“Alright alright, calm down, I was joking. And you weren’t a color. You were every color.”
Grillby blinked, “... Seriously?”
“Yep,” Gaster grinned, “Purple, blue, green, orange, yellow… just about every color I’ve ever seen a fire magic monster use. It was cool - er - awesome. Fire can’t be cool. Anyway, it started sometime while you were going through the sets.”
Did you know you should read Casting Rain by @silverskye13? Because you should read Silver's Casting Rain.
anyways.
75 notes
·
View notes
Two for joy: Chapter 33
"Is there anyone else who would challenge this proclamation?"
An unsteady silence, beneath the hymns of Pelor’s throne room.
Pelor has no eyes, unless His beacon of a face is but one. Vax’ildan feels His gaze shift to the left - still battering with its beaming, but at a new angle. He feels sunburned.
The gold of His voice is riches beyond fathoming, the priceless worth of a beautiful day. “And what of the one who accomplished my trial? Grand Mistress of the Grey Hunt?”
Vax feels his sister stiffen at his side. She hides it, beneath the Deathwalker’s Ward, beneath a sharply raised chin. “Am I not the Matron’s Champion?”
(He hears, for the first time, the emphasis of it. Champion, his sister. At last, or too late?)
“There is precedent, found in eons past,” Pelor afflicts, “of a mortal bearing the mantle of more than one. The Apotheon, Alyxian.” A tremble is shared by them, hearing a name of such power that even a god recalls it long after. “Brow beset by gifts of my sisters, three of them.”
This close, it’s obvious when the feathers of the Deathwalker’s Ward bristle, arching with threat.
“My apologies, Dawnfather,” says Vex’ahlia, “but I am unfortunately Hers and Hers alone. I do not think She would take kindly to my sharing.” She smiles as crookedly as she dares. “Besides - I don’t like being anyone’s to share. I fight for Whitestone and my family, not for any gods. I have no faith to give you.”
She clears her throat. “And - respectfully, Dawnfather… Keyleth asked, and offered.”
As Vex steps back, Keyleth steps up. Vax lets her go and almost wishes to feel cold.
Once more, Pelor booms: "A faithless stands to try and accept the Champion's mantle. I ask once more, is there any to challenge this claim?"
Keyleth’s nostrils flare.
“No,” Keyleth says, “there isn’t.”
[One for sorrow] [Ch1] [Keep reading on AO3]
21 notes
·
View notes
that was my critical role spam for today. unfortunately, it seems that no one drew lady vex with a hookah
god i wish i knew how to draw
0 notes