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sockablock · 7 years ago

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Something New for Me and You

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Chapter 3: Winter Air in the Library

Today 3:27 AM

Molly Tealeaf: hey there! Molly Tealeaf: i got your number from the movie chat haha Molly Tealeaf: i just wanted to let you know how much fun I had tonight! Molly Tealeaf: you have an excellent singing voice Molly Tealeaf: and we should absolutely do this again ‘(~˘▾˘)’~ Molly Tealeaf: and maybe im being forward but if you ever want to talk about what happened w the electricity? Molly Tealeaf: also I still need to give you that jacket back, don’t i Molly Tealeaf: anyhow you’re probably asleep now so i’ll talk to you later Molly Tealeaf: good night mister caleb!

•

“My sneakers are still fine,” said Nott as Caleb chewed the end of his expo marker and drummed his fingers against the tabletop. “You can cross that one off the list.”

“Are you certain?” he pressed. “They are looking rather tattered, and if I sell the clothes Jester got me then we should be—”

“No way,” Nott frowned, shaking her head. “That was a present! You can’t sell it, what if she asks to see them? Or what if you need to go on another fancy date?”

Caleb scoffed. “I do not think I will be doing that anytime soon,” and then his expression softened. “But you are right. That would be rude to Jester. Fine,” he sighed, and drew a line through ‘new sneakers’ on the whiteboard. “We can see if there is enough money next month.”

“Hey, hey, what about the rings I stole, though?” Nott asked. “Maybe they’ll be worth something this time. Or, if we really need to, we can try running some cons.”

Caleb nodded slowly. “We can go see how the rings sell later, when Bibelots is open. As for trying old tricks, that might have to be a plan C, or even D. I do not really want any undue attention from the law. Better to steal from the shadows.”

She shrugged, and reached across the table to pull Frumpkin into her lap. “Whatever you say, Caleb.”

“Okay,” he said, and scribbled a final number at the bottom of the board. “This should work. If we are careful, in a month, we will have enough electricity to use the television and charge our belongings at home, for sure.”

“Really?” she asked, face brightening. “That’s great! Then we can host movie night, when it’s our turn!”

His triumphant expression turned slightly sheepish. “Yes, spatz, then we can. I take it you know what happened, last night?”

“Yep. I did want to check the TV to make sure, first, but I would’ve said something if Molly hadn’t interrupted—”

Caleb quickly shook his head. “Nein, no, I am…glad that you did not.”

She frowned. “How come?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, er,” he said, “I do not want the others to know that we are struggling, financially.”

“What? Why not?”

He felt wretched as he sighed and said, “I don’t want them to think down on us. We are poor, and they are not. Well, at least we know that Jester and Beau are not—”

“Their apartment was crazy.”

“—and if the Moondrop has such a reputation, I am sure that Fjord and Molly and Yasha are not either. But…but we are, and I am worried that if they found out, they would not want to spend time with us anymore.”

Nott was quiet for a moment. Then she blinked her huge yellow eyes and asked, “Is that why you worked so hard to clean up before, when they came over yesterday?”

He nodded miserably.

There were a few more beats of silence as Nott considered this. Then she nodded firmly and pressed a finger to her lips. “Alright then, Caleb. I won’t say anything. Goblin’s promise. Well, that doesn’t really mean much, I guess. Nott’s promise,” she amended with a faint grin.

He returned the smile and leaned over to ruffle her hair. “Thank you, Nott. I am glad you understand. And hopefully, if nothing goes wrong, we should be fine financially and will not have to worry too much next month.”

She grinned. “Great! And then maybe you could start using your phone too, and you can talk to that purple guy.”

“Maybe,” he muttered, and then stood up and reached for his satchel. “For now, though, we have other things to focus on. Like how it is almost time for work. Are you coming along, today?”

She shook her head. “I’m going to hang around the square and see if I can…help our money problems a bit more.”

“Alright,” he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder, “be safe. Stay hidden—”

“—and stay alert, yeah, yeah, I know. I’m a professional, remember?”

He chuckled. “How could I forget?”

She gave him a short, poorly-executed salute. “See you later, Caleb! Have fun at the library.”

He shrugged his old coat on, did the buttons up, and wrapped his scarf tightly around his neck. “See you later, spatz. Have fun in the Square. Come on, Frumpkin.”

And then, after the orange tabby slipped into the hall, he shut the door and headed off to work.

•

Today 10:26PM

Molly Tealeaf: good morning mister caleb! Molly Tealeaf: i hope you slept well, sorry about all those texts last night! Molly Tealeaf: i must’ve had a bit more to drink than i thought Molly Tealeaf: anyways, I just wanted to see if you were free anytime this weekend? Molly Tealeaf: there’s a lovely little coffee shop ive just been dying to try Molly Tealeaf: i think you’d like it

Today 12:14PM

Molly Tealeaf: so if that sounds good, shoot me a text? Molly Tealeaf: ive got a flexible schedule any time before 6 dear

Molly slipped his phone back into his pocket and sagged in the barstool until his forehead hit the countertop. Yasha pulled a cup down from the back shelf and poured him a glass of water.

“I don’t see why I needed to come in so early,” he mumbled, words muffled. “It’s not like I need to practice, really.”

“That’s not a good attitude,” Yasha chided, and slid the drink over. “Gustav made it clear that the 25th anniversary event was important to him, and there are only three days left.”

Molly sighed, and reached blindly for the glass. When his fingers finally made contact, he lifted his head, took a sip, and frowned.

“This isn’t vodka, dear.”

She nodded. “It’s water. It’s noon. You’re hungover.”

Molly scoffed, but took another sip. “I am not hungover,” he protested. “Beau was the only one who got that shitfaced last night.”

“That may be true,” Yasha agreed, “but you are still not in top shape. Desmond did not call a break because he was tired of playing, that is for sure. And the others can tell there is something on your mind. Me included.”

Molly shrugged. “Maybe there is, dear. Or, maybe, I’m just having a bad day.”

“You?” Yasha raised an eyebrow. “I did not know that was possible.”

Molly his tongue out at her. “It happens to the best of us. I would know, because I’m the best of us.”

Yasha sighed. “Is this about Caleb? Is that what this is?”

Molly had a brief flashback to staring at his phone screen at four in the morning, waiting to see if the other man would respond. He shook his head.

“Absolutely not. Not at all.”

Yasha, bless her heart, seemed convinced. “Is it your...abilities? Are they acting up again?”

Molly shook his head much faster this time. “No, no. It’s…it’s really nothing. I promise, I’m in tip-top shape—”

“Good!” grinned Bosun as his large green hand suddenly clapped Molly on the back. The half-orc leaned against the corner of the bar and beamed. “Break’s over now, friend. We’re going again from Toya’s solo. Sound good?”

Molly shot him a cheerful smile. “Sounds wonderful.”

And as they both stood up and walked past, Yasha gave Molly a meaningful, furrowed brow that conveyed just how much she didn’t believe him. He shrugged sheepishly, and followed Bosun back towards the stage with the twirl of an imaginary coat.

•

Nott slipped into a back-alley just on the fringes of the Pentamarket Square, and took a quick swig from her flask. There were plenty of folks out today, morning commuters and shoppers getting a head start on Winter’s Crest gifts. She rubbed her fingers together, and murmured a few quick arcane commands. A small, shimmering hand appeared before her, and then promptly turned invisible. She beamed, and then scaled the dumpster and pulled herself onto a nearby fire escape.

•

Caleb had his nose buried deep between the covers of a particularly promising summary of the history of magical breakthroughs in the Pre-Divergence Era, and almost didn’t notice when Jester dropped her heavy pink bookbag onto the floor and cheerfully plopped her elbows onto the counter, leaning her face annoyingly close to his. He didn’t even blink when she started singing his name and flicking the little metal bell in front of him, and he ignored her as she started insulting him and cursing out his cat, and didn’t even move until she clapped her hands together, muttered the incantation for Thaumaturgy, and made all the doors and windows slam open with a shuddering blast of hellish energy.

Chilly winter air flooded into the library. He looked up, met the raised eyebrow of Jester, and blinked.

“Oh. Good morning, Jester.”

She rolled her eyes, and draped her arms over the counter to try and smack the book out of Caleb’s hands. He pulled away in time, so she rolled onto her back and her upside-down face beamed at him without any hint of annoyance.

“It’s the afternoon, dummy,” she teased. “I finished my classes. I’m here to be tutored.”

Caleb blinked again, and shook his head slightly. “Scheiss, it is already two-thirty?”

She nodded, and flicked him in the nose. “Ah, I knew you were in there somewhere. I sent you like thirty texts, Caleb.”

He gave her an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, Jester. But you know I do not use my phone.”

She pouted, and shook her head. “Why not though, Caleb! It makes life sooo much easier, what’s even the point of having one if you don’t use it?”

“In case I am going somewhere dangerous, and I need to keep in contact with you all.”

Jester giggled. “Why would you be going somewhere dangerous, silly?” And before he could answer she held up her own phone and waved it around in the air. “Besides, I’m not offended, but how will you be able to talk to Molly now? How are you guys going to coordinate your dates?”

Caleb scowled, but mostly out of embarrassment. “Jester, we are barely friends. We aren’t going on dates. If he needs me, he can always contact Nott.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Does he know that? You guys are ‘barely friends,’ like you said. Does he know about the goblin messenger pigeon system you’ve got going on?”

Caleb opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He paused.

“Oh,” he said. “Er...I suppose not.”

Jester huffed dramatically, and tapped him lightly on the arm. “I’ll let Molly know,” she said magnanimously. “In the meantime! I need math help.” She leaned down and rummaged around in her bag until she pulled out a red binder, which she passed to Caleb. “I don’t know what the fuck a vector is,” she said, “but I need to by tomorrow.”

He sighed, and put his book down. “Alright, alright. I’m still technically on shift, though, so pull a chair up here. I can’t leave the front desk.”

As Jester retreated to the copy room—makeshift staff lounge—to fetch a stool, Caleb started rifling through her math notes. They were quite neat, though the margins were completely filled with various doodles, some sketches of her surroundings, and many caricatures of her teachers and fellow students. There were also quite a number of scrawled comments and arrows pointing to various drawings. He sighed again.

“Jester, are you using your math notes to talk to the Traveler?”

There was a pause, and then a thud, and then the sound of Jester harrumphing.

“So what if I am?” she called from the back. “So what? I’ve got to talk to him at some point, and numbers are soooo boring. It’s the only way I’ll even stay awake in class, Caleb.”

He rubbed at his eyes. “I understand that, spassvogel, but have you considered that if you did pay attention, you would not have to come ask me for help so often? Sieversii is an excellent institution, and I am sure if you just applied yourself you would do fine. ”

She came through the door, dragging a stool behind her, and shrugged as she brought it next to Caleb’s position at the counter.

“Maybe,” she said, “but then what would be my excuse to come bother you all the time? Besides, the college might be good but our teacher is shit. I don’t know who ever gave Professor Anders his license, but they should be arrested for mistreating children.”

“You are over twenty years old.”

“All the same,” Jester said, and gestured towards her binder. “Anyways, come on! Learning time! Why are there letters in the bracket, and what am I supposed to do with them?”

Caleb picked up a pencil. “These are indicators, that show magnitude and direction,” he explained, drawing a line across the page. “It means that the, the, say a particle, is moving this way…”

•

Nott, crouching behind the rusted iron railing thirty feet away, cast Minor Image over the necklace grasped in her Mage Hand. It immediately transformed into a pigeon with its wings outstretched, and she quickly yanked the Hand into the air and towards her, creating the illusion, more or less, of a bird taking flight. Nobody seemed to notice anything strange, and she grinned brightly when the hefty silver chain fell into her palm.

“I am the best,” she whispered delightedly to herself, and slipped the necklace into her pouch.

•

“No way,” Beau argued, waving her hands passionately through the air. “Kamordah was robbed. That ref had no idea what he was talking about.”

“Elbowing is a foul, Beau,” Fjord sighed, “and if he didn’t call Redleaf out Alfield would’ve stampeded.”

“Aw, bullshit. That was barely an elbow! And Alfield shouldn’t be talking, their record last year was a mess.”

“Yeah, sure, but you know Redleaf has a history—”

They continued arguing as they made they way down the sidewalk, city buildings towering above them and streets slowly coming alive as the evening crowd finished work and started filtering out for the night. The sky above them was just beginning to darken, and a winter chill swept across their red cheeks and damp hair--still dripping slightly from the gym showers. Eventually, they turned the corner and the metropolitan landscape opened up into a grand view of the harbor, where ships docked on the river and, a block away, the Fletching & Moondrop stood proudly beside the gleaming water.

“Is Jester coming by tonight?” Beau asked after they eventually just agreed to disagree and began making their way to the back staircase of the bar.

“I think so,” said Fjord as followed Beau up. “I’m pretty sure she has an exam soon, but she’s been pretty excited to see how the anniversary preparations are coming. I promised her a behind-the-scenes tour,” he added sheepishly.

“We work in Fletch, though,” Beau said as she rifled through her duffel bag for the keys.

“I know, I know, but Jester still wants to see it. I’ll sneak her into the back during break and besides, I think they like me enough.”

“Do you know what’s been planned?” Beau asked. “It sucks that we’ll be working while it’s all going on.”

Fjord shrugged again. “I know there’s some kind of big production, but that’s all Molly’s told me so far. He came home one night in a skintight dress and a feather boa, but that might just’ve been him.”

“I wish the performers would tell us more,” Beau groused. “They’re so cliquey.”

“They spend a lot of time together, I guess. And, honestly, I don’t know if I could handle that kind of life. Molly’s gone all hours of the day, I’m just glad he and Yasha bother to hang out with us.”

Beau pushed the door open and raised an eyebrow at Fjord. “Was that sarcasm?” she asked.

He grinned. “Maybe,” he said, and swung the door shut behind him.

•

“Oh, Mr. Widogast,” said Yorda, the head librarian, just as Caleb was zipping his satchel shut. “I was hoping to catch you before you left.”

Caleb glanced up, and gave her his signature, politely blank expression. “Hello, good afternoon. Is there something we need to discuss?”

She nodded, and Caleb caught the nervous expression in her eyes. His heart sank.

“Is this about my request for more hours?” he asked dejectedly. “I assume you cannot?”

She wrung her hands. “I’m sorry, dear, but I’m afraid it’s worse than that. Er...I’m going to have to cut you down to only three days a week.”

Caleb fumbled for his bag, and just managed to grab the strap before it hit the ground. His eyes were wide, and he could feel a number of emotions now wracking his brain. He tried to tamp them down.

“But...but...why?” he asked as calmly as he could. “Why? I am a good worker., I have the best record with correctly sorting books, I...I am a good worker, Miss—”

Yorda gave him a pained expression and shook her head. “I’m sorry dear, I’m sorry. It’s not you, understand? The whole library’s budget was cut, I promise this has nothing to do with your performance. I’d let you run the entire building all day if I could, we just can’t afford it, right now. Adelaine's getting a cut too, and I won’t tell you how my salary’s looking. I’m sorry, dear. I wish I could do something about it, but--”

After that, it was largely a blur. At some point, Caleb had eventually collected his things, excused himself, and walked out the front door. He barely remembered striding quickly through the city streets, barely remembered making it back to his building, must have avoided the creaking floorboards by the stairs so Kosh wouldn’t hear him on instinct, and only really awoke as he crept into his apartment and shut the door and slumped down onto the ground and closed his eyes. He could see the numbers dancing in front of him, dried-out expo marker scrawled on the whiteboard, his perfect calculations to ensuring their financial security now shattered.

He couldn’t be mad at Yorda; she was a nice enough woman seemed genuine about her sympathy. Libraries were never really on the city's radar anyways, that and the books were why he wanted to work there so badly in the first place. But now what? Now what was he supposed to do?

Somewhere in the fog of frustration, he felt Frumpkin crawl into his lap. He gratefully accepted the cat’s soothing purrs, and tried to think of what he could possibly do next.

•

Nott was on top of the world. She already had a jade bracelet and another necklace tucked away in her pouch, and was in the middle of the risky but enthralling process of trying to use two Mage Hands at once to carefully remove a woman’s shiny gold earrings. After that, she’d go home and show Caleb the haul she’d gotten today.

•

Today 7:43PM

Molly Tealeaf: actually now that i think about it i wont be free this saturday Molly Tealeaf: its the 25th of the bar! Molly Tealeaf: tomorrow would be best then i can tell you all about it!

Molly, sprawled across the sofa and glaring intently at his phone, almost didn’t notice as Jester danced into the Moondrop’s break room, followed by an exasperated-looking Fjord. But then she grinned delightedly, and threw herself onto the cushion next to Molly and started giggling.

“Mollymauk! How are you today?”

He looked over, took in the sheepish smile on Fjord’s face, and beamed. “I’m doing wonderfully, dear. What brings you here?”

“I need a full tour and breakdown of Saturday’s performance,” she said, instantly snapping in all-business mode. “Fjord doesn’t know shit.”

“Well, come on, I know some things—”

“Like what?” Molly asked, raising an eyebrow. “What could you possibly know?”

He floundered for a moment, and then looked down at the ground. “Drinks are 25% off downstairs,” he muttered. “There’s a new DJ.”

Molly laughed, and flung an arm around Jester’s shoulders. “Stick with me, dear. I’ll fill you in. But Fjord isn’t allowed to know. Not because he works downstairs,” Molly added quickly, “but because I just love seeing him like this.” Then he turned towards Fjord and winked. “Tell Beau she’s welcome up here any time, and I’m sure I could rope Yasha into showing her around.”

As the half-orc rolled his eyes, Jester giggled harder and nodded excitedly. “Ooh, I can’t wait! Oh, but first,” she said, quickly tapping Molly on the nose, “I have a message from Caleb. Well, more or less. Basically if you two are going to be friends, you need to know that he never uses his cell. If you need to talk to him, you gotta go through Nott.”

Molly had a brief flashback to the night before, when three feet of narrow-eyed, suspicious green protectiveness had glared up at him from behind scraggly bangs and a tattered brown hoodie. He thought about Caleb. He sighed.

“Alright, alright,” Molly conceded. “No pain no gain, I suppose. Now, a tour! Come on, I know just where to start.”

“Oh?”

“Oh yes. The costume room.”

•

“What’re you doing back down here so soon?” Beau asked, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you and Jester were going to go fuck in the back room?”

Fjord’s ears turned a deep, deep shade of green, and he dejectedly made his way around the bar. “First off all, we weren’t going to do that,” he muttered. “Secondly, Molly stole her. He’s showing her the decorations ‘n whatever now.”

Beau, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, shrugged. “Hey, at least she’s happy, right?”

Fjord sighed, but this did seem to brighten his mood. “Yeah, I guess so,” he agreed, and then gave Beau a sly grin. “Yasha’s up there right now too, by the street level door. Molly says she might give you a tour if you asked nicely. AndI don’t think she goes on break for a while, so if you wanted to sneak up there…?”

Beau’s cheeks colored, and she quickly looked down at the ground. “I...er...nah. Nah, it’s alright. But um...was she wearing that sleeveless shirt?”

Fjord chuckled, and nodded.

“Fuck me running,” sighed Beau, and let her arms uncross. “Damn.”

•

“Caleb, why are you on the floor?” Nott asked as she climbed through the window. Living on the third floor never broke her habit of unconventional entry.

He looked up, and worry instantly spiked through her chest. That glassy-eyed expression usually was a signal that something was wrong. She quickly made her way over, and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you alright? Is...is there anything wrong?”

He nodded, and sighed. “Yorda spoke to me today.”

“...um...alright? What did she say?”

“She cut down my hours. We are now operating on two less days of salary.”

Nott was quiet for a moment. Then she carefully wiggled an arm between his back and the wall, and pulled him into a hug.

“It’s okay,” she muttered. “We...we’ll be fine. You’ll figure it out and oh, hey!”

She broke away, and yanked her pouch out. “Look at this! Look, I got a bunch of stuff today, and it might even be real! Maybe this will help.”

Caleb, who had untensed slightly after her embrace, managed a small smile. “That’s very good, spatz. I am sure they will help quite a bit, we can go see Oglen tomorrow.”

“Great!” beamed Nott with relief. “I can—”

Her phone buzzed. She frowned, and pulled it out.

Today 8:19PM

Molly Tealeaf: hello there Nott

She blinked, and rubbed at her eyes. Maybe the cold air of the apartment was messing with her vision. When she looked back down at the screen, she frowned. It was Molly.

Nott TB: what do you want

There was a brief pause, and the “...” icon let Nott know her response had the desired effect.

Molly Tealeaf: straight to the point i see alright Molly Tealeaf: i was told that if i need to contact caleb you are the person to go to Molly Tealeaf: actually apparently via phone you are the only person to go to

She smirked slightly at that. Next to her, Caleb peered over her shoulder at the tiny screen.

Nott TB: you are correct why do you need him

There was another pause.

Molly Tealeaf: id like to arrange a meeting with him Molly Tealeaf: i need to give that coat back Molly Tealeaf: and i want to treat him to coffee tomorrow to thank him for letting me borrow it

She rolled her eyes, and Caleb spoke.

“Who is that? What are they saying?”

Nott passed her cell over. “It’s Molly. He wants to meet up tomorrow and return your coat and buy you coffee.”

Caleb blinked. There was something stirring at the back of his mind, but he couldn’t entirely pinpoint what it was. “He wants to return my coat and buy me coffee?”

Nott shrugged. “I guess.” And then she brightened and said, “Hey, you should go! You need to relax, I bet, and you love coffee. And free things. And that coat was a present from Jester. She’d be sad if you didn’t get it.”

Caleb rubbed his chin. He glanced down at the phone, and handed it back to Nott. “Al...alright, I suppose. I guess I would not have had anything to do tomorrow anyway.”

“Great!” Nott said. “I’ll let him know.”

Caleb nodded. “Do that, please. I will...um...I will go sort out my closet, now. Excuse me.”

And then he got up, and walked into the bedroom. Nott heard the curtain that divided the room in two slide shut.

She looked back at her phone.

Molly Tealeaf: please tell me you aren’t ignoring me Molly Tealeaf: do you hate me Molly Tealeaf: nott please if anything just let me swing by and get the coat Molly Tealeaf: nott please

She sighed.

Nott TB: he’s in Nott TB: if the coffee place is far he’ll need a ride Nott TB: im watching you mister Molly Tealeaf: uh Molly Tealeaf: thank you Nott TB: dont mention it pick a time tomorrow bye

And before Molly could type out a response, she grinned smugly to herself, put the phone away, and skipped off to bed.

#critical role #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #caleb widogast #mollymauk tealeaf #nott #beauregard #fjord #jester #yasha #widomauk #beauyasha #fjorjester #text #jay writes #something new for me and you #modern au #magic exists

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eponymous-rose · 8 years ago

Text

Fic: Foresight (Vax, Vex, ensemble)

[AO3 | FFN | More Fic]

In his memory, Vax is forever locked in a moment (in a moment in a moment).

Major spoilers for episode 102.

Foresight

SPRING

In his memory, Byroden is forever locked in springtime.

Warm light glints off sun-dappled leaves, distracting the eye from even the most vivid of wildflowers that pitch and sway with the wind-blown grasses. He's young, sitting in the dirt and watching his sister methodically pull up strands of grass and release them into the wind to flutter and flicker away. He's thinking about Jerren, the kindly old man next door who'd died last week. He's thinking about his mother leaning in close with tears in her eyes and saying, "I'm so sorry, but he's not coming back," he's thinking about what it means to end and to make other people feel sorry, he's thinking about what it means to go and not come back.

"I never want this to end," he says.

Vex just looks at him, pulling up another handful of grass. "I'm getting hungry. We gotta go in sometime."

"I mean, I'm gonna remember this when I'm two hundred years old," Vax says. "This day, today. The way the sun looks and the grass looks and the sky looks."

She grins. "You'll definitely forget."

"It's not fair that it ends and then it's just over." He pokes her in the shoulder. "Stop pulling up the grass, Stubby."

Without breaking eye contact, Vex grabs a bigger handful, opens her hand palm-up, and lets the wind take it away. "I'm setting it free."

He grabs her arm when she reaches down again. "You're killing it. It's not good for it."

She stops, cocks her head to the side. "Are you crying?"

"No. Shut up." He pulls back from her arm as though burned. "It's just grass."

Vex lets the few remaining strands of grass flutter out of her hand; he looks away, swipes irritably at his eyes, and sits in silence until he feels Vex's shoulder bump up against his. She sighs. "I miss Jerren, too. And if you forget about today when you're old and doddering and still all those long minutes older and dodderier than me, I'll remind you. It's not over yet."

He leans into her shoulder, and this is the image that sticks: sitting in the dirt with his sister's warmth to his side, chasing away the last remnants of chill in the early-spring air, breathing through his mouth so he doesn't sniffle too loudly, watching stray strands of grass flutter and catch amid the waving sea of wildflowers below.

When they run, years later, they don't go straight home; they meander instead, exploring the novelty of isolation together through the end of an unkind winter.

By the time they do find the rubble of their home, exhausted and heartsick, spring has pressed the last of the snow away, and Vax sits for a very long time on the charred stonework and tries to build the place back up in his memory, every misremembered pebble a betrayal. Vex paces, Trinket rumbling his worry at her side, and Vax listens to the soft tread of his sister's boots on the grass, heavier and more sure than the footsteps he remembers.

Another sound, more familiar: a slow wrenching, the snap-snap-snap of strands of grass coming out of the ground. Before he can turn around, she's yanked back the collar of his tunic and dumped a handful of torn-up grass down the back of it.

He yelps, "What the fuck, Vex?" twisting and swatting at her hands, and she backs away with something that's not quite a laugh or a sob, beaming at him with watery eyes above the hand she holds up to hide her smile as he twists and wriggles, cursing vehemently and shaking the grass out of his clothes.

When he's finally given up on the last few itchy strands, he slumps back into the dirt, staring into the sun until his sister steps over him, eclipsing the too-bright light. "Told you I wouldn't forget."

He breathes the unfamiliar scent of ashes and closes his eyes, tries to recapture a bright, sun-dappled field in his memory. "Never wanted it to end."

He hears the new set in her jaw even before he opens his eyes and sees it. "No," she says. "It's not over yet."

SUMMER

Vex fades in Syngorn like the grasses in a drought, color and life and vitality bleeding from her.

Vax remembers studying some of the less boring ancient elven poets, remembers the theory of temperamental balance, and that's what comes to mind whenever he looks at her: strength and rage fading from her and blooming, inevitably, within him.

"I don't like what this city makes of us," he mutters, elbows propped against the windowsill, staring out at the wavering heat of the unimpressive view from their unimpressive room in an unimpressive house in an unimpressive neighborhood in a whole fucking unimpressive town. His hands are still shaking.

"No, it was–" Vex sighs, slumping back onto her bed with such force that the wood creaks alarmingly. "You weren't wrong. Our illustrious father is indeed a fuckwit, a bastard, and a... what was it?"

Vax can feel his ears going pink, thrumming with his too-fast heartbeat. "I don't remember."

"I think it was 'fuckface from fucksville, fuckandria'. Something terribly eloquent, anyway."

"He's not worth the effort of eloquence," Vax says. "Going to limit my vocabulary accordingly."

"Just the one word, then?"

"Even that's a stretch." In spite of himself, he can feel a smirk twisting his lips. "I'll give him the 'f' and the 'u' next time, but that's all."

"Mm," Vex says, noncommittally.

Normally she's about the only person who goes along with his shitty attempts at humor, so he glances over his shoulder, and isn't entirely surprised to see her curled away from him, covering her face with her hands, shoulders shaking. "Hey," he says, and settles cautiously on the edge of the bed next to her.

"No," she says, voice quavering. "You were right. I don't like what this city makes us into. I don't want to think about what we're going to become at the end of it. I don't want to be angry all the time."

Vax pulls his knees up to his chest. "I think that's not something we really get to decide. I mean, we can leave someday, fuck this place, but before that I think Mom will–" He closes on his mouth on that thought so quickly that his teeth clack against each other.

Vex curls back to look at him with puffy eyes. "You think she's coming back for us."

Vax chews at his bottom lip for a moment, then blurts out, "She wouldn't abandon us here. Not if she knew."

"I don't know that it's up to her. Syldor didn't make it sound like it was up to her." Her voice takes on an elaborate, over-the-top snooty air that never fails to make him smile, no matter how shitty he's feeling. "He came back to retrieve his property."

"Yeah, well, shipment damaged in transit," Vax says. "And anyway, if it's not up to her, then maybe it's up to us."

Vex's half-cocked smile fades, and she sits up, scrubbing at her eyes with the palm of her hand. "Yeah," she says. "Maybe it is. You think there's another option?"

There's a sense of the ground shifting beneath him, like just he's set something into motion, something heavy and ponderous that'll only pick up speed the farther it falls. Maybe not temperamental balance, then, but two embers giving off enough heat to keep each other alight in the cold. He squares his shoulders. "I think there's always another option."

That afternoon, when Vex fucks up her arithmetic lesson, their instructor says, "Well, I suppose perhaps we should know by now to manage our expectations."

Vex says, softly, "All right," and only Vax sees the new fire raging behind her eyes, and hears her whispering, under her breath like a prayer, "There's always another option."

It's an ugly fight in the summer heat, years later, as they battle alongside the ragged beginnings of the mercenary band that would become their family.

His sister has already taken a bad hit, the result of one goblin's lucky knife-throw at the start of the melee, and while Vax can still hear the hiss of arrows zipping past, even louder to his ears is the uneven, labored rattle of her breathing. He's not much better off, with no cover from which to strike, and all he can do to ward off the uneven number of attackers is to slash frantically at enemies that are too quick and nimble not to see him coming.

The realization hits him, hard, even as the goliath snarls a surprisingly civil, "Mind if I cut in?" and shoves past him, cleaving three goblin heads with a single swing of his greataxe:

Left to their own devices, he and Vex would never have survived this ambush.

Vax turns, drops one of his knives to clutch at a long gash across his ribs, and stumbles over to his sister. There's blood on her face, but she's still firing into the fray, quickly, mechanically, with the calm her instructors had begrudgingly praised on the training grounds. Wordlessly, he positions himself at her back, scanning the woods until he hears a final arrow, an arcane buzz of energy, and finally an indeterminate splat sound, apparently signalling the end of the fight.

Vex's sigh turns into a coughing fit, and so he sinks with her to the ground, watching as she pulls a vial from her belt and downs it. Another gift, that, courtesy of the little musician. Another without-which-we-don't-survive-this.

"You look terrible, brother," Vex says, when she can speak again, baring her blood-pink teeth at him until he wrinkles his nose in disgust. "Did you get hit on the head?"

Vax rubs his face with both hands, smearing blood that's more goblin than his own. "Fucking tired," he says. "That's all." And then, because she's never bought any of the bullshit he's tried selling her over the years, he adds, "You and me, on our own, right? We'd have been fucking dead."

"Pretty much," she says, and pokes him in the chest. "But we're not dead, Vax. That's what matters."

A pair of hands drifts into his field of view, startlingly close, and Vax jolts back to see the other half-elf, the druid, leaning over them, offering them both a hand up. "Sorry," she says, with an awkward, too-bright smile. He's beginning to realize that a lot of what she does is simultaneously awkward and too bright. "Didn't mean to sneak up on you. Everyone okay here?"

Vax takes one of her hands, Vex takes the other, and he's yanked back to his feet almost before he has time to blink. "Still alive," he says, surreptitiously steadying himself on Vex's shoulder. "So I guess that's a win."

"Still alive," says Keyleth, slapping him on the back hard enough that he stumbles. "Well, okay. Kind of a low bar to hit, but we've all gotta start somewhere. Good for you!" And with that baffling statement, she wanders back over to the others.

Vax glances over to find Vex already looking at him, her vaguely disbelieving expression the mirror of his own. "What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?" he whispers, hoarsely.

Vex, still staring after Keyleth, shakes her head and smiles. "We should've died. We didn't. There's always another option."

FALL

What Vax remembers most about their flight from Syngorn is the cold.

His heartbeat is thrumming so loudly in his ears that he's certain the High Warden must be able to hear it. Vex's hand, clamped vice-like around his wrist, is like ice, and their breath billows into clouds as they press themselves into shadows, waiting for a handful of adults to stroll past their hiding place before slipping once more onto the streets.

"I don't even know why we're bothering to hide," Vex hisses at him, but her would-be serious mien is spoiled by a giddy laugh. "None of these assholes would care if we ran."

"Shut the fuck up, Stubby, they're gonna hear us," he says, but he can't quash the glee in his voice. This is bigger, this is better, this is everything they've wanted, this is a fuck-you to fear and apathy and standing still. He wants to yell at the top of his lungs. He wants to set the whole city alight. He wants to run so fast and so far that his feet sprout wings to carry him away.

He'll wonder, as he learns more about the art of keeping unseen, how many people saw them leave that night and decided to turn a blind eye. He'll wonder, as he watches Velora play, whether Syldor knew, whether Syldor suspected, whether Syldor cared. He'll wonder, but none of it matters as they sprint into the woods, branches tearing at their fine elven clothing and the bulging rucksacks they'd started packing in secret weeks before, hopelessly loud and unsure in their footing and not caring a bit when they inevitably slip and fall and pick themselves back up again.

By the time they're far enough that the lights of the city are distant flickers between wind-caught leaves, indistinguishable from the fireflies that blink slow and comforting in the darkness, they're both laughing, high and fearful, brave and warm.

"I'm so cold," Vax says, still laughing, wiping tears from his streaming eyes. "This was a fucking terrible idea."

Vex is smiling at the sky, at the lights of stars winking through the sparse canopy. "But it was our terrible idea."

The late-afternoon sunlight is warmth on a cold day, drifting orange and red through the changing leaves outside the tavern window.

"Your go, Vax," Pike says, with heavily strained politeness. Obviously not the first time she's said it.

Keyleth taps the tabletop emphatically. "Come on, come on, hurry it up. I thought it was the twins' idea to play in the first place! We're burning daylight, here."

"You've become really quite alarmingly competitive," Percy says, and raises his hands in surrender when she shoots him a glare.

Vax blinks the cobwebs from his brain and glances back at the cards in front of him. Utter shit. Shouldn't matter. "Sure," he says, making sure to set his cards face-down on the table. "I'm in for more."

Grog draws a card, bellows, "Hah!", and slams his fist on the table.

"Ah," says Vax, as cards rain down all around him. "Never would've seen that one coming. What a shame, guess we'll have to start again."

Vex, glaring daggers, kicks him so hard under the table that his vision momentarily goes white.

What follows is five minutes spent picking up cards and splinters of broken wood, three minutes spent arguing with the barkeep over the price of furniture, two minutes spent arguing about how many cards should've been in the deck, ten minutes spent unsuccessfully attempting to counterfeit the missing card by hand, three minutes spent arguing over which spells to burn to create a replacement card, five minutes spent searching for the card, and, finally, Grog drawing the card, apparently from thin air, and asking if it was what all the fuss was about.

They give up on cards after that, settle into a rare companionable silence, and watch the sunset through the window until Grog says, sheepishly, "Sorry about the cards."

"That's how we always used to play at Wilhand's," Pike adds. "Just, you know, cards everywhere. Sometimes you gotta have a cleric around to patch up the minor injuries."

"Right," says Grog. "Didn't account for house rules."

"Not destroying furniture while playing a game of cards," Percy says, cautiously, "should probably not constitute a house rule."

Grog snorts into his goblet of ale. "Sounds like a boring-ass game of cards."

"Well," says Vax, "I for one had a great time."

Vex elbows him, and he winces; her bony elbows are sharper than some of his knives. "That's because you were cheating. Just, the whole time. Blatantly cheating."

"I don't know about you," Vax drawls, "but where I grew up, cheating was an essential part of house rules."

"You dick. I am going to steal back the 250 gold you won off me."

"I'd love to see you try it, Stubby."

Percy, with a long-suffering sigh, stares up at the ceiling and mutters, "This card game was a terrible idea."

"Ah," says Vex, at exactly the same time as Vax chimes in, "but it was our terrible idea."

WINTER

In his memory, Vax is forever locked in a moment (in a moment in a moment). Vax is fading like grasses in a summer drought. What Vax remembers most is the cold.

Snow's falling, he knows. Time's gone strange, he knows, like strands of grass down the back of his shirt, like a hand pulling him up and up and up, like a deck of cards spilling off a table. He thinks the soft-glowing threads around him are binding him, he thinks the soft-glowing threads around him are his to command with a single careful tug, he thinks the soft-glowing threads around him could be twined into a rope to climb to safety.

Vex, beside him under a clear night sky, beside him in a nameless tavern, says, "Ah, but it was our terrible idea."

Vex, beside him in their classes in Syngorn, beside him in the wake of a fight, says, "There's always another option."

Vex, beside him in a field outside Byroden, beside him at the ruins of their home, says, "It's not over yet."

In his memory, Vax is forever locked in a moment (in a moment in a moment). Somewhere, that moment is ending and another is about to begin.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #eponymous fic 2017 #vax'ildan #vex'ahlia

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