#even when he said yes to orym

[screechingfromthevoid]

I don't think Dorian wants the stewardship. I never thought he wanted the stewardship.

They're his characters and Robbie can do what he wants but when Dorian says "I'm free" it kills me inside because you can hear the relief but you can also hear the lingering dread of "for now".

And when orym asks about the future Dorian only wants "day by day" which is totally fine in the short term. But when time comes and his parents are old and grey and tired, will he return? He is next in line. Will his parents do their damnedest to stay alive as long as possible so Dorian can be free for as long as he can? Will Dorian come home and gently coax the stewardship from them when they are no longer fit?

Who will be the next Firstsun?

[caeslxys]

I’ve mentioned this elsewhere but it feels relevant again in light of the most recent episode. Something that’s really fascinating to me about Orym’s grief in comparison to the rest of the hells’ grief is that his is the youngest/most fresh and because of that tends to be the most volatile when it is triggered (aside from FCG, who was two and obviously The Most volatile when triggered.)

As in: prior to the attack on Zephrah, Orym was leading a normal, happy, casual life! with family who loved him and still do! Grief was something that was inflicted upon him via Ludinus’ machinations, whereas with characters like Imogen or Ashton, grief has been the background tapestry of their entire lives. And I think that shows in how the rest of them are largely able to, if not see past completely (Imogen/Laudna/Chetney) then at least temper/direct their vitriol or grief (Ashton/Fearne/Chetney again) to where it is most effective. (There is a glaring reason, for example, that Imogen scolded Orym for the way he reacted to Liliana and not Ashton. Because Ashton’s anger was directed in a way that was ultimately protective of Imogen—most effective—and Orym’s was founded solely in his personal grief.)

He wants Imogen to have her mom and he wants Lilliana to be salvageable for Imogen because he loves Imogen. But his love for the people in his present actively and consistently tend to conflict with the love he has for the people in his past. They are in a constant battle and Orym—he cannot fathom losing either of them.

(Or, to that point, recognize that allowing empathy to take root in him for the enemy isn't losing one of them.)

It is deeply poignant, then, that Orym’s grief is symbolized by both a sword and shield. It is something he wields as a blade when he feels his philosophy being threatened by certain conversational threads (as he believes it is one of the only things he has left of Will and Derrig, and is therefore desperately clinging onto with both bloody hands even if it makes him, occasionally, a hypocrite), but also something he can use in defense of the people he presently loves—if that provocative, blade-grief side of him does not push them—or himself—away first.

(it won’t—he is as loved by the hells as he loves them. he just needs to—as laudna so beautifully said—say and hear it more often.)

[jennydolfen]

In case you've been wondering how small baby halflings are - I have been wondering since the episode where Alma embarassed Orym by showing off his baby booties, and Liam said, "Think about the babies in your life... and then think even smoler." And yes, that was absolutely how he spelled it when he said it.

[zwoftt]

just thinking about how canonically, orym thinks that dorian doesn't reciprocate romantic feelings towards him and is really shy about his love for dorian. even though: -exu: prime, dorian was practically crushing hard on orym and was very distraught in their first argument (about the circlet)), not to mention dorian was usually always checking up on orym and on orym's side when nobody else was/didn't want to hear him out. and offered HIMSELF to join orym and fearne with traveling. -in the early eps of c3 dorian was nonstop thinking about orym and constantly checking in on him whenever he could, healing and comforting, and making sure that everyone respected orym as a 'leader'. i mean bro was actually calling himself a coward sometimes when he couldn't get to orym/help orym in those fights. dorian was PLAYED AS TUNNEL VISIONED FOR ORYM. (quite frankly, still is) AND was said to have 'ran away from something important to him'. the sending stone message back??? the tone robbie decided to have??? -recent c3 eps when he was on orym's side during the laudna ordeal, and even asked ORYM what HE wanted to do/if laudna could be trusted. staring ''deeply'' into orym's eyes when he put him down from the reunion hug. literally told orym to his face during the rain scene outside the tavern that "i've thought about you every step of the way." -- telling orym EVERYTHING he needed to hear; about not being everyone's protector, and that he wasn't leaving/going anywhere, that he HAS SOMEONE to lean on too. constantly was healing and [or at least trying to]saving orym... and only silently loathed when credit went to ashton instead. bought orym an expensive armor because idk he thought orym's eyes were cute, not to mention thinking about how his opinion on the gods correlated to orym's story as-well (meaning he was still thinking of orym and orym's opinion during that) as we got from the cooldown of ep102... and THEN WHEN THIS NEW ARGUMENT HAPPENED IN e103??? he said,,, absolutely nothing back. because he doesn't like conflict,, yes, but he especially doesn't like conflict with orym. yeah no its totally one-sided guys.

[utilitycaster]

to me i feel like the hells were meant for a campaign more like cr2, which i feel like that's been discussed before even on your blog? like idk orym and braius were the only characters who actually fit this campaign, maybe imogen for obvious reasons. but laudna, fearne, ashton, chetney all felt like they belonged in a lower stakes, more personal campaign

Yes, I have talked about this extensively: honestly, either a Campaign 1 or Campaign 2 structure would have served them better. For what it's worth I feel like everyone other than Laudna managed to make something of it - Fearne and Chetney frankly did a lot of work to explore their concepts, it was just never rewarded or frankly in many cases revisited in any way (again, consequences do not mean punishment; they quite literally just mean that one's actions lead to results that follow from said actions), and while I ended up not caring much for Ashton as a character, I actually think Taliesin played them with a strong logical throughline. But it is true that the plot really, in the end, served none of them, not even Orym or Imogen (Braius it kind of did, but he was developed so late in the game that he was designed around its flaws). There was just never space to really explore the dark fairytale Ashley talked about early on; Tuyen and that other toymaker back in Marquet were never revisited nor was Ruidus's impact on Chetney nor was there an appearance of Doreo, and even Drixlich and the offers to the pirates vanished (side note but Travis is perhaps actual play's best plot thread generator and I think it's telling that he kind of gave up on that eventually because it never fucking went anywhere, after two campaigns where it consistently did). When it comes to Imogen I am reminded of the possibly apocryphal theater review for King Lear that went "the lead actor played the king as though he momentarily expected someone to play the ace;" she was a great concept but at no point inhabited her decisions meaningfully on the rare occasions she made them. Orym was never really given the opportunities Caleb had to explore grief and while I personally am okay with his deal with Morri being canceled, it plus the whole Vax thing really feel like a thumbing of the nose at Liam's RP choices across the decade. Ashton's temporary growth and then regression honestly feel very real, just deeply unsympathetic, though the ending of the story where nothing about the All Minds Burn or his talk with Shady Sally or the titans or the Hishari came up and the genuinely great moment of sacrifice turned into another "and then Essek fixes it for you" was narratively empty. But the more I think about it, the more this was largely a failure of Matt to tell a different kind of story with any measure of success. I think this campaign in many ways played hard to Matt, Marisha, and Laura's weaknesses in particular (and a little bit of Liam's if I'm being honest in the end) whereas the others embraced their strengths, and this is what happened; the rest of the cast kind of made the most of it.

[beauregardlionett]

did i rant to my friends about dorian and orym just to be called a simp? yes i did. and i'll do it again.

these two characters? consume my waking thoughts. because just fucking think about this from a timeline/literary point of view for a second with me.

orym lost his husband and his father-in-law (who he always calls dad because he didn't have a dad growing up) in a violent attack on his leader a while ago and whatever magic was used to kill them kept them dead - no reviving magic worked to bring them back. in the space of a single attack, he lost two of the most important people in his life, and now he's a widow who still mourns and loves in equal measure even while far from home trying to save the world. he loves even though he's scared of losing again.

dorian is a runaway heir to a title he never really wanted, a musician for himself, a charlatan hiding behind an easy smile, who has really only ever wanted to see the world in his own time and make real friends for once in his life. and he did that! all on his own! he was with the group at the beginning of the campaign but then they ran into his older brother who was in trouble and needed to lay low and dorian went with him, falling back on old instincts that family by blood comes first. he ran from the group and from the foundations he was building with them. because dorian has only ever run from the things that scare him. but now he's back, re-traced his frightened footsteps toward the daunting promise of tomorrow - not yet with the group, we're getting his side of the story first. and he even said it himself, that he ran from the group and now he's not sure why he did it, why he left, when he stands here now and realizes everything he wanted was already in front of him.

they have sending stones, a once a day chance to say something to each other in 25 words or less. they've been using them, keeping each other updated on where they are, that they're still alive, and kindling this flame even without dorian at the table, without even seeing each other, and liam has been carrying this torch alone for 78 episodes but damn it the flame is still lit regardless!

and orym always updates on their progress and location first, and with whatever words he has left he drops in a sentiment to remind dorian that they still care - that orym still cares. and orym is practical through and through, he's a strategist so he always always always uses his words wisely because he's so fucking limited by this spell but the last message he sent? he repeated himself, he admitted a weakness, he faltered.

he told dorian where they were. he asked if dorian could come their way. he admitted to struggling while his voice broke. he asked again but in a different way if dorian could come their way. he ended the message with the most heartbreaking "fuck, i miss you," i have ever heard in my life.

orym, the man who messaged dorian 52 episodes ago and said "glad you're not here, wish you were anyway." because they're constantly in danger, and he wouldn't wish that on dorian, but he still aches to have him near. orym, the man who confessed 13 episodes ago during a trial with his friends that he's lonely, that he misses dorian and sometimes he thinks it's okay and sometimes he doesn't - because he was married and is still mourning and how dare he have feelings for someone else? how dare he move on even when his husband would WANT him to be happy again? he indicated dorian was missed by everyone in three of his previous messages before the trial, before finally shifting to 'I, orym, me - it's me who misses you'.

and dorian, the one who replied to a message orym sent him with "stay steadfast, sending you fairer winds" in the most longing tone i have EVER heard. dorian, who kissed orym's forehead when they parted ways but that is the closest they have come to acknowledging whatever is between them. dorian, who has been to orym's home between exu and c3 and met orym's mom and knows about orym's husband.

when orym died 58 episodes ago, he went limp and the sending stone slipped out of his hand because he was trying to message dorian before he died, before he ran out of words and breath. before he was revived, there was a moment he stood in the beyond and saw his husband and he told orym "you're not done," and orym said "i really wish i could stay," and then his husband said "i'll still be here," and orym said, heartbroken, "oh, i miss you so bad."

he told dorian, "i've really missed you," and "fuck, i miss you." i miss you is orym's way of saying i love you.

they're so close. they are so close. and orym fully died 19 episodes after dorian left, but he was revived and then never told dorian via sending that happened. part of me wants dorian to find out and the other part hopes he never has to feel like he failed orym by leaving. because nothing could have changed that from happening, not even dorian.

they are so close to reuniting, orym has needed dorian back for WEEKS and he's so close. i'm begging them to hold on so they can hold each other again.

and, again, from a literary point of view, you know the wildest part about all of this?

none of it is scripted.

[pearlaquaoceans]

Maybe I'm having a total brain fart and can't recall the moment, but.. Dorian hasn't actually told anyone his brother was murdered by a Lolth right? He only said his brother was dead, his friends were now champions of two of the gods, and he's seen evil in the world. If he did actually say 'Lolth, a god, killed my brother' or the like, please, for the love of the gods, send me a timestamp to shut me up. I saw that last chunk of 93 when it was discussed most prominently, as Dorian took every opportunity to not talk about it because he couldn't handle saying it out loud.

I'm seeing so many takes that Orym is heartless, selfish, or terrible for shutting Dorian down in the conversation and yes it is not okay to do that to someone, but like.. has Dorian communicated any of that fight to Orym? Robbie has said Dorian is the ultimate compartmentalizer, so why would he talk about it when he could just ignore it? So how would Orym know?

Yes, it's dick move, but also how many people have done a 'maybe we hear Ludinus out' even when knowing Orym's story? That's gonna wear anyone down. Seeing the man you love be on the opposite side of the conversation must hurt. I do not believe Orym would say that same rebuttel if he had full context. Same with swordgate. Laudna did not say anything but did try to steal it and ended up causing harm to him and escalating the situation at breakneck speed. As soon as he had even a slightly better understanding of the situation, he put the sword down and said he chose her over the sword.

If Dorian isn't going to communicate his pain and his experience to give Orym a new understanding of the situation, how is Orym supposed to know? Orym often asks for people to spell it out for him, and subtle context clues are not his Forte, but fans seem to expect him to know all the things he hasn't been told. Again. Shooting Dorian down was wrong (I believe Liam knew exactly what he was doing because he wanted that tension because its juicy and he is the king of it), but I'm genuinely confused by the takes saying Orym is horrible for the things he said like he said them knowingly. If Dorian cannot communicate what has caused his pains, how is Orym supposed to save him from that pain or to understand his view?

This is, of course, me viewing 103 through my own lens of my experiences and how I understand and connect to the characters. I am also someone who struggles to pick up context clues. If I'm not told anything but people expect me to know the rules of the engagement regardless, I'm gonna fail. People are allowed to have their own views. I know I don't have charitable views of certain characters. I'm just confused why Orym is called an asshole for his words, more than once, when the conversations being had aren't exactly even playing fields. Again, if there's a timestamp, please let me know so I can recontextualize my own understanding of the conversation.

[cassafrasscr]

I continue to have so many thoughts about Ashton.

I've seen a handful of posts accusing Ashton of being selfish and power-hungry, and I don't think that's completely inaccurate, per se. I don't think it's fair to frame it as Ashton just wanting power for it's own sake without considering the larger context of the threat they're facing.

Let's look back on the Hells' first battle with Otohan.

Ashton was almost completely useless in that fight. He got knocked out twice in the space of a few rounds. Which, no shade. With her Echoes in play, Otohan was almost able kill Keyleth (a level 20 Archdruid, plus her elemental Wildshape) in a single round.

Ashton's whole job is to tank hits and deal damage. With an enemy that can deal out enough damage in one round to put the tank out of commission, his ability to mitigate damage to the rest of the party is severely hampered (if not cancelled out completely).

The only reason Ashton didn't also die in that fight is that his friends healed them enough that they could get back up again, and they were able to make a run for it before Otohan started going back to kill the PCs she had already knocked out.

And that was just Otohan. One of Ludinus' right hand generals, sure, but still nowhere near as strong as Ludinus himself (or even Predathos, if it gets released). Even once they defeat Otohan, the fight that's still in store for Bell's Hells is near insurmountable.

Taliesin has said in a previous 4SD (don't remember which one, sorry) that this fight was the moment that Ashton realized just how invested with this new group they had become. The moment he couldn't protect his friends was the moment he realized that he finally had the family he'd been missing... and by then three of them (Orym, Laudna, and Fearne - probably the PCs Ash was closest to at the time) were dead.

Not only could Ashton not protect his friends, he also ran. He left his friends behind and half of them ended up getting killed. I think Ashton may feel they left their friends for dead in that moment, the same way the Nobodies left him for dead after the Hexum Heist.

Now, I'm not sure I would necessarily equivocate these two situations - this is just where I think Ashton's head might be given recent events. I don't think he would see any significant difference between the Nobodies leaving him after his fall, and him running for his life during the Otohan fight. If I'm remembering correctly, this is also around the time that Ashton really started to double down on their "Nobody gets left behind" rule.

Now that Ash is aware of how much he cares about the other Hells, he will do absolutely anything to keep them. Bell's Hells is too invested in the fight against Ludinus to turn back, and Ashton is never going to leave them again. So if the Hells won't abandon the fight, and Ash won't abandon the Hells, their only option is to get strong enough to keep their friends safe.

So of course Ashton took the Shard of Rau'shan when Fearne didn't want it. No one else seemed able or willing to take it, so Ashton charged ahead with his decision the way he tends to do.

Was it arrogant and hubristic? YES. Was it a power-hungry thing to do? YES. Was it wrong to keep it secret from the rest of the group? YES. But there's not a single force in Exandria that will make Ashton regret taking that shard if it helps him protect his friends even a little bit.

It also feels fitting to me that one of the few things Ashton can't protect them from is his own poor decision making.

[unicyclehippo]

15. kiss on the back for the prompt thing!

Imogen has spent years submerged in the sweet, babbling waters of Laudna’s mind so, while she may not be able to hear her thoughts now, she still remembers their current. And besides, some things don’t need to be said. It’s an unspoken agreement between them—a quirked brow, the tilt of an answering smile—to return Zhudanna’s coin. 

Laudna distracts their elderly friend with an enthusiastic—and slightly gooey—recreation of recent journeys while Imogen carries the groceries to the kitchen. She unpacks jars of olives and honey and jam, every pickled thing they encountered, wax-wrapped cheeses, smoked and salted meats, dried fruits and beans, bags of fine-ground flour and spices. She leaves the fresh fruit and vegetables on the countertop with the pumpernickel loaves and, as she does, pulls Zhudanna’s lockbox from its hiding place beneath the beans with a subtle bit of magic. 

It’s easy to use her powers now. She knew she was getting stronger but something about being here—where she spent much of her time in degrees of agony with no way to control it or stop it, her powers flaring whenever they wanted to—the difference is stark. How reactive her magic is now, how finely-tuned to her will. A thought, and the lockbox opens. Imogen busies herself selecting and slicing an orange. Another thought, and the coins lift out of the shopping basket and zip over to the box. She arranges the orange segments on a colourful plate. The box clicks closed and slides back into place beneath the beans. It’s all done in a matter of seconds with Zhudanna none the wiser, even if she had peeked over to check on Imogen despite Laudna’s distraction—though how anyone could look away from Laudna for so much as a second during one of her stories - vibrant, enthralling as she is - Imogen doesn’t know. 

She lingers a while, helps herself to a slice of orange. It’s tart, almost sour, the way she likes them. The sun blankets half the kitchen in a square of light. Standing in that warmth recalls fragments of an old dream—baking, home, Laudna. The details are too faded and vanish when she reaches for them; in the space where they had been, her memory provides instead the aroma of baked bread and the cool press of Laudna’s lips against her own. Fingers sticky with orange, Imogen twists her wrist and presses her smile to the back of her hand. We kissed, she thinks, giddy, and suddenly the handful of steps separating her from the sitting room and Laudna is too far. 

‘—a shape like dripping tar, a great blob of malice, hovering in the air. It struck Orym with a spiralling bolt of shadow, pinning him against the rock!’ Imogen hears as she rejoins the story. 

‘Oh!’ Zhudanna squeaks. Her eyes are wide, both wrinkled hands covering her mouth in horror. When she speaks, she sounds so old—had she always, Imogen tries to recall, or is it all of this…this fucking mess around them? The solstice, the god-damning speeches, the fear suffusing the streets like thick jungle mist, the moon, the way oncoming way tilts the axis of every heart. ‘Oh,’ she says in a small, quavering voice, ‘oh dear, oh no, is he alright?’

‘Who?’

‘Your friend. Orym.’

The question makes Laudna’s smile falter. Zhudanna, half-blind, probably doesn’t notice. Imogen does. She fills the agonising pause, steps between them to put the plate down next to Zhudanna. By the time she plants herself on the footstool, twin to the armchair Laudna has claimed, Laudna has recovered. 

‘Yes. Yes, of course! He’s a warrior—a hero!’ Zhudanna heaves a sigh of relief at that, claps her hands. Laudna continues. ‘He pulled free of the shadow spear with a horrid yell and spray of blood—’

Geez, Laud, don’t forget she’s old as shit. 

And? She has such a creative soul, she’s enjoying—ah. I suppose…heart attacks…hmm. Should I…tone it down?

Imogen rests her chin on her hand as she settles in to listen to the rest of the story and, catching Laudna’s eyes, offers a small smile. Just for her, darlin’. 

With a wobbly nod—one that makes Imogen want to yank off the circlet and dive deep into Laudna’s thoughts, wade through them muck and all, hear for herself the knotted tangle of fear and nervy tension and trust she knows is causing havoc in there—Laudna launches back into her tale. 

‘Together with our dear new friend Prism–’

‘I like her,’ Zhudanna says. ‘Sensible, for one of those wizard types. Getting out there and having a go of it. Good for her.’

‘Indeed. Very sensibly, she and I harried the foul spirit with our joined magic, giving our companions time to protect the Heirophant and dragging them clear of the danger of this hungry shadow. We threw everything we had at it—flaying it of its shadow piece by piece, cracking its sallow face, until there was nothing left of it but a slug of tarred shadow that I crushed, sending it back to whence it came, into the merciless dark,’ she hisses, hand closing in a tight fist, eyes a brittle, glossy obsidian. After a moment, her intensity relents; the faint gloom in the corners of the room disperses like an audience post performance, and as it leaves, air rushes in to fill the empty space. ‘Anyway,’ she trills, ‘apparently that wasn’t the first time it had appeared there, can you believe that? The Heirophant—the elf Orym and Ashton saved—told us that they had fought it before—or was it their order that had? Hm. Don’t recall. But yes - it’s like a recurring thing. Like a bad ex turning up on their doorstep. But not a bad ex because Evithorir—’

‘Evi- Evirerth-’

‘Evithorir. I think. It was so hard to tell, it hissed a lot. Regardless, the shadow spirit, it turns out it was some, like, ancient terrible hungry fey spirit that sought to devour everything in the world, blah blah, the usual. Starting with Oma-Dua who is this - get this - equally ancient druid who buried herself in the last moments of her life in the depths of this cavern centuries ago to sustain the land around this mountain for the rest of time and took on the form of an enormous glowing green crystal…’

Laudna drifts into an odd silence and sinks back into the plush armchair, into herself, looking small and troubled. Her teeth dig well-worn trenches into her bottom lip as she loses herself in thought. 

Imogen clears her throat. ‘It’s been an awful long time since we got a proper rest, Zhudanna—d’you mind if we rest a while?’

‘Not at all, not at all. Let me move my easel, dear, and - ‘

‘No, please, don’t go to any trouble. I’ll set it aside, if that’s alright?’

‘Certainly, certainly.’

Zhudanna lets herself be distracted gracefully, pulling an old knitting project from the box by her chair. Her eyes—wrinkled, worried—linger on Laudna as Imogen helps her up from the chair, curling a gentle hand beneath each elbow. 

She looks so exhausted and Imogen is certain she’s bearing most of Laudna’s weight for her when she pulls her to her feet but she’s so fucking light it nearly has Imogen stumbling, off-balance. A dozen questions cluster behind Imogen’s teeth, on the threshold of her mind. Did you eat at all? Did you rest? Who took care of you? The thought might’ve made her jealous a month ago but now it just hurts. Laudna is too light, bordering on frail. Her hair is stringy—dirty, greasy, like its been a week since she washed it, brushed it, cared for it (for herself)—and Imogen knows the answer. Knows Laudna. She cares like caring is what keeps her alive, will drag the energy out of her own fucking marrow for everyone else and when it comes to her, she shows them something dead and dying, shows them a grinning skull. Something beyond repair, beyond need of care. 

Red flickers behind her eyes, smoulders in the cracks that split the tips of her fingers. But her hands stay gentle as Imogen helps Laudna to their old room. 

The door shuts behind them, shuts out the world. Blissful. There’s no window in here to show them the ruddy moon. There’s no crowds, no intrusive minds. No guards, no traitors, no one but the two of them. 

Laudna’s slow walk turns to a hobble. She sits at the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched. 

Giving her a little space, Imogen puts their bags at the footboard of the bed and Pate’s birdhouse on the bedside. He’s sleeping in there or pretending to be. Creepy, beloved spy. She moves the easel like she said she would, tucking it into an out of the way corner. 

‘She’s really very good, don’t you think?’

Laudna stirs. Glances over, dark eyes flicking between the easel and Imogen, and the smile she manages is a wavering thing but it holds steady at the corners. 

She’ll be alright, Imogen decides. Promises. 

‘Yes. Very talented, our Zhudanna.’ 

Her words trail off again and Imogen watches as Laudna begins to fidget, fingers twisting, tugging, pull and plucking in her lap. Was the closed room not blissful for her? Was it too crowded, with Imogen and her and all her thoughts and Delilah and now Bor’dor haunting her? Or was it as simple as the strain of her journey taking its toll? Or was it…

‘Do you regret it?’ Imogen blurts. Laudna stills. ‘The kiss, I mean. Me, kissin’ you. Because I know I asked and I know you kissed me back but if - if you got caught up in the moment or thought it’s what I want - Laud, you gotta know, it doesn’t matter to me how you care for me, I’m so - I’m so happy. So lucky. Just to have you near me. Truly.’

It takes a hell of an effort to shut up then—to bite her lip and give Laudna the room to speak. 

Her stomach flips from nerves and her traitor heart follows suit; it flips, flutters in her chest, so gentle and so warmed by the memory of getting to take Laudna’s face between her hands, getting to touch her after so long of only being able to dream about it, getting to lean in and—that kiss! The memory of it fizzles through her, sweet lightning, and it’s ridiculous, actually, because her hands start sweating and her lips tingle and her skin goes hot all over, sensitive. It’s such a silly feeling; she feels like a stumbling foal - clumsy and awkward, unsure, but so fucking eager to get up, go, explore. It’s silly - she feels silly with it, giggly and warm - and then, of course, sense reasserts itself firmly because Laudna hasn’t said anything yet—is staring over Imogen’s shoulder with a tiny, worried frown—and Imogen’s stomach sinks, veins flooding with ice. If she could just take off the circlet, but…

‘Laud?’

‘Imogen.’

‘Do you?’ It’s harder to ask the second time. ‘Do you…regret it?’

‘No,’ Laudna says in that barely-there way. Imogen wants the shadows back. Wants the intensity. Wants Laudna cackling over one of Pate’s horrendous comments, or chiding her for mussing the bedsheets. Anything but this ghost. ‘No, darling. I was - I was only thinking,’ she sighs, ‘how silly it is, how hard it is to talk about…well. About what we want.’ She blinks, dim and distant. ‘I often think that if only everyone were honest, there would be less space for misunderstanding and heartbreak –’ The words send Imogen’s heart sinking ever lower, but Laudna doesn’t seem to notice and continues, ‘– and cruelty and war and, oh, I don’t know. People wouldn’t get away with murder or inheritance trickery and such. I think about all the people who lie whenever they speak and how foolish it is and then it is my turn to speak and I…I’m terribly afraid.’

At that, Imogen crosses to sit beside Laudna on the bed. She takes one of her delicate hands in both of her own. It’s so light; bird-boned, Imogen thinks distractedly, mind cluttered with midnight-plumed ravens and the Duskmaven, of scavenging vultures and red seeping into cracked desert soil, of a canary in the dark. She hopes—as it gets harder to breathe, lungs struggling to contend with the weight of hope and panic—that Laudna won’t warn her away. 

‘You can tell me,’ Imogen says, and her words stay blessedly steady. ‘Even if you think I don’t want to hear it. I do. I do.’

For a long moment, Laudna examines their hands. Intertwined. Her own—delicate, long-fingered, pale. The dark web of stagnant veins. Imogen’s—broader, tanned, calloused. The cracked skin, red seeping out. Squeezing Imogen’s hand, Laudna says,

‘I won’t lie, darling. I won’t tell you I wasn’t surprised. I was. I am. You are—’ Dark eyes lift to meet Imogen’s; without thoughts to skim, all Imogen can see in the depths is warmth, a glittering fondness. Sorrow lurks there too, somewhere, even if she can’t see it. ‘You are extraordinary. Young and beautiful and so very alive. I - you wishing to kiss me - you understand why I might be startled. I don’t know what I can offer you, darling. I will always be at your side, of course—to protect you, to wake you from your nightmares, to support you, to - to tether you against the storm, as you said, but - ‘

‘But what?’ Imogen shakes her head with a gentle laugh. ‘Who could ask for more than that?’

‘And the kissing?’

‘We don’t have to do it again. If you don’t like it.’

Laudna tilts her head; it’s not a no, but neither is it a yes. ‘You could choose anyone—’

‘I want only you.’

‘Even though I am—’ Laudna cuts off the words with a snap of her teeth. Turns away, sending a gloomy look to the dim corners of their room. 

Imogen’s heart thuds, hard, against her ribs. She rubs at at it, sympathetic. Her bruised heart. She wants what it wants—to be close, ever closer. To hug her, hold her tight. To love her. To rip Delilah out of her—fry the bitch, burn her to ashes, and the ashes to smoke, and the smoke to nothing at all in white lightning—and then offer up her own heart to fill the lack. To welcome Laudna into the red hollow of her ribs, already wondering what kind of home she could make out of them. To take back the ruby ring and present it again, with all the ceremony Laudna deserves. To kiss her. Again and again. 

But right now, Laudna doesn’t need a storm, even one of love. She only needs Imogen to listen to her. So she asks,

‘Even though you’re what?’

Laudna’s hands curl into talons and a snarl erupts from her throat. Earlier, Imogen hadn’t known what to make of the idea that Laudna could summon a wolf but she gets it now. Hears it in that mournful, ragged sound. 

‘Dead. Broken.’ She claws at her heart. ‘Weak.’

‘No. You’re not, sweetheart, no.’

Imogen cannot resist reaching forward. She keeps her touch feather-light. Skims a high cheekbone before sliding back to the strand of dark hair that has escaped its high bun. She tucks it behind Laudna’s ear with exacting care, thumb grazing the gold ear-cuff. I see you. Every bit. Laudna’s eyes fill with inky tears and, when Imogen lifts her other hand to cradle her precious, lovely face, Laudna leans into the touch. 

For a moment, Imogen can only stare. 

There is no one in the world like Laudna—so starkly beautiful, so sweet, so enchanting. There is no one half as creative. She knows Laudna’s story—saw her die—but no one could spend an hour in Laudna’s presence and leave thinking her anything other than vibrant. How could that be death? And as for broken, well, Imogen thinks of the mosaics in Uthodurn’s royal halls, and of stained glass windows in the Dawnfather’s hall—what little she had overhead of that part of Laudna’s story—and thinks of Laudna’s mendings and crafts and the hundreds of achingly beautiful smiles Laudna has made up just for her and yes, maybe she’s been broken, but who hasn’t? How can that make her less? Less lovely, less wonderful? It doesn’t. It doesn’t. She thinks of faith and lets her pinkie slip down to touch, so gently, the ragged mark of Laudna’s first death. She thinks of destiny and meets Laudna’s eyes. 

Beautiful, she thinks, and then - because they are being truthful, because they are telling each other the truth - she says it out loud too. 

‘You’re beautiful. You’re my—‘ Imogen falters, tries to think of a word that doesn’t stick in her chest like a knife, but pushes on because her love doesn’t make her fearless, it just makes her brave. ‘My favourite.’

Her blush blooms purple under Imogen’s hands. Laudna glances down, shy, then up from under lashes dark and sticky with inky makeup, splayed like delicate spider legs. 

‘It is strange,’ Laudna says, covering Imogen’s hands with her own when she starts to pull away, worried. ‘Don’t leave, darling. Let me… Let me?’ 

Let her lean in, yes, let her press close, forehead to forehead, yes, stay so still when Laudna touches her cheek, fleeting. Laudna trembles—afraid? excited? damn this fucking circlet—but the contact settles her and when she retreats, she pulls Imogen’s hands from her cheeks but doesn’t let them go. She breathes in and out. Then says, 

‘Waking from death is much like waking from sleep, except it hurts. Only a little but all the time.’

Imogen’s fingers brush over Laudna’s wrist, where her pulse plods away. ‘Laudna,’ she whispers, not to interrupt. Only because Laudna ought never go a moment thinking she didn’t care. 

‘For all those years, even though I…I ran and built my huts and Pate too, of course, and of course I felt things—fear and loss and joy, too, sometimes—I was alive and awake but. So much of me was still dead. I was so - confused. And angry, often. I was surviving, you see. I had strength enough to hold myself together and fix things, here and there, but no more than that. I was hungry, all the time, I had so many teeth.’ Laudna searches her face. ‘And then I met you and you helped. Cared. These past years with you… It used to be that when I wanted something, it - it was hunger I felt. This endless hunger. A great pit in my chest. And it was hard to tell, you see, what it was I wanted except for everything, anything I could get my hands on. Do you understand?’

Imogen gnaws at her lip. Slowly, she shakes her head. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t.’ She dips her head, catches Laudna’s eyes. ‘Explain it to me?’

Laudna’s fingers shake as she slides them over the backs of Imogen’s hands. Long fingers curl around one of Imogen’s wrists and she lifts it to press a chaste kiss to her knuckles, lips cool against the burning ridge of her oldest lightning scar. 

‘You have given me so much. You gave me friendship and purpose and trust. Food. Fun and stories. Strength. A bed. A home. And the hunger…it doesn’t gnaw so terribly, darling. Now, when I - when I want something, it isn’t an impossible task. I needn’t lose myself in that great black pit, blinding searching for what I lack. It starts to make sense. I start to make sense. What I want. Outside of her, and hunger. You’ve given me so much,’ Laudna tells her, and her voice creaks with the weight of her words. ‘How can I possibly take more? How - selfish, how greedy it would be to want… To want.’

‘Do you want me to kiss you?’ Imogen asks, voice soft. She tries not to sound to hopeful. 

Launda holds her hands for a long time. It’s maddening, because Laudna never stays still for long; she doesn’t now either, instead stroking tiny patterns against her skin, fingers sliding over and between her own. At the occasional scratch of her nails, a frisson of electricity crackles down Imogen’s arms, through her body. Finally, Laudna nods. 

‘I do. Oh, Imogen, I do. I didn’t know it - I knew I would be content for centuries, the rest of my days, if only I could sleep in your bed, stand at your side, content with any touch or favour you might share with me. And then - to be kissed?’ A shy smile creeps across her lips. ‘Would it be terribly unfunny to say it struck me like a bolt?’

Imogen snorts. Pulls her hands free so she can shove at her—lightly, though, barely enough to make even Laudna sway. Her hands settle on the tender branching of Laudna’s collarbones. The fabric of the new dress is silk-smooth under her palms; the lace neckline, though, catches against her work-rough, scar-rough fingers. She strokes it again, entranced. It’s so soft, the lace, in its reluctance to let her go. It’s so beautiful, the whorling patterns of leaves and flowers, and the contrast of blue-black fabric against Laudna’s pale skin is enough to make her glow. And beneath lace and skin, the steady tap of Laudna’s pulse—a knock on the door, on the coffin lid, here I am. 

Beautiful. 

‘That’s dreadful,’ she scolds, wrinkling her nose. 

‘That’s me. Full of dread.’ A ghostly visage flickers across Laudna’s face, there—skin and skull shifting, FRIDA’s inspiration?—and gone. ‘And you?’ she asks. ‘You too?’

‘Full of dread?’

‘Do you wish to kiss me, I meant, actually.’

Imogen swallows harshly. ‘Yeah,’ she rasps. ‘Yeah, I do.’

A frown pinches Laudna’s forehead. ‘Have you been afflicted with this desire for long?’

‘Afflict— You say it like it’s a sickness or somethin’,’ Imogen teases, but Laudna flaps a hand for her to hurry up and tell, so she shrugs. ‘Um. Yeah. I ‘spose I’ve been wantin’ to kiss you for a while,’ she admits, cheeks burning. ‘When I could hear you, it was… Do you remember when Dusk was hangin’ around, you told me you hadn’t thought about it? Hadn’t accessed that part of your brain?’ Laudna nods. ‘I know. I knew that. Because sometimes, when we were close and you…’ 

Imogen pauses. Sucks in a breath—it’s a little stuffy in their room, no windows, but it smells of freshly laundered sheets and paint and wood polish and Laudna and Imogen lets it steady her. 

‘D’you know that you say the kindest, sweetest things sometimes? You always know what to do to calm me down or make me laugh, even when the whole world is—’ She gestures awkwardly to the south wall where the moon hovers in her minds eye. ‘You know. Going to shit. And sometimes—I wasn’t sure how much you…’ She stops again, lips twisting, frustrated. ‘I knew that you cared for me because, well, because you do.’

‘Naturally, of course.’

‘But sometimes I wondered if…if you wanted to kiss me, like I sometimes thought of doing. But when I looked into your mind, you were never thinkin’ about it so -’ Imogen shrugs, cheeks hot. ‘I never brought it up. You hardly ever thought about it when other folk were flirtin’ or talkin’ about it, so I figured it wasn’t something you wanted. And that didn’t matter to me! Just so long as you were with me, and we were together, I was happy with that. But then Dusk,’ Imogen strangles the name in her throat, hopes fiercely that Yu can feel it, wherever the fuck they might be, ‘put the idea in your head and then they…left…and you were confused and I’d sometimes catch flashes of it in your head but it didn’t feel right to bring it up, even though sometimes I thought—the way you were lookin’ at me, and not pullin’ away when I was lookin’ at you—I thought…maybe? Maybe it was - Maybe you could. Think like that. And when you died—’ Her voice cracks. ‘That wasn’t the right time either, obviously,’ she scoffs. Pulls a hand back to swipe at her eyes. 

‘Darling,’

‘It had to be your choice. All of it. Everything, after what happened. And I was fucking terrified because of all those questions in my head like if I’d be pushin’ you if I asked, or makin’ you more of a target, burdenin’ you with all this Predathos moon shit—’

‘Never. Never a burden.’

‘—and then I got this,’ Imogen taps her circlet, ‘and I couldn’t hear you anymore, couldn’t check, and so, yeah, Laudna, you could say I’ve been thinkin’ about it for a while.’

‘Thinking about,’ she says, so carefully, like she’s afraid if she speaks it too loud or too fast the whole thing will break, ‘kissing. Me.’

Imogen laughs. Smiles at her with her whole face, her whole heart. Every soft, exposed, grotesque, tender part of it. ‘Yeah, sweetheart. Is that alright?’

Laudna nods jerkily. Eyes Imogen’s mouth curiously. ‘Can I - that is, if it’s alright with you,’

‘Please,’ Imogen whispers, and she isn’t sure if she’s reading her own mind or if Laudna’s is loud enough to overpower the circlet, if she’s letting the power of it subside in her eagerness to know if Laudna wants what she wants, but it’s so clear—Laudna’s dark eyes, warm and kind and wanting; her reaching hands, aligning them hurt to hurt, heart to heart; plum lips pressing, ever so gently, against hers. 

The kiss lasts a heartbeat. Barely long enough to register the touch. Even so, Laudna flushes deeply. Touches her fingers to her mouth and breathes out, shaky. 

‘Oh. Imogen.’

Imogen lifts a hand—‘Can I? Let me, please’—to Laudna’s neck, grazing the high collar she’d been so jealous of in the store for getting to touch Laudna’s neck, but adores now as she coaxes it down so she alone can see, can touch the soft skin of her neck. Feel the way Laudna’s breath hitches when she does, her shiver as Imogen’s fingers slide forward, following the path of her jaw and swiping beneath the hinge of it—tender, awed, lingering on the mottled silver marks of bullet holes and torn skin—before she slides her fingers into the curtain of dark dark. She presses gently, guides her forward for another kiss. Her lips find the corner of Laudna’s mouth and smiles at the noise of displeasure it pulls. 

‘I think,’ Imogen whispers, kisses her more solidly. Tilts her head and loses herself in Laudna: Laudna’s nose nudging into her cheek; Laudna’s hands fluttering between her elbows and shoulders before laying gently on her back; a clumsy bump of lips, which is actually mostly chin, a giggled apology, and then something gives and Laudna’s lips are on hers again, steady and slow and careful, like they have all the time in the world, like now that she is here there is no where she would rather be. Imogen pulls back, licks her lips. Citrus bursts on her tongue. 

Laudna stares at her mouth. ‘What - ‘ She has to clear her throat, voice breathy, like Imogen has kissed all the air out of her and the thought makes want crackle beneath Imogen’s skin. ‘What do you think?’

‘Amazing. Great. Perfect.’

Dark eyes gleam. Laudna smiles—no, she smirks. ‘Darling. You were saying something, that you thought…?’

‘Oh.’ Imogen starts to speak—and has to stop. She laughs. ‘Y’know, I’ve totally forgotten?’

‘Oh.’ Laudna’s blush deepens. She’s so fucking pretty. ‘It will come back to you. If it’s important.’ She fidgets. Reaches out a hand to touch Imogen’s elbow, her knee. She looks for a moment as if she is about to speak but then a calm settles over her and she only smiles and nods. ‘Do you mind, dearest, if I take a little time to fix the birdhouse? Only Pate said it’s dreadfully uncomfortable and I think - if I add some soft cushion fabric, maybe curtains - I can fix the place up for him.’

Imogen nods. She understands—and could do with a minute to calm down too. She crawls around Laudna up to the headboard, props herself up against it. 

Laudna frowns. ‘Really? Boots on the bed?‘

She smiles, closes her eyes. ‘It’ll be alright, I’ll magic the dirt away after.’

‘It’s the principle of the thing,’ Laudna insists. After a few moments of Imogen ignoring her, Laudna sets aside the birdhouse and begins to unbuckle Imogen’s boots. Imogen watches, thoughts far too chaotic to pin down. It doesn’t take long—Laudna has helped her before, when migraines stopped her from doing just about anything—and she pats Imogen’s shin, tuts at the unhappy state of her socks, and mends the hole by her big toe with a needle and thread of black shadow. It looks good as new when she is done. 

‘There,’ Imogen drawls, snuggling down into the pillow at her back. ‘What would I do without you?’

Laudna laughs. ‘You’d wear boots in bed and put your cups upside down on the shelves–’

‘First of all, I’m right about that and second of all,’ she nudges Laudna with her toe, ‘I never wanna find out.’

She smiles and, oh, Imogen thinks, Dawnfather, eat your heart out. You don’t know light like this. You couldn’t make a light like hers if you had a thousand solstices. 

//

They spend a lazy afternoon together. They don’t kiss again—Laudna is far too intent on her work, and Imogen merely watches her and allows time and proximity to ease the tight, grating knot of nerves in her chest that had built with every moment of Laudna’s absence. She asks easy questions and retreads old, familiar jokes and stories, and everything resettles. In some ways, it is as it has always been. It’s the two of them, together. It’s also new in a way that makes Imogen’s heart flutter every time she remembers; I kissed her, I can kiss her. 

‘Pate,’ Laudna croons, as she takes apart old clothes and blankets, stitches them into cushions for the interior of the birdhouse. ‘Come out, come out, wherever you are,’ she sings, and the rat-bird clambers out of his wooden house and up her arm, waits until she’s packed the cushions into place to skitter back inside, taking pride of place in the decadence. ‘What do you think of your new ho-ome?’ It’s so fucking weird. They both are. Imogen has to get closer to her. Tucks a foot under Laudna’s knee—who beams at her, wraps a chilly hand around her ankle and keeps her close—and makes a note to kiss Pate on top of his awful little skull soon. Just because. ‘What do you think? Will this be more comfortable?’

‘It’s nice!’ he croaks, little paws patting walls and floor. ‘I do have a suggestion, though—’

‘What! You’ve only been alive for a few months, what could you possibly know about decorating?’ she demands, aghast. 

Pate flies from the house, landing on the roof. There are no eyes in his bird skull but Imogen swears he rolls them anyway. ‘Pfft! What don’t I know? I’m the whole package, you know. Bird brains and rat cunning, fanks very much.’

‘Fine, then, if you’re so smart! What’s your suggestion?’

‘Curtains.’

‘Curtains?’

‘Curtains. For, you know, setting the mood, or sleeping in the day. Or if you two need a little, heh, private time to lock lips—’

‘Alright, yes, fine!’ Laudna yelps. ‘I’ll make you some damn curtains!’

Pate chuckles. His wings peel open with a wet squelch that Imogen is never going to get used to—how could he be wet, he’s been dead for years, that’s what she wants to know—and he takes off with one, two laborious flaps of his wings, gliding down to the bed covers and scampering back into his now-comfortable home. ‘Thank ye kindly,’ he calls out from within.

Laudna grumbles as she pulls together curtains rather quickly, delving in her pack for supplies. She pulls out shards of metal–splinters, almost, but as long as her palm. 

‘What’re those?’ Imogen asks, as she tries to bully the pillow under her head into a more comfortable shape. 

‘Hm? Oh - one of Ashton’s climbing pitons. It shattered.’

The pillow refuses to be comfortable; Imogen gives up, gets up to search the room for wherever the other pillow went. She finds it, after a while, on the top shelf of the little linen closet and jumps for it before remembering she knows telekinesis. How in the nine hells Zhudanna even got it up there, she has no clue. Wandering back to the bed, Imogen watches over Laudna’s shoulder for a minute as she crafts. 

‘You went climbing?’

‘When we were separated, that’s where we landed,’ Laudna says. ‘On a cliffside. Jagged rocks, Steam vents. Now that I think about it, we were rather lucky, actually, that we didn’t appear in the air above a sharp spike or roll off the cliff. But yes, we had to climb,’ she says, and tells Imogen all about it— finding Deni$e - Mona, at the time—and the climb and the endless valley of verdant trees. 

Imogen listens carefully, heart heavy. She thinks of a long, cold walk and finding truly kind friends at the end of it - a celestial bull they befriended - shopping - the warmth and bustle and commerce and, yes, anxiety, of Uthodurn, and meeting royalty—and she thinks of Laudna, who dislocates something whenever she sneezes, having to pull herself up a cliffside. She rubs Laudna’s shoulder and dips her head, presses a kiss there on her back—because she can, because she wants to, because Laudna wants it too. Laudna hums, a happy sound. 

‘I’m sorry you ended up there.’

‘It wasn’t all bad. It was rather beautiful. I would have enjoyed it, I think, if you had been there.’

‘Maybe we’ll go together someday.’

Laudna smiles. Affixes one of the piton curtain-rods into place as Pate guides her—’Higher, higher on the left - other left - all of it lower now - perfect!’

‘I think Ashton will want to go back.’

‘Oh?’

‘There was something of the Hishari there - a town. Cursed now, apparently. He wants answers.’

‘Then that’s what we’ll do,’ Imogen agrees. ‘Kill the moon, then go on holiday to a cursed town in Issylra. Sounds nice.’

//

‘You were right, by the way,’ Imogen says later, as they walk back from the Windowed Wall to their friends. 

‘Of course I was.’ Laudna beams across at her, tone bright, teasing; it’s such a shift from her mood of the morning that Imogen can do nothing but smile back at her. ‘About what, though?’

‘You said if it was important, I’d remember what I was gonna say. And I remember now.’’ Imogen wraps her arm through Laudna’s, pulls her in tight. There aren’t many people crowding the street but she doesn’t need an excuse to hold her close anymore. ‘You know, the thought you kissed right outta my head?’ 

‘Imogen!’ Laudna slaps her hand lightly, but her eyes gleam. Imogen thinks she might be pleased by the idea of driving her to distraction. ‘Well, go on then. What was it?’

‘You asked if I’d been thinking about it for a long time. Kissin’ you. I was gonna say, I think I’ll never get it outta my head. I’m gonna be thinkin’ about kissing you forever. If that’s alright with you.’

Laudna’s chin lifts - proud, pleased by the idea, clearly - and she gains what could only be called a strut. Her cheeks colour faintly. ‘I’ll be thinking about it too.’ Her eyes glitter brightly over a sweet smile. ‘After all, you’re very capable,’ she teases, and laughs, delighted, at the blush her words pull from Imogen. 

They’re still smiling when they rejoin their friends. It earns them strange looks, but fond, relieved. No one pries—though Ashton has a stare like a crowbar—and they say nothing, for now. 

[ilanarose7]

Bells Hells Episode 95 Morning After Thoughts

SPOILERS BELOW!!! (This has become a weekly thing for me to help digest the episodes and I'm probably gonna keep doing it. really helps with my episode memory as well)

New favorite Campaign 3 episode unlocked!!!! The title of this episode has been released on Beacon (I won't spoil that), but I will personally be referring to it as "Shopping and Shipping" in my own head. It just had the perfect amount of everything and felt so incredibly cathartic (then stressful in the best way) after everything that's happened in recent episodes.

Let's break it down:

The Essek v Astrid verbal showdown!!! Essek appears to hold all the grudges that Caleb doesn't (or at least didn't really at the end of M9). When Astrid dropped the "Ludinus has an itch in the back of his neck" lore I was thinking back to when they first learned more about the harness and someone (I think it was either Marisha or Laura) wrote in their notes "We cut off Ludinus's head!!!" that was later read aloud. After that convo, that action seems like a decent play. That or maybe the Cadeuces-style Dispell Magic to the back of the neck. (side note: of course Fearne bought the Vasselheim version of the Kama Sutra 😂)

NEW CLOTHES FOR EVERYONE!!! We know there's new Dorian art waiting to be released since he rejoined the party, but everyone is getting an Aeor-ready makeover! It makes perfect sense, but I was still thrown off by the level of outfit upgrades and am so excited for the art!

Pumat is BACK! Well, his Simulacrum are at least. I don't care, just hearing that voice made me so happy. And also Dorian giving all his money to Orym so he can buy the armor? So what if I was squealing?

Downtime at the Cabaret ❤️ The Imodna kiss as Laudna went back upstairs. The Callowmoore flirting leads to Ashton, for the first time in a LONG time, successfully pick-pocketing Fearne. Dorian and Chetney banter back in full swing. Fearne leaving the EXU group hug to give Dorym a moment together. going back slightly but Iva Deshin made Bells Hells clock that YES, YOU ALL DO GIVE OFF POLYAMOROUS VIBES! So many character moments that have been needed in such a plot-heavy story

Ashton shows their head off to Essek! I have been waiting for this for sooooo long!!! Allura had given some answers, but talking more about how Dunamancy and the Assembly's manipulation of Dunamis has played a role in everything going on. While the cast know this info out of character, its good that they finally can do so in character as well

Laudna, Delilah, and the Sword-Shaped Elephant in the Room. Well, damn. First off, the acting in this last hour or so was AMAZING!! Also incredibly demonstrative of the level of trust at the table. Now to talk about the moment itself. The line between Laudna and Delilah has been getting blurrier and last night I don't think Marisha even knew fully where Laudna ended and Delilah began. The cast and many insightful Critters have been comparing Laudna to an addict and last night is an incredible example. The way Laudna handled it was wrong, this could have been a conversation rather than an initial attack. But was Laudna or Delilah the one making those choices? Or being manipulated into them? In the moment, the calm approach the group tried to take was the right one, but honestly, Laudna needs a harsher talking-to like what Chetney did with Ashton post-shard incident. Taliesin on 4SD said that's what saved Ashton from leaving the group. It might be something that, other than Imogen's love, may be enough of a wake-up call to help her break away from her Delilah-induced magic addiction

TLDR: The whole episode was full of amazing moments that were cathartic, informative, tense, and heartwarming. THE PERFECT BELLS HELLS EPISODE! again, that's just my opinion. I'd love to hear what everyone else thought too!

[sparring-spirals]

I really loved the detail of Ashton telling Orym, I think its finally time I start thinking about my situation. I think its finally time I really start considering it. Because there's something so deeply poignant about it. Just last episode, Ashton told Laudna, I thought I knew what anger was, but maybe it was just decades of self pity? Im angry now.

There's something to be said about doing what you need to do to get by, to make it, to keep running. There's something to be said about doing what's needed to keep functioning. But it is different from actually diving into it. There is a difference between making it through your life and processing it.

Ashton, throughout the campaign, has been, yes, determined, yes, emphatic, yes, angry and prone to rages. But they've also been resigned, in so many ways. They say to leave people with their last copper, they laugh when people act in their own self interest, they get into fights and check if people are watching. They proclaim truths about the world- about how people are awful, about how you need to be kind where you are, about how people always cut and run, about how the world often hits when you're down and not all of it was incorrect, but the defining factor was always the resignation. The sureness. The way it was delivered in the tone of- this is how I have known the world. Its not going to change. this is how i've survived, and now i pass it on, unchanging, solid, certain. of course this is how it is.

(They've been dealt a shit hand. They can never get a better one. They're in debt, and are probably not going to get out. They were left behind. They maybe always will be.)

But everything is changing. A lot of it for the worse, but- everything. Everything. Maybe, even him.

He's unsure, now. He's angry, now. In a different way than before. And that means something. That they're thinking, they're pushing, they're wondering. Not just for the world, but for themselves. Reconsidering. The way they viewed the world kept them alive, its what weathered them through everything before. It was important. but now- now- its about more than survival. More than getting by.

They're thinking about their situation. They're stopping, pausing, to think, not just moving faster than the world can catch up, even if it will hurt.

It is not comfortable, it is not easy, its not fun.

But Ashton knows discomfort. There are times where it's worth it, where its good, even.

Ashton says: I think its time I think about my situation, and listen, that matters.

[inconmess]

I've been building up this post for quite a while so I think everything in this post is kinda out of order and looks like a bit of a big word vomit... So sorry in advance. Also since it is kinda longer than I realise, I am putting it under the cut. And I am open to any discussion.

(Personally think I may have gotten a few things wrong and if so, please correct me?)

I think the thing about Orym and grief is... A part of him has never let himself grieve his loss properly. He has accepted that they are dead and will never come back, yes. He makes it a point to live up to them everyday, yes. But acceptance is not the same as grief, it is a part of it but not the same.

And this was an interesting discussion I was having with my friends and I feel that it strikes so true here, is the fact that you remember the worst moments of your life more vividly than the happiest moments because in your happy moments, you don't question what happened to you as much as you question your worst moments in life.

And Orym has lived with that question for six years. Now, the same could be said to Ashton and Imogen and Fearne and the rest of the Bells Hells really but as pointed out in this post by @caeslxys. (a really good pot btw) Even though the others have had their questions as to why a particular bad incident happened, Orym has had the shortest time to actually cope with it while for the others, it has been years at this point and maybe they have sort of come to peace with most of their shit before it came back to hit them in their face. And for some, it just hit them recently.

And for Orym the question of "Why?" resurfaces again and again the more he seeks out answers and when he does get the answer... I don't think anyone would really love to learn that the two most important people in their lives were dead because "it was just collateral damage. They didn't really have to die but they did." Not when you were having a happy, peaceful life. They signed up for this, yes. But it is also not fair to have your whole life cut short just because a big shot wants to test a theory.

And I am not trying to say that Orym bringing up his losses every time they have a discussion about the Vanguard is right or wrong because he has every right to and may be wrong at the same time because he is biased. Because at this point, he is very biased.

Apart from what I mentioned above, Orym watched Otohan kill his husband and father. He fought Otohan again and this time lost his life, Fearne and Laudna. He fights Otohan again and nearly loses Keyleth. Fights Otohan again a fourth time and knows that there would've been more losses if FCG hadn't sacrificed themselves. Not to forget Otohan killing Eshteross, something I think Orym internally blames himself for because she read his mind for the information. And even if Otohan is now dead, the loss stays.

I also think that seeing Will when he died had more of a personal impact than he realised because I know while seeing the dead person can sometimes bring some comfort, at the same time, when you are trying to live up to them, trying to answer questions that are just beyond you when you really haven't had the chance to completely grieve and accept, the grief possibly just hits you more.

SO while the Hells have had their personal losses with the Vanguard and Otohan, I think Orym has had the longest beef with the group among them all. He didn't know about the Vanguard 6 years ago, yes. He discovered their name along with the rest of the Hells. But loss wise, Orym was the first of the lot to suffer due to the Vanguard.

This is not me trying to put an exact scale or measurement of the loss cuz it is intangible and stuff. But he's been dealing with it for 6 years. Maybe not for harbouring revenge, but the resentment hasn't completely gone but rather festered the more he seeked answers. So he is going to be extra jaded.

But not to forget the fact that up until Bordor, he did try to see the Vanguard's point too, still kinda does (the locket he took from a Vanguard member as a reminder) but I think by the time of Bordor's betrayal, he's had too many losses with the Vanguard to actually care of their point of view because all he's seen of their group is innocent people getting killed or almost killed for no reason at all.

Bordor's beef as a person from the Vanguard had been against Laudna, Orym and Ashton but he still nearly killed Prism and would've probably marked it off as collateral if she'd died. Dropping off the locket with Bordor doesn't mean that he left all his empathy but at the same time, like he mentions, they are at war. And war doesn't really discriminate amongst people. It just takes.

Like he said to Imogen, I think he still tries to believe the Vanguard can have some people who are good and not all of them are evil but all he's know from the Vanguard at this point is loss and Liliana's blind faith towards Ludinus or Predathos doesn't help.

So back to the recent episode.

Do I think that it is wrong for Orym to bring up to Liliana about his dead family as an answer to her response. No. Do I think it was a wrong time to bring it up? Maybe. Because Liliana was not being confrontational but Orym was turning confrontational the more the discussion happened.

But the thing about Orym saying it to her face is that... It is one thing to know that there have been deaths and even if Liliana didn't directly cause it, she was a part of the group that did and brush it off as collateral damage. And no one does a census or survey post the "collateral damage" on how it affects the other person because now, they have what they want to there is no use to go back there.

And Orym is kinda like that mirror which is like... "SO you had a loss because of the gods and now are going around leaving collateral damage you want to fix stuff? Guess what? Your collateral damage was my life that you just uprooted just like the gods/god people did yours, so are you really any different from the people you hate and the change you want to bring about?" (which is kinda the parallel between Orym and Bordor I find really interesting because this is a cycle that is never ending at the end of the day)

And did Orym need that outlet? Hells yeah. GIVE THAT MAN A HUG!

[sea-buns]

I understand not wanting your party members to walk into a lake and drown themselves but also Laudna has the fuckin WORST bedside manner lol. Yes, your much-needed long rest was just interrupted in a creepy abandoned town where you know weird charm-shit happened and the LAST thing you need right now is for anyone to lose focus. But also "Can you not wait? You can wait 5 minutes." talking to someone who has waited months and doesn't know if their loved one is even ALIVE and has confessed to you how much he misses them and how much it hurts and they could be outside breathing alive right now—

And on the surface, it looks like Chet is enabling a bad decision when he says "You probably heard Dorian. He's probably outside." and yeahh, okay, maybe he is a little bit. But right after that he's about to protest with something about Orym and it's like yeah. ORYM said he heard something. When has there been a time when ORYM heard something, and it wasn't real? How many times has Orym heard something and it's saved our asses? Before Chet is being hit with his own need to check out the lake, he's giving Orym the benefit of the doubt. And while he is an enabler by nature, he's keeping his voice soft rather than his usual, over-the-top "let's fuck around and find out" energy that he brings to dangerous situations like this.

You can't have everyone in the group treating a dilemma with the same amount of sympathy and care. What makes the BH so fascinating to watch is the variation in responses and different ways they interact with each other. You need a balance of someone who will take the cold, unyielding stance against something that is so obviously a trap, and someone that is aware of the risks but willing to speak up for that person and humor them when they're so clearly struggling.

I have a lot of feelings about Laudna and Chetney's instinctual responses and I think both stances are fascinating and they've both shattered my heart to pieces

[towards-toramunda]

Back on my BUT WHAT IF PREDATHOS IS A GOOD OR NEUTRAL ENTITY HUH????

WHAT THEN???????????

WHAT IF LUDINUS IS ONLY TRYING TO RELEASE PREDATHOS SO HE CAN USE HIS MORE ADVANCED HARNESS THAT HES HAD HUNDREDS OF YEARS TO DEVELOP TO EAT THE GOD EATER AND THEN HE’LL BE ABLE TO EAT THE GODS????????????????????????

WHAT IF THE BELL’S HELLS DISCOVER THAT PREDATHOS EATS GODS “NOT BECAUSE OF MALICE, NOT BECAUSE OF MURDEROUS INTENT, BUT BECAUSE SOME THINGS HAVE TO EAT AND SOME THINGS HAVE TO BE EATEN” (QUOTE FROM MATT MERCER IN EPISODE 71 WHEN THEY WERE IN THE SHATTERED TEETH THAT I HAVE NOT BEEN ABLE TO STOP THINKING ABOUT)??????????????????????

ALL CAMPAIGN WE’VE SEEN THE GOOD SIDE OF “BAD GUYS” LIKE WITH NANA MORRI OR THE NIGHTMARE KING OR BOR’DOR OR EVEN THE PCS THEMSELVES LIKE THEY’RE ALL TEXTBOOK VILLAIN NPCS (except orym thats my father right there)

WHAT IF THAT WAS ALL TO LEAD US TO PREDATHOS ACTUALLY BEING A FINE DUDE??????

Okay but all caps is hurting my eyes so lets discuss:

- we haven’t seen predathos and presumably they’re either asleep or in some sort of dormant state and have been since nearly the beginning of recorded history so there is no record of their form, true power, personality, etc. all we know is they (presumably, but lets be real yes they did) ate two gods

- Predathos was said to create “twisted life” but so far what we’ve seen from the life on Ruidius is just… *different* life. Red and spindly and alien, but not necessarily bad. Yes we’ve seen some reilorans siding with ludinus in the fight near the lava a few episodes back, but we also know that reliorans called by imogen have to do what she says so how do we actually know these ones were working on their own volition/weren’t misguided like bor’dor was?

- Quite a few times in this campaign we’ve been shown the theme that bad things are often not evil or malicious, (and evil things can be useful shoutout to Teven Klask). As mentioned earlier and by many people throughout this campaign: these PCs are easily the villain NPCs in any other dnd campaign

- When they went to the shattered teeth Matt said “You are uncertain who is who, but you get the sense that many innocent creatures have met their end in this land violently, not because of malice, not because of murderous intent, but because some things have to eat and some things have to be eaten.” And ever since I heard him say that I keep wondering if THAT is gonna be who predathos is! Because gods may meet their end to predathos violently, not because of malice, but because *some things have to eat and some things need to be eaten*

- And NOW with the introduction of ludi’s old harness and seeing just how powerful and dangerous it is I absolutely think that Ludinus has been working on a new one since he left molaesmyr and my *theory* is that he’s only trying to release predathos so he can suck in his power (maybe he’ll be the one controlling imogen’s powers then and YIKE) and have the ability to devour the gods/become one himself.

- Imagine how JUICY and INTERESTING it’d be if the hell’s realize that predathos is actually not a bad being, but a being who has been treated badly and then BAMB LUDINUS COMES IN WITH AN UPDATED HARNESS AND SUCKS HIS POWERS INTO HIMSELF?? HOW BATSHIT WOULD THAT BE?????? LIKE??????? COME ON

(This is all speculation I hate when I speculate on this hellsite and someone claims I’m trying to pretend I have a crystal ball that can see into the future with 100% certainty: I’m trying to have fun calm down)

[flurry-of-beaus-pop-pop]

Literally the ONLY reason Orym pushed Imogen in the way he did was because Liam misunderstood what Imogen was saying when she said she couldn't do this.

He thought that Imogen was talking about not completing this mission at all, that she wanted to turn around and head home, hence his response stating just that.

The second he realized what Imogen was actually saying (i.e. that she didn't want to push deeper), he said he didn't mean that.

It was literally a moment of misunderstanding.

That being said... even if it was Orym's legitimate intention to attempt to push her to give in to that urge, it's still not an issue.

Nobody is forcing Fearne or forcing Imogen to do something they don't want to do. Nobody is holding them down or threatening them or doing any of the other components present in "forcing someone to do something".

What members of the party are doing, however, are trying to convince other members of the party to do things they might not want to do because even though they might not want to do it, it's what's needed.

Every member of this party, in my opinion, long ago accepted there is a good chance that they aren't coming out on the other side of this and they have all agreed that they would do whatever it takes to stop whatever is happening.

That's what these conversations are.

Yes, the shard could have gone to anyone in the party besides Ashton from a game mechanic, but it was also clearly meant for Fearne and it was decided that it should go to Fearne and so they pushed, because there was this item clearly meant for her and it was ehat was needed to have a chance at completing the task.

Yes, Imogen 100% has the choice to not give in to her Ruidus powers, but of course the party is going to push her to do it because it's possibly what they need to survive.

This isn't just a group of friends, hanging out, having a good time. This is a group of friends that for whatever reason have inherited the power to potentially stop the end of the world and have all agreed to do whatever it takes, even if whatever it takes is attempting to push friends to do things they may not want to do because that thing can be the difference between the world ending and the world not ending

[hiyaluronic]

*whispers* what if a certain lvl 20 hot!boi failed his wisdom save?

"Yes, well, we must make haste then." Essek stated, clearing his throat to shake free the unease he was feeling. "Ludinus is one thing, but a demon of such design that prays on the fears and self-loathing of individuals is not quite what I had in mind for this excursion, I'm afraid."

"But it's powering the engine and killing people, shouldn't we, y'know do something?"

Ashton sighed and leaned against his hammer, pointedly staring at Imogen. "It's a grand demon that's been here since before fuck all. I doubt it’s going to matter if it stays chained to an engine for another year or fifty."

"Ash is right." Orym started ignoring Ashtons interjected 'Thank You' "Besides, anything that stalls Ludinus, however good or bad at the moment, is unfortunately a help to us right now."

"I... I guess," Imogen sounded conflicted turning from Orym to stare off to the side where Chetney and Dorian had been affected, "but once Ludinus is dealt with we should probably come back and take care of it."

Essek nodded in agreement. "A problem for another day then."

'And such is your nature to always run. Why?'

His hand was halfway to the pocket of his robes when he heard the whisper. Essek closed his eyes with a quiet sigh.

A hand ran gently across his back, delicate fingers tapping against his shoulders before seeming to settle on the gentle curve of his neck. 'Do you not wish to see the fruits of our research? After all, I have you to thank for everything that I have been able to achieve.'

"We should go. Now." Essek stressed and opened his eyes only to see Caleb in the middle of the room, his form taught against the imaginary bonds that held him in place. Essek swallowed hard when he caught sight of the deep purple bruises that shadowed the white of Caleb's neck. Bells Hells was nowhere to be seen.

Shit.

'If it wasn't for this one here...' Ludinus grinned from his periphery, fingers twisting in the air at the same time Caleb buckled, the man forced to his knees with a grunt.

'Such a thorn in my side.'

Caleb choked, blood beginning to trickle from his nose, his lips strained to form soundless words, his bloodshot eyes pleading with Essek.

"This is not real." It was not, it couldn't be, he refused to fall for whatever horrid illusion that had been thrust upon him. Caleb was safe. The man had said as much himself just the day before. "You will not get what you want from me."

'You think this to be an illusion?' Essek winced when he felt the hot breath of Ludinus burn against the shell of his ear. 'Some perfunctory grand play of a fiend wanting to eat up all those tasty little demons that call that anxiety riddled head of yours home?' Ludinus laughed, 'You aren't as important as you seem to think in the grand scheme of things Thelyss. Your life is nothing but misstep after misstep.'

Essek watched while Ludinus stepped from him and moved to stand before Caleb. He tried to ignore the way the vile mans hand traced delicately down Caleb's cheek smearing blood across pale skin before gently caressing Caleb's lips.

He clenched his hands. This wasn't real, no matter how convincing the stage set before him seemed to be; but, if so, then why did his chest hurt and his breath catch?

'Everything you touch eventually tarnishes.''

Essek grinned, "Then it is good that you are something that has had the pleasure of my acquaintance. It means you yourself are doomed to corrode and rust. That is if any of this was real and not just desperate parlor tricks."

Ludinus laughed and turned to meet Essek's gaze, the man's eyes bright even in the dim light of the room. 'You still think this to be fake? Some sort of set dressing? Why do you think your precious human was so desperate for you to get to Aeor with these hooligans?'

Essek clenched his eyes closed, his fingers twitched. Caleb had been hurried in his explanation that he guide Bells Hells through Aeor but nothing had seemed amiss. Caleb had even promised him that he was fine but that he was unfortunately indisposed at the moment; but, like a worm burrowing into a rotting apple, doubt began to slither into Essek's consciousness.

What if Caleb had been sending him a plea for help in his rushed sending? Had he maybe missed something in their nightly talks? Had he been so foolish and lost in the wonders of their relationship that he'd missed some minute detail in the soft words of Caleb's assurances? It wouldn't be the first time he'd made a mess of things.

Caleb screamed and Essek's eyes shot open with a snarl. He swung his hands up and cast gravity fissure; a black mass hurtled forward ten feet to the right of Ludinus cracking the ground and pulling the hanging bodies from their chains. Ludinus gave a yell of surprise as both he and Caleb were pulled towards the center of the fissure.

The air was heavy in the room, pungent and sweet reminiscent of meadow after a rainstorm. "Caleb?" He winced at how loud his voice echoed in the quiet of the room.

Silence returned his call. Maybe he had misjudged the distance? What if he'd hurt Caleb beyond the point of healing? "Caleb!"

He moved quickly, "Caleb, you must answer me!"

He had been just mere feet from the still bodies of Caleb and Ludinus when something grabbed his ankle and pulled. Essek turned hand poised to attack only to falter when a familiar set of eyes looked up to him, the face distorted and bloated in death but still recognizable.

No it couldn't be, "Verin?"

'You left. They came and you had gone. I suffered your fate.'

"No. No you were safe, I made sure-"

Verin grinned, skin stretched taught, bloated and soured. 'A life taken for deeds done. Even if it was not the accused, retribution was sought.' A rattling breath escaped Verin. 'Why do you think you've been safe for all these years? I fell for crimes that were not my own, you killed me. You stole my future from me, brother.'

'You've doomed us all, Schatz.'

Essek turned from his brother to see Caleb, eyes dull, face stained red and kneeling in supplication. "Caleb, I..."

Ludinus, eyes alight with euphoria, slowly stood from the wreckage, his mangled form towering over Caleb's before resting a hand on Caleb's shoulder. 'The war of Ash and Light will be nothing compared to what Predathos will unleash and we all have you to thank.'

He looked at Caleb's tearful eyes and felt his own well in sympathy. "That's not..."

'Fuck, you'e truly made a mess of everything.'

"Beauregard?" Essek whispered confused. Where had she come from?

'You know how to stop this.' Beau grinned and brought her hands up to form a circle with a knowingly smile. 'Boom.'