t leave that Yasha starts feeling the first real prickles of panic start to set in.

“Go away,” she says. “I think we’ve established that this isn’t going to work.”

Caduceus takes two deliberate steps out into the hallway and then sits down on the ground, leaning his back against the wall. Yasha stares at him in disbelief. It’s cold enough that her joints are aching, the lack of electricity and functional air-conditioning only further hampered by the fact that the whole building is made out of cold metal.

“You can’t be serious,” she says.

Caduceus shrugs and takes a small thermos out of one of his absurdly large pockets. He takes a small sip and sighs appreciatively.

“Would you like some tea?” he says.

Yasha slams the door closed.

.

Jester is alone, which is why Yasha goes to her.

She’s sitting curled tight in a corner, as out of the way as possible while still technically being in the main building. She’s shaking. Her fingers are clenched hard into her forearms, nails digging deep enough to leave bruises. Yasha doesn’t know where Fjord or Beau are, but she hasn’t seen them since yesterday. She doesn’t even know where they sleep. She used to know, once upon a time.

“Hey,” she says, leaning heavily against the wall and dropping to the ground next to her. Jester gives a hiccupping laugh and leans into her shoulder.

“Please don’t ask me why I’m upset,” she says.

“Okay,” Yasha says.

Jester manages a smile. Then she presses her face against Yasha’s jacket and starts to cry.

.

The alarm, when it sounds, is loud and familiar.

Yasha is up out of her bed and reaching for a uniform that doesn’t exist before she even processes it. She stumbles, cursing, out into the hallway and almost trips on Caduceus.

“What’s going on?” she says.

Caduceus just grabs onto her wrist and starts running.

The control room is a study in chaos. Yasha and Caduceus are collectively too large to dodge the people swarming around like rats in a sewer, so they carve out a path straight to where Shakaste and a tall, thinly androgynous figure is sitting in front of three screens. Every reflective surface is blaring red-and-white, doing nothing to dampen the impending panic.

“Bryce,” Yasha says, when she gets close enough.

Bryce looks up with a brief, strained smile. “Yasha. It would be good to see you, under different circumstances.”

Shakaste is talking to the gathered crowd. “Two signatures,” he says, and Yasha’s world goes white.

She barely hears the rest of the briefing. “Both Category 4’s. Codenames: Serissa and Catagan. They’ll reach the coast within the hour.”

Yasha looks out the window, into the hanger bay. Necrotic Shroud sits like a dead thing to the side, limbs limp and useless.

“We need to evacuate the cities. Shut down the bridges. We’ve sent out a general alert, so every civilian should be making their way into refuges right now.”

Beau is in the room. Yasha looks up and sees her, flanked by Jester and Fjord. They look grim and grey, all in uniform. Yasha’s cotton shirt and leggings suddenly feel far too light.

“Dragon Slayer,” Shakaste says. “Converging Fury. You two need to frontline this. Mighty Nein, stay back to the coastline and don’t engage until there is no other option.” He flashes a bright, savage smile. “We can’t afford to lose you right now.”

Four strangers salute from the crowd. Yasha barely has time to tattoo their faces into her memory before they’re gone, just as swiftly as they had first appeared. These are the pilots, she thinks. She’s seen them on television, working on the Wall – there hadn’t been much entertainment out there save for drinking and listening to bad radio, so television was treated as a luxury commodity. Her co-workers had enjoyed shouting rude things at the screen whenever a Jaeger pilot came into view.

They look so much smaller in person.

Shakaste turns to face Yasha and Caduceus. “You two will stay put.”

Yasha’s jaw clenches, but Caduceus nods for her.

One of the new pilots hesitates – Keg, her brain produces, and she doesn’t know whether it’s her own knowledge or Caduceus’s – eyes narrowed into stubborn slits. She looks like she wants to say something to Yasha, but her partner – Nila, taller than Caduceus but somehow less intimidating – nudges her away.

Someone grabs onto Yasha’s forearm and drags her down the hall. It takes her a few seconds to realise that it’s Beau, and then she starts internally panicking.

“If we don’t make it back,” Beau says.

Yasha glares at her.

“If we don’t make it back,” Beau barrels through. “Then I’m – I’m sorry for being such a…” her teeth grit.

Yasha pats her on the shoulder. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“God you’re the worst,” Beau says. “I’m trying to apologise.”

“Are you still taking lessons from Fjord?” Yasha says. “Because it shows.”

Beau turns on her heel and starts to stalk away. Yasha races after her and pulls her back by the wrist.

“What…?”

Yasha kisses her on the cheek. It’s fast and it’s soft and means a lot less than Yasha wants it to say, but there isn’t really much time and the alarm is still blaring around them.

“You’re going to make it back,” she says.

Beau blinks for a second, like she’s been stunned, and then shakes her head and rushes off. Yasha watches her go and tries not to think about how the last time they had kissed, Molly had died.

.

Caduceus finds her in her room, praying.

She hasn’t done this since she got to the Shatterdome, and the guilt of it slicks hot through her gut. There’s a part of Yasha that wonders if this is punishment – she knows the stories, knows the tests of devotion that plague the world before the world like poison. It’s so hard not to take the world ending personally. She’s got her holy symbol in her hand and her breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

“I didn’t know you were religious,” Caduceus says, sitting on the floor in her doorframe.

“He saved me,” Yasha says. Her voice is a small, strained thing. Her fingers are cramping around the metal, skin white on contact. “I’d be – dead, without Him.”

“I understand,” Caduceus says calmly. He unhooks something from inside his shirt and pulls it out to show her a small stone with a swirl carved into it. If Yasha squints, she can see the outline of a crashing wave.

Yasha can’t manage a smile. She just bows her head over her effigy of the Stormlord and whispers impossible things under her breath.

Caduceus doesn’t say anything else, just sits there and lets Yasha breathe.

.

Dragon Slayer dies the way all giants do.

Loudly.

.

“Do you know how he died?” Yasha says.

Her spine plate clicks into place, the sharp bite of needles piercing down her back causing her to momentarily cut off and hiss.

Caduceus stands next to her, seemingly unaffected, as technicians swarm through their last-minute check-ups.

“I’ve heard the stories,” he says, eyes straight forward.

Yasha smiles as two people fit her chest-plate over her collarbones. “His name was Lorenzo,” she says. “And he thought he was a monster.”

“I’ve heard that story, too,” Caduceus says.

“He got past all the background checks that this place needed back in my time,” Yasha says. “And he smiled every time someone came back for seconds. He was a very good cook.”

She can still see him standing in the cafeteria. She’s seen him smiling every time she closes her eyes.

They give her the helmet. Yasha checks the inside and then starts walking forward into Necrotic Shroud’s head. Caduceus follows her. An outsider wouldn’t have noticed the way his feet hesitate at the entrance, the way his fingers linger on the harness. Yasha can feel it like an ache in her bones.

“How much of it did you see?”

“Enough,” Caduceus says.

Yasha lets herself have one short burst of laughter. It isn’t much, but it makes her feel better, somehow. “The morning of Shepherd, he drugged the food. Molly and Beau were sleeping in, but Jester and Fjord and I…”

Yasha’s throat closes over as she straps herself into the harness, fingers numb. This time, no one tries to help her.

“I passed out in the cockpit in the middle of the fight,” Yasha says, voice thick and eyes unblinking. “Beau was piloting a three-person Jaeger by herself. She managed to kill it, but not in time for –”

“Prepare for neural handshake,” Shakaste’s cool voice comes over the comms.

“That won’t happen this time,” Caduceus says. “I’ve seen the photos. I’m a lot larger than Mollymauk. I think either of those monsters would have a lot harder of a time swallowing me than him. He was very skinny.”

Yasha turns and gapes at him.

“Four, three, two –”

“What?”

“One.”

The Drift is silence.

Yasha feels Caduceus’ presence like a warm pulse, green and growing. She barely has time to hold her breath before she’s dragged under and drowning.

Someone asked Yasha, once, what Drifting felt like. It was probably in an early interview – before questions like that had been blacklisted. Yasha hadn’t managed to find the right words.

Here’s the best that fits:

A white room spattered in blood.

“I find that I don’t quite agree with you, Miss Yasha,” Caduceus says, and the world unfurls into something bigger and brighter than Yasha could have ever dreamed of.

Yasha comes back to her body with a gasp, jerking forward. Necrotic Shroud groans under her.

“Neural handshake holding steady,” Bryce says.

“Are you ready?” Caduceus says, sounding totally unperturbed. She can feel him shaking in her bones.

We’re about to get dropped into an active warzone, Yasha thinks. I haven’t piloted in years. You’ve never piloted at all. This is the first double event ever, and the only reason we’re being allowed to do this is because of our nuclear core.

The thought of Beau and Jester and Fjord trapped in the lifeless corpse of their Jaeger as the monsters swarm around makes something cold lurch in Yasha’s stomach.

“Sure,” she says, and apparently that’s good enough, because they’re dropping down.

.

Someone told Yasha once, “You fight angry.”

(A lot of people have told her that).

The monster looms out of the water, and Yasha laughs.

.

“It’s not over,” Caleb says, because of course it isn’t. Something like this will never be over.

Yasha is exhausted all the way down to her bones. She leans against the wall and closes her eyes, listening with only half an ear. Caduceus is little better. Drift-hangover is never fun, especially after your first ride. Usually it’s something that should be mediated out over a long period of time with copious amounts of mineral-water, and that’s just for simulations. The real thing is a thousand times more intense.

They don’t have the luxury of waiting around, though. Yasha can feel Caduceus in her head, twisting and churning. There are thoughts that don’t make much sense, prayers to the wrong god rattling around her skull.

“I predicted this double event,” Caleb says. “But this definitely isn’t he end. It’s just going to get worse from here on out.”

Behind the couch, huddled between Beau and Fjord, Jester gives a ragged cheer. They all look exhausted, wound as tight around each other as their shaking limbs would allow. Jester has a bruise along her cheek, and Beau’s left eye is patched over. Yasha had managed to get a peek at it in the infirmary: it was bright red, all the blood vessels burst.

“You’re such a ray of sunshine,” Beau says. “Every time you enter the room, the place brightens.”

Fjord sighs. His lip is split rather dramatically, but other than that he looks fairly stable – especially compared to the train wreck that his partners are presenting. “Go on, Caleb.”

Caleb gives a melodramatic flare of his hands, and holograms burst to life across the table. Jester oohs and aahs appreciatively. Despite herself, Yasha opens one eye to look.

“Here, we have the Breach,” Caleb says, pointing to the narrow point on his diagram. “Here we have the trench, and here is wherever the hell these things come from.”

“Probably a dimension incredibly dissimilar to our own,” Nott-not-Veth says. “Their physiology isn’t like anything on this planet, and I’ve been cross-testing whatever samples I can get my hands on over all the databases I have access to. Nothing.”

“Now, we’ve been getting these creatures coming in at increasingly smaller intervals. First it was every few months, which shortened to every few weeks – now, it’s every few days. The time between gets cut in half. In two days, we’re going to have another event.”

Yasha closes her eye. Around her, whispers break out.

“Our original plan was to send Mighty Nein with the thermonuclear warhead so we could drop it into the Breach,” Caleb says. “But that isn’t going to work anymore thanks to that last attack.”

“They’re learning,” Jester says, shivering. Beau hugs her tighter.

Caleb sighs. “It’s not just that they’re learning – they’re learning faster than we are. There are only so many adjustments we can make before we have to start building from the bones out again. That takes money that we don’t have.”

Yasha can imagine Molly sitting next to her and toasting his beer high: “Thanks for fucking us all, world government!” Next to her, Caduceus has to disguise his laugh as a cough.

Caleb’s face is fish-belly white as he stares around at them, dirt smudging along his cheeks like bruises. Yasha so badly wants to just go to sleep and never wake up. She’s so tired of this.

“We can’t switch out the power sources,” he says. “That would require entirely new Jaegers. At the moment, the only one who can reliably get to the Breach is Necrotic Shroud. Everything else will get taken out by that electromagnetic pulse.”

“If they can disable the Jaegers that far underwater, we’re sitting ducks,” Beau agrees. “It won’t matter that we’ve got the warhead if we can’t get it there.”

“Look at it this way,” Nott-not-Veth says. “If one of them pokes you too hard, you can just detonate yourselves and half the ocean with you.”

Yasha can feel eyes turning their way.

“You can’t be serious,” she says.

Shakaste flashes them a smooth grin. “You’re the best shot we have ate getting it there intact.”

“We’re down two Jaegers and the third is pretty badly damaged,” Yasha says. “And haven’t we tried bombing the Breach before? It didn’t exactly work out well the first time.”

“We’re running out of options,” Shakaste says.

“So we’re trying something that didn’t work before again because – what? Second time’s the charm?”

Caleb clears his throat. “The increased traffic should – if my predictions are correct –”

“Which they are,” Nott-not-Veth helpfully puts in.

Caleb ducks his head a little. “The increased traffic should force the Breach to stabilise and remain open long enough to get the warhead through far enough to collapse it’s structure. They’ve been coming through fairly regularly. The first time we tried – it was only months after the second attack, back when we didn’t know much about things. We were still learning.”

“That hasn’t changed,” Yasha says.

“I’m sorry,” Caleb says, eyes icy. “I didn’t realise that you were the one with a Masters in biochemistry –”

“Nothing’s ever even managed to get through it, though,” Fjord says, putting out his arms placatingly. Yasha leans back into the couch with a scowl, not entirely willing to let things go, but also not wanting to start a fight she doesn’t know she can win. Not now. Not when her head feels like she’s been used

Nott-not-Veth grins. “Actually, that’s where I come in.”

.

“This isn’t going to work,” Yasha says, staring at the blue, jelly-like substance that is being rubbed across every square inch of Necrotic Shroud’s metal body. Across the hanger bay, Mighty Nein and Converging Fury are being given the same treatment by some techs fitted out in hazmat suits.

The whole area had been evacuated on the grounds that interacting with biohazardous material would probably kill somebody. Yasha doesn’t quite know how to feel about this whole thing.

“It should certainly be interesting, though,” Caduceus says.

Yasha gives an unattractive snort. “That’s one word for it.”

“How did they even get this stuff?” Yasha says. “Aren’t we supposed to be – broke?”

“Oh, that’s a whole story,” Caduceus says. “It happened just a little bit after you left, I think – so apparently, Jester has a mob boss for a father –”

“Jester has a what?”

Nott-not-Veth is down on the ground, hazmat suit noticeably smaller than everyone else’s, bossing people around. As Yasha looks, she gives one of the technicians a whack on the back of the calf and grabs the hose from them, yelling profanities.

“I don’t want to know what that’s about,” Yasha says, when she’s recovered from the sudden shock of Jester – small, sweet, strong Jester – being related to one of the biggest crime bosses in the Dwendalian Empire. Yasha’s heart isn’t good enough for this.

“Nott isn’t so bad, once you get used to her,” Caduceus says. “And she’s a genius as well.”

“I don’t usually do well with geniuses,” Yasha says. People had called Molly a genius. Yasha had been good – had been better than good, sometimes – but it was always within the expected parameters of her personality. Yasha is big and can hit things. When Yasha is in Necrotic Shroud, she is bigger, and can hit bigger things.  Molly had been the one to aim for the throat.

Caduceus hmms next to her but doesn’t speak up. They’re standing side-by-side over the hanger bay, feet dangling off the edge. Yasha can smell the potent mix of chemicals even from up here. She tries not to think about how proud Nott-not-Veth had been when she had announced the plan, but it’s a lost cause.

“My husband is a chemist,” she had said, chest puffed out. “He usually just stays at home and takes care of our son, especially since we moved out here for my job, but I asked him to come in and help with this. Edith is taking care of Luc at the moment, and –”

Yasha keeps nodding and smiling. She doesn’t understand half of the words that have started coming out of Nott’s mouth, and she’s frankly too scared to ask for some more clarification. Caduceus nods in time with Nott’s tone of voice and keeps smiling, long after Yasha can keep up the pretence of being interested in the process of deconstructing and mass-manufacturing monster DNA.

“Do you want to see photos?”

Yasha blanches, thinking of her brief (if singularly traumatising) foray into the deep, dark vestiges of the Shatterdome R&D department. She still hasn’t managed to scrub the image of monster parts, hacked to pieces, lying strewn out across the ground in some kind of disturbing parody of a children’s abstract painting. Nott had been in the middle of it all, elbow-length gloves covered in metallic blue muck and humming cheerfully to herself. Even Caleb was giving her a wide birth, which was saying something.

“We’d love to,” Caduceus says, showing – once again – that he had the self-preservation instincts of a blind lemming. Yasha starts to elbow him in the stomach, but she’s cut off as Nott shoves her phone underneath Yasha’s nose. Visible even underneath the layer of congealing blue slime is a small boy smiling happily at the camera, held tight by his short father.

“Oh,” Yasha says, softly. “He’s lovely.”

Nott’s smile is a thousand degrees hot and a world wide. “Isn’t he?”

.

“I need to talk with you.”

Yasha feels ambushed.

She had thought – well, she had hoped that there would be some lead up to this conversation. Some kind of warning. Instead, Beau is leaning with her hip against Yasha’s door, blocking the only entrance into her room. Caduceus is nowhere to be seen, the coward. Considering how he’s been camping out in that exact same spot for the past few days, he’s either been bribed or blackmailed to move. Traitor.

Beau doesn’t look good. None of them do, really, but there’s something extra than exhaustion hiding underneath her dark skin. She manages a grin when Yasha glares at her, opening the door and sweeping her arm out in invitation.

Yasha thinks about it.

“Okay,” she says, shoulders slumping in defeat. She walks inside.

She hasn’t had time to make the room as nice as things had once been – it’s too small and too empty at the same time. Molly exists in every corner.

Beau surveys the room with an arched eyebrow, and then leans back against the bed with a wry grin.

“Hey.”

Yasha crosses her arms across her chest and doesn’t say anything.

“So, I’ve been avoiding you,” Beau says.

Yasha gives her a Look.

“Yeah, I know,” Beau says. “But things have been pretty crazy lately, you’ve got to admit. There’s all these events, and very big monsters, and hey you’ve got a new Drift partner –”

“I’m not sorry for leaving,” Yasha interrupts.

Beau’s lips thin, and she cuts off with a sharp sigh.

“I had to go,” Yasha says. She feels desperate in a way she can’t fully express. She’s got three layers of skin between the air and her muscles, the shapes all stretched out to an awkward fit. Molly’s grin aches in the lines of her jaw. She can taste Caduceus’ favourite blend of tea in the back of her throat. Yasha doesn’t exist anymore except as a vessel for ghosts. “Beau, I had to go. I was dying.”

“You think we weren’t?” Beau says. Her fists are clenched at her sides, knuckles wrapped. The skin around the wrappings is scraped and bruised – she had obviously been working out her aggression before coming here.

Yasha leans back against the wall, abruptly drained. She doesn’t want a fight. For once in her life, Yasha doesn’t want to fight.

“I’m not sorry I left,” she says. “But I’m sorry that I left you.”

Beau’s head jerks to the side, cheeks flaring up. Her fists clench down harder, until there are going to be half-moon bruises on her palms later from her fingernails. Yasha has the absurd urge to reach out and curl her fingers between Beau’s, to kiss her knuckles. Without even meaning to, Yasha’s hand begins to reach out.

“Do you know what’s been going on?” Beau says. Her voice sounds clogged, raw. Yasha’s hand freezes. “Do you know what’s been happening these past few years? There are so many dead bodies out there. Every time we go out to fight, we’re walking over corpses.”

“The world is made of bones,” Yasha says.

Beau’s laugh is bitter. She throws her whole head into it, smile sharp enough to cut. “I can’t let them down,” she says. Yasha can tell from the tone of her voice that she is talking about Jester and Fjord. “I can’t let them die. I can live with anything else, but I can’t live without them.”

Yasha reaches out to take Beau’s knotted hand. It feels fevered in her cooler fingers, wounded. She gently flattens out her palms and leans forward to kiss her right index finger.

Beau watches her in a daze. The covering for her eye is still there, but the sticky-tape that’s been holding it to her skin is breaking away to reveal the horror underneath. Her eyelid is swelling into a blackened lump, the eye itself underneath red.

“When Molly died,” Yasha says. “The world kept spinning.”

“But you didn’t.”

Yasha smiles. Molly smiles with her.

“I wonder, sometimes,” she says. “If he even existed. I have – holes, in my memory. A lot of holes. Have I – have I ever told you that? I wake up, and I can’t remember my name. I have to think really hard about it. But I can always remember his.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save him,” Beau says, and starts crying.

.

“Did you have a good talk?”

Yasha glares at Caduceus as they leisurely walk towards the kitchen. Caduceus has his ever-present flask of tea in hand. Every time she tries some of it, it’s a different blend. Tea is almost impossible to get around here, even if it’s home-grown. Even drifting, Caduceus hadn’t been willing to share that little secret.

“It was for your own good,” Caduceus says, smile serene. He doesn’t appear to be noticing the dark clouds that are beginning to swarm over Yasha’s face, but the other people in the surrounding area certainly are. They begin to back away. Caduceus breezes on: “Things were complicated between you. Hopefully, they’re now less complicated.”

“They’re still complicated,” Yasha says, arms folded across her chest.

“Yes,” Caduceus says. “But having sex is a different kind of complicated to wanting to have sex.”

Yasha turns and walks away.

.

“Here’s what we need to do,” Caleb says.

The image is a little ridiculous. Caleb is standing in front of an old-fashioned blackboard, a piece of chalk in one hand and a laser-pointer in the other. Yasha keeps getting distracted by the bright light, which probably isn’t exactly the point of this exercise. She wishes that Caduceus would stop snickering at her from behind his tea.

There is a crudely drawn diagram on the blackboard. It looks nothing like Caleb’s usual shorthand scrawl – rather, suspiciously like it was done by a small child…

Nott notices Yasha’s look and puts a finger to her lips. “Children aren’t allowed in the Shatterdome,” she mouths.

“Here,” Caleb says, pointing. “Is the entry point.”

“Are you sure?” Fjord says.

Caleb gives him a bland look. “I’m sure,” he says. “And here” – this time, he uses the laser-pointed to wriggle around the top-left side – “is where Necrotic Shroud is going to push forward. You’re all going at different angles to hopefully catch the double event before they can disrupt our plans too much.”

“So we won’t have backup?” Keg says. Nila is sitting next to her, serene and calm. Yasha wishes that she didn’t know that Nila has a husband and child. She wishes that Caduceus hadn’t ever told her.

“No,” Caleb says.

“This plan definitely won’t fail,” Keg says.

“We only have until tomorrow to prepare,” Caleb says, ignoring her. “But we’ve already fitted all of your Jaegers with trace amounts of alien DNA – according to Veth’s predictions, they have a kind of lock on what can and cannot enter. Since you’ve all been coated –”

“You’ll all be able to go through!” Nott says, beaming. “Have fun falling into another world. I’m going to be safe and sound here, drinking my worries away.”

“If we fail, you’re not going to be very safe,” Fjord points out.

“If you fail, I’ll drink myself into a coma and not have to worry about it,” Nott says.

Shakaste clears his throat, hiding a smile behind his hand. “If you wouldn’t mind continuing?”

“Mighty Nein is going to enter the water first and get to the far side – then Converging Fury will go to the right, and Necrotic Shroud to the left. Necrotic Shroud is the one that absolutely must get through. They’re holding the payload.”

“And let me just say, I’m thrilled to be working so closely with nuclear explosives,” Caduceus says. “This definitely isn’t going to pollute the water around the rift for hundreds of years to come.”

Nott rolls her eyes. “The water around it is already polluted,” she says. “What, you think the monster aliens are going to care about taking care of the planet?”

Caduceus shrugs. Yasha leans over to give his shoulder a conciliatory pat.

“We have predicted the next event to happen sometime early tomorrow, so you’re going to be deployed at around 3AM in order to get to the Breach in time. I suggest” – Caleb…hesitates. Yasha closes her eyes and leans her head against the back of the couch. Caleb clears his throat and continues. “I suggest you get your affairs in order.”

Beau snorts. “The only family I care about is sitting right here.”

Jester runs an anxious hand across her scalp. “I need to call my Mama.”

Yasha feels like she’s been sucker-punched in the gut.

There had been a time – long ago. So long ago. A lifetime and a world away, when Yasha had smiled and the sea hadn’t been full of blue slime: Zuala had wanted children, and Yasha had wanted Zuala to be happy more than anything.

She wonders what it would have been like if things had been different. If she and Zuala – if they had –

“C’mon, let’s head off,” Fjord says, gently taking Jester by the shoulders and leading her away. Beau slumps against the couch, exhaustion written into the slump of her spine. “We can call her together, okay? She loves hearing from you.”

The rest of the group watches them go in silence. Then Nila breaks away and hurries off, face tight and ashen. Keg watches her go and lets out a loud sigh.

“This is fucked,” she says. No one says: this is a suicide run, but no one needs to. It’s written clear as day in the childish chalk-lines of Nott’s son. Yasha doesn’t know if that makes it better or worse. She doesn’t think it makes things anything, really.

“We knew what we were getting into,” Beau snaps.

“Maybe you did,” Keg says. “I sure as fuck didn’t.”

“Now, now – no need to –” Shakaste starts to say.

“Calianna and Twiggy are dead,” Keg says. “And we’re about to be next.”

“We signed up for this,” Beau says, folding her arms across her chest and clenching down hard on her jaw.

Keg laughs. Yasha flinches away from the bitter sound, fingers balling to fists on her lap.

“Of course you would say that,” Keg says.

Beau’s eyes narrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, isn’t it obvious? You’d much rather go down in a blaze of glory than –”

Beau explodes off from the couch and grabs at Keg’s throat. Keg doesn’t flinch, the wide – slightly manic – grin stretched too-large across her small face.

“Shut it,” she says.

“We’re all as good as dead,” Keg says. “You’re just a little further along than the rest of us.”

“What the fuck,” Yasha says.

Beau doesn’t look away from Keg. “Ignore her. She’s talking bullshit.”

“Beauregard,” Shakaste sighs.

Beau abruptly breaks away from Keg, letting her back to the ground. Keg coughs in a breath. She’s shaking. They’re all shaking, Yasha realises. She’s so cold.

Beau turns on her heel and strides towards the door. On the way, she catches Yasha’s hand and drags her along.

“Come on,” she says. “Let’s get out of here.”

Yasha follows.

.

If Molly was good at anything, it was keeping secrets.

Yasha can’t tell a lie to save her life. There’s a blunt straightforwardness to her that doesn’t do well under subterfuge. If someone is telling an untruth, Yasha is the last person in the room to know.

Molly, though. Molly could say the sky was green with such conviction that people would believe him.

“Don’t listen to her,” Beau says, tugging her further down the hall. Her knuckles are white under the pressure that she’s putting into holding onto Yasha’s hand. Yasha follows, quietly, and thinks of what Molly would say.

In the end, she’s not good with ghosts anymore than she’s good with lies. She says, “Okay”, and doesn’t say anything else.

.

“Are you sure about this?” Caduceus says.

Yasha just looks at him.

Caduceus grins, wide and sharp in a way that Yasha would have never pegged for him. There’s something so unassuming about his tall, rail thin appearance; the pink hair is a distraction. Camouflage. Nobody cruel could ever have pink hair.

“I’m not going to let them die,” she says.

Caduceus laughs to himself. Yasha wonders if they’re made of the same kind of steel, or if she’s just wishing things were different. Would she do this with Molly? Or is Molly the one suggesting it?

“Okay,” he says. “Let’s do this.”

.

Stealing a Jaeger is – surprisingly easy, once Yasha realises Caduceus’s older sister has terrorised her workers into submission. She has yet to meet the elder Clay, and at this point she’s a little bit too terrified to say: “Hi! Nice to meet you! Sorry I’m about to kill your little brother!”

It probably wouldn’t even come out that coherently, either. Yasha has so many problems with words.

Walking in the Drift is always a challenge. Fighting is smooth – punching, slashing: all easy. It’s walking that always tripped (Yasha snorts to herself, much to Caduceus’ amusement) her and Molly up. Neither of them had been very grounded people. Learning to run had come before their baby steps had even been an afterthought.

With Caduceus, walking – there’s an eerie feel of weightlessness to it. Yasha has always felt too heavy for the ground to properly hold her. Left, right, left, right. The further out to sea they go, the further away from gravity Yasha feels. Paradoxically, the heavier the controls become. Yasha is used to taking all the weight, but Caduceus – Caduceus holds his own. Better than Molly in some aspects, certainly. As Caduceus had pointed out: Molly had been very thin, and very small. Not much muscle in the end of it.

In her head – in Caduceus’ head – in their head, Molly makes an amused sound of outrage.

“I’m not short,” he says. He doesn’t even bother to refute his slimness.

“You’re shorter than both of us,” Yasha says. Outside, water swells around the reinforced glass of the cockpit. Left, right, left right: walking onward and forward and away from everything. Yasha’s floaty feeling does not dissipate.

“You’re both giants,” Molly says. His voice echoes around the otherwise empty cockpit, Caduceus and Yasha both beginning to sweat in their harnesses. No matter how many times Yasha has done this, she always starts to sweat the moment the first plate of armour goes on. Caduceus murmurs a small sound of agreement from over on his side. Together, they’re riding the Drift.

Three hours later, the intercom crackles to life.

“Well,” Caduceus says serenely as he listens to the babble of expletives that is being rained down upon both of them. “It looks like they figured out what we did.”

“A little early,” Yasha says, frowning.

Inside of her skin, Caduceus forms her shoulders into a shrug. Clarabelle is scary, but the night before the last big push was bound to attract some attention. It could have been as simple as one of the pilots not being able to go to sleep and wandering into the hanger, lost and lonely.

Yasha doesn’t want to think about that. Caduceus is kind enough to drag the thought away and smother it.

Beau’s voice abruptly cuts off from the intercom, and then Shakaste’s smooth tone comes through. There isn’t a hint of nerves in it, no matter that enough nuclear weapons to raze a small country has just disappeared into the abyss. Clarabelle had very helpfully disabled their GPS coordinates, though it probably wasn’t too much of a guess as to where they were going.

“What do you think you two are doing?”

Caduceus answers for them, when Yasha’s tongue gets knotted at the back of her throat.

“Completing the mission,” he says. He grins, sharp. Yasha has loved so many sharp people. “Sir.”

“Half at once,” Shakaste says. “Wait for the other Jaegers to get there. You need to stick to the plan.”

Yasha wants to laugh, so Caduceus does that for her, too.

“We’ll be waiting at the Breach,” he says, and cuts off the coms.

The silence gouges deeply into the space between them. Yasha is breathing heavily, and she hasn’t even said a single word. Next to her, Molly is laughing, because Molly is a dick.

“Beau sounded mad,” Yasha eventually says.

“Just a bit,” Caduceus says.

“I’m never going to get to apologise.”

“Probably not, no.”

Yasha thinks about that. Left, right, left right.

“Oh, well,” she thinks. Molly pats her shoulder. Caduceus says nothing.

They keep walking.

.

[stillpartofthisworld]

and now you're drowning (and i'm surviving)-Critical Role

its on Ao3!

He tips her head up, putting his head to her chest (he's wanted to do this, sometimes, when the nights were dark and the dreams unrelenting but not like this, oh, not like this-) and listens for a heartbeat.

He can't find one.

A/N: This is my first CR fic! It’s been up for a while, just haven’t posted it here haha. Let me know what you think! The rest is under the cut!

Sometimes, Fjord dreams about drowning. There's no huge eye in these dreams, no push to fulfill a command, no view of Vandren or Sabien; he just drowns, plain and simple. He feels that initial splash into the frigid waves, the dark churning of bubbles as he twirls underwater. He feels his lungs start to twitch, the last of his oxygen being consumed and he breathes out, searching for those bubbles that would tickle his chin or nose to tell him which way was up. It never comes and he tries again, the last of his breath used in his desperate attempt to live. Nothing. And that's when the nightmare starts. It's a certain sort of hell, the water cold yet burning, filling his lungs as his body forces him to take a breath, only for them to convulse painfully as he tries to expel the water. He feels himself fading, too slowly for his taste as his lungs scream for air and only being met with brine and fire. His consciousness leaves him, the pressure of the tumultuous currents lessening as he tries to accept his fate, accept the fire burning in his chest as a temporary pain before an eternal slumber. He thinks he still dies with his eyes open. These are the dreams he manages to hide, no salt water spit up or vanished items to alert the party of his nightmares. Sometimes, though, he catches Caduceus looking his way before putting on a pot of chamomile tea "to calm some early morning nerves". Molly used to bring him whiskey, but tea does just fine. Even after his near death in the sea, Fjord doesn't find himself shying away from water. It's still his home, his old livelihood; dangers came in every environment, after all. Every sailor knows that they could drown at any moment. He finds himself missing more than ever the feeling of being out on open sea, of looking out and seeing blue, beautiful blue for miles, salty airs and cool breezes his only constants. It's funny how dying alleviated fears of death. So no, drowning himself didn't scare him. But someone else, someone he cared for, being subjected to the same fate? That sent chills down his spine. He finds himself constantly checking on the rest of the M9 as they played along the shoreline. Caleb, who stays afloat where he could see him; Caduceus, who swims in shallow waters, Nott and Beau, who stay mostly on the shoreline where the water just curls around their toes. He feels like he needs to protect them, and he knows that only half of that feeling stems from their routine of looking out for each other in the empire. (He doesn't want them to feel what he did.) He feels other things too, and most of them are because of Jester. Jester, who until just recently was unable to do anything but watch the sea from her window. Jester, who takes in the beauty and excitement of literally everything around her with such childlike wonder. Jester, whose attention is always shifting from the sea to the birds to her friends to him, and he passes off the th-thump he feels in his chest when they lock eyes as a wave startling him as they crash against the rocks. No, Fjord isn't afraid of drowning. But he's afraid of those he cares about being subjected to the same fate. So when he finds himself captaining a ship, responsible for the lives of every single person who's meant anything (everything, they're everything, she's everything-) to him in the past, he's feeling anxious, and rightfully so. But they're different. That's what he tells himself. They're capable. Caleb has his fire, Beau has her fists, Yasha has her sword, Caduceus has his magic, Nott has her crossbow- And Jester- Jester is in the arms of a harpy. It pulls her from the sail she’s mending, sharp talons digging into her arms painfully as she struggles to hold onto the mast. One harpy is down already, felled by Beau, and another two are speeding away due to whatever spell Caleb has cast on them. The other three are retreating, yes, but not without something as a prize; one has a deckhand firmly in its grasp, another eyeballing Nott; but no one minds them. They're all looking at Jester. (It's like his heart has stopped.) "Let go of her!" Beau, ever the agile one, runs up the mast and leaps, adrenaline an determination taking her farther than she was able to on Nicodranas. She catches onto the harpy's wing and it sags with her weight, dropping back to Earth for a split second before it caws sharply and snaps its' wing up, throwing Beau off and sending her plummeting 40 feet onto the deck. She pops back up immediately, full of splinters and anger before Fjord puts a hand on her shoulder, pushing her towards the stern. "Go help Caduceus and Yasha!" he nearly growls at her, and turns back to the harpy, summoning his falcon and pointing it straight at it. The eye looks at its target, and for a second Fjord swears he sees it narrow in delight before an Eldrich blast comes shooting out, careening towards the harpy’s back for a hit. Caleb and Nott fire, magic missiles and crossbow bolts a blur of light and metal as they smash into the harpy, which looks broken and bloodied even at this distance. Jester is trying to work her way free, unable to do much harm without touching the beast and so she casts Spiritual weapon, a huge lollipop appearing right above her and the harpy, who's gained considerable height and is starting to put distance between them and the ship. Fjord is still firing, ripping through his spell slots as he aims, fires, corrects, fires until he feels blood rushing to his head and nearly blacks out in exhaustion. He can still see Jester, who's managed to get an arm free and raises a hand to bring down the giant lollipop on the harpy's head, and he lifts the falcon one more time- The harpy pitches forward, then falls out of the sky. And for a brief millisecond, there's relief. And then Jester starts to fall. "Jester!" The M9 rush to the edge of the deck, watching the tiefling plummet 50 feet through the air, twisting and turning the whole way down before hitting the sea with a huge splash. They're freaked, out of their element and unsure of what to do and how to do it, and so they look back at Fjord for ideas. Except Fjord isn't there anymore. He's in the water, swimming at top speed (thank the gods for this armour) towards where he saw her go down. He takes a breath, a quick one, and dives. The sea is just as murky as the day he died. He pushes down, down, down, swimming deeper and deeper into it's icy depths. He doesn't know how long she's been under, and he doesn't want to think about it; she's not drowning, she's not drowning, she's not drowning . He finds a hand in the dark. He nearly recoils in surprise, but he latches on instead, pulling the hand towards him. A body collides with his, small and feminine, a dress swaying and catching his ankles in the current. He can't make out her face, but he knows it's her. He speeds up and out of the ocean, the universe seemingly at his side as his natural buoyancy propels him upward towards air. She drags behind him, limp in his grasp and right now all he can do is pray, pray to the gods and the Traveller and whatever he made a pact with to please let her be alive, please please please let her live, I'm begging you- He breaches the surface with a gasp. He props Jester up with his arms, turning her towards him. Her head is limp and it sags between them, resting on her chest as he sees the last of the saltwater drain from her mouth. He tips her head up, putting his head to her chest (he's wanted to do this, sometimes, when the nights were dark and the dreams unrelenting but not like this, oh, not like this-) and listens for a heartbeat. He can't find one. He feels a rush of something threatening to cascade over him but he clamps it down, unwilling to let his fears get in the way of what he has to do. First-get back on the boat. He half hugs, half tucks Jester into his side, cradling her head with a hand so she wouldn't go back under again (does it matter?) and swims, struggling to pull both their weight but managing it anyway, eyes trained on the slow growing ship no more than 40 ft away and closing. He sees his party members and some crew leaning over the side, watching him struggle towards them. Caleb turns and barks something at the deckhands, who both turn and run off,and he soon sees a rope being thrown over, along with a pinkish gray mass that lands with a splash. Caduceus reaches them in no time and Fjord pushes Jester into his arms without thinking (it strikes him how much he trusts Caduceus, no matter how hard it is to understand him.). "She's not responding," he explains as Caduceus slowly turns Jester around to face him, watching the firbolgs' eyebrows furrow as he presses his hand to her nose, her mouth, her throat. "I think she's un-" Fjord is interrupted by Caduceus placing a hand on his shoulder, sinking down a little in the water to look him in the eyes. "Get back on the ship," he says, and Fjord has never felt colder. They both swim to the rope, silently carrying Jester between the two of them. Fjord gestures for Caduceus to tie himself in but he shakes his head, grabbing the rope and fastening it to the half orc instead and placing Jester in his arms. He doesn't want to look down at her, doesn't want to see her blue lips tinged with purple and white, her eyelids slightly open and staring at nothing. He looks at her. He finds himself starting to shake. Caduceus tugs the rope and Fjord is lifted up and out of the water, rope digging into his back as they gain height (He can't even feel it, all he can look at is Jester, Jester, Jester-) until he sees the railing above him, sees the rest of his friends holding onto the other end of the rope and helping him go up and over and falling in a heap onto the deck with a groan, still managing to protect Jester by curling up around her (she still smells like sweets, mixed with salt and blood). He hears Beau yell out their names, feels her crouch beside him and slowly uncurls himself for her, letting her take Jester and place her on the deck. "Jes?" she whispers, leaning in close to feel her breath. (He doesn't have the strength or heart to tell her he tried.) "Jester, please. Don't trick us like this by holding your breath. It isn't funny...Jester?" She looks back at Fjord, looking for some reassurance from her fears but he's silent, staring at Jester's prone form and trying not to break. A shuffling of clothes. Caleb walks from behind Fjord's periphery and crouches beside Beau, looking down at Jester with an expression crossed between pain and affection that takes Fjord's breath away. He pushes the tieflings dark hair out of her face, leaning down and pressing her forehead to his own and whispering something in Zemnian before, in Common, "Sleep well, my little one." Nott is right there beside him, her little form shaking in little bursts as she puts on her porcelain mask to hide her face, even as Beau pulls both of them in for a hug. Yasha watches all of this in silence, but her silence speaks more than words as she opens her book, falling to her knees to place dried flowers around Jester's hair and face. (Another crack. Fjord doesn't know how long he'll last like this. He's failed them all.) Caduceus is the last to approach, still dripping wet. He makes a puddle on the deck where he stands, peering down at Jester's form like an inquisitive crow before shifting to look at all of them. "It might be rude to say so early but, I'm sorry for your loss," Caduceus begins, and Beau's head snarls up to face him. "Our loss? Bullshit. We know how much she means to you, too." Caduceus's facial expression flickers, just for a second, before settling into a determined look as he sets down his staff to shuffle through his knapsack. "She did. She does. And that's why," He pulls out long tube, the sides of it sporting moss and colorful fungi that comes off a little as he opens the container and pulls out a scroll. "we're going to get her back." "And how do you reckon we do that?" Fjords voice is hollow, his accent barely there as he finally shifts his attention from Jester to Caduceus. No one questions the change; whether it be due to not noticing or not caring, he has no clue. "My family...we ran a graveyard, yes, but if we could help those who had not yet fully crossed over come back...we would. Right now, the Mother has only blessed me with enough words to bring back someone within a minute, but my parents were able to help those who have been gone for much longer. They gave me this scroll before they left, and they said that I should use it when the time was right." "And you think now is the right time?" Caleb's voice is soft, questioning; they all know what other time he's referring to and it hits Fjord like a sledgehammer (blue is replaced with purple, clear water replaced with blood-but he's gone now, been gone for a while-) "The first time you asked for my help, your friend..." Caduceus pauses, looking for the right way to say too far gone, much too dead, miles away and six feet under- " was far away, and I wasn't exactly sure who I would be bringing back anyway. But this, this I can do." He stoops down, waiting for Beau and Yasha to let him pass as he goes and scoops up Jester into his arms and stands. "Let's get her somewhere warm." And he goes below deck. And they all follow. Caduceus  and Caleb spend the rest of the day preparing for the ritual. The firbolg has used up most of his magic during the fight, so attempting ooit now would just be a recipe for disaster , he tells them as Caleb moves Jester into a comfortable position on a cot in his tiny hut, cast to give them a semblance of privacy from the rest of the crew. Both the wizard and the warlock haven't really left Jester's side since she was brought back on board, Caleb being under the excuse of being unable to leave the hut, Fjord by being the captain and Jester's closest friend. Nott and Yasha called evening watch before the raid and stuck to it out of routine, neither of them coming back to switch shifts even when the sun goes down and the sky and sea melt into a singular inky darkness. Beau tries to keep spirits up, something that she is ill equipped to do but tries anyway, frequently reassuring anyone around her that Jester would be back, she would be revived and would probably tease everyone for having a crush on her while she was dead until Fjord can't take it anymore and asks her to relieve Nott of her post. When Nott comes down she sets her weapons down and curls up next to Caleb, who puts up an arm for her to snuggle in closer as he stares at a book. "Goodnight," she mutters, and for a second he expects to hear Jester's sleepy voice mumbling it back, but instead he hears Caleb, bending down to give the goblin a squeeze before slowly closing his eyes as well. Fjord stays where he is, across Jester's cot (corpse), and stares. He doesn't know when he starts to speak. "Jester?" He stops, coughs, starts again, dropping the accent. "Jester, can you hear me? Caduceus...he said something about your soul staying with your body for a bit? Like ghosty shit? Ack..." He rakes his hand through his hair, takes a breath, and looks at her. "I'm sorry." He's not sure who he's talking to at this point; himself, Jester or even the Traveler, a presence he's rarely felt but can only assume is here. His favorite cleric just died. "I'm sorry for letting this happen. And, I know what you would say, that it wasn't my fault, but it is my fault, Jes, I know it. I let us leave shore, and none of you were ready.I don't even know if half of you can swim all that well. I was in charge of all of your safety, and I failed." A lump in his throat threatens his next sentence with a crack, but he pushes it down forcefully. "I failed you. And that's not all I'm sorry for." In the dimness of the hull of a ship in the open sea, Fjord tells the corpse of his best friend everything. He talks about his childhood, his tusks and why he cut them, how he found his life and first family on the sea, how his near drowning affected him. He tells her how he recovered, what his plans were with the Academy, his thoughts and fears about Sabien, Vandren and the entity he might have unknowingly made a pact with. He talks about meeting her. How it changed him, made him see the joy and light in the smallest of things. He talks about the M9, Molly, being captured together (I'm sorry, I'm sorry) and how thankful he was when they were set free. How angry he was. He talks about how worried he was for her. How much he wanted to believe that she was fine, even though she wasn't. He talks about Nicodranas, about meeting her mother and fighting that genie in the sewers and acting out of panic seeing it come after her, how after that he truly started understanding how much she meant to him. He talks, and talks, and talks until his head feels heavier than his heart, and then he's silent, dozing off to the lull of the waves lapping at the ship. (And perhaps he hears a girl, far, far away, softly singing a song the Ruby had performed mere nights ago.) "Wake up, Fjord." The half-orc starts awake, bolting upright before becoming startlingly aware of his sore back and neck and groaning. Massaging his neck, he looks up and sees Beau, hair messy and looking like she barely slept a wink. "Beau? What is it?" He asks, his own thoughts hazy and unclear from sleep. "Its Caduceus. He's ready to do the ritual." He's awake after that. Both Fjord and Beau rush up to the deck. Both the skies and waters are clear, the ocean waves barely rocking the boat to give them the appearance of stillness. The rest of the Nein are already there, all paying attention to Caduceus, who was explaining how the ritual would work and what they could do. Fjord catches most of it, hears the words "offering" and "calling to the soul", but he's still distracted by the blue body in the middle of a chalk circle, surrounded by sigils and lichen, trying to calm his heart down. They were getting her back. The M9 step back as Caduceus walks around the circle a final time before standing in front of them all, pulling the scroll from his bag and lifting it up, and then begins to read. The Celestial that flows from his mouth is melodic and expressive, spell sounding like song as it echoes across the ship and open sea. The chalk lines surrounding Jester begin to slowly glow, pulsing brighter and brighter with every syllable before a bright green light is washing over them all, flaring with divine energy. Caduceus stops reciting, lowering the paper to look at all of them expectantly. "What do you contribute to this ritual?" Before Fjord can even react Caleb steps forward, glancing at Caduceus to make sure he was allowed to step into the ritual circle before walking over to Jester. "Hey there," he says softly, more tender than Fjord has ever heard him, "I wanted to give you something." He fishes for something in his coat for a second before pulling out a small rock, a dull grey save for a light stripe in the middle. "You see this rock?" His voice is quieter now, his face turned down and away from the group as he talks. "It might not look like much, but this is a real lucky rock. It's helped me in a lot of our, ah, fights with the baddies. I guess you could say it's kept me alive." He turns the rock over before placing it gently into Jester's cold, outstretched hands, getting her fingers to curl around the stone. "And now it will help keep you alive too." He leans down and kisses her forehead, brushing the hair from her face before stepping back. The stone pulses. A wave of magic, fiery and bright, spread a out in a singular orange wave, mixing with the green light and strengthening it as Caduceus intones with another verse. He looks back at the group again, and this time it's Nott that springs into action, scrambling forward to stand over Jester's body. "Hey Jessie," she says, crouching at Jester's torso to fiddle with her dress. "'Duceus said that we should offer things up that would strengthen the bonds between you and this world or something...I'm not too good with magic but I brought you these." She unloads her pockets, and trinkets of every type and size clatter to the ground. One by one she scoops them up, placing jewelry on hands and horns and tail, glittery things expertly tied onto her dress or into her hair. Fjord hears Caleb give out a little wheeze and sees the human looking at Nott in shock and fondness. "I know you like shiny things as much as I do, Jester," the goblin continues, placing the last bauble-a silver charm with a rhinestone in its center- into her hair. "and even though I like these things very much...I'd much rather have you here with us." Nott turns and scampers out of the circle towards Caleb, who immediately scoops her up into a hug, squeezing her as she wraps her arms around his neck. Beau and Yasha move over to them, the monk gently ruffling Nott's hair as Yasha says, quietly,"Good job, Nott. I'm sure Jester will be quite happy with her new look.", which only brings out a sniffle from the goblin. They've all changed so much since they've met. The circle is brighter now, light reflecting off the many shiny sides of Nott's offerings, scattering the rays like prisms, adding more colors to the divine light of the Wildmother. Caduceus keeps going, nearly at the end of his scroll by the looks of it, and he pauses to hold up one finger. One more offering. Fjord steps into the circle. He doesn't have anything to offer, but he does have his words, and those have been good enough to get him this far. He hopes it's enough here. He sits down next to Jester. She looks awfully small in death, the energy and joy that seemed to inflate her until she was larger than life itself sapped by the ocean He reaches out to her, cradles her head with both his hands before bringing it to rest on his lap. "Heya, Jes," he starts out, casual and soft, like they're alive and alone instead of dead, hurting, and surrounded by their family. "I know I-I told you a lot of things last night, didn't I? About my past and all. But I think...I think I should tell you about the future." He tells it to her as he envisions it; finding treasure on an island, presenting it to her mother so she wouldn't have to work anymore. Perhaps they'd sail the world; perhaps they'd stow the ship on another port and sneak away, eager to find another adventure on land. They would help Yasha with her quest, Caleb with his weird vendetta. They'd take her to see the Traveller, when it was summer. They would do so many things. "But for this to happen, you have to come back, Jessie," he murmurs, stroking her hair as he talks. "We can't do this without you. You're the cleric. You bring light to us all. You brought it to me, all those months ago. So please, please...come back to me." He looks up, and for a split second he feels someone looking down at him. "You're here, aren't you? Traveler." There's a part of him that feels foolish, calling out to the wind, but he keeps going. "You've seen how much Jester loves you. She follows you diligently, even when it could have gotten her locked up in the Empire. She brings joy to others, and I-I know she must bring joy to you. You're her oldest friend, so please...help us bring her back." Caduceus starts reciting again, louder and faster as the circle grows with a new vigor, green light turning bright blue in some places as magic begins to swirl towards Jester. The parchment in the firbolgs hands begin to burn and he lets go, but no one is really paying attention; they're watching Jester, whose body is lifted from Fjord's grasp by the magic gathering above her, limply hanging in midair as if lifted by a thread. Different lights swirl around the tiefling, bursts of red, green and blue that mingle and twist around each other until they become a singular white beam that diffuses into Jester, her body seizing in the moment as magic jump starts her muscles. The moment passes, and her body slowly lowers to the ground once more, her head settling back onto Fjord's lap as the magic fades, the chalk lines becoming inert once again. A second passes. Then ten, then thirty as the Mighty Nein waits for Jester to breathe. Fjord doesn't check for a pulse, too afraid to jostle her, as if her life was more fragile than air. He feels nothing, vision tunneling until he sees nothing but Jester, Jester, Jester, dead in his arms once more. It's all his fault. A minute. Caduceus walks over to them, stoic yet with shaking shoulders as he bends down next to Fjord. "I-I'm sorry, he whispers, placing his hands on Fjord's shoulders. "I thought it-" Jester coughs. Fjord nearly jumps back in shock but instead grabs onto her, pulling her up so her upper body was flush against his so she could cough and vomit out whatever sea water was still in her system. He pats her back, softly cooing "There you go, get it all out of ya," as she wheezes and spits, trying to ignore the squeezing in his chest as Jester looks back at him gratefully, a bit of vomit still trickling down her mouth as she croaks, "Thanks, Fjord." And then she's out of his arms and in Beau's as she comes and picks up the tiefling with a shout, twirling her around and hugging her tightly. Nott is there too, holding onto Jester's waist as much as she can. "You guys!" Jester laughs, hugging Beau back weakly, reaching down to ruffle Nott's hair as she takes in the affection. "Why are you so huggy today? I was only gone for five minutes. Fjord got me out, right?" She breaks away from the hug to turn to Fjord, only for her knees to give out under her. She falls to the floor in a heap, breathy and shaking as she tries to catch her breath. Fjord and Caleb are by her side immediately, both taking a side as they help her back to feet. "You need to rest, Jester," Caleb says, his own voice a bit shaky as she wraps an arm around his shoulder. "You've had quite a day." She sighs and nods, looking down at the floor before noticing the ties in her dress. "Oh! I have more jewelry on!" She swishes her dress and flicks her tail with muted delight, inspecting the new baubles. "Oh, Nott! Did you give these to me?" She lets go of Caleb to give Nott a one armed hug, still holding on to Fjord for support. "Thank you! But what's it for?" Nott opens her mouth to speak before glancing at Caleb, and Fjord takes this as his cue to say "Alright, Jess, time for you to sleep," and sweeps her up in his arms before she can say anything. She's cold, and he can feel her shivering. Still she manages to laugh and wrap her arms around his neck, teasing "Oh, Oskar! This is just like that once scene where-" "Yeah, okay, we're going now, take care of the ship while I'm below deck bye!" Fjord feels his cheeks warming as he strides of the deck and down the stairs, making his way into the captain's quarters. His arms are shaking with strain but he tries to ignore them, instead focusing on Jester, alive and shivering in his arms. He sets her down on the mattress, feeling her hands leave his neck as she curls up on herself, still shaking. He grabs the blanket, throwing it over her in an attempt to provide warmth. She takes it gratefully, muttering a small "thank you" as she wraps it around herself. He hums and sits down at the edge of the bed, warming her hands with one of his own, another hand stroking her hair quietly. A few minutes pass. She's still shivering, even though her hands are now warm in his own. "Jester, I'm gonna get some more blankets, alright?" He says, untangling a hand from her hair. "I'll be back." He gets up from the bed, only to find himself unable to move as blue hands reach out and grab his arm. "No!" He looks at her, sees her pale face suddenly turn a purplish hue as she turns away. "I'm not cold, Fjord. I'm just...just stay," she says, and he can't say no to her, has never been able to, so when she lifts up her blanket to let him slide under the covers he does so immediately. They both don't have any armour on, their legs knocking into each other as they settle in, making room for each other. It's awkward, at first; Fjord doesn't know what to say, not sure how to take that devastating look on her face away without crossing any boundaries, but Jester is already reaching for him tentatively. He leans into her, letting her wrap her arms around his neck as he pulls her in close, resting his chin on her forehead, letting an arm draw slow circles across her back to calm her down. Minutes pass. Jester's shaking has stopped, and she hasn't said a word so he assumes she's sleeping until she whispers something into his chest, so low that he strains to catch it. "I died yesterday, didn't I?" His breath catches. "I...wasn't sure if you would remember." It's an excuse, a hope they had all had that she wouldn't be traumatized by such an ordeal. She sighs against his chest and he pulls her closer on instinct. "I remember," she murmurs. "I remember all of it." His heart breaks for her. "Jester, I...I'm so sorry you had to go through that. If-If I had acted faster-" Jester stops him with a hush. "It's not your fault, Fjord. It's just...you went through it too, right? Without anyone?" He doesn't like to think back on those first nights, but he hums in the affirmative on top of her chin. "Must've been scary." "It-It was. But it's better, now. Easier when there's other people around. It'll get better." He feels her cheek against his chest as she nods a bit, leaning further into him. Silence takes over again, each of them lost in their thoughts yet grounded by each other. "So...what else do you remember?" Fjord asks, this time moving back so he could look at her face. She looks up at him with half lidded eyes and a small smile on her face, which only grows when she answers "Weeelllll....I remember everyone talking to me at the ritual...and I remember what you were saying last night." Shit. Fjord feels himself turn red. "I-I know I talked a lot, and, I know its sort of unfair to have only told you when you were, uh, dead, but I meant every word of it, Jester. You've changed me a lot, for the better, and you...you mean a lot to me. Like, a lot, a lot? And, fuck, I'm not sure how to explain-" "Do you like me, Fjord?" "I-" He pauses, takes a breath, and sighs, nodding. "Y-yeah. I think I like you, Jes. I think I like you a lot." She moves away from him suddenly, and for a second he thinks he's said the wrong thing at the wrong time and he moves to give her space to leave him, trying to think of what to say to diffuse the situation so he doesn't lose his best friend but in a second she's close again, this time pressing her forehead against his so that their noses brush past each other. "Good," she breathes. "Because I like you too, Fjord." His hands reach up, caressing her jawline as he closes the minuscule gap between them to brush his lips across her own once, twice before the brush becomes a firm press as she wraps her arms around his neck. They only break apart to breathe, both of them giggling as they gasp for air. They lock eyes again, and he can now see the furious blush that darkens the tieflings' face, and he can only imagine how his cheeks are. They find themselves kissing for a while, softly and slowly, drunk on relief and happiness. He feels Jester get weaker, her movements more sluggish as the events of the day truly start catching up to her. He moves up, pressing kisses on her cheeks, her drooping eyes, her forehead before pulling her close again. "Goodnight Jester," he says, and he feels her relax once more against him as she mumbles something into his chest before falling asleep in his arms. He doesn't dream of drowning this night.

[widaugast]

            PERCEPTION CHECK: 21  ----  @sapphiretrickster!

        He should be asleep, really.  It's  ----  it's been a long road that has led them this far, right back to where they began.  The journey to Trostenwald is largely as they remember it, yet the group that has returned has been marked  (irreversably changed)  since they last entered, kissed by unfortunate circumstances and unlikely meetings, dealings with criminals and surprising reuniting.  There is a death that weighs new on their shoulders, a gravity of passing time that Caleb recognizes.  It's bittersweet, now, their brief return to the city where they all met, and it surprised him that it feels so  ----  this attachment to a place, though fleeting in its own way, is strange.  For a man who has spent so much of recent years running, so many before unaware of place, unaware of time, to be so present in both now is...  different.

        It's not unlike Caleb to be lost to thought, to be uncomfortably familiar with the workings of his own mind, yet this quiet contemplation is something new  ----  something like turning the dodecahedron over in his palms, finding a quiet fragment of possibility in its delicately contained expanse.  It's perhaps also this awareness of time (and its passage) that brings to mind the conversation with Beauregard and Fjord before they had left Zadash, the dance with which Jester had faced their night in the Evening Nip, the happiness that Caleb had felt so sure was something other than it appeared.  She had seemed, at least on first glance, to be everything he'd seen as they first had met  ----  eager and energetic, bold and very much assured  ----  but he's not so sure now.  What certainty had been pushed under the rug then, that it was an act, comes again to the surface of his mind, bumps gently into the back of his memory and lodges itself firmly into the present.

        He should be asleep, but Caleb rises anyway  ----  breaking the quiet of the protective magical bubble with a soft stirring.  Sure enough, out of the order of sleeping bodies piled within is the absence of Jester.  Picking his way over the sleeping form of Nott, curled up none too far away with her new cloak wrapped around her, the wall of protective energy softly nudges against Caleb's body as he steps through it, falling as he steps away.  It makes him wary, but the silver thread of the alarm spell still rests within eyeshot, and the ritual can be replaced.  Outside, framed in the full-moon night, is Jester, sketchbook balanced on her knees.  Unsure what to do at first, Caleb pauses, certain she can hear him against the quiet.  A gentle snap of his fingers and he sends Frumpkin out first, familiar padding out to the tiefling to sniff his nose against the book's edge.

[thepetulantpen]

Modern AU/Giving

(Day 2 of @widomauk-week , slowly catching up!)

When a purple tiefling, with what appears to be a bowling alley carpet draped over him like a shawl, sets down a rainbow picnic blanket next to Caleb and proceeds to spread out tarot cards, it’s not even the weirdest thing he’s seen today.

Honestly, the streets of Zadash have an abundance of strange people walking down them and an even stranger population living on them. The homeless, the criminals, the drifters- they all have their place on the streets and every one of them is weirder than the next.

The stranger finishes setting out his cardboard sign (proclaiming that it’s $10 for a reading) and various other cheap, vaguely supernatural trinkets then looks up at Caleb.

“This street any good for business?”

He’s about to default to “I don’t know”, which would be sensible and at least half true but he hears Nott’s voice in his ear, nagging him about making friends. He supposes he could at least try, for her sake.

“Ja, uh, there’s a corporate building that way,” he tilts his head to their right, down the street, “so there’s usually a healthy commute. From my experience, the people here are...rather gullible.”

Caleb knows that he can’t really be incriminated on those vague words alone- this stranger couldn’t possibly guess all the cons he and Nott have been running on this street- but it still makes him nervous to share any details at all. There are eyes everywhere in Zadash and Caleb can’t ever be sure he’s safe, even hidden on the streets.

The tiefling either doesn’t notice or isn’t bothered by Caleb’s silent distress and offers a broad smile.

“Thanks! I’m Molly, by the way.” He holds out a deep lavender, tattooed hand with pointed nails.

Caleb takes it in his own, somewhat grimy, hand and shakes, formal and brief. “Caleb. Caleb Widogast.”

Molly smiles wider, teeth sharp and more shiny than any street-side psychic should have.

“I’m sure I’ll see you around a lot, Mr. Widogast.”

...

Molly certainly delivers on that prediction, showing up to the same street corner almost everyday. They see each other frequently enough that Nott has taken to stealing buttons to add to his coat and Caleb has started to help out in his little future telling scam.

Of course, Molly doesn’t admit its a scam, only ever spouting in-character bullshit about how the stars really can guide us, but he does accept Caleb’s help in drawing people in and figuring out just enough information to earn a tip. Nott takes the role of pickpocket, borrowing customers’ wallets to dig for clues that Molly can use while Caleb keeps them distracted.

It’s pretty effective, they make an excellent team, but he knows their time together is limited. Caleb can’t stay on this street corner attracting attention for so long. It’s time to move.

“Molly?”

Molly hums to indicate he’s listening, but doesn’t look up at Caleb, too busy setting up for the day. Caleb clears his throat, waiting for a few painful seconds before Molly meets his eyes, eyebrows raised.

“Yes, Mr. Widogast?”

“Uh,” Caleb doesn’t know why he’s nervous, or why he’s even decided to tell Molly this, “I just wanted to let you know that me and Nott are going to move streets.”

“Oh,” Molly pauses, thinking for a moment and then, “What street?”

Caleb fidgets, choking on his words as his mind drowns in the red of Molly’s eyes. Before he gets a chance to answer, Molly looks away, frowning.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude if I’m not invited.”

Caleb blinks, replays the words and, once he understands what Molly is saying, holds up his hands.

“No, no, of course you’re invited. I just didn’t think you’d want to move, is all.”

Molly moves from his rug onto Caleb’s ratty blanket and puts his hands on Caleb’s shoulders, leaning in so his forehead rests against Caleb’s. His eyes are so much more intense up close, where the red seems to take up his entire field of vision. Caleb swallows, anxious and unable to move, although he’s not sure he even wants to.

Molly grins, shattering the tension with the edge of his fangs. The midday (exactly 12:33) light reflects across his canines, horn piercings and hair jewelry, forming Molly’s personal disco ball.

“My street is wherever your street is, Mr. Widogast.”

...

It turns out that Caleb’s street has no protection from the rain whatsoever.

Caleb stares up at the angry, storm-torn sky, drinking in what he perceives as a sort of karmic punishment from the universe. He does what he can to shield Nott, but there’s little he can do for her with no welcoming shelter in sight. She’s already drenched and shaking with resurfaced memories of rushing water, only adding to Caleb’s guilt.

He shouldn’t have moved streets, shouldn’t have let his damn paranoia take away their shelter. He shouldn’t have let Nott get this close, should’ve convinced her to leave Caleb, and the dangers associated with him, behind long ago.

He shifts, another series of apologies on his lips, but doesn’t manage it before a colorful shape breaks through the grey mass of water all around them.

“I thought I’d find you here!”

Molly smiles as if they aren’t caught in a near flood, as if this is just another day of sunshine and bright conversation.

Caleb notices he doesn’t carry any of his normal supplies, only that heavy coat on his shoulders.

“Don’t you have anywhere to stay, in this rain?” A frown crosses Molly’s face, concern an unfamiliar expression on him.

“No,” rain gets caught in Caleb’s eyelashes as he looks up at Molly, “We live out here.”

Lightning cracks overhead and Molly has to shout over the renewed rumbling of the storm. “Would you like a roof to ride out the storm under?”

Caleb hesitates, wary of overly kind offers, but Nott detaches herself from his side and pulls on his hand to make him stand.

“Yes, please!”

...

Yasha’s home is a lovely, if cramped, little place. It sits sandwiched between two larger buildings, looking as if it was added as an afterthought to fill space.

Caleb has no idea how two people can live here, let alone how they will manage four, but he is grateful to be dry and warm.

For now, Caleb and Molly have been left to their own devices at the tiny table shoved in the corner of the kitchen, drinking cheap tea and staring at the rain hitting the window.

“So, uh,” Caleb’s eyes dart down as Molly’s suddenly turn their full force on him, “this is where you live?”

“Yes, it’s near the florist, where Yasha works, and it’s cheap so I can cover my half of the rent telling fortunes.”

Caleb nods, glancing around at the tiny living room beside them and the stairs at the end of the hall leading to the two bedrooms. It’s better than the streets, certainly.

“Thank you, for lending us a room. If there’s anything I can do to repay you-“

“That won’t be necessary. Although,” Molly smirks, an idea visibly lighting up behind his eyes, “I have been in need of someone to hang out with lately. There’s this bar that just opened down the street and it’s always more fun to drink with... friends, I suppose.”

Noticing Caleb’s blush, he tacks on, “Or more than that, if you’re up for it.”

Caleb sips his tea, using it as an excuse to close his eyes briefly, trying to sort out his thoughts and block out Molly’s stare even as he can feel it piercing through the darkness.

There’s a swirl of thoughts, questions and calculations making a dizzying, multicolored pattern against his eyelids and then it all cuts out abruptly, replaced with the simple memory of Molly’s carefree smile.

Maybe it’s time for him to let go. For just an evening.

Surely it couldn’t be that bad.

“Ja, I think I’d like that.”

Molly smiles, delighted, and Caleb can’t help but return the grin, letting go of his spiraling thoughts for the first time in months.

“It’s a date!”

[loquaciousquark]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E42 (November 20, 2018)

Dani was actually goofing around quite a bit here, but this still makes me think of some glorious 90s band, so I’m keeping it.

Anyway! The inimitable @eponymous-rose has done more than her share of recaps lately, so here I am picking up where I’ve been slacking off. Tonight’s guests are Marisha Ray and Laura Bailey (with special guest appearance from Ronin! Awwww), so I can hardly wait. We’re discussing Episode 42: A Hole in the Plan.

Tonight’s announcements: Brian is bursting with an announcement he’s not allowed to reveal for another six months. His favorite guess: something about him stealing all the money from the company and moving to an island, but that’s actually his long game, not the short one.

Throughout November, they’re raising money for Operation Supply Drop, Travis’s favorite charity, which supports both active and retired military.

No episode of Critical Role this week due to Thanksgiving. There will also be no episode of Talks Machina next Tuesday; instead, they’ll be airing Sam’s Fireside Chat! This was a reward from the Critter donations to the Pablove Foundation.

Critical Role hoodies are back in the store; the print is very similar to the original with a bit more embellishment on the text on the back.

“Honey Heist 3: Tova’s Honies” airs this Friday at 7pm Pacific! Marisha: “It was bear-nanas.” Laura: “Oh, no.”

CR Stats: Jester has cast Blessing of the Trickster 31 times; 15 of those times were on Nott. Jester technically won her bar brawl with Sorris! She dealt 16 points of damage to his 15. Beau continues to have the most natural 20s with 49. She also has the most natural 1s, womp womp. Marisha: “Well, I roll a lot, you know?” Brian: “Well, your husband is also a tyrant and not to be messed with.” Marisha says she thinks Gil’s die is cursed and everyone gasps. How dare.

Does Brian feel the pressure of following Dani, who was such an excellent host last week? No; when he went through the potential list of fill-ins, the only one that made sense was Dani.

Marisha sees Darktow as a super-abusive socialist society, which does not sit well with Beau. It’s a silk trap.

Jester’s conversation with Caleb was triggered by Fjord’s kiss, especially with her wondering if it really meant anything to either of them. Laura thinks of her high school crushes and how hard you crushed & how devastated you were at every perceived slight; Jester only has the view of romance through her mother, which means physical affection is very different from emotional affection in her mind. On Brian’s asking, Laura’s high school crush was Han Solo. When Laura’s sister was 12, she paid her $15 to paint Han and Leia in a dip kiss, which she still has framed in her current house. I’m dying, this is adorable.

Beau doesn’t exactly trust that Fjord is going to do the right thing, but him sleeping with Avantika doesn’t trigger her red flags in terms of “looking out for each other, keeping each other in check.” She’s looking more for them bullying someone when they don’t need to, being violent when it’s not necessary. “Pursuing power to endless depths and fucking hot pirates, that’s fine with Beau. She just doesn’t want to kill children.” Brian marvels at how this fits into Jester & Caleb’s conversation about killing people from the most recent episode.

Jester can tell Caleb is tortured, and more than anything she wants people not to be sad around her. She just wants desperately for him to be happy.

Marisha has thought a ton about what Beau would have said if Jester had come to her first about the kiss, especially since it was Jester’s first kiss (Marisha assumes, and Jester answers in an adorably non-committal not-not-a-negative). Beau would have been game for it. She doesn’t know if Beau would have given good advice, but she would have tried her best.

Brian spills that Mary’s character’s CHA in their home game is 6. They discuss Nott’s score of 5 and enjoy themselves mightily at both of their expenses.

GIF of the Week! By @ropadoper, it’s Liam casting Reduce and then the Wall of Fire at the end of the episode, both of which involve Marisha falling out of her chair to the floor in reaction so that only her forehead is visible. Everyone is being so cute this episode I can hardly stand it.

As a reminder, an international shipping facility has been created in the UK. Laura asides to tell Travis the keys are in the diaper bag. Literally everyone is in the studio tonight except Sam, EVEN ASHLEY.

Jester thinks the Traveler always gives very good advice, but his suggestion to trick Fjord was the first time ever she felt a little hesitation to follow his advice. Brian: “Is that because he’s never been wrong or because she’s never been allowed to disagree?” Laura says it’s always been amazing advice so far, much more a best-friend relationship, but this was the first time she didn’t want to take his suggestion wholesale because she wasn’t sure it’s how she wanted to get Fjord to like her. Marisha really likes the dynamic of finding out your childhood best friend is a god.

Beau finds herself still being careful with her walls--Marisha imagines Beau was put in a lot of, like, pageant dresses as a kid--so when Jester commented on her hair and then laughed, she felt a little of that “wait, what, do you actually care? Do I look like shit?” Laura says she laughed, not Jester, because it was the most random thing to compliment Beau on.

Beau’s haircut came into being because it was cool & because Marisha wishes she were brave enough to try an undercut.

Brian’s convinced Fjord’s got gills. Dani: “What do you think Fjord is?” Brian: “Obviously a water man. Water genasi. What are water genasi?”

Beau wasn’t surprised Allison rejected her; she’s used to it. Ack. She was looking for an ally against Avantika, Big Brother style. “Instead she just shat in an alleyway with Nott.”

Laura’s not perturbed the Traveler hasn’t mentioned Fjord’s god; he doesn’t really talk about/care about other gods or patrons. Brian suggests he’s actually the Dongfather in disguise. This show’s collective mental age is smaller than Pike, haha. 

Beau felt like such an interloper when Sam asked her to help with Fluffernutter, like the best friend trying to be in on a joke without really knowing what’s going on. Marisha also takes a moment to praise Laura for her Jester over the last few episodes; she’s digging into the metaphorical popcorn every time Jester & Nott start going off. (Me too, bud.) Jester’s description of the insect carrying a piece of bread is one of her favorite D&D moments ever. Both Marisha & Laura are agog at how many little plans they’ve tried have gone disastrous and then circled back around to being mostly okay again.

Beau was a little hurt when she wasn’t asked to help break into the captain’s quarters, since that’s her specialty, but it was eased by being able to help with her knowledge anyway. However, she knew since she didn’t have any magic, she had no escape plan aside from jumping off the boat. She laughs that that’s what they ended up doing anyway. 

Jester views sex as a transaction, which is why she’s not particularly bothered by Fjord sleeping with Avantika.

Fanart of the Week: @jdillustrates, with a lovely portrait of Caduceus.

Jester’s warring between the logical part of her brain (he was saving her life) and the romantic part of her brain (did he want to kiss me, though?).

There are reasons Beau learned Deep Speech--not as complicated as most people think--that will be revealed eventually. “Nerdy reasons, not because she was kidnapped and turned into a cultist.”

Fjord/Avantika does make her jealous, but it’s also serving a purpose. Laura compares it to telling the high school crush to go hang out with a best friend, only to have them start dating.

Marisha doesn’t feel like Beau’s plans were overly shot down this episode--it’s something she hadn’t even noticed until this question. Marisha feels like it’s so much of a group effort with everyone trying to get to the right plan that it’s hard to pick out who contributed what part of which plan.

Brief interlude to examine a portrait of Brian that looks like George Michael.

In re: the Molly disguise: Beau felt like there was just a wall of regret walking towards her, because it was the friend she let die and the one-night stand. Beau never felt it was actually Molly, though. Jester picked Molly because when Nott said “Keg,” she instantly associated it with “someone who is really cool--who’s also super cool?” Everyone commiserates over how into the night’s shenanigans Molly would have been.

Beau was frustrated while being detained, but she also knew it was going to happen, so it wasn’t a huge issue. She felt like that was where the challenge began for her--anything to get the guard away from what was going on. 

Another brief interlude where everyone experiments with how to make power vaginas with their hands. “This is the car salesman power vagina.” I feel like wherever the rails are for this show, they’re so far gone they might as well be little stars in the sky.

Laura thinks Jester’s reaction to Caleb’s backstory would be much different than Caleb imagines it. Both Laura & Marisha talk about how Caleb’s convinced the moment people realize, they’re gone; there’s also the complication that Beau’s “comforting” is not actually that comforting. “She’d say, ‘you know, they won’t care,’” (which Marisha points out, Caleb would respond--how could someone not care about this?) when what she means is, “They love you and won’t abandon you over this.”

Laura and Marisha are both pumped about Caleb’s Wall of Fire--the walk to the dock was like “getting called to the principal’s office, except the principal is going to kill you.” Laura’s immediate reaction was regret she’d tossed the gems, but she loved his decision since she was panicking IRL & her heart was legit pounding. They also both get super enthusiastic bashing Nott’s plan to dump the haversack in an alley. “It’s bright pink! Someone would have definitely seen it!”

Marisha really misses Professor Thaddeus, but is convinced she’ll never see him again. Dani: “He’s your Nymeria, your Arya.” Marisha, tearfully: “He’s gonna come with his flock of owls and gouge out everyone’s eyes but ours.”

Laura’s convinced Sprinkle is magic, since he definitely should be dead twice over.

Quebec is for Lovers: After Dark edition

Neither Laura nor Marisha are cooking this year. Laura & Travis have no Thanksgiving plans at all this year. My gosh, if they were here my parents would be stuffing them full of turkey yesterday, even though they have no idea who they are.

Brian teases Max over messing with Trinket & carrying him back and forth in his car. Dani wants one TM where Brian isn’t mean to Max. Max, offscreen: “I’m FINE. I’m GOOD.” Marisha laughs that Max was okay with Brian’s teasing but shooting daggers at the TDs laughing.

Brian gives Dani an A for amazing and adorable, but not asshole.

Dani ships Percy/Vex, Keyleth/Vax, and Fjord/Jester. Close after is Kima/Allura & Caleb/Jester. She would be surprised if it happened, but wouldn’t object. Marisha asks, as a shipper, what does Dani look for in a quality ship. Dani likes clear feelings with clear reciprocation, canon connections; she doesn’t ship a ton of subtexty stuff.

Laura has been relistening to Vex’s playlists & crying. Both she & Marisha really miss Vex & Keyleth. Liam texted Laura the other day a fanvid of Vex & Vax that made her cry.

Marisha gets emotional seeing fanart of older Keyleth because it means that she’s living on & being happy. Noelle also came up & thanked Marisha for giving Tova a purpose after the latest Honey Heist, and everyone talks about how many hours they’ve spent creating and living in these people.

Marisha can’t listen to Tokyo Sunrise by LP anymore because it instantly makes her cry.

Beau is not a mindflayer. Everyone’s convinced, Marisha.

If Laura had Jester’s paint set, she’d draw home improvements. She’d draw a door for her bathroom into Ronin’s nursery. Marisha would draw more producers--”Not to undermine the ones I have! We’re so overworked!”

Brian looks to Max for the time left, only to have missed Dani literally just giving him the signal.

Brian starts to say he’ll see us next week, but Dani tells him not to confuse us since there’s no TM next week. Brian: “We’ll see you next week this Thursday Critical Role on youtube.com, Logan Paul guest starring, along with Paul Rudd, Rudney Dangerfield...”

Max, as the sound fades: “Okay, please...”

And that’s it for tonight. See you next time, everyone!