#one-sided imodna

[sylvanfreckles]

No. 22: Stumbling

Part 22 of Deck the Hells

Fandom: Critical Role Rating: G Warnings: none

Summary: "Dorian! Stop pining and get back in the fight!" (Read on AO3)

(I will freely admit, this was inspired by a short reblog exchange with @sidleyparkhermit when they mentioned bringing Dorian back with the Orym love triangle unresolved, which made me cackle like the madwoman I am and plot this little tale. Also we decided the Dorian/Orym/Ashton throuple is called Earth, Wind, and Fighter.)

...

Zephra.

The wind blew around them, but the sun was warm above. The scents of Spring—cherry blossoms and rain, new leaves and fresh soil—surrounded them.

In his hammock, Dorian closed his eyes and let the peace seep into his bones. Orym was a warm weight on his chest, head tucked under Dorian’s chin as he slept. It was nice to be here, after everything. After Dorian’s travels had ended, after Orym’s answers were found, after all they’d been through. Just to exist here, in this soft, warm space between them.

He risked a peek at Orym, smiling at the halfling’s sleeping face. To be here…to be together…it was the closest he’d come to paradise.

A cherry blossom petal landed on Orym’s cheek, and Dorian lifted a hand to brush it away. The motion woke him, and he lifted his head to blink sleepy eyes up at Dorian.

“Everything’s all right,” Dorian murmured. He ran a hand through Orym’s hair, across his shoulders. “Go back to sleep.”

“Not sleepy,” Orym protested, even as he laid his head back down. His arms tightened around Dorian’s middle; feet tangled with his knees.

“Of course you’re not,” Dorian laughed. “Not sleepy at all.”

Orym lifted his head again, lips pursed in a frown. It was utterly, completely adorable, and Dorian couldn’t help but pull Orym closer and…

“Dorian!”

Imogen’s voice in his head pulled him out of the dream. He rolled, off his bedroll into the mud, clumsily stumbling to his feet. “Wha-what? What’s happening?”

“We’re under attack!”

He blinked furiously, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The pleasant warmth of the dream was replaced by the harsh reality of life on the road, camping in this cursed jungle. Imogen, a few feet away, was trying to rouse the others while Orym and Ashton fought…

Oh…

That was a two-headed owlbear.

Dorian pulled his scimitar free and sprinted forward to deflect one large, clawed paw before it could smash Laudna. “You okay?”

“Thank you, Dorian,” Laudna panted. She was scrabbling backward on her hands and knees, which was a little horrifying to watch.

He shifted around to block another strike from the creature as Laudna hurried away to a safer distance, then risked carving a long slash up its leg. It roared in pain and swung at him, and he had to dodge back to avoid the blow.

Where were the others? Fresh Cut Grass was tending to Chetney, Imogen had woken Fearne, and Orym and Ashton were fighting together on the owlbear’s other side.

Orym and Ashton…

He watched for a moment as the two of them moved smoothly around each other in battle. Ashton feinted with his hammer, and Orym effortlessly spun around him to catch the owlbear across the face with his blade. It was smooth, practiced…the motions of two people who’d fought countless battles together.

“Dorian!” Imogen screamed into his head. “Stop pining and get back in the fight!”

“I wasn’t pining!” he shouted back, charging back in with his scimitar. He wasn’t…really…all he wanted was for Orym to be happy.

Orym, who had leapt onto the head of Ashton’s hammer, which they spun around in a wide arc before flinging him into the air. He arced over the owlbear, then shot a vine out from his shield hand to wrap around the creature’s neck and pull him towards it, blade out, at lightning speed.

The blade struck true, the beast roaring in pain. Ashton gave a shout of excitement, the glass in their head sparking in rainbow colors, as they swung their hammer in an upward arc to catch the owlbear under one of its chins.

“Dorian!”

He cursed, yanking the diamond from his breastplate to spin up a chromatic orb and fling it at the owlbear’s other head. He barely paid attention to the hit, already darting along the beast’s length to strike at its back legs.

Ashton was laughing at something, and Orym replied—too quiet for Dorian to hear. He cut at one of the back legs, trying to cut through to a tendon, but his scimitar just bounced off of tough hide and muscle. The beast kicked out, catching Dorian across the chest and flinging him back into a tree. He let out a groan as his head bounced off the graying bark, shoving himself back up to his feet to stumble back into battle.

There seemed to be little left to do. Chetney had rejoined the fight, chisel in each hand. Fearne was throwing handfuls of fire. Laudna, shadows sprouting from her fingertips, sent twin spirals of purple energy to carve through the owlbear’s second head, sending it crumpling to the jungle floor.

Dead.

“Dorian!” Orym, leaping off the back of the owlbear, jogged toward him with a worried smile. “Hey, you okay?”

“What, me?” Dorian asked lamely. “Oh, oh no…no, I’m good. I’m. I’m good. Good.”

Orym frowned, staring up at him. “Did you hit your head.”

“Well, you know how hard my head is,” Dorian tried to joke, laughing a little too brightly. “That was some move you pulled. With-with Ashton. And the hammer.”

“Oh!” Orym’s face relaxed, a smile breaking through. “Yeah, we’ve been working on that for a little bit. Sometimes it pays off to be a little guy, right?”

“Well, you would know!” Dorian thumped Orym on the shoulder, then winced at his words. “Not that…I didn’t mean…I just said…”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m great. Mm-hm. Great.”

“Well…all right. I’m gonna check on the others.”

“Give them my regards,” Dorian called after him. Which was stupid. He just had to walk ten feet and he’d be able to see the others for himself.

“Coward.” Imogen, in his head again.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he shot back.”

“Oh, please. You’re pining so hard I can sense it without using my powers.”

“That’s not true!” he blustered. In his head. Gods, he couldn’t even get out a sentence in his head.

“Dorian, just tell him how you feel.”

He whirled around to glare at her across the camp. “Like you’re one to talk.”

She straightened up, eyes cold. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Dorian smirked. “Laudna?” he called out loud, jogging toward the dark-haired woman, ignoring the death glare from the lavender-haired one. “Wasn’t Imogen spectacular just now?”

[maluspumilaa]

oh lgbtq community weve got a big storm coming

au tag

[uiuishii]

This is what I love about dnd. All is just natural, the characters and their relationships have the time to evolve through the story. I love Imodna being best friends to lovers ! Instead of """"""best friends"""""""" *sapphic wink* to lovers. Because these things happen.

[queerpuff]

The thing I love the most about the imogen x laudna relationship is the huge amounts of potential it has. It can really go any way and I genuinely look forward to seeing which way Laura and Marisha take it and I'll be happy either way.

On one hand, it could be queer-platonic / soulmates. A fantastic representation of two women who were shunned and ostracised for their differences, and found solace in each other's company. Life companions who love each other without remorse and provide each other with the love and reassurance they never received.

There's the potential of heart-breaking one-sided romance. I do believe Imogen has romantic feelings for Laudna on some level (let me have this ok), whereas there's not *much* pointing towards the opposite. It's clear Laudna loves Imogen a lot, but it's it seems more platonic and almost familial in some way. I can already anticipate the heartbreak - Imogen confessing her feelings, finally, after months of bottling it up - to find out that Laudna simply doesn't see her that way. It would be quite interesting to see that portrayed.

Finally, it could be mutually romantic, and it could blossom into a beautiful story of soulmates who realise they're in love with each other. The love they share is so tender and intimate, so personal and so vulnerable, that the lines are already blurred. They realise at their own time and finally confess after a while of bottling it up, scared of losing their friendship, but once they do it feels like home and it's beautiful.

[paperglader]

I don’t remember what my twitch account is and I want to watch 4sd??🧐

[pocketgalaxies]

"if it takes away all of our magic, anything gifted to us from something greater..." imogen. imogen. imogen

[battlecouplesoulmates]

The 16th episode of 4-Sided Dive is hidden on youtube? Is this normal? Will it become unhidden? Is it because I live outside the USA? Is it available to watch elsewhere?

[shorthaltsjester]

imodna to me is c3 widojest (i am not a fan of widojest)

[overnighttosunflowers]

other people have said this better than I will here, but every time there's an imodna conversation, I start hearing noises about the their relationship being codependent, unhealthy.

and, look, yeah, individually? they're mentally unhealthy. they are! they're fucked up and traumatized and trying to hold on long enough to get to the other side and each of them individually struggling to believe that's even possible.

but their relationship? how much they love each other? how much of a harbor they try to be for each other, how they do their best to help each other, steady each other, even while they're grappling with their own shit in ways that make that really really hard?

of course they're not always gonna get it exactly right. sometimes, one of them—both of them—needs support. needs reassurance. needs their partner to be there for them.

two fucked up people are never gonna have a relationship where they both behave perfectly, healthily, every time. (in fact, no relationship is gonna have that, but that's neither here nor there.) they won't have a relationship that's all sunny skies and calm waters, not until they can calm their own storms.

but they can give each other the space to be both fucked up and loved. to promise to hold each other's hand while they do what they need to do to get through it, and to promise that there is something on the other side. that it's worth fighting to get to it together.

needing each other isn't inherently codependent. and loving someone who's struggling isn't toxic.

and there's so, so much love.

[colealexart]

story time! i met the cr cast this past weekend at mcm london and they were the kindest people imaginable, but my interaction with laura and marisha was just. incomprehensibly sweet and the best thing to ever happen to me.

first up was laura. my friends izzy (@wvearp) and abby (@overnighttosunflowers) went before me in the queue and they got my art signed by her. when they did, she said “oh, best art” and they told her that they were here with the artist. she immediately was like “what?! where?!” and started looking around frantically. i was standing just to the side and i waved awkwardly and she was like “NO WAY! YOU!! i favourite this shit on twitter ALL THE TIME!” which i find hilarious because yeah, i freak out a little every time she does.

when it got to my turn, i said hello and asked her how she was doing. she did not answer my question and instead said “cole, are you kidding me? these are gorgeous” about the two prints i handed to her. (the one pictured and a different one i got signed.) she said she remembers seeing this after the episode aired and i was like “yeah, it airs at 3am here so i drew this in a frantic, sleep deprived stupor at 7am” and she said “you did it so fast, i remember! i sent it to marisha! people are SO QUICK with the fanart, you guys are insane.”

after she signed the print, she held onto it for a moment and just sat and admired it, before looking at me with the BIGGEST smile and saying “you are seriously the best. thank you.” and i don’t know how to handle sincerity so i handed her the dice i got for her. she was so excited about them and immediately rolled the d20 and got a 10 (edit: i misremembered, she got a 3 lol). i then asked if we could play rollies and she beat me. i got a 5 and laura got a 7. i said i’m sorry they’re not rolling well and she was like “it’s fine, they just need charging up!”

i also got a selfie too, but the guy helping her at the table took the photo for us instead of me trying to take it because i suck at taking selfies. she gave me a really tight side hug and when it was done, she thanked me again with the biggest smile.

i also didnt realize until afterwards but instead of writing a character quote, laura wrote “you are everything” on my autograph 😭

next was the group photo op. as we walked up i said hi again to laura and she immediately recognized me from before. she grabbed onto my shoulders and literally spun me around to marisha and was frantically saying “marisha marisha, this is the person that does the amazing imodna art!” but there was a lot going on and marisha was looking at me with the most bewildered expression, until she eventually understood what laura was saying but we had to rush to take the photo. laura held onto my arm and marisha leaned against me and i didn’t realize until afterwards but liam and tal also had their hands on my shoulders lol. it was A Lot. i told marisha i would probably be heading to her autograph queue next so i’d see her there and she was like “awesome, i cant wait!”

so after that, i met marisha. i was probably the most nervous to meet her because she’s just so cool and intimidating but in reality she is just so warm and has such a calming presence about her. she was like “cole, good to see you again!” and i handed her the same imodna print that i had laura sign. she said “ohh, aww this is amazing! this is what laura was talking about, i was so confused!”

then we talked a bit about the live show because her voice was hoarse and i asked her how she was feeling. she said it was just her voice that was gone, but we agreed that it was absolutely worth it because the live show was incredible. i also congratulated her on the how do you wanna do this, then gave her the dice i got for her and we played rollies too. we both got an 18 at first and when we rerolled, she beat me with another 18 to my 16. then she was like “oh these roll really well, i’m definitely gonna use these!”

we took our photo together and afterwards she said “thank you for your art and everything. seriously, you’re so talented” while rubbing my shoulder, and then i headed off to join ashley’s queue.

i’m probably gonna make a separate post about meeting ashley and sam. i just wanted to write this down mostly to immortalize on my blog. i expected them to be kind but i did NOT expect to feel so loved and appreciated. laura was about as excited as i was, and made me feel so special. (this is also a pretty small thing but i dont think i pass very well, so the fact that laura said ‘person’ and didn’t misgender me meant a hell of a lot too.)

i did bring extra prints to give to them as a gift but was overwhelmed and forgot lol

anyway, that’s it! for anyone wondering if the critical role cast are as kind in person as they seem online, they absolutely are and then some. i’ll never forget this past week.

[enbyandearthworm]

One of my favourite things about critical role at the moment (and there's a whole bunch) is that all of my ships are canon/semi-canon. And I know that sounds shallow but hear me out. Like right now I'm shipping Imodna, Dorym and Callowmoore and they've all had at least one side confess feelings.

I don't think people who aren't regularly in fandom spaces understand just how much it means for all of the characters you're shipping to even just openly confess feelings for each other. Especially when that ship is queer. It just doesn't happen. But it does with critical role and that makes me so happy. It's such a weird feeling after being in so many fandoms where you're working off of like 2 canon conversations or 10 years of queer-baiting or whatever, to have ships that are just open and out there. It's actually amazing

[cringefaecompilation]

No but really the Imodna criticism has only made me double down harder. You mean to tell me I lived through 2000s tv that inevitably and reliably buried gay relationships as soon as they were established, so much so that there is now an entire ‘bury your gays’ trope in modern media… only for streaming services to dominate serialized shows and force them into condensed and truncated seasons that air once every two or three YEARS… to then have Critical Role.. with over 1000 hours of its campaigns over a decade… to dedicate enough time to a friendship between two women that actually and organically developed into romantic feelings.. only for people to complain that its codependent or forced or one-sided? Like. Have we grown too online to appreciate how fucking miraculous the sapphic ships CR has given the community actually are?

you know it's a good lesbian ship when straight people or otherwise not lesbians are accusing you of hating platonic female friendship or claiming it's basically incest to ship them

[jadequarze]

https://www.tumblr.com/jadequarze/737009839986933760/a-bunch-of-fun-stuff

I need the individual images of all the imodna ones please 🙏

(These were taken from my side twitter, I'm currently away from my computer. So I don't have access to the chibis)

[unicyclehippo]

ooo maybe perhaps imodna “28. …as a lie.”? love love love your writing style. no worries if this isn’t the vibe! I’m sure anything you write will be phenomenal

‘do you know what your problem is?’ delilah says oh so casually. laudna is busy folding the laundry (lalala!) and her hands keep moving and smoothing each shirt and sock and her magic drips over holes in imogen’s socks and her head turns so she is looking right at imogen with a perfect replica of her smile, over-wide, borderline painful, like all the love in her hurts a little getting out (because? because she has too much of it? because if it doesn’t hurt it’s not love?) but there’s a glint in the gem at her throat and a glint in laudna’s pretty eyes and it could be sunlight but it’s not.

‘you,’ imogen says, like she’s bored. would she buy that, though? can delilah tell how electric she’s gotten? she definitely can. laudna’s eyes go wide and hungry and hot, dragging down imogen’s arms; it feels wrong, like when she was young again and couldn’t get men’s thoughts out of her head (damn the things i’d do to that girl).

‘don’t be nasty,’ delilah laughs, throaty. ‘i’m giving you advice. you should be thanking me.’

‘i’ll thank you to get the fuck out of laudna’s head.’

delilah pulls laudna away from the laundry long enough to wave a dismissive hand. ‘nonsense. she wants me here.’

it sounds true, is the problem. but she’s a liar. imogen shouldn’t be talking to her. it’s early and she wants to be asleep in bed but laudna wanted to wash their clothes properly, the magic didn’t clean things right, it had to be done properly and now she’s folded their small clothes into a bag and delilah is smiling at her like she belongs, like laudna’s just a dress to slip on slip into. and laudna wants her there. does she?

‘your problem, imogen—may i call you that? your problem is a lack of planning. ambition, too. you’re very powerful but what good is power without direction?’ delilah lingers on her scars. the red glow at her fingertips. she licks her lips, or laudna does (lalala).

‘shut up.’

‘you won’t get what you want by hoping. and certainly not by praying these days. why don’t you—‘ she walks laudna’s fingers across the tabletop, across the back of imogen’s hand. vile woman. ‘put all that power to good use? what are you afraid of?’

a city block levelled with a scream. the world gone hot and white, burning away. everyone’s minds open before her like toy chests for her to paw through.

‘are you done?’

delilah sighs. when she speaks again, she’s lost the purr; she sounds more like herself, more like laudna has recently. matter-of-fact. brittle sharp. ‘i’m trying to help you, girl.’

imogen wants to kill her again. laudna’s face doesn’t look like her face anymore; it looks like skull, muscles, skin. eyes. ‘i. don’t. want. your. help.’

‘you’ve scared yourself into standing still. can’t go forward, too afraid of the power. can’t go back because you won’t give up what you’ve gained,’ delilah laughs. ‘you may hate me, dear, but you must know that you’re just like me?’ her hand touches imogen’s cheek, thumb wandering laudna’s favourite line over her cheek, freckle to freckle. it feels like laudna, which is to say, imogen has lost again. ‘she’ll do anything for you. she’s such a sweet girl. and so much more willing to comply now that she has something to lose.’

‘you’re sick.’

delilah tilts her head. a maybe, a yes, a what does that make you? a which one of us hasn’t pulled away?

‘you should ask her what happened to the willmaster,’ delilah suggests. ‘what she did alone in that little hole you all carry when no one was watching. when you do, ask yourself,’ delilah sighs against her cheek, so sweetly, laudna’s breath morning mint fresh. ‘what else is she hiding from you? what else has she given me?’

delilah touches the side of her neck and then—then she’s gone and laudna says ‘oh’ and ‘imogen?’ and ‘i think i…might have lost a moment there, darling,’ and ‘are you alright?’

imogen leans into the hand on her cheek, the thumb that jumps from freckle to freckle. she curls a lightning-warmed hand around the back of laudna’s neck and kisses her, very gently.

‘yeah, honey. all good. you done with the laundry?’

[quietblueriver]

A little Imodna fic re: Imogen’s trip through Ruidus and Laudna’s reaction to it. Angst and fluff and comfort bc they deserve it.

When the dream is over, Imogen has feelings about her trip through Ruidus, about what she wants and whether she’s wanted.

After the others leave, she and Laudna get some time to talk about it.

-

It’s quiet in their room.

Imogen’s curled toward the edge of the mattress, knees tucked up just slightly, the thick comforter keeping her almost too warm. Normally, she’d turn to Laudna, press close so that the cool of her body balanced out the heat of their bed. Tonight, she doesn’t.

She knows Laudna is awake, can hear the push and pull of thread through her latest project, feels the light touch of fingers on her shoulder every few minutes, gentle enough that they wouldn’t wake Imogen if she were sleeping. She’s not sure if Laudna thinks she is sleeping or if she’s letting Imogen pretend. Which is another way of saying Laudna’s either not paying enough attention to notice that Imogen is awake and caught in her thoughts or she doesn’t feel the need to check in. Either way, and despite herself, Imogen feels it like a slight.

A feeling that causes the weight of shame and an ever-lurking sense of failure to rise up and make the heat almost unbearable. She worms a foot out as quietly as she can, ears hyper-aware of the rustle of fabric she can’t stop.

Laudna’s sewing continues uninterrupted. Imogen’s chest grows somehow more full with her feelings and all the words she’s biting back.

Even now.

Even after their trials with Nana Morri, after all that angsting over honesty and communication and trust, Imogen is quiet.

There are options. She’d known that before they’d been thrown into a pit and attacked by murder wasps and tricked into doubt. There have always been options.

She could turn over. She could reach out her hand and grasp Laudna’s wrist and let Laudna see her eyes. She could ask Laudna to talk to her, could tell her about the thoughts circling and circling through her mind, the ones that have been there since that night in the basement with Delilah.

She doesn’t. She’s tired. And she feels, if she’s honest with herself (and maybe that was the exercise they all needed first, because Imogen’s fairly certain she’s not the only one of the Hells who has difficulty living in her own truths sometimes), like she has been the one bridging the gap, or trying to, without any indication that it’s welcome. Like her honesty and vulnerability have recently been met with hesitancy and hedging and eyes toward a future very different from the one that Imogen had thought they both wanted.

The doubt, an old friend, had begun growing louder in that basement with Delilah and had reached its peak tonight.

The question about giving in to Ruidus was genuine. They’d talked about it before and put it to the side, but now that they’re closer, now that they’re getting ready to really go and do this, it felt important to raise again. She wanted their opinions, because they’d just watched what happened if one of them decided to make a choice like that in isolation, and it wasn’t good.

She wanted to know what they thought, wanted to be as smart about it as she could be.

If you’d asked her, though, even the moment before the question left her lips, whether Laudna needed to be there for that conversation, she would have said no.

Because she knew Laudna’s answer. She saw Laudna’s face furrowing in reaction to her offering her soul on the Crimson Abyss, heard Laudna’s violent threats of protection on her behalf, felt the cold of her form of dread spread and snarling over her as they fought. She knew Laudna’s answer, and it was, “No.”

This was a given, because she loved Imogen more than she loved anything, and because even if Imogen wasn’t trying to be unnecessarily self-sacrificial, there was no denying that giving in could be dangerous.

Except it hadn’t been no. It hadn’t been no, and then, when she’d come back to herself, come back to the cold, exhausting world after feeling so warm, so whole in the heart of Ruidus, and told them just a sliver of it, it still hadn’t been no.

It had been, “If it’s what you want.” It had been, “I don’t want to hold you back.”

And Imogen knows that Laudna loves her. She knows, because Laudna shows her, has shown her, every day.

But the deep and sharpening doubt inside of her says confidently that the love they have for each other isn’t the same.

Imogen wants Laudna. She wants her in every way. There is no future for her, hasn’t been for a long time, that doesn’t have Laudna at its center.

There is nothing she wants more than a cottage with a horse or two and garden beds for Laudna, a porch with a little table where she can start her day with the sunrise while Laudna sleeps and they can end their days with the sunset together, a kitchen like Zhudanna’s, with a stove that works and favorite mugs and a window that looks out at the forest. A home that is warm and easy and theirs.

There is nothing she wants more than to be there, with Laudna. To kiss her good morning and good night and anytime in between. To love her for as long as she’s alive.

And yes, Imogen knows that Laudna loves her.

Long before she kissed her in that marketplace in Jrusar, Imogen knew that Laudna loved her in a way that nobody else ever had. A love so deep and steadfast and self-sacrificial that it made Imogen scared to express the nature of her own feelings because she was afraid Laudna would force herself into something she didn’t want just to make Imogen happy.

Without the circlet, she’d been able to hear the flow of Laudna’s thoughts, often, and understandably, preoccupied with the immediate dangers of their lives after joining the Hells. It felt selfish, in light of that, to ask for more, to put one more thing on her.

And she’d been afraid to say anything without certainty, without some kind of hint from Laudna that she wasn’t going to hurt Laudna and herself and everything they’d built together.

She’d gotten close, before the Solstice. The future they were imagining, the roles they played for each other, Laudna’s own words about Imogen and what she wanted—it closed the gap a little. Made it easier for Imogen to think that maybe, one day, she’d know they were in the same place. That it would be safe to tell Laudna that her love had at some point spilled over its neatly drawn box and had only kept spilling, running over the lines between friendship and devotion and desire until it was all one big pool.

The circlet might’ve made it harder. After all, it was the opposite of confirmation. But the split, her time in Uthodurn, it only made Imogen’s need, selfish as it was, stronger, and when she didn’t have the discouragement of what she thought was knowledge, didn’t have access enough to know that her own want, so fierce sometimes she could hardly think of anything else, was unmatched, she couldn’t keep telling herself the same story about waiting. Fear lost to love (to greed, to desire, to impulse) and suddenly she was kissing Laudna next to the bread stall.

And Laudna was kissing her back. And Laudna was touching her and telling her, softly and with the purpled blush that made Imogen warm and light with affection, that she loved her.

Imogen believed her. She had no reason to doubt her.

Except, of course, for the circlet. Except for the niggling, shameful, persistent voice that reminded her that she could be sure, if she just took off the circlet. That she could be sure, if she let herself explore. That it would save both of them pain if she took even just a minute to be certain that they were on the same page, that Laudna wasn’t just doing her another thing to try to make Imogen happy.

She’d never pry. But without the circlet, she could maybe just stumble into the truth. Fall on it the way she fell onto so many thoughts in the world.

It’s the ugliest part of her. The part of her that believed for most of her life that she knew people because she knew their thoughts, that she didn’t need to listen or to watch who someone was in the world because she could see the real them, the true them.

She knows better now. She knows that people can, and do, fight against their impulses and desires and the darkest voices in their minds. That people work to be more, and better, than their base thoughts.

The problem is, though, that sometimes they don’t. Sometimes people let their impulses lead them and they keep their mouths closed and their hands busy and suddenly you’re watching your friend explode into a million pieces, putting themself and everybody else you love at risk.

She would’ve known, if she’d taken off the circlet. She would’ve seen the plans and heard the reasons and she could’ve done something.

And yeah, it’s about trust. Of course it is. But it’s also about reality, and the reality is that people find it hard to talk about things, especially hard things, and with the Hells, that has the potential to be catastrophic. Has been catastrophic.

It’s easy, to let that logic lead her. She needs to take it off. For protection. For the people she loves.

But if she’s honest with herself, if she fights to be honest with herself if no one else, there are other, more selfish reasons why she sometimes wants the circlet gone.

The biggest one is lying right beside her, humming softly to herself as she works through “the difficult bit. Do you think green or orange, dearest, for the tail?” A question asked before Delilah’s appearance, Laudna’s eyes excited as she held out the options and Imogen kissing her in favor of an answer.

Imogen loves Laudna far too much to leave the worst parts of herself an opening, so the circlet had gone back on as soon as it had been just the two of them. Temptation removed. Laudna had watched but asked no questions and Imogen had offered no explanation and now she’s stuck here in this too-hot bed with her own rambling and pathetic thoughts, lonelier than she has been in a long, long time and looking for a reason not to run as fast as she can back toward the warmth and comfort of that place in her dreams.

Part of her understands. She’d sat, broken-hearted and trembling, on a floor in godsforsaken Whitestone and told Laudna that she loved her and that it was her choice, whether to come back. It was her decision, and Imogen would never ever try to take that from her, even as every part of her wanted to beg and plead and crack open in supplication.

Imogen had refused to be yet another person who denied Laudna a choice. If loving her had meant letting her go, then she would have done it, no matter the cost to herself.

So she understands, a little. If Laudna thinks that what she wants is to leave, to…join with? Return to? Whatever, with Ruidus, and she thinks she’s the reason Imogen is denying herself, then sure, Imogen can understand some of it.

But Imogen’s hopes for the future aren’t mysterious. Even before their kiss, she was clear with Laudna that what she wanted was her. She’d said it over and over again. She’d offered those dreams willingly, in defiance of every part of herself that told her it was foolish and dangerous and pitiful, that reminded her that building a future with someone else was a surefire way to end up like her daddy, lonely and bitter.

Her love won out, and, in the biggest gift of Imogen’s life, Laudna understood. Laudna wanted the same things.

Except maybe she didn’t.

She kicks her second foot out from under the covers, less concerned with the noise, and Laudna stops her motion for a moment, reaches a hand out to touch Imogen’s shoulder.

“Imogen?”

It isn’t really a choice, in the end. Laudna has called her, so she will answer.

“Hmm?”

“Are you…”

The bed shifts, sounds of Laudna putting away her things and moving until her body is against Imogen’s, the hand on her shoulder drifting down to rest on her waist. The cool press of her is such a familiar relief that Imogen almost cries.

“Are you alright?”

Yes. No. Of course not. She feels weak as the water gathers in the corner of her eyes and she bites back her instinct to snap. Anger is first, almost always, and tonight is no exception.

Love surges quickly and she lets it win, feels it temper in the form of an exhalation and the moment she needs to settle herself. Laudna’s trying. Imogen wants her to know, and this is the only way she can.

The metal of the circlet presses into her temple as she gives her body what it wants and shifts back, closer, holds Laudna’s arm to her with her own.

“Do you…do you really not…”

She clears her throat, embarrassed at the sadness and exhaustion that fill the gap left by her receding anger. She’s so tired, and she hates that they’re having this conversation. That they have to have it. That she can’t say what she wants. What she needs.

The question about Ruidus wasn’t a test. This one wouldn’t be either, but it also won’t get her what she needs.

She tries again. Starts with what she knows.

“I…I want you to want me here. With you.” Laudna’s grip around her tightens but she doesn’t say anything, and Imogen takes a second. She sighs out, forces tension from her shoulders and the pride from her throat, open and open and open for Laudna. Trust and honesty and communication. Gods, it’s fucking awful. She presses forward anyway. “It hurt me. B-badly, I think. When you seemed so ready to let me go to Ruidus.”

Nails, now, present but not painful through the fabric of her nightshirt and against her belly, and Laudna’s body tense against her back, and still she’s quiet. Imogen laces their fingers and brings their joined hands underneath her shirt, pressing Laudna’s palm to her skin and shivering as she gathers her words.

“I was tellin’ the truth, earlier. It felt good, bein’ there. But Laudna, I…” She squeezes at her hand and then lets go, pulls and pushes and turns until they’re face to face and she can put her palm against Laudna’s cheek, see the worry in her dark eyes. “I don’t know how else to make you understand that I want you. That I want my future to be you.”

Laudna’s mouth opens and closes and Imogen presses a thumb to her bottom lip and kisses her forehead.

“Sometimes I think I understand the way you feel about me. But the last few days especially, I…” She stumbles again, because they’ve already talked about that night, and she doesn’t want to do it again, although she will if she has to. “I just…” She closes her eyes for a moment and reaches past the sadness and into the fire, lets the slow and steady and bright flame of love and determination and want move her forward. “It doesn’t matter how Ruidus feels. Alright? What’s the moon to me if you’re not there?” She kisses her, hard and quick, and holds her eyes again. “It’s not home. It can’t be. Not without you.”

Laudna swallows and licks her lip and says, slowly, “I want you to have all the things I didn’t get to have.” The pad of her thumb runs underneath Imogen’s eye, turning until the nail is tracing her cheek and down her jawline, over her chin until it comes to rest in the center of her throat. She stares at it as she whispers, voice raspy with the strain of a rope long rotted, “Most of all, I want you to have choice.”

Imogen covers the hand with her own and brings it down, cradling it against her chest.

“I know. I know you do. And I do have choice.” She kisses her again, longer and slower. “I’m choosing you. If you’ll let me.”

She watches the emotions play themselves out on Laudna’s face, expressive eyes widening and crinkling, the corners of her mouth twitching with all the words she doesn’t say, preternaturally sharp teeth tearing at the skin of her lip.

“I can never quite believe that.”

Her lips taste of ichor even more than usual, the texture catching on Imogen’s tongue as she soothes the newly broken skin.

“I know. I know you can’t. But it’s true.” She bites her own lip and asks a question she hopes she knows the answer to. “Is it alright? That I choose you? Would you…would you choose me, too?”

Dark eyes soften and soften, a pair to the arm holding her close.

“Imogen. I chose you a long time ago. I’m so sorry, darling, that I’ve made you doubt that.” She runs her fingers through Imogen’s hair, lets them catch at the back of her head. “It’s beyond my understanding how lucky I am that you would choose me, too.”

It would be easy, to let it go. And maybe she could. Maybe they understand each other, this time. But they’re here, and she wants it to be the last time they have to be (at least for a while, gods help her) so she pulls on the last reserves of her emotional energy to say, “Can you…can you believe me? Please? Or…or maybe we can have a signal, for when you can’t? Because Laudna, I…it’s hard for me to understand that you want me, too. And when you…I can’t always convince myself it’s true, when it feels like you’re tellin’ me to choose somethin’ else.”

Imogen watches as Laudna’s eyes move almost absently over her shoulder before coming back, resolved, as the hand in her hair tightens. “Yes. I’m going to try to remember. This is…thank you, dearest. For telling me. I’m going to think about this more. We can…we should talk about it, again.”

Her displeasure at the thought must register on her face because suddenly Laudna is laughing and the hand in her hair has let go to come pat at her cheek as Laudna tuts. “It’s dreadful, isn’t it?”

Imogen groans and buries her head in the crook of Laudna’s neck. Fingers return to her hair as she nods her agreement. She feels a tug on the circlet.

“Thank you for this, as well.”

Suddenly she’s pulling back, because this is important, because Laudna should know that…

”Laudna, I promise I’d never…”

She’s being tucked back into Laudna’s body before she can finish, lips against her temple before words are whispered into her ear. “I know, my love. I know. But you could, and it means something that you don’t. So thank you.”

She relaxes into the hold, noses into the space behind Laudna’s jaw and breathes for a minute before she kisses the skin there. And again.

Maybe it shouldn’t be as easy as it is for her mind to wander away from Ruidus and their mission and the conversation they’d just had. But maybe they deserve it. Maybe this is what it means, to choose each other even at the end of the world—that joy and desire get their time between exhaustion and fear.

So she doesn’t fight the impulse. “We should sleep,” she says, as she bites gently at Laudna’s neck, moves down to lick her collarbone.

Through a very lovely gasp, Laudna asks, “Forgotten the chasm already, darling?”

Imogen grins. “We should.” Her hands press at Laudna’s hips until she’s below her, bracketed by Imogen’s knees. “But I have another idea.”

Laudna laughs. “Can you be quick?”

Imogen pulls off her nightshirt and feels incredibly smug at Laudna’s wide eyes, the way her mouth is still half-open from her laughter, frozen there.

“Chasm answer? Or would you rather I…”

It’s her turn to gasp, Laudna’s mouth against her and her hands braced against the bare skin of Imogen’s back, nails dragging in that way that makes Imogen whimper shamelessly.

“Hush, now. We’ve done quite enough talking, don’t you think?”

It’s breathed into the skin of her shoulder, and Imogen can only nod, pulling Laudna closer and letting herself remember that she can have this, forever, if she chooses.

[notori]

If I was betting on it, I would - regrettably* - put my money on Imodna breaking up on screen, in game. It's something they've floated in 4SD for a while and given what's been happening I certainly wouldn't be surprised.

However, I don't actually think it would last until the end of the campaign. I think the idea of Delilah (aka. The Addiction, The Abuser) 'winning' and ending Laudna, be it physically or by destroying her good-heartedness, is super unsatisfying story-wise. I foresee a break up being the lead in to a Bell's Hells vs Delilah Round 2, where perhaps they need to fight Laudna as well this time.

I fully believe Imogen meant it when she said she would never let go and stay by Laudna's side. The problem is that, perhaps right now it isn't Laudna by her side. So, the story beat then becomes: How do we get Laudna by her (and the Hells') side again? And for that, there is a whole imagination's worth of magic at the group's disposal.

I've long thought that - especially after Imodna got together - their/Laudna's story would end with a permanent True Resurrection type of spell. As much as I would miss the undead aesthetic and AO3 ichor. But such a beat definitely feels more endgame or even epilogue. Which means we still have a ways to go with more conflict. The notion that Delilah Briarwood would just be an idle patron for an entire campaign would also be extremely unsatisfying.

Trust has definitely been broken. And I think there is something important to be said for the message of "I love you, but I don't trust you." coming into play. But these things can be repaired. Rupture and repair is a part of healthy relationships. That doesn't mean we excuse harmful behaviour, but as far as broken trust goes, it can absolutely be repaired. With the added complications (yet, also more tangible ones) of magic, they just need to find or craft a spell which can separate Delilah from Laudna, or revive her permanently as a human. And they now have access to powerful allies in the form of all kinds of spellcasters. If they save the gods, they can ask favours of them. There are so many things.

And so, while I would currently wager on a break up being likely, I will also wager that it will be a storm before the calm in order for there to be a beautiful, healing, reconciliation.