#that domain will give me a better feather for him some day i SWEAR

[electric-plants]

my heart: im gonna double crown cyno’s talents today🥰🥰

my mora: 💀💀💀

#genshin impact #gi cyno #is anyone else on the constant mora struggle game cause— #im trying to get his skill crowned today meanwhile his normal attack is level FIVE #im great at talents😤 #eventually i’ll max all of someone other than alhaithams talents #i have one friend in genshin and he Bullies me about this constantly #because we usually help with domains when we play together #and im always doing things for alhaitham lol #that domain will give me a better feather for him some day i SWEAR

[genshin-impact-fics]

Streamer!Genshin Meeting Character!(Y/n) for the First Time

Characters: Scaramouche, Childe, Albedo, Kaeya, Venti

Scaramouche:

His viewers were constantly requesting that he play this game that’s been out for a little while now that was called Genshin Impact. So he finally gave in to see what all the talk was about

Getting through the tutorial and the first part of the chapter felt so long; visually it was beautiful as the story was pretty decent so far.

It wasn’t until he got to Liyue in the archon quest that things seemed to pick up for him. The character who saved him from almost getting arrested kind of irked him; it reminded him of his one roommate who was a rich kid type.

It wasn’t till the release of the event Unreconciled Stars that once again many of his followers flooded his messages telling him he needed to play the event during his streams so they could see his reaction to meeting a new character.

Curiosity peaked after hearing a bit that the character would be an electro catalyst. Which he started to play it instead of holding off for a few days; honestly he really wasn’t expecting much

It was until he finally saw you appear; he was a bit surprised as you weren’t exactly how he pictured you yet you looked cute but in a cool way? A little more of the interaction he’s a little on the fence on how he feels about you but he was interested in where this event was going, there was something just a little bit… off

Progressing he was a little bit bummed since he thought there would have been a bit more interaction with you. That was until he was back in Mondstadt with Mona who was helping solve this mystery when pleasantly surprised that you’ve showed up. Until Mona seemed to have some sort of revelation that caused her to teleport them all out of there

Needless to say he wasn’t happy that he was taken away from seeing you. “Excuse me you bring me back,” was his initial reaction but continued to watch when it was more clear that you were there to kill him. You were that other harbinger; number six of the fatui harbingers and the moment you snapped at one of the agents, you had instantly become one of his absolute favorites.

Childe:

Though his viewers have been requesting to play the soon released game Genshin Impact he has actually been long awaiting for this game.

To celebrate the release it was going to be a long stream as he’s stocked up on water and energy drinks and snacks. He’s definitely planning to do a giveaway for his viewers (though he won’t bring it up until he finally unlocks the wishing feature)

He enjoyed the plot so far as the conflict with Dvalin has been resolved but now the ameno archon’s gnosis was stolen by some woman who appeared out of nowhere. Soon to learn about the fatui group and their eleven harbingers

Off to Liyue at long last! There’s been chatter of one character that shows up fairly early in the quest and he is very curious to encounter whoever this character was

He was finally at the part where Rex Lapis came crashing down from the sky dead and now was sneaking to get to the exit. Definitely took him a couple of times and in the process of it all he was certainly singing the whole “Don’t be suspicious, don’t be suspicious” song

Finally getting the cutscene where his character gets chased after unfortunately making sound. When things looked like it was going to turn into a fight he was surprised when hearing a new voice say “I got this one sweetie”. His mouth has dropped in pure awe of watching your character flip from above appearing out of thin air as you handled the Millelith with ease

Hearing you say follow me he had such a grin on his face; “Don’t gotta ask me twice I’ll follow you anywhere”. Of course his viewers in chat were raving and just spamming the laughing emote as the cutscene continued in a safe place

Looking at your character model admiring you as the reveal that you were a part of the harbingers but seemed to be rather friendly. “You guys I’m in love. (Y/n) better be a playable character at some point… I’ll be sad if I don’t get to travel the world with them” he says as when he finds out you're rich his initial thought was “So are they going to spoil me or do I get to spoil them? Cuz I really want it to be the second one” He hadn’t known you for long but he already wants to give you the world

Venti:

He was mainly known for his streams where he’ll sing or perform some of the instruments he enjoys and many of the games he’d play were a lot of rhythm games or one of the hilarious simulator games; so for him to pick up Genshin Impact it’s a little outside of the typical games he’ll usually play

He really loves the music so far, if the music wasn’t to his liking he’d probably drop it. Will probably take a moment to just listen to it and talk about what possible instruments used to compose it

After running around the world and looking for chests and whatever materials he saw along the way. He suddenly saw the big dragon fly over head and now making his way to the whispering woods to look for the feathered looking dragon

The cut scene started and there was the dragon on a rock but then he saw you; he doesn’t know anything about you but having seen you in some of the images that the company released he’s been interested in your character!

During your moment with your old friend had was making this face 🥺 but then that was when the snapping sound echoed causing the dragon to freak out and leave in a gust of wind. “Noooo I’m so sorry” he’s shouting at the screen when he watched the expression on your face turn sad before you seemed to just vanish

Has been bummed out since he hadn’t seen your character in a while until he saw you running with a lyre in your hand, he only fell in more love with you as he was running around with you trying to get the holy lyre from the church

Albedo:

It had been a while since more of the story was out but of course he’d play to do his commissions and gather materials he needed, but when his viewers showed him the announcement of the newest section of the map will be released; oh there was a new temperature mechanic that if it was too cold that his characters could freeze to death

Generally that would be fine… but he enjoys stopping and admiring the scenery which he easily gets distracted so he’s probably going to keep forgetting to stand by fire a lot

But the best part of all: they were introducing you, the chief alchemist of the Knights of Favonius. The one that was talked about by so many characters in their voice lines he finally was going to get a face to the name

He was already not liking that the so called ‘nun’ was insinuating that you weren’t trustworthy; the AUDACITY! Sure he hadn’t known your character long but he will defend you wholeheartedly, you have this charismatic to you that he’s just smitten

“If one day, I lose control… Destroy Mondstadt… Destroy everything… Can I rely on you to stop me?” After hearing that last line he needs a minute to take a double take to make sure he heard that correctly. “I swear if this is some sort of indication of something bad happening and I have to fight (y/n) I will not be happy,” he’s saying of course looking to his camera

Kaeya:

So many of his viewers were requesting that he play Genshin Impact as of course it would be a little different from the games he’s played in the past (Ya can’t tell me he wouldn’t have played Huniepop and doki doki literature club), but the idea of attractive characters in the game? He’s sold as the few characters he saw pictures of it seemed promising.

So he starts streaming it and all is going smoothly so far… Until it was time to learn about gliding right before Stormterror attacks and the mini flying fight happened

Once the cutscene starts he’s watching leaning back in his chair a bit until a clapping sound starts and that’s when everyone in chat was losing it and spamming the heart eyes emotes. Seeing you come into the shot he’s got a small little smirk; you were hot. He only seemed to love your character even more after hearing that you were the cavalry captain

When it came time to do your trail quest (which of course was the first one he went to do) he’s very much looking at your design and admiring your charming features. He asks his viewers if he leaves the domain if he gets to keep you or if you were one of the five stars that he’d have to wish for, spoilers don’t really bother him if he really wants to know what happens.

Seeing your summon art once he left he’s ecstatic that you will be forever in his team and once he’s able to he’s going farming so he can build you up

#genshin impact #streamer au #genshin impact fanfic #genshin kaeya #genshin venti #venti the bard #genshin scaramouche #genshin impact x reader #genshin albedo #genshin childe #tartagilla #reader impact

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas]

Ooooooh I’ve got a great idea, sooga goes to rito village to confront revali, the only other asshole (he’s a much better bitch than CIL) he knows, and tells him about the cil bullying situation, and no rito could possibly resist helping sooga, and revali can be the ONLY asshole in his group of friends so he ain’t having none of it... bassically I want revali to beat cils ass. hope your enjoying your day!

Oooh? An asshole with an asshole. I'm in, let's fucking go.

"Sooga’s here, Sooga’s here!!"

The rito women immediately started to preen themselves, so excited. Revali couldn't help but give himself a look over as well. Sooga was showing up, unannounced? And apparently without Kohga? Either it was business, or pleasure. Either way, Revali stepped out of his house, being met with the sight of the blade master. Big, strong, he was a real heart breaker amongst the rito.

"Sooga! We haven't seen you in such a long time!"

"Oh you've been keeping up the work out routine, haven't you?"

Sooga, as usual, was swimming in rito women. They surrounded him like feral dogs, clearly wanting his attention. Sooga HATED it, Revali could tell, but it was a sight to see. Sooga looked more uncomfortable than usual however, so Revali decided to be a peach, and break it up.

"Ladies, why don't you let the poor thing breathe?"

"But Revali!!!"

They whined, a few clasping onto his arm. Revali shooed them off, shaking his head.

"Quit being harpies, all of you. Why don't you all fetch him a snack instead, maybe something with fish. You like fish, right Sooga?"

Sooga nodded, trying his best to keep polite.

"I do enjoy fish. If it wouldn’t trouble you ladies-"

"Oh not at all! KRISSI YOU BITCH MOVE!"

They damn near trampled each other on their way to their respective cooking pots. Revali chuckled, opening his front door.

"They like you. You should be flattered, rito men would LOVE to have them flocking the way you do."

"I swear they were about to pick me clean, like vultures…"

He stepped inside Revali's abode, allowing himself to sit down and be served a cup of tea. Never snacks. Revali knew he hated eating, especially away from Kohga. Revali took a seat across from him, getting comfy.

"So. You show up here, unannounced. And without Kohga. For what reason?"

"I actually wanted to come see you. It's...something Kohga can't know about."

Revali was listening. Maybe he wasn't too far off in his assumptions. A little secret between  them, away from Kohga. With muscles like that, who could refuse? He nodded, taking a sip of his own drink.

"But of course, Sooga. Just ask for it."

Sooga took a sip, stalling. He wanted those stupid lips, and he wanted them now.

"I'm...not sure how to."

"Sooga, the shyness is endearing, but my time is VERY valuable. So...ask me."

Revali leaned in closer. He smelled mildly of sweat, and holy SHIT he wanted to jump on him right fucking now. Sooga nodded.

"Apologies. You're right. So, I will say it. I'm...struggling with a blade master. Cil. He keeps trying to take MY Kohga from me, keeps making me doubt my relationship with him. I feel as though it's...separating us, and he's...proud like you. I don't detest you as I do him, but I just thought you'd know how to...handle it. In a way."

Not where Revali thought this was going, at ALL. He sat back in his chair, trying to tell his body that his ever increasing boner wasn't needed.

"Are you. Are you saying you're being bullied?"

"It...sounds childish when you put it that way. No, it's...more like, he makes me doubt my work and my love for Kohga. I'm dutiful, and I love my Master, but Cil….gets in my head. I feel like I should...end things with Kohga, if I'm so weak to simple words."

Revali could totally abuse this. Agree with this Cil person, and be Sooga’s shoulder to cry on. But Revali didn't bully for spite. He bullied for the benefit of other’s. Link demanded the most trust from him, and in the process, became a trusted friend in arms. So, despite how much Revali REALLY wanted to suck off Sooga, he did what was right for Sooga.

"Don't be an idiot. Somehow you and Kohga love each other. And this Cil fellow- he's abusing the mushy parts about you to get what he wants. YOU need to remember that Cil isn't some all knowing being-he's manipulative. I want you to go home after this, pick up something special for Kohga, and remember what I told you. Do you understand?"

"....I do. That's, oddly kind of you, Revali."

"Yes yes, I know, I'm a saint really. Don't go telling Link, he'll expect the same treatment."

"If you stop bullying Link, I'll end up bullying YOU."

They both shared a chuckle at that. Them talking shit about Link was one of the things they bonded over. Revali was about to say something specific about Link, when Sooga reached over to hold his hand. Revali felt his feathers fluff up (how embarrassing), just melting under such a big, strong hand.

"Sooga-"

"I just. Thank you. It's...not something that's easy to talk about with other's. They're so kind and they don't understand. It makes the whole situation-"

"Asinine?"

Another chuckle at that. Revali REALLY liked that chuckle of his. He was going to push his luck, maybe try touching something else, when his house was promptly invaded. By eager, loud, rito women, each holding a plate of food.

"Sooga! I'm so sorry I kept you waiting! I brought my seafood curry!"

"Oh don't poison the poor man! Here, try my fish pie!"

"He might as well eat sawdust! Sooga, here, try some clam chowder!"

Sooga sighed, while Revali sat there, chuckling. Sooga didn't deserve all the pestering he got. The women's attention, Revali couldn't help. But he knew one thing he COULD do.

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

"Have a good one Cil! Try not to glare some poor soul to death!"

"And you, try not to catch a disease."

Von laughed at the retort, pulling his fellow blade master aside for a steamy, drunken, sloppy make out session. Cil had made the mistake of joining Von for drinks, and had a pretty awful time. Drinks were shitty, expensive, and all Von did the whole time was stick his hand in between several pairs of legs. Cil decided a walk home in the cold night air would do him some good.

"So YOU’RE Cil."

Cil stood still upon hearing the voice, as well as the crunch of leaves, slowly growing louder and louder. He slowly turned, just in time to see his sudden visitor. Revali, champion of the rito. Arguably the best archer of his kind. Had to be, to make up for that short stature.

"Take it you've been looking for me?"

"Yes, actually. You see, to put it bluntly, I hate how you've been treating a friend of mine."

"You wouldn't be the first. I also don't care."

Cil was already bored. He tried to turn around and walk off, when he stopped, feeling something breeze past his head. An arrow, now buried into the tree in front of him. He turned around, looking at that angry face, and the now drawn bow.

"I think it's time you start caring. I want you to stop it. And I'm being nice, asking you politely. Don't make me act uncouth."

"Unfortunate. Us Yiga don't care for manners, not towards our assailants."

They stared each other down for a moment, before Cil rushed him, blade drawn. Revali dodged, barely able to avoid being sliced, unlike the tree next to him. Revali fired, only to be forced to hide behind another tree, Cil somehow deflecting it with his drawn blade. Cil cracked his neck, slowly approaching Revali's hiding spot. This was way better than just some walk.

"Come now, little birdy. I'll clip your wings quickly if you come out now, rather than later. If you make me wait...I'll make these woods sing with your screams."

Revali turned quickly, firing his arrow. He aimed not for his shoulder or even his head. Instead, he aimed for his hands. The weapon fell as the arrow struck, but before Cil could reach for his weapon, Revali pointed the tip of the arrow at his forehead.

"You can save yourself the trouble. Leave. Sooga. Alone."

"Ah...he's your little buddy, huh? He's not even asking you to do this,"

Cil lifted his hands up in defeat, slowly walking backwards as Revali kept stepping forward, right until his back was against a tree.

"How both you AND Master Kohga care for him so much...I'll never know. But I DO know...that it is a mistake you will both pay for."

He quickly grabbed the arrow from the tree behind him, and jabbed it into Revali's shoulder. Revali was about to just bear it and retaliate, before Cil used his body to push him to the ground. It knocked the bow out of his hands, and Revali was on the forest floor, with Cil wrapping his hands around his throat, and squeezing. Revali flailed, trying to do ANYTHING to be free. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.

"I'm sorry Sooga was your demise. I pity you. I-"

He didn't get to finish as Revali managed to lift himself up a hit, and swipe his talons at him. It hit right at his face, not just scratching his features, but peeling off his mask. Revali leapt up, grabbing the mask and holding it tightly to his chest. Cil sat there, covering his bleeding face with both of his hands.

"GIVE IT BACK. YOU DO N O T DESERVE TO SEE MY FACE!"

Revali glared at him, meeting his eyes through his fingers.

"If you'll back off Sooga, I'll give it back."

"He is a MUTT-"

"I'll tell EVERYONE I saw your face."

"They won't believe you."

"Rumors are powerful. Many would LOVE to make people think its real, just to humiliate you. Care to risk it?"

Cil hesitated. But when Revali's claws started to glide down the wood, he was convinced.

"OKAY OKAY! JUST. GIVE ME THE MASK, AND WE'LL CALL IT TRUCE."

Revali had no idea these masks were such a huge fucking deal. Whatever. He tossed the mask in his direction, watching Cil frantically put it back on, smearing the blood on his mask. Revali picked his bow off the floor, putting it back into its holster.

"You yigas better keep your word."

Revali was in the skies in just a second, headed right for Zora's domain. He stopped at Mipha’s window, giving it a knock. She opened her window, immediately looking worried as she saw the state he was in.

"Revali! What happened, you poor thing?!"

"I was...helping a friend. Suppose you don't mind doing the same for me?"

Was this a stupid decision? Yes. Like Link level stupid. But...Revali didn't at all regret it. Not for Sooga.

#asks #Revali #Sooga #Cil #this was SO fun to do??? #I loved getting some fight scenes #loved Revali and sooga being tender #and in case you're wondering this DID work #cil pulled back a LOT #and hes got a big nasty scar on his face that he hates #and hes too ashamed to tell anyone what happened #also headcanon; instead of blushing #rito feathers get all fluffy

[ravioxhilda]

Happy Four Year Anniversary!

Wow, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild is four years old already! Who would’ve thought March of 2017 was already that long ago? While I didn’t play Breath of the Wild until January of 2020, I will always be grateful for the fun times the game has given me, before and during quarantine. I have written a prompt with Mipha having amnesia and Revali helping her with it, which was meant to be short, but ended being around 4,000 words, though I hope you enjoy nevertheless!

“What has happened to my daughter?!”

Revali winced at the booming voice of King of the Zora, who was quite obviously distraught about his daughter.

Muzu, the King’s attendant, stood by his leader in the Throne Room of Zora’s Domain, the tranquil splashing of the waterfalls outside a polar opposite to the tense atmosphere within the room.

“The enemy had somehow infiltrated her mind and blocked off all of her memories with magic. We don’t...exactly know how he managed to do it, but I will help her get her memory back, whatever it takes.” He declared, glancing behind him towards the square.

Mipha was standing around looking utterly perplexed and in awe of her surroundings, which was painful for him to see as this was her beloved home she loved to sing praises for, now foreign and strange to her eyes.

King Dorephan followed his gaze towards the square and smiled sadly at the sight. How his Mipha would have loved to see Revali looking at her like that.

“Master Revali, I know you hold my daughter in high regard, but will you be able to carry through on your promise to restore her memories, if you cannot even determine what exactly has caused it?” He asked, causing Revali to snap his attention back to the problem at hand, nodding in affirmation.

“I care about her very much, I will do everything I can to bring her memory back. That is a promise.” He said, and Muzu snorted derisively.

“If anyone were to get our Lady Mipha’s memory back, it would be a Zora, not a Rito of all things.” He said, and both Revali and Dorephan glared at him, though Revali was more than willing to launch Muzu outside the Throne Room.

However, a warning look from Dorephan calmed his temper slightly, but Muzu smirked as he could see he had succeeded in riling him up.

“Now, now, there’s no need to get so flippant with our guest, Muzu. I have the utmost faith that Master Revali will restore Mipha’s memory, and we must assist in any way. Is that understood?” The King said firmly, and Muzu huffed but nodded.

“Yes, Your Majesty. I understand.”

Muzu then walked to Revali and held out his hand to him with his palm closed.

“This item here is an heirloom that has long been treasured by our kind, used as an engagement ring for the Zora Princess to her beloved in times past. Lady Mipha has been tinkering with it for quite a long while, so while it may not restore her memory fully, it may bring back a small portion.” He said, opening his palm to allow Revali to take the item.

Revali examined it closely, the heirloom turning out to be a gemstone, or three, as there were three pentagon-shaped sapphires connected by gold, the sunlight reflecting off the gems much like the sun reflects off the surface of the water.

He felt a soothing sensation emanating from the object as though he was being wrapped in a comforting hug, which made him desperately wish that he could hug Mipha right at that moment.

“Do you know what Mipha was doing with this?” Revali asked, and Dorephan shook his head sadly.

“I do not. She has had it for months after she disassembled the Zora Armor, though I know not why she has been focused on it. Perhaps she will tell you one day if she ever regains her memory.” He said sadly, Revali nodding as he pocketed the Zora Sapphire and bowed.

“I won’t let you down, Your Majesty.”

He then left the Throne Room, allowing Muzu the chance to huff as he walked out.

“Are you sure it is wise to allow a Rito of all people to help our dear Princess? She would be in better hands of a fellow Zora than an outsider.” Muzu said though Dorephan waved him off.

“My daughter loves that Rito with all her heart, regardless of whether or not she is ready to admit it. He may be the person she needs in her life to finally give her what she deserves, and will support any choice she makes. It is for the good of our people, Muzu.”

Revali soon arrived at the square where Mipha was waiting, Princess Zelda and Link beside her to make sure she didn’t wander off.

They both perked up when Revali arrived, though Mipha simply stared at him blankly with no recognition in her gaze, which sent a cold needle through Revali’s heart.

“What did the King say?” Zelda asked, and Revali sighed as he pulled out the Zora Sapphire from his pocket.

“He had me promise to restore Mipha’s memory, and his attendant gave me this,” Revali said, holding out the stone for Link and Zelda to examine.

“I cannot say for sure where I have seen this, but the shape is oddly familiar. Did they tell you anything about it?” She asked, holding the Sapphire to the sun as if the radiant light shining down upon them would give them the answers they needed.

“Only that it used to be what the Zora Princesses in the distant past used to propose and that Mipha has been messing with it in some way. Do you believe any of that information is relevant?” He asked as Zelda handed him back the Sapphire, though her thoughts seemed to be running rapidly in her mind.

“I do believe that information may have some relevancy, but I wouldn’t show it to her now. It is clear that she must have some sort of strong emotional attachment to this artifact, and we cannot risk stressing her brain when it is under the effect of such potent magic. Purah and Robbie are working on technology to restore her memory, though it may take quite a while.”

Revali sighed dejectedly as he pocketed the stone, turning instead to face Mipha, the one he cared so much for not even able to recognize his face anymore.

“Mipha?”

She turned to look blankly at him, though her face held no recognition.

She felt as though this place she was in was...familiar, though she couldn’t quite place why, and the people around her seemed familiar as well, especially the blue-feathered one that stood before her.

The Zora supposed that Mipha was her name, but no recollection of any of the other’s names came to mind, not even with the overwhelming feeling of familiarity towards them all.

“Yes? Is something wrong?” She asked politely, and Revali could have smiled at the fact that even though she may not have her memories, her sweet graceful nature was still present.

“No, nothing is wrong, but do you recognize this place at all? Do you recognize any of us?” He asked, and Mipha shook her head sadly as a feeling of guilt began to form, weighing down her heart.

“This place does seem...familiar, but I know not why, and I know that I feel very strongly about this place and you three, but the reasoning escapes me. I apologize for not knowing more.” She said, Zelda and Revali looking at each worriedly before Zelda placed a hand on her shoulder, a reassuring expression upon her face.

“It is alright if you cannot remember, it is not your fault. We’ll be here to help you, I swear.”

Zelda then turned to speak with Revali, holding out the Sheikah Slate to him.

“Link and I must return to Hyrule Castle to speak with Robbie and Purah and see if they have made any progress with restoring Mipha’s memory. Will you be alright in taking care of Mipha until we return?” Zelda asked worriedly, Revali waving a wing to brush off any concern.

“Princess, I know Zora’s Domain as well as my own home, and Mipha even better. I’ll do my best to show her any places that may jog her memory and that she doesn’t get killed in the process by the monsters around here.” He said reassuringly, though it did little to ease Zelda’s worries but she nodded nevertheless.

“We’ll be back as soon as we can. Take her to any places you think may displace the magic infecting her brain and restore her memories.”

Zelda then reached out to tap away at the Sheikah Slate, and within the blink of an eye, Zelda and Link were gone, transported away by the stone tablet’s mysterious technology.

Revali was relieved he didn’t have to travel by Sheikah Slate at that moment. While Zelda had sworn up and down that utilizing the ancient tech was the best way to keep the enemy on their toes, Revali much preferred to travel by his own two wings.

He turned to see Mipha staring placidly at him, causing him to sigh as he hooked the Sheikah Slate onto his waist. There was no doubt in his mind that restoring her memories would take some time and serious effort, so he decided it would be best to start right away.

“Mipha, I’m going to show you around Zora’s Domain, and you can meet everyone here and see the sights. How does that sound?” He asked, causing her to raise her hand to her chin as a show of thought, which Revali had always found so endearing, happy to see that particular mannerism hadn’t faded.

“That sounds...interesting. Where did you want to take me first?” She asked, and Revali thought for a moment, before pointing towards the Throne Room.

“It is customary for any guests to Zora’s Domain to meet with King Dorephan. Perhaps we should start there?”

Mipha nodded with a small smile on her face as she held out her hand to Revali, an impulse that she hadn’t even thought about, but it felt...right.

“Shall we go then?” She felt herself asking, Revali staring at her with a moment of shock. She hadn’t reached out to him since losing her memories, but here she was, smiling at him with her hand outstretched.

He returned the smile and gently took ahold of her hand, the both of them feeling a bit more at ease once they touched.

“Of course, My Lady.”

~~~

The entire day at Zora’s Domain had been spent with Revali showing Mipha around, her eyes taking in all the wonder of a home she did not remember.

If one did not know better, it may have seemed that the Zora Princess and the Rito Champions were merely sightseeing all around Lanayru, in the way they carried a conversation with seemingly little effort, even with Mipha’s memories gone.

Mipha looked around their surroundings, the area so achingly familiar but yet the reasoning why was out of reach, how she so wanted to know why she knew this place.

However, she couldn’t complain about holding the strange blue-feathered one’s wing, the feathers plush against her palm as he led around, acting as a sort of guide for her, which she was grateful for.

The two had soon descended the pathway from Zora’s Domain and were met by a pack of pesky Lizalfos roasting fish over a fire by the river.

Revali had dispatched of them easily with his bow, displaying marksmanship that Mipha had never seen before, and while she wanted to congratulate him on his obvious skill, she still could not quite figure out his name and did not want to ask him, lest she make things awkward between them.

The two Hylians that had spoken with her a few hours before were friendly towards her, though both of them seemed quite awkward for a reason she could not quite pinpoint, and the others the feathered one had mentioned had yet to show themselves.

Revali looked back at Mipha to see her staring at him with awe, a look he would never get tired of seeing from anyone, but was slightly relieved to see it from her.

“Are you alright?” He asked, Mipha nodding, her face starting to grow warm as he looked at her with that smile. She had a feeling she had felt this way before about him, but when?

“I-I’m fine. Thank you...for defending me.” She mumbled, causing Revali to smirk as he placed his bow back on his back. Her personality from before was shining through, he could tell.

“I was glad to be of assistance, My Lady. Shall we be on our way?” He asked though something had caught Mipha’s eye, passing by Revali as she reached out towards it.

One of the fallen Lizalfos had been brandishing a Zora Spear as its weapon, and though Mipha did not know why, she felt a connection to the weapon, as though she and it were one and the same.

She picked it up from the ground, marveling at the spear’s beauty and elegance as she ran her hand up the long metal pole that made up the majority of the weapon.

“What is this?” She asked, and Revali grinned as he saw her examining the weapon closely. It seemed that even with a wiped memory, her love for spear fighting could never be erased.

“That is a Zora Spear, a weapon typically used by those in the Zora Guard, albeit low-ranking soldiers. What do you think of it?”

She turned away from the spear and smiled at Revali once more, clutching tightly onto the weapon in her hand, as if she was afraid that if she let go of the weapon, it would just disappear.

“It is magnificent. I believe I’ll hold onto it, at least for now. Who knows what other monsters we may encounter?” She said and though it was a sound argument, Revali wondered if she remembered how to use the spear from years of fighting with her trident, or if she did indeed just think it was pretty.

“That is a good idea. Here, I know of one last place I can take you, it has the most widespread view of Lanayru that you will ever see.” He said, kneeling onto the ground, though Mipha was slightly confused.

“What would you like me to do?” She asked, and Revali sighed as he held out his wing to her.

“I’m going to fly us there. Is that alright, My Lady?”

Mipha nodded hesitantly, placing the spear in a holster on her back and took his wing, allowing him to pull her closer though he let go as he instructed her on how to position herself and where to hold onto him. She did it with ease as if she had gone through this process so many times.

“Are you ready?” Revali asked as he looked behind him to see Mipha still shifting around on his back before settling into place and nodding.

“I am. Let’s go.”

Revali nodded in affirmation, pressing his wings firmly into the ground to activate his Gale, before pushing off and launching the both of them in the air.

He felt Mipha scream as she held tightly onto him, and he felt as if he was having a flashback to the first time he had taken her flying.

Mipha was terrified out of her mind from the sudden jump into the mid-air, the only comfort being to bury her face in the Rito’s neck, the feathers providing her a slight escape from the high drop beneath her.

Revali supposed that it would make sense that amnesiac Mipha would be more scared than the Mipha he had known, she had trusted him to not drop her but that was formed over time, which he and the Mipha now did not have anymore.

She wasn’t panicking though, which Revali was appreciative for. A flailing passenger was the last thing he needed, but her silence worried him.

“Are you alright?” He asked, and Mipha nod against his neck as she cautiously lifted her head from where she was hiding, suddenly in awe of the view.

“I’m...fine. This region is so beautiful, how did you know it was here?” She asked, and Revali looked away, a sad look upon his face.

“I knew it because...you invited us all here before, me, Daruk, Urbosa, Zelda, Link, to help defend it against Calamity Ganon. I was in awe of how beautiful it was, and I thought...even though you don’t have your memories, you’d still like to see what your home looks like.”

Mipha looked at him worriedly as she buried her face again into his neck.

The two soon arrived at the top of the highest point in Lanayru: Ploymus Mountain.

Revali softly landed on the ground, allowing Mipha to change clamber off his back, though she seemed to hesitate as she did. Something was wrong with this place, but she did not yet know why.

Revali sensed something was off as well, causing him to pull out his bow from its holster into his hands, just in case something amiss did occur.

“Here, the edge of the mountain is just a little ways away. I didn’t want to get too close to the edge so we landed here instead.” He said, and Mipha nodded.

“Of course, that is sensible. Could you...lead the way? I have a feeling I’ve been here before, but something feels wrong. Perhaps I’m just imagining things?” She said nervously, pulling out her spear and holding onto the handle tightly, afraid that someone would attack.

“Alright then. Follow me.” Revali said as he began walking towards the main part of the mountain, Mipha trailing behind him.

Shock arrows were lodged in trees, rocks, even the ground, small sparks of electricity crackling around the magical tip of the arrow.

Suddenly, Mipha felt a memory slip in between the cracks, and she suddenly realized why the place felt wrong.

“Look out!” She yelled, and Revali turned to see a Lynel aiming an arrow directly at his chest. He cursed to himself for being so careless, how could he have forgotten there was a Lynel?

“Mipha, get away from here! This thing has shock arrows!” Revali yelled, nocking an arrow in his bow and launching it at the Lynel.

The Lynel stumbled back as it howled in pain as the arrow landed in its head, causing it to drop the Shock Arrow it was about to shoot at Revali, though it immediately readied another arrow.

Mipha could only stare in shock as Revali launched himself into the air, shooting flurries of arrows at the beast, somehow managing to dodge each arrow that went arcing through the air straight at him.

Every cell in her body was telling her to run, to get away from the electricity-wielding monster because she knew that one shot from it would prove to be fatal.

But she couldn’t just leave him. He meant something to her, but she didn’t know why. She so desperately wished she knew why.

A name came to her suddenly, with a kind smile and those green eyes looking back at her so endearingly. Those feathered wings holding her close as she felt tears run down her face, him whispering to her that everything would be alright, that he would always be there for her.

“Revali!”

Revali froze, turning to see Mipha reaching out her hand towards him, but he could still hear her voice calling his name in his head, reverberating and bouncing around. He was shocked.

“You...you remember my name?” He asked, and Mipha nodded hesitantly, the way he was looking at her making her feel all warm inside.

However, the Lynel saw Revali’s distraction as an opening and charged forward at full force, its sword ready to strike.

Revali heard the triumphant howl of the Lynel and could only watch in horror as it ran towards him, its sword aimed at his head.

“No!”

As if it was slow motion, Mipha ran past him with her spear raised, holding the pole between her and the beast, leaving Revali in shock.

Revali saw something shining in his pocket, pulling it out to reveal the Zora Sapphire, and he could see that Mipha was slightly glowing.

However, the Lynel was still barreling at them so he pocketed the stone once again, though he made a note to ask Mipha about it later.

“Mipha, what are you doing? This thing could kill you in five seconds just by shooting you with a Shock Arrow. It’s too dangerous!” Revali demanded as the Lynel slammed down on the pole, its curved sword trapped around the thin pole.

Mipha used the moment of weakness and pushed all her strength into pushing the spear towards the Lynel, causing it to stumble backward as it lost balance from being shoved so suddenly.

“If you think that I would abandon you while we’re facing a Lynel, then you would be terribly wrong. I’m not leaving you behind.” Mipha said, twirling her spear until the pointed tip of the weapon was aimed at the Lynel.

Revali smiled as he readied three arrows and nocked them in his bow as the Lynel regained its balance, quite angry that its target was taken from it by a tiny Zora.

“Did you regain your ability to fight, because your spear-wielding skills would be quite nice right about now?” Revali asked, and Mipha grinned and nodded.

“I never lost the ability to fight, my mind may have taken all my memories away but it could never take my spear fighting away. You cover me while I try and find its weak point and not get shot by Shock Arrows. Keep it distracted.” Mipha ordered, and Revali grinned as he knelt to ready his Gale.

“Your wish is my command, Princess.” He said with a smirk, waiting for Mipha’s signal.

She made eye contact with him and nodded before speeding towards the Lynel, Revali already up in the air and circling above her.

Revali had already begun raining down arrows upon the Lynel, though allowing enough time for Mipha to zip in between them and end up underneath the belly of the beast, a very dangerous place to be while fighting a Lynel.

The Lynel itself was not happy about being shot at with arrows and readied its own bow to shoot at Revali. However, Mipha aimed her spear upwards and thrust the weapon into its stomach, causing it to howl in pain once again as it dropped its bow.

Mipha pulled the spear from the Lynel’s body and ran out from underneath its body before she could get stomped by its hooves, though it allowed Revali the perfect time to aim his bow and shoot a bomb arrow at its head.

The arrow exploded as soon it landed in the Lynel’s head and when the smoke cleared, the beast had already begun dissolving into a pool of Malice, a defeated look upon its face before it disappeared completely.

Mipha could only stare in shock at what she had done as Revali cautiously landed beside her, though it wasn’t because of the now-dead Lynel.

“Mipha?”

She turned to see Revali standing beside her, though he seemed a little nervous.

“Revali, is something wrong?” She asked, and he nodded hurriedly, though she could see tears welling up in his eyes before he quickly wiped them away.

“Did you...did you regain your other memories?” He asked, and Mipha thought for a moment before sadly shaking her head.

“I have not regained memories about anything else, but I remember some things about you.” She said softly, reaching her hand out to him as he pulled her towards him, as though this was something that came naturally to them. Perhaps it was.

“What do you remember about me?” He whispered, and Mipha giggled as she placed her arms around his neck as he held her up closer to him.

“I remember that you are the greatest archer in this entire kingdom, even better than Link, and that you would always take any chance to show it. I remember you care so deeply about your home and our fellow Champions, even though you never showed it or expressed it directly. I remember that I have been working to imbue my healing power within a Zora treasure from ages past to help you in times of need. But I also remember one more thing.”

Revali shuddered as he could feel her breath tickling his skin even through his feathers, her voice giving him butterflies.

“And what is that?” He asked, and Mipha smiled as she moved back enough to look him into the eyes, placing both her hands on both sides of his face, wiping away the tears from his face.

“I remember that I love you, with all my heart and everything in my being.” She said, leaning upwards to kiss the tip of his beak, though Revali was shocked.

He had never expected to hear those words from anyone in his life, but here Mipha was, saying what he had always desperately wanted to hear.

“I love you, too.”

#miphvali #mipha #revali #revamiph #mipha x revali #revali x mipha #happy anniversary #happy breath of the wild anniversary

[bubonickitten]

Summary: Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path.

Chapter 3 is up! 

Chapter 1 (tumblr // AO3) | Chapter 2 (tumblr // AO3)

Full text + content warnings under the cut.

CW: brief claustrophobia; some grief and loss stuff; a few more instances of casual misgendering (not malicious; just some wrong pronouns here and there due to the speaking-in-statements thing, but thought I'd mention it just in case); a single LORGE spider. Also, Jon gets to do one (1) swear, as a treat. SPOILERS through MAG 169.

   Chapter 3: Rift

   Jon doesn’t remember the hill being this steep.

  Or maybe he’s just winded from the long trek through the wasteland. He’d had to pass through a long stretch of territory fought over by the Buried and the Vast. The ground there was practically a minefield, pockmarked with sinkholes. They would start out as quicksand traps and suffocating tunnel entrances, only to be hollowed out into yawning chasms and cenotes, then ultimately collapsed all over again by a retaliation-minded Choke. It was an endless cycle of petty rivalry and animosity, and passing so near their battlegrounds left Jon breathless with a discordant mix of claustrophobia and agoraphobia.

  Worse was when the Dark managed to sneak its way into the mix. Whether it was Too Close I Cannot Breathe or the Vast’s abyss, the Dark could always find a way to exploit subterranean spaces – and it could never resist reaching out to needle at an Avatar of the Eye, no matter how inadvisable it was to cross the Archive these days.

  As Jon drew closer to Hill Top Road, he left the warzone behind for a mostly featureless landscape punctuated with the occasional foxholes of the Slaughter and pockets of the Forsaken’s fog. Eventually those too gave way to a seemingly endless dust bowl of soot and ash – a sprawling domain claimed by the Lightless Flame.

  The house at Hill Top Road is the only thing still standing in the midst of kilometres of Desolation-scorched earth. The charred terrain stops abruptly at the foot of the hill, a stark line demarcating the boundary between the Blackened Earth and the territory that Annabelle Cane has staked out as her own. Jon had half-expected an invisible barrier to stop him there as well – the last time he was here, Annabelle had forbidden him from returning – but there had been no resistance when he stepped over the border.

  As he hikes up the incline now, he finds himself worrying over what that might mean. Is Annabelle expecting him, inviting him in? Is she simply tolerating his presence, curious to see what he’s up to? Could he be powerful enough now that even she cannot stop him? Or is he once again wrapped up in the Web’s machinations, doing exactly what the Mother of Puppets wants?

  He shakes his head. No. He and Martin talked about this. There’s no point in obsessing over the Web’s motivations, letting the memory of Annabelle’s statement paralyze him with indecision. Better to just… keep moving forward.

  And it’s not like he has anything left to lose. 

  Jon continues up the hill, increasingly winded, his bad leg throbbing angrily, and he thinks to himself again: he really, really doesn’t remember it being this steep.

   Before long, he’s standing at the threshold of the house at Hill Top Road. The dread permeating the place is just as palpable as he remembered.

  He waits for the Distortion’s inevitable appearance, determined not to let her startle him this time. As if on cue, a door creaks open on the ceiling above him.

  “Interesting.” Without preamble, Helen lands noiselessly on her feet beside Jon and peers around curiously. “I wondered whether Annabelle would let me in.”

  So did Jon. Maybe he should be concerned about – no. He shuts down that train of thought before it can pull out of the station.    

  “You still haven’t explained what exactly you plan on doing here.”

  Honestly, that’s mostly because Jon hasn’t figured it out yet, either. He only Knows that this is where he needs to be.

  The Eye wants things to change – as much as it can be said to want anything. Setting the question of its sentience or lack thereof aside, at the Panopticon he had been able to Know things that the Beholding had previously withheld from him. He might be stronger than the other Avatars and monsters lurking about the world, but he’s not arrogant enough to believe he could overpower any of the Fears themselves. If the Ceaseless Watcher gives him access to knowledge, it’s because his Knowing will facilitate – or at least not inhibit – its plans, which means that he must have the Eye’s… blessing, to be here? He shakes his head; he’s getting caught up on semantics again.

  Point is: he Asked a question and – as usual – he was given a scrap of an answer and left to puzzle the rest out for himself. All he Knows for certain is what he wants to happen, and that this is where he needs to be in order to make it happen.

  “Jonathan.” Helen says his name with a playful lilt and leans further into his personal space. “Are you going to share with the class?” 

  Without a word, he sidesteps around her and walks further into the house. In her statement, Anya Villette had mentioned a door under the stairs leading to the basement, but the last time Jon was here, it was nowhere to be seen. He hopes it’s there this time.

  “What are you looking for?”

  Jon drags one hand down his face and sighs. Having Helen tag along is like taking a road trip through hell with an easily bored and… well, deeply annoying child. Huh.   

  “I won’t be ignored, Jon –”  

  Jon bristles, redirects his gaze, and stares daggers at her with a few more eyes than strictly necessary. “Some magically appearing door.”  

  “You aren’t being very kind to me right now, you know.” She tries to sound wounded, but really she just sounds pleased to have gotten a reaction from him.

  Jon gives an irritated huff and continues forward through the entrance hall. He treads softly, all too aware of every subtle creak of a floorboard. He doesn’t know why he’s bothering muffling his footsteps. It doesn’t matter how quiet he is; Annabelle will know – probably already knows – that he’s here regardless. Still, there’s just something about the house that demands a certain amount of fearful reverence. Disturbing the silence just feels like a bad idea. 

  Helen doesn’t appear to have the same concerns. In fact, it almost seems like she’s going out of her way to announce their presence. Of course.

  Jon catches a glimpse of the staircase as he rounds the corner and – yes, there’s a door under the stairs. A plain, painted white door with a brass handle, otherwise unremarkable and entirely unassuming.

  And yet…

  As he tries to approach it, he finds himself rooted to the spot, overcome with a sense of trepidation. He feels his breath coming faster, shallower; feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Every one of the Archive’s eyes locks onto the doorknob and for a moment he swears he feels tiny, feather-light legs scurrying down his spine. He pulls his pack tight against him, using the physical weight of it to dampen the tactile hallucination.     

  “I hate it,” Helen says darkly. Jon jumps just slightly at the break in the silence, and a few of the Archive’s eyes suspend their rapt scrutiny of the door handle to glance in her direction. Her posture is tense where she stands, staring warily at the door as if it might lunge at them. Jon has never seen the Distortion look so… unsettled.    

  She’s right, though. The door is wrong. More than that, it’s the exact same flavor of wrongness that he felt the first time he saw A Guest for Mr. Spider, and again when he reached out to knock on the monster’s door.

  Back then, he hadn’t known that the concept of wrongness could be broken down into so many distinct subtypes: the uncanny disquietude of the Stranger feels fundamentally different from the compulsion of the coffin, the sensation of worms tunneling through flesh, the Distortion’s nonsensical corridors, the Lonely’s suffocating fog.

  The pull of the Web is in a class of its own, and the sight of the door in front of him drops him right back into the memory of the day he opened the book – the day he took the first step on the winding path that led him, inevitably, to this exact moment. It’s such a fitting parallel, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was orchestrated down to the finest detail. He knows the Web plays a long game, but precisely how much of what has happened was in perfect accordance with the Web’s plans? What even is the Web’s –

  No. Stop fixating on the Spider, he reprimands himself for the umpteenth time this… day? Whatever; it’s not important. He forces his legs to move.

  “You’re sticking your hand in a bear trap, I hope you know.” 

  “I knew opening the door was a stupid thing to do,” Jon says, nonchalant. “So I opened the door.”  

  Helen breathes a surprised laugh. “Was that a joke?”

  “The idea that this is all some grand cosmic joke,” Jon rattles off drily, “thousands of us running around spread horror and sabotaging each other pointlessly while these impossible unknowing things just lurk out there, feeding off the misery we caused –”  

  “Terrible.” Helen groans and puts her head in her hands. “Here I was, ready to compliment you on finally finding a sense of humor, and you have to ruin the moment with – with existentialist brooding.”

  Jon chuckles quietly to himself and takes another step forward.  

  “Wait.” Helen reaches one long-fingered hand in Jon’s direction, then falters and pulls back. For a moment, she seems to wrestle with whether or not to continue. “What’s behind the door?”

  “A scar in reality –”  

  “Yes, I know about the rift. What do you expect to find in it? An answer? An escape? A means of suicide?”

  “A metaphysical quirk of this new reality’s divorce from the traditional concept of time.”  

  Jon pauses, chewing on his bottom lip as he looks inward and browses through his catalog.

  “It bends and twists and returns to what it was,” he settles on eventually.  

  “I told you not to use my words.” Helen gives him a warning look, but it’s fleeting, because a moment later his meaning sinks in and she huffs out a short laugh of disbelief. “Wait – wait, wait, wait. You think you can… what, turn back time?”

  Jon grimaces and makes a noncommittal seesawing motion with one hand.

  “…could emerge back into the world that she remembered.”   

  Helen starts laughing in earnest now. “You think you can time travel?”

  Jon just shrugs, unashamed. He knows he should feel embarrassed – back when he first took the position as Head Archivist, he would have scoffed at anyone making such a suggestion – but at this point, is it any more or less unrealistic than anything else that’s happened?

  “Alright,” Helen says, stifling another giggle, “I’ll grant you that there’s a rift in space and time. People have traveled through it before.”

  Jon gives an enthusiastic nod. After her encounter with the crack in the house's foundation, Anya Villette had found herself temporally displaced. What would stop Jon from also –

  “However,” Helen continues, “what makes you think you’ll just rewind your position on this timeline? It could just take you to a parallel world, leaving this one behind to suffer and decay. Would you abandon what remains of humanity like that?”

  Seeing as Anya Villette appeared to have also been spatially displaced, Jon has already considered this possibility. Helen probably knows that, too – she’s well-acquainted with his tendency to overthink things. She’s just trying to tap into his chronic self-loathing, demoralize him, make him doubt his own perceptions. It’s a familiar pattern, one Jon used to submit to far too easily.

  “…better than staying here with this strange woman.”  

  “Ouch.” Helen brings a hand to her chest in mock offense. “You’re being awfully cruel today.”

  Jon flashes an entirely unapologetic smile.

  “I was being serious, you know.” A knowing mischief creeps into Helen’s eyes. “You’ve always been selfish, but would you really run away from your mistakes, save yourself and damn the rest?”

  Unfortunately for Helen, she’s arrived too late to this particular debate. Jon already spent the entire trip here berating himself and second-guessing his conclusions, and he’s just about gotten it out of his system for the time being. Self-recrimination as an inoculation against the Distortion’s manipulations – now there’s a concept, he thinks wryly.  

  “Do you honestly believe you deserve to escape an apocalypse that you brought about?”

  God, she’s persistent.

  “Now there’s only one thing I have left that I value,” he says simply. “That I love. And I cannot lose him.”  

  It’s the truth: the final deciding factor for him was, as it so often is, Martin.

  “You would potentially forsake this entire world just to reverse your own loss?”

  “There was nothing left to save.”  

  It never gets easier to admit it out loud, but that doesn’t change the truth of it. This world is already forsaken. Humanity is dying out, slowly but surely, and Jon harbors a guilty feeling of relief that their torment will not be eternal after all. As far as he can See, there’s no way for him to save the ones who remain. There never was.

  His power was never meant to help anyone. For a long time, the only action within his grasp was to hurt – and so, he went after those who deserved to be hurt, because the only other option was doing nothing at all. But seeking revenge never saved anyone, never even made himself feel any better. If anything, it only made him feel emptier, more and more alienated from whatever human part of him still lingered – and that was a very dangerous place to be.

  And when he and Martin decided together that he needed to slow down, to maintain some distance between himself and the Eye? Well… nothing substantial changed in the slightest. He didn’t get any worse, but he also didn’t get better. The world continued to suffer just as much as if he were to sit down and take no action at all. Nothing he did or did not do made any impact whatsoever.

  He Knows intimately that he cannot banish the Entities from this world as long as one person remains to feel fear. Once that last person dies, there will be no one left to save. Hell, depending on how human he still is by that time, he may very well be that last person, and the Dread Powers will just have to ration him. And why shouldn’t they? They’ve all had a taste of him more than once. He’s an unfinished meal. They could just resume hacking away at him, demanding their respective pounds of flesh one after the other until nothing remains – until finally, mercifully, the Fears themselves would wither and die as well. He just doesn’t want to consider how long that could take – no. Best not to dwell on it.   

  The point is, there is no future for this world. There is nothing left for him to do here. His only hope is to prevent all of this from coming to pass in the first place, and this… this is the only lead he has. And besides, Martin –

  “You do realize that you have a vanishingly small chance of seeing him again, don’t you?”

  “I decided to take a risk and try it anyway.”  

  Helen looks put out at his easy dismissal, but she really ought to know better by now, Jon thinks. He might be chronically plagued by self-hate and a visceral fear of being controlled, but Martin is his anchor in more ways than one. Their relationship is proof of Jon’s own capacity for free will, and his decision to go after Martin in the Lonely remains one of the only things he’s done where he’s never once wondered whether he made the right choice. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more confident about anything than he is about their love for each other, even if he doesn’t always feel like he deserves it. Helen really couldn’t pick a worse seed with which to sow self-doubt.

  When she sees that Jon isn’t taking the bait, she changes tack. 

  “And assuming this scheme somehow works as you hope it does, and doesn’t just get you shunted to some hellish pocket dimension – which it almost certainly will – you do realize that your little scene with Jonah Magnus will mean nothing, don’t you? This future will be erased, he will not suffer for eternity – he won’t even remember that it was ever a possibility.”

  “For all her anger, there was no thirst for revenge in the Archivist, only an eagerness to expunge an infection that had gone unnoticed for too long.”  

  “Then why bother confronting him? I know it wasn’t for closure – if you were at all capable of letting go or moving on, you would never have been a candidate for the Beholding in the first place, and we wouldn’t be here now.” Jon just barely manages to not flinch at that. Luckily, Helen doesn’t seem to notice that she struck a nerve, instead staring up at the ceiling in contemplation, as if trying to decipher Jon’s motivations on her own. “So, why? All those messy emotions it dredged up and for what – the drama of it all?”  

  “I live for the monologue,” he deadpans. 

  “Jonathan!” Helen gapes at him in exaggerated shock. “Was that another joke?”

  She could stand to tone down the condescension, Jon thinks. It isn’t his fault if people overlook his sense of humor just because they never think to listen for it.   

  “Are you certain about this, Archivist? You have a history of reaching these points of no return and choosing the worst imaginable path.”

  Even at the very end, the Distortion just can’t resist one last chance at undermining his confidence. Despite the cockiness underlying her taunt, Helen has a hungry, almost pleading look in her eye – desperate, like everything else in this place that feeds on fear, for scraps in the midst of a famine that will never be remedied.

  Jon reaches out and grips the doorknob with one hand.

  “Even the end of the world can’t stop you throwing yourself on a grenade. Can’t say I’m surprised. I’m not following you in there, though.”

  “Thank heaven for small mercies, I suppose.”   

  “I am trying to have a heartfelt goodbye, Jonathan,” Helen says, not sounding sincere in the slightest. “I doubt this will go as you hope it will, but I’m fairly certain that no matter what happens, I won’t be seeing you again. I won’t wish you luck, but… well, it will be interesting to see whether one of your half-assed plans might pan out for once – not that they ever have gone according to plan.” When Jon’s resolve remains strong, Helen sighs – and this time, her disappointment does sound genuine. “Well, if you’re sure…” She trails off, giving him one last hopeful look – once last chance to fall apart under her skillful denigrations – before her shoulders slump in resignation.

  Not content to leave it at that, though, she does offer one last parting shot: “Do say hello to the Spider for me, won’t you?”

  An involuntary shudder courses down Jon’s spine as he remembers Anya Villette’s statement – the massive spider legs reaching up to pull her into the crack in the foundation – and compares it with his own memory of the book, the door, and the monster lurking within. Helen breathes a contented sigh at his ripple of unease – basically a snack for her, at Jon’s expense. Fine. She can have that last little morsel of fear from him, as a parting gift.  

  “Sometimes you just have to leave,” Jon says firmly, turning the handle. “Even if what’s on the other side scares you.”  

  And, oh, it does.

  Miraculously, Helen allows him to have the last word. As he pushes open the door to the basement, he hears Helen’s door creak open in unison. By the time he’s staring down the stairs into the dark, her door has snapped shut and popped out of existence. 

   The staircase pitches down, down, down, stretching far deeper than it should. It’s too dark to see much of anything, and it takes a full minute of descent until he notices that there’s a slight curve to it. With every step, the air grows warmer and more stifling. The revolting sensation of walking through cobwebs becomes a constant, but any time he reaches up to brush away the web clinging to him, he feels nothing but his own bare skin.

  A few minutes in, his bad leg starts twinging again, and he holds on to the wall to steady himself. Before long, his mind begins to wander to the horrifying possibility that the staircase is interminable, and he’s overcome by an image of a funnel web spider waiting patiently for unsuspecting prey. He tries to push the thought away. Just keep moving.

  Between the lack of visibility and being lost in his own head, he doesn’t notice the sharp turn in the staircase until he plows right into the wall, a sharp pain erupting in his left shoulder from the collision. He throws one hand back to steady himself and only barely manages to stay on his feet, his bad leg protesting as he throws his weight into it. After briefly taking inventory of himself and experimentally putting weight on his leg again – painful, but not unbearable – he gropes blindly for the wall again and uses it to guide himself forward, more slowly this time. It isn’t long before the stone of the wall gives way to cool, damp earth, and he shivers with the memory of the Buried.

  After several more sharp, nearly 90-degree twists and turns, a faint glow starts to permeate the darkness. A few minutes later, the staircase opens up into a large, dimly-lit space, garlanded with spider silk. The ceiling, walls, and floor are composed of tightly-packed dirt, and Jon has to fight back a rush of claustrophobic panic at the thought of being surrounded on all sides by the crushing earth. It’s short-lived, as it’s crowded out by a much deeper, more primal fear when he sees the fissure in the ground ahead.

  It’s a repulsive, crooked thing, oozing with a pervasive, tangible feeling of wrongness. It should not be there. It cannot be there. And yet there it is, boldly existing where it has no right or reason to be, a gnawing, open, inflamed wound in the fabric of reality, pulling him toward it like a black hole. It’s a compulsion stronger than the coffin, an abomination more uncanny than the Stranger, a malice deeper than any Dark, an inevitability on par with Terminus itself.

  Jon hates it. At his first glimpse of it, every one of the Archive’s eyes fly open, greedily drinking in the oppressive presence of something so unfamiliar and anomalous, leeching off of Jon’s terror as he beholds it. The scrutiny is fleeting, though, as the sight of it turns corrosive and blistering; all at once, the eyes shrink away and retreat, like a school of fish spotting a bird of prey swooping down for a meal. It takes some of the edge off, having fewer eyes with which to see the thing, but it still weighs him down with dread and revulsion.

  Jon doesn’t know how long he’s stood there, staring unblinkingly at the fault line, before he senses a presence – something colossal and hungry and wrong, malevolence and foreboding given physical form – climbing inexorably toward him. He hears a faint rustling, the whisper of tiny avalanches of dirt scraped loose and sent sliding down the walls of the crevice. He knows exactly what to expect, and still he isn’t prepared when the first of the spider’s legs peeks up over the lip of the fissure.

     How is it that after a lifetime to process a childhood trauma, it still throttles his heart and squeezes the air from his lungs at the mere thought of it? How is it that, despite being the most formidable thing in this world outside of Fear itself, he feels as small and helpless now as he did on the day he met his first of many monsters? Why is he just standing here, letting those hairy, spindly limbs hover and curl around him like an enormous clawed hand, waiting for a fate that is as unknowable as it is inevitable?

  Focus, Jon thinks to himself. Listen to the quiet.

  He slowly reaches into his jacket and breathes a sigh of relief as his fingers close around the notebook safeguarded there. It’s Martin’s, full of poems and sketches and stream-of-consciousness journal entries. Jon has had it with him for a long time now, but he’s never been able to bring himself to look inside it. Martin would occasionally share its contents with him – mostly completed poems, and only occasionally works in progress, as he was always self-conscious about his creative process – but Jon doesn’t want to accidentally see something that Martin would have preferred to keep to himself. Martin might not be beside him right now, but he still deserves to have his privacy respected.

  Still, for Jon, just having it with him is a physical reminder of his anchor, and running his thumb over the cover grounds him in the present. He closes his eyes and looks inward.  

  The Archive gropes blindly for something solid amidst the noise, some elemental truth to serve as a starting point in the chaotic tangle choking this place. The edges of his mind brush against thread after thread and none of them are what he’s looking for. They stick to him, filling his head with cotton, making him sluggish and confused, obfuscating his sight. The Spider watches as he flails, becoming more and more snarled in the web.

  “I closed my eyes and remembered in as much detail and with as much love as I could muster in my despair,” he whispers to himself, anchoring himself in the truth of the statement. He swallows a terrified whimper as something coarse and fuzzy brushes against his face, and he weaves a command into his next words: “Eventually, I opened my eyes again –” 

  The Archive obeys, hundreds of eyes materializing on his skin and blinking open in the space around him, grotesque satellites of varying sizes all seizing on single question, and suddenly he can See –

  There.

  A single thread, out of place among the rest, pulled taut and leading down into the deep gloom of the chasm. He spares a brief thought as to its origin point – Is its anchor here, now, or do its roots begin on the other side? – before silencing it. It’s not a question that needs answering right now. The Beholding objects; Jon reflexively shuts it down and takes an aggravated swipe at the nearest cluster of eyes he can reach, like swatting at a swarm of mosquitoes. He doesn’t think it actually does anything concrete, but when they disperse it brings him a small measure of satisfaction all the same.

  He gives an experimental tug on the thread and – it feels right. That’s good, right? Well, he supposes it could be the Web trying to trick him into –

  God, he’s like a dog with a bone. He could be trapped in a burning building and find part of his mind wandering off to idly ponder the melting point of steel –

  …around 1370 °C for carbon steel; between 1400 and 1530°C for stainless steel, depending on the specific alloy and grade…

  – which, yes, he has done. It’s a good way to dissociate from a crisis. Unfortunately, it’s also a good way to get killed, and the giant spider is still there, Jonathan, focus.    

  He holds fast to the thread – make a path for yourself, tune it to the frequency you need –

  “Everything about being with him felt so natural that when he told me he loved me,” he tells himself, louder this time, “it only came as a surprise to realize that we hadn’t said it already.”  

  – and he follows it, stepping carefully around and between the spider’s legs. He has no idea why it isn’t attacking him – what if this is exactly what Annabelle – no. He shakes his head as if it will jostle the thought loose. Just be thankful for it and keep moving before the damn thing changes its mind.

  Moments or hours or perhaps days later, he’s standing at the precipice of the fissure and looking down. Several eyes are riveted on the massive hairy form poised above him, but most are staring into the unknowable darkness with a gnawing, longing fascination. He stands frozen in place, torn between an overwhelming urge to flee and an overpowering need to Know what’s down there: something new, something fresh, something different – any reprieve at all from the excruciating monotony of this nightmare world.

  The spider shifts above him. It’s now or never. He has nothing to lose, and if there’s any chance at all of changing this doomed future – of seeing Martin again…

  “Sometimes you just have to leave,” he reminds himself, shutting his human eyes tight, one hand clutching the notebook and the other clenching into a fist until the fingernails cut into the palm. “Even if what’s on the other side scares you.”  

  He takes one last deep breath, thinks of Martin – safe hands, warm eyes, gentle touch – and he takes a leap of faith.

   Jon can’t see anything. He can’t See, either. There is an incessant, high-pitched whine screaming in his ears and drowning out his thoughts. When he moves to put his hands over his ears, he realizes all at once that he can’t feel his body. He has no sense of up or down, no fingers to flex, no breath to hold, and – and he can’t See.

  It’s… terrifying. It’s liberating. It hurts, but in the same way that his first gulp of fresh air hurt after three days asphyxiating in the Buried.

  He doesn’t know how long he floats there in that near-senseless limbo, but between one moment and the next a blanket of fog drops over him and the shrill static is muffled. Through the haze, he can just barely make out a voice, coming from so far away – like he’s drowning, and someone is speaking to him from above the water’s surface. He drifts and listens in a daze as the voice cuts in and out.

  “– just – thought I’d – by. Check in – how you’re –”

  It’s a nice voice.

  “– really need you –”

  A safe voice.  

  “– Jon.”

  Wait.

  “– bad. I – how much longer we can –”

  Wait, it’s – that’s Martin’s voice.

  “We – I need you.”

  It’s Martin. Martin!

  Martin is here, he’s here – Jon doesn’t know where here is, but it doesn’t matter, because Martin is here, and – and Jon is so overwhelmed with euphoria that he isn’t actually processing what’s being said. Calm down, focus – focus on the words –    

  “And I – I know that you’re not –”

  Oh.

  “I know there’s no way to –”

  Oh, no.

  “But we need you, Jon.”

  All at once, Jon knows where – when he is.

  “Jon, please, just – please.”

  No. No, no, no, no –

  “If – if there’s anything left in you that can still see us, or –”

  Martin, I’m here! 

  “– or some power that you’ve still got, or –”

  I’m here, I’m here, I’m here –

  “– or, or something, anything, please! Please.”

  Martin’s voice breaks, and Jon’s heart fractures with it.

  “I – I can’t –”

  Jon can just barely make out the buzz of a phone and – oh.

  “I’m – I’m actually with him now.”

  Martin!  

  “You were right.” A pause, and a heavy sigh. “I – will they be safe?”

  Peter Lukas. It’s Peter Lukas. Peter Lukas is still alive, Peter Lukas is hunting Martin, Peter Lukas wants to feed him to the Lonely, Peter Lukas is –

  “Okay. Okay, I’ll do it.”

  Martin, don’t –

  “Yeah. Sure thing.”  

  Martin!

  “I’m sorry.”

  Jon tries to scream, to reach out, to do anything at all, but he doesn’t have a body and he doesn’t have a voice and he can’t See –

  “Goodbye, Jon.”

  Martin, look at me! Hear me, please - see me! 

  He tries to thread a command through the words, but the compulsion doesn't come through, and - 

  Jon hears the rustle of clothing as Martin stands to leave, followed by the soft click of the door as it closes behind him. 

  Fuck. 

   End Notes:

me: i could go into some long-winded exposition about the space-time continuum  also me: OR, alternatively, i can handwave it and say It's The Power Of Love, Don't Even Worry About It

anyway, my gay little heart knows what it's about.

 - Jon’s dialogue is taken from the statements in the following episodes: MAG 146; 054; 151; 139; 168; 101; 134; 010; 037; 008; 019; 167; 108; 103; 146; 048; 013; 146.

- Jon gets some original verbal dialogue starting next chapter. Thought I'd mention it just in case anyone is getting tired of the Archive-speak (though there will still be some of that). :P

- Psst, if you want to read a detour about Jon and Martin's talk about Annabelle and free will and Not Obsessing Over The Web, I wrote that here. (I'm linking it here because it actually originally started as part of this fic but I decided to make it its own thing because my ADHD brain ran with it and it was waaaaay too much of a tangent sdsdhshgh)

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #jonmartin #long post #spoilers through MAG 169 #tma spoilers

[dancerwrites]

the mark of an adventurer

Written for: Critical Role Relationship Week 2018, Day 2

Characters: Fjord and Vax’ildan

Words: 1.5k

ao3

Vax has seen many people pass through the Raven Queen's domain in his time there, but he always takes a particular interest in those who find themselves visitng time and time again.

“You must be an adventurer,” Fjord hears as he startles awake in a sea of black nothingness around him. He scrambles to his feet, looking for the source of the voice, and sees part of the black disengage from the rest, stepping forward into a non-existent light. A half-elven figure, pale against the darkness, the only color on him the beads strung on one side of his face and the faint purple shimmer of the feathers across his breastplate as he shifts and they catch the light.

“I’m sorry?” Fjord asks, too discombobulated to retain his drawl, but he doesn’t know this man as it is – there’s nothing to be gained by pretending.

“You’ve been here before,” the man says, quirking his head slightly. “A while ago, but not so long ago that I’ve forgotten. “Someone, or something, pulled you away, but for a moment… you were on death’s door.”

There’s a beat of silence before he sniggers, a hand coming up to cover his mouth, and Fjord is even more confused than he was upon waking in this strange place.

“Sorry,” the man murmurs, chuckling. “I’ve been here for a good while now, but you’ve got to do something to make the job interesting, you know? My Queen thinks it’s ridiculous, but tolerates it, especially since you won’t remember this if your friends succeed.”

“Your Queen?” Fjord asks, folding his arms across his chest and suddenly realizing his lack of armor, lack of weapons, lack of… anything beyond his body. “Hang on, my friends? What’s going on; where am I?”

He sends a hand out to conjure his Falchion – it has never failed to come when called – but his fingers close around empty air and he mentally recoils at the thought, returning to staring daggers at the man in front of him, who suddenly looks far more somber.

“My apologies,” he says with a slight bowing of his head. “I’m sure you’re very confused. Even with as much practice as I’ve had I’ve not got a smooth spiel down quite yet. Long story short, you’re on the brink of death, in the in-between.”

“I’m dead?” asks Fjord, never one to dance around the point, and he feels a coldness settle in his chest, almost like a sad sort of acceptance instead of fear.

“Not quite yet,” the man murmurs, eyes shifting from Fjord’s face to a distant point behind him. “Not that those wraiths didn’t try their best – we nearly had some of your friends show up as well.”

“Who?” Fjord asks urgently. “Wait, did they get out safely?”

He suddenly remembers the abandoned vault they’d been scouting, and the way they’d been ambushed by ghostly figures on all sides. They’d struggled to cut down the wraiths, and though Fjord’s sword had sliced through them, they’d seemed to take him as the primary threat and he hadn’t been able to fend them off.

“The Material Plane is fuzzy…” the other man hums, trailing off, still looking beyond Fjord.

He turns around to see what the man is looking at, but only sees a faint flicker of gold, like a loose thread dangling from Molly’s coat caught in the wind.

“They did away with the wraiths; I know that much,” the man says decisively after another moment. “And you’re the only one who showed up here. They should be safe. Don’t worry.”

Fjord releases a relived breath at the news.

“Granted, I think they might be calling you back sooner rather than later,” the man murmurs, nodding his chin toward whatever he’s looking at beyond Fjord.

He turns again, seeing the golden thread start to pulse. He hears Jester’s broken voice, clearly thick with tears, as she chants the incantation of a spell. It feels like he’s sucked up into the air for a moment, a sense of vertigo overcoming him as she continues, voice getting stronger as she presses on.

“You do want to go back, yes?” the man asks, drawing Fjord’s attention back to him.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

The man shrugs, though he looks, suddenly, much older. Fjord could also swear that his appearance didn’t change at all, but suddenly the man seems to revert back to his relatively youthful self, shrugging casually.

“No reason.”

“…Sure.”

They stand for a moment, staring at one another, Jester’s voice filling the space around them, before the man rolls his shoulders.

“Well, I really should be on my way, if you don’t need anymore help,” he says, giving a small salute to Fjord. “Plenty more souls to see, you know.”

“Is that what I am right now? A soul?”

The man looks amused by the question. “I mean, I guess? I don’t really know though, I just know that your soul is what moves on, or what comes back, whichever you decide to choose.”

“Interesting,” Fjord murmurs, and it is, but he also, suddenly, doesn’t want to be left alone in whatever this place is. “Um, if you wouldn’t mind me asking, who are you?”

The man grins at that. “So polite, that’s very good to hear. And I’m the right-hand to the Matron of Ravens – that is what you call her in Wildmount, yes? Her Champion, at your service.”

“It- it is, but do you have a name?” Fjord finds himself asking, Jester’s words still echoing from behind him. “Were you ever alive?”

The man’s grin falters, and he sighs, brow furrowing together in a sad sort of way, his smile falling into something more suited to nostalgia. “I was, once. But that was a long while ago, and no time at all. It’s a bit of a long story, to be honest.”

“And you died?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” the man asks, gesturing to the void around them with a faint chuckle. “Though, to be perfectly honest, that’s a difficult question. I nearly died a few times, then my sister died, then I helped bring her back, then I died except didn’t a couple times, and then I did die, but in serving my Lady I was able to help my friends before passing on, before coming to rest here.”

Fjord’s not sure what he was expecting for an answer, but knows it wasn’t the answer given to him. “That… certainly sounds like an adventure.”

“It was,” the man says with a nod, eyes trailing back to the thread behind Fjord. “There’s a reason I could tell you were an adventurer.”

He lingers for a moment longer before beginning to edge away. “I really should leave you with them – you’ll want to hear what your friends have to say,” he says, then seems to reconsider something, and steps back to Fjord, lifting a hand to place it on Fjord’s shoulder. The touch is cool, like a sea breeze coming off the waves after being below the deck for a few hours. “Best of luck, with the adventuring. Hopefully I won’t be seeing you again for a while.”

Fjord nods, and the man gives a nod in return, lifting his hand and turning to go.

“What’s your name?” Fjord finds himself asking again, making the man pause and look back at Fjord over his shoulder.

“What’s it to you?”

“Common courtesy?”

The man laughs, loud and full, filling the emptiness for a moment and falling silent after that. “You have been exceedingly polite, I’ll give you that,” he says. “And, I suppose, you won’t remember this anyway. Well, unless we meet again.”

Fjord looks at him expectantly, even as he feels Jester’s words shift somehow, the pulling in his gut growing stronger.

The man chuckles again. “My name’s Vax. With an “a”, not an “e”. Very important distinction.”

“Vax,” Fjord says, the name unfamiliar on his tongue. He’d think the Champion of a goddess would have a more ostentatious name, though he supposes it does fit in its own way. “Well, very nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you as well,” Vax says, inclining his head one last time before turning away. “Have a good life!” he calls over his shoulder, almost as an afterthought.

“Thanks!” Fjord calls back with a chuckle as Vax vanishes into the darkness, blending in until Fjord can only see the colorful beads in his hair sway with each step, then those disappear as well.

He turns back to the thread behind him, which he suddenly realizes is his own – his life laid out before him, stretching off into the darkness.

Jester’s voice suddenly finishes its chant, and there’s a pregnant pause when nothing happens before she says, “anyone who wants to go first can give the offering to the ritual, but I want to give something, and to go last. So… save me a spot, yes?”

Fjord can’t hear an answer, but takes a step toward the thread as if by getting closer he might be able to hear them better.

He’s surprised when the next words he hears are from Beauregard, but he feels a warmth at his chest, like a hand resting over his heart, and he knows that he’ll be heading back to his friends soon.

#critical role #critfic #critrole rsweek #fjord #vax'ildan #it's 5am as i write this post #and it's only late because my body decided to sleep from 10pm-2am #so that was unfortunate #i'mma queue this for the morning #but i already have day 3 started so hopefully that'll still be out on time ^_^ #hope you enjoy! #my writing #my fanfic

[dancerwrites]

inhalation (catch your breath)

I’ve had a lot of feelings about the most recent episode and just in general the past week. Have a rough sketch of some of them, from a certain rogue’s point of view. (written mostly at 3am and briefly edited/revised)

He knows some things after the battle is over, the fight finished, if not necessarily won:

His goddess’ presence weighs heavy on the city

It’s stronger than he’s felt before

He has an urge to honor the dead, to find a resting place for each body that fell

She tells him without words that he doesn’t need to worry about it

(there are bigger concerns; your place is with your family)

His vengeance for his mother, for his sister, for his family of blood is quenched

His vengeance for his family of choice still burns

Raishan is still out there with:

two eggs

Thordak’s body

He feels like he has failed

He dragged them all down into this mess

He started it

He failed to finish it

He wishes he was stronger

He knows now that he has to be

He notices several things after it all calms down:

Keyleth cries for their loss of victory and for his near loss of life

He comforts her

He sits and listens to her

She feels the same way he does

He’s not sure what that means for their next step

Percy clings to Vex’s side and his fingers don’t leave hers

He wishes they were his fingers

(he remembers their childhood in Syngorn, walking proudly down the street hand in hand, the two of them against the rest of the world)

He had seen it coming from a mile off

That doesn’t make it hurt any less

Everyone is subdued, withdrawn

Scanlan tries to joke but it falls flat

J’mon Sa Ord is quiet as they find a room in their human form

Vex is silent

She holds on to Percy’s hand

She gives him a smile when he asks her about it

(he knows her smiles – he can tell when they don’t quite reach her eyes)

Something is wrong

Pike’s hair is shorter on one side that the other

He wonders if it’s from the fire, the lava, or from something else.

(when he gives her a hug he realizes it’s clearly shorn, as if with a blade)

(he decides there has to be a reason)

(he decides it’s not for him to know)

He holds her as they both cry for the loss around them, for the war not yet won

He discovers a couple things when they retire for the night (when they have no other choice):

Keyleth’s face calmer in rest than in waking

He watches her for a long while, wondering about his vengeance and her vengeance, trying to parse out where they overlap

His night is not yet over

He feels a pull, a call, a caw of sorts, and follows it to the kitchen where his sister is sitting with a bottle

He makes his footsteps known

(she doesn’t hear him approach – she doesn’t turn, doesn’t remark)

He sits beside her and says her name like a question, because he doesn’t know where she is

(she looks up at him, teary-eyed, and shifts closer, curling into his side, taking his hand in hers, clenching it tightly)

He asks why she’s not with Percy

(she doesn’t answer, not for a long time, and when she does it’s not an answer)

“Percy died,” she says, after an extended pause. “Not today, but before.”

“He did,” he replies, waiting for her to continue

(she takes another drink)

“I died,” she says

“I remember,” he replies

(he remembers all too well)

There is another long silence

(she takes another drink, and he takes the bottle from her, stealing several sips for himself)

“Do you know what it’s like to die?” she asks, and while he’s searching for an answer she continues: “Has she shown you what it’s like?”

(he remembers a pool of blood, the feeling of drowning, of stillness, of the black void in which he met with her… he chooses his words carefully)

“She’s shown me her domain, the moment between life and death,” he says, “but no farther than that.”

(he feels her fingers squeeze his hand, and he looks down to see her knuckles white on the neck of the bottle and her eyes open wide, staring)

“Do you think there’s something after death?” she asks, quickly followed by: “Do you think Mother is in some sort of afterlife? Do you think she’s watching us? That she’s proud?”

(he squeezes her hand back)

“I’ve already told you that you’re the coolest person I know,” he says. “Nothing is going to change that, and I have a feeling Mother would say the same thing if she were here right now.”

“But is it a good place? Is it better than here?” she asks simply, without much inflection or emphasis

(he turns to face her and he sees the tears on her cheeks and the vacancy in her eyes and he gently removes the bottle from her hand, replacing it with his fingers as her gaze lands on him)

“What brought this on, Stubby?” he asks

She is quiet again

(her eyes search his face, some clarity coming back to them, though they are wide and almost sadder than he’s ever seen them

“I died again,” she says, “Today.”

(his heart stops; he’s sure of it)

It’s him who is silent this time

“I was up and down in the battle, but then I was out and I was drifting, and you say there’s a place with just her, an in-between, and I swear I saw her – I didn’t remember before, but this time- it was so quick this time, but I’m sure it was her, based on the descriptions I read-“

“Hey, shhhhh,” he says, “You’re back. Pike brought you back.”

(he pulls her into a hug, though they both know it’s just as much for his sake as hers, to disguise the shaking of his hands and the creaking of his voice)

“It wasn’t your time,” he says, “She wouldn’t have let you come back if it wasn’t your time.”

(his voice has enough conviction that, for a moment, he imagines himself with the unwavering faith he’s seen Pike have in her own goddess)

“No, of course not,” she agrees

They fall into silence once again

(he remembers shouting “Take me instead, you Raven Bitch!” into the cold emptiness of the sunken tomb, and he wonders if he will ever be able to pull through on the promise he made himself that day)

(she has died twice, seen his goddess face-to-face more than he himself has)

They say nothing for a long time

Until she pulls away with a sad sort of smile on her face and says:

“I love you. Please keep not dying.”

(he wants to say the same to her, but he can’t, so he stares for a moment)

“I love you, too,” he says, finally, “and please, try not to die again. I’m not sure my poor little heart can handle it.”

(they both know he’s half joking)

He realizes some things after they go to their own rooms:

Keyleth has never communed with the Raven Queen

(out of all of Vox Machina, she is the only one who has never met with her face-to-face, remembered or not)

He would like to keep it that way

(her face is peaceful in sleep)

(her light when she’s awake shines so brightly he fears what darkness it would leave behind)

The two of them are the only ones who have not been pulled from the mortal realm by her fingers

(he wonders if this is how Keyleth feels when she remembers her long life compared to the rest of them – the finality, the short nature of common lives)

(he imagines the two of them standing against death)

Were Keyleth at his side at the communion pool it would have been easier for him to face

(he can’t wish the experience of drowning in blood upon her)

(he remembers the warmth of her presence, of Pike’s presence, after he left the pool)

(he knows she will wait for him)

(he appreciates it)

He dreams when he falls asleep:

Ravens

(dark, mysterious, ominous)

Feathers

(soft, caressing, delicate)

Fire

(bright, warm, gentle)

(not like the fire of a dragon)

(not the heat of lava)

(vivid red hair catching the sunlight)

(cleansing, radiant, joyous)

#vax'ildan #critical role #critfic #vaxleth #critical role fanfiction #cr fanfiction #this took a different turn than it did when i first wrote it #but i can't complain #there's a lot of things that vax needs to deal with after that battle #that we all need to deal with #this obviously doesn't get at everything #but at least some of the things #perc'ahlia #background #i gave myself feels #poetry fic #wanted to get this up before the episode tonight #my writing