#who turned to his Magician and called to him first after yasha—

[dent-de-leon]

Cannot stop thinking about all the reasons why Kingsley would absolutely drop everything and go running to save Beau and his Magic Man if he knew what happened to him—

[simplysparrow14]

I’d love to hear about all your writing, but you know me: the one titled “We are not always what we seem, and hardly ever what we dream” immediately piqued interest 👀

ahhh Thank You!!

This fic is mainly inspired by Snow White, more importantly, just the themes of Snow White in general. The notion of friendship and friend-groups, dreaming of love, finding a home that accepts you as you are, regardless of circumstance just really spoke to me.

The entire premise is that Caleb, after years of abuse from Trent in the Soltryce academy, finally gets the courage to escape. He leaves behind Astrid and Eadwulf in his desperate flight and traverses Wildmount, never stopping because of the fear that Trent and the rest of Academy are hot on his trail. He tries his best to steer clear of towns and large cities, and in the process becomes a street-rat, scrounging for food in trash bins and waste disposal carts, even going so far as to threaten normal, unwilling people on the roads, demanding their food (he still regrets the one couple he robbed on the highways; it had been snowing and so very cold, and Caleb had been so hungry. They looked rich. They sounded of money. Calling forth his magic, he threatened the wife with fire. The husband had been fast, and in his fear, Caleb burned him. He ran into the night with their wallet, the cries of anguish still in his ears, and he's sorry, so very sorry...)

In the daylight, Caleb is nothing more than a wandering miscreant, But at night, he is a dutiful student, practicing his charms and cantrips. It puts him at ease knowing that, at the end of the day, after his escape, he still has something to call his own.

Eventualy, Caleb comes across The Fletching and Moondrop Traveling Carnival. In this version, the entire M9 are circus performs (Yasha as a strongman, Jester as a general clown/magicians assistant, Veth and Beau as part of a 2-person acrobat show, Fjord as a swordsmaster.) In this version, Caleb is brought into the group by Molly (insert Muppet charismas carol "Who did NOT die") to be the circus' newest magician. It does take a few weeks for Caleb to be comfortable with everyone but the days that follow are some of the warmest and happiest that he's had in a long, long time.

Caleb is instantly loved by the small children (and by jester) who adores his intricate magic. He makes glowing animals and trinkets out of thin air and during one particularly rowdy show, he turns his magic toward Jester, creating for her the pink horses and lollipops she loves dearly. Jester is instantly smitten with him, charmed by his quiet stance, his intense eyes. He's nothing like the magicians who called the circus home. He's nothing like her, who delights in tricks but scoffs at gifting (she's still learning). Each piece of magic that he crafts for the children is special and unique, thoughtful in a way that none of the other's had been before.

Admittedly, Caleb also becomes smitten with Jester. In the after hours of the shows, she's the first to greet him in his rooms. She sits with him, marveling at the amount of books and tomes he's managed to fit within the small space. At every opportunity, she's smiling at him, and the way his heart flutters at the sight is nothing short of electric. He likes everything about her, including her super scuffy slightly-dead looking ferret who somehow survives She's nothing like Astrid and certainly nothing like the other people he's had clandesdine crushes on. She's a dream made real to him and he's more than willing to waste his magic on simple circus tricks if it means

Eventually, things between Jester and Caleb start happening. She and Caleb start preforming acts together (think a very Zendeya/Zack Efron "Rewrite the Stars" moment) delighting the crowd with their grand shows. Caleb, for the first time in his life, feels appreciated and loved, and most of all safe.

However, all of it comes crashing down when Astrid and Eadwulf arrive one day, along with Trent, who's disguised himself as a simple old man. Releaved that his is alive, Astrid and Eadwulf beg him to return, that Trent, in the event of Caleb's escape, has changed his ways. However, when the two are far from ear-shot, Trent returns to his absuive and manipulative ways. He's been at the circus before, watching Caleb from a distace, and has noticed how he looks at the pretty little tieflight clown.

With whisperd words, Trent preforms the same spell that he used on Caleb to destroyed his parents, twisting his memories. Trent then gives Caleb a peice of food (I cant decide on either a powerderd donut or a cupcake) to give to Jester. As Jester is about eat the food, Caleb snaps out of it just in time to wresle Jester for it, and in his haste to get it away from her, Caleb takes the plunge and eats it. The poison within the food actives and Caleb falls into a death like sleep.

That's about as far as I got with the outline. Obviously it'll end with a Trent vs M9 fight, Jester kissing Caleb awake and a happy, perfect ending.

[failedskillcheck]

Change with the Tides (Part 1/??)

A/N: Hiya! This is a little thing that I wanted to write, where the reader is a changeling wizard/rouge working for the Gentleman and joins the Mighty Nein! This takes place around 2x14-2x16. I’ll probably write it for the whole campaign.

You grew up in the various orphanages of Wildemont, starting in Port Damali, then Alfeild, Nogvurot, Trostenwald, Rexxentrum, and Deastock, eventually ending up in Zadash.

Due to your race, people found it hard to trust you. You didn’t really blame them, you had been picking pockets since you were seven. In Alfeild, you managed to steal a few spellbooks off of a traveller and began teaching yourself magic. Mostly Illusion spells, but you got your hand on some water-based magic as well.

When you grew out of the system, you were in Zadash, so you went about looking for the Gentleman. By the time you were 23, you had a secure career with him.

That is until a group barged into the underground bar, a strange collection of individuals calling themselves the Mighty Nein… but there were only seven.

From your seat at the bar, you couldn’t see them. You subtly put up your usual disguise, a human woman with brown hair and dark eyes, except you keep the hair a platinum blonde, the closest colour to your true form.

Cree noted one of the adventurers, a purple teifling she called Lucien. The man was a literal peacock. In fact, you’re pretty sure you saw a peacock tattoo creeping up his neck. You noted the others. An aloof half-orc, an energetic blue teifling, a massive woman who could probably crush you, a human woman in Cobalt Soul blue, and a human man in dirty brown clothing, sticking close to a small goblin. The goblin surprised you. You were all too aware of what people thought of monstrous races like hers.

The group went to the Gentlemans’ table, and you snickered, sipping on your drink. Then, Clive comes over and leans over the bar, “He needs you.” You sigh, down the rest of your drink, and walk over to the table, knowing that the drink will be paid off later.

“What’s up Boss?” You say as you reach the table, grabbing the chair closest to him. You’re his best employee. He knows that, everyone here knows that. There’s very little you can’t get away with.

“Ah, Y/N. Meet the Mighty Nein. You may recognize those two,” he gestures to the purple teifling and the monk, “as the two who murdered the High-Rictor. They’ve agreed to do me a favour, in exchange for me clearing their names.”

“So you’re the sorry sods he’s making go to that blasted facility,” you turned your head to the Gentleman, “Let me guess, I’m going with them?”

“You are the one who found it.”

“So when do we leave?” You asked, looking back at the group, who all seemed to be talking to one another. All of them except for the half-orc, who was instead watching you.

“Tomorrow, we need to prepare first.”

The Gentleman waved you off, and you went to your bed in the upper part of the Evening Nip, then preparing some things for your mission tomorrow. You went down to the bar, waiting for the Mighty Nein.

They finally arrived, and they were blindfolded and escorted to a dock, where you parted ways with you’re colleagues and rowed down the river with the Mighty Nein. You led them down the river, not talking and very aware that the half-orc and the monk were watching you. The Nein then decides to pull a race, and the goblin uses her ring of water walking. Until she hits a rock.

As she’s being pulled into the boat, you see a dark mantle drop, wrapping around her head, as well as the man and the half-orc. Luckily, you’re able to defeat them with almost no injuries.

“Those weren’t there before, I swear.” You say as the monk woman accuses you of trying to kill them. As she’s yelling at you, she stops and urges everyone to go faster due to rock monsters.

You drift downward before docking and sitting on the gravel beach as the large woman and blue teifling clear the rockslide.

“Mind telling us your name?” the half-orc asks, sitting beside you,

“Y/N,” you say, looking over, “And no, no last name. What about you?”

“I’m Fjord,” he says, then points to his party, “That there’s Beauregard and Jester. Then Mollymauk and Yasha. Those two are Caleb and Nott.” He pointed to where the goblin was braiding flowers into the man’s hair.

“Right. Apologies for the cave-in, when I first discovered this place, my group got attacked, one of them decide to destroy the wall.”

“Not a problem Y/N!” says Jester, clearing away the last rocks, “See, already cleared”

Mollymauk walks over and offers you his hand to helo you get up, as he does, he pulls you close to whisper in your ear, “Do you have any clue who I was?”

Was. Interesting choice of words, Mr. Mollymauk. “No, Cree seemed to though. So whatever little gang you two were in, I certainly wasn’t a member.”

“Something tells me there’s more to you than meets the eye Y/N, and I for one, am interested to find out what.”

Mollymauk back off at my shocked expression, walking away before saying over his shoulder, “And it’s just Molly, dear.”

We go down the stairs, through many trapped rooms (which Nott kept forgetting to check, leaving you to pick up her slack), Fjord almost falls down a pit, before finally reaching a large chamber.

The first thing you notice in the room is a teleportation circle, though it’s broken. You tell this to the Nein, which makes Caleb give you a quizzical look “And how do you know what a broken teleportation circle looks like?”

“I may be nothing more than a thief, but I am somewhat educated.”

You all begin searching around, and eventually, Caleb finds a journal written in Draconic. As you discuss it, the temperature drops and a skeletal form stretches from the group, ghastly skin stretched over its face.

“My secrets are yours.”

After that, you and the Nein launch into battle, and shockingly, you all fight very well together, working in sync.

You watched Jester sink to the ground, your own head pounding from the mental attacks. Molly charged at the undead Siff Dunder, and you shouted “Finish this Mollymauk!” as you ran towards Jester, giving her a healing potion you kept in your pocket.

The temperature drops again, cold energy emerging from a bookshelf. You can physically see Caleb remembering something, his eyes lighting. He mentions a physical form, like will o’ wisps and you swear under your breath as a series of attacks knocks Yasha unconscious. Jester is by her side instantly, healing her, before she and Beauregard pull down the bookshelf.

A large urn stands amongst pots and small cases, and Molly reaches through and destroys the urn. Siff, who was just attacking you and Fjord as you tried to distract it, disintegrates, and you both breathe a sigh of relief.

You all take a bit of time to collect yourself, and Fjord once again sits beside you, “Alright, I need to know. Why no last name?”

“Never got one.” You said, drinking from your waterskin and checking for any injuries.

“Orphan?”

“Yeah”

You notice a flash of something like sympathy on his face, and but in “I don’t need your pity. I’m perfectly fine without parents.”

“I was gonna say me too.”

You look at Fjord, “Right, sorry.”

Fjord looks like he’s about to ask another question, but you’re interrupted by Nott rubbing oil on herself and squeezing through the hole. Yasha just breaks the wall.

Why was that hot? You think to yourself

You see Nott bent over a case with her thieves tools out, trying to open a lock. Two minutes pass and you hear a gas leak and repeated coughing. “Poison,” she croaks, handing out the jewelry she found, even handing you a piece.

Beauregard searches through the urns, finding a spellbook, which she gives to Caleb. He traces some pattern in the air and finishes the spell, looking around the room. Your back is turned, but he gives you a look, nodding at Beau. You’re definitely hiding abilities other than the rouge ones you’ve displayed.

He points out a sword called the Magicians Judge, which Yasha takes. Molly, Jester, Fjord, and Beau leave to investigate further down the river, while you make camp with Caleb and Nott.

“You know magic,” Caleb says after a long stretch of silence. “How?”

A simple question, but you were reluctant to answer, Fjord already knows too much about you. “I stole some books off of a travelling wizard when I was 15. I was going to sell them, but they seemed interesting, so I taught myself.”

“How old are you?” Nott asked in between sips of her flask.

“23.” You answer, resting your head on your bag.

“What spells do you know?”

“Just a few illusions. Makes thievin’ easier.”

The interrogation seemed to stop then, and a few minutes later, the others return, and you all fall asleep.

You dream of being chased through Alfeild after stealing the books. You ran and ran, jumping on carriages until you deemed yourself far enough away. Late nights of learning magic, trying to get a hold on precious components with no money. Slowly learning.

When you woke up, you realized you shouldn’t have slept around strangers, your true form peeking through. You shift slowly back, keeping your cloak wrapped around you.

“Fjord, you have a little something right here.” Jester says, pointing out the dried blood on the corner of his mouth.”

“Oh, yeah, I grind my teeth,” Fjord explains blushing slightly as he wipes it. As he does you notice his tusks are shorter than other half-orcs you’ve seen.

Jester notices it too and starts questioning him about them. Fjord gets nervous and says “When I was younger, they used to make fun of my teeth, so I got rid of the target.”

“The kids at the orphanage?” You ground out, all too familiar with asshole kids

“Yeah, it just kinda became a habit.”

“Did you ever kill them?” Yasha asked, looking very serious,

Nott quickly became concerned “Yasha. Have you ever killed a kid?”

No answer.

Immediately, the Mighty Nein promised that if he grew them out they’d support him. You had a moment then. These people hadn’t known each other long, minus a couple of obvious pairings, but you could tell they were good people. Certainly better than the Gentleman’s goons.

You all make your way up to the Gentleman’s lair, keeping quiet. You’re lost in thought, right up until you take the blindfold off of the Nein. You pull Fjord aside before he gets to the Gentleman.

“I still have to talk to the Boss about it, but would it be alright if I maybe tagged along with you guys for a bit? You seem like good people, and I think I need a change of company.”

“I’d have to talk to the other, but I don’t have a problem with it. You’re a good fighter Y/N, we could definitely use you.”

You nod and wait for the Mighty Nein to finish the meeting with the Gentleman before you sit down with him.

“Hey, Boss?” You say, waiting for permission to speak, “I was thinking, I might try travelling around a bit. I’ve never been good at staying in one place, you know my past. And those Migh-”

The Gentleman held up a hand, and you felt the entire bar fall silent. He was going to say no, you knew it.

“Y/N, you’ve been my best employee for the last several years. Your talents are unmatchable, and I don’t think I’ll ever find a replacement. But I get it. A change of pace is always needed. Go pack up your things, and don’t worry about your bar tab, I’ll pay.” He slid a pouch of gold across the table, “Here’s a little something to start you off.”

Holy shit.

“Thank you, sir.”

The Gentleman nodded, and you ran to pack your things. Fjord said something about the Leaky Tap, so you headed over. Right away, Jester threw her arms around you.

“Welcome to the Mighty Nein!”

[minister-for-femslash]

The Lovers

Summary: After a close call, Beau and Yasha are forced to confront their feelings and have a long overdue conversation. 

Pairing: Beau/Yasha

Word Count: 7,061

Warnings: Character death (temporary) 

Yasha goes down first.

Two guards are on her, flanking her and as she deflects the first blow with the Magician's Judge, the second is thrust deep in her back.

Beau hears them laugh and turns just in time to see Yasha fall. She knocks back the guard she's been fighting with a quick kick to the chest and charges over. She swings her staff, high and wide, and cracks the guy that stabbed Yasha in the back of the head. He drops dead instantly. The other is already bringing his sword down to finish Yasha off and Beau almost doesn't get her staff up in time to deflect the blow.

She stands over Yasha. Positions herself defensively. Protecting her.

It's awkward.

Yasha's arms are splayed out. Beau can't quite get in the right place to take Patient Defence. The guard flies towards her, swinging his sword. The blade carves through her flesh. She takes more blows than she's expecting. Blood pours down her arms. It streaks across her fingers and her grip on her staff becomes slippy.

She's losing and Beau knows it. But that's okay. She just needs to hold him at bay. She just needs to protect Yasha long enough for Jester or Caduceus to deal with their own problems and throw out a quick healing spell. She can do that.

And then it all goes wrong.

The guard aims for her chest and Beau instinctively steps back. Her foot lands on the hilt of the Magician's Judge. She stumbles. It's all the opening the guard needs.

His blade slices through her throat.

Beau hears someone scream. She thinks it might be Jester and when a brightly coloured lollipop slams into the side of the guard's head, knocking him out, she's certain.

Beau's hands clamp down on her neck. Blood pours out. It's spills through her fingers, down her arms and seeps into her robes. She tries to speak, but nothing comes out but a gurgle and Beau knows, she just broke Dairon's cardinal rule; stay alive.

Her vision blurs and her knees buckles. She collapses down, landing on something soft instead of the cold, hard ground. Yasha. It's the last thought she has before the world fades to black.

-----

The ground feels wet beneath her cheek. There's music, it echoes around her; happy and bright, a song of invitation. Her eyes open and she sees grass, bright and green, and multiple pairs of feet moving past her.

Beau rolls onto her back. There's no pain, not in her chest and not in her throat, but she checks anyway. The wounds are gone, and so is the blood, her robes are now somehow pristine, like the day she first got them, there's no sign of sweat or dirt.

She sits up and checks the rest of her, and is surprised to find she's fine, better than fine in fact, not only have her wounds gone but so have her scars, some of them years, even decades old, including the one on her chest, the one that...

Yasha...

It hits her like a punch to the gut, the memory of the sword ripping through Yasha, and Beau quickly vaults to her feet. She spins round, desperately searching, but there's no sign of Yasha. No sign of Jester, or Caleb, or any of the others. She's not in the castle any more, she not in Rosohna any more. The sun is high, it shines bright and Beau can feel the heat on her skin. The sky is the brightest of blues and there are trees, tall with thick branches and bright green leaves.

In the distance is a large blue circus tent, with a little flag on top that seems to shimmer with a a type of ethereal glow.

More people move past her. They're happy, with large, and in Beau's opinion creepy – too much teeth – smiles on their faces. Some of them are running, one or two are even skipping their way towards the tent which suddenly looks eerily familiar, almost like Beau has seen it before.

The music gets louder and it's gentle harmony washes over her, wraps around her like a soft warm blanket and beckons her forward.

Beau walks towards the tent.

“I wouldn't go in there if I were you.”

The voice causes Beau to stop dead. A sharp chill runs through her and goosebumps rise on the back of her neck.

“Apparently they have a toad man who turns people into zombies.”

And now Beau remembers where she's seen that tent before. Trostenwald. The circus.

She turns and standing just a few feet behind her is a familiar purple tiefling. His red eyes shine bright, and the jewels and diamonds that adorn his horns and his fingers sparkle under the sunlight. He's missing his cloak and his swords, but his smile is exactly as she remembers it, large and just a little bit cocky.

“Hey Molly.”

“Hey.” A deck of tarot cards suddenly appears in his hand and he spins them nimbly between his fingers. “Fancy a reading?”

Beau frowns. “No thanks. You know I hate that crap.”

“You sure? It's an afterlife special, any question answered with complete and total honesty.”

“Afterlife? So I'm dead then?”

“Yeah, but you already knew that, and I don't think it's going to stick.” With a flick of his wrist a card jumps out of the deck and Molly catches it between his teeth.

Beau gives him a slow, sarcastic clap, Molly bows anyway and then holds the card out for her. Beau takes it with more than a little reluctance.

The background is bright yellow, a young man with blonde hair and a stick slung over his shoulder stands on a rocky shore as a wave crashes behind him. His hand is stretched out and in his palm rests a single white rose.

“I don't get it.”

“That's because you're not looking close enough.”

Beau sighs and brings the card closer. The image shimmers and changes, the blonde man transforming into a blue tiefling in a pretty yellow dress, the stick turning into a large serrated lollipop and the white rose becoming a diamond that Beau is certain is worth at least three hundred gold. The words at the bottom of the card read 'The Jester.'

“Revivification?”

“Told ya', it isn't going to last, so take your chance while you have.” Molly fans out the cards in front of her. “What do you want to know? Ask me anything?”

“Is Yasha okay?”

Molly hums, he clicks his fingers and another card jumps out of the desk. This one hangs in the air between them, slowly rotating. Beau can see that it's blank and she frowns. Molly, however, stares at it intently and with a click of his fingers the card sparks, flames shoot out, consuming it, devouring it and leaving behind nothing but ash and smoke that rises up towards the sky.

“Yasha is Yasha. But she's alive, I'll take that,” Molly says.

“Yeah, me too.”

“You did good, protecting her the way that you did. I'm proud of you.”

“Thanks. I just wish I could've done the same for you.”

“Oh that's... That's -” he gives a dismissive wave of his hand - “water under. It wasn't your fault.”

“You sure about that. 'Cause I was right fucking there and I couldn't do anything. I should've been faster or smarter or something. You shouldn't be dead.”

“Ah, but death is never the end. It's just the beginning of a different journey.”

Beau rolls her eyes. “Come on, are you really trying to sell me that bullshit cliché?”

“It might be a bullshit cliché, but it also happens to be the truth, which is nice for me.”

“So you're good?” Beau asks.

“As much as anybody can be, yes.”

Beau feels the overwhelming urge to hug him and so she does. Molly squeezes her tight, lifts her off her feet.

“I miss you,” Beau whispers.

“Of course you do. Who wouldn't?”

There's a loud crack and a roll of thunder, the sun fades and the sky turns grey. Lightening streaks across the sky. It hits the tent and it quickly bursts into flames.

“I think that's your exit,” Molly says.

Beau's body becomes heavy, her legs begin to shake as she struggles to stay on her feet. She looks at the cards in his hands and presses her lips together. She's tempted, incredibly tempted. She reaches for Molly and grabs his hand, and for a moment he's the only thing holding her up.

“Will I see you again?”

“I can practically guarantee it, just not anytime soon, I hope.”

“What if I don't want to go back?”

“Don't be ridiculous. She's waiting for you. Here. Take this -” he presses something into the palm of her hand - “she won't be able to tell you, so you'll have to tell her. Bye Beau.”

“Bye Molly.”

He lets go of the her hand and Beau drops. She closes her eyes as she hits the ground and then just falls right through. Falls, and falls, and falls.

-----

Beau gasps.

The air floods back into her lungs. Her heart suddenly kick starts, once again pounding in her chest, and a warmth slowly spreads through her.

Something is wrapped around her; large, muscular arms that seem to cradle her.

“Beau, Beau!” Jester's voice is high, panicked. “Be okay, Beau. Please. Please be okay.”

A hand grasps Beau's own and squeezes it tight, and she slowly opens her eyes. Her vision is blurry and she has to blink, once and then twice before it begins to clear. Jester leans over her, her face so close that Beau has to pull back. Jester's eyes are wide and Beau thinks she can see tear stains on her cheeks.

“Beau!”

“Hey.”

“You're alive again.” Jester throws herself forward and hugs Beau's waist.

“We were worried there for a minute, I thought I was going to have to find a new first mate,” Fjord says.

The Mighty Nein are crowded around her, each with their own look of concern.

“I'm okay, I'm good.” Beau tries to lift herself up and the world immediately starts to spin.

“I got you,” Yasha whispers in her ear.

Beau feels Yasha's arms tighten just slightly and she's pulled back down, being cradled once again, and Beau doesn't hate it. Her heart beat quickens, for just a second, there's this flutter. Yasha's grip is comfortingly strong. “We should go.” Yasha stands up and Beau is gently lifted into the air.

It's not the most ideal situation, but being carried by Yasha is definitely a good way to travel, so Beau doesn't complain and just rests her head against Yasha's chest. She's tired, exhausted even and her eyes close. When she opens them again, the first thing she sees is their tree with it's vibrant green leaves, perched on top of their roof. Yasha has carried her all the way back to the Xhorhouse and she missed it.

Veth rushes ahead and opens the door so that Yasha can carry her across the threshold, and then lay her down on the small sofa in living room, her feet hanging off the side. Jester quickly grabs a cushion and places it behind her head, before she sits on the floor next to her, her tail swishing from side to side.

“I was so worried, Beau,” she says. “You didn't come back right away, like Veth and Caduceus did. I thought it didn't work.”

“Yeah, sorry, I was...” Beau stops. She thinks of Molly, of his smile and of the card that he thrust into her hand. There's no card in her hand now, and then she looks at Yasha, who has disappeared into the kitchen and is currently pouring water into a bowl, and decides that there's no need to mention Molly. “Just being stubborn, I guess.”

Jester laughs. “Well, I'm glad you're back.”

“Me too.”

Yasha comes back with the bowl of water and a cloth. She sits on the sofa, right next to Beau's hip and as she dips the cloth into the water Beau pulls back slightly and tries to sit up because letting Yasha carry her back is one thing, but this, this is making her feel babied, like she's a burden.

“I'm fine.”

“You're hurt,” Yasha says.

“No really, I'm good.” Her hand instinctively goes to her neck. The wound is gone, completely but her robes and her skin are covered in dry blood. The slashes on her arms and chest are still there.

“Please,” Yasha says. “Just let me help you.”

Beau softens a little.

“I can cast cure wounds, but I'd need to sleep first,” Jester tells her.

“No it's... It's okay, I'll cooperate.” Beau slowly removes her robe. Her wounds throb and pulse with pain, and she grimaces as she throws it over the side of the sofa, where it's quickly scooped up by Caduceus and she's left in just her tank top.

Yasha gently pushes it up and her fingers brush against Beau's waist. Beau's mouth goes dry as Yasha's hands move across her stomach, her fingers almost dancing around the wounds.

“Am I hurting you?” Yasha asks.

“No, you erm -” Beau clears her throat - “you have a very soft touch.” It's so cheesy and Beau regrets the words the moment she says them.

Yasha laughs. “Good to know.”

And now Beau doesn't feel so bad.

“Hey, Jester,” Fjord says. “Do you want to come and give me a hand with this?”

“Okay, sure.” After another quick glance at Beau, Jester jumps to her feet and follows Fjord upstairs.

Yasha waits until it's just the two of them before she takes the cloth and presses it against Beau's skin. There's a flash of pain and Beau's body tenses, her stomach muscles twitching, and Yasha freezes.

“Sorry,” she says.

“It's okay.”

Yasha moves slower this time. She deals with the wounds first; taking so much time and so much care that Beau barely feels the damp cloth moving across her skin. Yasha's eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, her tongue poking out from between her lips. She looks so intense, so beautiful that Beau can't help but watch her.

With the wounds cleaned as best they can be, Yasha moves on to wiping the blood from Beau's neck and chest, the water in the bowl slowly turning a deep, dark red. Yasha's hand rests on Beau's hip, her grip tightening slightly as she concentrates.

When Yasha is finished she drops the cloth into the bowl and places it on the floor. She doesn't move back and she doesn't remove her hand, instead she looks up and Beau is caught off guard by the intensity of her gaze.

“Thank you, for what you did,” Yasha says.

“No p...”

“But please, don't do that again. I don't think I could stand losing you. I definitely couldn't stand being the reason you're gone.

“Yasha....”

“Promise me.”

“I can't promise I won't die.”

“Then promise you won't die for me.”

Yasha stares up at her and Beau can see tears forming in her eyes, it makes her want to promise, to say yes to everything and anything that Yasha wants, but she can't. She can't because she knows that it's a promise she won't be able to keep, if Yasha's in trouble she'll jump into the fray without a thought, she knows that now.

So she doesn't promise, instead she places her hand on Yasha's cheek. Beau leans forward, making her intentions clear and that's when Yaha finally pulls back.

“I should let you rest,” Yasha says.

“Right, yeah, okay.” Beau watches as Yasha practically rushes from the room before she throws herself back against the sofa.

'Fuck.'

She stays on the sofa for a few minutes, her cheeks burning with embarrassment before she decides to head upstairs and at least try to get some sleep.

Jester is already in their room, perched on the edge of her bed, drawing in her journal. “Hey Beau, are you okay?”

“Yeah fine, I'm just tired.” Beau flops down onto her bed and immediately closes her eyes.

“Shouldn't you be downstairs with Yasha?” There's a wet smacking sound and when Beau opens her eyes she sees Jester puckering her lips in an over exaggerated kissing motion.

“Yeah. I don't think that's going to happen.”

“Why not? She likes you, I can tell.”

“Well, she clearly doesn't like me enough. I think I'm going to get some sleep.”

“Okay. I'm going to stay up and draw for a little while. Look.” Jester turns her journal around and she shows Beau the drawing. It's not finished, but Yasha's face is very clear, contorted in agony as she holds something not yet drawn. “It's you and Yasha.”

“Jester that's -” Beau takes a breath and smiles - “really good.”

“Thanks.”

Despite Beau's best efforts she doesn't get a lot of sleep that night, she just tosses and turns, and the sound of Jester's gentle humming, which most nights she finds relaxing, even comforting, is tonight just an obstacle to her sleep, and when the humming finally stops as Jester herself falls asleep, it's replaced by the incessant whistle of the wind outside.

When she does finally fall asleep she's plagued by a nightmare; Jester's drawing, in technicolour and surround sound. Yasha screaming, it's a horrifying sound, even in her dreams and when she wakes up, her ears still ringing with it and Beau knows that there's no way she can go back to sleep now, despite still feeling exhausted.

Beau takes a shower, allowing the hot water to wash away her last few aches and pain. She looks down at the scar on her chest. Beau has no memory of the sword being driven through her, but she can remember the guilt and the shame on Yasha's face afterwards, the way Yasha couldn't quite look at her when she cast healing hands.

'Maybe we missed our chance.'

When she gets back to her room, her robe has been laid out on her bed, cleaned and dried, and Beau makes a note to thank Caduceus next time she sees him. She's just pulled it on when she sees it, a small card resting on her pillow.

“What the fuck!?” Beau quickly picks it up.

It's a tarot card and she immediately feels a little queasy. The card is not new, the colours are slightly faded and there's a crease in the corner. The image isn't as dramatic as the one Jester drew, but it's the same moment in time; Yasha cradling Beau's blood soaked body. “Jester! Jessie!”

Beau heads downstairs.

She finds Yasha in the kitchen with Veth and Caleb, the three of them are cooking and it smells good, whatever it is, but Beau doesn't stay to find out. She doesn't even acknowledge them, she just keeps her head down, even as she can feel Yasha's eyes on her and heads outside.

Jester is in Caduceus' vegetable garden.

“Jessie, is this yours?” She shows Jester the card.

“Wow. That's really good, Beau. Where did you get it?”

“It was on my pillow. You didn't draw it.”

“No. But I like it.”

“Oh.”

Beau looks at the card again, that queasy feeling gets stronger, and something wedges in the back of her throat. The image has changed, it's black, with a moon in the background, and instead of her and Yasha, it's a young couple, a woman in a long flowing white robe being held by a man dressed in black. They're kissing.

“Right okay,” Beau mutters to herself. She runs her fingers across the card, smoothing it out and then gently places it into the pocket of her robe.

“Hey.” Yasha stands in the doorway. Her voice is quieter, sadder, if that's somehow possible. “Caleb's found something.”

A piece of parchment has been laid out on the kitchen table, it takes up the entire thing, the burnt edges hanging just over the side.

“It's blank,” Beau says.

“No. The information is merely hidden.” Caleb takes something mushy, almost liquid out of his pouch, he smears it across the parchment and then holds his hands above the table and recites a few arcane words that Beau doesn't understand. The parchment starts to glow, thin, gold lines snake across it, forming patterns, creating an image and in the middle, sits a little red cross. “It's a map.”

“Well, it's good to know I didn't die for nothing. That's nice.” Beau laughs and quickly looks around the table, but nobody joins her.

“A map to what?” Fjord asks.

“I don't know, but the Bright Queen sent us to that castle, so whatever it is it must be important to the Dynasty. I think we should go there.”

“And where is there exactly?” Fjord asks.

“You see here -” Caleb points to a portion of the map that looks like mountains, the red cross in the middle of them - “they could be the Penumbra Range, near Bazzoxan.”

Beau looks over at Yasha, who's head drops slightly. “Maybe we should -” Beau sighs - “give this to the Bright Queen and let her people handle it.”

“What?” Caleb looks at her, confused. “Whatever this is it's powerful enough for somebody to keep hidden. Maybe we can use it to bring down the Assembly.”

“We don't even know what it is.”

“Well, we will if we go there,” Jester says.

“I just don't think a maybe is worth the risk.” Again Beau looks at Yasha, who's gaze now seems permanently fixed on the floor.

This time the others notice her looking.

“Oh Yasha, I'm sorry. I didn't think!” Jester exclaims.

“It's fine. Caleb's right. We should go there, it might be important.”

“Are you sure?” Beau asks and Yasha finally looks over at her. “If it's too much...” They hold each other's gaze for a moment.

“I'll be fine,” Yasha says, but she doesn't sound sure.

-----

The travel to Bazzoxan is much easier this time. The moment Essek sees the map he immediately agrees to take them, something that Beau files away for later, he even knows exactly where in the Penumbra Range the red cross is and drops them right at the entrance to what is a perfectly formed tunnel with a stone door.

“Are you coming with us, Essek?” Jester asks.

“I'm not really a fighter, but good luck.” And just like that he's gone.

Beau walks towards the door and studies it. There's something carved into the stone, a small square that's split into four. She traces it with her fingers and it suddenly disappears. “Oh shit.”

There's a click and the door slowly opens.

Beau steps back.

“Hey, you got it open. Well done.” Fjord claps her on the back.

“Yeah, totally meant to do that.”

One by one they head into the tunnel. Fjord goes first, using the Star Razor to light their way and Beau is right behind him. The tunnel winds downwards, heading deep into the heart of the mountain. It's a trek, Beau doesn't have the same sense of time as Caleb, but she's certain that it's hours, and the further down they go, the thicker the air around them becomes.

It reminds Beau of the days they spent walking to Xhorhaus.

Yasha is at the back of the group and Beau can't help but glance over her shoulder, just to check on her. Her pace slows, she doesn't mean for it to happen but after a few minutes the rest of the Mighty Nein have passed her and she finds herself falling into step with Yasha.

“Hey, are you doing okay?” Beau asks.

“I think so.”

“Well, if you're not, you can just let us know and we'll leave.”

“Thank you, Beau.”

The two of them walk side by side as the tunnel continues to wind downwards and they stay close even when the tunnel opens out into a small room.

The ceiling is low, so low that Caduceus has to dip his head to get inside. The walls are made of stone, smooth and polished, this room hasn't been carved out by nature, this is man made, maybe even magically enforced. There's a small wooden door in the corner.

In the centre of the room is a skeleton, it's flopped on it's side, it's arm outstretched like it's trying to grasp at something. It looks like a Drow, but it's been here a while so it's hard to tell, the skin has become thick and leathery, stretched tight across the bones. There's no obvious sign of death, no wounds or marks.

Veth tries to search the pockets, for gold or something valuable, but the dark black robes fall apart immediately, almost disintegrating in her hands.

The rest of the Mighty Nein investigate the room, Caleb casts detect magic, Caduceus Eyes of Grave, Fjord even tries Detect Invisibility, all of them trying to find something about this room. They search for traps or secrets panels, but there's nothing. It's just a room.

The only thing Beau does find is a crack on one of the stones, it's small, so small she almost doesn't notice it. It might be natural, the type of wear and tear that comes over time but the rest of the walls are so pristine that it stands out. Beau studies it, runs her fingers over it.

“Beau, are you coming?” Jester asks.

“Oh yeah, sure.”

Veth checks the door for traps and when it comes back clean they step through one by one.

The next room is just as plain and empty as the last. There's only one difference, instead of a skeleton in the middle of the floor, there are tiles with symbols carved into the stone. They're in grid formation; nine across and five down. They seem familiar not quite runes but close.

“What are they?” Jester asks.

“I don't know. But I don't think we should touch them,” Caleb says.

Beau joins him and the two of them study the symbols for a few minutes, some of the images repeat, appearing twice, some even three times. But most only appear once. There's a pattern of some sort, Beau's sure of it, she just can't see it. Neither, apparently can Caleb because after a few minutes he drops to the floor and begins to ritually cast detect magic.

Beau steps back, she takes out her staff and grips it tight, and then, after a few minutes leans against it. She can feel Yasha's eyes on her, burning into her, and she tries not to look, but it's difficult because she wants to look. Needs to look. She lifts up her staff and begins to twirl it, tossing it from hand to hand just to have something to do.

In the end she steps away, just to get herself a little distance, a little breathing space. The door to the previous room is still open and she steps back through, going back to the small crack on the wall. She leans in close, pressing her face against the stone and peering through the crack. There's something there, something underneath the stone.

“Beau.”

The sound of her name causes her to jump just slightly and she spins around. It's Yasha. Of course it's Yasha. “You shouldn't go off on your own.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know, but you should stay with the rest of us. Please.” Yasha is so open, her fear and pain written all over her face and it's just too much for Beau.

She turns away and looks at the crack. “I found something.”

Yasha walks over and gets close enough to see what Beau is pointing at, but not too close. “It's a crack.”

“Yeah. There's something behind it.” Beau throws a punch and the stone crumbles to dust.

She's right, there is something behind it. It's another rune, but this one is split into four, just like on the door, and there's a symbol in each one, some of which Beau saw in the other room.

“What is it?” Yasha asks.

“I think...”

Suddenly the floor beneath their feet begins to shake and there's a loud click. Something shoots out of the wall, thick stone, just behind Yasha.

The skeleton is crushed, it's bones exploding into dust.

Yasha starts to move, she has time, she can easily dive through, but Beau sees her look back and she stops, allowing the stone wall to slam shut on her.

They're trapped.

Beau quickly grabs her staff and holds steady waiting for whatever comes next, and Yasha does the same, pulling out the Skingorger. They wait, and wait, and wait, but nothing comes. No big scary beast with poison tipped fangs, no secondary traps. Nothing.

“I don't think anything's coming,” Yasha finally says, slowly lowering her sword.

“Why does that not feel like a good thing?” Beau walks over to the wall that's trapped them in and pushes against it. It doesn't budge. She taps it with her fist, then kicks at it with her foot and finally a whack – not at full force – with her staff. It's solid. “Fuck! That's... Fuck!” She checks the edges for any gaps, somewhere that she can stick her staff, or one of Yasha's swords in to try and force the wall back open but it's shut tight.

“We're trapped,” Yasha says.

“We're trapped.” Beau sighs. She falls back against the wall and flops to the floor. “I got us trapped. Fucking...” She groans and clenches her fist.

'How to make yourself feel like shit with one stupid decision by Beauregard Lionett' she thinks. It's a feeling that she's more than a little familiar with so she should be use to it, able to cope with it, but the hot, angry tears fill her eyes anyway. She can feels Yasha staring and quickly covers her face with her hands. It takes a deep breath, then another, and another, just to get herself under control. “I wish Jester was here.” She sees the flash of hurt in Yasha's eyes. “No, I mean... Because Jester could send a message to the others.”

“Right,” Yasha says, but the hurt look hasn't gone.

“The two non-magic users getting trapped together, it's not good. I'm not going to speak for you but without something or someone to hit, I'm not much use.” She drops her staff on the floor.

Now the hurt look falls from Yasha's face, replaced with something akin to sympathy and Beau's not sure which one she hates more.

“That's not true. There are plenty of things you're good at. We'll figure this out.”

“Sure, yeah, of course.”

“Do we -” Yasha turns away from her - “need to talk?”

“About what?”

“Last night.” Yasha's voice is so quiet that Beau almost doesn't hear her.

“I'd really prefer it if we didn't.”

“Okay.”

They go quiet and Yasha paces, as much as she can in the small space. Beau watches her, tapping her staff rhythmically against the ground. A tension has settled between them, it hangs in the air, thick and heavy, and weighing down on them. Beau feels like she's going to choke on it.

“I hurt you,” Yasha finally says.

“What?”

“I hurt you.” Yasha turns to look at her. “I almost killed you.”

“That wasn't you.”

“But it was. Me. I can remember every moment I was under his control. I can remember the faces of every person I killed. I can remember every swing of the Skingorger, I can remember blood and screaming. But most of all I can remember you, on the cathedral floor with my sword in your chest.”

“Yasha.”

“There are moments that I look at you and I...” Yasha sighs. “And then I remember that scar on your chest. I put that there and I can't forgive myself for that. Can you understand?”

“No, I can't.” Again Beau can see the tears in Yasha's eyes. “But then I wasn't mind controlled by some fuck who made me kill a bunch of people, so...”

Yasha smiles, but it's a sad smile.

“I'm sorry,” Beau says. “But you could've talked to me, you know?”

“I tried. On the Balleater, when we were making those statues with Jester. I didn't seem like you really wanted to talk, so I -” Yasha shrugs her shoulders - “stopped.”

“Shit.” Beau remembers that conversation and she also remembers why she deflected the way that she did. “Fuck.”

“I guess you're still angry with me.”

“No. No, Yasha, that's not true.”

“Okay.”

Beau sighs, because she knows if she wants Yasha to talk then she has to be willing to talk as well, and that's something that she's not good at, she's been trying, ever since she met the Mighty Nein she's been trying and she's probably getting better, but her ability to stick her foot firmly in her mouth is still there and she doesn't want to do that, not with Yasha, and not right now.

“Okay, here we go.” Beau stands up. “Seeing my father again, I erm, I didn't handle it very well.”

“I think you handled it fine.”

“Thanks, but I was going to make that deal with the hag because I wasn't okay and then it didn't happen, thank you Jester, and being back on the Balleater, being Fjord's First Mate again, I felt a little more stable, like the ground was once again solid under my feet and I didn't want to talk about anything difficult, in case it got shaky again. Does that make sense?”

“It does.”

“But that was my shit and I shouldn't have put that on you. I'm not angry with you, Yasha, how could I be? I know it wasn't you. I had Obann in my head, it was only for a moment, but if it wasn't for my training I'd have done what he wanted. I know how powerful he was. I can't blame you for anything you did while under that fuck's mind control.”

“I blame me.”

“I know.”

Beau takes a few tentative steps forward, giving Yasha the chance to pull back if she wants, just like last night. But this time Yasha doesn't. Beau takes her hand and places it on her chest, right over her scar. “Made by you, yes, but healed by you, as well. You didn't choose to stab me, you did choose to make amends, so you may not forgive yourself, but I forgive you.”

“Beau.” Yasha's crying. The tears stream down her face.

Beau has said all that she can, there's only one thing left for her to do. She hugs Yasha. She squeezes her tight because she knows that she can and Yasha sobs into her shoulder.

Beau isn't sure how long they stand there, it's a long time, long after Yasha has stopped sobbing and long after what would be the time for them to both step away.

“Thank you, Beau.” Yasha mutters into her shoulder.

“No problem.”

Yasha pulls back, not completely, she keeps her arms wrapped around Beau's waist and now they're staring into each other's eyes. Beau can hear the sound of her own heart or maybe it's Yasha's, or maybe it's both of their's, the two of them beating in sync.

It's Yasha that leans in this time and this is their chance, Beau is almost certain of it.

“Beau! Yasha!” Jester's voice pierces through the room.

The two of them step apart just in time to see Jester's head poke through a newly created hole in the wall. “Hi. Did you guys get stuck in here?”” There's a paint brush in Jester's hand, she waves it as she talks.

“Ask them what happened,” Caleb says, his voice echoing from somewhere behind Jester.

“What happened!? Were you guys making out?”

-----

Caleb discerns that the sigil behind the stone is a cipher, which Beau already knows, but she chooses not to say anything because she's the reason her and Yasha got trapped and why bother drawing everybody's attention to that.

“You need the cipher to solve the puzzle, but if you find the cipher you become trapped,” Caleb says, as they head back towards the puzzle, and with the new information it only takes Caleb about fifteen minutes to solve it. He presses each of the symbols in an order that Beau, having seen the cipher, sort of understands and there's a loud creak.

The wall just behind the symbols shakes. A jagged crack shoots down from the ceiling, chunks of rock tumble to the ground and the wall slowly opens inwards.

A bright light shines out and inside is a Beacon.

They head back to Rosohna using Caleb's teleportation circle. They don't tell the Bright Queen about the Beacon, choosing to hide it in the Bag of Holding as they make their way back to the Xhorhouse. Beau isn't sure she agrees with the decision, but she understands why Caleb wants to talk to Essek about it first, having more information can never hurt so she doesn't really argue. She does however linger at the back, not really participating in the debate the other's are having, and when Yasha joins her, their hands brushing together with every step, Essek and the possibility that he's stolen another Beacon becomes something she just doesn't give a shit about.

Their half way home when Yasha shifts a little closer and very gently takes Beau's hand. Beau doesn't look over, but she does smile as their fingers interlock. If any of the other's notice – and Beau is sure she sees Jester turning back to look at them every few minutes – they don't say anything.

The debate continues back at the Xhorhouse, the group sitting in the kitchen and drinking the tea that Caduceus makes. Beau contributes a little, but she's distracted, Yasha let got of her hand the moment they stepped through the front door and now they're on different sides of the room, but neither of them seem able, or maybe just not willing to stop looking at each other.

When they finally go to bed, Beau catches Yasha's eye and she's sure she sees a little longing there before they both slip into their own rooms.

“Beau and Yasha trapped in a room!” Jester is sitting on the floor, at the edge of her bed, her tail swishing wildly. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” She sings.

“That doesn't rhyme,” Beau says.

“But it's true though, right? You guys were kissing.”

“No.”

“Beau! You have to kiss her.”

“We were interrupted.”

“Oh. I'm sorry.”

“It's fine.”

“You could go and kiss her now.”

“Now. Now, I'm going to sleep.”

Jester huffs and quickly climbs into bed.

Beau climbs into her own and tries to get comfortable, but it's difficult, something rough rubs against her leg. She pulls back the sheet and sees a tarot card resting on the mattress. She recognises it instantly, the image of the couple with the moon behind them, the crease in the corner, the frayed edges, it's the one she smoothed out. The one Molly gave her.

She grips it tight, this was in her robe, Beau remembers putting it in her robe. She climbs out of bed and ignores the questioning look that Jester gives her. Her robe is draped across the back of the chair and she quickly rummages through the pockets, but the tarot card isn't there, instead all there is is a blank piece of parchment.

“What the fuck?”

“Are you okay, Beau?” Jester asks.

Beau stares at the tarot card and the picture slowly changes; the man and woman in long flowing robes fade away, replaced by an image of Yasha, her features soft, her eyes brimming with tears, and of herself, Yasha's hand pressed against her chest. “Okay, I get it, I get it.” She looks over at Jester. “I need to go and talk to Yasha.”

“Yeah you do.”

Beau heads to Yasha's room. She knocks on the door and hopes that Yasha hasn't fallen asleep. A few seconds pass and there's no answer, and Beau accepts that whatever she needs to say is probably going to have to wait until morning. She's already heading back to her room when the door opens and Yasha appears.

“Beau?”

“Er, yeah, hey. Did I wake you up?”

“No, I was out on the balcony. Did you need something?”

“I did actually. Can I come in?” She points to Yasha's room and when Yasha doesn't respond she tries to smooth it over. “Or we can go downstairs? Downstairs is good?”

“No, you can come inside.” Yasha steps aside and Beau, not wanting the opportunity to slip away, quickly heads inside.

Yasha closes the door behind them. “Is something wrong?”

“No. I just... I need to show you something.” Beau hands Yasha the tarot card and then waits, and waits, and waits. “What do you see?”

“Where did you get this?”

“Molly gave it to me, I think.”

“Molly?”

“Yeah. The other day, when I, well, when I died. He was waiting for me, on the other side, at least I think it was him, I might have been hallucinating, it was all a little weird. But it definitely seemed like Molly and he gave me that.”

“Molly,” Yasha whispers and looks back at the card again.

“What do see?”

“I don't see anything.”

Beau slumps. Her arms fold across her chest and she nods her head. “Yep, yeah. That's... That what I thought.”

Yasha continues to stare at the card. “Why, what do you see?”

“Me?” Beau's instinct is to lie, to save herself the embarrassment, and probably Yasha as well, but something stops her, something Molly said. “I see you and me. Honestly, I was kind of hoping you would see the same.”

“I do.”

“What?”

“I lied. I see you and me. The day I flew for the first time.”

“Oh.”

“What does it mean?”

“Well, I think it means that I should kiss you,” Beau says.

“Okay.” But it's Yasha who makes the first move. She gently places her hands on Beau's waist and pulls her closer. Their bodies press together. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Beau smiles.

Yasha leans forward and gently kisses her.

[poesparakeet-fics]

AKA “Yasha The Protector” fic from the prompt poll!

Note: This is basically a SFW fic with a lil NSFW ending. The whole SFW bit is here, so enjoy, and click to AO3 for the sexy bit!

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: The Poly Nein - Relationship, Beauregard Lionette/Caleb Widogast/Yasha, Beauregard Lionett/Yasha, Poly Nein Characters: Beauregard Lionett, Caleb Widogast, Yasha (Critical Role) Additional Tags: Tickling, Bedtime, gang tickle, Sub Caleb Widogast, Stress Relief, dope monk shit, Nipple Play, Cunnilingus, Polyamory, Group Sex, Threesome - F/F/M Series: Part 1 of The Poly Nein Summary:

Trent Ikithon has been brought back into the Mighty Nein’s orbit, and Yasha’s real mad about it. After Jester take Caleb to her bed to take care of his feelings, Yasha does the same to keep him safe. Beau… helps?

FICThe Empire and the Dynasty needed to figure their stuff out. They needed to take all their stuff, and just... lay it out on the table, measure it, and figure it out. That’s what Yasha thought, anyway. She supposed that these talks might be their way of doing it, but it sure was a bad way.  At the very least she wished the Mighty Nein could stop getting mixed up in it.

When Yasha first saw that Trent Ikithon had manipulated his way onto the king’s party, she’d been tempted to bamf out her wings and scream in his face, right then and there. He was old, she suspected she could maybe stop his heart that way. But she’d felt Beau go still next to her, hard and poised like a switch, and paused to match instead.

The last night before their departure they’d set up the mansion in a rented room far from the castle.

Fjord was sure Ikithon had done it to force Caleb to interact with him. Caleb agreed, in that quiet way he did when he was thinking very hard, his eyes cast down.

“We should kill him while we have the chance.” Veth said. She didn’t shriek it like she might have done a year ago, but says it matter-of-factly, in the calm, sweet voice that always meant she was talking to Caleb. They were all talking, but what she said was meant for Caleb.

“No.” He says. “Peace is worth the wait.”

Nobody was willing to argue with him on it, but she could tell Beau and Veth both wanted to. When they all bundled off to bed, Jester intercepted Caleb and pulled him into her and Fjord’s room. Caleb went along numbly, only smiling a little when she insisted that he wouldn’t have nightmares if he slept with them.

Yasha was tense all night, sleeping with Beau weaved around her rigid form like willow reeds.

The talks the next day were very boring. Lots of people she didn’t care about talked. Trent talked occasionally, but only when called upon. Otherwise he would just whisper behind his hand. Fjord talked. Caleb talked. Jester even talked a little, defusing a heated exchange with spun-sugar grace.

Yasha didn’t talk. She stood directly behind Caleb, though, staring down Trent and his molefuckers. Throughout the day she tried to convey three things to them with just her eyes:

She wanted to rip their limbs off.

She was fully capable of ripping their limbs off.

The only reason she was not ripping their limbs off was because Caleb asked her not to.

Beau, on the other hand, roved around the room like a shadow, but her head was always turned in Trent’s direction.

The others seemed happy with how the talks had gone. The fortress they were in had rooms for them, but they all agreed to set up the mansion in one of them as an extra layer of protection. Yasha trotted to catch up with Beau, one hand reaching out to brush her arm.

“Hmm. What? Sorry.”

“That’s OK.” Yasha soothed “It’s been a long day. Um… so... I want Caleb to come sleep with us tonight?”

Beau looked a little surprised. “Uh, sure, but why? I’m not as good at feelings as Jester or Fjord.”

Yasha patted her arm. “You’re getting better. But it’s not about feelings! I want to make sure if some vole-fucker wants to show up next to his bed they get a big raging surprise.” 

Beau snickered and Yasha beamed, pleased with the success of her joke.

“God, you’re so cute. Also, uh... very correct. I was worried about that too,” said Beau with a frown, "If they wanna try and take him out, we'll beat them right out of the pocket dimension."

They were all quiet and tired when they stepped into the mansion, Caleb most of all. Yasha wasn’t as persuasive or cajoling as Jester, so she settled for just grabbing Caleb out of the air as they floated up through the tower’s floors and carrying him to their room over her shoulder.

“Oof! Ah, Yasha…?”

“You’re not sleeping alone with him so near. You’re coming with us.”

“Oooh, good idea Yasha!” Jester’s voice carried down to them as she floated past. “Byyye Caleb!”

“Well, ja, alright then.” Caleb sounded too tired to argue.

“We’ll keep you safe.” Yasha assured him quietly as she gave him a pat on the butt. She didn’t put him down until they were in their room and she could dump him directly on the bed. Then she slipped the Magician's Judge underneath the frame. 

“I need a bath before bed because I smell! Get comfy though, I’ll join you soon.” 

Once she’d stripped down next to the always-steaming copper tub she turned around, surprised to see Caleb sitting on the ground pulling books out of his bag.

“Do you want a bath too Caleb? You can come in with me, you’re just little. Beau fits.”

Caleb gave her a quirk of a smile.

“No, thank-you. I’m just restless. I’ll work for a while before bed, I think.”

“Caleb!” Yasha’s brow furrowed. This was not good. Jester would never allow this, if she was the one taking care of him. 

He shrugged. “I’ll stay here, if they attack I’ll be safe. You'll wake.”

“That’s not what she’s worried about, dumbass.” Beau joined them, a wine bottle under her arm and three glasses in her hand. “It’s late, this thing starts early tomorrow, and you’re the Bright Queen’s favorite human. You need to be sharp. You’re drinking this wine with us and you’re going to bed.”

“Verdammt noch mal , I’m manipulating countries by day and being put to bed like a child every night. Would you all let me be?!” Caleb snapped.

Yasha’s hands moved to her hips. 

“You don't get put to bed like a child, you get taken care of by people who love you because we can't trust you to take care of yourself! And we’re here to protect you, even if it’s from the stupid part of your brain that’s too smart!” Oh, no, that hadn’t come out the way she wanted.

Caleb’s posture turned surly, but Beau stepped between them. 

“Babe, relax, I’ve got this. Take your bath.”

She had him down in a matter of about six seconds. 

First she reached out and seemed to only touch him in the centre of his chest. Yasha barely had time to notice that she’d undone the buckle of his holsters before he was being spun around by a steely hand on the back of his coat-collar.

Beau yanked his coat off in on swift movement, her other hand immediately grabbing the back of Caleb’s holsters and yanking them down to his elbows. She tugged the books out and set them aside while twisting the leather straps into a makeshift binding for his arms. She shoved him face-first onto the bed, straddling his thighs.

Yasha clapped when it was finished, having crawled into the hot bath to enjoy the show.

“Beauregard! Let me go. Now.” Caleb snapped

“Nope.” Beau tugged at his holsters until she could roll him onto his side, one clawed hand starting to scrub at his belly without so much as a glance. Caleb’s body spasmed, his breath pitching as he tried to resist laughing and keep a glare on his face. “There’s only three ways this ends for you. One, you give up, have a nice glass of wine and go to bed in the strong goth’s arms with me. Two, you use your safeword so I have to let you go and you can run off into a corner with your books like a pissy little bitch. Three, I personally tickle you until you pass out, which solves my problem anyway. So what’s it gonna be?”

Her hand squeezed his side and started to climb his ribcage, finally breaking the dams of his resistance. His torso was stretched, his ribcage extended by the angle at which the holsters were pinning his arms behind his back, and with Beau’s strong thighs around his center of gravity he couldn’t do much more than squirm. First a smile broke out, then helpless, rumbling laughter.

“FUHUHUCK YOU LIONEHETTE!” He ground out, earning an audience gasp from Yasha. 

There was a stubborn, defiant and mouthy side of Caleb that only Beau seemed to be able to bring out. Often shocking, when Caleb was always so deferent to his lovers. But then, Beau’s relationship with the men in their group tended to be more ‘beloved best friends I share lovers with and also occasionally make out with’ than 'lover.'

“Ooh, mouthy! So, that’s how you wanna do it, huh? Huh?” 

Beau’s hands started to fly, lightning-fast pinches tweaked Caleb’s ribs, sides, hips, armpits and neck faster than he could react.

“Ah- haha, nein! ” for the first time a little desperation entered Caleb’s voice, his defiance wavering just a little under Beau’s onslaught.

“No? Why? Is the little wizard ready for bed yet? Huh?”

Caleb’s face twisted into a furrowed glare over a helpless smile, and he shook his head from where he was currently muffling his laughter against the bedspread. Beau’s hands jumped to his uppermost ribs on each side, a precision attack that made him start thrashing and shouting in Zemnian. Yasha didn’t know what he was saying, but it didn’t sound complementary.

“How bout now, huh? What if I just do this forever? All ribs, all time! You like that, you smart-ass little shit?”

“No! Nohoho! I will gehehehet you!”

“Pfft. How you gonna do that, huh? You can’t cast your little spells while you’re squealing like a lil bitch…”

Yasha finished towelling herself off and flopped onto the bed next to them, putting her face near where Caleb’s was turned and pressed against the sheets before starting to dance her fingers around his neck and ears.

“Y-Yasha! I- Ah! Hahaha- I don’t- don’t feheeheeheel safe!”

“Oh so now Yasha’s here and you think she’s gonna save you? Nuh-uh. Hey babe, wanna see something cool that Dairon taught me?”

“No!” Caleb yelped, but it was muffled because Beau was already turning him onto his stomach. 

“Ooh yes!” Yasha answered, leaning in with her chin on her other hand and continuing to tease the back of Caleb’s neck. Beau’s fingers started to follow the ley-lines of Caleb’s body, applying a poke, a twist or a ground knuckle at the intersections. 

Caleb’s laughter petered into giddy giggles as his body trembled under the ministrations. He could clearly feel the effects of Beau’s work, because the steady whine of “nononononononono” became just a little more frantic with each applied touch, his neck and shoulders squirming and scrunching further to avoid Yasha’s teasing.

“We usually use this to make people’s nervous system more sensitive for interrogation,” Beau explained, “so… well, I guess it might work pretty well, huh? Let’s see!”

She didn’t bother to roll Caleb over this time, instead jamming her hands under his arms from behind to get his armpits and ribs. Every part of Caleb’s body started to shake, and his laughter turned into muffled shrieks.

“Nahahahat there!”

“Um, we already talked about this. It’s ALL ribs, ALL the time.” Beau teased, stepping up the rhythm of her fingers and making Caleb’s hysteria kick up with each word . “Yup, that works. How’s that, tough guy? Still wanna fight?”

She turned him on his side so he could talk, one hand still jammed under his arm. Caleb was red in the face, but he still spit out “Fuck you fuHAHAHAck you fuHAHAck youhooHAHAHA!”

“Caleb! That’s so rude!” Yasha admonished. “And you know what? I’m getting a little hungry.”

Caleb’s eyes widened and his thrashing sped up. Beau looked a little confused, but watched the one-sided exchange with an amused smile on her face.

“Remember in Aeor when you were a big spider? Do you think you’re as tasty now?” She pounced face-down on one of his thighs. “Omnomnomnom!”

Caleb’s squeal started before Yasha’s face got anywhere near him. She placed one hand on his knee and the other on his stomach to keep his body from folding up to block her, worrying both places with gently wiggling fingers. Then she nipped up and down the thigh muscle from hip to knee like it was corn on the cob, and Caleb nearly levitated off the bed. 

“AAaaiiiiii! YAHAHASHA! AAAH! YAHAHASHAHA PLEAAHEEHEEHESE AAAH! UNCLE! UHAHAHANCLE!"

Yasha paused, peering up at him along the length of his body. Beau's fingers stilled too. 

"Are you gonna come to bed?"

"Yehehes,” he wheezed, “yes!"

Yasha backed off. Beau started to, before mischief overcame her and she tweaked Caleb's ribs, making him convulse and scream. 

"Hey!" Yasha warned, pointing at Beau. "He gave. My meal of wizard legs was interrupted, but I'll fill up on monk ribs if I have to."

Caleb made a raspberry sound at Beau from his position in a heap on the mattress. Beau held her hands up in surrender. "Alright! I was just teasing him, no need to get aggressive... Hey, you! You still want some wine?"

She untwisted Caleb’s holsters, setting him free. 

“Yes pl- *hic* please.” Caleb croaked, still catching his breath.

Beau moved to pour the wine-- white, Caleb didn’t like red-- and they all sipped it as they got ready for bed. Once Caleb had stripped and tucked himself under Yasha’s arm with his head on her shoulder, Beau sat behind him. His spine went rigid.

“Relax.” The monk soothed. “I’m done. It only lasts an hour, but we can get rid of it faster.” 

She started to rub Caleb’s back his firm, flat palms, working out muscles, nerves and energy where she had disrupted it to make him more ticklish. Caleb did relax, eyes rolling as his eyes started to flutter closed.

Beau moved to her other side, settling into a position that mirrored Caleb’s. Yasha fell asleep to the sound of their quiet breathing.

[grayintogreen]

WIP WEDNESDAY

I’m gearing up for Critmas (got my assignment and got lots of treats in planning stages), but the multichapters march on. I have been neglecting shoot at fate, but here’s more once upon a damn-you-all.

Rain had blown back in overnight sometime after Molly, Jester, Nott, and Cree returned to the Leaky Tap, still wearing the high from their successful prank. Even Cree had been unable to hide a sense of mirth underneath her clear disapproval of the shenanigans, as if everyone else’s joy was infectious. Molly called it a win and, for the first time, slept truly soundly listening to the rain hit the roof and gingerly spooning Caduceus, who didn’t question where he had been, but seemed to be keenly aware that whatever it was, he didn’t want to know about it.

Despite being the last to bed, he was the first to wake. The Leaky Tap was still quiet in the early morning hours, boasting only a handful of early risers who nursed breakfast ale and coffees while breakfast was prepared in the kitchen, the smell intoxicating enough to make his stomach rumble already.

He had other priorities at the moment. He yanked his hood over his horns in the hopes of deterring any Crownsguard from investigating the second account of a purple tiefling causing problems on purpose, and stepped out into the liminal space that was Zadash at pre-dawn, before it could truly wake up and become a thriving, living thing again. The air smelled and tasted heavily of petrichor and Molly breathed it in.

For two years, he had learned to love the in-between spaces. The place where night and dawn were almost a heartbeat apart, where dusk turned into night in an eyeblink and yet hung suspended for enough of a moment to appreciate. It took until now to really understand why- he, himself, had been a liminal space once. A bridge between an old life and a new. He could have fallen back and been Lucien if the world had aligned in a certain way, but he plunged forwards. 

Dusk became night. Dawn became day. It didn’t go in reverse. 

A flash of stormcloud-gray caught his eye and he turned to see Yasha leaning against the wall of the pub with her arms crossed over her chest. Her matted, messy hair was damp with rain water and she dripped like a victim of a near-drowning. Her warpaint had nearly washed itself off completely, leaving smudges of black and blue on her face like bruises by the way of clown greasepaint. 

“Did you find what you were looking for?” He asked.

She startled, hand reaching for the Magician’s Judge on her back, and when she realized it was only him, she relaxed, a flash of guilt on her face. “Sorry, Molly… You surprised me.”

“Guess that’s a ‘no,’ then.” He stepped into her space and pressed against her side, not caring that her damp leathers were soaking through his coat. For a moment, they stared up at the sky, the last of the clouds having cleared away in the night, leaving the morning to promise favorable travel.  “I thought you would be gone by now.”

[unicyclehippo]

jester giving yasha a special pastry/a pretty flower post-obann

there’s a quiet knock at the door of the room she is sharing with jester and beau, though beau of course is not there. she has been...avoiding yasha is not correct, because she is not, but the way beau slips like a falling star into the room, into her bed—blink and you miss her, and the same accompanying disappointment drops into her gut when yasha hears jester cheerfully announce that she had seen the other woman—is part avoidance, maybe.

that is how yasha knows that the knock is not beau. and the cheerful pattern to it leaves only one other.

‘jester?’

‘it’s me!’

‘you—you can come in, it is your room,’ yasha calls, though she crosses the room anyway to open the door. a hand on magician’s judge. just...just in case. in case it is a trick. but she pulls the door open and sees, yes, it is jester standing there at the door, beaming, with something hidden behind her back.

another drop of pain. disappointment. she is a reservoir of it, she is full of pain, and wishes the drops would go unnoticed. but it seems she is cursed to notice each and every one. sometimes, she doesn’t know why. this one is molly. seeing jester’s tail wandering in excitable trails behind her, the jewellery dripping from her horns, the fearless and bright smile...she is a reminder in all the best ways of molly.

‘hallo, jester.’

‘hallo!’ jester’s smile grows. ‘can i come in?’

‘it’s your room, jester,’

‘i’m taking that as a yes!’ she announces and laughs, skipping inside and ducking around her in such a way that yasha doesn’t get to see what she is holding.

glancing out into the hall, left then right, eyes skimming carefully over the ceiling, yasha pulls back into the room.

the check didn’t go unnoticed by jester but she doesn’t seem to mind. maybe she does. yasha is historically...not the best at seeing intent. or upset. when it is not clear. people in the empire—people not of her own kind—they are confusing and speak around everything, and expect her to understand. the marshes were simpler. if someone had been upset with her, they would have tried to kill her.

for the first time in a long time, yasha is really and truly glad that she is not there. she does not want to kill anyone. for a little while, at least.

‘okay so before i give you this,’

‘a gift?’

‘yeah!’

‘oh, jester, no, you do not have to do this,’

‘but i already have so you have to accept it, otherwise—well,’ jester blinks. her smile falls a little before returning twice as bright. ‘well, no one else is going to eat it!’

‘eat it?’

‘ah shit!’ jester shakes her head, jewellery jangling. ‘okay, yes, it’s a cupcake,’ she admits, begrudgingly. like she was looking forward to drawing it out a little.

‘i can pretend i don’t know,’ yasha offers. ‘it is easy. i can just,’ she opens her mouth into an o of surprise, arches her brows. takes a half step back like someone is trying to ambush her, catch her off guard.

the combined effect has jester laughing. she tilts her head to the side when she’s done, looks up at yasha from beneath dark lashes. a fond little smile sits in the corner of her lips, dimpling her cheeks. ‘okay,’ she agrees. ‘but first, i think they got the wrong idea for who these were for because i asked for, like, some specific decoration so...’ she steps away from the table and waves yasha forward.

approaching the little box, yasha lifts the lid. stares down at the small cakes. probably for quite some time before jester has slid up beside her and asks,

‘do you like them? they definitely thought it was for a dog, i think, so i am sorry about that,’ she says, nose crinkling, looking down at the white icing shaped into a generic bone. ‘but the flowers turned out pretty!’

yasha stands there and stares—six little cakes, bought for her, even after everything. sweet little cakes of absolute nonsense, two with bones and she thinks she sees flecks of blood painted on which, okay, is a little disturbing but very on brand. the other four are rather lovely different flower shapes.

‘oh, look at this,’ yasha breathes, reaches a finger down toward one cake that has small paper flowers artfully arranged around it. ‘jester,’

‘do you like them? do you?’

‘i- i do. thank you, jester, you didn’t have to do this.’

‘it’s like a welcome home,’ the girl says with a smile, a delicate shrug.

‘well, thank you. do you—want to share one?’

yasha reaches down for one of the floral cakes. tears it indelicately in two. she hands one half to jester and examines the other one. tasting it, she finds it is very sweet—like the sweet apple she had had that time in zadash, but also nothing alike because she tastes neither caramel nor apple.

‘so, how are you liking being back?’ jester asks, sitting herself on the table, feet kicking as she picks at the cake and licks the icing off her thumb.

‘it’s very nice. it is—strange.’

‘how come?’

yasha shrugs. pretends to examine the cakes some more. ‘i am...sometimes afraid that i am still asleep. that i will wake up and still be with him.’

‘oh.’

hearing the note in jester’s voice, she shakes her head, offers up a smile. ‘not all the time. just...when it is too quiet. or when i am alone. i was always...by myself. in the dreams.’

‘well, i’ll just have to be with you all the time then!’ jester offers.

yasha doesn’t mean to be hurtful when she says it, but she is good at hurting people. accidentally seems to be her forte. ‘it will have to be you. no one else wants to.’ she squeezes her eyes shut, waves her hand in a, no, ignore that, kind of way. ‘that is not—i would be happy to have you keep me company,’

‘yasha,’

‘that is very kind of you to offer.’

‘i’m sorry the others are being assholes,’ jester says, and doesn’t soften the word with a laugh or a smile or anything. she’s finished her half of the cake and wipes her hands on her skirts, stares down at her lap and the symbol of the traveller on her belt that she fiddles with. ‘they just need some time.’

‘i know.’

‘it was hard,’ jester tells her. ‘fjord—‘

‘i hurt him. i remember. i remember all of it.’

jester nods. ‘nott is okay with you, i think. she was there that night, when you had that dream? after we cleared up the giants house.’

‘yah.’

‘she’s just worried about caleb. and caleb is totally out of it, so you have to excuse him for not checking in on you, and caduceus would totally be here but he knows that i’m here and super trusts me with like, healing and stuff. and also he’s working with fjord on being a wild man,’

‘a what?’

‘like, a priest or whatever for melora.’

‘oh.’

‘yeah, fjord also broke away from his super powerful scary thing too, so, you have that in common.’

‘i will be sure to bring it up,’ yasha says dryly. ‘when we are trying to bond.’

jester pulls a face. ‘oh i don’t know about that,’

‘that was a joke.’

‘oh.’

yasha drums her fingers on her belt. jester doesn’t make eye contact, peering over at the cupcakes like she hasn’t a care in the world. the tail is a giveaway—coiled tight around her own ankle, the very tip of it swishing anxiously through the air.

‘and beau?’ she asks.

jester drags in a breath. lifts her eyes from the box to meet yasha’s, but can’t hold it for long. it was long enough that yasha saw enough in them. nothing good.

‘she...might take a little while,’ jester admits. ‘beau is—i mean, she’s beau, so who knows what she’s doing or who she’s talking to. right? she’s probably super busy being cool and smart,’

‘i do not blame her. i—‘ yasha glances over to the empty bedroll. the raiments are tucked away but yasha sees them in those arrays of blue. ‘i have done some very bad things,’

‘obann made you do it!’

‘i am never sure of that.’

there is a long moment of silence. ‘beau said that was when she knew, you know. that you were either...or under his control. that’s when i knew for sure for sure that you were under control. no doubt about it. you were crying,’ she tells yasha, as though the woman hadn’t known. ‘you didn’t want to do it, i know it. and eventually you will too. i promise.’

ice drops into the lake of hurt and pain yasha has been gathering in her belly. spreads to her edges, threatens to freeze her.

‘jester... did you see it?’

she can’t look away fast enough. there’s a flicker of something in dark eyes and then jester is smiling, a thin, tremulous smile. ‘someone had to watch out for you,’ she says, which is a yes. ‘i know the stormlord was but...everyone can use a friend. right?’

‘oh, jester,’

yasha’s voice cracks and she closes her eyes against the hot press of tears. she doesn’t know what jester might have seen but any of it, any of it would be bad. and for her to have seen her in zadash, in the cobalt soul... yasha doesn’t remember all of what she did in those fifty nine days, but that—that she will never forget.

‘i couldn’t leave you alone. beau told me what it felt like. like—‘ she hesitates. presses on. ‘like being crammed into an itty bitty box.’ yasha flinches. nods. ‘i couldn’t leave you alone.’

[conceptstage]

Dead Easy

I was asked by @rohanrider3 to make a ‘Speak Easy’ style Caleb-centric story. I made it a sequel, I hope you don’t mind.

Caleb dies surrounded by people who love him.

It’s not how he imagined finally going out. He imagined disappearing into the ether with no one to miss him. He imagined his body being found by city guards several days after the fact and burial in an unmarked grave or maybe he would die in the forest and just waste away into nothing. He thinks he would have liked that.

The first explosion knocked him out. Beau cried out pain but didn’t go down, Nott dodged it easily, and Jester screamed, holding onto his arm, but she stayed on her feet even with his weight falling against her. The second explosion knocked Jester and Nott out and pushed him closer to the cliff of death. Beau grit her teeth but stayed up. The third explosion killed him. Jester and Nott started to burn but Beau dodged it entirely.

She gasped for breath as her lungs filled with smoke and she began to feel light headed. She fell to one knee on weak legs but looked up as three shadows exited from the smoke. The first figure that she saw as the smoke cleared was one she recognized. Trent Ikithon. He was smiling victoriously and she wanted nothing more than to knock it off his face. The second figure was a tall, well muscled man with short, dark hair and a red, relatively fresh scar across his cheeks and nose. The third was a demure, short haired woman with cold eyes that sent a chill down Beau’s spine.

She took the time it took them to walk closer to look at her friends. Jester was still breathing, though it was shallow and weak. Nott was facing away from her but her hand was twitching. Caleb’s dead blue eyes stared over at her, blank. She felt dizzy at it wasn’t just from blood loss or smoke inhalation.

The large man came closer first, heading straight towards Caleb. He lifted her friend up and walked passed her back towards Trent.

“No,” she groaned with all the strength that she could. She tried to reach for Caleb’s hand that was hanging down but the other man pulled him out of her reach. Each movement of her screaming muscles, each stretch of her burnt skin sent shots of debilitating pain through her body. “Stop, you can’t- You can’t…”

A hand grabbed her jaw and she was forced to look into the eyes of the cold hearted woman. She clicked her tongue in faux sympathy and then grinned. “Poor dear. I think you need to lay down.” She threw Beau to the ground and pressed her foot against the side of Beau’s face to push her farther into the dust. Beau wrapped her hands around the woman's ankle but couldn’t find the strength to pull it off. She hadn’t felt this weak and useless since she was a child. “Maybe you should focus on saving yourself. Let us worry about Herr Ermendrud, ja?”

“Astrid,” Trent called. “Leave your new toy alone for now. We’ll come back for her and the others.”

Astrid pouted and pulled her foot away, though Beau didn’t release her ankle. She laughed. “Oh, I think it likes me. It won’t let me go.”

Beau gave her a weak smirk that pulled at her busted lip and pressed her thumb hard into a pressure point on Astrid’s ankle. Her eyes widened and she cried out in surprise. “You bitch! I can’t feel my leg!” She stumbled back as her right leg flopped uselessly under her and hit the large man’s chest. “What did you do?”

The look on her face was entirely worth it, Beau thought, even as a fire bolt was sent at her face. That was the last thing that she remembered.

-

Jester woke and groaned as a cool cloth was pressed against her forehead. “Momma? What happened?” It took all her will power to force her eyes open and she recognized the pink hair that was falling into her line of vision. “Caducie?” She mumbled. Suddenly, it all came back to her and she gasped. “Whe-Where-?”

“Shh,” Caduceus shushed her gently. “You have to relax. If you try to move to quickly you’ll make yourself sick.”

“Is everyone one alright?” she croaked.

“Don’t worry about that now, you’ll know everything soon enough. Just focus on getting better.”

That answer should have worried her, but she just nodded and drifted back to sleep. The next time she woke, it was to sun in her eyes. She blinked tiredly and paused to yawn and smack her lips. She sat up with a groan and rubbed her eye, looking around the inn room that she was in.

“Take it slow,” Caduceus said as he crossed the room to kneel in front of her. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better. What happened?”

“You, Beau, Nott, and Caleb were out shopping when you were attacked in the street. Do you remember?”

She remembered flashes. She remembered heat and pain and the weight of Caleb’s unconscious body against her side. “A little. Where is everyone else?” She looked around the room and spotted Beau sitting in the other bed. She looked away, ashamed, when Jester caught her eye, and just turned the tea cup around gingerly in her scarred, calloused fingers. “Beau? What happened?”

Beau sniffled and looked back to met her eyes. Her brown eyes were red rimmed and tired. “I’m sorry, Jes. I couldn’t…. I couldn’t- I’m sorry.”

Jester felt tears gather in the corners of her eyes. “Nott?” Beau shook her head. “Caleb.”

“They, uh-” She cut herself off to wipe as her nose with her thumb. “They killed him. And then they took him away. I’m sorry, I couldn’t- Fuck. Fuck!” She jumped to her feet in anger and threw the cup in her hand against the wall. It shattered and left tea dripping down the wallpaper.

Jester flinched at the shatter and the tears started streaming down her cheeks, catching on her trembling lips. Caduceus reached up and wiped a tear away with his large thumb. She sniffled and nodded. “Then we’ll get him back.” She was trying to sound determined was sure that her voice was shaking. “We’ll go and save him.”

Beau nodded. “Yeah. We will.” She dropped back on the bed with her head in her hands. “Sorry about the cup, Cad.”

“No worries. I know better than to give you the expensive ones.”

Beau snorted in laughter despite herself and cleared her throat. “Let’s track down some wizards, shall we?”

-

Nott hadn’t let go of his scarf since she woke up. She had it wrapped around her neck but it was long enough for the ends to be held tightly in each fist as the others loaded up the cart. The sky was dark and full of swirling gray clouds. The rain wouldn’t be long now. Yasha gently picked Nott up and Fjord slid one of the their boxes of rations under her. Yasha sat her back down on top of it as Fjord left, but Yasha stayed and looked her in the eye.

“Are you alright?” she asked, stoically.

Nott shrugged. “Are you?”

Yasha hesitated. “I’ll survive. I lost Zuala, I survived. I lost Molly, I survived. You’ll survive too.”

“Will I?” She thought about never seeing Caleb smile again and her chest felt cold. “I’m not so sure.”

Yasha, however, was sure. “You will. You have your husband and son who still need you. You’ll survive for them until you can survive for yourself again.”

Nott sighed and started rolling up the ends of the scarf idly. “Thanks. It still hurts.”

“Yes, it does. And it always will.”

It wasn’t the most uplifting speech ever but there was something about her frankness that was comforting. Nott couldn’t really put a name to what Yasha’s words made her feel. It was cold but satisfying, like reaching the end of a melancholy story. “Yeah,” she mumbled getting to her feet to start helping everyone pack up the cart and put up the canvas covering.

Caduceus climbed up into the front seat and looked up at the sky just in time for a raindrop to fall down and land square on the tip of his nose. He pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders and adjusted his wide brim hat to cover his face. He backed into the cover to see the others getting comfortable, squeezed together around the supplies. “Ready?”

Beau was leaning her head on Jester’s shoulder and Jester was running her hand kindly through Beau’s loose hair. “Yep.”

“Let’s head out,” Fjord said from the other side of the cart.

Caduceus nodded and turned to look forward, clicking his tongue to get the horses moving forward towards Rexentrum.

-

Fjord gave a rage-filled battle cry and whipped up his sword to protect himself. The Mordenkainens Sword that was floating in the center of the tower foyer clashed against it and he nearly lost his footing. The force pressed against him and he felt a layer of sweat gathering under his armor.

Yasha ran up behind him and brought her Magician's Judge up in a wide arc to shatter the sword in the air. “Go!” she yelled, adjusted her hands on the hilt of her sword. Eodwulf growled at them and summoned ice to his fingers. Yasha paused to look back at the rest of the group over her shoulder. “Go! Find Caleb!”

Beau grit her teeth and looked between her and Fjord, doubt in her eyes. Jester grabbed her elbow and gave her pleading eyes until she licked her lips and nodded. “Don’t die!” she called, then she turned and lead the others up the stone stairs.

Nott ran around Beau’s legs to take the lead, hurrying up the stairs on all fours with leaping strides. “Hurry, there’s only a few hours-!” She was cut off as she breached the top of the stairwell and immediately had to dodge a dark, burning orb of necrotic energy that was hurtled towards her. She slid across the floor and pulled out her crossbow, aiming it where the orb had come from on instinct. Beau came out next, sliding to a stop and holding out her hand to stop Jester and Caduceus before they could leave the safety of the stairway.

“Astrid, right?” she asked, feigning nonchalance. They had come to a large chamber that looked like it was designed for dining but it was void of furniture and filled only with cobwebs. It wasn’t set up for long term living, they’d managed to catch up to the wizards when they stopped to rest in a defunct wizard’s towers.

The woman gave her a teasing smile and wiggled her fingers in greeting. “Ah, mein neues Lieblingsspielzeug. Did you miss me?”

“You know, you’d be really hot if it wasn’t for all the crazy. Where’s Caleb?”

The woman shrugged. “Who?”

“We won’t call him by the name you knew him by, he’s not the same man,” Nott insisted, aiming her crossbow. “His name is Caleb now. Where is he?”

“It won’t matter, you’ll never reach him.” She raised her hand to cast another spell and Nott loosed a bolt which hit her in the shoulder and interrupted her words. “Agh!”

“Keep going,” Nott said, quickly moving towards cover across the room. “Keep going!”

“Nott?!” Beau exclaimed, waving the clerics forwards to started moving to the next stairwell around the curve of the outer wall.

Nott looked over the box she’d ducked behind to shoot at Astrid again. “Keep going!” she called again. “Save my boy!”

Beau looked up the stairs just in time to see Jester’s dress disappear around the curved stairs and moved to follow. When she reached the top of the second set of stairs, she had to stumble to a stop to keep from crashing into Jester. Beau followed her eyes and they landed on a man standing in the center of what appeared to be an old library.

“I knew you would come,” Trent said, folding his hands over the expensive red jewel that sat on top of his cane. “Though, I must admit, I’m impressed you managed to find us. I thought we covered our tracks better than that. Tell me, what gave us away?”

Beau pointed to the cane. “Locate Object.”

The got a chuckle from him. “Ah, so it was my Eitelkeit, my vanity, that will lead to my downfall. Fitting. I will not go down without a fight.”

“Course not,” said Beau, nodding to Caduceus. “That would be boring.” Caduceus nodded back and started moving up the wood ladder to the second floor of the library and the single door on the far wall.

Trent clicked his tongue. “Ah, ah, not so fast, my large friend.” He pointed at Caduceus and a single trail of lightning fizzled at his fingertips until it flew through the air at Caduceus' back.

Jester surged forward and whipped of her shield, deflecting the lightning into the wood ceiling which splinted and scorched. With a wave of her hands, she summoned her serrated lollipop and grasped the stick with both fingers. “I don’t think so, you cryptkeeper!”

Beau started to run forward, pulling her staff off her back and crying out in rage as she swung it forward. “Hey, motherfucker! Over here!”

The staff hit a magic shield that rippled in the air and then disappeared once more. Trent smirked. “You didn’t think it’d be that easy, did you? This old man still has some tricks.”

A wave of force hit them both in the chest and threw them backwards, Beau head first into the stone wall and Jester back against the bookshelf. The dusty, distressed books tumbled off the shelf in an avalanche over her head. She took a deep breath and wipe the dust from her eyes, then cried out and sent her lollipop forward. “Eat this!” the blades started turning around the sucker and it sent up sparks when it hit his shield. Trent frowned and Jester saw the shield getting weaker around him.

Beau sat up, her vision spinning but she picked one of the three Trents that she could see at the moment and activated her gloves, sending an arc of lightning through the air towards his face. It hit his shield and hesitated for a moment but then pushed through it to sting him directly in the center of the chest.

The shield faded away and it threw him across the room to crash into the plush chair and send up a cloud of dust. He growled and waved his cane towards Beau. Her vision began to clear just in time for her to dodge a giant blue hand that flew passed her and tried to grab at her arm but couldn’t doge to orb of fire that barreled towards her, scorching the stones and filling the room with dense heat. She gasped for breath against the wall and reached up to touch the wet spot on the back of her head, but put that concern to the side for now. She looked up at Trent and he pointed his cane at her once more.

“Do me a favor, Beauregard dear. Die.”

Beau’s eyes widened. She recognized that spell. She’d seen the wizards in the Dynasty use it on convicted criminals. The instant death spell, Power Word Kill. She knew that she was injured enough for it to affect her but she never felt the cold grip of death.

“Counterspell!” Fjord exclaimed, bursting from the stairwell and holding up his hand. Yasha pushed passed him and growled as she stormed towards him, Nott perched on her shoulders with her crossbow loaded and aimed.

“Eat shit, motherfucker!” Nott exclaimed, shooting him and then jumping onto the floor, landing in a roll.

He knocked the bolt out of the air with his cane. Yasha surged forward, screaming at the top of her lungs, and ran him through with her sword. He gasped and twitched on the end until the light left this eyes.

Jester rushed over to help keep her steady and Cured her wounds by running her fingers over the line of Beau’s hair. Beau gave her a small smile and leaned back against the wall, gasping for breath and holding the burn on her side as it healed up under her fingers. Jester moved on to Heal the frostbite on the tip of Fjord’s nose and along his cheeks.

Someone cleared their throat and everyone one turned to look up at Caduceus, standing resolute at the railing of the second floor balcony. “It’s ready.”

Jester and Beau exchanged a glance and Beau pushed off the wall to lead everyone up the single wooden ladder. They stepped into the far room, empty except for the old, mussed bed in the corner where their missing, deceased friend lay dead. There were faded green, moth eaten curtains that fluttered silently in the wind. Caduceus had incense burning on the floor in an arc around the bed and there were glittering shards of diamond floating in the air around Caleb’s chest.

This was the first full ritual that Beau had seen. The last thing the team had done had been for her, she wasn’t sure what was expected of her so she stayed in the back and let the others filter in and gather around the bed.

Nott rushed forward first, climbing up into the bed to kneel on his other side and take his cold, clammy hand. He was bloated and kind of gross actually and barely even looked like the man they all loved.

“How close did we cut it?” she asked, pushing his long hair out of his face.

“Seven hours,” Caduceus said quietly. “Seven hours and it would have been too late.”

Nott let out a shaky breath. “I’ll do it first,” she said. “I know…” she paused and tried to plan her words. “... I know that you might not want to come back. Life hasn’t been good to you. It’s understandable. And if you don’t come back I won’t be mad, I promise. We’ll bury you in a pretty garden and visit you all the time to talk. But I’ll be sad for the rest of my life and I’ll miss you everyday. So please come back and give life a chance.”

Everyone glanced around to see who would go next and were honestly surprised when Yasha stepped up. She pulled something out of her pocket, a small paper bag that had been folded and folded until it was pocket sized. Jester recognized it from the town they’d stopped in for supplies a few days ago, Yasha had left the store with it and had refused to answer her curious questions about what it was. She unfolded it slowly, taking her sweet time without saying a word, and then pulled out a folding straight razor. The handle was beautiful, obviously some kind of antique, with delicate carvings in ivory. She sat it on his chest and picked up his hand to cover it and keep it from falling.

She stepped away then, nonchalantly folding the paper bag back up and shoving it back in her pocket.

No one moved to be next. Everyone had an idea of something that they could contribute. Jester wanted to tearfully tell him the story of the day they met from her point of view. Tell him how smart and suave she’d thought he was. She thought that he would get a kick out of that. Fjord wanted to apologize. For pointing his sword at him, for doubting him, for never fully trusting that he had the group’s best interests at heart. Caduceus had the Parapet of Wound Closure in his hands and was turning it over in his fingers but he didn’t move to hand it over. He turned to Beau instead.

She was practically vibrating beside him, bouncing on the balls of her feet and breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth like she was trying to psych herself up. She shook out her hands nervously but didn’t move right away. Caduceus cleared his throat and gently pushed her forward with a kind hand on her back.

“Go on,” he whispered. “I think he’d want to hear from you.”

Beau blinked at him in surprise. “I thought… I thought you’d try to stop me. What if I mess it up? What if he won’t come back and it’s all my fault?”

“You won’t mess it up. You couldn’t. You’re a sister to him. Anything that you have to say to him, he’ll understand.”

Beau frowned and looked at Jester, who grinned at her with tears in her eyes and stepped to the side. Beau took another deep breath and moved forward to stand beside the bed. She cleared her throat and glanced once more over her shoulder before finally turning to look at his face.

“Hey,” she said, then she winced because it was lame. “I don’t… know if you can hear me. I don’t know if you care. Maybe you’ve already moved on and I’m just wasting my breath. But I don’t think I’d ever forgive myself if I didn’t at least try.” She sighed and shoved her hands in her pockets. “I won’t lie, you’ve got more reasons than most to just say ‘fuck it’. If you decided that this wasn’t worth it, that we weren’t worth it, I would understand. I want you to know that I… I love you. And I hope you realize how hard that is for me to say. Usually, it’s not worth it, to love things or people. Because they leave or they get taken away and there’s nothing you can do about it, so what’s the point. But you, uh…” she sniffled and wiped at her nose, pointedly avoiding Nott’s eyes from across Caleb’s body. “You made it worth it. No matter what happens next, you were worth it. Even when we fought… maybe especially when we fought, I was grateful to have you around.” She let out the breath she’d been holding and turned stare at Caduceus' chest plate, not feeling brave enough to meet his eyes and possibly see disappointment in them. “H-How was that?”

Before anyone could answer, there was a sharp, unsteady breath from behind her. She gasped and spun around to see Caleb’s chest start to rise and fall. Nott burst out into tears and pressed her face against Caleb's neck as the normal color and shape began to return to his skin. A cheer went up in the room and everyone moved to crowd around his still unconscious body.

-

Beau was on watch when he woke up. She was staring into the flames as they licked at the stick that she was idly waving through it and nearly jumped out of her skin when he groaned from the other side of the camp. She didn’t move right away, thinking that it might have just been a false alarm. He groaned in his sleep sometimes. Nightmares, she assumed.

But when she leaned around the fire to find his face in the flickering orange light she saw his blue eyes staring tiredly back at her.

“Beau?”

She threw the half chared stick into the fire and crawled on her hands and knees to kneel beside him. “The fuck are you doing up? Cad said it would be a few days still.” She pushed him down when he tried to sit up. “Didn’t you give me this exact lecture when it was my turn to go through this?”

Caleb groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. “And if I remember correctly, you woke me up in the middle of the night to make me teach you a spell anyway and we stayed up for hours.”

“Yeah well, you were dead twice as long as I was.”

He blinked at her, his eyes still unfocused. “Was I?”

She sighed, her posture softening. “Yeah. We were almost too late. Seven hours.” She handed him her waterskin and helped him take several large gulps. “But I don’t have any spells to teach you, I only know the one. So go the fuck to sleep.” When he was finished drinking she pushed him back into his bedroll and crawled back to her spot across the fire.

He was quiet for a few minutes but she knew that he wasn’t asleep. “You know… when I was dying… I was certain that it was the end. That I wasn’t going to come back. That, even if you were able to do the ritual, that it wouldn’t work because my soul wouldn’t want to come back.”

“Then why did you?” She asked, trying to keep the curious tone out of her voice and appear stoic instead.

He fingered the folded, ivory straight razor that had been sitting in his breast pocket since they’d left the tower but didn’t seem confused or surprised by it, like he didn’t even need to ask where it had come from. “Because I love you too. And The Mighty Nein are worth it.”

[i-roll-to-chill]

The creature from the Abyss bares a mouthful of fangs and lets out a roar that cracks the stone beneath her feet.  Yasha hefts the Magician’s Judge and stands her ground.  

It is certainly a sight to behold: all twisted flesh and cruel angles, sharp horns and wicked talons that spark with the whip crack of electricity and the acrid smell of ozone.  The monster towers over Yasha and her friends, its formidable bulk commanding her attention in such a way that not even the soft, whispered voice that wanders its way into her right ear is enough to make her turn her head.

“These people are not your friends, pretty one.  They seek to harm you.  They wish to kill you.”

Yasha keeps her gaze trained on the fiend, but she feels her head tip almost unconsciously to the side.  The voice is initially somewhat deep, but as it continues speaking it begins to climb up through the registers, making leaps and dips through alto and soprano in a way that is almost hypnotizing.

“If they kill you, then they will take you away from me.  I want to be able to hold you in my arms, my love; no one has held you close in a very long time.  Lay waste to your friends, then come to me so that I may comfort you.”

The voice becomes more and more familiar, in a way that sends a subtle, aching pain crawling through the center of Yasha’s chest.  The monster and its earth-shaking roar gradually fade into the background as her vision slowly begins to unfocus.

Out of the corner of her eye, she can just barely make out the familiar violet glow pulsing from the crystal at the end of Caduceus’s staff.  It shines like a lighthouse on the cliffs of a seashore, reaching out through the fog in her mind to call to her.

You don’t want to hurt them, says a tiny voice in the back of her mind.  They’re your friends.  You don’t want to hurt them.

But the voice whispering in her ear is Zuala’s.

All she can hear is Zuala’s voice.

Yasha Nydoorin.  Yasha the Orphanmaker.  

Celestial rage boils through her veins as she wields her greatsword with a practiced fury.  

She can see the ragged robes and wide eyes of Caleb Widogast standing before her, but the scene is hazy and muddled, as if pulled from the depths of a dream.  Yasha raises the Magician’s Judge and swings it down toward the head of the wizard, but his eyes flash orange and an amber sphere of energy leaps from his desperately outstretched hands, blocking the descent of the weapon.

Yasha hears someone scream her name.  She recognizes Jester’s voice.

She is focused, however, on the frightened face of the man in front of her; the man who, only minutes before, had looked her in the eye and aimed a fireball at the center of her chest.  His fingers are visibly shaking as he reaches toward the pouch on his belt, his mouth opens and closes as if he is trying to speak.  His breath comes in quick, shallow gasps.

Yasha slashes the greatsword in an arc across his chest.  The breath hitches as the body of Caleb Widogast crumples and falls silently backward into the water.

Once more for good measure.  She slams the Magician’s Judge down onto his chest, sending blood mingling with water as it all sprays into the air.

Yasha steps over the fallen man and advances on her next target: the stunned figure of Caduceus Clay.

“Yasha, stop.”  Clay’s usual composure has deteriorated, but his voice retains some of its familiar gravitas as he extends the staff in her direction.  

For a split second, the command forces its way into her brain.  The fog retreats, and she slows and falters.  But then Zuala’s voice flashes in her mind again: “You will obey me,” it tells her sternly, and Yasha complies.

When her advance continues, Clay’s eyes widen as he tries to back away.  The greatsword darts out, slices a heavy red line across the thigh that drops him to one knee and halts his escape.

Clay looks up to meet her gaze as she stands over him with the Magician’s Judge. The fear has shifted into a quiet, terrible acceptance.

Yasha raises the greatsword over her head.  She may have considered Caduceus a friend once, but what has he ever truly done for her?  He just attempted to cast a spell to control her. He claims to be a cleric, yet Mollymauk remains buried by the side of the Glory Run Road.

The blade whistles through the air and buries itself into his side, biting through the armor and deep into the skin.  Caduceus coughs a spatter of red as she pulls the greatsword out of his ribs — he gives her one final, sad smile as his eyes fall shut, and his body collapses limply to the ground.

There is a burning sensation behind her eyes that Yasha blinks away.  She turns wordlessly and charges back across the battlefield, barreling toward the blur of brown and blue that is currently crouching in the shadow of the enormous monster.

Beau spins in place to meet her as Yasha approaches; the monk’s eyes dart back and forth between the advancing barbarian and the prone forms of Caduceus and Caleb as a look of dismay crosses her face.

Yasha closes the distance between them in an instant, channeling all of her momentum into a massive strike with the greatsword.   Beau just barely ducks out of the way, slipping below the arc of the weapon in a dangerous dance.  She darts behind Yasha, leaping gracefully over the blade as the barbarian spins and swings it in the opposite direction, then she dodges back around to the front.

“Come on, Yasha!”  Beau steps into her space and smacks her across the face.

The sound of her own name telegraphs through Yasha as hard as the physical blow.  Yanked to the forefront of her mind is a sudden memory of Fjord, calling her name as she lies on the sandy floor of the Victory Pit, extending a hand to help her back up to her feet.  She hears Nott mutter it ever so hesitantly, only a little while after the day they’d first met, staring up at her with wide, skittish eyes and bravely presenting her with a handful of colorful flowers.  

Beau doesn’t give her a second to recover.  She sees the monk grit her teeth as she throws a solid cross at Yasha’s jaw.  “You. Are in. A toxic. Relationship!  Come on!”

This time it’s Jester, shouting her name with glee as she runs down the road to greet her.  Then she’s murmuring it gently, sitting quietly beneath the night sky in the middle of a silent sea, steadfastly kind even as Yasha unspools the horrors of her past and lays them out before her.  Caleb says it in his soft, unsure voice as he rubs his fingers unconsciously across the stubble on his face.  Later, he hides a smile behind the cover of a book as Frumpkin jumps up onto Yasha’s arm and butts his head against it, settling in to curl around her shoulders.  The sound of their voices together echoes through the knotted depths of her mind.

The desperation on Beau’s face is a naked thing.  She aims another punch at Yasha’s nose.

And of course it’s Beau.

Brash, outspoken Beauregard, who stumbles through every conversation but spends every fight shielding her friends from the front lines.  There are countless memories: her cheeky grin at the circus on the very first night that they’d met, asking slyly if Yasha could carry her to her seat.  The solid, comforting warmth of her body as Yasha lifts her into her arms, holding back a smile at the monk’s antics in the dungeon beneath Hupperdook.  The tiny crease between Beauregard’s eyebrows as she stares at Yasha, with eyes like a clear burst of blue on a summer’s day, and asks her quietly to stay.

Beau, who asks her what her favorite part of Xhorhas was and says that she’d like to see it someday.  Beau, who only ever looks at her with admiration — never fear.

Yasha catches the punch before it reaches her face.  

Her mind is suddenly her own again, but all she is able to think about are the still bodies of Caleb and Caduceus — lying broken, face-up in shallow water,  because of her.  The weight of what she’s done crashes down on her shoulders so violently that she feels her hands begin to tremble.

All she can do now is force herself to lift her gaze to meet Beau’s — expects to see rage, disappointment, utter betrayal swimming in those clear blue eyes — but instead, Beau’s face softens into an expression of such relief that Yasha doesn’t trust her voice not to break.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.  There is nothing else to say.

Beau’s other hand comes up to cover Yasha’s trembling fist. She steadies it with practiced fingers, so gently that the rough callouses and assortment of scars that slide across Yasha’s skin seem momentarily out of place.  Even without words, Beau sends a clear message: This is not your fault.

Then she takes a step back, drops her hands to her sides and curls them both into fists. “Fucking gaslighters,” Beau spits, and Yasha catches the flash of cold steel in her eyes.  “Come on, let’s go.”  She gives Yasha one last half-smile as she turns around, running headlong toward the bellowing fiend.

The edges of Yasha’s vision bleed red as she feels a familiar, feverish numbness begin to spread through her body.  She lifts her greatsword and sets her sights on the monster looming over her friends — before the rage takes her completely, she reminds herself that there will be plenty of time to splatter the incubus across the stonework later.

The creature from the Abyss, menacing the battlefield with its lightning-coated talons, is certainly a sight to behold.  But then again, so is Yasha Nydoorin: the Orphan Maker, favored of the Storm Lord, wielding the Magician’s Judge as foam flies from the corners of her mouth.  Her roar matches that of the monster as she leaps into the fray — this time, in defense of her friends.

[thewriterofmanythings]

Diamonds for a Soul

Day 2 of Widojest Week-Healing

The Mighty Nein have fallen into Astrid's trap, and their foolishness will cost them.

I took the “healing” prompt and ran with it in a different direction. You can also read on AO3. Once again thanks to @3fling for being so amazing!

Time had slowed down for Jester exactly three times since she had met the Mighty Nein.

The first was when they had stolen the Squall Eater and set sail from Nicodranas. Her heart had nearly stopped beating as she realized they might not ever be able to come back, that she might not be able to see her mama again. She managed to shake herself of the feeling quickly and put on the cheery face the rest of the Nein knew her to be, but those few moments felt excruciating.

The second time, Jester had nearly drowned as the temple Fjord and Avantika had sought out flooded. As panic set into her mind and her lungs began to burn, it felt like she was moving through gelatin instead of water. So this is what dying feels like, she remembered thinking. Time suddenly snapped into fast motion when Fjord had rescued her by… well, technically kissing her. But she had been saved nonetheless.

Which led her to now.

Part of her was glad Fjord had saved her, so she could give the group some hope.

But the rest of her thought dying in the temple might have been better than the agony she was in right now.

It had been so obviously a trap, looking back on it. There was no way the information the Bright Queen had been needing to get ahead in the war was that easily available.

And like the fools they were, the Mighty Nein had played into the hands of Trent Ikithon’s minions.

Ikithon hadn’t shown up himself of course. No, this wasn’t a big enough job for that. Instead he had let his trainees take care of the mess, certain they would be enough to take care of them.

Oh, at the leadership of Astrid, nonetheless.

The panic Jester had been feeling after seeing they had been ambushed only intensified when she heard Caleb whisper Astrid’s name under his breath.

“Caleb, no!” she had screamed as he began to walk towards the woman, but she was caught off guard as another spellcaster had sent a round of fire bolts her way. The scream was useless; Caleb had eyes for Astrid and Astrid alone.

“Nott!” Jester screamed as she used her shield to deflect the flames. “Nott, we have to get to Caleb!”

The goblin woman was managing to dodge between stalagmites and shoot her crossbow without taking too many hits. As she took out the knee of one of the younger looking mages, she lifted her wire-wrapped finger up to her mouth and whispered “Where is Caleb? What is he doing? Youcanreplytothismessage.”

“That woman at the back, it’s Astrid! Caleb recognized her. She’s going to kill him, Nott, we have to help him!” A swarm of unicorn hamsters converged on another of the young mages. Even as he fell Jester couldn’t help but feel bad for him. With everything she knew about what Ikithon had done to Caleb and Astrid, the poor boy was probably just as brainwashed.

“Shit!” Jester heard Nott’s voice in her head. “This is bad, this is really bad.”

Getting a second to breathe, Jester took stock of the cavern which they had been ambushed in. Fjord was engaged with two magicians, while Beau was busy dodging the attacks of three others.

Yasha had managed to take out a few with the Magician’s Judge, but more piled on. Caduceus shook off a few attackers thanks to his beetles, but a flash of light from above indicated there were at least a few mages hidden in the crevices present towards the top of the cavern. They might not be outmatched, but they were certainly outnumbered, and that was bad news for the Might Nein.

“Nott, this is a really bad idea but I’m going to run for him. Can you cover me?” Jester’s voice trembled as she asked her friend for help. It was going to be a risk for her to make it to Caleb before he could get to Astrid, but she had to try it. She glanced back at Nott, who nodded her head despite the worried look she clearly had on her face.

As Jester began to charge forward, Nott let out a volley of arrows unlike any of the Nein had seen before and causing a chain reaction which appeared to turn the tide of the battle in their favor. One struck right through the throat of Beau’s opponent, giving her enough time to paralyze the second combatant and leaving her in a much better position to deal with the remaining mage. Beau turned around and ran at the wall, launching herself off with a flurry of kicks which knocked the remaining mage prone. In trying to get away from the barbarian, one of Yasha’s opponents tripped over their companion and accidentally threw herself into Fjord’s falchion as it was on the backswing. The sudden impact startled Fjord, who nearly missed being impaled himself by another of Nott’s arrows. That projectile found itself embedded in the forehead of one of Caduceus’s attackers instead. The cleric took the opportunity to revert the rest of the beetles on his remaining opponent. Just like that, the path to Caleb- and Astrid- was clear.

Caleb had already reached Astrid, whose face went from bored disgust to incredulity to smug pity in the space of seconds. Damn it Caleb, Jester thought. He’s already told her who she is, she knows, she’s going to kill him, or bring him back to Trent Ikithon.

Panicking, Jester focused on Astrid, raising her hands to cast a spell. She knew it wouldn’t work, there was no way she could manage to dominate the mind of someone as powerful as Astrid, but maybe if she could just take enough of her attention away from Caleb….

As soon as the Traveler’s powers began to emanate from Jester’s hand however, they were gone. She saw an arcane symbol flash out of existence above her head, and realized these mages knew the same magic Caleb had used to counter other spells in the past. Shit shit shit, this is really bad…

Jester tried to summon another bout of energy, aiming to deafen Astrid with Toll the Dead but as her hand began the somatic element of the spell she felt her entire body freeze. Even mid-run her body paused, pain coursing through her body. She could feel her cells screaming for air as she tried to force herself through it, but it was no use.

One by one she could hear the sound of weapons clattering to the ground, and for one happy second Jester was convinced her companions had triumphant. But as her frozen gaze remained transfixed on Astrid, she saw the smug expression on the mage’s face and her heart sank. Ikkithon and Astrid had played them and they, like fools, had fallen into their trap and lost.

“So, this is the Mighty Nein, then?” Jester was finding it hard to concentrate on Astrid with the holding spell keeping her in place. Every inch of her body was in agony, but she forced herself to pay attention to what the mage was saying. “I expected more of you.”

Astrid walked up to Caleb, who was still standing in front of her…. Or rather, he was levitating from what Jester could see. Astrid seemed to be holding her left hand out towards Caleb, but clenched in a fist. He had his own hands around his throat, grasping as if to pull an invisible hand away from him. Jester wasn’t entirely sure what Astrid had done to Caleb but she began to pour all of her mental energy into trying to break the hold on her body.

“This was certainly a surprise though.” Astrid moved up to Caleb and gently caressed his cheek with her free hand. “You’re all grown up Bren. Master would be so proud.”

Caleb’s breathing had turned heavy and he managed to let out a sort of grunt in response to Astrid’s taunting.

“It’s such a shame you’re wasting your talents on these pathetic ants. You could have had so much more, Bren. Eodwulf and I were patient. Even when Master wrote you off, the two of us thought you might return eventually, your sanity restored and we could take over together.” With every step, Astrid took a step around Caleb, circling him with a hunger in her eyes. “But he was right all along it turns out. Unless you’ve suddenly had a change of heart?” She had returned to her previous position, facing the rest of the Mighty Nein, inches from Caleb’s face.

“Astrid…” Caleb whispered through whatever hold she had placed around his throat.

Jester had seen people with a lust for power before but this-whatever was dancing across Astrid’s face right now was like a glimpse into the plane of madness. “Yes?” Astrid said, shifting even closer.

“Fuck…. Off….” Caleb managed to spit out.

Something glinted across Astrid’s eyes as her face shifted. “So be it then.” She brought her closed fist up and without flinching, twisted it violently to the side.

Jester felt the sickening crack that followed inside her heart. Time slowed down to a crawl as she watched the next few seconds unfold. She couldn’t move as Astrid unballed her fist, couldn’t run to Caleb as his body crumpled to the floor. All she could do was stand here, frozen, screaming in silence as she watched him die.

“Enjoy what time you have left, Mighty Nein. Master Ikkithon is looking forward to meeting you and I will be more than happy to introduce you.” With that, Astrid muttered an incantation and the mages vanished into thin air.

Oxygen flooded back into Jester’s body and her knees gave way as the holding spell was lifted. Desperately scrambling for breath, she began to crawl towards the broken body that lay feet in front of her.

“Caleb…” she screamed, tears pouring down her face. Hands began to lift her up and she turned to see Beau. The monk lifted the little tiefling into her arms and began to run towards Caleb’s body.

Jester forced herself to take a breath, calling on the Traveler for his strength as Beauregard set her down in front of the wizard. Her hands flitted around his throat, searching for a pulse. Nothing.

By this point the rest of the Mighty Nein had gathered around Caleb. “Caleb! Caleb!!” Nott was yelling in his ear. Fjord was kneeling to Jester’s right while Caduceus had crouched opposite the two of them. Beauregard had turned away, one hand resting on Yasha, who had her head bowed.

Panicking, Jester summoned a healing spell and laid her hands on Caleb, hoping that would be enough. As the warm light washed over the wizard, she prayed for any sign of movement. The magic faded, but once again nothing happened.

“It’s not working!” Jester shrieked, looking at her hands. She quickly clasped them over her mouth, trying to keep her sobs from bursting out. She could hear Beauregard starting to sniffle in the background and panic began to well in her chest.

“Jester, you’ve got to do something! Please Jester, I know you can do it, you did it with Caduceus, bring him back!” Nott was clutching Jester’s sleeves, her bright yellow eyes glancing frantically between Jester and Caleb’s lifeless body. But all Jester could do was shake her head.

“Jester,” Caduceus’s voice pierced through her panic. “If his spirit is willing, you can revive him.”

“I can’t Caduceus. We don’t have enough diamonds, I can’t bring him back.” She reached into her satchel and brought out the diamonds they had collected. The merchant had only been able to give them 250 gold worth; they were at least 50 short of what the Traveler required as sacrifice to bring a spirit back.

“Wait!!” Nott yelled, diving frantically into Caleb’s bag. After a moment of rummaging, she pulled out the diamond he used for his spells, the one that had come in handy so many times. “Use this!”

“Nott, I can’t use his diamond! He would be so mad at me when it’s gone…” Jester felt tears began to stream down her cheeks.

“Jester,” she felt Fjord’s hand rest on her shoulder. “If Caleb is mad at you for usin’ his diamond, then at least that means he’s here to be mad at you in the first place.”

“We’re running out of time,” Caduceus said. “We need to do this now. I’ll be glad to assist.” The firebolg stretched his hand out to Jester across Caleb’s body.

Shaking, Jester took his hand in her left. She used her remaining hand to arrange the diamonds across Caleb’s body, making sure to place his own diamond on top of his heart. As she went to grab Caduceus’s other hand, she saw that Nott had already taken it, with her other hand wrapped around Beau’s. Beau in turn held Yasha, who had joined hands with Fjord.

“You got this, Jessie,” Fjord said, taking Jester’s hand in his own and completing the circle around Caleb. “Bring him home.”

“Traveler…” Jester begin. Her voice was trembling, so she paused to steady herself. She felt Caduceus and Fjord squeeze her hands in reassurance. “Traveler, are you there? Please help us to bring Caleb back. We don’t want him to go yet…” As Jester spoke, she felt a warmth wash over her and two of the diamonds on Caleb began to glow.

“Caduceus, I don’t think that was enough!” she glanced at her fellow cleric with wide eyes.

“You’ve got to offer something else then,” Caduceus said, surprisingly calm. “Mr. Caleb needs a reason to come back.”

She nodded, trying to force back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. “Caleb? I don’t know if you can hear me… but if you can, please come back to us. We need you…. I need you… The truth is I try to be a really happy person and make people happy. But you’re my favourite person to make smile and if I don’t have you here then who am I going to annoy and make silly faces at? And who will let me pet their cat octopus bird thing when I’m feeling sad? Please Caleb, come home. I love you.”

As the words left Jester’s mouth the last diamond, the one located on his heart, began to softly glow-then all three diamonds immediately shattered into tiny diamonds fragments. Jester felt the magic leave the area…. But Caleb didn’t stir.

“Did it work?” Beau asked. Nott frantically threw her ear onto Caleb’s chest, searching for a heartbeat. The group held their breath waiting for Nott to pull herself up, but the goblin woman just shook her head sadly.

“I’m sorry Jester….”

The wail that came out of Jester was unlike anything she had felt before. She couldn’t believe she had let her best friend down so phenomenally… or rather, perhaps, that the ritual had worked, and that Caleb had simply chosen not to come back. All those times she had spent making him laugh, trying to bring a bit of brightness to his day, and he had still not seen it worthwhile to return-that thought was too painful to entertain.

Jester sobbed into Caleb’s lifeless chest, refusing to let go. “Please Caleb, don’t leave us just yet.” Her hands clasped at the wizard’s coat, grasping so tight she began to lose feeling in her hands. “I’m sorry, Caleb, I’m so sorry.”

Jester suddenly found herself flung away from Caleb as an enormous breath rushed into his body. The entire group gasped, startled by the wizard’s late appearance. Jester couldn’t believe what she was seeing as she watched his eyes flutter frantically, the blood in his body beginning to circulate again.

“Ow,” Caleb muttered as he began to sit up before shifting into a state of panic. “Astrid…. Where did she go?”

“Shhhh, Mr. Caleb,” Caduceus knelt down and put a large furry hand on his shoulder. “She’s gone but now’s not the time for that, you need to rest.”

“We do not have time for that, she is going to alert everyone to our presence!” Caleb began to search through his component pouch. “We need to go after her and…. Where is my diamond?”

“About that…” Nott walked up to Caleb, being nearly at eye level with him now that he had sat up. “You died back there Caleb. Astrid killed you. And we had to… well…”

“I used it to bring you back,” Jester said softly. She refused to meet his eyes. Of course he was upset about using his diamond, she just hadn’t expected to deal with it so soon. “Please don’t be mad at me Caleb, we didn’t know what else to do.”

“Jester, I…” Here Caleb paused to groan as he shifted forward. Jester felt a hand gently lift her chin up, forcing her tear-filled eyes to meet his. “I could never be mad at you, Blueberry.”

With that she threw herself onto Caleb, wrapping herself around his torso. He gave a grunt of pain but wrapped his arms tightly around her in response. His scruff tickled the side of her face, but she barely noticed so wrapped up in him, his scent, the fact she could feel his heartbeat where it hadn’t been just seconds ago.

“Thank you for coming back, Caleb,” Jester whispered into his ear.

“I’ll always come home to you, Jester.”

[dent-de-leon]

Hello, I am here once again to cast my Molly thoughts onto you.

Very often I think about Molly once being quiet…empty. But then he thrives in the joys, laughter, and color of the carnival, and then with the Nein.

But sometimes, Molly will have dreams, visions, nightmares of the quiet, the empty, THE EYES, and suddenly, he’s in a state of silence, unable to talk.

The Nein are fumbling on what to do, but then Yasha, his dear Yasha, easily holds himself close, and he hangs onto her like a lifeline. She does her best to talk despite not being the best conversationalist, but it’s what Molly is so familiar with, so soothed by. She tells him of the colorful flowers she’s seen, the crackling sound of thunder from her trips away from the group, the bustling sounds of people she has passed by.

The Nein learn from this, making sure that when Molly is unnervingly silent, they give him sounds, colors, warmth.

Molly may be silent, but never is he empty.

Oh, I absolutely headcannon this as well!! We know that Molly did have nightmares about Lucien and the Eyes--dreams that he always tried to forget. And at the very end of Campaign 2, Matt describes the haunting visions that Kingsley still sees of Cognouza and Lucien night after night. King reliving the moment when he sacrificed himself over and over, the primal alien screams and black chains that followed--

So I definitely think Molly/King still has moments when he feels that familiar, gnawing ache of Empty, once too many nightmares and memories come pouring back. And I can definitely see Yasha running right to his side. When Molly first confesses the truth about Lucien and his days of clawing Emptiness, he's so grateful to have Yasha there for him. Gives her a pat on the shoulder and says, "Thank you, dear." And at the very start of the episode, he stays close by her, still trying to suppress a panic attack--laughing nervously, admitting shakily, "I'm so glad to see you."

Just having Yasha near helps ground him. And if he got lost in feeling Empty again--even if the rest of the world and his memories start to fade, I think he'd still very much be drawn to her and reach out to her for comfort all the same.

I think a lot about how King Molly's first word after Empty is Love, how he goes up to Yasha and gives her a big hug and holds on tight. The way he goes and picks flowers for her and Beau in the Blooming Grove--all these little things that show how much he loves his charm and the rest of the Nein, even though he still doesn't have the words to say it.

The way Jester shows Tealeaf each of the cards in his tarot deck, gently tells him that she hopes just having them again will make him feel a little bit better. Tries her best to give him something concrete to hold onto, to anchor him. I can see her dealing out the cards between them whenever Molly's feeling Empty again, Jester softly telling him who each person is and what their card means. Tealeaf clinging to the deck and reading through it over and over in the moonlight, trying to commemorate every face to memory. The way Jester's so protective of Molly like he always was of her.

And then...I just can't get over how it's Caleb Molly calls out to first after Yasha. How first and foremost he has his Love, is warmed by just the sight of her so much, and then calls out for his Magician right after. The way Caleb fought so hard just for the chance to reunite with Molly, limped to his side and begged the rest of the Nein to save him. Casting the spell to resurrect him, promising so earnestly, "Empty no longer, Mr. Tealeaf." Caleb showing so much love and compassion for Mollymauk, that when all hope seems lost, when he doesn't wake--it's him Yasha turns to for comfort, looking to him for help as she cries, "Is there nothing else to do...? Caleb?" Because they both just love him so much. Because Yasha trusts Caleb to save him.

In those moments when Molly/King goes nonverbal, I think Caleb would also be very patient, very understanding. Because he'd been through very much the same thing, all those years in the sanitarium. We see panel after panel of him silently moving through the years in a haze, and I think it's very much implied he never spoke, never really felt aware. Just years and years of walking through this nightmare, dissociating from the world around him--Trent's spell further distancing him from himself, locking all his memories away.

So if anyone would understand exactly what it is Tealeaf's feeling when all he can say is Empty, I think it's Caleb. Because for an entire decade, that's how he felt. I can see him being kind and gentle with Molly in those moments the way he wished someone would have been for him. Sitting by his side when the memories get to be too much, when it all eats away at him until he feels hollow again. Caleb delicately parting his hair and giving him another forehead kiss, promising him again that he isn't Empty anymore--

It's like how Yasha told Molly having a family again made her feel less empty. I think her and Caleb just understand a lot of Molly's pain and grief in a very intimately familiar way, and it makes them both want to reach back out to Mollymauk like he did for him. Molly, who tells Lucien, "We love broken things the most," and gives his whole heart to try and save other shattered souls.

And I just love your idea that Yasha would see how Molly is grounded by color and light and joy and life; all the vibrant, beautiful things that Molly saw in the world, even though he still knew it was so "harsh and cruel." Yasha giving Mollymauk more wonderful memories to fill that Emptiness, to remind him that he is alive, and whole, and loved.

I think of Yasha holding onto Molly and hugging him as tight as she can when they fall asleep. Playing old songs from the circus on her harp. Beau reading pages from her journal aloud, showing off all the little trinkets she gathered in their travels. Jester fanning out the tarot deck and inviting him to pick a few cards. Drawing with him under the stars. Caleb casting Prismatic Image until golden memories flicker all around them, retelling all of their adventures like it's his favorite story, watching the way Tealeaf's eyes light up--

[critical-ramblings]

Mind’s Eye (7/n)

Previous chapters start here (also on AO3!)

They were in a field. No, Yasha looked around behind them and saw a lurking behemoth of a house, a broad dirt path leading up to the double-wide front doors. And the grass here was kept trimmed, the trees cut into graceful shapes that looked more like arcane runes than trees. She instantly disliked the place, though she couldn’t have said why.

“Where are we?” Fjord asked, after a minute or so when nothing tried to kill them. No little Caleb came running out to intercept them, though Yasha could hear a rooster crowing around the back of the huge house. Windows gleamed back at her in the early morning sunlight, their arched tops watching the party of motley adventurers gathered outside.

“I don’t know. Didn’t Caleb mention something about being taken out of school?” Beau looked over at Nott, who narrowed her eyes as she looked up at the house and took a drink.

“Are we in his dreams or his memories?” Caduceus asked, crouching down to crumble some of the dirt in his large hand. “Nott, what’d he say about it?”

The little goblin scowled up at the house even as she answered, like she might win a staring contest with the windows. “He said Icky-dick fed him some potion, that whenever he ‘failed’ he woke up in the smoke room. I don’t know. He’s definitely asleep, right? Are we asleep?” she turned to look at Jester. “That’s what your spell does, right?”

“Yeah, totally,” Jester nodded, then narrowed her eyes and looked around. “Although none of my dreams are this boring...” For a moment, the grass and carefully shaped trees shimmered, slid into brightly painted versions of themselves where Jester was looking. The ocean spilled towards their feet, blues and whites and purples in thick brush-strokes that nevertheless smelled of salt.

Yasha caught a glimpse of a horse-fish looking creature not far away, before a door slammed open up at the house. A human girl stood in the doorway, one hand raised to shade her eyes from the sun. With the painted surf still washing over their feet, all of the Nein turned to watch her.

“Astrid,” Jester whispered, hands folded tightly in front of her. Without her attention, the little ocean she’d conjured began to shrink, and within a few moments had vanished with a small ploop.

“Are you here for Master Ikithon?” the girl called out, with a heavy Zemnian accent.

Yasha looked at Fjord, who was looking at Beau, who was still waiting for Nott to take the lead. Nott let out a wordless hiss when she realized that everyone’s attention was on her.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked, clutching very tightly at her flask. “He hasn’t told me any more than he told the rest of you!”

Beau gave a disbelieving snort, but she did step out and wave towards the house. “Hey! Yeah, sure, we’re actually looking for...Bren?”

The girl hesitated, might have said something under her breath. Eventually she waved them forward. If this was one of Caleb’s hunt-party, she would know enough magic to be dangerous. And there was no separation between having that thought and holding the Magician’s Judge in her hands. Yasha paused to look at the greatsword, because a moment ago she could have sworn she was unarmed. And she certainly hadn’t drawn the thing.

“Yasha!” Fjord made a frantic shushing gesture with both hands. “Let’s not antagonize the dream-wizards, right?”

“Right.” Yasha sheathed the greatsword without hesitation, but she continued to think as the Nein followed Astrid through an opulent hallway and into a room walled entirely with glass. And as strange as the walls were, they were nothing compared to the plants within them. Yasha was drawn immediately to the flowers; elaborate confections with frills of white and pink and yellow, some of them as wide as her hand. And others, with long orange necks and yellow tips, or bursts of red deeper than blood. The greenery itself was lush and well tended, but it reminded her too much of blades, of the ten-foot tall razor grass of her homeland. Thorns were hidden here, she was sure of it.

There was no sign of Caleb, but a familiar sallow old man stood in the courtyard just beyond the glass room. Astrid went out to him, glancing back when the group hesitated at the doorway.

“Is anyone else getting trap vibes from this?” Beau asked out of the corner of her mouth.

“No, yeah, definitely,” Jester and Fjord and Caduceus were quick to agree. Yasha stayed quiet, and she saw that Nott did too. The goblin was busy scanning the plants and vases around them, more focused on finding Caleb than dealing with his ‘dream-wizards,’ as Fjord had said.

Trap or not, they went out. Yasha brought up the rear, realizing only later that she’d somehow lost sight of Nott.

Ikithon looked exactly the same as the day she’d met him in Zadash. He nodded and smiled at them the same way he had in real life, a half-sneer like he was too good to be talking to such peasants. Yasha had grown very familiar with that look during her time with the circus.

“Welcome to my home,” Ikithon said, his smile vanishing once it’d done its work. “I assume you know why you are here?”

“Uh, no, actually,” Beau straightened her shoulders, puffed out her chest and set her jaw. “Where’s Bren?”

Ikithon only raised an eyebrow and didn’t answer. Instead, he folded his arms and said, as if Beau hadn’t spoken, “Your kind of fickle sellsword is tolerated because of your occasional usefulness to the Empire. You trespass on the goodwill of common folk fearing for their lives from some monster, you carouse and drink at every available opportunity. Bands like yours cause more damage than good, but still, you are tolerated.”

“Hold on just a--” Ikithon spoke louder, drowning out Beau’s protests. Yasha leaned over to Caduceus, whose frown was the most seriously upset she’d ever seen him. “Seems a little harsh,” she muttered, and the cleric shot her a glance.

“He’s not really saying it to us,” Caduceus answered quietly.

But before Yasha could ask what he meant, Ikithon snapped his fingers and said, “Kill them,” and everything happened very quickly.

Ikithon vanished in a cloud of blue-green mist, and a familiar bead of red energy sped towards them from somewhere out on the grounds. It detonated before any of them could react, and everything was a wash of red and roaring flames. Yasha felt them curl around her, sharper than they should be. Hotter than the flames Caleb had conjured before. Was this some trick of his past, something he used to know in the waking world? Or some other facet of the dream?

There was no doubt that it was Caleb. As the smoke cleared, it was Jester who screamed out his name, reaching towards a slight figure in red robes, far away across the lawn. Even as Yasha turned he ducked back behind a tree and disappeared.

From across the way, in a grove of smaller trees, there was a flash of movement and another streak of light. The thunder hit her a moment after the lighting, barely missing Yasha but slamming into Jester, then Fjord. Beau moved faster than the light, ducking out of its spidery path as it spent itself against the brick of the house behind them.

“Fuck!” Fjord said, coughing as his hands spasmed in the aftermath of electricity.

That was when the poisonous cloud rolled over them, obscuring both of the far-away wizards and stinking of tar. The fumes burned her nose and throat, and Yasha lost a few moments trying to hack the acid feeling from her lungs. Jester ran out past her, then Fjord, and then a small darting shape that might have been Nott.

There was a desperate cry of pain nearby, and the cloud began to dissipate. Yasha was able to straighten up, and this time she did mean to draw the Magician’s Judge and bare her teeth. The familiar weight of her rage bubbled up within her; how dare these wizards hurt her friends? And Caleb, who they were only trying to help...she wouldn’t blame him, later. After all, this wasn’t the first time they’d taken damage from him. But she could be angry now.

Yasha looked around the lawn, wrecked now, with fires flickering in the corners of the paved courtyard and black stains from the tar-cloud. Beau was all the way over by the oak tree where Caleb had hidden, the others spread out to where another fireball wouldn’t devastate them so completely. Yasha and Caduceus were the only ones left in the courtyard, actually. Just past them to the right, backed up against the wall of the house, Astrid was clutching the feathered end of crossbow bolt embedded in her chest.

Even as Yasha glanced in the little mage’s direction, Jester’s sparkling energy bolt streaked pasts and lit her up from the inside. For a half-second the bones of her face were visible, outlined in pink, and then she collapsed back against the brick.

“Astrid!” Caleb’s voice was still boyishly high, though it cracked in the middle of her name. Beau had backed him into the open, and even from a hundred feet away Yasha could see him swaying. He had never been the hardiest of them.

In her rage, Yasha’s only thought was to eliminate the threats; their weakness was her gain. The feral part of her trusted Beau to finish what she’d started, so Yasha turned her attention to the other grove. Her boots crunched on burned grass as she ran, failing to drown out Ikithon’s magically enhanced voice as it boomed across the garden. “Kill them first! There will be time for healing later.”

The boy in the grove couldn’t have been more than fifteen. He saw Yasha coming and scrambled back, his face still round with baby fat. And then splattered with blood as her greatsword carved into him, the familiar jolt of breaking bones running up her arms. He was still standing, after, but barely. A very small part of her, under seething rage and satisfaction, wondered what his name was.

“This isn’t how it happened,” the boy whispered, and a screaming wind tore through the trees. It was no spell Yasha had ever heard of, no magic she had ever seen. One moment she was standing over the child with her sword dripping, and the next her skin was burning, her sword was gone, and the wizard another fifty feet away. The expression on his face was hard to read, but Yasha could see the cruel expectation on it when he looked up for Ikithon. The blood in her eyes and hands was her own, now. Something hot and acid twisted in her gut, and Yasha knew just how close to death she was.

But it wasn’t until Jester yelled, “Hey, that’s cheating!” that she realized what must have happened. If they could change the dream, so could Caleb. Caleb, who was trying to kill them.

“Wake up, man!” Beau said, from not-very-far-away. Yasha pushed her way back through the trees, which had grown thicker and tighter together in a moment. Against her back, she felt the itch of an oncoming spell, but managed to shrug it off. She needed to find her party, make sure they were...

The wreckage of the lawn hadn’t changed much in the wind. But Jester was crouched next to Caduceus, unconscious on the stone. Nott was huddled in the shadow of a garden statue, both hands clutched to her chest to hold her ribs together. Astrid was awake, though still bloody, a wickedly curved dagger in one hand. Fjord was using his falchion to stand up from where he’d been blasted onto his knees. Even as Yasha watched he turned to spit blood onto the ground.

Beau was also breathing heavily, clutching her staff in a way that meant she couldn’t stand without it. Caleb stood next to her, both hands pressed to his head looking...almost exactly like the younger version of him had, before the fire came.

Warily, Yasha looked around, tried stepping on one of the flickering remnants of the fireball. It was still there when she lifted her foot, a little more singed than before.

“You’re damn right this isn’t how it happened,” Beau transferred her grip to the front of Caleb’s robes, letting her staff fall to the ground. Yasha, keeping one eye on the fire, thought she saw it flicker a little higher. But the whole scene was slowed, thick with some struggle she could feel in the very air. “Wake up, Caleb,” Beau said again, more gently.

The boy just looked at her. His mouth opened and closed a few times, until finally he said, “If this isn’t...how it goes?”

But it was Astrid who finished the sentence, sliding up behind Jester and slitting her throat. “Then it can go however you want,” the Zemnian girl said viciously. Jester choked, and black smoke poured out with her blood. Beau screamed, shoving Caleb back as she ran to her friend.

Yasha couldn’t beat her there, despite being closer, because this time the tickle of a spell at the back of her neck didn’t dissipate, but grabbed and held her whole. She could hear her joints crack as they froze, the impulse to run still pounding through her. The fires burned no brighter, Caleb in the distance still standing slack as Astrid’s dagger swept dismissively through Caduceus’ chest and darted towards Fjord. Smoke stinking of charred meat and plaster poured in around them, obscuring almost everything--but not before the short sword emerged from her chest, cold as winter, stopping her from breathing.

***

“This isn’t...how it goes?” He turned to Astrid, who wrapped a hand around his upper arm. Behind him, his mother screamed; it was the sound of ice cracking in his mind.

“You can make it better, Bren,” Astrid said, and he could feel Eodwulf’s hand on his shoulder, holding him up. Holding him back. “You can make it right this time.”

He was breathing too fast, he knew. Black dots closed in around his vision, or was that smoke? He could smell his parents burning. Bren buried his face in Astrid’s shoulder and the ice...stopped cracking. He was a spiderweb of fault lines, but he was not broken. He focused on Astrid’s hand in his hair, and began to let go of the truth--that this was not how it happened.

And then someone called his name. “Caleb!” she said, but that was not his name, his name was--

“Caleb! Where the fuck is he?”

And someone else he loved said, “I don’t know, but I’m going to kick his smoky ass for that shit, just wait.”

And Jester sounded worried when she said, “Do you think our Caleb goes somewhere else than we do?” 

Caleb looked back, to where the voices were coming from, and saw the wreck of his home...and the ice broke. He fell, and fell, and he would never stop falling, he would never deserve to stop falling because he killed them, and only then did the smoke swallow him.

[sockablock]

How ‘bout the high priestess/the magician (both from the tarot list, you can pick one) for widomauk?

(oh BOY I looked over “the magician” and saw ‘the supernatural’ and ‘first meetings’ and FRIEND, i have no idea what this new AU is but I might be in love. Also, sorry in advance that the widomauk is not very strong, think of this like a setup for that relationship and I hope it’s enough!! 💜💜💜 )

“—ridiculously dangerous,” Caleb hissed, shaking his head. “We are going to get lost.”

“Dude, I’ve got a phone,” Beau whispered. “And the others know we left. Just hold that flashlight, alright? And stop stepping on so many leaves! You’re making way too much noise.”

“We are in a forest,” Caleb muttered back. “That is impossible.”

“Impossible, my ass. Now come on, I think it came from over there.”

Caleb sighed, but continued to follow Beau through the shrouded trail, under the looming evergreens with the moon hanging high above them. And after another minute or so of careful creeping, they arrived at a small clearing, still and silent in the autumn night.

Well, it should have been.

Two silhouettes stood in the middle of the glade, one of average height, the other over seven feet tall. They seemed humanoid, but there was something peculiar, something off about their shapes. Unfortunately, Caleb and Beau couldn’t see well enough in the darkness to tell what it was. Caleb immediately extinguished the light, and they both crouched down behind some bushes.

“Do you think they saw us?” he murmured.

“Nah,” Beau said. “Probably not, anyways.”

“Great.”

“What do you suppose they’re doing here?” she asked.

Caleb rolled his eyes. “They are probably conducting important business. Business that is not ours.”

“I bet it’s a drug deal,” she whispered. “These woods are full of criminals and shit.”

“What does that say about us, I wonder?” he mumbled back. Then he sighed and said, “We should head back, now. I am sure Fjord is going crazy being left alone with Jester and Nott.”

Beau shook her head. “I wanna know more,” she whispered. “Hang on, I’m gonna get closer.” She started to move, still crouched, but Caleb grabbed her by the sleeve of her hoodie and shook his head.

“Nein, Beauregard. That is too dangerous.”

“Lighten up, Caleb,” she countered. “I’ll be fine, I know kung-fu.”

“What if they are armed?” he pressed. “Will kung-fu protect you then?”

“Kung-fu will always protect me,” Beau nodded. “No man stands a chance.”

“Well, then!” A voice rang out. “Luckily, for me, I’m not a man!”

Caleb and Beau immediately pressed their bodies close to the ground, hid themselves as best they could behind the bush.

It didn’t help, of course.

“Relax!” The voice called again. “I’m not a drug dealer, and I don’t have any guns. Just come out here, and nobody will get hurt.”

Beau, despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins, paused.

“If you haven’t got any guns, how will you hurt us?” she asked.

There was a brief silence. Caleb’s hearing wasn’t that great, but he would’ve sworn that there was hurried, hush whispers coming from within the clearing.

“My friend here says that I shouldn’t have led with that information,” the voice called out again. 

“Yeah, no kidding!” Beau yelled back.

“But,” the voice continued, “she also wants you to know that we don’t need guns to kill.”

At the same time Caleb murmured, “This is bad—”

Beau’s eyes went wide and she looked up. “Fuck,” she whispered. “I don’t know who ‘she’ is, but she sounds super-hot.”

“Beauregard—”

“She is super hot!” The voice laughed. “And relax, we aren’t going to maim you or anything, we just want to know what crazy humans are interrupting our meeting.”

There was another quick bout of whispers.

“Fine, fine, I want to meet them, is that so bad? Don’t be so dramatic, it’ll be fine. And hey, we’re waiting!” the voice added.

Caleb and Beau exchanged glances. Which was useless, because they could barely see anything. Then Caleb flicked on the flashlight and they stood up slowly, just in time to see the two silhouettes drawing closer.

Caleb wasn’t sure if he was imaging things, but in the darkness it looked like one of the figures had a pair of glowing, ruby-red eyes.

The shapes drew to a stop a few feet away from their shrub. 

“Well,” said the voice. “Hel-lo to you. Yasha, is it my birthday?”

A new voice spoke. It said:

“You do not have a birthday.”

Now, at this distance, Caleb and Beau could make out what was so strange about these shapes. Not only were they much taller than they seemed, it almost looked like one of them had a massive cloak over its shoulders, and the other had…had…

Caleb rubbed his eyes. He squinted.

“Entschuldigung, strange newcomer, is that a hat on your head?”

The shape with the bright eyes smiled. Its grin caught the moonlight and strangely, a few of its teeth were more pointed than they should have been.

“Lift your flashlight, dear,” it said. “And try not to faint, I know I have that effect on people.”

Caleb did. Then he immediately panicked, because the light almost fell from his hands. 

Standing before him, well over six feet tall, was a purple-skinned, ram-horned…something, who indeed had piercing, pupil-less eyes, and wore shit-eating grin. In the brief moment Caleb stared, he also took in a maroon coat, hundreds of tiny, detailed stitches, a chest full of scars, and…was that a tail…?

“Holy fuck,” Beau breathed. “Are you an angel?”

Caleb followed her gaze. Standing across from her, was a massive woman with marble-pale skin, dozens of thick black braids spilling from her head. And sprouting out from her back, folded but still clearly visible, were inexplicably, unquestionably, two enormous wings of mottled grey feathers, spilling across her shoulders, the largest of them easily the length of Caleb’s forearm.

This time, he dropped the flashlight.

It clattered against the grass, and went out. He didn’t dare bend down to get it.

The first voice, coming from the lavender-skinned figure, laughed. “Oh, I love it when they act like this,” he said. “But enough foreplay, right? I should introduce myself properly. My name is Mollymauk. Molly, to my friends. And this is Yasha. And yes, she is an angel.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Beau slowly raised her hand. “Beau,” she said. “And…if she’s an angel, does that make you a—”

“A demon,” Caleb breathed.

There was a swish of air, and Molly bowed. “Correct!” he announced. “And what might your name be, dear?”

Caleb opened his mouth. Then he paused. “Actually,” he said, “I do not think I should tell you that.”

This was met with another laugh. “Very good! But I can promise you, I would do nothing untoward with that information. I’m one of the good guys, you see.”

“I can’t see shit,” Beau pointed out.

Molly sighed. “If that was a joke, it wasn’t very good. But I suppose you’re right. Why trust me, right? Well!”

He snapped his fingers, and the flashlight suddenly turned back on, shot up into the air and back into Caleb’s hands, illuminating the four of them with a soft, orange light.

“You don’t need to trust me,” Molly said. “You just need to answer one question.“

Beau crossed her arms. “And what’s that?” 

“Where in the ever-loving fuck are we?” Molly asked. His smile had turned sheepish, his gaze searching. “Also, do you know if there’s somewhere we could lay low, preferably with a bunch of humans nearby?”

“I am kind of in trouble,” Yasha said, raising a hand. If an angel could look embarrassed, she certainly did. “I could use some help. Please.”

Beau and Caleb exchanged glances. Both of them were, understandably, dealing with a number of emotions at the moment.

“That is a lot to ask,” Caleb began slowly. “You will understand if we say—”

“We’ve got cabin.” Beau was staring directly at Yasha. “You can come with us.”

Molly looked just as surprised as Caleb.

“What?” they both said, at exactly the same time.

Beau shrugged. She even turned around, started heading up the path towards their campsite. “Come on!” she called back, waving an impatient hand. “Our friends are there, too. I’m sure they’d love to meet you.”

Caleb, the demon, and the angel exchanged glances.

“Is she always like this?” Molly whispered.

Caleb pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed deeply. “Yes,” he muttered. “This is fairly normal. Let us…go, I suppose.” Then he closed his eyes and shook his head. “Scheiss, what is happening?”

When he opened his eyes again, he saw that the newcomers had already started to leave. They were slowly hiking—in Yasha’s case—and strutting—in Molly’s case—away.

“Come on, Mister Caleb!” Molly called. “These woods are full of crazy things, we should try to stay together! Oh, yes, I heard Beau say your name earlier! But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone!”

Caleb took a few moments longer to process what was going on. He lowered the flashlight, and stared off into the distance. After about ten seconds, he drew his jacket up around his shoulders, threw out a silent question of “why me?” into the universe, and slowly, hesitantly, headed up the beaten trail behind them.

(This was RIDICULOUSLY fun to write!! And if you’d like a request filled, check out this post and ask away! I also made a Ko-Fi, if you’re feeling generous! 💜)