#what is it with the air ashari that gives them such a fucked up time with grief and loss and having to hold off on your revenge

[puwumats]

the wine's got me fucked up thinking about the keyleth/orym parallels. something horribly tragic happens to people you care for. it was a deliberate, and callous act, and killed innocents for no other reason than to further the one responsible's goals.

and now, due to world-ending circumstances beyond your control, you have to sit at a table with your friends and that very same evil and talk to them like they are your equal. some of your friends even want to side with them, however temporarily, for some higher goal. but you can't stop thinking about all those that you lost, because of this person. and the anger bubbles and boils away right underneath the surface of your usually-sweet demeanor, until you explode or die.

"you called a hit on my family. a successful one - fuck you" and "call me child one more goddamn time" are the same frustrated and bitter cry, just in a different key.

[ludinusdaleth]

i feel like the mere idea of bringing up orym & ludinus and their entwined threads of fate is taboo, but i cant stop thinking about it.

orym is a rare, nearly impossible kind of protector - a guard, somehow not attached to a corrupt, brutal system. he just wishes to protect his home, his leader. but ludinus, via otohan, attacks this peaceful place. he turns the ashari cautious & agrieved. he turns the society of air into the eye of a hurricane. orym is turned into a widow. his title as guard is marred; he failed. maybe zephrah is forever marked as a battleground & graveyard, now.

orym walks across tal'dorei & marquet, slowly healing beside his friends, protecting them as best he can. but then he learns who killed his family, and she kills his friends, too - and him, for a moment, giving him visions of his dead husband, reopening the wound. he is in the eye of a sandstorm, tinged red by the moon. he is a pilgrim no longer. his attempt to be a guard has once again been thwarted. maybe you cant have peace if you're a protector.

orym is at the center of the goddamn planet, the leylines aligning as he witnesses his leader fall at the hands of otohan, again at the center of his home's wound, and ludinus, again pulling the strings. a protector far stronger, more capable, than him, adorned in feathers, alight with divinity, falls worse. his friends are flung to the far sides of the world. he once again fails as a guard. maybe a guard is too small in the scale of this world's forces to impact the tide at all.

and so, orym nods to laudna as she rips bor'dor's life from him. he shears his hair ever more, adorns tougher armor. he makes a deal with a hag, desperate for any chance someone he cares for could maybe fucking make it out okay - even if his vastly increased sternness to keep them safe pushes all of them farther into fear of their own. he sneers with unfathomable anguish as he sees ludinus at the volcano and wastes every one of his action points to rip his soldiers apart. he uses ludinus's harness. he takes the willmaster's power. he keeps pushing into the bloodred storm. he could never be a guard right. so it is time to be a soldier. to truly protect must mean to run to the source of all of it and end it once and for all.

all of the bells have been forged by ludinus, a horseman of war, but orym takes it most viscerally. he does everything in his power to stop ludinus, but in a way the elf has already won - or perhaps, in his need for exandria to be "saved" (as he percieves his actions will do), he's failed, but the bells have still lost. because this new generation isnt at peace. they arent even heroes. they are soldiers. orym more than anyone else has accepted that is his life, his death, his fate. there is no goal of his that doesnt end at ludinus. ludinus, who just like him, lost everything in a war involving gods. who has felt the way the world keeps turning, unbothered by what destroyed his society. who uses that accursed harness to take power for a cause. who doesnt want to force someones mind to get what he needs, or kill, but does, because it is necessary. who has pushed himself to the point he is a means to an end more than a person, willing to rip himself apart because he doesnt matter, his goal does. who cant see anything but war on the horizon anymore.

when the two are mentioned together it causes folk to bristle. the idea orym could be in ludinus's shadow is seen as a suggestion that orym is evil as him. but, thats not what i intend. it is a terrible thing, watching someone's gaze harden after tragedy. once a long time ago, as the gods fought across exandria, ludinus saw his world destroyed. and so he enacted a plan to ensure that would never happen again. that they would suffer, and mortals would thrive. but his plan was a god's foot, trampling mortal society upon society. and so orym saw his world destroyed. and he knows killing ludinus is how to let it mend. as the two march forward, in a second calamity, i can think of nothing but the first scene of exu: calamity, when pelor & asmodeus fought as avalir fell below them. despite ludinus's raging, incredible hatred of the gods, the biggest tragedy of all is that mortals really are crafted in the gods' image: and he, & orym, are most representative of that endless cycle of war, of this war, a failure of the past generations, of ludinus, to ensure a "true" freedom of mortals. of peace.

willmaster edmunda was a terrible person, but i fear she was on the right track when she spat at orym "some would like to live in harmony [with Exandrians]. some... know the nature of violence, that others like you carry."

he would never have carried it if ludinus had not dropped it at his feet.

[blorbologist]

*cracks knuckles*

For One for sorrow / Two for joy bird imagery reasons, I have! Thought about this! A lot!

Vex and Vax need similar wings, obviously, as twins. Me being me and canon being canon, it’s pretty obvious: dark-feathered corvids. Very generalist wings, not specialized. Magpie for Vex, because, again, me and my Vex magpie bias, and crow wings for Vax, actually. They’re closer in size to magpies, and crows are more sociable and chill than ravens. (But if those wings get larger, the faint shine tinted more purple than steely blue? well...)

For Keyleth, I actually default to a golden eagle or a cardinal! Golden eagles are symbols of royalty and adapted for both soaring and solid bursts of speed - perfect for an Air Ashari and the Voice of the Tempest. She deserves them, they’re supremely cool. As for cardinals - they have some symbolism about remembering lost loved ones, and are extremely fiesty for songbirds and have a reputation for biting really fucking hard. Also sharing food with their mates v tenderly <3 (the females are more drab than the males, so maybe trans!Keyleth with bright red wings? idk!)

Grog I usually have a toss-up on, but I ended up liking the shoebill for him. Or a large goose. Shoebills are not great flyers, and I doubt Grog would fly much anyways, and they just have Excellent Vibes. With a goose, though, especially something like a Canada goose, he’d have stupidly strong wings that can and will bruise you bad if you piss them off. Bludgeoning weapons :D

I actually disagree with Pike having a dove’s wings! Pike is a lot more ferocious than people give her credit for, and not a docile, domesticated thing. With her I leaned between barn owl and osprey. Barn owl leans into the religious imagery while also being an extremely powerful animal. Their primary feathers look weird up close, but that allows them to fly pretty much silently - which would be very ironic given Pike’s armor. They also can be super freaky with their wails. Osprey are likewise powerful, with wings adapted for coasting along hunting for fish, and this tie into her time at sea over the pre-stream timeskip as well as her more overt Monstah vibes.  

For Scanlan, I love common starlings! They’re invasive birds where I am, and very common, to the point they’re overlooked. However, they have incredible purple iridescence, and fly in tight shifting formations, and can mimic sounds stupidly well. The juxtaposition of bland and Extra really sells it for me. Plus, I figure that the whole murmuration thing could mean Scanlan can pull off some quick maneuvers while flying, potentially tying into a performance. 

Tary is another tossup: I initially liked american goldfinch for him. Tiny wings made for flying between close trees and perching while he sings his silly songs. But I ended up going with the domestic canary; he hasn’t really left home, much, fitting a domestic species, and is so obnoxiously bright. I don’t know much about the biology of canaries, so I can’t speak to what the wings would actually contribute to his character beyond ‘bright fucking yellow’.

Huh, somehow Percy ended up at the end? Anyways - bluejay, no question. Another species made for forests, with feathers that look stunning blue and white and black, but the blue is all structural tricks. Another corvid, like the twins, and potentially a songbird like Keyleth. Notorious little assholes and smartasses. Again, nothing too special about how his wings would tie into things here - but you got to admit they’d be a look.

yall I've been obsessed with wing aus for so long and I can't believed that I've ever talked about a vox machina one. Like imagine Keyleth with the most beautiful sparrow like wings and Pike's like doves and Grog's like an eagle. Just imagine them all preening each other's wings and wrapping them around each other and oh my god I'm obsessed.

[britcision]

Ngl I suspect every single person who thinks VM wouldn’t want to res Laudna either hasn’t seen the first campaign at all, or hasn’t for a really long time

The fucking Guilt Patrol?

The same guys who Never let Keyleth live down accidentally killing a kid before they ever recorded the show?

They were fucking wrecked by how many innocent people were killed retaking Whitestone

The whole point of the Sun Tree was to horrify them with the representation of what the Briarwoods would do to Vox Machina, and that they killed innocent people to do it

Put a chance to restore the life of someone they failed in the hands of Professional Guilt Magnet Keyleth of the Air Ashari?

An extra way to flip Delilah off from beyond the grave by giving Laudna back her agency?

The people who EXPLICITLY KNOW Delilah is a necromancer and actual dead corpses are actually her most useful resource?

Nah, slam some Pelor up in there, lets consecrate this bitch while we’re at it and pee on Delilah’s grave

(Matt said that putting Laudna’s body in stasis prevented something from happening to it For A Reason)

Like yeah Vox Machina fucking hate Delilah Briarwood but it’s not like LAUDNA likes her either and they’re not going to blame the young woman THEY GOT KILLED when they can just go to the astral plane or wherever she is and kick Delilah’s ass directly

If nothing else, Laudna’s an excellent distraction while they hunt her down

[unicyclehippo]

Sacrifice

chetney offers to take third watch, endures with toothy good grace the bout of teasing that starts about old men who rise with the sun. no one offers to join him, not due to any laziness or avoidance, but more of an unspoken acknowledgement that laudna will join him, as she had joined every third watch for several days now.

the night passes without issue.

fcg and fearne spend most of their first watch talking, shushing themselves when too-loud laughter makes their sleeping friends lift their heads, peer over with bleary eyes.

when their laughter turn to jaw-cracking yawns and the moons have passed almost to the top of the world, fearne picks across the camp to wake orym, tickling a feather under his nose. she suspects that he was already awake as soon as she crouched beside him, but that he didn’t expect the feather, which makes him sneeze.

‘are you - do birds make you sneeze?’ she asks, all big-eyed interest.

‘i don’t think so.’ he sneezes again. ‘just when someone shoves feathers up my nose.’

‘does that happen a lot?’

‘didn’t used to. but i suspect it’s something i’ll have to get used to,’ he says, eyeing her guileless smile, just the tiniest flash of sharp white teeth in that sweet smile. matched by the flash of mischief in big, innocent eyes. he sighs, utterly fond, utterly outmatched. ‘i’ll wake ash. get some sleep.’

‘okay. we can snuggle when your watch is over,’ she offers and he pats her knee with a nod.

he passes fcg, powered down, and sets a flower on top of their head. he doesn’t know the name of the little yellow-and-red flower but it grows like a weed out of the cracked earth of the valley and the yellow is a near match for his metal friend. passing them by, orym nudges ashton with his foot, dodges the heavy fist that punches out on instinct, and accepts the apology that rumbles out of them when they’re a little more awake. he brews tea over the low fire. ashton tells ridiculous stories of bar fights, enjoying the captive audience, and bothers orym until he gives in and tells them about fighting with the ashari, showy duels held on a sliver-wide plank over the mountainside and, quietly, what it feels like to fly instead of fall.

the moons rise and begin to fall. the sun follows in their wake and though it hasn’t yet hit the horizon and won’t for some time, the pitch black of the night sky makes way for deep purples and blues.

they wake chetney.

orym snuggles in behind fearne’s legs. ashton splays out in front of fcg, protective. chetney helps himself to the left over dregs of tea, overbrewed and bitter. it isn’t a long wait before laudna stirs and drifts over to join, sunken eyed, a grey pallor to her skin that is awful, even for her. she folds herself like paper into a shape chetney can pretend is a hawk, if he squints, all hunched shoulders and sharp edges. he watches her for a long moment, ignoring the fucking freaky vision she cuts in favour of assessing how faded she seems. a ghost of her usual self, he thinks, and the thought makes him chuckle. fearne would appreciate the joke, and he tucks it away to whisper to her later.

he turns the chuckle into a cough. asks,

‘get any sleep tonight?’

laudna’s gaze drifts over to him. she doesn’t blink, just stares. the firelight flickers, sends an echo of green scattering behind her eyes. ‘sorry,’ she whispers. ‘what was that?’

‘get any sleep?’

‘ye-es,’ she lies. it stretches in her mouth as she dithers, obviously not sure she wants to lie, but she gives into it, nodding.

he grunts like he believes her, nods back, and gets a smile for his trouble. it hangs from the corners of her lips, a trembling, delicate thing.

there’s a part of him, ravenous and toothy, that knows it could snap her into pieces, scents the brittle uncertainty in her as vulnerability, sure as blood in the air; there’s a part of him, a clever and old and lonely man, that gathers every bit of centuries of focus, control, cleverness, and smacks his beast on the nose. there would be no joy in breaking laudna—no challenge, and no reward. but, he thinks, and coaxes the beast to see it from his perspective—he can delight in ripping apart anything that tries to hurt her.

he pushes at the wolf, jumps on its head until it curls up and goes to sleep with a huff and a warning, hungry growl. he ignores it; this isn’t a job for the wolf. this is a conversation for a master crafter. already, chetney can see how it he wants it go to in his mind, what he wants to see at the end of it. all he needs, what he needs, yes—what he needs is the right tools.

‘do you play dragon chess?’

laudna lifts her head from where she was resting against a bony knee. ‘pardon?’

‘dragon chess!’ digging into his pack, he pulls a set from deep within. he’s careful with it in the way that only comes easy when it’s something made of wood; and what wood it was. woods—one a deep red, the other a purple so light it was almost white—came together in squares interlocked with a true mastery of the craft, smooth and level and graceful, the kind of work that could only really come from a master guided by love or divine inspiration. he lays out his cloak, sets the chessboard on it, and dives back into his pack for the box that holds the figures. it takes him a minute to set out each of the meticulously carved pieces and he grins when laudna makes a low sound of interest and appreciation.

gods above, she’s a creepy one but she’s got a good eye for beauty. not as fine as his own, but good.

‘chetney,’ she breathes, ‘this is beautiful.’

‘i know.’

‘did you make it?’

he flushes up to his ears at the implied compliment. ‘nah. i could, don’t get me wrong—‘

‘of course, you’re incredibly talented.’

‘—but no. my wife made these.’ laudna looks up from the piece she cradles in her hand, gleaming eyes interested. ‘don’t look at me like that. she’s not dead. we split ages ago. it was a good time but y’know,’ he shrugs. ‘i never liked anything or anyone as much as i like building toys and she felt the same about her work so we split. gave this to me, though,’ he tells laudna, and traces his fingers across the board. there’s a moment, as he lets his fingers brush the swirling grain of the wood, that he remembers her—tan face as gnarled as his own, the whorls of her scarred fingers, her hair soft and short and shot through with white, her unmatchable invention in bed—and he grins across at laudna. ‘haven’t played in ages. wanna give it a shot?’

she strokes inky fingers over the piece in her hand. the purple queen, he notes, and bites back a laugh. it’s been centuries since he was young like that and he doesn’t miss it. decades ruined by uncertainty.

‘that’s the queen,’ he tells her. ‘powerful piece.’

laudna’s smile tilts, pulls wickedly long, unnatural; voice bitter, she says, ‘how fitting. i always have been drawn to power.’

‘and purple?’ he asks, voice light, teasing. when laudna glances up, he waggles his brows in imogen’s direction.

laudna follows his eyeline. her gaze lingers, tender. wretched.

‘this is a grunt,’ chetney says, interrupting her before she can sink back into the dismal mood that has shadowed her for the better part of a week. he takes her hand, puts one of the pieces into her palm. they’re carved into small, dragon helmed soldiers and he admires one too, thumbs the point of the spear on his, the folds of the cape, the perfect precise scalemail. ‘the towers,’ he shows her the dragons curled protectively around the turrets. ‘the priests, knights, the king—and queen, you saw her,’ he nods to the piece, and pretends not to see her pick it up again, touch her finger to the tip of the queen’s crown. ‘that’s all of ‘em. ready?’

‘i - yes,’ she whispers. sets the queen in place with a gentle click of wood on wood. ‘shall i…?’

‘sure, i’ll be generous. you’re gonna need every advantage you can get, i’m tellin’ ya now.’

laudna smiles again. picks a grunt and lifts it, careful not to shove or scrape against the board. chetney nods approvingly. the move is total balls, but the care is nice of her.

laudna loses their first match soundly. without a word, chetney returns the pieces to their starting place and starts his advance. they argue briefly about rules—he knows the “uthodurn version” that he suspects is ten times older than she is, and she knows a different version that she doesn’t name, giving in to his rulings with little in the way of complaint—but mostly spend their second match in silence, other than the distressed monologues laudna gives each of her fallen soldiers.

their third match goes much in the same vein. laudna loses quickly, and seems utterly cheerful about it until chetney points out, ‘you could’ve got your knight in place here, killed my king.’

laudna’s eyes flash and she growls, a noise even his wolf finds impressive. ‘no.’

chetney scowls. ‘you’re ’sposed to try and win, yknow.’

‘i would never,’ she hisses. ‘never suggest such a thing again!’

‘winning’s the whole damn point!’

‘not if it means sacrificing—‘ she cuts herself off with a snarl and drops her head, hair dripping in front of her face.

‘what?’ he scans the board, before his eyes land on the purple queen, and sees the rest of his suggested play. she would have moved the queen, and he would have taken it, leaving his king vulnerable. but she would never, he thinks, repeats. ‘no,’ he agrees, ‘i know you wouldn’t. hey, here’s a thought,’ he says, tone casual, ‘why don’t we play without the queens this time?’

‘play - without a full board?’

‘sure! makes it a little more interesting, don’t you think? and you won’t have to worry about her,’ he adds softly. her eyes dart to meet his and away again. shy? ashamed.

‘won’t she be lonely?’

‘nah. look, she can sit with mine,’ he assures her, and sets his queen off on the side of the board. after a moment, laudna leans in and gently sets her purple queen alongside his red. pats them both on the head. ‘there. calling the shots from the sidelines. ready to play again?’

‘yes. yes,’ she says more firmly, and offers him a too-thankful smile. ‘thank you, chetney.’

[leet911]

Waiting

Imogen sends two messages for Orym to Keyleth.  The first is a plea for help, an all too short update on their situation.  The second is a coded phrase, as it sounds perfectly mundane, followed only by their location.

The response is immediate.  “Sit tight.  I’m on my way.”

And Imogen allows herself to hope.

—

When the Voice of the Tempest arrives the next day, Imogen understands the reverence Orym gives her.  She enters unannounced, as a gust of wind through an open window, but the wind forms into a person and she drops gracefully into the center of the room.  She stands like a commander.  Like Ratanish, or Otohan, Imogen can’t help but make the comparison.  She is of average stature and slender build, not imposing like those other two, but she carries herself with the same air of power.  Her mantle is a resplendent masterpiece of colours, and the shifting leaves are hypnotic as she moves.  The face is young, seemingly the same age as Imogen’s, but the eyes are hardened, belying her true wisdom.  Imogen has heard the stories from Orym.

The halfling falls into a deep bow.  “Tempest.”

“Show me.”

Orym points to where Laudna lies next to Imogen, coins still covering her eyes.  Keyleth approaches and passes her staff over the body and the light of her magic bathes Laudna.

“Can you help us?”  And it’s Orym who asks, because Imogen’s heart is in her throat.

“It’s Delilah,” Keyleth starts.

“Briarwood.” Orym finishes with her, and Imogen thinks there might have been a shudder from the Voice of the Tempest.

“I need to confer with the others.  You were right to call me.  Wait here.  I’ll send instructions as soon as I can.”  And she starts heading back towards the window.

Imogen can feel herself screaming internally.  What are we doing?  We can’t keep waiting!  It’s Laudna!  What do we do?  Her mind reaches without thinking, looking to divine the thoughts of Keyleth.  Imogen has to know.  She has to be sure.  Because if Keyleth of the Air Ashari, Voice of the fucking Tempest, can’t or won’t help them, Imogen will find someone else who will.

As soon as their minds make contact though, Keyleth turns to look at her, green eyes boring into Imogen.  For a moment, there is a glimpse of a mountaintop city, a green grove, a tree’s branches covered with ravens, but then it’s gone, a mental wall slamming into place and pushing Imogen out.

The Voice of the Tempest stops then, looks around the room at the haggard bunch before her — this effigy of Vex'ahlia, lying in state, ears covered with golden tips; this gnomish blood hunter, scarred from battles, with lycanthropy in his veins; this wheeled automaton full of magic, and potential, but also anger and violence; this fey creature, smiling politely with inscrutable motives; this green genasi, swishing their hammer around as though it were threatening instead of arrogant bravado.  And finally, this purple whelp of a girl, lightning marks on her arms, powerful beyond comprehension, but heartbroken and torn.

Keyleth’s eyes settle on Orym.  “These are the ones you travel with?”

“They’ve saved my life.  Many times over.”  He gestures towards Laudna, and now he stands up tall, meets Keyleth’s eyes in a way he hasn’t done since she arrived, even if he’s only as high as her waist.  “They saved me instead of her.”

There’s a pause for a few seconds, but the tension is too much for Imogen.  She starts speaking, because it’s the only thing she can do.  “I…  I’ll help you.  Anything you need from us, I’ll—”

Keyleth holds up a hand to stop her.  “This is bigger than you, or I even.  I just need a few days.”  Her voice softens, not quite to a whisper, and Imogen almost feels like the next words are spoken only for her.  “I understand your pain.  I pleaded for my beloved once too.”

Then she leaps up, transforms into a raven midair, and leaves the way she came.

Imogen lets out a sob.

[mariuslepual]

today on absolutely no one asked me: my own c3 predictions that I literally made rn on the spot

marisha: female fire genasi sorcerer

listen. listen. she said on multiple occasions she missed spells. let her have all the spells and all the wild shit that comes with them. not sure about subclass. genasi are hot as fuck, particularly the fire ones.

laura: female elf wild magic barbarian

let laura go feral but also random and give her trancing she was so envious of. I know she enjoys monks but I don't think she'd like how little damage they usually do. she loved aeor wild magic. give her wild magic all the time. it's what she deserves.

ashley: male tabaxi monk

I think she'd fit well in a class with no complicated spells and math. just dope monk shit 24/7. throw in a funky race for flavour. also a guy bc why not and idk i feel like she'd pull off a genderbend best of the three ladies.

travis: female dwarf eldritch knight fighter

listen. the ceo of critical role needs a melee class to kick ass paired with a strong, bulky race. he also deserves some dope arcane spark and a chance to show off his tactics and planning. also i might have recently seen that halloween ep in c1 when he dressed up as a slutty barmaid.

taliesin: nonbinary drow warlock

taliesin please give me another character to base my entire gender on. bonus points for they/them pronouns. and come on guys. let him fully embrace the dark side. tbh I'd prefer the fiend over the dark old one just bc of the abilities but I won't complain. or maybe some neat homebrew?

liam: male gnomish druid

ok so I know a cleric is everyone's bet. but listen. this man fell in love with keyleth of the air ashari so it's only fair he finally followed in her footsteps. gnome bc small. let him be little. tiny. also while I love his female characters I don't think he'd commit to an entire campaign of playing a woman. don't worry he'll still be bi and angsty. also I'm thinking some of the newer subclasses, like maybe circle of the stars. also he still could heal and express his love for his friends and turn into animals.

sam: male tiefling cleric

GIVE ME CLERIC SAM OR GIVE ME DEATH also fuck it he'll be the one to milticlass into paladin this time around. tiefling bc why the fuck not. it's sam. also I want another tiefling in the campaign. also like infernal blood plus religious character can make for some interesting secret sam angst plot twist

[motherlycleric]

and now i’m thinking of hundreds ( thousands ) of years later and all of vox machina but keyleth are dead . it’s been many years now , and she had so much time to prepare for their losses . one by one , they drift into the afterlife leaving behind a lifetime worth of good deeds and stories that will never be forgotten .

she finds herself in a tavern in whitestone one evening , reminiscing about the laughter and joy ( the pain and terror ) this place once saw , when she notices a full table in the corner . a motley crew , completely dissimilar but clearly devoted to one another . she watches for a while , takes in the way they lean into one another , the way the half-orc’s eyes repeatedly flick to the door , knows that it means they’ve been hurt enough times that he will forever be on guard . they’re planning something , but still , they joke and play and the drinks before them are quickly drained .

she eavesdrops , because what else is she going to do ? they’re talking about going to the frostweald and keyleth is struck so forcefully with a sense of nostalgia that she’s at the edge of their table , offering to show them the way , before she can even think to stop herself .

and though it has been many , many years since she was an adventurer , her name has not been lost to time , scanlan made sure of that . their eyes alight , shoulders rise and jaws drop , if but a hair . keyleth of the air ashari and vox machina , wants to join them ( this cluster fuck of dickheads ) on an adventure ? they buy her a drink and make her repay them with a story .

and they’re not vox machina , no one ever will be , but it’s fun and though not very challenging to someone of her skill level it gives her enough of a jolt of adrenalin to remind her of the good old days .

when they’ve returned to their keep in whitestone in one piece and one of a long list of mysteries solved , she tells them to visit zephrah , to not be strangers , before she makes her way to the sun tree . they visit occasionally , and so does she , and when she has time ( or is busy but full of pent up energy ) she’ll travel along with them like she’s twenty three and doesn’t fully grasp how dangerous what they’re doing is .

one by one , her new friends pass , the life of adventuring long behind them . she makes sure they are not forgotten , taking a page out of a long lost bard’s book , she commissions songs and poems and plays to be performed .

years later she’s sitting in a tavern in westruun when the door flings open and a boisterous group waltzes in , loud and cocky and looking for trouble . they grab a table and order a round and keyleth can’t help but ...

[nochiquinn]

exandria unlimited episode 1: bacon lips rob ships

mala: cr is over, time for new cr

THE NAMELESS ONES why is that such a cool title

oh I really like this twitch frame thing

ashley. ma'am. I'm already gay.

aimee's fun buns

Comfy Matt

omar is a terrible co-star

oh no omar found the treat pocket

oh just let him go lmao

oh what is THIS

what kind of HBO intro

(this is not a complaint)

who had air ashari on their bingo card

art!!

ANIMATED ART??

the keep!!

(is anyone still in the keep)

cries

mala: liam going straight back to his ex

bard? bard???

bard!!

oh ashley's out to kill me

a FAUN??

I've known Fearne Calloway for twenty seconds and if anything happened to her -

liam's chinhandsing is me

FIRE MONKEY

I can't believe fearne's familiar is a chimchar

DORF

mala: Ferne: uwu Little Mister: O{}O

I really like these character cards

matt: five aabria: thank you rnjesus for this gift

I have had Opal for twenty seconds

"he's been practicing"

Monkey and the Angry Man, coming this fall

"it's canon now"

[travis voice] we should animate this

"we don't have to do the sound" too late

we lost matt

I cannot remember the last time I had to do the finger-snap-instead-of-laughing but HERE WE ARE

oh he's a BITCH I love him

"I am WILDLY UNCOMFORTABLE but I like the attention"

ashley's dice confirm what I've been saying for a year

"going off the rails" "we didn't start on the rails, you're good"

matt SAID he was gonna be the chaos center of the group

psychonauts gman. "I am a gardener. I am gardening."

"none of you look rich" opal: you take that the FUCK back

opal is extremely committed to her aesthetic and I love her for that

posca quick hide in a trash can until they go away

couldn't she just. step over him.

"do you want to do crimes with me?"

"maybe a really cool hat" matt really is travis' avatar in this game

dariax is the meat man

"do you have TWO daggers?"

"highfalutin" marisha's influence rears its head

"she's right about everything she said about this city" liam

me: these new designs look familTHEY GOT THE DC GUY

"bitch have you seen the ocean??"

she's from byroden?!

imagine not having watched c1 and not having extreme emotional reactions to "air ashari" or "byroden"

can't relate, am in distress

"I'm not becoming a criminal, I am babysitting"

common and elvish!! half-elf??

oh no

"some things are just for the audience" thank u aabria

don't give him that kind of responsibility

red cape? kingsley's person???

opal joins the thieves' guild

this is gonna ruin the word "food" for me the way c2 ruined "up", isn't it

("nein" and "nine" were already ruined by the sasha nein livejournal years and years ago)

why did I think it was a good idea to eat frozen lemonade while I watch this, I just started laughing and my WHOLE jaw siezed up

wait I missed a bit, BLIGHTSTAR?? that's so fucking cool

BOAT DOOR

steal the ship, STEAL THE SHIP

"travis, that one's for you"

"the bottom goers"

hmmmm, oh no

oh boy I hate THAT

OH BOY I HATE THAT

I should not have done the leviathan dlc today, I am On Edge

liam and his boots

LIAM forgot about LUCK

liam: nine aabria: wrong campaign

oh it's salesa's ship aabria's face at "put it on"

matt has such a good poker face and thus far aabria has NONE in the best possible way

"the nicest thing that's been wiped on you all day"

POTACK

lmao liam

me: hm I wonder if I can check the tal'dorei campaign setting about this item tal'dorei campaign setting: is propping up my monitor

(I finally retrieved it, I'll suffer until I find something else)

time is a sandwich

chimchar vs scolipede

mala: Aabria: you guys could be intelligent The Players: absolutely not, get out of here with that shit

"I have disadvantage on stealth" not fearne, just ashley

aabria's face every time one of them tries to hold it brings me so much life

AABRIA IT IS ONE AM

I'm never safe

MINIS MINIS MINIS

I love all the more or less neutral/muted color minis and then PINK

ICE KNIFE

"alright, moses"

Evil Circlet Bjorn

he's blocking her whole calf

THREE

catch me getting dagger resin molds just to make opal's pearlescent daggers

nutshot hdywtdt

aww matt finally got a hdywtdt that he didn't have to give himself

(that sounds more pathetic than I meant for it to lmao)

the HISSERS

"matcha mochi" child calls me mochi bc she doesn't pronounce words

good all the time yet

"I am nimble like a dancer"

"I attack the knob"

"I need you to pick another number"

I just think it's really unfair of aabria to put a level two party up against such a high-level enemy like a door

"we did it, we tired her out!"

Scary Purse

oh sh

lmao liam memed on himself

knowing who She and Her Friends are makes those little bits of conversations really satisfying

oh shit she said she loves a stinger

oh SHIT

[treeofcups]

Hey, really enjoying your liveblog, would love to hear what your favorite moments from CR1 so far have been

This ask has been sitting in my inbox for a month because I kept thinking of so many different moments. Since I can’t very well say “the entire campaign,” here’s a very, very short list:

“We should just sleep together and see what happens,” is hands down my favorite moment of the entire campaign. Everything about it is absolute gold. The way Sam and Ashley stay in character and straight-faced even though the rest of the cast are losing their minds. The mutual awkwardness. “You’re like a priest or something, you can’t lie!” “What does that even mean, though?” The fact that this is arguably the first turning point in their relationship. It’s so good.

In the very first episode, what’s the very first thing we see Percy and Keyleth do? Make comment cards together for the inn they’re staying at.

The fact that Kashaw had some off-screen development and apologized to Keyleth for stealing that kiss. There was a really good post about this exact thing a little while ago, and it really jumped out at me when I watched the episode.

“Darling, take the mask off.” The thing is, the thing is, I knew about this line before I started watching the campaign, and in my head I always imagined it as a very soft moment, Vex reaching out and bringing Percy back. And in a way, it is, but the way it happens is so much more subtle and complex. The fact that it’s basically a throwaway line before Vex leaves the room, the fact that first she asked Percy if he was all right--and jumping off of that, he said “Yes,” and that’s when she says the line. It’s not a plea, it’s her saying “I can tell you’re not okay, and you should probably do something about that.” And he does, because he knows he’s not okay, too. It’s a good, shippy moment, and it’s a moment of connection between the two of them.

Keyleth breaking down after Vox Machina frees Westruun, and the fact that it was a significant jumping off point for two of the best in-character conversations in the show, between her and Kerrek and her and Percy.

Relatedly, the conversation between Keyleth and Percy in Westruun. They’ve got kind of an oddball friendship going on, and some of their moments (like the comment cards, or them standing back and being judgmental while the rest of Vox Machina beat up a trust fund kid they just met) really show how similar they are. This one shows how different they are, which could have left the impression that they only work as friends on a very shallow level, or that they shouldn’t be friends at all, but instead we get a really beautiful conversation between two very different people in front of a memorial to the slain. It really cemented for me how much I like both of these characters.

When they all go to Ank’Harel for the first time, Matt mentions that a lot of people are giving Grog strange looks, so while Grog spends his time completely failing to notice this and looking for magic rocks, Vax stays near him and gives the stink-eye to people who get too nosy. We all know that Grog is extremely, almost dangerously self-confident, and he’s physically powerful enough to protect himself from any number of people, but Vax still stood by him and warned off any unfriendly onlookers. In a way, it felt very similar to Jester protecting Yasha from Lord Sharp at the party in Nicodranas--just because these people are capable of defending themselves (and Grog probably didn’t even notice), they don’t need to deal with that sort of thing.

Keyleth controlling the storm while on-board the airship.

Keyleth getting help from the Air Ashari for the attack on Emon.

Keyleth immediately using her new powers to turn into a dragon and give rides to everyone.

That reversed gravity bridge with the continuously falling undead. Weird as hell, scary as fuck, it was great.

Scanlan chewing everyone out and then leaving. He wasn’t necessarily right about everything he was saying, but there was a lot of emotion there that needed to come out, and it was so bitter and painful to hear. A lot of the best moments in this show are positive ones, but there really was something about his deciding to leave, and the fact that he left angry that really just works.

Everything about Kaylie. We all know that Matt’s really good at creating characters, but it’s not often that we get to see a character like her, flaws and anger and all. She might be one of my favorite NPCs. The moment where she first confronts Scanlan is such a brilliant turning point, and even though a lot of it came down to that natural one, it was still such a wonderful, intense moment when she couldn’t bring herself to stab him.

Grog walking through Westruun, chewing out his old herd for being cowards, and then challenging Kevdak to a one-on-one fight. That whole speech was incredible.

Meeting Garmelie for the first time.

Sextuplets.

God, seriously, what were they thinking? What a completely over-the-top, needlessly complicated plan that lasted about five minutes after the dude they were supposed to kill showed up. 

There are so many more that I could put here, but this is already a very long post, so I’ll leave it at that for now.

[mortalfortaxpurposes]

Relationship: grog/keyleth

Words:  1158

Summary: It still startles her, sometimes, how much more she likes herself when she’s with him. or, Keyleth thinks about how far they've come.

Keyleth listens to the leaves crunching under their feet as they trek towards the top of the mountain, and looks up at Grog, who returns her look and grins. She can’t help but smile back.

Grog doesn’t like to “cheat” at travel, so she is walking everywhere, these days. It’s surprising in the way that it reminds her of scrappy fights and roadside bandits and slowly getting to know each other around a campfire. It’s nostalgic. And lately, when she is called to put a judgment on the third quarrel over crops this week, she needs those memories, that reminder that she was Keyleth of the S.H.I.T.S. before she ever was the mighty Leader of the Air-Ashari.

It's not that Keyleth doesn't enjoy the responsibility, the feeling of making something grow, for once, but these days she’s restless all the time. She knows she’s not the only one to feel this way: Vex and Percy both at times storm out of their domestic bliss into the forest outside Whitestone and pretend to pick fights with each other just to shoot at something. The truth is, when you've fought a god and won, everything can start to feel like not enough.

So she turns to Grog. He makes her feel a great many things, but restless isn’t one of them. It’s far too easy for Keyleth to get lost in her own head, but Grog runs no such risk, and he steadies her. He has learned that all she wants at times is for him to stop her thinking. Truth is, if you need to blow off steam, Grog’s the guy you want. Fight or fuck.

Though, sometimes, they don’t want either of those things.

So they climb up to the top of the highest cliff in Zephrah, and Keyleth puts her head on Grog’s shoulder and feels the wind blow through her hair and twirls her ring around her finger and thinks about the letter from a blacksmith who changed their lives some time ago.

It makes me angry, as it always does, and my anger has no place to go.

She wasn’t raised to anger, she found it along the way, spun it out of all the fear, the loss, the helplessness, and it saved her from despair. Now, when she thinks back to those times, she thinks it was Grog’s sheer glee, his savage laughs when he saw her in battle that made her begin to realize she may have been on the right path. The group was always right there with her in everything she did, but Grog’s the one who relished this side of her.

And this is the thing about Grog: he gets it. Keyleth used to care too much. She still does, she always will, and sometimes her grief gets overwhelming, as grief is wont to do. But Grog is always right there with her. Not because he loves her, though he does, but because he knows exactly what she feels: her grief is his grief, too. At first, when Keyleth asked, he would just say “I’m fine”, and Keyleth knew that what he really meant was, I’ll smash through something later.

It took a while for Keyleth to make him understand that she wants to be there for him, too.

The truth is the world thinks them superhuman: legendary, powerful, unbreakable, and there’s only five other people in Exandria who know how painfully untrue that is. So if they can’t help each other, what else is there?

He started talking to Vax, too, after that.

It used to be something Keyleth did, back when the loss was recent and raw, back when it was still unthinkable to have him far from her. So she would sit beside the tree up top and tell him of her day, like he was still right there. And who knows, maybe he was.

Grog was hesitant, at first, but he quickly warmed to it. Most people would say that it’s weird, mourning your ex-boyfriend with your new lover, but it’s Keyleth’s favourite of all their little rituals: Grog is shy and sweet and there and it makes everything a little more bearable, every single time. And she knows how glad Vax would have been, too, to see them happy and together like this. So fuck most people.

She’s getting better at that, shedding all this weight she used to carry. Other people’s expectations, sure, but her own, too. About the way she lives her life, about the people that she’s with. About her moral code.

Keyleth always used to agonize about it, couldn’t come to terms with the evils of the world, but in Grog's mind it's simple: you axe evil in the face and you don't worry about it. And it’s always touched something in her, the way he’s big and strong and violent, and he still, every time, chooses to be kind. To fight, yes, but for good.

Sometimes breaking is making, Kerrek said, and that is Grog all over.

She knows they turn more than a few heads walking side by side in Zephrah, the princess and the giant at her side. But the people of Zephrah don’t know anything. They don’t know the real Grog, his huge heart. Grog’s first family left him for dead because he dared to show compassion. His new family was built on compassion. And they definitely don’t know the certainty she gets when she feels him at her side like this.

Keyleth is aware she makes most people uncomfortable. She used to be afraid to take up too much space, but Grog never seemed to give a shit. It’s refreshing. Keyleth will never be smooth, but he makes her confident. Decisive.

It still startles her, sometimes, how much more she likes herself when she’s with him.

A year and a half ago, she never would have thought that she’d be here. She never would have thought that she would find this with somebody else, and if she had, she never would have guessed Grog. But though neither of them knew, she can see now they’ve been building up to this for a long time.

And they both know how lucky they have been, after it all, to have found each other. They are not happy people; they have lost too much for that. And yet. Neither of them are the religious sort, they do not believe in fate. When hope has been a hard thing to come by for too long, you have to build it yourself.

Building, building, building.

The heart of a gardener, Kerrek said. When ruling gets hard, and she misses the road, Keyleth wishes she could see it like that.

But then sometimes, like now, she looks on as Grog talks to the wind, and thinks of seeds that cannot sprout unless they are first burned, and loves him more.

She could get used to this garden, she reckons.

[cameoamalthea]

AN: A preview of Reunions based on the theory Shelda is Vesper. This theory is based solely on the fact she’s the right age and race and it would be cool.

The people of VO trusted Vilya to give them an explanation. Vilya explained everything. How Vokodo was not what he seemed, and how he took their memories and used them. She told everyone that the Mighty Nein restored her memories, gesturing to the group.

“It was thanks to the Mighty Nein that I was finally free to remember who I was and what had been done to me. To everyone here. It had to end, and so together with this group of adventurers, of heroes, we have put an end to Vokodo.”

"Veridian," someone calls out a question and she corrects them.

"It's Vilya actually," she says, "Vilya of the Air Ashari."

"You're from the Air Ashari?" came a voice and everyone turned to look at a young punk-looking half-elf no more than 19 or so. Jester recognized her as Shelda, the newest crew member of the Ball Eater or she had been before the dragon turtle fucked their ship up. Were they still their crew if they didn’t have a ship anymore? Then again there were plenty of new ships to choose from behind the upside-down waterfall. Minus the ones that Caleb set on fire.

"So is she from Tal’Dorei too?" asked Veth, looking at Shelda.

"Do you think she knows who's on the council?" whispered Beau.

"You're familiar with my people?" she lowered herself down to the ground and approached the girl. The crowded parted to give them room.

"Well, my aunty Keyleth is sort of like their queen."

"You know my daughter?" The surprise in her voice only grew as she continued. "Did you say she's your aunt?"

"Well not by blood," said Shelda. "She and my uncle Vax were together, but he died before I was born, but she's always been aunty Keyleth. Wait - she's your daughter?"

"So let me get this straight," said Beau, "you're related to the queen of Tal’Dorei?"

"No, Tal’Dorei is a continent and there are different groups. Keyleth is the leader of the Air Ashari, and then my parents are the rulers of Whitestone."

"So you're like a princess," asked Veth.

"Like a secret, runaway princess?" asked Jester. "Did you have to like run away to avoid an arranged marriage and now you're trying to find your true love or-"

"What? No!” Shelda cuts her off, her face scrunched in confusion as to why Jester would assume that and she gave Jester an ‘are you serious?’ look before continuing... “ It's just," she sighed in the heavy way that only a frustrated teenager can. "Daddy is really overprotective and I was kind of sick of it, and also really bored.”

"You can't tell Keyleth I'm here. If my parents find me they're going to ground me until I die of old age. Seriously. and you know my dead uncle? Apparently, he's supposed to be some sort of eternal servant of the Raven Queen. So maybe somehow I'll be grounded after I die. Just don't tell anyone I'm here."

"Vesper?" comes a voice. Everyone turns and sees that Artagan has appeared behind them, a red-haired half-elf by his side.

“Wait, Artagan, you know her?"

"Did my parents send you?" she asked Artagan.

"What? No, haven't seen them in- oh I can't actually recall," he said, "I'm not always the best at keeping track of time-"

"So how do you know her?" asked Jester.

"She's my goddaughter," Artagan replied.

"You have a goddaughter," asked Veth.

"Oh you know, you befriend royalty, they invite you to their child's naming ceremony, you bestow a gift, they start crying in gratitude and ask if you want to be their children's fairy godparent. It's a whole thing."

"To be honest I just didn't think you had friends," Fjord admitted.

"Jester is my, of course, my best friend, however, I do have other friends that I knew before her, including Vesper's parents.”

"Wasn't your name Shelda?" asked Beau.

"My name is Lady Vesper Elaine De Rolo the First of White Stone but I was trying to keep a low profile!” “So what gift did he give you?” asked Jester. “If you could call it a gift,” she huffed.

"I bestowed a generous gift!" said Artagan indignantly. "Evil shall not see her, touch her, smell, or hear her. An evil being that would wish her harm will not perceive her even if she stands before them. Considering her entire extended family was murdered by evil people, it seemed appropriate. Percy and Vex seemed to like it." "Do you know how hard it is to have adventures when anyone that wants to hurt you doesn't know you exist? I want to fight evil, not be ignored by evil." "I mean to be honest that sounds like an advantage," observed Caleb, "you could just sneak up on evil and stab it."

[your-turn-to-role]

ayyyyy happy 4/13 have my second list of classpects, vox machina edition! (@lostsometime to add to the homestuck au)

(m9 here)

vex - thief of mind

vax - rogue of blood

percy - witch of light

keyleth - page of breath

scanlan - thief of life

grog - prince of rage

pike - heir of space

tary - witch of mind

first off, there are a couple copies here, and they don’t have a time player, so vox machina on their own could not win the game. but hey, weird plot shit exists, and the alpha kids managed it by combining their session with the beta kids, so who knows how this would go

(explanations under the cut)

1) vex - thief of mind

vex has a lot of ideas about her sense of self. but when you get right down to it, none of them are actually about her sense of self, and rather about how people see her. image is important to mind players, but it’s not really linked with identity. in fact, the canon description of mind players states they have very fluid, shifting concepts of identity, it’s far more important to them that they remain rational and have a logical line of reasoning than sticking to things just because they feel right or wrong. and i think this is very true for vex, she doesn’t often doubt herself, but she doesn’t really know who she is, beyond just what she’s trying to emulate or avoid.

thief bc she’s still one of the stealth twins, it is very her thing, but she’s definitely the louder of the two, the thief demands to be known, the rogue quietly assists. she’s headstrong, stubborn, and the world owes her everything it’s taken from her, which she definitely plans to steal back. and honestly that’s her right and i love her.

2) vax - rogue of blood

god i really love the fact that the twins are a thief/rogue pair, it not only fits who they are as people but vex being the active version of vax’s passive class and vice versa fits so well

(also fun fact, i have something of a personality test/checklist i grade characters on when i’m struggling to figure out their class or feel like i’m being biased towards one particular classpect. there’s 15 possible points per class, most characters will get a highest score of maybe 9 or 10, homestuck characters get something like 12-13. vax, however, does what no one else has ever done, and scored all 15 points in rogue. he is more rogue per rogue than any rogue in homestuck. 100% pure distilled rogue boy.)

personality quizzes aside though, he really is so obviously a rogue. he’s got everything of the thief archetype built into his entire character, but while a homestuck thief steals by their own will and for their own benefit, all of the rogue’s same actions go towards supporting their friends. also, as a passive class, their decisions tend to be less personal drive based and more guided by their aspect, as if the universe was working through them, which is definitely the case for our champion of the raven queen. they’ve been described in canon as the robin hood class, rebellious, but in an altruistic way. true punk. fuck the system, love recklessly

blood players need a family. they draw their strength from the bonds they have with those around them, they’re stubborn as all hell, especially when it seems like there’s no way out of a situation, but it’s in determination to protect their chosen family and keep everyone safe and happy. if they’re leaders, they’re inspirational ones rather than commanding ones. and this is “dramatic speeches about teamwork and morality” vax, “what the fuck do we have in this world except for moments with each other” vax, “how lucky i have been to have had all of you” vax. what else could he be?

3) percy - witch of light

so percy’s an interesting one, because i kinda wanna give him two classpects? like, if you classpect percy before or during the briarwood arc, he’s a prince of light. after that, he becomes way more of a witch. (though, to be fair, light players and witches are both incredibly prone to getting possessed, so, maybe he was a witch all along and just acted really prince-y)

he’s definitely an active class, no doubt about it. percy will fight gods to achieve his own ends. prince, being the most active class, and one designed to cause destruction, definitely suits orthax percy. but then things change, and you realise what he actually is

witches are manipulator classes, like knights, but active manipulator classes. they can’t create things out of nothing like some classes do, but instead bend and twist and transform their aspect (and the world around them, using their aspect) to achieve their goals. percy’s human, and not magic. he doesn’t have any particular special abilities in order to do things, he gets by on ingenuity and reckless bravery. that post that was going around a while ago about how all of vox machina are basically gods and percy’s just a guy with a gun does well to prove the point here, because he keeps up anyway. he’s made mistakes and there are things in the world now that he can’t change, but he does his best to work within those constraints and make as good of a world as he can with what he has

and what he has, usually, is knowledge. which is the main dominion of the light aspect, along with luck (and, you know, taliesin and dice rolling). light players are scholars first and foremost, but very rarely bookish scholars, instead the kind of scholars that think they can make a demon deal and get away with it because they’re clever enough for that, and also they’re extra enough that they’d do it anyway for the aesthetic

4) keyleth - page of breath

this was the easiest of all of these for me to do, it just slots so neatly into place. pages are a slow moving class that have to work their way around all the side quests before they get a lot of their power, but after that they’re powerhouses. they’re easily underestimated, by others and by themselves. keyleth takes a while to come to terms with herself and her power and her effect on the world, most of the plot takes place within her slowly completing her aramente, she often worries she won’t be good enough for anything that’s expected of her, but once she hits level 20 she is a master of the elements, a true leader of her people, and literally unkillable.

breath fits for two reasons. the first is being the aspect of freedom, of acting without being controlled by anyone else’s thoughts or decisions. and keyleth, for all her anxiety and all her bad luck, has never made a choice she didn’t agree with. along with vax she’s the first to speak up when she feels like the group’s moral choices aren’t holding up to her standards, when they’re moving in a direction that isn’t right. the second is that it’s the aspect of air, and the wind, and she’s literally the leader of the air ashari. she can and does in fact do the windy thing

5) scanlan - thief of life

we’ve covered life already in my nott/veth explanation, but it really is so scanlan. look at this excerpt and tell me it’s not written for scanlan shorthalt

[If you're poisoned, chances are the Life-bound have something for what ails ya. This applies to both physical and mental suffering, though it might not be a cure you'll like. They also have the tendency to put other's needs before their own, which never ends well for anyone, because the Life-bound can grow bitter if they feel their own self-care has had to be shunted aside.]

figuring out class was harder? a lot of vox machina classes are pretty difficult to figure out. prince would work to an extent because of scanlan’s self destructive tendencies, bard would work to an extent because he often feels like things are out of his hands, but i think i’m going with thief. scanlan’s more of an active class, despite playing support in dnd, he’s very self motivated and not one to listen much to the guidance of the universe. thief i feel fits with the headstrong attitude, the creative out of the box thinking, and the need for attention in a very specific way (less so having people celebrate you, scanlan enjoys that but can easily shrug it off if it doesn’t happen, it’s more causing things for the sake of knowing and having other people know that you caused them)

6) grog - prince of rage

honestly this is the one i’d be most willing to bend on? it, took me forever to come up with any kind of classpect for grog, he seems to resist being classpected. i know a lot about him as a person, but translating that into either class or aspect was just hard. but i’ve gone with prince because grog’s never stopped for anyone (except maybe pike), because it’s a destruction based class, because it’s the most active on the scale, and grog is definitely one to go do things purely because he wants to do things and wants to do them now.

rage because rage players are about truth at all costs, even if that cost is often destabilizing entire systems and leaving the rubble to pick itself back up. and it makes me think about how grog has never really wanted to disguise himself, and especially about just before the kevdak fight - he knew he would probably get killed if he went back there as himself, but he refused to go in under false pretenses, because that wouldn’t be right

7) pike - heir of space

ashley’s just always drawn to those heirs. i think though with pike it definitely is a consequence of her being in and out a lot, because she’s not just an heir, she’s an heir of space.

heirs tend to stumble into their role rather than creating it or seeking it out. on a meta level, ashley only created pike because the team needed a cleric and she worked it out from there, but as far as pike herself is concerned, she doesn’t really know what she’s supposed to be doing or what her purpose is, but she’s been trying to do her best to follow sarenrae’s teachings, trying to do her best to guide her friends, and hoping that nothing goes wrong along the way.

space, too, is an aspect of patience. it’s about valuing the journey more than the destination, it’s about seeing what the universe has in store for you and trusting that it’s just as likely to turn out good as it is bad - you’ll know when the time comes to step in, at which point space players are pretty fierce fighters. but for now, for pike, it’s trying to help her friends one step at a time

8) tary - witch of mind

tary is like percy but cheating. he has a lot more resources to work with bc he just goes out and buys shit. but the witch reasoning still stands, they are very similar people in that respect, good at working within a set of restraints so well you don’t even notice the restraints are there

mind rather than light because, tary doesn’t quite hunger after knowledge in the same way. instead he’s much more concerned with the application of it, of how to get from point a to point b as efficiently as possible, and how that benefits him. (also because he’s not nearly as extra as light players. have you met light players? like i love them but jesus christ. who let them be Like That)

[vexing-imogen]

hide your face (so the world will never find you)

Masquerade! Paper faces on parade Masquerade!

They’re the guests of honor tonight.

Fjord guesses that’s what’s supposed to happen when you’ve saved the world about half a dozen times and counting. It is a bit surreal though. Looking down at the sea of people crowding the Lavish Chateau and knowing they’re there for you, because of you.

He hasn’t joined the party yet, choosing instead to watch the revelry below from one of Jester’s childhood hiding places. He observes the masquerade through a simple face mask; a deep forest green, dappled with lighter greens, decorated with kelp and colorful sea glass, and held in place with a piece of the red cord he’s carried with him since his time on the Tide’s Breath. Jester had insisted that they all keep their masks and costumes a secret until the party, so Fjord makes a game out of searching the crowd for his friends.

Nott (Veth he has to remind himself. Not Nott anymore. Veth) er, Veth is easy enough to spot, leading Yeza around the buffet table. She’s wearing a pretty yellow dress, embroidered with delicate flowers. Her dark hair is braided into an elaborate updo, dark eyes sparkling with excitement above her broken porcelain mask.

He picks Caduceus out next, his firbolg form towering over most of the guests, but especially the white-haired gnome he’s conversing with. The beetle mask he’s wearing should be creepy as fuck, but his soft, floppy ears and long waterfall of hair soften the edges and make him look only mildly disconcerting.

Yasha would be hard to miss in a crowd, even without the large white wings that sprout from her shoulders. Her dress is midnight blue, embroidered with silver thread in patterns reminiscent of a lightning strike. Fjord thinks her white avian mask might be an eagle of some kind, but it’s hard to tell with her head ducked as it is, eyes on her dance partner.

Her dance partner being Beau. Beau, who Fjord wouldn’t recognize if he didn’t already know what her mask looked like. They’d gone shopping for masks together (Jester had pouted for hours when she found out), and he’d been the one to find the elaborate owl mask that looked a little too much like Professor Thaddeus. She’s dressed in a charcoal grey suit trimmed with blue. It has sleeves. Beauregard Lionett is willingly wearing sleeves and dancing and isn’t trying to start a brawl with the goliath from Vox Machina. He’s so proud he could cry.

It takes him a while to find Caleb. He’s sequestered himself in a dark corner (another one of Jester’s favored hiding spots), like Fjord, keeping himself separate from all of the attention and praise that none of them are quite sure they deserve. His cat mask is pushed up so he can better focus on his conversation partner. Essek, Fjord realizes with no small amount of shock. They’d invited him of course, at a banquet in Rosohna celebrating the end of the war, but none of them had expected him to actually show, Caleb especially.

Fjord searches the room for Jester fruitlessly. She isn’t by the stage, where a family of gnomes called the Shorthalt Seven play song after song. She isn’t sitting down with Allura Vysoren and her wife, Kima, who have abandoned their masks (a golden swan and a silver dragon, respectively) in favor of wine and ale. Nor is she at her mother’s side as Marion flirts with both Lord and Lady de Rolo. The Lady’s bronze dragon mask does little to muffle her laughter as her husband flushes a brilliant crimson behind a raven. She isn’t pestering Taryon Darrington, who is wearing a garish mask that can only be his construct, Doty. (the construct is wearing a mask, too. A truly horrifying thing that Fjord can only guess is supposed to be a likeness of Taryon.) In all of the music, laughter, dancing, drinking, mischief, and general chaos of the evening, Jester is nowhere to be found.

“Looking for someone?”

Fjord nearly cracks his head on a low beam jumping at the soft voice beside him. He’s halfway to summoning the Star Razor before he thinks that it might not be the best idea to run a random party guest through with a sword. He does spin towards the voice, and comes face to face with Keyleth of the Air Ashari and Vox Machina. The Voice of the Tempest. The powerful as fuck archdruid that could level the Chateau if she really wanted to.

Her rabbit mask is pushed up between her antlers, so he can see her wince and blush. “Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He waves off her apologies. “It’s fine, really,” he says, taking a breath and willing his heart to stop racing. “I just wasn’t expecting anyone else to be up here, that’s all.”

Keyleth nods, her mask slipping a little with the movement. “I get it,” she says. “Don’t get me wrong, I love getting dressed up, and the free drinks are always a plus, but the whole socializing part of events like these have never been my forte.”

“It’s not the socializing I mind,” he says, searching for the right words. “It’s being the center of attention that bothers me, I suppose. Especially when-”

“You feel like you don’t deserve any of it, and you’re terrified that everyone will realize all at once how much of a fuck-up you truly are and throw you out on your ass?” Keyleth finishes, giving him a wry grin.

Fjord laughs. “Um, yes. To all of that.”

“Unfortunately, that feeling never really goes away,” she says, shrugging. “Sorry.” She’s quiet for a moment. “Having friends helps,” she says eventually. “Getting to see the positive impact of something that you did? That helps, too.”

“Thank you,” he says. “I think it also helps knowing that you aren’t alone in what you’re feeling.”

Keyleth grins. “Don’t mention it. Now, did you need help finding someone?” Her fingertips spark with magic as she wiggles them at him. “I probably have a spell that can help.”

Fjord shakes his head. “Thank you, but sometimes it’s just nice to sit back and watch the crowd.”

She likely sees through the lie, but she doesn’t push it. “Okay,” she says awkwardly. “Well, I should probably get back before my friends send a search party after me. They can get kind of paranoid sometimes.”

He nods. “It was nice talking with you, Miss Keyleth.”

He’s turning back to search for Jester when Keyleth calls his name. He turns back to her, about halfway down the stairs, an unreadable expression on her face. “Yes?”

���One last piece of advice?” He nods. She takes a deep breath. “Don’t wait until it’s too late to tell someone how you really feel about them. It works out for some,” she adds, eyes darting to Lord and Lady de Rolo, now dancing close, lost to everyone else but each other. “But, the more time you get with someone you love, the better.”

He swallows past the lump in his throat. “Thank you,” he says quietly. “I’ll take that into consideration.”

What he doesn’t say is that he was already almost too late. They’d lost Jester during one of their recent battles. She’d gone down and Caduceus was too far away, too focused on keeping Caleb and Beau alive. Fjord and Yasha’s meager healing abilities hadn’t been enough, and, for twelve agonizing hours, Jester was lost to them. Cad was able to bring her back with Beau and Nott’s help. Fjord’s too. He’ll be damned if he can remember everything he said, but he knows he’d whispered his love to her, for only her to hear.

Keyleth is long gone when Jester’s voice interrupts his thoughts. “Fjo-ord, where are you? I’ve been looking everywhere for you. The party got too stuffy, so I went to my momma’s balcony for some fresh-”

He chuckles as her message cuts off. “Message received, loud and clear. Stay where you are, Jessie, I’ll be right up.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fjord finds Jester right where she said she’d be; in her mother’s room, out on the balcony, staring up at the night sky, the ocean breeze gently ruffling her hair. He stops to examine the mask that she’s left on the table before going out to join her. It’s a full face mask, styled after old theatre masks. One side laughing, one side crying; comedy and tragedy in one. The laughing side is a deep emerald green, the crying a jewel-bright pink, all accented with gold.

As he sets the mask aside and moves to join her on the balcony, he sees that the colors perfectly match her dress. The sleeveless bodice is patterned with harlequin diamonds, green, pink, and gold. Her skirt flares out, layer upon layer of emerald green tulle. She looks like a princess, and Fjord, in his simple mask and pirate costume, feels every inch a pauper.

The moment he sets foot on the balcony, she turns to him, and the smile she gives him wipes away any momentary insecurities.

“There you are, Fjord,” she teases. “It feels like I’ve been waiting forever.”

He grins, moves to lean against the railing. “Please accept my deepest apologies,” he says. “How ever can I make up for such a grievous error?”

Jester giggles. “Wellll, for starters, as cool as it is, you can take your mask off. This balcony has officially been declared a “no mask zone”.”

“Is that so?” he asks, smirking when she nods seriously. “I suppose I should comply, then. I wouldn’t want to break official rules.”

He unties his mask and hands it to Jester, watching as she runs her fingers over the sea glass. “This is really cool, Fjord,” she says, rubbing her thumb across a piece of kelp.

He blushes a bit, ducking his head. “Thanks, Jes. Yours is...gorgeous,” he says. “The wh-whole ensemble, really. I mean, gods, Jester, there’s rarely a day you don’t take my breath away, but tonight...gods, tonight...”

Her eyes are wide when he finally dares to look up at her, mouth hanging open just a little, a purple flush coloring her cheeks and chest. “Fjord...” She laughs a little, breathless. “Fjord, I...”

She’s speechless, searching for words, but she isn’t panicking. There are tears starting to gather at the corners of her eyes, but she’s smiling, and not the sad, pitying kind of smile she’d given Freddie de Rolo when he’d tried to kiss her, and she had to turn him down. He steps a little closer, gives her time to retreat if she wants. She doesn’t move.

He reaches up to stroke her cheek, and she leans into his touch, eyelashes fluttering. “We never did have that talk about the day you died,” he says softly. “Or about the day we brought you back.”

“No, we didn’t,” she says. She bites her lip. “What...what did you want to talk about?”

He has to close his eyes, can’t watch her face as he says what he’s about to say. “I don’t know what I would have done if we hadn’t been able to bring you back, Jester.” His head drops until his forehead meets hers. “Losing you would have destroyed all of us, certainly, but you can ask anyone, Jester. I was useless. It was only twelve hours, but it felt like a lifetime.”

She lets out a shaky breath that he can feel wash across his cheek. “And all of that stuff you said during the ritual?”

He pulls back just enough to look into her eyes. “I meant every word.”

Tears are flowing freely down her face. “Even the part where...”

“Especially the part where,” he says. “I’m in love with you, Jester Lavorre, and it shouldn’t have taken you dying for me to admit it.”

Her answering smile knocks all the breath from his lungs. Or maybe that’s her jumping to kiss him, throwing him off balance with her enthusiasm. He ends up on his back on the floor, Jester sprawled on top of him, both of them laughing hysterically.

“Oh gosh, Fjord,” Jester manages between giggles. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Jes, don’t you worry.” He pushes himself to sitting, giving her the chance to climb off of him. Instead, she settles more fully in his lap. “And you don’t ever have to apologize for trying to kiss me, alright?”

She grins, leaning in to kiss him. “Good,” she says. “Because I’m going to want to kiss you a lot. Like, a lot, a lot. I’m talking an obscene amount of kissing here, Fjord.”

He laughs, winds an arm around her waist. “I think I can live with that, darlin’.”

She rests her forehead against his. “Will you say it again, Fjord?”

He kisses her again. “I love you, Jester.”

“I love you, too, Fjord.”

[dancer4813]

Under the Mistletoe

Took some time today to edit/revise this fic I originally wrote for @teammompike​ a year ago, based on this post. It was a pleasure to revisit, and I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season!

Summary:  Keyleth gets in the spirit of Winter's Crest and takes full advantage of the opportunity. Words: 2.1k [AO3]

Pike was the first to notice the berries, when they were wandering through the streets of Whitestone examining some of the local merchants’ wares.

“Keyleth, is that mistletoe?”

Keyleth turned her head to smile down at Pike. “I’m so glad you noticed! I found some on a tree when I went out to the forest earlier, and thought it was perfect for Winter’s Crest!“

The gnome tiled her head to one side. “You know what mistletoe means, right?”

“Of course,” Keyleth said, grinning. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“I suppose…”

“Pike! Did you still wanna do the arm-wrestling contest?” Grog asked, coming over to them. “It’s startin’ soon!”

“Yes, but give me a moment!” she said, opening her mouth to say something to Keyleth before apparently changing her mind and turning back to Grog.

“Grog, do you know what mistletoe means?”

“Missle-what?”

“Mistletoe,” Pike repeated, gesturing up to Keyleth’s antlers.

“I mean, looks like berries to me,” Grog said with a shrug. “And I’ve never really liked green things, like the leaves on them. They never taste good.”

“Come here.” Pike gestured for Grog to crouch down and Keyleth went back to looking at the various jewelry on display, hiding a chuckle.

“Wait, really?” Grog exclaimed from behind her, and Keyleth turned to see Pike shushing him but nodding, grinning.

“Does that mean…”

“Only if you want to,” Pike said with a shrug. “But it’s tradition, so…”

She gave him a knowing look, and he stared at her for a moment before turning back to Keyleth.

“Do you know what mistletoe is?” he asked her. Keyleth laughed, unable to hide it, and nodded.

“I think so,” she said, and Grog considered her for a moment before stepping forward and placing a hesitant but firm kiss on top of her head, barely needing to stoop because of her height.

“Any more participants for the arm-wrestling competition?” came a general call from behind them, and Grog straightened up.

“Happy Winter’s Crest, Keyleth!” he said quickly, already backing away to get to the tables. “Pike can explain the mizzle-toes if you ask!”

“Thank you, Grog! Happy Winter’s Crest!” Keyleth shouted back with a laugh. She looked back to Pike, who was smirking.

“You don’t need mistletoe explained, do you, Keyleth?” she asked, and Keyleth shook her head.

“I think I’ve got it pretty well sorted, but thank you, Pike.”

“Well, I might as well get in the spirit of the season,” Pike said. “Right?”

“Of course! I mean-”

“Pike! Are you joining the arm-wrestling competition?” Grog bellowed from behind them.

“Yes! Give me a moment!” Pike yelled back, leaning to the side. She rolled her eyes, shaking her head with a smile, and beckoned Keyleth down to her level.

“Sorry I couldn’t stay a bit longer,” Pike said, but Keyleth only shrugged.

“Go kick their butts.”

“Anything for my favorite druid,” Pike murmured, standing on her tiptoes to kiss Keyleth on the cheek. “Happy Winter’s Crest, Keyleth.”

Keyleth returned the kiss and pulled Pike into a quick hug. “And the same to you, Pike.”

“Pike! They’re startin’!”

“Oh- gotta run!” Pike exclaimed, peeking around Keyleth’s shoulder. “See you later!”

And she ran off to join the other contestants at the array of tables in the square.

Keyleth, chuckling behind her fingers, made her way over to Scanlan, who was absentmindedly humming and tapping his foot along to a tune played by a lively string quartet. She lowered herself onto the bench at the table next to the bard, watching the musicians as he hummed.

“What’s the name of this song?” she asked, trying to sort out the rhythms and figure out if she’d heard them before. She didn’t think she had, but Scanlan seemed familiar with it.

“An old folk song,” he said, stretching and glancing toward her. “But the lyrics were…”

He trailed off, blinking twice at the white berries tied securely onto either side of Keyleth’s antlered headdress.

“What about the lyrics?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

“The lyrics?”

“The lyrics to the song,” she said, gesturing to the quartet. “You said that the lyrics were…”

“Ah, yes,” Scanlan said with a short sigh. “The lyrics were lost to time, I suppose they’d say. I once met an older bard who knew them, but I was with Dr. Dranzel at the time and we were simply passing through, so I never learned them myself.”

“That’s too bad…” Keyleth said, trailing off as the song finished.

“You know, mistletoe has a particular meaning around this time of the year,” Scanlan said, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. “A very particular meaning, if you get my drift.”

“Of course it’s got an important meaning,” Keyleth said, reaching up to adjust the berries on the left antler, doing her best to hide a smile. “Why else would I be wearing some?”

Scanlan seemed at a loss for words for a moment, and Keyleth watched the musicians arrive at the correct pages in their music, and start playing together, an upbeat and vaguely familiar tune that Keyleth was sure she’d heard at a previous Winter’s Crest - probably the one in Emon a year prior.

“I really don’t think… Oh, fuck it,” Scanlan said, hopping up from the bench to bow to Keyleth. “May I have this dance?”

“Well, if you insist, though I’m not the best dancer…” Keyleth said, chuckling as she stood and Scanlan practically dragged her to the center of the square, where a few other couples had already started something of a jig.

Keyleth had never learned many social dances - the Ashari used dance less for communal purposes and more for representing the elements around them - and she had never really been one for coordinated movement. (Her father had always said her talent made up for her lack of grace.) And yet, somehow, Scanlan was managing to lead her around the dance floor expertly, skipping between couples and keeping up with her hesitant steps despite the large height difference between them.

Well, until the song drew to a close and Scanlan attempted to dip her, his arms hardly long enough to wrap around her torso, her weight too much for him. He whistled quickly, summoning Bigby’s Hand to support her, and gave her a quick kiss on the corner of her lips that she barely was able to return before he pulled back, grinning, his chest heaving as her own was while they both gasped for air.

“Thank you for the dance, my lady,” Scanlan said, adding a flourishing arm of embellishment to his bow. “And Happy Winter’s Crest.”

“No, thank you, Scanlan,” Keyleth said with as neat a curtsy as she could perform, her face flushed with excitement and exertion. “And a Happy Winter’s Crest to you as well.”

Throat dry and spirit light, Keyleth waved goodbye to Scanlan and made her way to the tavern, coming out with a tankard of water after only a minute or so and taking a seat at one of the empty tables lining the street, looking around happily at the festivities.

“That’s some lovely mistletoe you’ve got there,” came Percy’s voice from behind her as he sat down.

“Thank you, Percy! I think it’s a nice touch, don’t you?” Keyleth asked, smirking slightly as she turned to face him.

“Very nice. Winter’s Crest-appropriate, as well.”

“Exactly. Though, it is poisonous, you know, which makes it an interesting choice for decoration.”

“Is it?” Percy asked, a smirk of his own sliding into place on his lips. “I guess I’ve never had any reason to eat mistletoe and find out, but thank you for letting me know. Now I’ll be aware should anyone try to feed me some.”

Keyleth laughed, and Percy laughed with her. He pulled her into a hug with one arm, kissing her forehead gently before releasing her.

“Has Vax seen this yet?” he asked, gesturing to the top of her headdress.

“He’s next on my list,” Keyleth said, glancing over to where the twins were standing together, cheering on Pike and Grog in the arm-wrestling competition.

“I usually wouldn’t recommend lists, but I think that’s a good plan,” Percy said, chuckling. “I’ll have to keep watch for that amusing interaction.”

“I hope it will be,” Keyleth said, reaching up to check that the vines she’d druidcrafted to hold the berries in place were still holding strong. “Well, no time like the present, right?”

“None at all,” Percy said with a knowing grin.

Keyleth made to stand, and Percy grabbed her hand.

“By the way, Happy Winter’s Crest, Keyleth.”

“Happy Winter’s Crest, Percy,” Keyleth said with a smile, waving farewell as she made her way over to the twins.

“Hello!” she greeted, approaching the two of them.

“Hello Keyleth!” Vex said, the look she gave Keyleth mildly confused until she replaced it with a wide smile and a wink. Keyleth let her own grin grow for a moment, then worked to school her expression, waiting for Vax to turn around.

“Hey, Kiki,” he said distractedly, watching Pike take down a teenager whose smug smile had been wiped clean off his face. When the gnome stood up proudly and fist-bumped

Grog, he turned to look at Keyleth with a smile that fell off his face after only a moment, replaced with a look of confusion.

“You’ve got mistletoe,” he said, tilting his head to the side.

“No shit, brother,” Vex said, elbowing him in the side. He elbowed her back.

“I just…” he seemed lost for words, and Keyleth made a supreme effort to keep herself from laughing and continue looking innocent and just a little confused at his words .

“Yes?”

“Uh, well…”

“Did you have a question?”

“Well, umm… Do the Ashari have a particular meaning for mistletoe? Being a plant, that is.”

Vax’ cheeks flushed and Keyleth lifted one hand to hide her laughter as she pretended to think about her answer.

“Mistletoe to us means life and longevity, I suppose, and can be used as a symbol of love. It’s also said to grant protection from poison, though I always find that strange since it’s actually a poisonous plant.”

Vax gulped audibly. “Is it?” he asked, his voice higher than it normally would be. “That’s interesting…”

He swallowed once and breathed deeply, then continued. “So, is there any special tradition the Ashari use mistletoe for during the holidays?” Vax asked, shifting from foot to foot with awkwardness screaming from him. Keyleth was quite sure it was the sort she was usually victim of and not witness to, and she had to admit, it felt rather good to be on the other side of things.

“We hang it up around Zephra, I suppose…” Keyleth said, deliberately vague. She found herself glancing at Vex, who smirked and winked at her from over Vax’s shoulder.

“But is there any…”

Vax made a vague gesture to his face and puckered his lips slightly.

“Is there any… what?” Keyleth probed, making Vex catch herself on a laugh.

“Yes, any what, brother?” she chimed in.

“You’re not helping!” Vax shot back over his shoulder. “Any- oh, you know!”

“Do I?”

“Kiki!”

“I don’t understand, Vax,” Keyleth said, softening her eyes with extreme difficulty, since she wanted nothing more than to burst out laughing. “Any what?”

She knew their relationship hadn’t progressed much outside the bedroom, but she hadn’t imagined such a strong reaction from him when faced with a public display of affection.

“I think he means any kisses, darling,” Vex said, stepping forward, which was all the warning Keyleth had before the ranger planted a kiss square on Keyleth’s lips.

It was a surprise, but not an unwelcome one, and Keyleth returned the kiss happily before Vex pulled away, cheeks flushed and with a sultry grin on her face.

“Vex!”

“Oh, but brother, you were just going to leave your girlfriend hanging while you stuttered about,” Vex said, turning back to him.

“That didn’t mean you had to just- I can’t believe you-”

“Vax, of course the Ashari tradition involves kissing,” Keyleth said, side-stepping Vex. “Doesn’t every tradition with mistletoe?”

“Well, I suppose,” Vax said, still looking very uncomfortable, his cheeks pink. “But then why-”

“-Did I wear some?” Keyleth asked, stepping toward him and lifting her hand to cup his cheek. “Why, just to see the look on your face, of course.”

And she kissed him, closing her eyes as their lips met, the warm breath against her face contrasting sharply with the cool air around them.

The kiss itself was soft and gentle and not at all how she had intended to kiss him, but she couldn’t complain. They held it for a long moment, then separated, and Vax sighed before resting his forehead against Keyleth’s, his cheeks still a darker pink than the winter air warranted.

“Part of me wants to be mad at you, but somehow I can’t manage it,” he said, reaching up to cover the hand that was still on his cheek.

“Glad to hear it,” Keyleth said, taking his fingers in her own. “Happy Winter’s Crest, Vax.”

“Happy Winter’s Crest, Kiki.”

[shiieldmaiden]

Acceptance and a Lack Thereof

Keyleth argues with the Raven Queen for Vax’s soul. 

y’all this is decidedly inspired by the story of Beren and Luthien, I just need you to know that going in. 

Read on Ao3 

“And as [Luthien] knelt before him her tears fell upon his feet like rain upon the stones; and Mandos was moved to pity, who never before was so moved, nor has been since.”

- J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion, Of Beren and Luthien

It was over. It was done. With literal gods supporting Vox Machina on all sides, it was done. Vecna was dead. His body was collapsed at Vax’s feet, but there was no joy in Keyleth’s heart as she crossed the battlefield to him. Vex’s voice from what felt like ages ago echoed in her head - if we defeat him, do you go away?

Do you go away?

As Keyleth approached him, the man she loved with all her heart, he finally looked up from the body of their enemy, his red and teary eyes meeting hers. Keyleth broke at that sight and ran what little distance there still was between them, flinging her arms around him and hugging him tight. Maybe, just maybe, if she held him tight enough, he wouldn’t go away. She buried her face in the musty feathers of his mantle and felt him doing the same as he hugged her back, the two of them curled around each other in what could very well be their last moments together.

“I love you, Kiki,” Vax murmured into her shoulder and she only held him tighter. His hands were getting colder.

“I love you, too,” she managed to choke out, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. Wrenching herself away from him, Keyleth leaned bak just far enough to look into his eyes. “I love you, Vax,” she repeated herself, her tears now streaming from her eyes.

Eyes that Vax noticed had taken on a flicker of grim determination. But before he could comment on it, his sister was barreling towards them and Keyleth was stepping back, allowing the twins their own moment to- to say goodbye. And step back Keyleth did. She watched with a detached sense of determination as the rest of Vox Machina said their goodbyes, exchanging hugs and heartfelt words.

Until there sounded a raven’s caw, quiet at first. Keyleth would have thought she had imagined it had Vex and Vax not looked around for the source of it as well.

It sounded again, louder, and this time, it was heard by all of Vox Machina. They froze in place, listening to the eerie call, save for Keyleth, who pushed her way through her friends to Vax’s side.

It came again, and louder still. Keyleth grabbed Vax’s hands and looked him in the eye, even as the raven cawed again, and now it sounded like a number of them, crescendoing to a deafening volume. Scanlan, Percy, Grog, Pike, and Vex clapped their hands over their ears, but Keyleth’s grip on Vax was firm and her eyes did not leave his.

She stepped in closer and rested her forehead against his.

“I don’t accept this,” she said. Her words were lost to the cacophony, but the way Vax’s face fell, the sorrow she knew he felt for her clear on his face, she knew he heard her.

And then everything was silent.

And Keyleth’s hands were empty.

Keyleth reached out to where he stood, where his face had been, but he was gone. He was gone and Keyleth was numb. She heard Vex’s cry from behind her and turned just in time to watch her collapse to the ground, her body wracked with sobs as Percy moved to her side, kneeling beside her and pulling her into his arms.

In a daze, Keyleth found herself stepping away from her friends. She needed air. She needed space. This was not the end.

I don’t accept that.

And so with her planar magic crackling at her fingertips, Keyleth turned away from her friends and began to cross the battlefield. She heard Grog calling her name as she left, heard Pike’s concerned voice asking what she was doing, but paid them no mind. She didn’t have much magic left in her, but she had enough for this. She could feel it. She could do this.

She had no tuning fork this time, no surefire way to go to the Outlands, but they had done their research. There was no room for doubt in Keyleth’s mind as she focused on the plane of the Raven Queen, on the goddess herself, and on Vax. She let the magic consume her and the transition took longer than she was used to, but she passed through the divine gate and found herself alone, landed on one knee with one hand braced against the ground to stabilize herself. Before her, Keyleth saw a massive obsidian palace, a crest of raven’s wings mounted above the open doors. Steeling herself, armed with the Spire of Conflux and just enough magic to get herself there and bring Vax back home, Keyleth strode inside.

It reminded her a bit of the temple in Vassalheim, but somehow more oppressive in its darkness. It was not completely dark - light filtered in through stained glass windows along the corridor but outside those colorful rays of light, there was nothing. Even with her keen elven sight, Keyleth could see nothing in the shadows. At last, the corridor ended and Keyleth stepped into a massive hall, or at least it felt massive. Just like the corridor, there was nothing to be seen beyond the colorful filtered light that fell upon the black stone floors. At the end of the hall was a throne and sat upon it, Keyleth saw, for the second time, the Raven Queen.

Swallowing back her panic and making herself stand a little taller, Keyleth crossed the hall to stand before the throne, her footsteps echoing off of walls she couldn’t see. She stood defiant before the enthroned goddess, drawing confidence from one her love for her found family - one of the only places she ever could.

“I must say, I am intrigued,” a low, feminine voice came from the porcelain mask before her. “Never before has anyone come to me as you have today, Keyleth, Headmaster of the Air Ashari.”

Keyleth’s eyes widened, caught a bit off guard by the use of her name before she shook it off. Of course she knew her name. That wasn’t something to get distracted over. But then the Raven Queen, massive in her size and influence, rose from her throne and came down from her daïs, her form shrinking to meet Keyleth’s as she approached the druid.

“Why should I give up what is mine?” she asked, circling Keyleth now and speaking in her ear as the half-elf’s blood boiled. “Vax’ildan agreed to a deal with me,” she wend on. “Return to life to aid in the destruction of my enemy, but only until his task was done, whereupon he would come back to me forever.” Keyleth’s hands clenched in fists as she fought back the urge to lash out at the goddess before her. “Has he not fulfilled our deal?” she asked, finally stopping to stand before Keyleth, porcelain face expressionless.

“I don’t accept that,” Keyleth finally ground out, looking up at the Raven Queen.

“Vax doesn’t deserve this,” she began, her anger flaring and her fingers sparkling with the energy of the Fire Ashari. “After everything he’s done for our world, everything he’s one for you, he has earned a long life of happiness. There are so many people who love him, who care about him, who look up to him. Every last one of them will be devastated by his death.

“Shaun Gilmore, Allura Vysoren, Lady Kima of Vord, Kynan Leore, Cassandra de Rolo, Zahra Hydris, Kashaw Vesh, the Tal’dorei family, the Ashari people, the citizens of Whitestone, Velora Vessar, his father, Grog Strongjaw, Taryon Darrington, Percy de Rolo, Scanlan Shorthalt, Pike Trickfoot, his twin sister, Vex’ahlia,” she listed, tears beginning to prick at the corners of her eyes in spite of herself.

“You?” the Raven Queen offered, an odd tone to her voice that Keyleth couldn’t put her finger on, but that one little word broke her and she let out a sob, falling to her knees before the Raven Queen.

“Me,” she confirmed, looking up at the expressionless porcelain mask.

“I’m not good with words,” Keyleth admitted, “but I know feelings. And I know the sorrow and the grief that Vax’s death will being to Exandria,” she said, before the oncoming tears became unbearable and she ducked her head, tears falling from her face like rain and splashing on the floor, a few landing on the hem of the Raven Queen’s robes.

“I can’t lose him,” she breathed through her tears. “Not again. He has so much life in him. He has so much more ahead of him. He’s done so much good in his life and there’s so much more he can do for the world, I know it. He deserves that much. I want to see him grow old with Vex. I want him to see Grog find his freedom and watch Pike helm the church of Sarenrae. I want him to see Percy find happiness and Scanlan forge a happy relationship with Kaylie.” Keyleth looked up at the Raven Queen again, her eyes red and puffy, her battle worn and grimy face cut with tear tracks. “I want to build a life with him. That’s all I want.”

The Raven Queen was silent for an agonizingly long time. In the silence, Keyleth panicked. What the fuck had she just done? Had she just traded her life for his, like he did for Vex? Would this make any difference? Had she just signed her own death warrant? Was she dead already? Would they even get to be together in death? Would the Raven Queen allow her soul into her domain beside Vax’s? Would she even consider letting his leave to join her?

The questions were never ending in Keyleth’s mind as she watched the motionless goddess before her.

“You continue to impress me, Keyleth,” she finally spoke, her voice soft. Out of nowhere, her hand appeared from within her robes and she curled a finger under Keyleth’s chin, tilting her face upwards. It wasn’t as cold as the druid had been expecting. “It does seem fitting that my champion would find love with one so,” she paused, as if searching for the right word, “audacious.”

“I must admit, you have moved me, young one,” she said, softly caressing her face. “I will offer you a choice. You may live as you have. Keep the longevity of your heritage and serve your people well, lead them and the world to prosperity and peace for centuries to come. Bring joy to the world and when your time comes, return to your ancestors in peace. If this is your choice, you may leave in peace. I will not hinder you,” she said. Then, with a flick of her wrist, a shadowy figure, transparent almost, appeared behind her and Keyleth’s heart broke for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

It was Vax.

He looked around the room, confused, until his eyes fell upon Keyleth where she knelt before the Raven Queen. His eyes widened and he tried to say something, but Keyleth couldn’t hear him. It might have been her name, but she had never been as good at reading lips as Vex. She ached to go to him and he tried to cross the room to her, but there was a goddess who required her attention and some kind of barrier that divided him from her. Keyleth looked back up at the Raven Queen.

“Or you may return to your home with my champion,” she continued. “You may live out your days as you may, as long as they may last, but your lives will be tethered. When one dies, the other will follow and those shall be your final deaths. When that day comes, you will spend your eternities in my service.”

Keyleth met Vax’s shadowy eyes across the hall again and he shook his head, grief and sorrow in his eyes, and Keyleth didn’t need to hear him speak to know that he didn’t want her to sacrifice anything for him.

But this was worth it.

“I’ve never wanted to live forever,” Keyleth said simply, turning back to the Raven Queen. The goddess tilted her head as if almost impressed by her choice, but Keyleth couldn’t imagine that that was it. It couldn’t be. She may have marched into this goddess’s palace, demanding her boyfriend’s life, but she was just some mortal.

“Very well,” the Raven Queen acquiesced all the same. She stepped back, growing in size until she seemed to fit her throne once more. With a flick of her wrist, the shadowy figure of Vax was solid again and he ran to Keyleth’s still kneeling form, skidding along the floor in his rush to hold her again. They clung to each other tight, the mere thought of letting go simply unspeakable at this point. Keyleth sobbed into Vax’s shoulder and she felt his tears beginning to dampen her shoulder. She held him tighter. She felt his heartbeat, the strongest it had been since the Shadowfell.

The par of them were then consumed by a brilliant white light and without any of Keyleth’s own magic, they were hurtling between the planes, passing through the divine gate. Keyleth chanced a look back from where they came and saw a flurry of raven feathers and couldn’t help but wonder if this was the kind of thing that Vax saw all the time.

And then they were back on the battlefield.

They landed hard and clumsy, no three point landings this time, in a muddy heap on the battlefield, a soft pop emanating from them. Keyleth’s eyes were fixed on Vax and she took his face in her hands, turning him to look right in her eyes.

“Hey,” she said, giving him a teary smile that he mirrored as he reached up to cup her face in return.

“Hey yourself,” he said. “What were you thinking?” he asked, bewildered.

“I couldn’t accept it,” she said, shaking her head, the tears returning as she brought him in to lean her forehead against his once more.

“But your life, your people-“ he started, trailing off a bit helplessly.

“You know how I’ve felt about that,” Keyleth reassured him.

“What about your life after death? You won’t see your ancestors, your mother,” he argued, leaning back to look her properly in the eye, clearly distraught. Keyleth shook her head at him.

“They’re gone. I’ve made my peace with that,” she said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his pointed ear. “I’d rather share a life with you than face eternity alone.”

They were then startled out of their reverie by a shout they recognized in a moment. Turning at the sound of Grog’s voice, they saw the entirety of Vox Machina charging for them, Vex pushing her way to the front, looking somewhere between elated and murderous. Without saying anything yet, she yanked her brother to his feet and crushed him in a hug. When they separated, she gave him a weak punch to the shoulder and turned to Keyleth.

“What the fuck did you do?” she asked, carefully concealed tears in her voice.

“I- well, I-“ Keyleth started to say, caught off guard by Vex’s intensity.

“She got in an argument with a fucking god,” Vax spoke up. “And she won,” he said, pulling Keyleth into his arms and pressing a kiss to her hair. Keyleth hugged him back, burying her face in his chest.

“I can explain,” she said, turning her face so she was at least somewhat audible. “But he’s back. For real this time.”