#fjord would be really embarrassed but he would humor her

[vesrin]

I won’t be able to see the Mighty Nein Reunion live but I’m so excited!!! I’ve missed them all so much 🥰

inspired by this post

#ves arts #critical role #jester lavorre #fjord #fjorester #the mighty nein #sprinkle #critical role fanart #critical role art #mighty nein reunited #mighty nein #aaaaaaaahh i missed them so so much!! #i tried really hard to finish this before the episode airs #and now off to study for exams i go #mighty nein my beloved #also while i was drawing this i imagined jester singing to fjord 'when love is true' fromthe count of monte cristo #idk i just thought it suited the moment 🥰 #fjord would be really embarrassed but he would humor her #oh and i gave jester laura's long hair because she looks GORGEOUS

[hysterialevi]

Naudr - A Sigurd Styrbjornson Fanfic

Fanfic summary: Eivor finally confesses the romantic feelings he has for Sigurd on the night of his return to Norway. (I was inspired to write this after hearing this song)

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

Author’s note: Welllll, here it is. My Sigurd fanfic. I gotta admit I’m nervous about sharing this since it’s my first time writing anything AC related, and I don’t even know if anyone else ships these two, but I hope you guys enjoy it >.< 

FORNBURG

NIGHTTIME

Sigurd froze on the spot and stared silently at the man in front of him, unable to process what just happened.

Did... Eivor just kiss him?

At first, Sigurd simply dismissed the romantic gesture as the actions of someone who had enjoyed too many cups of mead, but the shock on Eivor’s face told him otherwise.

He meant to do it -- at least, part of him did -- and now, it was fairly obvious that the regret was starting to sink in. His cheeks had become tinted with a faint shade of red, and the merry demeanor he once carried had been replaced with a state of panic.

Suddenly realizing what he had done, Eivor quickly glanced at the tankard in his grip and brought his gaze to the floor, doing his absolute best to avoid all eye contact with Sigurd.

“I-- I, um...” he stuttered, desperately trying to offer an explanation, “Oh, Gods, Sigurd... I’m so sorry. I... I shouldn’t have.”

The older man let out a soft chuckle, patting Eivor on the shoulder.

“Do not fear, brother. We all make fools of ourself from time to time. It’s the natural gift of drink. It unwinds the most hardened of men, and opens the hearts of the most reserved. But tonight is a night meant for celebration! Drink all the mead you wish.”

Eivor clearly wasn’t reassured by his brother’s words and simply kept his eyes on the ground, admittedly ashamed of his reckless behavior.

“...You are kind, Sigurd, but...” the man placed his tankard down on a nearby table, hanging his head low in embarrassment, “I think... I need to be alone right now.”

Sigurd furrowed his brow at the response, suddenly concerned about his brother’s well-being.

“Eivor,” he said in a gentler tone, “it’s alright. I mean it. It was a simple mistake, one I’m sure we’ve all made when we had alcohol clouding our minds. Do not fret.”

“A mistake...” Eivor repeated quietly, almost sounding... hurt by the comment. “Yes. A mistake.”

Sigurd gave his brother another hearty pat on the arm, attempting to keep his spirits up.

“Exactly. So, cheer up. The night is still young... and our casks are still far too full. Ha!”

But his jokes did little to comfort the man. Instead of returning to his usual state of sarcasm and humor like Sigurd expected, Eivor’s expression remained sunken with melancholy, and it seemed as if his mood was only deteriorating.

“Thank you, Sigurd,” he said lowly, “but... I think I’ll leave the celebrating to you for now. I... I need fresh air.”

Turning away from his brother, the younger man didn’t even give Sigurd a chance to respond before making a swift exit from the longhouse, eager to remove himself from the thick crowds of people and the boisterous guffaws of excitement that echoed throughout the halls.

It was strange, Sigurd thought, to see Eivor act in such a way. The man had done plenty of other silly things in the past while under the influence of mead -- some of them arguably worse than this -- and yet, one simple kiss was enough to completely sour his mood.

What was going on with him? Did something happen that he had yet to tell Sigurd about? Why was he being so distant?

There was more going on here than the younger man let on, but Sigurd didn’t know if it was the right time to pry.

His brother was clearly going through enough distress at the moment, after all, and the older man didn’t want to push him any further.

Perhaps it was time for the older man to step away from the feast. There was no question that Eivor was preoccupied with something more serious, and Sigurd did not wish to let his brother deal with it alone.

So, with a quick goodbye, Sigurd hurriedly downed the rest of his mead and bid the other guests farewell, rushing after Eivor to see where he had gone. 

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

Tearing himself away from the warmth of the longhouse, Sigurd trudged through the thick layers of snow that covered the region as he followed Eivor’s chain of footprints, worriedly searching for his absent brother.

Judging by the direction of the tracks, Sigurd assumed the younger man had retreated to the harbor, and that alone was enough to heighten his sense of concern.

Eivor never went to the harbor unless he was experiencing something profoundly troubling. It was the one place Sigurd would find him whenever he was going through loss, or heartache, or any sort of pain, really.

Something about the vastness of the fjord always seemed to set Eivor’s mind at ease. The sheer scale of the mountains made him feel as if there were stone guardians watching over their village, and the way the lights danced freely in the sky offered him a hypnotic solace.

It was the location of many of the deep conversations the two brothers had shared. The nature of the open view seemed to draw out their thoughts like nothing else, and Sigurd imagined they were about to have another one of those moments today.

He just hoped he’d be able to get Eivor to talk.

Finally reaching the harbor, Sigurd came to a halt and searched for the younger man, only to find him sitting at the end of the wooden pier.

His legs were hanging off the edge, and considering how his head bowed downwards, Sigurd guessed he was fidgeting with something in his hands. Though, he couldn’t see what it was from here.

As for the man himself, his mood appeared to be equally as sullen as when he first took his leave, if not more. There was no joy in his temperament; no motivation. It was as if the kiss from before had sucked the very life out of him, and Sigurd feared that his mere presence would not be enough to help Eivor.

Still, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try.

“Eivor.” He called out gently, casually approaching him from behind. “There you are.”

The younger man glanced over his shoulder upon hearing his name, seemingly unsurprised that Sigurd had followed him.

“Brother.” He greeted quietly. “I had a feeling you would come looking for me.”

“Of course I would,” Sigurd replied plainly. “You disappeared from the feast so abruptly. I feared something was wrong.”

The older man paused for a moment and took a seat next to his brother, quietly admiring the majestic view as the night carried on.

By now, the Northern Lights had illuminated the dark sky with a radiant turquoise glow, and the way the sea mirrored its wispy movement made Sigurd feel as if they were gazing into the wonders of Valhalla itself.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Sigurd remarked in awe. “They say the Valkyries use the light as a road to escort the honored dead to Valhalla. There are other places in the world that I must show you someday, Eivor, but it brings me great relief to finally be back in Norway.” He turned to his brother, smiling warmly at him. “I missed being here with you.”

Contrary to what Sigurd expected, the comment only seemed to sadden Eivor further.

“...I missed you too, Sigurd.” The man replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Eivor, what’s wrong?” Sigurd asked, picking up on his brother’s despondent tone. “Did something happen today? You’ve been acting strange ever since that kiss.”

Eivor sighed in discontent, reluctant to share his thoughts.

“I do not wish to burden you, brother.”

“You are anything but a burden, Eivor,” Sigurd answered, quick to defend him. “We are family. If there’s something that troubles you, I want to know.”

“...It’s nothing worth mentioning. Really.”

“It clearly is,” he persisted. “Really.”

Despite his eagerness to help Eivor, Sigurd couldn’t help but wonder if he was perhaps being too forceful with the man. Randvi always told him he was too forward with people -- especially in situations that required diplomacy -- and in the past, Sigurd would’ve disagreed with her.

But now... part of him worried that he was just making things worse.

Maybe it would’ve been best to leave Eivor alone with his thoughts. He clearly wasn’t willing to talk about whatever was on his mind, and Sigurd suspected that the more he pushed the man, the more he would simply close him off.

But... still. There was a part of him that refused to leave Eivor’s side. He was his big brother, after all, and the last thing he wanted was to abandon him when he was clearly going through a time of need.

“Eivor.” Sigurd said softly, leaning towards the man. “Talk to me.”

Letting out a deep sigh, Eivor shut his eyes in defeat and gazed downwards at the tranquil movement of the ocean, allowing the icy breeze of the fjord to help him relax.

He feared how his brother would react once he knew the truth, but deep down, he knew he couldn’t hold this feeling in anymore. It was poisoning him from the inside out -- afflicting him like an illness that just wouldn’t go away.

It changed the way he saw the world. The way he interacted with people. There had already been more than a few occasions where Eivor caught himself being unreasonably bitter towards others, and the frustration that came with it only increased his pain.

But he knew he couldn’t carry on like this. He had to find a remedy for his unanswered love, or suffer the consequences of it soon. 

He was hurting on the inside, and perhaps... Sigurd would be the key to his recovery. 

He just had to take a leap of faith.

“Sigurd,” Eivor finally said, his heart hammering in his chest, “The truth is... I’m in love with you.”

Offering nothing but silence in return, Sigurd simply stared at his brother incredulously upon hearing the confession and sat quietly beside him, completely at a loss for words.

His expression had barely shifted in response to what Eivor said, but the younger man could still tell that he was shocked.

Sigurd’s eyes appeared as if they had been fixated in place, and the way his smile subtly vanished caused Eivor to wonder if he had just made a terrible mistake.

“Brother?” Eivor asked. “Have you nothing to say?”

The older man remained still for a few more moments before finally turning away from Eivor and blinking in confusion, almost as if he were snapping out of his trance-like state. He flicked his eyes around in hopes of trying to appear calm, but both of them knew he was just as conflicted as his brother.

“I...” Sigurd whispered in disbelief, “...I don’t know what to say, Eivor.”

“It’s alright. You don’t have to say anything. It’s a secret I’ve kept to myself for many years now, and I never planned to give it away. Though, it’s clear that Freyja disagreed.”

“But I’m your sibling, Eivor,” the older man stated. “Your family. Does that not hinder your passion?”

Eivor shook his head. “You may be my family, Sigurd, but the truth is I never saw you as a brother. Even after your father adopted me. You were always just my friend. The one person who I could always trust. And as I grew older, that trust turned into something else. I found myself falling in love with you, the same way a man would love his wife... but I knew I couldn’t say anything.”

“You never considered telling me?” Sigurd questioned. “Not even once? Even after all these years? How long have you felt this way?”

“Ever since I was a very young man,” Eivor recalled. “Even before you married Randvi.”

A sudden thought crossed Sigurd’s mind at the mention of Randvi’s name.

“And what of my wife? What are your feelings towards her?”

Eivor’s expression dimmed with shame, and he gazed down at the water beneath his feet.

“...Although I’m not proud to admit it, I have envied her in the past. I bear no ill will towards Randvi, but... it’s always pained me to look at her and realize that I’ll never be in her position. I know it’s selfish to feel that way, but that doesn’t make my thoughts any less real.”

Sigurd nodded in understanding. “Of course.”

The older man shifted in his seat a little, appearing somewhat more relaxed than before.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, Eivor, I must confess that I’ve never experienced true love with Randvi. As terrible as that may sound.”

Eivor quirked a brow in surprise. “But she’s your wife.”

Sigurd chuckled at that. “Yes, and I married her purely for political reasons. Don’t forget that our marriage was an arranged one. I hardly had the chance to say ‘no’ before we were declared husband and wife. We were complete strangers at the time. You could’ve had me wed the barmaid from the local tavern and I wouldn’t have known the difference.”

Eivor cracked a small smile at the humorous response. “But you love her now, don’t you?”

“Ah...” Sigurd sighed, crossing his arms, “Randvi is a fine woman and an even greater friend, but she wasn’t meant for me. To be honest, I don’t think I was meant for her either.”

“...I’m sorry to hear that, Sigurd.” Eivor said sincerely. “It must be hard, being in a marriage that you didn’t choose.”

The older man didn’t seem bothered. “It’s not that I’m not happy with Randvi. Like I said, she’s become a good friend over the years. I just...” Sigurd leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “I feel as though I’m not with the person I should be. As if... they’re still out there somewhere.”

Eivor smirked, scooting closer to Sigurd. “I could recommend a few people, if you’d like.”

The redheaded viking laughed. “Oh? I can’t imagine who you’d pick.”

The younger man returned the chuckle. “Well, I suppose it depends on what you’re interested in. Though, I do know a man who’d be perfect for you.” 

Eivor paused for a second, suddenly realizing something. “...Wait, do you even like men, Sigurd?”

Sigurd hesitated to answer, unsure of how to properly express himself.

“I... can’t deny that a few men have caught my eye in the past. But I never fully explored these thoughts, for I did not wish to jeopardize my marriage. Nor did I want to risk being called an ergi everywhere I went.”

Eivor was surprised by the answer. “I... had no idea you felt that way, Sigurd. But why should you care if someone calls you ergi? Those who would scold you in such a manner aren’t worth the dirt on your boots.”

“I wish it were that simple, but being the son of a king, people expect you to meet higher standards. They expect you to bring honor to your family. And besides, you know the consequences of scolding. I have no desire to engage in a holmgang every time someone throws an insult at me.” 

Sigurd gave his brother a solemn look, mindlessly reaching for his hand. “There’s also the fact that I did not want to disappoint you.”

Catching himself before their hands could meet, Sigurd’s eyes widened in realization as he saw what he was doing and instantly pulled back his arm, retreating as if he had just touched an open flame.

Much to his embarrassment however, the action did not go unnoticed by Eivor, and the younger man quickly leaned closer to his brother, feeling the need to console him.

“It’s okay, Sigurd.” He reassured gently. “You don’t have to return my feelings for you.”

The older man furrowed his brow in deep thought, clearly conflicted about the situation.

“But... I do.” He blurted out, stumbling over his words. “I mean-- I think I... what I’m trying to say is--”

Sigurd let out a deep sigh, his head drooping in frustration.

“By the gods...” he murmured, dragging a hand down his face, “do you have any idea the effect you have on the minds of men, Eivor?”

The blond man giggled warmly, trying not to laugh too much. “I think I have a pretty good idea.”

Sigurd turned to face Eivor, his head spinning with a plethora of emotions. He hadn’t even realized it until tonight, but a part of him seemed to share the man’s love for him. He wasn’t entirely certain what type of love it was just yet, or if he would be able to act on it, but even he couldn’t deny that there was definitely a spark between them; a flame that had been stifled for far too long.

And it frightened him to the core to think about it.

“Listen, Eivor,” Sigurd said, his tone more serious now, “...I don’t know what I’m feeling right now, or what this is. I don’t even know if these emotions are genuine, or if they’re just a result of too much mead, but...”

He slowly brought a hand up to Eivor’s cheek, gently holding him in place as he voiced his thoughts. “I think... I could love you, too.”

Eivor’s heart fluttered with happiness upon hearing that, but in spite of the joy it brought him, he could still see that Sigurd wasn’t quite ready to come to terms with his newfound love. So, with a delicate touch, Eivor lowered his brother’s hand from his cheek and held it between them, gazing into the man’s eyes.

“It’s alright if you need more time to think about this, Sigurd. There’s no need to rush into it. I understand it’s... a lot to process.”

Eivor brought his face closer to Sigurd’s, speaking softly in his ear. “But when you’re ready -- if your thoughts bring you back to me -- I’ll be here.”

He placed a small kiss on Sigurd’s cheek, causing the other man to smile warmly as he continued to keep Eivor’s hand in his grasp.

“Thank you, Eivor.” He whispered affectionately. “You were always there for me.”

The younger man reached into his pocket and pulled out the object he had been fidgeting with earlier, revealing the same arm ring that his father instructed him to give Styrbjorn on the night of Kjotve’s attack.

“And I always will be, even if you don’t return my love.”

Taking the arm ring from Eivor, Sigurd held it securely in his grip as the two of them fell into a comforting silence and quietly enjoyed the serenity of the nature around them, leaning against one another on the pier.

At this point in the night, the aurora in the sky had become a series of aqua-colored waves that soared gently across the stars like water on a shore, painting the environment with an icy tint. 

There were streaks of magenta fading in and out of view as they elegantly clung onto the ripples of blue light gliding through the air, and the longer Eivor gazed into their radiance, the more he found himself melting into Sigurd’s strong embrace.

Even though there was no guarantee that the man’s feelings for him would be mutual, or that he would be willing to put his thoughts into action, Eivor was still grateful that he finally opened up to him.

For years, the pain of feeling ignored and unloved had rotted his soul, and as the days went by, he found it harder and harder to conceal his true emotions. He had grown careless and ill-tempered from having to constantly suppress his jealousy of Ranvdi, and he nearly got his entire crew killed by Kjotve because of it.

But now that Sigurd was aware of his love, Eivor felt a new sense of peace settling into his heart.

There was still a chance that he wouldn’t get the outcome he wanted -- and he knew not what the Nornir had planned for him -- but even then, he was certain now that he could always trust Sigurd with his thoughts, no matter how daunting they may’ve been. 

That man would never judge him, or love him any less because of who he was. He would always be there to help guide him, and offer him sanctuary in a world that was so full of cruelty.

Sigurd was the true love of Eivor’s life, and it would always be that way. 

From here to Valhalla.

#sigurd x male eivor #assassin's creed valhalla #ac valhalla #ac valhalla fanfic #sigurd styrbjornson #eivor wolfsmal #eivor wolfkissed

[bloodyshadow1]

Beaujester week 2020 Day 3 Dance

    Jester was bored and disappointed.  When they, The Mighty Nein, received word that the Empire was holding a royal ball in celebration of the war with the Dynasty coming to a quick close, she had been excited.  She had been extra excited when she found out that they were going to be on the guest list due to their efforts to push for peace.  She thought it would be nice to be at a big party where there would be nice music, fancy people in fancy clothes, expensive food, it was supposed to be something out of a fairytale.  

    The others weren’t into it, at least not as much as Jester.  Veth seemed okay with the fancy food, but regretted that she couldn’t bring Yeza, the Empire still believed he was either dead or a Dynasty prisoner, she couldn’t afford to reveal him.  Caduceus was optimistic, at least he seemed to be okay with going, to him it was just another party like the one in Nicodranas.  Fjord was cautious, he didn’t think it would be great for all of them to go since they tend to be embarrassments, but his opinion didn’t really matter.  Caleb was being cautious too, both a bit too much and a bit too little, like he normally was when it came to the Assembly and their wizards.  Yasha seemed ambivalent, she didn’t mind but crowds would make her uncomfortable. 

Beau…, Beau seemed the most against going,  Jester understood why, Beau didn’t like fancy clothes or expensive food, she had grown up a rich girl in a big house and hated every moment of it.  Jester was glad that she got Beau the suit that she seems to love to wear instead of a dress.  She looked nice, really pretty, in Jester’s red dress, but she didn’t look right.  In the suit that Jester bought her though, she looked amazing, pretty and handsome…, it didn’t matter.  Still, as a member of the Cobalt Soul Beau had to be present in case anything was said or she could overhear anything that the Soul would require.  Yudala Fon would be there as the High Curator of the Rexentrum branch of the Soul, but they would be watched fair more intently by the Cerberus Assembly or other powers in the Empire who saw the Soul as a threat.  Beauregard as a younger member who wasn’t wearing the raiments of the Soul, it would be easier for to move among the crowd unnoticed.  

It wasn’t fair to Beau, but Jester was happy that they were going to the ball held by the King.  At least she had been, now that they’re here, it was so boring.  They split up once they got inside which wasn’t so bad since it was the plan, Caleb went off with Veth, with Fjord and Caduceus nearby to intercept any wizards who might try to corner him.  Jester went off with Yasha and Beau, but they got separated in the crowds.  It was easy to see Yasha who was a head taller than most of the guests that were invited, and her size made them part like water before her.  Despite her trepidation, Beau managed to blend in with the crowd better than anyone in the group.

The people were so boring, they were all dressed in clothes worth thousands of gold and they were mostly boring.  Men in suits or robes, women in the newest fashions that they could afford, that left them all looking pretty much the same.  The food was okay, it was definitely expensive, but nothing like the spread at the party thrown in Nicodranas before the war.  The music was okay too, if Jester was being charitable, it was a couple musicians playing classical Dwendalian music.  There were no vocals, not that there was a way to compete with the Ruby of the Sea, but it was very plain classic songs.  There were people dancing, but it was the boring kind of dancing that was slow and none of the couples looked all that happy with their partner.  

Jester was quickly set upon by a few men who seemed eager to spend time with the exotic looking blue woman in the outlandish dress.  Currently she was dancing with a young man who was taller than her with sandy blond hair, Someone Something who was the Son of Someoneelse who owned land Somewhere.  He had said it a few times when he introduced himself, apparently his family was one of the wealthiest and most powerful amongst Jester’s would be suitors so the rest backed off for now so Jester couldn’t even use one of them as an excuse.  

“You truly have the most wonderful eyes Ms. Jester,” he said with his eyes looking far more south than her eyes.  

“Thank you,” Jester tried to say as nicely as she could.  He had been at least slightly charming and good looking enough at first and Jester had always wanted to dance at a fancy ball like this so she had agreed to a dance.  Three dances later,  his leery eye and braggadocious attitude had gotten old, and this was their forth dance together.  “For the compliment and the dance, unfortunately I have something I must attend to,” she said curtsying and before turning away.

“Oh come now,” The man said, grabbing her wrist to stop her, “one more dance.”

“I’m sorry,” Jester said evenly, she could tell the man was trying to show off how strong he was with the wrist grabbing.  “But unfortunately, like I said I have things to do so I need to leave.”

“I don’t think you understand,” the man said, his faux charming tone dropped, “I have decided that a lovely woman like you is just what I need to make this night entertaining and I always get what I want.”  The grip he had on Jester’s wrist tightened, to make his point.

This man might be a threat to other young women, but Jester had faced far more dangerous men and monsters.  A spoiled brat that couldn’t take a no, that was the reason why she had to leave Nicodranas in the first place, she wasn’t afraid of him.  “I understand perfectly,” Jester said, easily breaking the angry man’s grip with her deceptive strength, shocking the man.  “You are a spoiled brat and very rude.  I agreed to dance with you and I have, now I am done because I don’t want to dance with you anymore.  You’re making a scene and I am not going to humor you any longer.”

The man’s face turned red, then purple, as Jester told him off he looked ready to shout at her but before he could Jester was interrupted.  “There you are my dear,” Beau came striding over as if she was some puffed up noble, “I know you enjoy dancing with the menfolk, but really I think you’ve spent enough time teasing,” she said and offered Jester a hand away.

For a moment Jester could stare at Beau, looking so beautiful in her suit, coming over to rescue her like a knight in shining armor from the stories.  But it was the way Beau looked at her that made Jester feel warm, her big blue eyes burned with a desire to protect Jester.  It didn’t matter if Jester could have handled things, Jester was just glad Beau came to help her.  With a giggle and a curtsy Jester took Beau’s hand. “I’m sorry my love,” she said playing along, “but I wouldn’t have to spend as much time teasing if you would just dance with me.  It’s not my fault I have to seek out other forms of entertainment while you indulge in the buffet.��

“Excuse me,” the young man Jester was dancing with said interrupting them, “I was talking to her.”

Beau gave the man child a haughty look up and down, and laughed at him, “and now I’m talking to her, and I’m much more important than you are so go away.”

“I’ll have you know I can -,”

“Can what,” Beau cut him off.  “Can get into a fight with your betters and humiliate your family, to the point where your father puts you aside for one of your numerous bastard siblings?  Go away, you’re not worth it when I have my sweet to talk to.”

For a moment the man seemed like he wanted to say something, but while Jester, for all her power looked sweet and innocent. Beau, with her face covered in scars and hard eyes didn’t.  “You haven’t heard the last of me,” he shouted with his tail between his legs.

“Now that that’s over,” Beau said, “you want to dance,” she asked the other woman at the other end of her arm as Beau of the Mighty Nein, her best friend, her roommate, her something more. 

“Yeah,” Jester said smiling, she wanted to dance with her monk in a sharp suit.

This is late, and I’ll admit the ending wasn’t my favorite, but it’s already late and I made the mistake of going into the Beaujester tag for inspiration, but while there were good art and stories, there are so many assholes in the tag bitching and moaning about how their ship is better than others and garbage like that.  That much negativity just sucks the creativity out of me. Still, I did my best to push through and finish this. I hope you enjoy it

#beaujester #beaujester week 2020 #beaujesterweek2020 #critical role #the mighty nein #sappheau #beauregard lionett #jester lavorre

[mapleandgingeroatmeal]

CR2E78-Between the Lines

Skipping the previous ep reactions so I don’t get too behind myself, but I’ll probably return to it someday, it was very good. So, 78:

Jester’s entire little internal arc thats happening with the gentlemen is interesting, but somehow it’s triggering my second-hand embarrassment cringe humor hatred so hard that I can barely watch it. If she ever does dress up as her mom I might literally skip that part and just go read a summary. 

I love how Marion is like this weird schrodinger's-mama bear. Is she actually really intimidating everyone into keeping Jester safe? Or is she joking? The world may never know. Also I want to know of she and Yeza are becoming besties or not. Seems like they should be bonding over constant worrying about the Nein’s safety.

Matts npcs are so compelling that it’s almost a shame sometimes: The fact that we are limited to the pc’s pov means that we probably won’t get too much light shone on some potentially great relationships/stories like that one.

One of the best things about time-passage mechanics in DnD is that it creates these canonical long stretches of time that the characters are traveling together but we don’t know what happens. It creates just the perfect built-in places for writing fic and adding scenes and things. Think about it, 13 days from nicodranas to zedash leaves so much time for adventures!

Fjord and Nott continue to have the best Sibling Energy, second only to Caleb and Beau. Specifically this moment feels even more sibling-y than past times that they’ve playfully sniped at each other, because Fjord physically picked her up, and she only jokingly freaked out. That shows a lot of trust on Nott’s part, and a lot of comfort with closeness on Fjords, and both of those are things we’ve seen these characters struggle with

Thoreau! He sounds so normal, I expected something more haughty I guess. It was also interesting to know that this guy is ambitious New Money, but in hindsight I guess it explains part of why there was so much legacy-type pressure on Beau.

Beau being proud to have a reputation is so sweet! Just let this woman have some positive feedback and validation, please. It’s all I want. Also the stuff with the cobalt soul was just all-around very sad. Poor Yasha. 

Am I evil to say I almost want Yasha to loose her memories of this time in her life again when the Nein reclaim her? I trust them to tell her the important stuff, and besides that the feelings of having done all that stuff would be enough to destroy a person.

Oh No, Beau’s reputation! The libraries! God this whole little segment I was just dying. It’s incredible how the Nein toe this line of slowly gaining respect and a reputation with all these Institutionalized Authorities without ever loosing any of their chaotic asshole vibes. They just keep falling ass-backwards into legitimacy without actually respecting anything or anyone ever.

#critical role #cr2e78 #cr catch-up

[vannminner]

-

Where Magic Flows

-

A03

FanFiction

 -

Part Two: Of the Water (XI)

-

 She awoke warmer than she had in a long while. It reminded Elsa of winter evenings when her bedroom fireplace had been forcibly lit. Yet, this wasn’t quite the same. It was a surprising warmth, stemming from the steady pressure applied to her abdomen. It roused her from sleep; a deep sleep.  

Driven curious, Elsa opened her eyes. She looked down, but her head held in place. Something had braced itself under her chin and tickled at her nose. She looked to the side. Tangles of brown hair splayed out across her chest and pillow, masking her view and blending with her own. 

Honeymaren had evidently stayed the night. Knowing she needed the comfort of a friend, and quite appreciating the closeness herself, Elsa didn’t mind. In fact, she enjoyed it. Elsa felt giddied by this new warmth, and considered she might not be as cold as she always believed she was. 

During the night, Elsa had remained impossibly still. Subconsciously, she must have believed moving would jar Honeymaren from sleep. Instead, Elsa’s arms had wrapped around her. Her hand caught protectively at Honeymaren’s waist, and the second ran the length of her back. 

Honeymaren, however, must have spent the whole night tossing and turning. She rotated completely onto her side and buried her face into Elsa’s neck. Her right leg stretched, pining Elsa’s knees to the mattress. Even Honeymaren’s hands grappled on desperately. Like a leetch, she secured each part of her to Elsa, seemingly afraid she might leave her while she slept. 

Elsa wondered if she should feel embarrassed by their predicament. She certainly didn’t feel that way. She felt calm and sedated by the warmth surrounding her, but Elsa was also cautious. She considered how it would feel to be caught in this manner, by her sister or someone in the village. Was it appropriate for Honeymaren to be here with her? Were they breaking some unspoken rule for conduct by engaging in closeness? In that moment, Elsa wasn’t the only one thinking this. As Honeymaren stirred beside her, she quickly retracted herself from Elsa’s arms with a swift tug.

“Gah!” she nearly shouted. She sat up straight, eyes wild with concern. “I am so sorry!”

Rising to follow, Elsa shrugged. “It’s alright. I told you to stay... You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“I know, but,” Honeymaren paused, blushing madly. “I never meant to fall asleep here! You were being so kind to me, and I would never want to take advantage, and- I’m sorry!” 

Elsa giggled. “Aren’t I always kind to you? Besides, like I said, it’s really okay…”

Despite the subtle upward movement of Elsa’s brow, Honeymaren didn’t appear convinced. Her eyes trailed over Elsa’s face. She began to sweat. With her gaze flickering between the bed and the door, Honeymaren tilted her head. 

Her expression brightened noticeably. A laxidasical smirk tugged at her lips and she stood. Honeymaren said nothing as she moved toward the door. Humor bloomed behind her eyes, and she turned back to Elsa. 

“You like me.” Honeymaren smiled. Hand caressing the tarp, her shoulder pulled into her ear. A small giggle escaped her throat and she quickly left the hut.

- 

“Mercury?” The word left Anna’s lips with ease. She felt it rolling awkwardly over her tongue. 

Standing beside her was Doctor Laugen and Mattias. They stood at the edge of the dock, overlooking the fjord. The doctor handed Anna a small vial from his pocket. Squinting, she lowered her eyes to the silver liquid behind the glass and frowned. 

“It was discovered along the shore by one of our merchants, your majesty.” Mattias explained. “It appears to have spread two kilometers south of the town.”

Anna blinked. She turned to Doctor Laugen. “You believe this to be the culprit behind the illness? It looks harmless!” 

Seeing her face scrunch in confusion, Doctor Laugen’s eyes lifted. “When this discovery was brought to my attention, I had to go back to my books. I remembered reading about mercury during my study years at the academy. It was used in ancient Chinese medical practices as an attempt to aid in the healing of epidermis infections. That was, until they learned of the long term health effects it caused. Patients treated with mercury began developing stomach sickness. In extreme cases, patients died. You see, what mercury does is it builds up in our bodies. During prolonged exposure, it poisons and breaks down the different organ systems that allow us to function.

“The reason mercury has affected the children so drastically is because their young age and manner of digestion. It has made them vulnerable to immediate illness. It’s summer. They’ve been playing in, and drinking from the fjord. Their underdeveloped nervous system is weak to the poisonous nature of mercury. Overtime, the adults would have been at risk for the same decline in health. The longer we ate from our fish supply and drank the infected waters, we would have fallen ill as well; and with no known way of counteracting it.”

Shaking the vial, Anna’s frown deepened. “I don’t understand. How does this amount of mercury end up in our water supply? Has it always been there? Were we at risk of poisoning all along- my sister never said…”

“This is difficult for me to answer because mercury is a naturally occurring element. It derives from an ore called cinnabar, found in tropical climates and deep-well mines. However, because both cinnabar and mercury are highly coveted exports, I imagine large shipments of ores navigate through our trade routes on a monthly basis.”

Anna’s expression only continued to darken. “What you’re saying is, this whole ordeal could have been as simple as an overturned shipping vessel?”

Taking a deep breath, Doctor Laugen’s hands turned at his sides. “Again… difficult. Cinnabar must be mined in order to extract the mercury, and to produce the levels we are seeing in our fjord- that would require multiple overturned vessels. Or-” he paused. His face flickered cautiously. “-or this would have required a strategic exploit of our waterways.”

Anna hummed. “Many ships, dumping many supplies…”  

Nodding, Doctor Laugen watched her eyes pull back toward the vial. Anna’s nail tapped against the glass and she sighed once more. 

“Where do we go from here, then?” She asked. Her attention returned. “ I’m aware it falls to me to locate our culprit still, and to lead the motion to make amends, but what do we do about the fjord? How do we protect ourselves from being poisoned?”

“Really, it’s as simple as finding an uncontaminated supply, and it is as complex as flooding the fjord with fresh water to dilute the mercury concentration. Neither is without caution, of course, and constant testing efforts, but it is reversible. Until then, we will have to be diligent about avoiding drinking and eating from the fjord.”

Biting her lip, Anna’s shoulders drew to her ears. “This will create complications amongst the markets. We will have to direct all fishing efforts out to sea.”

“We will put more men on ships to assist.” Mattias suggested. “If we double our fishing efforts we will still be able to meet our winter stock quota.”

Anna returned the vial to Doctor Laugen before burying her hands in the fold of her dress. “The Royal Guard will address the fish supply. I will meet with the counsel and report to the village, and Doctor Laugen, if you could, see to it that your apprentices locate trainees for water maintenance. With those efforts, we will be off to a good start.”

“Of course,” The doctor nodded. “I will put together a team of our best scientists from the area. I will teach them what they need to know and put them in charge of conservation.”

WIth her lips pursed, Anna lowered her eyes. “Good,” Her chin jerked downward sharply. “Let’s get this behind us, and I will worry about finding out how and why it happened in the first place.”

-

“We will be relocating South of the forest entrance.” 

Standing before her people, Yelena addressed them calmly. Her hands wrung patiently at her waist, and her wide eyes scanned the crowd. 

She waited for their chatter to die down before continuing. 

“It would be foolish to wait for the final leg of this revolt before making moves toward safety. Having said this, it is in our best interest to seek refuge beyond the borders of our home. Graciously, Elsa has offered up her palace in the North Mountain for our people to recollect, while we plan how to take back our lands.”

As she finished, the villagers' commentary surfaced all at once. Confusion stuck their faces and their words scrambled over each other’s.

“But when will we be leaving?” “What of our supplies?” “When will we return?”

Batting her hands, Yelena silenced them.

“We will be leaving before mid-day. I suggest everyone partakes in breakfast, and collects any necessity that will ensure our survival for at least two remote weeks.”

“Yelena, Yelena!” Their voices barreled together once more. 

“Yelena, what about the reindeer?” It was Ryder. He was frowning as he hobbled forward against his crutch.

Stifling a sigh, Yelena turned to the herders. “We will drive the reindeer to the northern border, but that is as far as we can take them. As I understand it, the mountain impasse is too narrow. The deer would not be expected to survive the trip.” 

As the questions continued, Honeymaren pulled Elsa aside. “You knew about this?” she frowned. “-last night, you knew about this, but you didn’t say anything to me?”

Her tone was flat, but showed no indication that she was angry. 

“It didn’t come up. We had other matters to discuss, and I knew it would not change the outcome…”

Honeymaren’s hands pulled under her arms. A spike of anxiety shot through her spine. She had never left the forest before. 

“I do want you to know, though, I will not be going with you.” When Elsa continued, Honeymaren’s gaze turned wide. “I told Yelena this morning that I intend to stay in the forest. I must be here to protect our home after the last of our magic fades. Perhaps once our defenses are down, our culprit will finally show its face...”

Honeymaren shook her head. “Are you crazy?” she balked. “You can’t take on the Nokk by yourself! It’s not safe, and it’s insane for you to stand in harm's way because you believe there’s a small chance you might find an answer!”

Pulling in a deep breath, Elsa kept her emotioned reined in. “I tamed the Nokk on my own. He is no match for my powers.”

“Yeah, except it was only yesterday you told me that your powers were failing! May I remind you of that? What if Nokk rebels and you find yourself without the ability to counter his attack? You would plan to sacrifice yourself all because of a theory that whoever is behind this is waiting until the spirits fall before attacking us?”

Elsa reached to take her hand, but Honeymaren stepped back out of reach. “I’m sorry." she replied with a snap. "-but there is nothing you can say that will change my mind. I will be staying here with or without your support.”

“And what does Yelena have to say about you risking your life for us?” she hummed. “I can hardly see her agreeing to something as idiotic as this plan!”

She folded her arms. Elsa’s eyes lowered sharply. “She is not thrilled about it, but she knows that it is pointless to try and convince me otherwise.”

“If you do this, I am staying with you!”

It felt wrong to smile, but Elsa couldn’t help it. Honeymaren sounded so much like Anna at that moment; wanting to throw everything aside to help her. The sentiment had Elsa feeling warm with affection.

“You know I would never allow that to happen.” she whispered. “No sooner than I would decide to leave, would I permit you to stay behind with me.”

Honeymaren fell silent. Her attention dropped to her feet. Agitated, tight fists drew to her sides and she scoffed as she kicked at the dirt. 

“You will be traveling to a secluded mountain; the location of a home I built for myself when I had nowhere else to turn.” Elsa explained. “It is well-hidden, and you will be safe there, and that is exactly how I would like for you to remain.”

She stood there for a long moment. Honeymaren’s face was stern and her eyes flickered while her mind drew quickly between thoughts. Finally, feeling her anger spike, she stomped away. 

Elsa painfully watched her go, forcing herself to believe that at the end of the day this would all be for the best. 

 - 

Within the hour, the Northuldra village was packed for their departure. Elsa meant to see them off, but she found herself walking away when the herders set out with the reindeer. It was more upsetting than she anticipated; to watch her family leave the forest. The sense of guilt that came with it was devastating, and Elsa couldn’t help but blame herself. 

When Honeymaren drew her bag to her shoulder, she turned her head to find Elsa. Her friend was nowhere to be seen. Angry or not, her disappearance stung. Part of her wondered if she would ever see Elsa again, and now Honeymaren had been robbed of that final opportunity to do so.

She was made to hold back tears as the village moved forward. Her nails dug into her palm, and she struggled for a deep breath. Honeymaren’s eyes directed to the South. She took up the rear of the group, and forced herself follow as her people began heading... into the unknown. 

A mile North, Elsa was seated on the bank of the Dark Sea. Her eyes glued to the horizon, leading out to Ahtohallan. 

Nokk was stationed calmly at her side. He brayed into her open hand, nuzzling Elsa softly. 

She knew he’d turn soon. It was only a matter of time, but he had come to her on his own. While she softly cried against the shore, Nokk conjured up from the sea. Allowing her fingers to drift over his cool form, Elsa wanted to savor the moment.

In a matter of a few weeks, she had lost the earth giants, Bruni, and Gale; her most treasured friends. Elsa was on the brink of losing Nokk now, too, and she wanted the peace of knowing she would get to say goodbye. 

“If I may ask you for one favor,” Elsa turned to him. “-please, try and fight this.

“Don’t leave me to care for Northuldra on my own. I need you at my side.” she pleaded. 

 -

Cheers,

-M.

#where magic flows #my writing #frozen 2 #elsamaren #elsa #honeymaren #frozen #frozen fanfiction #frozen 2 fanfiction #elsamaren fic

[thatsparrow]

Unsurprising that Beau is the one who finds him.

He's down in the tavern when she slides into the chair opposite, heels coming up to rest in his lap before she relieves him of the tankard in his hands.

"I was working on that, you know." He's spent enough time with Vandren's accent living in his throat that the sound of his own voice is almost unfamiliar. Like he's playacting still, even if the mask is different. "How'd you know I be here?"

Beau grins around the rim of the mug. "Maybe I didn't. Maybe I was just looking for a drink myself." 

A few tables over, a dwarven woman is arm-wrestling one of the few humans in Uthodurn; she'll have him beat and the coins between them in another moment more.

"So, Captain," Beau nudges him with her foot, toeing him just below his ribs. "What's on your mind?"

He takes his drink back from her, even though she's already emptied it to the last third. "You know you don't have to call me that anymore. We haven't been on a boat in months."

"Just because we're not at sea doesn't mean it isn't true."

He's grateful, then, that most of the tavern's lamps have burned low—saves him the embarrassment of Beau seeing his skin flush forest-green at the back of his neck. "It's—nothing, really."

She digs into his side with her toe again, insistent. "If it were nothing, you'd be upstairs sleeping with the rest of the boys. Speaking of—what do you all do, when there's only one bed to split? Jester's money is on spooning—like a big triple-spoon—but I think you'd all overheat pretty fast, so. Do you take turns on the mattress and draw straws for the floor?"

Fjord laughs, easy. Gods bless Beau. "Sorry to disappoint, but it's not a situation that's come up all that often."

"But you would all share, right? Come on—Caduceus is, like, built for cuddling." She grins at him again, then goes quiet for a moment. "Seriously, though, I don't mean to—I don't know—pressure you or whatever, if you're not up to talking. Or if you really were just looking for a quiet drink and I fucked that up from the start, but—" she looks at him, pointed, "—you'd tell us if you weren't okay, right, Fjord? Maybe not me, exactly, but Cad or Jester at least. Especially after—well."

There's a two-inch scar above his navel from where he'd driven the falchion into his stomach; he'd let Caduceus heal the wound, but asked him to leave that reminder. He drains the rest of the tankard, but the ale's already gone warm.

"I've been wondering," he starts, slow, "since—letting go of the falchion, of Uk'otoa, of all the burden and gifts that came with it, whether I'd really done it for the right reasons. Hadn't it been selfish, in a way? Self-centered of me, that I was so concerned with breaking Uk'otoa's hold that I'd let myself become a liability to you all. What if I'd put you all in danger? What if one of you fell trying to save my gods-damned useless skin?" Fjord laughs, all the humor leeched out of it. "I was so afraid of what Uk'otoa might or might not do to me that I lost all sense of perspective.

"Do you know the fear that I felt yesterday, Beau? Watching that thing take Jester, and then you, and then Caduceus? I used to be able to—to summon demons and make the earth tremble under my feet." For a moment, he'd swear he could feel the phantom weight of the falchion in his hand. "What if those abilities had proved to be the difference between your life and death? What if Jester—what if she'd—" he takes a breath, holds it in his lungs like Vandren had taught him until he's ready to let it out slow. "I've never been so afraid, Beau. Not even when we were up against the Laughing Hand, and I came far closer to dying then.

"But—even for all the guilt and the fear, when the moment came, I wasn't a liability after all. I wasn't—useless. No, perhaps I wasn't inflicting the same level of damage I'd grown used to—didn't manage to do much other than nearly dislocating both my fucking shoulders—but I helped. I did something right. Nobody died that day because of me."

"Better than that, you saved my life." There's a comfort in the way Beau is looking at him, a weight he feels like he could wrap around his shoulders, could keep himself warm with. "You're never going to be a liability, Fjord, because that's not who you are. No—you're the dumb motherfucker who squares up against a thirty-foot worm with a fucking whip because he doesn't have enough sense to save his own skin when his friends are in danger." She nudges him again with her foot. Whether intentionally or not, her toes press in against the vertical line of his scar. "We'll tell it to you as often as you need to hear it—you're not weak, Fjord. With or without Uk'otoa's powers."

Funny, that she was a stranger to him once and now she's nearly got him tearing up in some tavern halfway across the world. "Thank you, Beau. Truly. But for as much as I appreciate that, I think I’d still needed to prove it to myself, before I could really believe it."

"And do you, now?"

The glass is empty, but he'll raise a toast to her anyway. "You know, I think I do."

#fjord's character arc? trav is Crushin it #brjeaus #critical role #critical role spoilers #fjord #beauregard #critter fic #my fic

[dracoqueen22]

[CR] Bloodlines 03

Universe: Critical Role, Campaign Two, Alternate Universe, Bloodlines Characters: Fjord, Mollymauk Tealeaf, Jester Lavorre, Caduceus Clay, The Fletching and Moondrop Circus Rated: K+ Description: A simple twist of fate and betrayal lands Fjord in the path of the good ship Moondrop and her crew of traveling circusfolk, including one Mollymauk Tealeaf. Between Jester and Toya, it's hard to say who shines the brightest aboard the Fletching. Toya's youth gives her an edge, but Jester's perpetual cheer is simultaneously infectious and hard to beat. They're both impossible to hate. Which is why Molly finds it frustrating to watch Jester flirt with their new crewmate, and only feel the urge to cheer her on. May the best tiefling win or some such. Though he gets the feeling Jester's not opposed to sharing.

Fjord, for his part, has spent most of the morning getting a lesson in navigation from Ornna. Better him than Molly. She'd tried to teach him once, but Molly had been less than interested, and anyway, he preferred his navigational instincts rather than the math involved with stars and positioning. Fjord, apparently, seems to have something of a knack for it. Good for him. But now Ornna's sent him on his way, only for Fjord to be intercepted by Jester, and just like everyone else on the ship, Fjord can't turn her away. "Fjord!" she calls, singsong and cheerful, skipping up to him, her cheeks flush and her hair wild around her face. It's a windy day, and the lot of them are tousled with it and seaspray. "Let me give you a tattoo!" "What?" Fjord asks, clearly flustered, and Molly supposes he can't blame him. Jester can be a lot to take in at first. Sometimes forgets the conversations she's having in her head, aren't the same ones she's having aloud. "A tattoo!" Jester beams and tucks her hands behind her back. She circles Fjord as if assessing the best landscape for her artistic talents. "I'm really good at them. I promise. I did some of Molly's you know." "You did?" "Yep." Molly, watching from afar -- a deck higher to be precise -- touches the nape of his neck, where the pyramid she'd done for him sits. She'd been so excited to practice her craft, and Molly had no problem letting her try. She could be very convincing. "Ah, well, that's nice of you to offer," Fjord drawls, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, finding everywhere interesting to look at but Jester's face. "And it's not that I don't believe you, I just don't want a tattoo right now, if that's all right." Jester's face falls, but only for a moment, before it's washed away in another blinding smile. "Aww, that's okay. Let me know if you change your mind, okay? You won't regret it." "I'm sure I won't." "Shouldn't you be working?" Molly startles and swallows the urge to leap back into his duties. It's only Yasha, after all, not Bosun or Gustav. His tail swishes, agitated. "I'm on a break," Molly says as Yasha steps up beside him, leaning on the rail and following his gaze with a tilt of her head. The corner of Yasha's mouth curves into the smallest of smiles. "You're always on a break," she says, completely deadpan, and Molly thinks he might be the only one who really sees how humorous she is beneath the surface. "Good point." Molly watches Jester grab Fjord's hand and tow him somewhere, something she does with ease given that she's freakishly strong. Fjord stumbles after her, token protests falling from his lips, but he looks more charmed than annoyed. Molly doesn't know if it's Jester or the heat which has Fjord so flushed. Maybe both. "You were up early," Yasha says, the kind of way someone says 'the sky is cloudy today' or 'there's salt in the ocean'. It's a statement of fact, not really a question, but oh. There's definitely a question in it. "Mmm," Molly says, which is as much of an answer as Yasha's words had been a question. Yasha shifts, sword clanking against her back because she never goes without it, not even aboard the ship. "Tell me why?" The thing about Yasha is that she doesn't judge, and she doesn't push, and if he says 'no' she'll back off and she won't ask again. She doesn't offer advice or commentary unless it's obvious you want it, and no matter what Molly has or hasn't told her, he's yet to make her blink. She's a stable rock in an otherwise unstable landslide. Molly sighs and turns his back to the railing, hooking his elbows across it to keep his balance. There's no Fjord to watch anymore anyway. "Nightmare." "Something you remembered?" "No. More like..." Molly pauses, twisting his jaw, trying to find words for the formless black, the voice commanding him with single words, but not offering an explanation. "Something is trying to talk to me. But it's using the creepiest, most intimidating way to do it." Yasha chuckles quietly. "Sounds pretty normal to me." Molly rolls his eyes and pokes her in the shoulder. "Of course it does. You serve the Storm Lord." "Maybe it's a god then." "Maybe." Molly shrugs. Worshipping the gods isn't really something he's gotten behind since he woke up. He's fascinated by the idea of it, but the practice? Maybe not. Yasha clasps him on the shoulder and offers one of her patented smiles. “The answer will come to you when you need it, I’m sure.” She squeezes his shoulder before stepping back, restoring her usual personal boundaries. “What about you? What was up with last night?” "I think it was a test," Yasha says. "What kind of test is that?" Molly asks, because damn. If that's what it means to serve a god, maybe he's better off as he is. Yasha rolls her shoulders and cracks her knuckles. "I don't know. But I think I passed." She looks up, into the clear blue sky without a hint of the storm which had rocked their ship last night. "If I didn't, he'll probably let me know." Damn. "Between you and Jester, I don't know whose god is sketchiest." Molly doesn't trust that Traveler one bit, and finds his interest in Jester highly suspect. The Traveler is as suspicious as they come, which is saying a lot, since Mollymauk has no memory and makes his living as a member of a sea-faring circus. "He saved me, Molly." "Yeah, I know." Molly pushes off the railing, stretching his arms over his head. "Still don't trust him." Yasha chuckles. "I suppose from the outside it does look a little... wrong. But I do owe him my life, and so I'll pay him back however I can." "I just hope it's not a price you don't want to pay." Molly scrubs his hands down his face before he gives them a shake. "Anyway. Enough gloom and doom. We have work to do, don't we?" "Peeling potatoes with Caduceus, if I remember," Yasha reminds him. Mmm. Mr. Clay. It's a torment that they've put so many fine-looking and charming individuals all on this one ship. Molly enjoys time spent in Mr. Clay's company, if only because no matter how outrageous and flirtatious he gets, Clay takes it in stride. Just gives him that slow blink, that slow smile which makes Molly's toes curl, and says 'you're very entertaining, Mr. Tealeaf' and ahh, it's rewarding. "Nice of him to spell Desmond and cook for us," Molly says as he scratches the side of his cheek. "Guess I'd better go help." Yasha laughs, quiet as it is. "If you were any more eager, your tail would be wagging." Well. She's not wrong. ~ "How'd you end up on this ship anyway?" Fjord asks. Jester shrugs and peers harder at the torn sail. Maybe it'll be easier if she tries the cantrip the Traveler taught her, the mending one? "I kind of got in trouble," she says, and cuts the thick thread on her teeth before guiding it through the end of the needle. "I had to get away from home fast, and this was the only ship willing to take on a passenger who was in trouble." Fjord blinks at her. "What kind of trouble?" Jester laughs. "Well, I kind of played a prank, and even though I thought it was really funny, and everyone else did too, the other person didn't. And he was important, you know. So now if he sees me, he'll uh. Kill me." She shrugs again. "That sounds a little harsh." "You're telling me!" Jester exclaims, and curses when the end of the thread avoids the eye of the needle again. Stupid thing. Why had she volunteered to help with this? "So your plan is to stay on the ship?" "For now." Jester huffs and holds the needle out to Fjord. "Can you do this?" He takes it from her with a soft laugh and easily threads the thick thread. It’s unfair. She’s been struggling with that for at least five minutes. "Here you go." "How'd you get so good at that?" It's Fjord's turn to shrug, though a flush spreads across the bridge of his nose and his cheeks, darkening his skin. He ducks his head, hiding from her question. He's so handsome. Just like Jester imagines Oskar would be, though she’s got the feeling she can’t tell Fjord that. It’d just embarrass him. “It’s an important skill for survival,” Fjord says, bent over the piece of sail, focused on his stitching though his hands move in an easy, deft pattern that kind of reminds her of a wizard casting spells. “I was taught a lot of things like this as a kid.” Jester tilts her head. “Isn’t it easier to buy a new one?” That’s what she’d do, and that’s a lot of what they did at the Lavish Chateau. People expect a specific elegance from the Chateau, and having mended linens around didn’t really match their expectation. Fjord frowns, his forehead crinkling in a way that makes him seem older. “I don’t think it’s that easy, Jester.” He gestures to the sailcloth tarp, which is an amalgam of assorted colors and patterns, and a chaotic mess if you ask Jester. “If I had to guess, they’ve been patching this thing for years. Probably because it’s cheaper than replacing it.” “Oh. I guess you’re right.” Jester bends over the tear on her side of the sailcloth and tries to stitch it, just like Mama showed her. She’s not as good at it as Mama though. “Maybe I’ll buy them one as a gift.” “Are you going to stay with them?” Fjord’s stitches are so much neater than hers. Jester watches him for a long minute, trying to copy the movements of his hands and failing miserably. Drat. Maybe when she prays later, she can ask the Traveler to teach her how to be better at this. “Jester?” “Oh, sorry, I spaced out. Um. I don’t really know,” Jester says. She pauses, fiddling with a loose thread within reach. “I want to find my dad, and if staying on the ship makes that easier, then I will. Or maybe I should look on foot? I don’t know what’s better. I’m kind of new to this.” “This? You mean, ship-life?” Fjord asks. “No, I mean… um… life-life?” Jester’s not sure how to phrase it in a way that makes sense. “I didn’t get out much when I was little, so I don’t know the best way to do things. I know a lot,” she’s quick to correct because she doesn’t want Fjord to think she’s stupid, “but sometimes maybe not enough.” Fjord blinks at her. He cuts the thread with a talon and ties it into a neat knot. “You’re trying to find your dad? Do you know where he is?” “Nope!” Jester pops the word and grins, and jingle-jingle goes the bell she tied to the tip of her tail this morning. “Mama says he’s a dashing man, and he’s very brave and smart, but I don’t know where he is.” "Do you know his name?" "Yep. It's Babenon." Jester peers at Fjord, looking to see if there's any recognition in his face, and is disappointed to find blank curiosity. "Guess you haven't heard of him?" Fjord shakes his head. "Sorry, I haven't. Didn't get out much myself. We tended to keep to ourselves." "We?" Jester echoes and leans forward, eager for the tiniest tidbit of information about Fjord's past. "My clan," Fjord answers, distracted by his sewing and answering maybe more than he usually would. "We weren’t very big, and we stuck close to home to be safe, other than going into town for supplies. We knew better than to... uh..." He pauses and coughs into his hand. "Anyway, we didn't draw attention to ourselves." “Why not?” “We just didn’t.” Fjord ties off another thread and runs his finger over the stitch. “This should hold for awhile. I’ll get this to Bosun and see what they want me to do next.” He gathers up the repaired sailcloth and stands, a haphazard bundle of cloth in his arms. Jester knows a hamfisted escape when she sees one. “Okay, well if you need help with something else, you know where to find me,” Jester calls after him as Fjord nearly trips over the sailcloth in his haste to get away. At least he looks as good leaving as he does arriving. Sweet ass on that one. Jester whistles quietly, a small grin on her lips, and then she gets up and dusts off her dress. Time to find Caduceus and share the details. He’s as curious about their new arrival as she is, and they’ve made a secret pact to snoop. Of course, he’s much better at it than she is, but hah. He probably doesn’t know this! Score one for Jester. Oh, and the Traveler, too. ~ The days pass quicker than expected. Life aboard a seafaring vessel is never boring, and there is always work to be done. Patching and surveying and cleaning and cooking and peeling and navigating. Fjord learns a little bit of everything, and does a little bit of everything, tucked under the wing of every member of the crew, even Toya. Klyre is the only one Fjord never sees or interacts with. He spends most of the day asleep belowdeck, and only emerges at night, when he joins the crew for dinner. Family meals are apparently a Thing, and dinner the most sacred of them all. Dinner and music and dancing and practice. Lots of practice. Fjord is usually ushered to the other side of the ship when they are practicing their acts. Molly insists it's necessary, to maintain the mystery and the surprise. He's usually clustered with Caduceus and Jester, neither of whom are actually members of the crew, but help out as they see fit, to stave off boredom. "What're you going to do when we dock?" Fjord asks the firbolg as Caduceus sits cross-legged on the deck, a staff laying across his knees, and a small block of wood in his hands. Small shavings litter the deck around him. "I don't know yet," Caduceus says, and the act of not-knowing doesn't seem to bother him. He just hums to himself. "I've not been told." Fjord stares at him. "You haven't been told? By who?" "The Wildmother. She's guiding me toward the answers I need." "Caduceus' home is sick," Jester says as she leans over to watch Caduceus work with fascination in her eyes. "His whole family is out in the world, trying to fix it." "Sick how?" Jester shrugs. "We don't understand it. But there's a darkness. Something infecting the land." Caduceus' nose wrinkles, a comical sight on a firebolg. "It must be stopped." Caduceus is weird. Then again, everyone on this ship is weird in some way. Fjord likes to think he's the only normal one, but the full moon is in a week after all. It’ll hit after they dock, but a few days late, and he'll have his own weirdness to show. "Well, I hope you find an answer," Fjord says. "Me, too." Scraaaape goes the small knife and another curl of wood flutters to the deck. "What about you, Mr. Fjord?" He sits back, braces his hands behind him, and stares into the blue sky, the sun beating down on his face. The sails are full, and the flags ripple in the strong winds. "I don't know. I guess I'm waiting for someone to tell me, too." "You'll stay and watch the performance though, won't you?" Jester picks the shavings, gathering them up in her skirt. "I suppose I should," Fjord says. "It's only four copper a ticket," a voice says from above them. Fjord twists to look as Molly vaults over the railing and lands with a quiet tap-tap of bare feet beside Fjord and into a crouch. "But I might be able to swing you a discount." Jester frowns. "You said you'd get us in for free, Molly." Molly drops into a crouch, his tail twitching playfully behind him. "Did I? I don't remember." He grins cheekily, flashing those canines at Jester, who sticks her tongue out at him. "Shouldn't you be practicing?" Fjord asks. Molly grins. "And what do you think my act is, hm?" That's a fairly good question. Fjord has little idea what the other acts are. He knows Toya sings, and Desmond plays music. He hasn't a clue what the twins do, and suspects Ornna does something with fire, though he's not sure what. Yasha is a complete mystery to him. "Are you the one who tells the jokes?" Jester asks with a giggle. "No, that's Yasha. She's the charm." Molly plops down on his ass, curling his legs in lotus. He twists his wrists, flicks his fingers, and a deck of cards appears from nowhere. "These are where my talents lie." Fjord leans in. "What are they?" "Why, Fjord, have you never had your fortune told? What a sheltered life you must have led." His tail swings around and taps Fjord's shoulder. "Shall I give you a reading now?" Jester's eyes go wide and bright. "Oooo. Can I be next?" She waves one hand in the air, wood shavings spilling from her dress. She squeaks and tries to scoop them up. "Hm," Caduceus says. "Interesting." "Do you not believe in the cards, Mr. Clay?" Molly asks, but there's something sly in his tone and the way he tilts his head at the firbolg. Is he flirting? "I believe faith is a powerful thing, no matter what you have it in," Caduceus demurs. Very diplomatic of him. Fjord squeezes the back of his neck. "Uh, why don't ya let Jester give it a try first? She seems more excited than me." "If you insist," Molly says. "But only the first one's free. After that, you have to cough up the coin.” Jester laughs. "He doesn't have any coin, Molly." "There are other ways to pay, my dear." Molly winks lasciviously, and while Fjord's face flushes with heat, Jester laughs as if a salacious flirt doesn't bother her. Everyone here is so open about the things they do and don’t like. It’s a novelty to Fjord. It’s not that his clan was closed off, but their idea of affection shared was far more discreet, and every one had their mysteries, their reasons for speaking in riddles. Maybe that’s what led to their end. Jester scoots forward, until she’s sitting in front of Molly, who’s shuffling the deck with practiced ease, the colorful cards dancing through his fingers. “What are you wanting to ask today?” Molly asks as he flicks the cards from one hand to the other, his tail swaying cat-like, his blood-red eyes hauntingly focused on Jester. “Your future? Your path? Romance?” With this, his grin turns sly, and his eyes flick toward Fjord. He winks. Fjord flushes and wishes he had somewhere else to put his hands. “Hmm.” Jester taps her chin with one finger. “You know me, Molly. Tell me if my Oskar is out there waiting for me.” Molly chuckles and rests the deck of cards in front of Jester, face down. He taps the deck. “Cut the cards for me.” Jester all but wriggles as she obeys before Molly scoops up the deck. He hums a nonsense tune to himself and starts to pull out cards one by one, laying them in front of Jester, face down. There are nine of them, in three rows of three. “Alright,” Molly says as he sets the deck off to the side. He waves his hands over the spread. “Pick three. And choose wisely.” His words are sing-song, playful, but there’s intent in the way he watches both Jester and the cards. Jester nibbles on her bottom lip, looking torn. Fjord sneaks a glance at Caduceus, who busily works at the block of wood, but he’s watching the display with keen interest. Jester hovers over the cards before she picks the three right up the middle, drawing a line from herself to Molly, who grins at her. “Let’s see what the cards have to say,” he says, as he flips over the one closest to Jester first, revealing a woman kneeling next to a glittering lake, her skin a dusky red and a crown of black curls spilling from her head. She’s smiling as she kneels to scoop water with a plain, brown jug. “The Star.” Molly taps the shining beacon of light glowing above the woman’s head. “You have a good intuition, I see. A good instinct. You don’t fear to venture into the unknown, but you know well enough to keep your feet planted.” Jester’s eyes round. She leans forward, her elbows on her knees. "Yeah, that's me but what does it mean about my Oskar?" Molly chuckles. "I'm getting to that." He drops his voice, as if telling a secret. "Trust your instincts, Jester. You'll know him when you see him." Jester looses a little squeal of delight. "Can they tell me where?" "Let's find out." Molly flips the next card, revealing a handsome tiefling, dressed like a wizard, their gender indeterminate. They’re looking upward as seven jeweled cups dance above their head. “Hmm. The Seven of Cups, not a location, but a warning.” Jester’s lower lip wobbles. “What do you mean?” Fjord barely hides a snort. It sounds like bullshit. There’s no real information here. Molly’s telling Jester things she already knows, and the rest is vague enough to convince her something mystical is going on. “Well…” Molly sighs and casts her a look from under his eyelashes. “While you should trust your instincts, you need to be cautious, too. Don’t confuse wishful thinking with instinct.” He tilts his head with a wry grin. “Don’t fall for the first pretty face you see. People wear masks.” Jester squirms and makes a sad noise. “How am I supposed to tell the difference between what my gut is telling me and what’s not real?” Molly leans his chin on one fist, elbow balanced against a bent knee. “That’s a good question. I haven’t figured it out myself.” Jester’s lower lip juts out in a pout before she abruptly reaches for the remaining card. “What’s the last one say?” she asks as she flips it over and releases a giggle of delight. On it, two people embrace, the colors soft and intimate, lovely lines of scrollwork chasing each other around the frame. “The Lovers.” Molly sounds like the cat who caught the canary, his lips pulling wide into a grin. “It doesn’t mean what you think it means, but it’s still good news. You’ll find your Oskar in someone you trust completely, someone you feel comfortable around, someone who makes you feel safe and happy and brave enough to be yourself. They’ll love everything about you, from the tips of your horns to the tips of your feet.” Fjord doesn’t think he’s ever seen such a smile on Jester’s face. Her eyes sparkle. She lovingly strokes the card with a wistful, hopeful look. “Oskar’s out there somewhere,” she says. “That’s good enough for me.” She leans over the cards, disturbing them with the pleats of her skirt, and plants a sloppy kiss on Molly’s cheek. “Thanks, Molly. This was fun.” “It was enlightening,” Caduceus says as the little knife goes scrape-scrape-scrape and a visible shape takes form in the wood, something with a face and flowing hair. Molly gathers up the cards, but then he sneaks a sideways glance at Fjord. “What about you? Impressed or not? Awful silent over there, Fjord.” “It’s a fine skill you have,” Fjord says, trying to be diplomatic without disappointing Molly and wiping that smile from Jester’s face. She believes, and Fjord has no doubt the other people Molly swindled believed, too. Belief can be a powerful thing in the right circumstances. Fjord wonders if he believes strong enough, Vandren will still be alive. “I’m sure you make lots of coin,” Fjord finishes. Molly rolls his eyes, and Jester shakes her head. “That’s no fun at all,” she says, and starts digging around in her pouch. “Come on, Molly. Do a reading for him. I’ll bet he’ll change his mind once you answer one of his questions.” “No, really, that’s not--” “Save your coin, Jester.” Molly cuts off Fjord’s stammering protests. “If Fjord is truly interested, he can have a reading for free. Consider it a roommate’s privilege.” “Mollymauk!” Ornna’s bellow echoes across the ship, despite the splash of the water and the roar of the wind. Molly twitches and ducks his head, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He gathers up his cards, stuffing them in his pocket. “Coming!” he shouts, and Fjord cringes at the volume of his voice, even as he fights off a laugh. Sometimes, the whole crew reminds him of his clan, how they may not be blood-related, but they are family nonetheless, circling around their father-figure, deferent to their parental figures, teasing and poking at one another to gauge reactions, willing to step in and step up when duties call, surrounded by siblings of all shapes and sizes... A sharp ache echoes through Fjord’s chest. He sinks into himself, ducking his head, as Molly flounces off, answering Ornna’s call, shouting something back that’s a rush in Fjord’s ears. His home is ash and blood now. Did anything survive? Are their homes just burnt husks? Their main hall an ashy ruin? Did any of the others survive? Is Vandren dead? Did Avantika get what she want, whatever it is? He needs to find out. He almost doesn’t want to find out. Not knowing is better than knowing, in a way, because then he can still hope. “Fjord, are you all right?” Fjord blinks and summons a smile for Jester. He’s always been good at pretending. “I’m fine. Just thought I remembered something is all.” He climbs to his feet, dusts off his pants. “Think I’m going to go below deck, see what’s on the menu for lunch.” “Okay,” Jester gives him a worried glance, Caduceus a knowing one. If he stays with them too long, Fjord might not want to leave. So he escapes belowdeck to help Toya with lunch -- she practices after -- and tries not to think about what his future will bring. ~ “We’ll reach port tomorrow,” Molly says as they sit up in the Crow’s Nest. He’s looking over the distant horizon, dark night meeting the dark line of the ocean, his eyes glittering in the light of the moon. It’s a cloudless night, the sky speckled with countless stars. This high up, with the constant lurching sway of the ship, it almost feels like they’re flying. Fjord got a little motion-sick, at first, but he’d sniffed some bag of herbs Caduceus pressed into his hand, and the clench of his belly eased. That firbolg sure knows what he’s talking about. “Figured out what you’re going to do yet?” Molly asks. Fjord licks his lips, tastes the salt of the sea wind on them. “I’ll stick around for the show. Promise. I want to see what you all are keeping so secret.” Molly laughs, and it’s quiet and genuine, and it makes something warm build in Fjord’s belly. Like the comfort and the easy welcome the whole crew has given him from the beginning. “You’ll let me give you a reading?” Molly asks. “Depends on how much it’ll cost me,” Fjord says. Molly grins and toys with the collar of his shirt. “I’ll do it for free. Because you’re so cute.” Heat steals across Fjord’s cheeks and to the tips of his ears. Molly is an outrageous flirt, so he doesn’t take it to heart, but still. It’s nice to get a compliment anyway. "I ain't all that, but I appreciate you saying so anyway," Fjord says. He rubs the back of his neck and stares out at the sea. "You'll be glad to have your room to yourself again, I'll bet." "Mm. There are benefits to sharing." Molly toys with one of the dangling bits on his horns. "It was nice to have company. Your company as a matter of fact." “You said I snore,” Fjord points out. Molly laughs, loud enough for it carry to the deck below if anyone is listening. “You do. But I can get over that.” He leans against the rail, the wind rustling his hair, the starlight glinting off his jewelry. “I think you belong with us. Lost fae from the Faewild would be a good fit here.” He gives Fjord a pointed look. Fjord chuckles. “Nope. Not a fae.” “Damn. I’ll figure you out eventually.” Molly stretches his arms over his head, his tunic riding up, baring his belly and the thick, silvered line of a scar before the fabric drops down again. Fjord pretends he isn’t ogling. “You just might,” Fjord says, coughing into his hand. “Appreciate the offer, I really do, but I don’t think I’m gonna find my answers on the sea.” “Answers to what?” “To the reason you had to fish me out of the ocean,” Fjord hedges. “I think those answers are gonna be on land somewhere, and I gotta go back to where it started.” Molly hums in his throat, and his blood-red gaze focuses on Fjord, piercing enough to make him squirm. “I can’t fault you that. If I knew where it started, I’d go back, too.” He picks at his talons. “Was fun while it lasted.” “Yeah, it was.” There’s an ache in his heart Fjord can’t really explain. He’s only known these folk for a week or so, but they’ve all climbed under his skin. They remind him so much of his clan. If he didn’t think Avantika was still out there, if she didn’t need to pay for what she’s done, Fjord might have chosen to linger longer. Molly lightly slaps Fjord’s knee and abruptly stands. “Enough of this melancholy. Let’s go finish that bottle I swiped from Bosun.” “Why?” Fjord asks. Molly swings over the side of the Crow’s Nest as nimbly as an acrobat, and peers over the edge at Fjord with a wink. “Why not?” he chirps, and starts to descend with no trouble at all. Fjord is a lot less graceful about it. He misses his last step and lands with a clumsy thud onto the desk. He stumbles, but then Molly is there, grabbing his shoulders, steadying him. “Maybe you shouldn’t drink, eh? You seem a little unsteady already,” he says with a toothy grin, and a sparkle in his eyes. He’s beautiful, Fjord realizes in a flash, not that he hasn’t noticed before. There are far too many attractive people on this ship, but Molly is in a league of his own. “Guess I’m just not cut out to be a sailor,” Fjord says with a little, anxious laugh. Molly’s hands are still on his shoulders, and he’s not in any hurry to shake them off. “You just need practice,” Molly says. “Fjord! Molly! What’re you doing?” Jester’s voice cuts through the night, and Fjord coughs to clear his throat, pulling away from Molly and scrubbing the back of his neck. “Nearly breaking my neck it seems,” Fjord says as Jester’s head pops into view. She’s peering up at them from the lower deck. Some kind of white powder dusts her cheeks. “He exaggerates.” Molly hops down to Jester’s level, crouching near the open flap. “What’s up, buttercup?” Jester giggles and gives them a mischievous look. “Guess what Caduceus made?” “Mushroom soup?” Molly asks as Fjord climbs down toward them at a slower pace, using the ladder rather than hopping over the rail as Molly had done. “Not this time.” Jester’s voice is sing-song, her eyes bright, and Fjord would bet all the coin in his pocket, her tail is swishing back and forth. “He made, get this, cocoa and cookies.” She quiets her voice conspiratorially. “I’ve been looking all over for you two so you can have some, too.” “That’s mighty kind of you, Jester,” Fjord says as he finally catches up. She winks at him. “Much better than whatever gross liquor Molly was going to feed you, I promise. Come on! Or I’ll eat it all!” Her head vanishes as she drops belowdeck. “What do you say, Fjord?” Molly asks as he looks up at Fjord, grinning, his tail whipping out and smacking Fjord on the calf. “Liquor or cocoa?” “I think it would be rude to turn down her invitation, don’t you?” Fjord grabs the ladder and starts to descend, gripping the rungs tightly. “I mean, she looked so hard for us and all.” Molly laughs and cradles his chin in his palm. “And Deuces makes delicious cookies. Would be a shame to let her eat them all.” “My thoughts exactly.” Fjord steps off the last rung, and Molly drops down beside him, landing cat-like and with ease, his bare feet seemingly unbothered by the rough wood decking. Fjord can’t remember the last time he saw Molly wearing boots. Or has he? “We’ll save the bottle for another time,” Molly says, striding ahead of him, a happy bob to his steps, his tail flicking through the air like it’s inviting Fjord to follow. “Sure,” Fjord says, as his heart tries to pick up speed, and he tells himself to stop. Stop it now. He doesn’t have time for this. Molly’s just a friend. They join Caduceus and Jester in the galley, and Yasha’s there, too, already seated with her hands cupped around a thick mug, a bit of chocolate and crumbs at the corner of her mouth. Jester’s giggling as she tries to peer around Caduceus’ tall frame, her hands behind her back, maybe she’s been reprimanded already. Though it’s hard to imagine Caduceus using any kind of stern tone. “You can relax everyone. The fun has arrived,” Molly announces as he slides onto the bench beside Yasha and drapes himself against her side like a cat demanding affection. “Hello, my dear. Not on watch tonight?” “In a bit. I wanted some cocoa first,” Yasha says. “Here Fjord. Have some!” Jester appears at Fjord’s side, nudging him with a mug and holding out a plate covered in cookies. “Thanks, Jester.” He holds the mug and takes two cookies. He listens to the soft murmur of conversation and laughter, and the warmth of the galley. He sits at the table with Molly and Yasha, squeezed between Jester and Caduceus, and he munches on a cookie while he sips at the cocoa. It’s as surreal as it is comforting. The boat creaks. The galley is warm. Molly keeps catching his eye and winking, and Fjord flushes, hiding behind his cocoa and pretending to listen to Jester intently. Caduceus occasionally interjects with words of curious wisdom. Fjord doesn’t know what’s going to happen when they dock. Or what his future looks like anymore. But he thinks if it looks a little something like this, he’d be okay with it. At least for now. ****

#critical role fanfic #fjolly #mollymauk tealeaf #fjord #yasha nydoorin #jester lavorre #draco writes critical role #bloodlines series #bloodlines alternate universe

[howlingheartdemigod]

for beauyasha if you're still looking for prompts, Yasha is jealous of the women around Beau, maybe Dairon or Keg, or jester, or Cali, just whoever and doesn't know why

hell yeah

did you mean mutual pining with no resolution? :):):):):) no? :::))):::))):::))) oh well! ::::::::::))))))))))))):::::::::::))))))))))))))

Title from She by Dodie

lemongrass and sleep

Yasha wanted to hurt that pain in the ass Dwarf. She wanted to use her sword to smash her and her loud armor, and her stupid cigarettes, and her stubble, and her fuck, everything about her into the fucking ground. She hated Keg, she had decided, hours before when the dwarf had come stumbling her way into the bar they were in, only to be greeted with a warm reception from fucking everyone, but especially Beau.

Yasha turned her gaze from where she was glaring at Keg, talking to Beau and Nott at the bar, and glared into her drink instead. She wanted to stab something. She wanted to stab Keg, which, what a dumb name. She settled for twirling her knife into the table. She heard shuffling towards the table, and lifted her dark gaze, to see Fjord coming near, holding two drinks. He set one in front of her, keeping the other in his hand as he joined her at the table.

“Nice to have a friend back.” He said, shifting a little as he settled. “You were unconscious, but Keg is, pretty cool from the few hours I knew her.”

“Yes, I’ve been informed. Keg is the,” She sighed, waving a hand vaguely towards the bar “The greatest ever, sure, right.” Yasha picked up her drink, taking a long chug, emptying almost half of it. She looked back towards the bar, watching Beau lean back against the bar on her elbows, flexing, showing off. She swallowed, seeing Keg’s gaze look Beau up and down. Keg gave a little shrug, making an so-so gesture with her hand, then they all three started laughing.

Yasha turned away, staring down at the table, tapping her fingers. She looked up to Fjord, who was looking at her, a smug smile on his face.

She glared at him. “What?”

“I’ve never seen you like this.” He said. “Jealous is a new look on you.”

Yasha pulled back, blinking hard, head shaking. “I am not… That is… I have never… How do I know you...” Yasha looked back over to Beau, her heart twisting. She felt something well up in her, seeing Beau’s smile, seeing her lift a cup to her lips, seeing her shoulders lift in a chuckle, seeing her glance over and catch Yasha’s gaze. Yasha looked away, looked back to Fjord. “Oh no.” she muttered.

Fjord laughed a little quietly, then he looked over to the bar. “If it makes you feel better, from what I can tell they aren’t rekindling things. Just friends.”

“Rekindling?” She asked, feeling a little nauseous.

The humor left Fjords expression. “Oh.” He said, looking over to where Beau and Keg stood. “You… That’s… You were unconscious.” He said again, shuffling uncomfortably.

“So… they… That’s… Keg seems lovely.” Yasha said, picking her knife back up to twist into the table. “Just lovely.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you, Yasha.” Fjord said.

“I am not upset. I have no reason to be upset. Beauregard can fuck whoever she would like.” She said, waving a hand at him.

Fjord squinted. “You’re allowed to be upset. I thought you two were kind of.. making something happen.”

“I am married Fjord.”

Fjord took a breath through his nose, then looked back to her. “Remember what you said at her grave?” He asked. “You told us she came to you. You told us she wants you to be happy. Seems to me like you’re denying yourself that for no reason.”

This was all a lot to process. Too much to process. She pushed to her feet, the table rattling, from the force of it. There was a brief lapse in noise throughout the tavern, as people glanced at the tall woman, now towering over her table mate, before they slowly turned back to their own conversation partners.

“I am going to go to bed.” Yasha said, picking up the tankard. “Good night, Fjord.” She took a few seconds to chug the drink. “Thank you, for the ale.”

Fjord lifted a hand in goodbye, having the decency to look a little embarrassed for making her upset. “See you in the morning, Yasha, I hope.”

She gave a nod, and swallowed. “I will. I... Thank you. For the conversation.” She meant it, despite the turmoil it was causing. Fjord was looking out for her, in his own brash way.

Yasha headed off towards the stairs, feeling absolutely dizzy. She wasn’t sure if it was from the ale, or the series of realizations. She decided to believe it was the ale, and hoped it would go away by morning.

Beau watched Yasha run up the stairs, frowning a little.

“Sheesh.” The voice drew Beau’s gaze back to Keg. “What’s crawled up her ass.”

“Yasha gets kind of like that in groups, but she’s good company one on one.” Nott piped up, before taking a drink from her flask.

Beau shook her head, eyes back on the stairs. “That wasn’t normal sulking off, that was like… storming off.” She turned back to Keg and Nott, brow furrowed. “Not as common.”

Keg hummed, eyes scanning Beau’s face. Beau nearly recoiled from the intensity of the look. “You should hit that.”

Nott choked on her drink, Beau was sure she would have too if she’d had anything in her mouth. “Keg, that’s…” Beau sputtered. “First off, if you want to hook up again, don’t go telling me to try and hook up with someone else-”

“Beau, as good as you were, that would be verging on friends with benefits, not just a one night thing, which, I don’t do.”

“I need to walk away if you two are going to talk about fucking for an extended period of time. I am a married woman, I am… I am flustered, I have nothing to contribute.” Nott shook her head, skin tinged dark as she wandered away.

Keg snorted, then turned back to Beau. “I think you want to hit that.” She said, continuing regardless of Nott. “You look at her like you want to, yeah?”

Beau took a breath, looking past Keg. “It’s not that simple, Keg. Yasha…” Beau swallowed, thinking back to Xhorhas, thinking back to a shallow grave, thinking back to helping Yasha lay flowers across the rough dirt, thinking back to wanting to reach out, wanting to hold her hand, wanting to pull her close, wanting to comfort her, but stopping herself, because Yasha was married. Yasha had made a commitment. The sort Beau wasn’t at all capable of. “Yasha was… She’s married and her wife is dead.” Beau looked down into her drink. “Just don’t… Don’t bring it up, she doesn’t like to talk about it, but like…”

Keg nodded, letting out a little huff. “Fuck.” She said, nodding. “That’s rough. But if her wife is dead she isn’t married anymore, so…”

“Not like that Keg.” Beau said, head shaking. “She… It’s a for life kind of thing. I’m not a for life kind of person anyway.” Beau looked back towards the stairs, heart aching.

She felt Keg’s gaze shift to see the look on her face, felt Keg’s energy change, she looked over just as some kind of light clicked in Beau’s eyes. “Oh.” she said, nodding a little.

“What?” Beau scowled, feeling somewhat exposed with that knowing look on Keg’s face in front of a room full of people.

“You’re fucked, bro.” Keg said simply, shrugging. She took a drink, then set her cup aside, reaching to scratch as her beard, somewhat longer than the last time they talked. “I recognize it.”

“I’m not… Keg don’t be…” Beau swallowed. “Fuck, I thought I was doing a better job of hiding it.”

Keg snorted. “What’s the issue then? She really not interested?”

Beau shrugged, and nodded. “I mean, that’s a big part of it. She really was married. Her wife was, by all accounts, incredible, so she can’t be in another relationship, but beyond that… I couldn’t just… It couldn’t just be a one time thing. Not for me. So, on the off chance that’s all she wanted, I wouldn’t… It can’t happen.”

Keg nodded a little. “You could be a for life kind of person for her, but she’s already a for life kind of person for a dead woman.”

Beau nodded, eyes low. “Yeah. Fuck.” she took a long drink. “You sure you don’t want to get laid? I could use the distraction.” she asked, only half joking.

“I don’t fuck people who are in love with another person, Beau.” Keg replied pointedly. “Even if it’s as shit of a situation as yours, honestly.”

Beau nodded, taking a breath. “That seems fair.” Beau looked over, pressing her lips, thinking about Yasha. Thinking about her smile, thinking about her strength, her heart, her wife. A little voice always reminded her of that these days, can’t even enjoy her own daydreams anymore. “Can I just be totally honest?” Keg nodded. “Marriage always seemed stupid as hell. Like.. an obstacle at best, a trap at worst. But the way she talks about it, it sounds… fucing beautiful. It sounds like something I would want. I’m jealous of a deadwoman, Keg. Because I am a horrible person, apparently.”

Keg smiled a little around a sip. “Sounds like you’re a person.” She corrected. “As someone who’s been married, we even made it to our one hour anniversary, I kinda get the trap or obstacle perspective more, but… you know, to each their own.” Keg finished her drink, got a new one from the bartender, then gave Beau a cocky smile. “I’m gonna go challenge Fjord to an arm wrestling match. You look like shit, emotionally, so you should go sleep.”

Beau gave her a smile, then a nod. “If you’re here in the morning, I owe you a drink for listening to me.”

“Well, if I didn’t have motivation to be here in the morning before…” Keg gave Beau a punch in the arm, then headed off, leaving Beau with a half full cup of warm ale, and too much to think about.

Beau shot the remaining booze, and headed off to bed, head spinning with feelings and alcohol. She hoped the alcohol at least would be gone by morning.

#beauyasha #critical role #critrole #mine #my writing #thank you so much for this prompt #I will maybe write more if it is requested #and will be crossposting to AO3 #bloodyshadow1

[ewehorned]

there are a million moments of pain in the span of seconds. every nerve, every thought, racing on a razor’s edge. violet eyes are wide with worry, with panic, in the aftermath of oban’s ritual. everything was happening so quickly, and that laughter, that endless laughter was haunting the back of her neck. 

coming face to face with yasha, so cold and demented in her smile, the cleric feels powerless. no matter how much she screams, her friend doesn’t hesitate. jester can only watch in abject horror and betrayal as yasha cuts through nott, and then caleb’s massive furred form. seeing fjord some fifteen feet away, unharried by enemies as they others make their escape, a pitiful rush makes her stomach tie into knots. she has to believe that fjord will be fine. she has to. because acknowledging that her muscles ache from the grueling act of spellcasting means bringing to mind how useless she feels, how almost everything she’s done in these moments of panic has produced nothing. 

booted feet finally bring her past the threshold into the previous chamber, where caduceus is grasping at his wounds with heavy breathing. adrenaline has her heart thundering in her ears as the door still slowly grinds closed behind her. knees are weak, wobbly, as she rests on the floor, barely holding herself up. tears begin to well in jester’s eyes, slowly gathering now that the immediate danger will soon be trapped behind a door.’

“ shit -- fjord ! ”

it’s beau’s voice that cuts through the mixture of gasping breathing and sobs. she straightens up enough, shifting on the floor to turn and watch as the doors suddenly grind to a halt, and begin to slowly open once more. the sight that awaits her is one that drains the color from her features. jester barely has time to stand before the monk’s shoved the strange dagger into her hands. she clings to it numbly, as a line of searing flame cuts across the hallway. the details are out of focus ------ all she can clearly make out is the ragdoll resting in the laughing hand’s grip, green tinted skin smeared with crimson, stark shadows that stifle the light from his eyes.

her legs aren’t working properly. weakly, she passes the dagger to nott, only vaguely recognizing the rogue’s existence before staggering forward. beau is already halfway back but there has to be something, anything she can do right in this gods forsaken place. blueberry fingers wrap tightly around the whip at her side, and before she can think it through, before she can make the choice, she snaps it forward. the feeling of it snaring on something is all she focuses on, not the cry of protest from beau as she reels in her target. fjord is dragged past the door as nott scrambles to work the door mechanism, and jester’s hands are too clumsy to catch him properly. 

shouldn’t he be standing on his own?

“ fjord, come on, we have to go ! ”

behind her, the silence sinks in faster for her companions. jester laughs through a choked sob, tries to prop him up, grips his shoulders a little too tightly. she peers up at his face, the dark shadows that can not hide the truth from her, not for long, “ no, no -- nonono -- fjord ! ” she shakes him, crumbles to her knees as the whip is hastily tossed aside. she can vaguely make out the soft tone of caduceus coming closer, cupping the back of fjord’s head as another hand gently rests between her shoulders. 

it feels like eons. slow motion as the lifeless body of her closest companion is laid out on the stone before them, surrounded by crystalline mirrors that stifle what light still exists in this chamber. 

loss. helplessness. it slogs through her mind as she turns weakly towards their firbolg friend, cheeks already slick with tears. with a trembling hand, he wraps her fingers around a small clutch of diamonds. she’s useless. she couldn’t do anything. they said they would take care of each other ----

“ you.. still got that fancy pearl, right ? we don’t got a lotta time, and -- i’m all out. ”

for a moment, the phantom feeling of a scarred upper lip gracing her cheek with a kiss causes her throat to tighten. 

“ i’m sorry t’have to ask you to do this again, miss jester.. ”

caduceus’ voice rattles between her ears before a warm feeling crawls under her skin, guides her hand to the pearl of power tucked away with her things. shaking fingers pinch and squeeze, and a surge of strength soothes some of her aching body. the dull thud of a body heavily throwing itself against the door provides a pulse as precious seconds tick away. jester fumbles with the chain at her hip, clutches the symbol of the traveler between her hands, shoulders shaking as diamonds shatter into dust. a warmth flourishes beneath her arms, lifts her hair from her face, soothes the shuddering of her cheeks. the others watch, briefly mystified by the shimmer of color that sinks into the sailor’s unmoving body. she presses her hands to his chest, grips tightly at his armor, squeezes until the holy symbol in her hand threatens to draw blood from her palm.

in her mind’s eye, she sees another set of hands atop hers, fervently pushing with her, sinking into fjord’s body.

please... please, i can’t ---- i can’t lose him, too ---- 

her whole body rocks forward with a sob, draped over his chest as the desperation finally hits her. jester doesn’t care who’s staring, doesn’t care at all. she’s just so tired, so frustrated, so ----

“ uh --- ha-hey, jessie. ”

his voice is soft, low, it rumbles under her cheek as southern drawl tremors through his bloodied leathers. in a snap, jester lifts her head, fresh tears still flowing. slowly, fjord starts to lift his head with a half conscious smile, knees drawing in as an anchoring hand softly grips her shoulder. she doesn’t have time to tell him, not with everyone else pulling them to her feet to drag themselves back up to the surface. she can’t tell him while they’re running across the bridge, whispers filling their ears as the metal bridge rattles and sways, or when they’re making a mad ascend through the tower. she can barely see five feet around her, but she’s fine tuned to the sound of fjord’s haggard breathing. she can’t spare anything more, but she can put herself between her friends and any incumbent danger. 

it isn’t until they’ve finally bedded down, when the numbing silence that’s cocooned their loss, their heartache, that jester finally has a moment to breathe, to process, to pull fjord aside. she just, isn’t sure what she wants to say. in the moment she had wanted to tell him everything, to spill out the contents of her heart, but they’re all too raw, too wounded, too aching for that. in a way, she’s glad for the chaos; it probably spared her from the embarrassment.

“ hey, jester ? can i... talk to you, for a second ? ”

she blinks once, twice, body too exhausted to pinch her features in surprise. fjord is standing almost sheepishly, leaning heavy on the wall as his eyes are more focused on the red cord at his hip. jester sits up slightly, with a soft, “of course, fjord.” the optimism is weak, thin, as her neck strains with the effort of her appearances. she sets aside her sketchbook, pages blank as fjord comes to join her. he tries to make himself small in that way he does when he speaks tenderly, lowering his head as shoulders turn inward slightly. 

“ i, ah --- i wanted to thank you. for.. bringing me back. with everything else going on.. that can’t have been easy. ”

there’s something off, but she pushes the thought aside. coming back from death, after all, had a way of changing people. it’s understandable if he was feeling weird, or a little sick.

“ don’t worry about it. it’s kinda what i do, you know ? ”

there’s too much sorrow in her tone, and he sees through it too easily. there is a heaviness in the air between them, and she shifts, glancing towards his hands as he raises one in gesture as if to stop her.

“ you don’t gotta --- listen. that was.. everything’s up in the air right now. but i’m... i’m glad we’re still us. lookin’ out for each other. ”

the smile she wears softens at the edges as jester sinks into herself, lifting a hand to rub at her eyes. she’s tired, but he at least lifts some of the weight from her shoulders. silence hangs softly, and after a bit, normalcy almost returns ---- that is, until fjord speaks suddenly, brows furrowed in that half-joking tone. 

“ jester, i hope you realize.. i literally owe you my life. that’s a big deal. gonna have to find a way to pay you back one’a these days. ”

“ oh really ? ”

normally, their banter would continue, with wiggling brows and indulgent humor. but instead, her back straightens, as she bumps a shoulder lightly with fjord and smiles, weariness finally winning over her features.

“ you can start... by letting me get some sleep. ”

“ .... right. i will.. do that. see you tomorrow, jessie. ”

#fjorester #kind of ??? #death tw // #cr spoilers // #idk what i'm doing #🗴 ( V. MAIN / wandering whimsy ) #self indulgent drabble i guess !!!!

[snubbingapollo]

The widofjord kiss fic was wonderfully fluffy! If you're still doing them- Caleb taking care of Fjord. Maybe he's injured or sick (or from the last fic, with the instincts thing he just has the driving need to keep Caleb safe and protected and such so Caleb can't go far for a little bit and he's humoring his half orc) and Fjord just really enjoying being taken care of and the TLC.

Ooooh boy, this is my kind of prompt :D

Caleb had not expected the effect pretending to be dead would have on Fjord. He really should have, would have if he’d had a moment to think but there was a javelin buried three inches into his stomach and then Nott was yelling one of their code phrases and he’d acted on instinct.

And Fjord had lost his mind. There had been a noise from him that approached a roar and then Jester was dragging him and really, he probably should have told them he and Nott’s set pieces. They *clearly* thought he was actually dying, That was only made more obvious when Fjord finally managed to fight his way over to him. He crouched protectively over him, snarling at anything that came too close.And he’s still there now. Caleb had shown him where Jester had already healed him, that he was fine but Fjord had been so distressed. He’d picked Caleb up and carried him back to the cart, despite Caleb’s protests that he could walk just fine and set him down in one of the corners, curling around him and rumbling deep in his chest.“I’m fine, really,” Caleb murmurs, leaning into Fjord’s shoulder. Fjord rests his cheek against the top of Caleb’s head with a huff.“I know, I just-,” he broke off and when Caleb pulled back to look at him, the skin of his cheeks was a darker teal than usual. He was *blushing*. “If you want to get up, I’ll be alright I just need- I *want*-”“You need to hold me and growl for a bit?” Caleb asks. Fjord had backtracked and tried to say it was only a want but Caleb has a feeling that has more to do with his own embarrassment over his Orchish heritage than his actual feelings. Fjord swallows hard, pulling him even closer.“Like I said you can leave if you want, you don’t have to sit here and let me fuss,” he mutters and Caleb sighs. He turns in Fjord’s embrace meeting and holding his eyes.“I want you to be happy, and to feel like you can talk to me about these sorts of things. I am not with you in *spite* of these things, Fjord. They are a part of you and they are as important to me as every other part of you. If you need to hold me and be protective after seeing me injured, then that’s what I want you to do,” he says. He manages to hold eye contact all through speaking but once he gets it all out he does have to look away so he misses Fjord’s expression but the man leans in and kisses his forehead.Caleb smiles at the contact, letting his eyes close. Fjord pulls away just enough to tuck Caleb back against his shoulder and rest his cheek against the man’s hair again. He rumbles softly, stroking his hand up and down Caleb’s arm.The rest of the group starts to retake their sleeping positions but when Jester goes to curl up next to them Fjord growls, just a little. Her eyes widen for a moment before she gives a delighted laugh.“Oh, you two are so *romantic*,” she says, backing up. “It’s just like Oskar and Guinevere! We have to give them space, you guys!”The rest of the group gives a few good-natured grumbles and some laughter but they shift to make sure they don’t get too close to Caleb. Fjord is hiding his face in Caleb’s hair and Caleb reaches up to run his fingers through Fjord’s.“They’re not judging you and neither am I,” he murmurs. “They are your friends and I am your lover. We all want to give you what you need.”Fjord shudders against him, tightening his arms around Caleb.“You make me feel so safe, Fjord,” he continues and Fjord gives that low happy rumble again. Caleb smiles at the sound, scratching gently at the back of Fjord’s neck. “You purr louder than Frumpkin, Liebling.”“’m not purring,” Fjord mumbles and Caleb chuckles.“As you say. Are you feeling better?”Fjord nods, nuzzling against him.“Thank you,” he murmurs and Caleb smiles. As if being held and protected and looked after is some sort of hardship. He’ll convince Fjord it isn’t a burden to give him what he needs some day. For now, he’ll just keep saying it.“Whatever you need, Fjord. Any time.”

#widofjord #Caleb widogast #Fjord #critical role #Anonymous

[sockablock]

Happy Thursday y’all! To celebrate, here’s Chapter 7! Stuff this time: Emotional jam sessions with Nott/Fjord; the gals talk; Caleb's Big Secret; this website; Blue Man Group; the sewer exploits begin

Chapter 7: Memories of Fire

“The Gentleman says he’s alright with us taking on a contract for the King’s Hall at the same time,” said Fjord.

The party was in Beau, Jester, and Yasha’s room that afternoon, planning for tomorrow. Most of them sat in a semicircle on the floor, with Jester and Nott perched on the chest at the foot of the bed. Three maps were spread out on the wood before them. Frumpkin scratched his claws along a chair leg in the background.

“Excellent,” grinned Molly. “A two-for-one deal.”

“We just have to report back to the Gentleman first,” said Beau. “He wants to get the details before anyone else, and he’ll probably decide what we can and can’t tell the Herald.”

“That makes sense,” Caleb sighed, “since we will be moving through his territory.”

“Kara suggests we should check out these areas of the sewers,” Beau said, using her staff to point to a series of ink circles. “She says shit’s happened there. Also, I’m not entirely sure how happy they are that we were able to find these maps.”

“Luckily for them,” Fjord said, “they aren’t completely accurate or up-to-date, so they don’t have to worry about all of their secret passages and important shortcuts being discovered. Unluckily for us.”

“Why do they not just give us our own maps, then?” Yasha asked.

“They don’t trust us not to copy them down,” Fjord said, then gave a sideways glance to Caleb. “Not that we would need to.”

“They still don’t know about the Frumpkin arrangement,” Nott grinned proudly. Said cat continued to decimate the chair behind them.

“Anybody have any preferences for where to go?” Beau asked.

“We can take the northern passageways,” said Molly, looking at the scroll.

“We will go west!” Jester declared, and Yasha nodded.

“South for us it is, then,” said Beau.

“Remember, everyone, don’t engage with anything if you can avoid it,” said Fjord. “After an hour, we’ll meet back at the entrance and compare notes. Then we move further as a group.”

Jester leaned against the footboard. “I’m not going to lie, I’m getting a little nervous about this fight.”

“I don’t like not knowing what we are up against,” said Yasha.

“It’s…it’s no big deal,” Beau said. “We killed crazy wraith guy in an abandoned laboratory, we fought off a devil toad, we even took out a huge fucking manticore! And a bunch of gnolls and a weird dark priest all at the same time! We got this.”

“We’ll be fine as long as we work together,” Fjord said, and the rest agreed. But not without hesitating first.

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

“I asked you this a while ago,” Caleb said slowly, “but if you wouldn’t mind, could I ask it again?”

Nott looked up. She was prepping spells for tomorrow, methodically pulling small components out of her pouch and examining them. There was already a strange assortment of items spread out on the floor in front of her: little bits of cotton, chicken feathers, strips of copper wire. Caleb, sitting on the bed, was doing the same. He had a clay cat’s paw in his hands and various small objects scattered on the sheets around him.

“Ask away,” she said.

He took a deep breath. “What do you think of Mollymauk?”

She fiddled with a bit of string. “What do I think of Mollymauk?”

“Ja.”

“Well…I think he’s a bit of a bastard, who lets his own feelings get in the way of understanding why other people do things. He speaks in circles about trusting and not trusting and doesn’t accept it when you argue with him, or at least if you don’t pretend to agree. I think he’s weird and a fool for not wanting to know more about his past, especially when it’s obviously coming back to bite him. He thinks he’s smarter than he is. He puts on a display of flashiness and charm to hide how scared he is, and how much he really doesn’t know about the world.”

Caleb stared at the cat’s paw, thinking. Then, just as he opened his mouth to respond, Nott held up a finger.

“He’s also a brave fighter,” she said slowly, as if admitting a secret. “He’s quick to defend, and he’s good at thinking on his feet. With the group, he’s way more loyal and caring than I thought he’d ever be. He might not like all of us, but everything he does is to keep us together and make sure everybody gets their fair share. He’s kind to people who don’t deserve it, and he cares about people who don’t care for themselves,” she added, and gave Caleb a pointed look.

“He’s a good person. Maybe he’s a weird idiot, but he’s a good person. Especially for you.”  

Caleb was silent for a while. Then, “Thank you for that, Nott.”

“What do you think of Mollymauk?”

“I…I was not so sure at first. But I believe I think quite highly of him, now.”

She gave him a wide grin. “Are you going to tell him that?” she asked.

He fidgeted with the paw. “I don’t know,” he said. “I want to, but I don’t know.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about rushing to do it,” Nott said helpfully. “It seems like he’d be willing to wait a while for you.” 

Caleb did not answer, but he did give a small smile.

“Hey, have you got some copper wire I can borrow?” Nott asked. “I’ve only got a bit left.”

“Of course, spatz. Here you go.”

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

“Don’t you think we should get you some real swords?” Fjord asked.

Molly, from his perch on the bed, shrugged. “These have been with me a while, now.” 

“But aren’t they prop swords? Made of ‘cheap carnival glass’ or something?”

“Yes, but remember, the magic has been within me all along,” Molly said, and grinned. “I’m pretty sure I could give myself a splinter on a club and it would be just as deadly as a sword. I could use this—” and he held up the needle and thread he was using mend a tear in his coat, “—and I could probably do a fair bit of radiant or ice damage along with it.”

“Right, right, but if you had a proper weapon, you wouldn’t have to cut yourself to fight.”

Molly opened his mouth, and then closed it again. Fjord, who was cleaning his leathers for the coming fight, watched the tiefling’s expression changing with interest.

“I…I guess so,” Molly said eventually. “But I’ve never not fought they way I do. I’m not sure I know any other ways.”

Fjord gave Molly a small smile. “If you ever want to spar, I’m here.”

“Thank you, Fjord Tough.”

Fjord sighed. “Don’t make me rescind that offer.”

“Do you prefer Oskar?” Molly teased, and Fjord blushed.

“I think I’ll go with Fjord Tough.”

“How was your walk with Jester last night?” Molly asked as casually as possible.  

“Oh, er…good? It was nice to be able to walk around the markets, just the two of us.”

Molly leaned in, and a grin was starting to break through his mask of nonchalance. “Really? What did you two do, just stroll and talk, or…?”

Fjord missed the open-ended nature of the question. “Actually, if you remember, we ended up fighting a…what did Yasha call ‘em? A Carrion Crawler. In the middle of the street, along with three Crownsguard. Those things are tough. And not to criticize the lovely men and women that protect us, but this city’s law enforcement is useless.”

Molly laughed. “Better to call in the rest of the Nein when you need something.”

Fjord nodded. “But other than that, yeah, it was rather pleasant.”

“I’m glad.”

“It’s…it’s no secret that Jester likes to flirt with me,” Fjord sighed. “More so than with Caleb and all the others, and definitely not just to make me embarrassed, don’t think I haven’t noticed that.”

“I never doubted your romantic observation skills.”

“And she’s a lovely person,” he continued, ignoring Molly’s cheek, “don’t get me wrong. I just feel I need more time before I go off making any decisions.”

“More moonlit strolls.”

“Sure, yeah.”

Molly nodded and went back to sewing up his sleeve.

“How are you and Caleb?” Fjord asked.

Molly didn’t look up, but he could feel the weight of Fjord’s curious glance.  He sighed. “There’s no point in pretending there’s nothing going on, right?”

“Jester told us about it all like…a week ago.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. What do you think?”

Fjord thought for a moment. “It’s definitely not a match I saw coming,” he said. “After all, you’re very outgoing and he’s the least outgoing person I’ve ever met. He sucks at talking to people. You’re a lot of color and…pizazz, but I think if Caleb laid down on the ground he would blend in so well we wouldn’t be able to see him anymore. He’s very analytical, and you have a lot of heart.”

Fjord looked down at the faint arcane sigils spiraling across his armor. They glowed a soft blue.

“But then…it also makes a ridiculous amount of sense,” he said. “I don’t really know that much about him, yet, but you’re both on your second start. You both focus on the good of the group, trying to heal up and protect everyone. You bring out good things in one another. Caleb makes you calmer, a little less impulsive, while you being around makes him braver in combat and more likely to speak up to strangers. You keep him honest, and he’s always supported your decision to forget the past. You’ve got a sense of humor, and he does too, though it’s a bit more hidden. You’re both kind. And you both care about one another quite a bit.”

Molly finished closing the hole in his coat. He looked up at Fjord.

“That’s what I think, anyways,” said the half-orc. “Does it help?”

Molly gave him a slow grin. “I think it does,” he said.

“Is that how you feel about him?”

“I…yes. Not quite that well-said, though. Mostly my brain has just been a jumble of feelings. So, er, thank you for that.”

“No problem.”

“And if you ever want us to purposefully get you and Jester alone, like you lot have been doing for me despite my not asking for it, just say the word.”

Fjord chuckled. “I might take you up on that one day. Though I think Jester is good enough at…at being Jester to create those scenarios by herself.”

“Now that’s the truth.”

There was a brief silence.

“Are you going to tell Caleb about how you feel?”

Molly sighed. “I…I’m not sure,” he said. “I want to. I really want to. I just…there’s still a part of me that doesn’t know whether or not he feels the same, no matter how much everybody tells me he does. I think I just need more time, or maybe I just need to hear it from him. I don’t…I’m not exactly the most experienced in this department.”

“You are two years old.”

“That is not the same thing.”

Fjord grinned. “Come on, you’re not the only one allowed to tease.”

“Fair enough. But, well, as I was saying…I’d just like to be absolutely ready before I say anything.”

“I understand.”

“I’m glad you do. It’s been a weird week. I’ll…I’ll tell him soon. I will.”

“I don’t think there’s any rush,” said Fjord. “This is important, and important things take time.”

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

“Those dumb shits need to kiss now,” said Jester, flopping down on the bed.

Beau yanked her staff out of the way just before the tiefling’s head could bump into it. She sighed, changed the angle of the weapon, and continued to polish it.

“Why is it so important that they must kiss now?” Yasha asked. She was cleaning her bracers by the table, her new whetstone duck placed next to the rest of her armor as if in a place of honor.

“Because I am putting so much of my focus into those two, I am neglecting everything else,” Jester said. “I am drawing much less, now, and I haven’t thought of any good pranks in days.”

“Isn’t that your problem?” Beau asked.

Jester looked up with a raised eyebrow. “That sounded much worse than it was, so I forgive you.”

“What do you mean—”

“I just am so busy hoping that they will finally get together, that my brain power is being used up. It’s just how that goes,” Jester said.

Beau gave up. “Sure,” she agreed.

“Jester, do you have everything you need for tomorrow night?” Yasha asked.

“Yes!” she said. “I even worked a bit on the map and cleaned my symbol to the Traveler.”

“What do you mean?” Beau asked.

“You’re doing it right now to your staff,” Jester said with a raised eyebrow. “You take a cloth and you spit on it and—”

“No, no, I mean what do you mean worked on the map?”

Jester reached for the haversack and produced Team Yasha’s map. “Look, I drew the monsters we fought in the sewers. This is the slime thing, these are the rats, and that’s the giant centipede Fjord and I killed.”

“…why?”

“So we know what to look out for!”

“That is a good idea,” said Yasha. “Nice work.”

Jester beamed, and Beau sighed.

“Sure,” Beau agreed, “thanks for the help.”

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

“Hey,” Molly said, knocking against the doorframe to Caleb’s room. “Ready to come down?”

“Ja, give me a moment. Come in, also.”

Molly walked into the room and crossed his arms. Caleb had a boot on the mattress and was doing up his laces. “Is Nott there now?” he asked.

“Yeah, she sent me up here to come get you. We’re going to head over to the King’s Hall to get our writ, then over to the Nip for the real job details.”

“Before we go down,” Caleb said slowly, “I have something I would like to say.” 

Molly raised an eyebrow. “Should I sit down for this?”

Caleb gestured vaguely over to the chest at the foot of the bed. Molly walked over and sat down. Caleb finished tying his shoes and took a seat on the bed.

“You asked me yesterday how I learned to speak Sylvan.”

Molly nodded.

“And do you remember that time in the baths, when I told you I had found a way to attend the academy?”

“Before we had to go kill a blob of slime.”

“Right, that ate a woman and tried to eat Jester.”

“Yes,” Molly said, cracking a smile. “Hard to forget that.”

“Indeed. But, well, on the subject of that way I discovered. It was…it was by joining the military.”

Molly blinked. “Oh. I see.”

“It was not a bad deal, at the time. I would serve ten years—”

“Ten years?”

“Ja, I know, but there were not many other options. Besides, they gave me an education, they fed and clothed me, they taught me new magics and tactics. They gave me brothers and sisters in arms, and promised all the money I would need for Soltryce, for living in Rexxentrum. They would write me the letters of recommendation, provide the official paperwork, everything. If I had rank, if I had standing as an accomplished warmage, it would be easy to get in. All I had to do…all I had to do in return was burn down whatever villages they wanted, incinerate whoever they wanted.”

“…did you?”

“…yes. For some time, I did. And then one day I was too close to it all. I…it is stupid that it took me that long, but I realized finally what I was doing. And I ran.”

Caleb turned towards Molly and gave him a sad smile. “That was my secret, the other night,” he said. “You know, the one that I did not tell you on purpose.”

Molly’s eyes widened. “Look, Caleb, I’m—”

Caleb reached over and put a hand on Molly’s shoulder. “I admit I was not pleased when I remembered what had happened, and that you lied to me. But I also remember you trying to stop me, and agreeing to let me speak when I told you I wanted to tell you anyways. And, you know, I am telling it to you now, again, and this time it is on purpose.”

“I am sorry, Caleb.”

“I know. Thank you.”

“And…and I appreciate you telling me. I really do. But…but why?”

Caleb took a deep breath. He stared at the bedsheets and picked at his sleeves. “I…I do not want you to think I am just a simple coward stumbling his way through the world. That part is true, but it has not always been all that I was. I…I have done many despicable things. You know I do not enjoy using fire, and that is because I have hurt people. Deeply. My past is rather bloody, or…or would have been if charred corpses and piles of ash could bleed. And…and perhaps I was just doing what I was told to do, but I still did it. I am still responsible for every life I took and every life I left behind broken and burned. I…I wanted you to know that, and to understand that when you are making your final judgement of me. I have not been a good person, Mollymauk Tealeaf.”

Molly reached over, and put a gentle hand under Caleb’s chin. He carefully guided the wizard’s face towards his, and two pupil-less, ruby eyes met a pair of clear blue ones, widened with surprise.

“It doesn’t matter what you’ve done,” Molly said softly. “What matters is who you are now. You are not a coward. You are not stumbling. You are a brilliant fighter with and without fire, and as far as I am concerned, all you have done so far is protect yourself, and protect your friends. From what I’ve seen, you’ve only hurt people that hurt you first. I have made my judgement of you already, Caleb Widogast, and I…”

His heart pounded. Caleb’s face had turned bright red, and Molly could feel the other man’s pulse racing.

“I…I…”

…he couldn’t do it.

Slowly, Molly pulled away and dropped his hand onto the sheets. “I care a great deal about you,” he said instead. “I admire your skills, I value your friendship, and I believe in your second start.”

He stood up and dusted off his coat. “After all, you believed in mine.”

Caleb blinked in surprise, then nodded slowly. “Of course.”

“Let’s go down for some breakfast now, alright?” Molly suggested, chest aching. “Hopefully Nott saved us some sausages.”

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

“There are no more,” said Nott. “Jester ate all of them.”

“That is not true.”

Fjord sighed and tried to draw the group’s focus back. “So, we’re agreed, then? Only cantrips if you can help it. We’ve got a ton of healing potions now too, so that should be able to save Jester for more offensive spells.”

“Yeah, yeah, but I’m still on standby to heal in case something super bad happens,” she said, waving her hand.

“Alright, then,” he nodded. “We should head over soon to the King’s Hall. Does everybody want to come?”

“I might be better staying here and preparing spells,” Caleb said.

Jester, Nott, and Beau all looked pointedly at Molly.

He sighed. His brain was still a mess, but he managed to pull through. “I’ll hang around here too,” he said. “I can…I can…I’ll keep Caleb company.”

“I want to go to a blacksmith,” said Nott. “To get more crossbow bolts.”

“I’ll come with you,” said Beau. “There’s always more ball bearings to be bought.”

“Alright, so it’s me, Jester, and Yasha then,” said Fjord.

“Berry,” said Yasha.

They all looked at her.

“Excuse me?”

“Last time we took a job from there, I gave my name as Berry,” she explained coolly. “Our faces are not common ones, so I should give the same name in case they remember.”

“Damn,” said Fjord. “I forgot about that.”

“I think I just said my name was Beau,” said Beau.

“I think I might also have given my name as Bo,” said Fjord.

“I was Shirley,” said Jester.

“I was Temple,” added Nott.

They looked at Caleb and Molly.

“…Esma?” tried Molly. “I remember something about that.”

“I was not present for this,” said Caleb. “You could just give any name.”

“Reginald,” said Jester, and he shrugged.

“That works.”

“Okay,” said Fjord, “Now that that’s settled, is everybody ready to go?”

“Wait,” said Nott, and pulled a sausage out of her pouch. She handed it to Caleb. “Here you go, Reginald, I forgot I saved you one.”

And then the respective groups moved out, leaving Molly doubled over in laughter at the table and pounding his fist against the wood. Caleb sighed, holding a single, lint-covered sausage in his hands.

“Frumpkin,” he called, “come eat this.”

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

“Here you are,” said Herald Voloshin. “Present it to the guard stationed at the sewer entrance, and they will let you in. Same as before.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Fjord. “We’ll be back soon with results.”

“Good,” said the dwarf, spinning around and walking back to his office. “You are dismissed.”

“I do not like him,” said Yasha, after he had left.

“Me neither,” said Jester.

“But do you think it was wise of you to stick a ‘kick me’ sign onto his back?” Fjord asked.

“Nobody noticed,” Jester said defensively, “and even if they did, nobody cared.”

“Maybe we should get going now,” he sighed, “just in case.” 

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

Nott poked her head into the small satchel. “I’ve never had this much ammo before,” she said in an almost dreamy voice.

“Good,” said Beau, “we’re going to need it tonight.”

“Is that why you bought four thousand ball bearings?”

“Yep.”

“Isn’t that heavy?”

“Actually, not really. These things are pretty light.”

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

“You know, I really do appreciate you telling me your big secret,” said Molly as he watched Caleb double-check his spell components.

“I am glad for that,” said Caleb. He carefully slid soot and salt into a small pouch in his hands.

“I’m still sorry I haven’t told you mine,” said Molly.

Caleb looked up. He had a soft expression on his face. “There’s no need for apologizing,” he said. “It is yours to tell and yours to give away. There is nothing wrong with waiting.”

“I just…I just really want to tell you. But I can’t. I promise, I want nothing more than to tell you.”

“Would it be easier for you to just say it again in Infernal?” Caleb asked.

“It would be easiest if I could just say it in Common,” Molly sighed. “But maybe I’ll take you up on that offer at some point.”

“It is nice to hear,” said Caleb. “As I said before, it reminds me of Zemnian. Which nobody speaks around here.”

“Well, you just have to ask for it, and I’ll tell you everything you want to hear,” Molly winked, and Caleb smiled, though did not understand.

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

“—and, unfortunately, a few of my men did disappear during the last two full moons, carrying important cargo. So, if you encounter them in your…expedition, please do recover their possessions for me.”

“Should…should we bring their bodies back too?” Nott asked.

“If you so choose,” said the Gentleman, “though they are not of high priority, by any means.”

There was a brief silence following that remark.

“Well,” and now he leaned in and laced his fingers together, “if there are no more questions, sundown will be in about an hour. Kara and Dweez are ready to escort you down whenever you are ready.”

“Thank you,” said Fjord, “I believe we are?” and he looked around at the rest of the group.

“Let’s get it on,” said Beau, and stood up.

“Excellent,” said the Gentleman. “Enjoy your time down there, and good luck, Mighty Nein.”

He gave them a slight wave as they were guided through a back door and down a flight of wooden stairs.

“Blindfolds,” said Kara, and passed them out. “You all know the drill.”

Slinking in the shadows behind them, Frumpkin’s eyes turned milky-white and gave off the faintest glow.

They walked slowly, the two members of the Gentleman’s troupe taking care not to let any of the Nein wander off.

“Do you know anything else about what’s down there?” Beau asked.

“Nothing that the Gentleman hasn’t already told you,” Kara sighed. “Just strange lights, weird sounds, the occasional awful smell once. Everybody we sent there to investigate didn’t come back.”

“Great,” said Beau.

“Don’t worry,” said Kara. “You lot are much better equipped to deal with this sort of thing than smugglers. You should be fine.”

“Should be fine,” Nott mumbled, and reached for her flask. Dweez snickered.

After about half an hour of weaving through carved-out tunnels and passing by strange, glowing fungal growths, and skittering underground creatures that only Caleb/Frumpkin saw, they reached their destination.

“You can take them off now,” said Kara. “We’re here.”

They removed their blindfolds and stared up at a large break in the cavern wall. It was blocked off by a sturdy iron fence that Dweez scuttled over to and unlocked. Past the metal bars, the wind whistled and a slow stream or liquid trickled over the rocky ground.

“This part leads into the western sewage systems of Zadash,” said Kara. “We’ll both be here if—when you come back, tomorrow morning. We’ll return to the Nip at noon, so make sure you get back before then. Good luck,” she said, and gestured for them to walk on.

“Thank you,” said Fjord. “We’ll be back.”

Then they all stepped through the gate. Dweez swung it shut behind them with a maddened giggle, and he and Kara turned back to their waiting positions, leaving the Nein standing in the darkened face of a seemingly endless, cold subterranean labyrinth.  

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