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intergalacticwanderer · 3 years

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It happened faster than any of them could react.

Overall, things had been going well. The sea monsters were on their last legs, they had the numbers with all of the Mighty Nein present, and it was only a matter of time before they’d come out on the other side. But in combat mere seconds can make all of the difference and one monster slipped through at just the wrong place and time, burying its claws into Kingsley’s back.

He swore, blood bursting from his neck and the monster’s eyes bleeding black, but it wasn't enough, the monster digging the claws in deeper and dragging him off of the ship, two of them going over the rail and into the ocean. He heard someone screaming his name, muffled through the water - and then the claws found his throat, and he didn't hear anything at all.

But something else started to happen.

He didn't know where he was. He knew, at the very least, that he wasn't in the ocean, his surroundings too indistinct and no longer able to feel the water around him. But even with being able to tell where he wasn’t, that still didn’t tell him anything about where he was. In fact, the only source of light Kingsley could see was - himself?

He looked down, startled, and saw that his own form seemed to be made of softly glowing light, a strange in between of tangible and intangible, floating in place. He... he didn’t understand. What was this? Kingsley raised a hand, both confused and awed at the sight.

The fingers began to disintegrate right in front of him.

He recoiled at the sight and the hand - HIS hand - broke apart even further, the once distinct outline now breaking into individual motes of light that slowly drifted away. He scrabbled with his other hand, as if to try and staunch a bleeding wound, but all that did was scatter the remaining bit of light from the hand even faster and he yanked his arm back. To his horror it was happening on other parts of his body as well, chunks carving out and being eaten away, motes continuing to drift, like paper burning into embers, or scattering sea foam, or or or - It felt like he should be hyperventilating. Was he hyperventilating? There wasn’t any sound, he couldn’t tell, could he even-?

Kingsley tried to hold on to his thoughts but they began to disintegrate too, and that realization, the fact that he could feel that happening, sent a bolt of terror through him even greater than the sight of what was happening to his body. He twisted in place, panic rising higher and higher as his body continued to disintegrate, looking for something, anything around him, but. Nothing.

The remaining parts of his legs and tail separated from his torso, stomach now gone, and while it felt like there should have been sound it continued to be completely silent, his thoughts reeling and disoriented as the parts spun away, quickly dissolving and scattering. What was- he couldn’t- who-

Further light scattered and so did his memories. His thoughts. His name. He drifted, motes rising up from near his eyes. Something from eyes. Tears? He didn’t know. Couldn't know. He was small, getting smaller, too small, no stop pleasenoPLEASESTOPNOPLEASE-

Sensation and clarity of thought slammed into him.

Kingsley (Kingsley!) gasped in a breath of air, coughing and shuddering. He was cold. Wet. Someone was holding him, cradling him between arms, one under his shoulders, the other under his knees, and his tail was dangling, limp. He blinked open his eyes. Two faces were directly above him, and there were glimpses of others in his peripheral, just out of direct sight but hovering close. The first face he could see was Fjord, wet hair clinging to his face and breathing heavily. He... he was the one holding him, wasn’t he. The second was Jester, shaking hands hovering over his chest and a faint shimmer fading from the air. He met her eyes.

“Jester...?”

A sharp inhale, and then a laugh, which turned into a heavy, wracking sob, and Jester buried her face into his chest and continued to cry. Others poured in then, crowding close with words of worry and comfort, but Kingsley barely heard them, still too stunned and numb from all that had just happened, and he didn’t react at all.

***

Over the next few days, Kingsley found himself in the company of at least one other member of the Mighty Nein at all times.

Fjord asked him for more advice and assistance around the ship. Jester sought him out even more than normal to ask about drawings, or tattoo ideas, or ship gossip. Caduceus invited him meditate. Caleb and Essek just happened to read their books nearby. Beau dragged him along to sparring practice, his complaints that he didn't even fight hand to hand normally falling on deaf ears. Yasha ended up clinging to him during sleep (though, in that case, he had been the one to initiate at least half of those). And Veth - well, he was pretty sure Veth was just straight up spying on him, but he didn't really begrudge her that.

Usually, Kingsley would have found the hovering his friends were doing to be suffocating, but this time? He sought their company right back, determined to not be alone.

There was no way around it - he had died. Full stop. That would have been bad enough on it's own but of course he had an... interesting relationship with death and revival, and it didn’t escape him that Jester had only started crying once he’d said her name. Like she’d been waiting to hear what his first word would be.

Wondering if that word was going to be “empty.”

He couldn’t tell if that made him feel better or worse. Better because they obviously cared about him, wanted him to be okay and to be the one to come back. Worse, because, well. Last time he’d been the one to come back saying empty. And they had to have gotten that fear from somewhere.

He sighed, pulling the blanket around his shoulders closer as he sat on the deck, watching the bright light of Catha above in the sky. Everyone was out on the deck at that moment, quietly talking after a late night meal and Caleb's dancing lights softly illuminating things along with the moonlight.

The main thing eating at him was the time in between falling into the ocean and the revivify spell, and he shuddered involuntarily at his mind’s word choice. He still didn't understand what that had been, but whatever it was it’d been terrifying, too strange to fall under normal experience and too vivid to “just” be a strange dream. The closest thing he had... his fingers tightened on his blanket. His reoccurring dream- nightmare- memory. Fighting in Cognouza, fighting back against Lucien, breaking free. Drifting away with hundreds of other lights. Drifting...

“Can I ask you all a question?”

Eight other heads turned to him, conversations stopping, and he had to fight to not shrink away. He was the one who’d asked.

“Kind of a morbid one but, wondering about who else has died here. You all know a lot more than me right now.”

He knew of a few past deaths. Glory Run Road. Those in... Cognouza. He wasn’t particularly fond of thinking about any of those from his perspective, however. Better to hear stories from others.

Several of them glanced between each other. Essek was the first to speak up.

“Personally, I have been lucky enough to not require any resurrection magic, and I hope it will remain that way in the future. I believe the same is true for Beauregard?”

Beau nodded. “Yeah. It’s gotten close a couple times but I’ve never actually died. Still kinda shocked at that, honestly.”

“I think I’ve died in a dream? Or maybe it was a vision...?” Yasha said, and when she got multiple confused looks she shrugged. “It was a trial from the Stormlord? I’m not really sure if it counts.”

“Let’s call it an in between,” Kingsley said.

“There’s the time I drowned and came back as a goblin,” Veth said quietly and the mood immediately dropped. She took a long drink from her cup. “And I guess there was also that time in the Happy Fun Ball.”

“Which is why we always check for traps,” Caleb said, giving her a pointed look.

Veth waved a hand in the air. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Checking blast radius is also important,” Caduceus said, sipping on his cup of tea. “I was too close to an exploding crossbow bolt once,” Caduceus said matter of fact, and Kingsley was gobsmacked at how serene Caduceus was at having literally been blown up. Then again, it was Caduceus, so he shouldn't be that surprised.

Veth bristled. “Hey!”

“Not assigning any blame, just stating what happened,” Caduceus said and he took another sip.

Three people left, and he already knew what the answer could be from two of them. Jester met his eyes and he gave her a little nod. He was okay with them talking about it.

“The only one I’ve had was when we were fighting Lucien,” Jester said, hands resting in her lap. “It happened really fast, but Caduceus got me back up, and Fjord protected both of us. It was still pretty scary, though.”

“I also went down to Lucien, but later in the fight,” Caleb said. Essek looked particularly miserable at the reminder and Caleb gave him a squeeze on the shoulder. “But the Mighty Nein does not leave anyone behind, so I was okay. And the same is true for you,” Caleb said, giving Kingsley a meaningful look and a nod.

Kingsley nodded back, relieved both at the reassurance and the reminder that they never considered him to be the same as Lucien. Sometimes that was enough against the images of them lifeless below him.

(Sometimes.)

Fjord was the last one left, and he downed the rest of his drink before looking Kingsley directly in the eye.

“I died the first time we were attacked by Uk’otoa’s minions.”

Kingsley gave a start. “Wait, really?”

Fjord nodded. “Really.”

“But- that doesn't make sense.” Fjord was the captain and Uk’otoa attacks, those were just- they were just a thing. An annoying and very dangerous thing, sure, but what had happened to him, that was his fault, he hadn't been careful enough, or-

“Kingsley.”

Fjord still held his gaze, not looking away. “What happened the other day is not your fault. If anything, it’s mine.”

“It totally is,” Veth added in and Fjord sighed.

“Regardless, don't blame yourself. I died to just the same thing and it can happen to any of us. And taking care of this problem is why we’re all on the ship right now anyway.”

“Cheers to that,” Beau said, raising her cup in a toast. “I’ve had enough murder fish for my lifetime.”

There was murmured agreement around the group, several others draining their cups and Kingsley staring at the bottom of his when he finished. So that was six. Two thirds of the Mighty Nein had died at least once, himself included, and Fjord even had a similar cause of death to this last time. Definitely not alone. And yet...

“Do you remember anything? From when you died?”

He didn't look up from his cup but he could just imagine the amount of eyes that would be staring at him right now. Whatever, it was already out there.

“A little,” Fjord said. “Mostly just that it was cold, and feeling scared, but...” Fjord’s voice softened and Kingsley looked over at the change in tone. “I also feel like the Wildmother would have been there to catch me. And that’s comforting in its own way.”

Kingsley nodded, mind going back to the scent of a warm sea breeze. Even though he wasn't a follower himself he knew of the comfort that Fjord spoke of.

Which just made him feel even more miserable in that moment.

“So... nothing else? No kind of visions or anything?” No disintegrating and losing everything while completely alone? His voice cracked a little, no longer able to hide his anxiety.

“Nothing in particular.” Fjord frowned. “...are you alright, Kingsley?”

“... not really, no.” He was too worn out to lie at this point and he hunched over, pulling his blanket even tighter.

“Is that what happened to you Kingsley? A vision?” Jester asked.

“Yes? Maybe? I don’t know, vision isn't quite right, but- I don't know.”

“Well, how would you describe it?”

An involuntary shiver ran up his spine. “An experience, I guess? But not a good one, and if anyone ever tried to sell me that kind of ‘experience’ I’d straight up stab them.”

Kingsley went to take a drink before remembering he’d already finished his and he scowled at his empty cup. Caduceus passed over another one without a word and Kingsley murmured a small thanks, taking a long drink to wet his suddenly dry throat.

“I was made out of light or something like that? But-” His throat closed up and he had to loudly clear it to keep going. “I started to disappear. Like I was just a bunch of dandelion fluff and-” he mimed an explosion with his fingers- “poof. Just blowing away. And it wasn't just my body, it was my memories too. I think Jester got me just in time.” It took a moment for him to realize he was shaking.

“C'mere,” Yasha said quietly, moving closer and holding out an arm, Kingsley almost falling into her side and curling close. She held him in her arm and rubbed his shoulder, his shaking slowly subsiding. There was a stunned silence for several moments.

“What the fuck,” Beau breathed out, finally breaking the silence. “That’s so fucked up.”

“And concerning,” Essek said, a curled finger hovering over his mouth. “I have never heard of anything similar, even in death accounts from consecuted individuals. Caduceus?”

“I also have no idea,” Caduceus said, frowning. “Either way, that doesn't sound like how it should go. Not to me at least.”

“Or me,” Veth said, eyes wide. “Dying’s bad enough, that’s- that’s just excessive!”

“This isn’t exactly making me feel better,” Kingsley grumbled. Sure, it was commiserating, but mostly it was just reminding him of how alone he was with what happened.

Yasha squeezed his shoulder. “Well, what would make you feel better?”

“Answers,” Kingsley said without hesitation. “Just... what the hell that was. Or why it happened. Just something.” He curled further into Yasha’s side, his head and tail now the only things peeking out from under the blanket.

“I can research, but it will have to be after the voyage,” Caleb said. “I do not have a personal archive unfortunately.”

“Yet,” Essek added on, giving Caleb a quick smile. “My ability to help is limited but I could still assist with some of this research.”

“And I’ve got the Cobalt Soul stuff of course,” Beau said. “So, definitely a more long term thing but we’ll find out what we can.”

“Thanks guys,” Kingsley said quietly. He wasn’t a fan of the wait but just the chance of answers and the fact they were willing to do it still meant a lot.

All through this Fjord had had a hand on his chin, contemplative, and he looked over at both Jester and Caduceus. “Maybe you two could ask for some godly input? It’s worked before and it shouldn’t hurt at least.”

Caduceus nodded “I say it’d be worth trying out.”

Jester nodded as well. “Yeah! It’d be nice if we could get some answers right away. You want us to give it a shot Kingsley?”

“Please,” he said, latching onto the mention of ‘right away’ and pushing away the small shiver at directly asking the gods for help. That sort of thing was the entire reason he was even alive at all, but even when it was positive the idea of it still freaked him out a little. That didn’t mean he was going to pass up the help however, and he looked at the two of them expectantly.

Jester looked over at Caduceus. “You want me or you to go first?”

Caduceus gestured towards her. “You go ahead.”

“Okay!” Jester said, and Kingsley watched as she brought Sprinkle down from her shoulder and held him in front of her. “Okay Artie, if you’re there, we could really use some answers about what happened to Kingsley, it’d be suuuuper helpful.”

The moment Jester finished speaking Kingsley found himself hit with a sudden wave of tiredness, and as he slipped into sleep at Yasha’s side he saw one last glimpse of Sprinkle’s eyes flashing a brilliant green.

***

The first thing he heard was the quiet shuffling of cards.

He found himself sitting in a room. A tent? The lighting was soft, coming from a few candles scattered around the space and a lantern in the shape of a crescent moon hanging from the ceiling. Colorful cloth was draped from the walls (or was the walls, if the guess about the tent was correct), and while the colors were muted by the low light he saw it was mostly blues and purples, with a splash of red or silver here and there. The sound of shuffling cards came from the back, where a woman sat behind a low table and fanned out a set of cards in front of her, gave a satisfied nod, and shuffled the cards back into the deck, Kingsley catching a brief glimpse of one that said “The Dream” before it disappeared from view.

The woman was wearing a red coat.

She looked up, caught his eye, and smiled. “It has been awhile, has it not?”

Kingsley was unable to speak, heart in his throat but he nodded anyway. He recognized her, would recognize her anywhere, but he had never expected to actually see her again. That dream he’d had in his first day had been precious but fleeting, starting to fade even at the time and he’d resigned himself to never fully knowing what it’d been about. The two parts that had managed to stick with him were the sad angel and the woman in the red coat, and while the angel had been revealed to be Yasha no one had known anything about the woman, and over time he began to wonder if she had been based on an actual person at all. And now here she was.

She placed the deck of cards down on the table and gestured for him to come forward, Kingsley moving up to sit cross legged on a red plush cushion, setting down gingerly and his tail curling up next to him. The fact that he had fallen asleep just before this told him that this should be a dream, but at the same time it felt as if it were something more. Something important. Clasping her hands together on the table she held his gaze, expression serious.

“Normally, I would deliver this kind of message through a reading, to avoid saying too much and to allow ambiguity in the meaning. But what I must say is important enough to be blunt. Your soul is fragile, Kingsley Tealeaf.”

Kingsley swallowed hard. He didn’t know who she was, not really, but absolute truth still rang in her words. “W-what does that mean?”

“In practical terms, returning from death is far more dangerous for you than some of your friends.” She opened up her hands and in between them was a ball of softy glowing light. “If your soul is returned to life quickly enough, as it was this last time, there may not be too many complications. But if you are dead for too long...” At her words the ball of light shuddered and then it scattered just like Kingsley remembered and he flinched back, breathing heavily, having to catch himself on one of his hands as dozens of motes of light rose up around them and then dissipated. She brought her hands back together, looking at him sadly. “I am sorry you had to experience a portion of that. It is not something I would wish on anyone.”

He slowly brought his breathing back under control and righted himself on the cushion, emotions stuck between a giddy rush at the fact that Jester’s intervention seemed to have actually worked and terror at the reminder of what had happened to him. Not to mention that something was wrong with his actual soul itself, so, plenty more potential terror and possible nightmares for him there. But for right now, at least...

“Is there anything I can do to... ‘fix’ my soul? And do you know why it’s like that?”

“For your first question, it will mostly just take time.” She cupped her hands in front of her, smaller motes of light reappearing and coalescing until once again she held a ball of light, and she lifted it up to float above their heads, the space around them now brighter. “The longer it has, the better it will be. It is both as simple and as complicated as that, unfortunately.”

“As for the why...” She spread an arc of cards out on the table with one hand and smoothly flipped them over with a pass from the other, but instead of individual cards it was a picture that continued from one card to the next.

“The journey your soul has gone through is far from normal. In fact, some would say it is astonishing that it exists at all.” She trailed her finger along the edge of the card created artwork, narrating as she did so.

“Your soul began with the sundering of a different soul, life springing from death when none should have been there.” A body pulling itself halfway out of a grave, hands scrabbling on the ground, red eyes shining in the face but also on the body. “This soul fragment may have started as just one piece of a larger whole, but something important happened. It changed. And it grew.” Hands helping the purple tiefling to stand, him walking forward and gaining additional color and vitality with each step. Tattoos, jewelry, vibrant clothes, the gaudiest coat imaginable. A bright and happy smile. “The love and experiences your soul had, both good and bad, allowed it to become a full soul in its own right, separate from where it came from.” Helping out at a circus, performing. Blood flashing along blades and becoming ice in an early taste of combat. Sitting side by side, content, with a certain aasimar. Riding along in a cart with the aasimar and five other individuals, sun low on the horizon. “And then... an end.” Blood stains on snow by a road. A coat placed on a staff, fluttering in the wind. “But not the end.”

A new arc of cards was laid down and revealed below the first, with a new artwork. “The soul that yours originally came from was brought back, and it had forcibly reclaimed your soul.” Four figures standing next to an empty grave, the body of the purple tiefling rising into the air and surrounded by magic. “At first, it seemed that your soul had been subsumed.” The group of five, purple tiefling in the lead, bundled up and trudging through a harsh winter landscape. Bodies left in their wake. “But your soul had become its own, and because of that it could no longer slot neatly into place.” Two tieflings sitting across from each other, one purple, one blue, three tarot cards suspended between them. The purple tiefling standing in front of a circular gate before eight other individuals, many of them from the prior artwork. “Your soul fought back, and it eventually helped to free itself from its prison.” Screaming at those eight from a changed body, nine eye stalks coming from the back. An even more monstrous form, torn in half by its own hands.

One final set of cards was placed. Revealed.

“Your friends then attempted to return your soul. But it failed.” A body lying on the ground, partially covered by the gaudy coat and bisected by a new scar. Eyes closed. “It took a prayer to the Wildmother and her intervention for it to be successful.” The same body, standing, eyes open, the ground now covered in greenery and flowers. “However, your soul did not come out unscathed. Not broken, or missing parts, but... injured.” The body now shown as an outline, filled with glowing light. Light that was rough around the edges, shot through with spiderweb cracks. “The time it was forcibly shoved in with originating soul, and having to separate itself out from it again, was traumatic.” A large pair of hands, each hand holding a source of light, one angry and boiling, the other small and dimmed, but warm. “Still the same soul, but changed by the experience. Needing time to relearn. And to heal.” The purple tiefling sitting in a lush graveyard garden, surrounded by both flowers and friends. Sailing on a ship, hanging from the rigging and hair tossed in the wind.

She pulled back, resting her hands on the table. “Your soul is whole, and your own, but less... stable under stress, as it were. There is no way to know for sure, since it has not happened, but I suspect that if you were brought back after a longer period of death you would be in a similar state as to when you woke in the city, due to the healing your soul would need again. I do know however that your friends would do everything they could to return you from death.”

“They would,” Kingsley said, without even thinking about it. His attention was still stuck on the cards. The artwork, as stylized as it was, captured a certain life to it. It felt... real. Alive. But at the same time, something felt off. Something missing.

“Kingsley.”

He startled, as if released from a spell, and he closed his eyes and let out a long breath. When he opened his eyes again he saw her giving him a concerned look. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I, ah. Thank you?”

Her concern didn’t fade.

“Something about this troubles you.” Not a question. A statement of fact.

“Are there other art cards in that deck?” The words spilled out of him. “I mean, they’re gorgeous, and they worked really well, but, are you sure there’s not more?”

She tilted her head, gaze growing sharp.

“There are if you want there to be.”

Something about the way she said that made him pause. He looked down at the cards again. Three rows.

Three names, he realized.

The last one, Kingsley. Him. His body, his soul, himself. The second, Lucien. Most definitely not him, and she had confirmed that as well with differentiating the souls, even with the strange situation of the shared body and his nightmares. And the first... Mollymauk. A different name, a different life, but according to her, the same body. The same soul. His hand gripped his knee, nails digging in.

His soul was his, and Kingsley would fight anyone who implied otherwise or tried to take that away. He knew from experience, however, that he might not have a choice. His eyes lingered on the second set of cards. Flicked to the first for just a moment.

“... maybe not.”

She inclined her head, and nodded. Her hands hovered over the cards and he made a go ahead gesture, and she scooped them up, one, two, three rows, shuffling them back into the deck.

“I admit, I am not accustomed to speaking of things so plainly,” she said lightly as she shuffled the deck. “Partially due to preference, and partially due to limitations I am often bound to. But a prior... interloper decided to facilitate as a way to make amends.” Kingsley saw a flash of another card, this time with a silver dragon, but it was gone too quickly for him to read the title. “It is difficult to judge the character of one such as him, but he was actually the one to ask for help first.” A small laugh. “Luckily for him, this was something I had wished to do anyway. He simply made it easier.”

Kingsley was almost positive the interloper she spoke of was Artagan, but that just raised even more questions. He’d known coming into this that she was mysterious, and that she had to get her answers from somewhere, but the fact that Artagan had been the one to ask her for help?

Another shiver ran through him, even stronger than the one he had pushed away on the ship. Caduceus and Jester would go to their gods when they needed help. So that meant that if one their gods (or sort-of-god, when it came to Artagan) asked someone else for help, that person was...

“I understand if you can’t answer, but. Who are you?”

The shuffling of the cards stopped.

“Do you want to know that answer?”

She was giving him an out. It was probably even a good idea for him to take it.

“Yes.”

He wasn’t going to take it.

She smiled again and set the now shuffled deck down on the table, drawing the top card and handing it to him. Moon and mirror, with the moon facing him, though with one key difference from the card in Jester’s deck - the crescent moon was strung like a bow.

Kingsley stared at the card, heart hammering in his chest.

“...I’m really sorry, but I have no idea what that means.”

She blinked, taken aback, before noticing his slightly manic grin and she burst out laughing.

“I think you almost believed that yourself for a moment,” the Moonweaver said and she graciously accepted the card when Kingsley handed it back to her, him immediately going and sitting on his hands afterwards to hide their shaking. “Unless you’d still prefer for me to say it out loud?”

“Nope, I’m good,” Kingsley said quickly. He was totally good right now, not panicking at all, nope. He got a raised eyebrow at that response, but her smile was still there as well and she didn’t press him.

Kingsley’s leg bounced as she placed the card back into the deck, having to actively work to keep his breathing steady. On some level, he knew that his perspective on the gods and faith was a bit skewed. Fjord sailed the seas with the Wildmother’s blessing. Caduceus had performed literal miracles with the Wildmother’s help (and, once again, one of those was the entire reason he was even alive at all). Yasha was a full fledged champion of the Stormlord. And proper god or not, Jester was still outright friends with Artagan.

In comparison, his own tentative explorations towards faith and the gods had felt like they didn’t really count. He’d learned about the Moonweaver, and her commandments had resonated with him, so he’d decided to follow them. He didn’t actively worship, or ask for blessings, or go out of his way to do things on her behalf. Instead Kingsley mostly just lived his life, sending a small prayer when it felt right and taking some comfort in the light of the moons. That was it. The big stuff, that was what his friends did. They were the ones who...

He looked around at the rest of the tent again, trying to distract himself. With his new knowledge he saw nods to the Moonweaver throughout, most of the decor having been subtle enough on its own to escape attention the first time around, though, okay, maybe the lantern hanging from the ceiling was a bit on the nose. It was an understated but beautiful space, and just one more reminder that he was talking to a literal actual god right now.

Maybe that hadn’t been the best way to try and distract himself.

Her casual comment of ‘something I had wished to do anyway’ spun over and over again in his head, him trying to figure out what the hell that even meant and dread growing at what it could mean. It didn’t make sense. Why-

“Why me?”

He’d just said that out loud. Fuck.

Kingsley looked back to her and nearly jumped when he realized that she’d been staring at him the entire time, swearing several more times in his head and wondering if he’d just pissed her off. But instead of anger her expression was soft.

“Why not you?”

Whatever he’d expected to hear, it hadn’t been that.

His brain stalled. There were so many things he wanted to say in response. So many things he knew he should NOT say in response. But she hadn’t said anything else yet, simply watching him and her hands resting on the table. He slumped, bringing his hands back to his lap.

“Because I’m not actually who you think I am?”

That got him another raised eyebrow, but this time there was no accompanying smile, and he quickly continued. “I know I’ve met you before, in that dream, but that wasn’t- I wasn’t even me yet. I didn’t know who I was s-so it makes sense that you were there for someone else.” Fuck, he knew this was a bad idea, second guessing the decision of, once again, A LITERAL ACTUAL GOD, but the sour sick fear that had been growing in the background was finally too much for him to ignore.

“Mollymauk, right? You said yourself that he’s where my soul came from and what if I'm just-” His voice cracked, and he hastily scrubbed a tear away from the corner of his eye. “I know he was a follower of yours, and he did a better job than any of the half measures I’ve ever sent your way, so. That’s why not me.” Kingsley couldn’t hold her gaze anymore and he looked down, eyes boring into his lap. “And maybe you were there for me, originally, whoever I was. But I still fucked that up anyway.”

A couple frustrated tears dropped down and landed on the back of his hands, Kingsley feeling like he was about to scream. His soul was HIS. He was Kingsley. He was himself. He knew who he was. He was. He was supposed to know who he was. He...

(Breaking apart. Disintegrating. Motes of light drifting away).

A hand cupped his check and his breath hitched, and then his breathing almost stopped entirely when a gentle kiss was pressed to his forehead.

“Time for that later,” she murmured, and then she was pulling back, tilting his chin up with her hand. She was kneeling in front of him, just a couple feet away and table now gone.

“Yes. Mollymauk is where your soul is from. And yes, my first visit in that dream was to see you, in part because of the sacrifices you had made in Cognouza, and in part because of a life lived in full and prior faith. But there is something important you must understand.” She held his gaze, not looking away. “You are not inferior to Mollymauk. You are not a mistake. And you do not have to fear losing yourself and becoming him, because he has already become you.”

Her hand cupped his check again, and she smiled softly.

“You are Kingsley Tealeaf. And I am so proud of all that you are.”

Mollymauk was... him?

Kingsley swayed in place. He didn’t know whether to cry, or to laugh, or what even to do at all. Instead he just sat there, feeling lightheaded at what had just happened. He wasn’t dead for disrespect. She had actually listened to him. Reassured him. Her. A god.

“I think I need to lie down,” he said weakly.

She gave a small laugh, withdrawing her hand and Kingsley slow motion flopped onto his side, before rolling to his back and staring at the ceiling. There were stars embroidered in the fabric up there. He hadn’t seen that before.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her sitting down next to him, leaning on one of her hands. “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” he said. He could almost pick out some constellations in the embroidered stars.

“Good.” She played with one last tarot card in her free hand, just barely visible to him. A sun rising over a grave. Dawn.

Slowly, almost so slow that he missed it at first, the lights in the tent started dim. Eventually the only light left was a faint glow from the crescent moon lantern, and, to his quiet awe, the embroidered stars themselves, silver threads glimmering with magic.

“There are only a few more things left for me to say.”

He tilted his head to look in her direction. Even in the low light he could still see her clearly, and he realized she was actually the final source of light in the space, her white hair and blue skin giving off a faint luminescence.

“If a day comes where things are not fast enough, where others are not able to reach you in time and you cannot remember with your mind, remember with your heart like you did once before. Even when starting over, a home and a family will still be waiting for you.”

She glowed a little brighter, surroundings starting to fade.

“Hopefully, by the time you pass on your soul will be healed enough that you no longer have to worry. But if that is not the case...”

She leaned down, held his face in both of her hands, and placed one last kiss on his forehead.

“I will be there. Shine bright, my little monarch.”

He closed his eyes, for a single blink-

-And opened them to the deck of The Nein Heroez.

“-I told you, I’m not the one who knows. I just sent him along to someone who does, he’ll be fine.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t smite you,” Kingsley croaked and Artagan whirled around, pointing at him.

“See! I told you, he’s fine.”

Jester gasped. “Kingsley!”

“Welcome back,” Yasha murmured, and she gave him a hug with the arm around his shoulder.

“Wait, smite? Who the fuck did you send him to?” Beau said, shooting Artagan a look.

“Well! It looks like my work here is done,” Artagan said, completely ignoring Beau and clapping his hands together. “Just let me know when you need something again Jester, tah!”

He vanished in a swirl of green cloak before Beau could get another word in, and she groaned.

“Ugh. He didn't even do anything himself.”

“Yes he did!” Jester said, and she looked at Kingsley. “... it did work, right?”

“... yeah,” he said, a little dazed, and he reached up to touch his forehead. He was going to need time to process that. A lot of time.

“See! He did do something!”

Fjord gave him a thoughtful look. “Who did he send you to? You seem a little overwhelmed.”

“T-the Moonweaver.”

That got everyone’s attention on him at once. A couple of them blanched.

“... you were not kidding with the smite comment,” Caleb said, eyes a little wide.

Essek looked around at the group and everyone’s expressions. “Being sent to a god is notable, but I feel I am missing some additional context here.”

“We um. Miiight have had a plan where Artie pretended to be the Moonweaver?” Jester said.

“It went badly,” Fjord said bluntly.

“As in dragged off into the sky in chains badly,” Veth added on.

Essek blinked, then shook his head. “I should not even be surprised anymore.”

“I was pretty surprised the first time I heard about it,” Kingsley said, shrugging. “And I only heard about it cause of all the times the ship docked at Rumblecusp. I think you're good.”

Essek gave him a wry grin. “Well. I am glad I am not the only one to hear about things after the fact.”

“You get used to it,” Caduceus said, smiling. “And we’re all here now, so, you don’t have to worry about it this time.”

“True enough,” Kingsley said and he stretched, sitting up straight but still at Yasha’s side.

“What did you learn?” Yasha asked.

“Well... the main thing is she said my soul is. Fragile? And that if I’m dead too long I might forget things again. But she also said it’ll heal after enough time so it’s not all bad?” Her last words to him, about what she would do if it hadn’t healed yet, echoed in the back of his mind.

“It’s still not great though,” Beau said, sitting with her arm resting on a raised knee. “She tell you any way to fix it sooner?”

He shook his head. “She just said it’d take time.” After a second he glanced over to Essek and Caleb. “And I don’t think she meant your kind of stuff. Sorry nerds.”

“Magic cannot fix everything,” Caleb said. “As much as we might want it to.” He was lost in thought for a moment before Essek squeezed his hand, Caleb returning the gesture.

Kingsley took a moment to inhale the ocean air, grounding himself, before fully flopping back against Yasha like a cat and she chuckled, starting to comb her fingers through his hair.

“What else did you guys talk about? You were gone for a while,” Jester said.

Kingsley hesitated.

He didn’t really know why he was hesitating. Maybe he was afraid. Of what, he wasn’t sure, but that fear that had bubbled over while talking to the Moonweaver wasn’t totally gone. And maybe it was the fact that he still didn’t know what to make of things himself yet. But he also remembered the words she’d said towards the end, that even if he forgot, he would still have a family. And a home.

(An even more distant memory. Of him asking for home, and Jester saying yeah, we can go home).

He saw Caduceus watching him out of the corner of his eye, expression knowing, but the cleric didn’t push, and that was what made the decision for him. The Mighty Nein was his family. And they would be there for him no matter what.

“Well,” Kingsley said, pausing for dramatic effect. “To start, she was wearing this red coat...”

He launched into retelling, knowing that he had his family, his home, and that his heart would remember for as long as he would need.

#Critical Role #cr spoilers #Kingsley Tealeaf #Mollymauk Tealeaf #Mollymauk #The Mighty Nein #The Moonweaver #Critical Role fanfiction #my writing #things get better for him don't worry #he just gets mildly traumatized first #AO3 link in reblog

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saphirered · 3 years

Note

Verin + artificer S/O? Essek (begrudgingly) brings him to meet the Nein and while everyone is say hi they hear a loud boom and out stumbles from their room/lab S/O cover in ash and soot. They say hi to Verin and he just looks over to Essek and is like 'why didn't you bring me here sooner?!' thank you!

Once upon a time I was taught chemistry. I recall next to nothing but hey, maybe someone will recognise the chemicals and reaction causing the boom. I hope this turned out the way you wanted! 😘

“Essek will be here any minute! Hurry up!” You hear Jester shout as you almost spill the contents you’re mixing. Luckily you avoid burning a hole in the table of the lab. Nott might have your head if you ruined her alchemy equipment again.

“I’ll be there in a minute! Just finishing up here and then I’ll clean up and join you!” You shout back putting the vial back in the stand as you watch the fluids mix and swirl together. Taking out your tools you us it to heat up the vial carefully. You don’t need to set up a proper flame. Besides, it doesn’t even need to boil. Arcane flame. Much quicker.

The divines must be looking over you as the vial does not shatter. You set it at the burner to keep the contents at a constant temperature and move on to the next part of your experiment. Time for some powders. Now it’s key they do not come into contact with the liquids in the vial so you set that one out of the way in a safe place before you grab the powders you’ll need.

Goggles and gloves on, tools at the ready you set two beakers apart. With your tools you scoop some grey powder from one container and put it in the one beaker. You close the container and put it to the side before moving onto the next one containing bright yellow pebbles. You take a few and get ready to powder them when-

“Hurry up they’re here! They’re here! They’re here!” Shouting and violent knocking on your door makes you jump out of your skin, the yellow rocks dropping into the beaker with the grey powder, your elbow knocks over the vial from the burning spilling the contents on the desk, ignited by the burner like a fuel trail. You try to snatch the beaker from the desk but it’s already too late.

“Oh shit-“ You take cover casting a quick spell to protect yourself from the blast shattering the beaker in an explosion that should be audible a blocks away. When you get up your goggles are covered in dust and ash from whatever the flames reached. Yep… Nott’s gonna kill you if Caleb doesn’t get to you first… Hope he didn’t have any of his precious books laying around here….

Your ears still ringing you lift the goggles from your eyes giving you visual of the carnage left. You take off the gloves and quickly put out the remaining flames. Oh shit! you’re having guests! Rubbing at your ears trying to get your hearing back to what it’s supposed to be, you stumble to the door slightly disoriented. Opening the door you’re met with some familiar faces, and a new one.

Caduceus had already put aside whatever tray of tea or food he had been carrying and got ready to heal. Caleb is trying to contain the urge to run in and make sure his precious books are alright. Nott’s already screaming her equipment better be fine or you not just owe her a new set but also several fluffernutters to make up for the emotional damages you’ve caused, whatever that’s supposed to mean. Jester joins her at the mentions of receiving fluffernutters. Beau’s laughing her ass off and upon seeing you’re alright Fjord joins her with a light chuckle. Essek looks completely unfazed if not a little worried.

Then you see the other drow. There’s definitely similarities between him and Essek so you feel safe to assume this must be Verin Thelyss. Damn. He’s handsome too… And just your luck you just fell victim to the carnage of your experiment. So much for first impressions. Here you stand covered in ash, dust and sooth probably looking like a maniac or some sort of mad scientist. Oh god… You’re staring. Can he see your staring? Oh no…

You quickly brush off your clothes trying to get rid of the worst of the mess and walk up to the two drow with a bright smile offering a hand to Verin.

“Hello. You must be Verin! Pleasure to meet you.” You look down at your outstretched hand to see it also covered in the grime from your desperate attempt to make yourself look somewhat presentable. You’re about to retract your hand but Verin takes it anyway and shakes it to your surprise. There’s a bit of a mischievous grin visible.

“It’s my pleasure. You must be the artificer my brother neglected to mention dabbles in alchemy. The pleasure is all mine.” Verin certainly expresses an interest in you, or your work. You’re not entirely sure if it’s both or either and you don’t dare to assume.

“Brother dear, you have no excuses for not introducing me to your friend before.” He directs at Essek as he takes your held hand and links it through his arm.

“Not to be rude but I’ve found myself with a special interest in alchemy. Would you mind sharing your work?” Verin asks you and you look at the others. Some raised eyebrows but before you know it you’re pushed into the lab by a little blue tiefling.

“Yes yes! They’d love nothing more than show you all their work and other things!” Jester wiggles her eyebrows and makes a face as you look behind you in confusion.

“You’ll owe me a fluffernutter.” She whispers at you as the door is closed behind you and Verin and you’re left in the mess that is the laboratory.

Verin certainly expresses an interest in your work and has some basic understanding of alchemy. You catch him stare at your more than once, enthralled by you going of on a rant about storing components properly as to avoid situations like this happen.

“-and you see, it’s so difficult to get these specific components here I’m certain I’ve bought up the stocks of every seller in the city at this point yet I still do not have enough to complete this.”

“I happen to have some connections outside of the city. Perhaps I can help you find some or persuade the kind professor to allow you access to their stocks.” Your eyes light up at the offer.

“That would be absolutely amazing! You’d really do that for me? I mean no offence but we’ve only just met like an hour and a half ago?” You’re looking for the loophole or the strings attached to his offer. Usually this stuff doesn’t come for free. Especially not something so generous.

“See it as an opportunity to get to know you better. With your consent of course.” Maybe you should be glad there’s still the remains of sooth you couldn’t wipe away just yet hiding an onset blush. Jeeze. You feel like a school girl what’s going on and how does this man know exactly how to woo you. Charming, intelligent, nice, a good listener that actually shows interest in your passions? You’re not going to pass on that opportunity.

“With an offer like that; consent, permission and attention. You got it all, handsome.” You laugh only half joking. Does this count as flirting? Maybe it does… This is why you’re not the charismatic one.

“It’s settled then and maybe we can discuss your work more thoroughly in the future. I fear I’ve been a terrible guest to your friends.”

“I’m sure they don’t mind.” The two of you begin making your way back to the rest of the Nein and Essek, the latter of which seems relieved no further disasters occurred when letting his brother leave his supervision with you.

By the time Essek and Verin had to take their leave to return to their duties again you bid them farewell. Before departing Verin stops in front of you and clasps your hands between his.

“I’ll see you soon to make good on my promise?” A little caught off guard you can already see the plot spinning in in Jester’s head and Caleb wonder how you’d managed to charm your Thelyss quicker than he had.

“Yeah. See you soon.” He squeezes your hands before letting go and bidding the rest of the Nein farewell. You’re left there standing watching the Thelyss brother go until the door closes.

“Oh. My. Goodness!” Jester’s halfway through planning yours and Verin’s wedding already. Beau pats you on the shoulder for getting in the pants of another hot-boi. You assure her that’s not how you spent your time with Verin. Not yet, she assures you.

“I-uh should just go clean up the mess now…” You try to excuse yourself and for the first time you’re happy Nott’s still upset about her equipment as she begins dragging you off to the lab.

“Yeah! You better!” The goblin screeches.

#critical role #critical role x reader #critrole x reader #essek thelyss x reader #essek x reader #essek #mighty nein x reader #mighty nein

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princessamericachavez · 3 years

Text

“I told your mother I would look after you,” he says, soft but earnestly.

Jester’s heart melts a little. He’s always so gentle around her mother, so nice and gentlemanly... but nothing like the other men she’s seen around the Ruby. The way Fjord treats her mama is different, there’s a deference to it and a care that make her feel full of warm fondness.

The comment sends her back to a far off night, to laughing down Nicodranas’s streets and a quiet diner at her home. She wishes she could go back to that night. Everything seemed so much simpler.

Before he died, before Artie was nearly taken away, before she was faced with an impossible choice, before Lucien and Uk’otoa and ghostly cities. She wishes she could erase the worry in his frown.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine, Fjord,” she promises. “We always are.”

He doesn’t seem contempt with her white lie. His eyes fall and his face twists with a quiet kind of nervousness. When Fjord’s eyes look back up, they are steady and resolute.

“I care very much for you,” he says. It’s not a question or a suggestion or a vague hint to something more. It’s a fact. He meets her eyes and just says it, like it’s both the simplest and most important thing in the entire world.

Jester’s breathing hitches in the back of her throat. She can barely squeak out a, “really?” too small to quite encompass her disbelief.

Fjord nods, ever so slightly, then drops his eyes again. She tries to read him, figure out whether he regrets saying it or if he could possibly actually mean more by that, or maybe he just means it as a friend. Maybe. Her own chest is too shaky to understand what is happening, she feels her insides vibrate like a buzzing beehive. And he is still looking down. She wants to see his eyes again, she wants to see him smile.

“Is it because I have chiseled cheekbones now?”

It works. He smiles up at her.

“It’s the longer horns,” he says, voice rough.

Her own voice sounds wavery as she laughs. “Yeah, it really does it, doesn’t it?”

“It gives you an intimidating look,” he quips.

Jester giggles, because the idea that she could be scary at all seems so insane to her. She tries to find a funny answer, but before she can she feels his hands carefully wrapping around her waist and pulling her in.

Her feet stumble forward despite the gentleness of his pull, until she’s pressed flush against him, both hands on his chest to gather her balance. Jester looks up at him, with her heart turned into a hummingbird and her head spinning with his warmth and his closeness and his breath against her skin. She’s read countless books with scenes like this but never did she stop to consider how hard it was to think when you were being held by the man you’d been helplessly in love with for months.

One of his hands cradles her cheek, ever so gently.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispers.

It’s terrifying. It’s everything she’s wanted for so long, everything she’s hoped for, everything she’s been too afraid to admit even to herself, everything she has been running away from for so long... and here it is, right in front of her. Real and better than any dream.

She finally manages to nod.

Fjord doesn’t move immediately. Instead, he brushes a hair off her face and leans in ever so slowly, until he is so close that their noses are brushing and she can feel his tusks brushing lightly against the corners of her mouth. She pushes in for the last half inch of the way, standing on her tiptoes to better reach his mouth.

Fjord tightens his hold around her waist. She grabs a fistful of his shirt and giggles gleefully against his mouth before melting into the gentle warmth of his lips.

When they finally pull away, her head is spinning and her chest feels lighter than it’s been in weeks.

“I don’t- I don’t know how this will go, but I can’t promise that I’m gonna let you just throw yourself at this thing. I don’t think I can do that,” he lets out a breathy laugh, like even the idea seems impossible to him.

“I don’t have an argument,” she shrugs, still giddy.

She means it. As much as she wants to stop this thing, to fight back and safe the world, she also wants to survive, to live, to go back to her mama and to spend more time with Fjord. So if he’s going to have her back, to run with her into danger and protect her (not like a knight in shiny armor, but like him, like he always does), then she’s happy to have him for the ride. Whatever happens, neither of them will be alone. And if they do this together, who could ever stop them?

#fjorester #critical role #cr spoilers #fjord stone #jester lavorre #sofia's nonsense

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professorthaddeus · 3 years

Text

Out of Sight

This is a companion piece to @io-kj-cr‘s heartbreaking fic, Decisions, an AU of 2x128 where Caleb gives himself up to Trent. Would highly recommend checking it out!

also on ao3

——————————

They let him go.

The chips were down, they were out of options with enemies at the door, Mama and Yeza and little Luc were not going to be trapped in a building with Icky-thong, and in that moment of weakness, they let him go.

“Cad, what do you see?” Fjord, grim. Caduceus is standing at the one window in the room, chosen for his keen ability to read people to keep an eye on the exchange.

The exchange. They’re selling Caleb back to the grossest person in the Empire, to his literal lifelong tormentor, and they’re just sitting here like it’s nothing.

“They’re not hurting him. They’re just talking.” Caduceus’ voice rumbles in a steady cadence, ever the rock in the rapids. But Jester sees how his knuckles are clenched white around his staff.

“Is he… how does he look?”

Veth, piping up from the floor, clutching Caleb’s spellbooks to her chest. Yeza’s holding her, Luc sitting uncharacteristically still by their side. He’s got a book in his hands as well. Jester’s heart thuds painfully when she recognizes the title as a collection of Zemnian fairy tales.

“He’s standing tall.”

Of course he is. They’ve all seen Caleb file away his fears and stitch himself together in the moments that really count. They’ve also seen him shake apart immediately afterwards.

This time, none of them are going to be there to help him pick up the pieces.

“This doesn’t sit well with me,” Yasha says quietly, fingers twitching toward her swords.

“Yeah, no shit.” Beau, pacing, coiled like she’s ready to pounce. “This was such a bad plan. I say we go ahead and attack them now. They’re busy with Caleb, so we could absolutely ambush them in a pincer move, or—“

“They’re gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?” Beau rushes to the window, where Caduceus is stepping aside. He leans back against the wall, looking lost in a way Jester hasn’t seen since his first time on the sea.

“I mean he and his friends stepped into a portal and disappeared.”

Beau’s jaw tightens. “They’re not his friends.”

“I don’t know,” Fjord murmurs, though Jester knows he would definitely be fuming as well if Beau wasn’t so close to the edge right now. “They did warn us they were coming.” He holds up his hands when Beau shoots him a withering look. “It could be a good thing. They might help us get him back.”

“With or without their help, I wasn’t kidding when I said our next step was going to be a jailbreak,” she mutters.

“Agreed.”

Veth lets out a shaky breath. “And he’ll be okay until then. He just has to hold on for one night, and we’ll go get him. He’s the smartest, most capable of us all; he’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, he’s way more powerful than them,” Jester adds, automatic. Something twists in her chest.

“Sure, except he doesn’t even have his fucking spellbooks.”

For once, Veth flinches instead of snapping a retort back at Beau.

“You keep these safe for me until I return, ja?”

“I don’t like this, Cay. There has to be another way.” There’s a tremor in Veth’s hands as she takes the books.

“There isn’t, and we are running out of time. Besides, he won’t kill me. He… ah, he has said many times already he simply wishes to talk.”

Jester winces. It’s going to be a long time before she forgets the haunted look that appeared in Caleb’s eyes every time Trent’s voice slithered into his ear today.

“Be good for your mother and father,” Caleb’s saying, ruffling Luc’s hair.

He straightens to look at the rest of them, meeting their eyes one by one. Jester can almost hear him counting in his head.

A wall slams down over his expression as he squares his shoulders.

“I am so sorry about all this.” He continues before any of them can protest. “Thank you all.”

Jester tries not to think it sounds like a goodbye.

She shoves the image of Caleb’s pale, determined face out of her head, swallowing the building lump in her throat. The last thing she needs—the last thing Mama needs—is for her to break down right now.

“Well,” she hedges into the silence, “he’s got like, a really good memory, you guys. Maybe he doesn’t need them. Maybe he remembers all his spells.”

“I don’t—“ Beau starts, before taking a deep breath. Yasha’s hand is slipping into hers. She softens her tone. “I don’t think that’s how it works, Jes.”

“Oh.”

“Jester, I’m so sorry.” Mama speaks up from where she’s been sitting anxiously beside her. There’s so much regret in her face. “Your friend, he—”

“No, no, Mama, no.” She’s been so strong today, and Jester’s so, so proud of her for facing her fears, but she never should have been forced to do it. “This isn’t your fault at all. We brought them to you.”

Technically, she brought them here. Caleb can blame himself all he wants, but Jester’s the one who put a target on Nicodranas in that letter to Astrid all those months ago and the one who dropped Mama’s name into a conversation with an enemy guard just a few hours ago.

“Who… are they?”

“They’re, um.” Her voice wavers. She swallows again. “They’re bad people. Really, really bad people.”

“Oh, my Sapphire,” Mama hums, and it’s kind of crazy how those three words can sound like music from her lips. She reaches up to cup Jester’s cheek. “You and your friends are some of the most amazing people I’ve met. “And you,” she brushes her thumb gently across her skin, “are more creative than anyone in the world. You’ll find a way.”

Mama presses a kiss to the top of her head and then takes her hands. They’re smooth, warm. Jester looks down. Red and blue, just like when she was little, except now her hands can’t be fully covered by Mama’s. She’s grown up and stepped out of Mama’s arms and the sanctuary of their Chateau. Just like she always dreamed and plotted with Artie. It’s all she can do not to cry.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right,” she manages, tries for a watery smile.

“Jester,” Yasha ventures gingerly. “Can’t you talk to him?”

She shakes her head, blinking away the blurriness. “Not until tomorrow. I don’t have the energy left to cast a spell.”

Caduceus clears his throat. “Good.” The rest of them look to him, startled. “Now there’s nothing to do but get some sleep so we’ll be ready for tomorrow. Mr. Wensforth, can you help us set something up for the night?”

The poor goblin looks up from where he’s been wringing his hands in the corner. Jester doesn’t blame him.

Man, Yussa’s gonna be super pissed when he wakes up to find so many people in his tower.

She can’t imagine how she’s supposed to fall asleep, but Caduceus makes her drink some tea, and eventually she feels the tension of the day seep into her bones. Before it claims her consciousness, she brings the symbol of the Traveler to her chest.

“Artie, look out for him, okay?”

———

In the morning, Beau and Caduceus wake her and the others, careful not to disturb Mama, Yeza, or Luc.

Jester tucks the blanket around Mama a little more securely before heading out.

They all cluster together in a smaller room off of one of the tower’s winding stairwells. Caduceus starts passing around breakfast, but she declines, sitting in the middle of the floor instead and prepping a familiar spell.

Fjord gives her an encouraging nod, holding ten fingers up at the ready.

She focuses on the image of her friend, on the furrow in his brow as he wields magic like a weapon, on the way his eyes crinkle when he offers one of his soft, rare smiles. She fires up Sending.

“Caleb! Are you alright? Where are you? Are you hurt? Are you in Rexxentrum? I’m sorry, I had to wait until today to Send to reach you but we’re—”

Fjord’s nudging her, signaling the end of the spell. Jester blows a strand of hair out of her face, tapping her fingers against her knee.

She waits five seconds, ten, a minute. No response.

She bites her lip. “You guys—”

Beau’s there already, tugging her into a hug as Fjord gives her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Veth lets out a muffled noise of frustration.

“He could just not be in a place where he can talk freely right now, we don’t know,” Caduceus says evenly.

“Maybe I should try Astrid?”

Beau shifts, but she doesn’t let go. “I dunno, man, I don’t trust her.”

“She loves Caleb,” Veth says, but again, none of her usual ferocity is there.

“Yeah, maybe.” Beau’s face darkens. “And now she has him back.”

Her words hang heavy in the air.

Jester shakes herself. “Look, fuck it, I’m just going to do it.” She takes a deep breath.

“Astrid,” she chirps. “Is Caleb with you? Tell him to talk to me when he can. Oh also, if any of you hurt him, we’re totally gonna find you and make sure you never—”

“That’s it, Jester.”

“You should send another one. Let her hear the end of your threat,” Yasha says, and Jester swears she can hear thunder roll beneath the mild suggestion.

Fjord cracks something resembling a smile. “As entertaining as that would be, I think—“

Jester shushes them as Astrid’s voice comes back.

Good morning, Jester. Bren is well and unharmed. He is here with us and under no restraints or compulsion. He is home now.

Jester growls.

“What did she say?”

“That Caleb’s okay and like, he’s home, or some total bullshit. She’s wrong, obviously.” She has to be. Jester ignores the building pressure in her chest, flicks her wrist to cast again.

“Please, tell me something, tell me anything, tell me you’re fine, or dead, but please, we need to hear from you, we need to plan our next moves and we can get you out of there as long as you just—” Fjord squeezes her hand. Stupid, stupid spell with stupid word limits.

Nothing on the other end anyway. Her eyes sting, and this time, Jester doesn’t try to stop the sob in her throat.

“I’ll keep messaging you, please Caleb, we’re scared and worried, please tell us where you are, we can fix this, we can get you back!”

Finally, finally, Caleb speaks.

I am well, Jester; returning was my decision, and I am unharmed.

He sounds so tired.

I need you all to stay away. Stay safe. I am sorry.

Silence once more.

Jester’s messages have reached across thousands of miles, over oceans and barren wastelands and enemy lines. This is the first time she’s felt the yawning distance the magic has to travel.

She swipes at her eyes, glaring through her tears.

She knows what he’s doing. It’s what he’s always done, protect and shield and give and give and give like it’s all he’s good for. But she’s also seen him start to unfurl, seen him laugh more and trust more and take one careful step after another out of the shadows of his past. He knows he’s part of their family. They just need to help him remember what that means.

“He said something,” Veth guesses.

“Something awful and self-sacrificing?” Beau mutters.

“Yeah.”

Jester pushes back her sleeves, and she can feel a breeze drift into the chamber, the rustle of a green cloak at her side.

“It doesn’t matter. We’re going to get him, now.”

#critical role #jester lavorre #caleb widogast #marion lavorre #beauregard lionett #veth brenatto #fjord #caduceus clay #yasha nydoorin #my writing #jester's pov was such a challenge to write omfg #also juggling 6+ characters in a scene for my first cr fic haha #any feedback is much appreciated as I find my footing w these characters #also a huge thank you to io-kj-cr for inspiring me and giving me permission to post this!#my ramblings #cr fic

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ofsinnersandsaints · 3 years

Text

Pebbles and Sparky

rating: G

word count: 3955

one shot

Fjord knows where Sabian is, and after a long and drawn out negotiation with the Plank King, the Mighty Nein is allowed 24 hours to find Sabian, get their business done, then get off the island.

Or, Fjord and Jester corner Sabian and scare the shit out of him in order to get the answers Fjord desperately needs

Special shout-out to @humble-wayside-flower for the nickname Sabian has for Fjord 😘

AO3

Fjord sat next to Jester in the inn’s dining room with the rest of the Mighty Nein around them as they tried to decide the best way to get to Sabian.

They were on Darktow, having been able to barter their way back onto the island after getting exiled months before. The Plank King had given them 24 hours to take of their business and get off, but if they made any noise, or were in any way disruptive, they would have the entirety of the pirate community after them.

Keeping their heads down and not making a wave wasn’t exactly the Mighty Nein’s strong suit.

Jester had scried on Sabian once they were at the inn, and had been able to narrow his location to a particularly raucous bar in the middle of town. Fjord was worried the second his old crewmate spotted him, he’d run, so they needed a way to figure out where he was and what he was planning.

“I’ll go in,” Beau offered, leaning forward with her tankard in hand. “Get a lay of the land, see if I can get eyes on him. I’m a criminal, I’ll fit in.”

“Hey,” Jester cut in, clearly offended. “We’re all criminals, Beau. We were pirates.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Beau apologized. “But that’s like, water criminals. I’m also a land criminal, I’ll just go in like I’m a wine smuggler. Give me twenty minutes.”

Two minutes of debate later the group agreed to let Beau in go alone, but Veth would trail her and keep in contact with her via message spell so if anything happened, the group could come to her aid.

“Stay safe,” Fjord encouraged as Beau adjusted her cloak, before they’d landed she’d switched it from the Cobalt blue to the plain brown to better fit in.

With a nod, and a quick squeeze of Yasha’s hand, Beau left. Jester scooted her chair closer to his and reached over to take his hand, her body pressed against his. “How are you doing?”

“It’s weird,” he admitted. “Been running towards this for a year, and suddenly I’m a couple of minutes from seeing him again.”

“It’ll be over soon,” she reminded him. “And then you don’t ever have to look back again.”

Fjord wished he could be that optimistic. “Your mouth to the Wild Mother’s ears.”

“I know,” she dug into her backpack. “I’ll draw tarot cards for you.”

He smiled as she pulled out her deck and shuffled them. Fjord didn’t particularly believe in tarot cards, but she loved doing it so much he wasn’t about to dampen her fun by telling her that. And it was fun to see her get so excited about the cards she drew, about finding meaning in them. The way he figured it, it wasn’t much different than him meditating or Caduceus doing communion.

When she looked for answers, this where she found them, and occasionally she found them for him too.

“Cut,” he told her because they’d done this half a dozen times by now.

“Okay, this is for the past,” Jester turned the card over. “Ooooh, it’s the Bed & the Hearth.”

Despite the fact they’d been together for months now he still blushed when she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at him. “The bed is up which means rest and comfort, but the fact that it’s empty means there’s decisions to be made. Which you’ve done,” she reminded him. “We’re here, we’re looking for Sabian. The next one is the present.”

He told her when to cut the cards. “This is a good card! It’s the Sword & Shield.”

According to Jester, every card was a good one, or an interesting one, but Fjord played along. He threw his arm along the back of her chair. “What does it mean?”

“It means,” she stared as she turned the pages in her little book to find the right section. She read a couple of sentences before hitting him on the leg, proof of her excitement. “The shield is up which means you’re standing up for your beliefs. It’s an indication of protectiveness, but it can also mean you’re under attack.”

Fjord didn’t believe in tarot cards, but shit did they get it right sometimes. “I don’t suppose those cards tell you whether or not I’ll succeed?”

“We’ll do a card for the future, that’ll tell us.”

He looked over her shoulder as she revealed the last card. “Storm & Sun, haven’t we seen that one before?”

Jester nodded, “The storm was up last time, but this time it’s the sun.”

“Sun is good?”

“Unless you’re Yasha, she wants to get this card with the storm up. But for you,” she quickly read the paragraph and he watched the slow smile curve across her face. “Healing, progress, and overcoming hardship. It’s good, Fjord.”

She leaned forward and kissed him. “We’re going to be okay.”

“Well, then.” Oddly enough, the knowledge and her certainty made him feel better. “Here’s to being good.”

Jester spent the remaining time doing Yasha and Caduceus’ tarot cards, and just on time Beau walked into the dining room looking confused and maybe a little angry. Veth came in a step behind her, grinning like an idiot.

“You okay there, first mate?”

Beau sat down and drank almost an entire tankard before she looked at him. “He hit on me.”

Fjord smiled at the confused and slightly offended tone to her voice. “Is he still alive?”

“Yes,” she assured him with a roll of her eyes. “He didn’t even use a good pick up line. Does that shit actually for dudes?”

He shrugged, “Sabian’s always done well with the ladies, but I always thought he was a dick. He was a one and done kind of guy.”

“He’s slick,” Beau judged. “And not in the good way. His accent sounded kind of like your old voice, but less drawl, and more clipped. I don’t like him.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Seven of us,” Caleb corrected. “What did you gather from him?”

“He didn’t give away much, but he’s not here for anything good, I can promise you that.” She reached out and took some food from Caleb’s plate. “He’s got a meeting for later though. When I turned him down he hit on some guy at the bar and they made arrangements to meet up in thirty minutes.”

“They’re going back to Sabian’s place,” Veth added. “That would be a good place to corner him.”

“We can all go,” Caleb offered. “A united front.”

“Yeah, and I’ll hide in the shadows and put a bolt in his ass if he so much as sneezes,” Veth added gleefully.

Fjord smiled, but shook his head. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, and I’d feel better knowing you lot were hovering nearby. But…But if it’s alright with everyone, I’d like to talk to him one-on-one to start.”

“I’m going with you,” Jester announced, her narrowed eyes daring him to argue with her.

“Of course you are.” Her expression immediately softened, grinning as if she’d just won an argument he’d had no intention of starting. “If anything goes down, Jester can send an SOS.”

Caleb and Beau looked at each other and after a moment they both nodded. “Okay, but we’ll stay close by, just in case. Ja?”

Fjord nodded and grabbed Jester’s hand as they both stood up. “We’ll talk soon.”

Together he and Jester walked towards where Beau and last seen Sabian. Apparently he’d been living here for a while, which meant there was a better than good chance he’d been here during their brief visit before. What would he have done if he’d known?

“Do we have a game plan?”

Fjord snorted at the question, “No. Should we?”

“Beau would probably have come up with one,” Jester shrugged, but she didn’t seem particularly concerned.

“Probably shouldn’t start out with punching him.”

“Probably not,” she agreed. “We can try being nice.”

He thought about it for a second before shaking his head. “No, he wouldn’t buy it.”

“Then we play it by ear,” she decided. “We’ll see what his reaction to seeing you is.”

“I’m kind of hoping he shits his pants.”

Jester laughed and swung their intertwined hands back and forth. “Me two. Get it? Two.”

“Excellent pun.”

“I thought so. Do you think he knows about the bounty hunter?”

“Probably not, Kotho seemed pretty damn good at her job.”

“Then we’ll definitely have the element of surprise.”

Fjord nodded and kept an eye out for the people leaving the nondescript building a couple doors down from the bar. It only took a few minutes for the half elf to emerge, instantly recognizable with his dark skin and easy swagger. It was bizarre to see Sabian so unchanged.

The past few months had utterly change Fjord, he was stronger, better, and yet Sabian looked almost exactly as he had the morning of the shipwreck. Lean and rangy, he was stronger than he looked and quicker than anyone else on the Tide’s Breath.

Fjord walked along the sidewalk, Jester at his side, and then crossed the street to put himself in Sabian’s way. The half-elf orphan with a quick simile and shuttered eyes widened when he realized who he was looking at.

“Well, well. If it isn’t my old buddy.” Fjord watched as Sabian took in the entire scene, saw those dark eyes dart around as if to make sure there weren’t more people hiding in the shadows. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Sabian’s charm was almost a match for his own, but Fjord immediately caught deception in the casual greeting. Whatever Sabian felt, whatever he’d planned for the night, he was jut a little scared at the sight of Fjord suddenly in front of him. “Nice to see you survived.”

“You as well,” he smirked and tucked his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “Not scars, I hope?”

He had three, but Sabian he said, “Nothing I couldn’t survive.”

“Seems you found some treasure at the bottom of the ocean,” Sabian pointed out as he looked at Jester. “Sabian Flint, at your service.”

Jester’s voice was flat as she met the sailor’s eyes. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

Fjord barely held back at a laugh at her response. Instead he took a step towards his old acquaintance. “I have some questions to ask you.”

Sabian shook his head. “It’s in the past, let it go.”

“Let it go?” Fjord demanded, anger rising to the surface at the sheer lack of concern in Sabian’s voice. “Those sailors died, they’re gone, men we served with, worked shoulder to shoulder with for years. They had people who loved them, who miss them, and they deserve answers. I deserve answers.”

“Calm down, Pebbles.”

The nickname wasn’t new, and neither was the patronizing tone, but Fjord was more than willing to let it slide off his back. His girlfriend apparently had other ideas, as he saw a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye. He barely had a chance to wrap his arm around Jester’s waist before she socked Sabian in front of a crowd.

“He’s not worth it, Jessie.”

She struggled for a second, and they both knew if she wanted to she could escape, but she eventually settled. “It’s Captain Tusktooth, you asshole.”

Sabian smiled, as if he was looking at a small kitten showing its claws. Fjord was more than a little tempted to release his grip on Jester and let her beat him to a pulp, but it might be a better idea to let him think they were weak. The Mighty Nein would prove Sabian wrong if it came down to it.

“Captain, huh? Got a ship of your own?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, but didn’t elaborate. He didn’t want to give Sabian any more information than was strictly necessary. “And a crew. None of whom would stab each other and then blow up the ship.”

“You really don’t understand,” Sabian shook his head as if disappointed in Fjord. “And you never will.”

“I understand more than you think.”

“And yet you still felt the need to track me down to ask me questions? You’re as clueless as you’ve always been, Pebbles. But you know what they say, ignorance is bliss. Enjoy your bliss, and your lady friend, and stay out of my way.”

Fjord watched Sabian turn around to walk away, and he couldn’t think of anything to say to stop him. Aside from physically detaining him, there wasn’t much he could do.

“What did he promise you?” Jester asked to Sabian’s retreating back. “For every soul Uk’otoa gets, he gives you a little more power?”

Sabian stopped walking, his entire body seeming to have frozen in place. Slowly, he turned to face them both. “Excuse me?”

Jester snorted and crossed her arms in front of her. “You think you’re the only person who knows about the snea snake? Because you’re not.”

“He can’t be that high up,” Fjord added. He had no idea how Jester had connected those dots, but now that she’d said it, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized the possibility sooner. “He probably doesn’t even know about the orbs.”

“Oh, definitely not.”

“What do you know about Uk’otoa?” Sabian asked, but Fjord was drawn to the way Sabian’s fingers had begun to move. He recognized those movements, they’d been instinctual to him after surviving the ocean.

Sabian knew magic.

Before his former crewmate could do whatever he planned, Fjord cast a spell of his own. Throwing out the magic towards Sabian before he could do any damage to himself or Jester.

“What did you do?” Sabian demanded. His voice was strained and Fjord could all but see the muscles tighten as Sabian attempted to fight against the paralyzation which had suddenly come over him.

“I cast hold person,” Fjord explained matter-of-factly.

“Impressive,” Jester complimented him. “He can escape from it though, can’t he?”

“That’s what I’ve got you for.”

Jester’s grin was bright and eager as she patted the axe at her side. “I’ve been wanting to hit him for a while now.”

“Let’s get him out of the open though.” They hadn’t made a scene yet, but it was only a matter of time before someone noticed Sabian couldn’t move. “I don’t want anyone helping this piece of shit.”

“No problem,” Jester picked up Sabian by the waist and Fjord laughed so hard he was pretty sure he pulled something in his rib. “Come on, Sparky.”

She carried him down an alleyway as Fjord followed her. “Fuck, I wish the rest of the crew could see this.”

Jester grinned over her shoulder as she set Sabian back down, still paralyzed but anger and embarrassment darkening his cheeks.

“You dumbass half-orc,” Sabian roared. “I’ll get out of this and then you’ll regret ever finding me.”

“Shut up or I’ll make you shut up,” Jester warned and the look in her eye must have been enough of a warning because while Sabian still threw daggers from his eyes, he didn’t say anything else.

“If we try to take him back to the ship like this, he’ll call for help,” Fjord pointed out, fully aware Sabian could hear them.

“We can stick him in the bag of holding and take him back to the ship.”

“He might die in there,” Fjord pointed out casually.

“He’s got at least ten minutes,” Jester reminded him, voice pragmatic. “But we are in the middle of Darktow, so it might take longer than that. We’d have to walk fast.”

“And work up a sweat?” Fjord asked, feigning disgust. “No, thank you.”

“Good point,” Jester chewed on her lip as if she was deep in thought. “I mean, if he dies I can always bring him back. Or we could just cast speak with the dead and get our answers that way. We don’t actually need him alive.”

Fjord nodded, fully aware Jester was playing to the growing fear in Sabian’s eyes. He wanted to kiss her, but he figured now probably wasn’t the time. Instead, he held out his open palm and summoned the Star-Razor. Turning to face Sabian he put the sword to the half-elf’s neck, putting just enough pressure on the skin for Sabian to feel it. “You’re going to come with me, and you’re going to cooperate.”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because if you don’t, I’ll kill you.”

“We both will,” Jester corrected helpfully. “We like to do couple things together like get revenge on dumb, small dicked cowards like yourself.”

Sabian’s eyes flitted from Jester to Fjord, confusion mixing with a growing sense of fear. “Fine, I’ll go with you.”

“Holy shit, that’s him?” Beau asked as Yasha tied up Sabian in one of the storage rooms on the lower decks.

“Yeah,” Fjord nodded. “Yasha, could you maybe gag him too?”

“Love too,” Yasha answered, and passed over two different pieces of cloth before finding a dirty rag and shoving it in Sabian’s mouth.

Fjord was going to buy her a hundred flowers for that alone.

“Hold on, I don’t want him to hear us talking.” Jester turned and cast a quick spell, “There. I cast silence on him, now he can’t hear us and even better we won’t be able to hear him.”

“Thanks,” Fjord ran a hand down her back. “We should get the rest of the Nein down here. I don’t want to go far in case he manages to get out of those manacles.”

“I’ll get the others,” Beau offered, then turned towards the stairs and shouted at the top of her lungs for rest of the group. With a triumphant grin she looked back to Fjord. “There, they should be here in a second.”

“I think you destroyed one of my ear drums.”

Beau shrugged and didn’t even pretend to hide her grin, but good as her word, the other three members of the Mighty Nein came below decks. “You bellowed, Beau?”

“Fjord and Jester kidnapped Sabian-“

“Sparky,” Jester corrected. “We’re calling him Sparky now because he was rude to Fjord.”

“Cool,” Beau acknowledged. “And now I guess we’re going to interrogate him. Is that the plan?”

“We didn’t really plan much further than bringing him to the ship,” Fjord admitted. “But I think Jester figured out why Sabian did what he did.”

“I think Uk’otoa got to him,” Jester explained. “Or maybe Avantika? Possibly Vandran, but either way I think Sabian found out there was a powerful sea god who could give him powers, and what better way to prove your allegiance than to gift him with a dozen drowned sailors?”

“You think he blew up the boat to get in Uk’otoa’s good graces?”

“What other reason would he have had?” Jester asked Veth.

“She’s right,” Caduceus nodded. “It was just a merchant ship, wasn’t it? There was no strategic reason to bring it down, and you said the ship was practically empty, didn’t you Fjord?”

“Yeah, we were on our way to pick up cargo.”

“And it’s not like Sabian had insurance on the ship. There was no reason to bring down the Tide’s Breath except to kill everyone on board.”

“He’s not very powerful,” Fjord pointed out. “If he’s got magic, he doesn’t have a lot of it.”

“Power comes from experience,” Caleb explained. “If he’s been hiding out on the island since the sinking, then he’s not exactly testing his boundaries.”

“Coward,” Beau muttered.

“That’s what I said!” Jester laughed. “I also said he has a small dick, but I don’t know that personally.”

“He looks like a guy with a small dick,” Yasha nodded sagely. “Probably can’t hold his liquor either.”

Beau leaned over to look at Sabian. “You’re totally right, babe.”

“So what are we going to do with him?” Veth asked, refocusing the conversation. “Cause if we have to share our rations with a prisoner he’s not getting any of mine.”

“The Plank King gave us 24 hours to take care of our business, and while I think Jester’s right about why, I still have a lot of questions. After that, I think we should give him over to the locals and let them deal with him.”

“They can’t have good opinions about men who kill their fellow crew members,” Caleb agreed. “They’ll exact their own justice.”

“Hopefully the same kind of justice they gave Avantika,” Jester muttered. “But hopefully this time he doesn’t creepily climb over our ship as an undead sea witch.”

Veth shivered at the memory. “The less we can have that happen, the better.”

“Someone make a scary ‘let’s kill him’ gesture,” Jester ordered and without missing a beat Yasha drew her thumb across her neck and then looked directly at Sabian.

“That should not have been as sexy as it was,” Beau commented and Fjord rolled his eyes.

“Keep it in your pants, Beau.”

She glared at him and then they both just grinned.

“Okay, I’m going to talk to him, see what info I can get.” He looked down at Jester, “Mind being my muscle for a little bit longer?”

Jester put her hand over her heart and looked incredibly sincere as she looked him in the eye. “It would be my honor, Fjord.”

“Let us know if you need any help,” Caduceus offered. “I don’t think I’d be any good at interrogating a live person, but it might be interesting to find out.”

A chuckle rippled through the group and then they dispersed.

“Ready?” Jester asked.

“One thing first.” Fjord tugged Jester out of Sabian’s eyeline and leaned down to kiss her. Jester rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him back, both of them just taking the moment before Fjord eventually pulled away.

“What was that for?” Jester asked.

“I need a reason?”

She smiled and shook her head. “Not normally, no. But that felt like it had a reason.”

“Just… thanks for having my back.”

“Anytime,” she promised. “Now, let’s get Sparky to pee his pants.”

Fjord waited until he stopped laughing before walking into the room. “Mind getting rid of the spell?”

“Oh, right.” Jester waved her hand and they could suddenly hear the grunting of Sabian fighting against the binds and gag.

“Before we let you have your say, there’s a couple things I want you to hear.” Fjord once again made the Star Razor appear and he rested the tip against the wood of the floor and spun it around idly. “I’d like to have answers, it would make everything quite a bit easier, but the thing is: I’ve lived without answers for a while now, and I think I could live the rest of my life without them.”

Sabian’s eyes darted behind him, and without looking Fjord knew Jester and created her serrated lollipop, the slightly purple glow reflecting off his sword was easily recognizable. “So the thing is, I could kill you, and move on. Eventually, I’ll forgot about you and the fish will eat you, and there will be no evidence you ever existed. Or…”

Tearing his eyes away from the terrifying spiritual candy, Sabian narrowed his eyes at Fjord. “Or what?”

“Or you could tell us what we want to know and go back to Darktow. As long as you don’t leave, we’ll let you live. Otherwise?” Fjord picked up the sword and swung it around. “I’m going to see how many times I can cut you before you beg for mercy.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

Fjord stepped forward, all the confidence and self-assurance he’d faked in the past now real, and smiled slow and wicked. “The lady already told you, I’m Captain Tusktooth. And you’re going to tell me what I want to know.”

#critical role #critical role fic #fjorester #fjord #jester lavorre

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cammmerrroniii · 3 years

Text

Fever Dream

The night air is crisp and cool as usual at the Jorhouse. The mighty Nein have recently returned from Eissel Cross and were recovering from the events that had unfolded there.

Caduceus, in an attempt to comfort everyone but mostly himself, immediately busied himself in the kitchen making some of his special tea. The Willinghams, he thought to himself, they should make the perfect brew to settle these rascals. He looked back through the door leading into the foyer and saw Jester, so excited to see Essik tomorrow, bouncing around the room adding her own touches to the house to make it feel more homey since they’d be here a while.

Caleb sat in the corner pouring over a book, as usual, but every now and then you could see his eyes just glazing over the top of his worn and slightly yellowed pages to watch this little blue teifling work her “magic”. Veth was in her room, preparing little presents for Yeza, apparently their anniversary was coming up soon and of course Fjord was up there teasing her as he does.

Meanwhile, Yasha was sitting cross-legged on the second story balcony looking over the street, processing everything that had happened. The things that had occurred that she never thought possible. Seeing that coat had brought back so many memories; memories that she’d tried so desperately to bury with the others. She knew blaming herself never helped anything but she couldn’t help it. And then there was Beau. Oh Beau. Beau, Beau. What have you done to me, she thought while watching the neighbor’s peeking out their windows at their house for the fifth time.

She let out a sigh and thought about why she had acted the way she did around Beauregard. She felt that itch begin to rise once more inside of her. It always started this way, her toes would tingle and make her legs ache to run. The sensation would travel through her muscles like a ripple, until she found herself clenching and unclenching her fists and looking around for an exit. But Beau, with her captivating blue eyes and crooked smile, had complicated things.

Unbeknownst to Yasha, Beau was up on the roof staring down at the Aasimar woman. She knew she needed to talk to her about the poem, but she also knew that she sucks with feelings. She’d been watching her from afar for a while now, and, thinking about it, she thought about how stalkerish she probably seems. She took a deep inhale and deftly got to her feet without making a sound.

“Hey Yasha! I was wondering where you were hiding” she called out acting like she had just stumbled upon her.

��Oh!” Yasha jumped slightly in surprise, “Hallo, Beau. I’m sorry. I thought I had told everyone I’d be up here. Were you looking for me?” She had said where she would be. They all heard her.

“Yeah! I mean, no, well I mean not for like a long time or anything I mean, don’t worry about it, aha!” Gods why is she so weird all the time. Beau parkoured down to the balcony and leaned awkwardly against the rails for a second. “So, Yash....” Fuck, why didn’t she think of something to say first?!

Yasha looked up at Beauregard through her lashes expectantly. “What is it, Beau?”

Beau swallowed hard. “Um, ah. So that, ah, poem.. I uh gave it a read”, quite a few times, though she neglected to mention that part. A surprised look that was a mix of nervousness and horror spread across Yasha’s face. With everything going on, she had forgotten about that silly little poem.

“Oh, uh, that’s.. good. Yeah I, um, Jester gave me the idea and um she thought... I mean, uh, I-I thought that you know I,” she chewed on her words for a second. “I have been thinking about you- I mean, thinking about telling you how I feel, that is. So.. what did you think?” She bit her last few words off sharply and held her breath.

Beau knew that something had changed in Yasha since she had gotten her wings back. She saw it more and more as the barbarian woman continued to slowly open herself up to the group. She looked her over for a second and did, in fact, notice just the faintest bit of white at her roots and her skin held a light shine to it. She was literally glowing, and radiating beauty. Beau shook herself for a moment and realized she had been staring at Yasha awkwardly for a few seconds while she was clearly anxiously awaiting her reply.

“Um,” she cleared her throat and sat down beside Yasha, their knees brushing against each other as she did so; the slight intake of breath Yasha did at the contact did not go unnoticed. “I think that you definitely have a way with words that is unique. And I wanted to tell you that, if I understood your poem correctly, I’ve felt the same way since the first day I saw you.” She told her honestly and unabashedly, though her heart was hammering into her ribcage.

Yasha stared back at Beau, looking a bit stunned. They sat in silence for a few moments, though it wasn’t as awkward now that they’ve both discussed somethings out loud.

“Beauregard,” Yasha started slowly. “I care very deeply for you. And I don’t want you to end up hurt again because of me.” Beau looked like she was going to say something but Yasha cut her off. “I’ve been going through big changes recently and accepting everything has been a big part of that. And I forgive myself. For Zuala, and Molly, and you most of all. I-I need to go for a little while, not very long, I promised you I wouldn’t leave and I’m going to keep that promise but I just need to go and commune with the Storm Lord. He sent me these visions in my dreams and I know I must go there in order to complete my change and prove myself worthy. I didn’t want to tell anyone, old habits die hard I guess. But, I cannot hide things from you. Not anymore.” She opened her eyes that she wasn’t aware she had closed and looked back over to Beau. She was thinking. Yasha could tell because of the way the tip of her tongue just slightly glazed over the corner of her mouth repeatedly.

She’s going to feel betrayed, that I’ve lied to her. She’ll never forgive me, Yasha let herself think.

“I understand,” Beau finally said. Yasha looked at her in surprise. Of course she understood. As blind as Yasha is, even she could tell that underneath all of that bravado - and abs, oh gods so many abs - Beauregard understood Yasha on a far deeper level than anyone ever had. Beau connected eyes with Yasha and grinned. “But I’ll be expecting a kiss when you come back to me.” Yasha heart did a back flip just thinking about kissing Beau. She couldn’t form words as her brain got all goopy, so she simply nodded.

They both got to their feet slowly and stood facing one another. Yasha leaned down and gently laid her lips onto Beaus forehead. Beau was grinning like an idiot when Yasha pulled back.

“One for now, and the other when I come back. I promise.”

“Good luck.”

And with that, Yasha hopped the railing and landed perfectly on her feet. She began walking to her destination, already planning the kiss. She looked back one last time just in time to see Beau fist pump the air and do a little happy shimmy before she saw Yasha looking and froze, sheepishly waving goodbye to her before ducking into the house.

—————-

It was late, Beau would guess around 3AM. The witching hour, she thought to herself. Yasha had left some two or three weeks ago and Beau hadn’t been able to sleep very well after about the first week of her absence. They were still at the Jorhouse and everyone was fast asleep.

She quietly crawled out of bed and slid out onto the balcony, looking out in the direction Yasha had left.

The group did not take the news of her leaving well at first, mainly because they were concerned for Yasha’s safety. But, they all understood and came to the resounding conclusion that she could take care of herself.

“Who in their right mind would mess with Yasha,” Fjord had said. “She could bench press all of us with one arm if she wanted to.” Beau let some dirty thoughts of Yasha bench pressing her seep into her gutter of a mind and Fjord had scoffed at her while Jester wiggled her eyebrows and cackled at Beau’s expression.

“Ja, our Aasimar friend will be fine. She has a new belt that I’m sure she’s itching to add some notches to.” Caleb had remarked.

“And I can send her a message!!” Jester squealed, about to do just that. Beau had grasped her blue friend gently and advised against it.

“Yasha just needs some time alone, I think. Just her and the Storm Lord. She’ll be back soon.” Beau gave a small smile to Jester, who grinned knowingly back and gave her a small nod in understanding.

Looking out over the cool and quiet streets thinking back to the day Yasha had left and the conversation they had had, Beau couldn’t help but feel like she was being watched. She heard a thud and spun around to see a tall figure standing over her. Long white hair, glowing eyes boring through her, and though covered in dirt her skin shone through dimly.

“Yasha!” Beau startled out. She didn’t have much time to process before Yasha enveloped Beau with her arms, pulling her into a warm hug. They stood like this for a few moments, just basking in each other’s embrace.

“I missed you Beau. I mean, I missed all of you. But, you know what I mean.” Her voice sounded faintly of angelic chimes and hums. They pulled apart though staying very close as Beau looked up in awe.

“You look.. different. Still very beautiful, though.” She blushed at the fact that she just straight up said Yasha was beautiful to her face which was literally only a few inches away, oh my gods. “I’ve never seen someone after a change like this before.”

Yasha just smiled softly, and gazed at Beau for a moment. “You’re beautiful, too.” And then she leaned down and captured Beauregard in a mind blowing kiss. For both of them, it felt as if this were the first time they have ever kissed another person. It was electrifying.

As Yasha was welcomed back into the Nein, her family, there was something there in the back of her head that was just overwhelmed with joy and love that she had finally found her soulmate. And as she connected eyes with Beau across the living room of the Jorhouse surrounded by their family and friends, she knew that Beau felt it too.

I know this is super long and I’m so sorry. But this is the dream I had and was told to write so I wrote it for you guys. I hope it’s okay, like I said, I’ve never written fan fiction before. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If it’s terrible, also please feel free to DM me, I always accept criticism so long as you’re not being, like, a huge dick. :)

#beauregard lionett #yasha nydoorin #beauyasha #critical role #fanfic #fan fiction #it’s a lot longer than I thought it would be #that’s what she said #I’m so sorry #hope you like it #fluff?#just soft things

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sockablock · 4 years

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When in sudden need of a place to stay, Caleb Widogast finds a room for rent at a price so low he can’t believe his luck. Ignoring the concerns of his friends, he moves in and quickly finds himself tangled up in the life of one Essek Thelyss, a reclusive scholar who may be even stranger than Caleb himself...

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Chapter 2: A Name to the Face

The sun lanced arcs across Caleb’s face as he set his phone down on the nightstand, and yawned.

He’d gotten used to sleeping in strange places during the last few years of his life, and there was a part of him that missed the coziness of his room back in his and Nott’s apartment. But the other part of him, namely the part comprised of bruises from too-narrow walls—relished in this chance to stretch out a little.

Eventually, he managed to sit up. The mattress did not dip sullenly with his weight, indicative of its newness and quality.

He glanced around. The door was closed, though Frumpkin was nowhere to be seen. Then again, mundane cats were already hard enough to confine; as a feline of the fey persuasion, Frumpkin went where Frumpkin pleased.

Caleb took his sweet time making the bed, adjusting the blinds, peering out the window over quiet streets, before eventually rifling through his cardboard boxes for something proper to wear. He also made a mental note to, at some point, ask Mr. Thelyss how the laundry worked.

Then he straightened his collar, took a deep breath, and wandered out into the kitchen.

—

Jester was nose-deep in a box of cinnamon rolls when Beauregard emerged from the shower. Peals of steam curled past the doorframe and dissipated out into the hallway.

“I thought those were supposed to last us the week,” Beau said when she noticed her roommate. “Didn’t we decide we wouldn’t go back to the bakery until Thursday?”

“Oh, but Beau,” icing shimmered in the corner of Jester’s mouth. “Beau, they’re just so tasty. I can’t resist.”

Beauregard pulled the towel off her head and gave her hair one last muss-up. Then she slung herself backwards into a chair and stole some frosting.

“Fair enough,” she licked a finger. “Just be sure to save something for Yasha when she gets back.”

“Back?” Jester’s cheerful demeanor vanished. “Oh, no, did she leave again? I thought she was done doing that!”

“Oh, no she didn’t run off, I think she just went to some errands, or something?” Beau scratched the side of her head. “She mentioned something about seeing a butcher.”

“Oh.” Jester relaxed. “Well that’s alright, then. Though we don’t really cook much.”

“Maybe she’s trying something new. It’s better than eating rats all the time, right?”

Jester gave this due consideration. “I think she only did that once. And then Fjord threw up, so she decided to stop.”

“Hm,” Beau shrugged. “I guess that’s nice of her. Oh, hey, speaking of stopping, what the hell is up with Caleb? Has he responded? With pictures and actual information?”

Jester groaned. “He’s being a real butt about it. He’s obviously there, but he isn’t sending us anything good.”

Beau raised a cinnamon roll. “The bastard.”

—

In the light of day, Mr. Thelyss’s kitchen gleamed with tidiness and disuse. In fact, it seemed like only the coffeemaker and microwave ever got any attention from their owner.

Caleb added another step to his mental moving day to-do-list: find the nearest grocery store and get some cereal. And coffee. And maybe a loaf of bread, if he was feeling extravagant.

He settled instead for pouring himself a glass of water and vowing that he would at least pick up lunch once he actually ventured outside. He slid into the kitchen, found a neutral-looking glass cup, and filled it up in the sink.

When he turned, he realized that something was different about the counter.

The little box of cheesecake was gone.

There was a note left, however. It read: Thank you very much, Mr. Widogast.

So, Caleb thought to himself. This meant that his mystery landlord had come home at some point in the night. And…as his gaze drifted past the kitchen and over to the front door of the apartment…yes, there in the foyer was a pair of shoes and a fine, but thin, black cloak.

Caleb had never seen anything like it before. It seemed as if the pattern had been designed to almost be worn like some kind of long poncho. Its hem brushed just over the floor.

What kind of person would wear something like this? The amused thought of vampire briefly flickered through his mind, but he shook it off and chalked it up to spending too much time with Jester.

He glanced back at the note. Something in him also registered: charmingly polite.

He shook his head. Speaking of Jester, he still had a promise to fulfill…

—

“Fjord, those are ugly.”

“What? I think they look nice—”

“Nice won’t cut it! I need something amazing! It’s been months since I’ve last seen Yeza. I have to really blow him away.”

“Look, what you see is what we’ve got. And anyway, what’s wrong with Delphiniums—”

Nott was standing on a small turquoise stool that some of the more vertically-challenged customers of the Blooming Grove required to reach the counter. Her finger was swaying dangerously underneath the nose of a long-time friend and even longer-time frenemy, Fjord, currently on register duty.

All around them, the sweet and mellow scent of dozens upon dozens of coastal flowers twirled and trilled and danced through the air. Large windows set into the pale green walls let in sunlight and a view of the gardens out back.

“They’re blue!” Nott screeched. “I don’t want blue, Yeza’s going to think I’m not happy to see him!”

“Everyone likes blue,” Fjord said defensively. “Just look at Jester. She’s practically got a fan club. Fine, fine,” he added, when her expression didn’t change, “I can do you some roses—”

“Roses are cliché.”

“They’re a goddamn symbol of love, Nott.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but I don’t just want a symbol of love, I want a symbol of…of passion. Of devotion. Of l—”

“Look, just wait a bit, and Caduceus will be back. He’s the one who actually knows the names of all these things,” Fjord sighed. “He’ll be able to tell you if those even are Delphiniums.”

There was a moment’s pause.

“How have you managed to keep this job, Fjord?”

“I don’t have to help you, you know.”

“Technically, I think you d—"

And then, their phones buzzed.

—

Nott glanced back at Fjord.

“Do you think he doesn’t know?”

Fjord shrugged. “Let’s just see what he says.”

Nott groaned. “It’ll probably be hours until we find out.”

—

“He’s going to die tonight, then,” said Beau, kicking off her sneakers. The front door shut behind her with a click. “That’s, like, the first rule to committing a crime. Don’t let them see your face.”

“I think it’s kind of romantic,” Jester said. Now she was in the living room, sprawled across the couch. “It’s like…a forbidden meeting. Maybe he’ll never find out what Essie looks like. Isn’t that sad?”

“Essek,” Beau corrected, and set her keys aside. “And I don’t see what’s so sad about that.”

“Oh, but it is,” Jester lavished in her sigh. “The saddest and loneliest kind of thing. To never see who you’re living with? If you can’t even put a face to the name, you might as well be sharing your house with a ghost.”

Beau raised an eyebrow. “That’s…a little dramatic, but I see what you mean. Anyway, this is a point against the guy. In my books, that is. And I’m keeping track.”

“Oh? How many points does he have?”

Beau joined her on the couch and crossed her arms. “Not many. He’s mysterious, and weird. Those are negatives. Standoffish, if he didn’t even greet Caleb on the first day. And if he isn’t a criminal, and is actually renting out a place that cheap, he must be a total idiot. Or desperate.”

“For what?” Jester asked.

She shrugged. “Who knows? The company?”

—

Essek was, as a matter of fact, quite desperate. Desperate for another five minutes of sleep.

It was now long after the Mighty Nein had given up on their interrogation, though he was not aware of this. Instead, what was most on his mind was the strange…the odd vibrating right next to his head.

Blindly, he reached out to slap his alarm. His hand connected, but the noise did not stop.

Then he realized that it was coming from the other side of the bed.

He shuffled around to take a peek.

An eye was staring back at him. Large and blue.

“What in the name of the L—”

The cat yawned, and its mouth stretched open to reveal rows of teeth.

Essek hesitated. He rubbed his face.

“How did…what is…”

And then the puzzle pieces slid into place.

He racked his brain for the name.

“F…Fr…Frumpkin?” he guessed.

The cat yawned again. This time, it followed the gesture up with a mrpf, and unfurled its body. And stretched.

“Hm,” said Essek. “He did…warn me, but…I am not sure if I approve of you coming in here like this. Without announcement, especially.”

Frumpkin stared back up at him. He tilted his head and put on his most endearing expression.

“Well,” Essek relented in the onslaught of this, “at least you don’t seem to be the kind that sheds. Actually…”

He leaned in as close as he dared, a pair of icy eyes tracking his every movement.

“…actually, I’m not at all sure what kind of kitty you are. Your ears are…very long. And your markings are…”

And then Essek realized.

“A familiar?”

Frumpkin blinked at him.

—

Caleb had found the grocery store on his second try, and had also made note of a bookstore and bus stop on the way there. Now, after a long day of scouting out the neighborhood, he was back in his bedroom again, sorting clothes. No use in holding off, after all, not even if it made him feel slightly strange to be putting all his things away in someone else’s bedroom.

He picked up a t-shirt and examined the back. STAFF, it read. He had no idea for what. The Broad Barn’s secondhand clothing pile was vague at best and hazardous at worst.

Another part of Caleb, the part not fully consumed by the current task at hand, registered the faintest sound outside. It was ruled out as being not important.

Caleb produced another shirt. This one had a picture of a cat on it, red beams of light shooting out from its eyes. This had been a New Dawn present from—surprising to everyone—Yasha.

It had thus far found a long and happy life as the top half of Caleb’s pajamas. He’d tried to wear it in public once, and been bullied mercilessly by Beauregard.

On the other side of the room, past the drawers and the bed, was a small folding table that had been set up by Essek, likely as a desk. It was the sort of low contraption that eliminated any possibility of chairs, but it made a lot of sense for apartment living and was sized well enough for sitting on the floor. It was miles above Caleb’s old arrangement, a piece of plywood on a milk crate.

Right now, this new desk was covered in reams upon reams of notebook paper. Contrary to expectation, however, this paper was not lined with the standard narrow rule of most academic stationary. Instead, a pattern of lines and circles extended out from the center of the page, covering every inch in an odd spiral. Dozens upon dozens of these sheets were strewn about now, with hasty pencil-markings splattered across the page.

A particularly keen-eyed individual might have noticed that some of the markings were crossed-out. Redoubled, re-arranged, re-placed, or removed.

A particularly keen-eyed individual with the right kind of background would have noticed immediately that many of these runes were transmutative.

Back on his side of the bed, Caleb was humming.

—

When the cat—the familiar, likely a fey one, at that—did not decide to claw Essek’s eyes out, he gingerly picked it up under its forearms and carried it out of his bedroom.

He entered the living room, and saw that it was empty. The curtains were drawn open, however, and at this point the late-summer sun was just beginning to crest low over the horizon.

Essek raised an eyebrow at Frumpkin. “So. Where is your master, hm?”

Frumpkin meowed. It meant absolutely nothing to Essek, but he nodded anyway on principle.

“I understand that you are…well, from what I think I know about ordinary cats, you might like to wander around. But the same rules that apply to your wizard apply to you as well, okay?”

He walked Frumpkin into the living room and put him down on the couch.

“I would appreciate it if you did not enter my bedroom without invitation. The study as well, yes? Meow if you understand.”

Frumpkin stared at him. Frumpkin opened his mouth. Frumpkin closed it again.

It was a vague enough gesture that Essek could not tell if this was a response. He sighed.

“This is why I never bothered with getting one of you, you know. And I’m not even talking about the food bills. Er…do you eat?”

Frumpkin repeated the gesture. Essek repeated it back at the cat in a burst of childish impulse, then caught himself.

Gods, talking to Verin yesterday must have put him in an odd mood. And his brother had kept going on and on about life back in Rosohna, about how wonderful it is, Essek, how much Mother misses you, Essek, how I wish you’d visit, Essek—all that nostalgia couldn’t be good for the mind. Especially when unsolicited.

Still, this did not stop him from checking his messages in the kitchen while he waited for his morning—afternoon—evening—coffee to brew. In the background, Frumpkin rolled over on the sofa. Verin had mentioned something that he’d wanted to talk about, that he’d send over later…

Essek opened up their conversation. Then he scowled.

—

A solitary figure stalked through the dimming streets of Nicodranas. She stretched, working out the knots in her back, upper arms, feeling the scabs on her knuckles and their sting.

She grinned, wide and toothy, in the sunset.

Unconventional, but it worked.

—

Caleb had a perfect memory, and never forget anything. As such, the three core tenets of his tenancy in this apartment were virtually scored into his mind.

Be quiet. Be organized. And do the recycling.

Now he stood outside the apartment complex. The winding streets formed a gentle little plaza where the neighboring buildings all shared an open space, which included the public recycling cans.

There hadn’t actually been that much to take out, aside from an empty carton of ramen, a few cat food tins, and some assorted items that Mr. Thelyss must have left behind last night. Still, Caleb had wanted to prove how serious he was about following the Code of Conduct, and so had made the journey downstairs to be a responsible citizen.

The breeze wound around his ankles. Nearby, a few kids were running around with their mother, and a jogger moseyed past their street. It was a peaceful sight, underscored by the distant call of gulls and a setting sun.

Caleb had just nudged open the lid of the recycling bin when the shouting began.

Actually, it was less of a shouting and more of a heated argument, augmented by the harsh syllables of a language that Caleb did not recognize.

If he had, it would have sounded something like this:

“—impossible! I refuse. I did not give my permission—”

“Permission? Why would she need your permission—”

“Because it is my house! And this is my city—”

“Your city? Brother, you’ve only been there a few months—”

“It’s been a year and a half, Verin. A peaceful year and a half, mind.”

“Really? Well, I am certain it will remain that. And anyway, she’s not even going there for you.”

“Hah! I have a feeling that she is visiting Nicodranas expressly to do so. The gala is just an excuse for her to come here and poke into everything I’m doing—”

“Look, look, don’t shout at me. I am just the messenger. If you’re so upset, go and call Mother—”

Caleb swung the bag into the can. As he closed the lid, his curiosity got the better of him and he found himself surreptitiously scanning the perimeter with the universal creep of eavesdroppers everywhere.

Quickly, he found the source of the sound. There was a figure standing in front of his building, pacing back and forth underneath the awning, waving one hand around in frustration. The shadows prevented him from getting a better look, but the figure seemed lithe, and very annoyed.

Caleb would have to slip past him to get back inside.

Tactically, he pulled out his phone and pretended to be incredibly engrossed with its contents. Luckily, it seemed to work—and out of the corner of his eye he even noticed the figure hastily stepping aside.

Then, unluckily, the figure followed him.

Caleb didn’t dare look up. But he could feel the stranger’s presence trail him all the way into the elevator, then settle down next to him as the doors slid shut.

Caleb went to hit the number four. So did the stranger. Their fingers collided.

“Ah—"

“Scheisse, I am sor—”

And then he stopped.

Caleb Widogast was decidedly not a man of the world. He’d never left the continent of Wildemount, for instance, nor could he claim to have seen everything it had to offer. But he had fancied himself rather well-read, and believed that he perhaps had experienced more than the average person.

This was the first time in his life that he’d seen a dark elf.

He knew that they existed, of course, but in the way that he knew the names of far-off places, as distant trivia irrelevant to his life. He knew, for example, that they were native to Xhorhas, and that many of their societies lived underground. He knew that their closest civilization was ruled by a powerful queen. He also knew that in less-polite circles, some Empire elites still believed them to be backwater savages and monsters.

This one was wearing a green t-shirt. His hair was a messy sweep to one side.

“—ry.” He finished, as quickly as he could.

The dark elf shrugged. His eyes—a pale slate gray—took in Caleb’s appearance, then the number they’d both pressed.

“I do not recall ever seeing you,” the elf said. His voice was still a little strained, as if something from before—that argument, perhaps—was bothering him immensely.

“I, ah, I’m new,” Caleb said.

The elf raised an eyebrow. “I see.”

Then he turned back around to stare at the door. Caleb was more than happy not to engage. He just hoped he hadn’t stared long enough to offend a potential neighbor.

The elevator rose three floors. On the fourth one, it stopped.

He quickly ducked out, sandals pattering on the ground, and it was only once he’d gotten to the door of his apartment and started to punch in the code that he realized the elf was still behind him, still standing there, still annoyed, and so he turned—

—

“Excuse me,” said Essek tetchily. “Why are you entering my home?”

The human blinked.

“Er…this is…where I live.”

“What? But—”

For the second time that day, Essek realized.

“Um,” said Caleb Widogast. “Would your last name...happen to be ‘Thelyss’?”

— — —

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#critical role #critrole #critfic #fic #shadowgast #fanfiction #long post #REALLY LONG POST #im so sorry if the break doesn't work dfhgjk #fanfic #cr2 #the mighty nein #modern au #now what are the chances of that #jay writes #text

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kimabutch · 5 years

Text

“So,” Kima says, from across the dinner table, “tell me about these adventurers of yours.”

It’s Allura’s first evening back in Tal’dorei following her hasty trip to Nicodranas. Kima and the Council both successfully pleaded with her to come home instead of waiting nervously in Yussa’s tower, and Kima even prepared her trademark roast chicken as a welcome-home dinner. From their dining room window in their tower, Allura can see the bird’s eye view of Emon, its stone streets blooming to life with the coming spring. It’s a beautiful and comforting sight — despite the Menagerie Coast’s fine sea views, Emon will always be home.

Allura sighs, turning to her wife. “I don’t even know where to begin. They’re rather… perplexing.”

“Well, you’re always saying to start with what you know. Which ones do you know the most about?” Kima says.

“Right. Well. There’s the wizard, Caleb.”

“Of course you’d start with the wizard,” Kima says with a playful grin. “Have you met him before?”

Allura returns the smile. “Wizards don’t all know each other, and no, I’ve never met him before. But I’m fairly certain he’s from the Zemnian Fields.”

“Zemni… that’s where we were, right? Rexxentrum? With all those guys that you hated?”

Allura nods in approval. Kima’s never been one for politics, but she tries for her sake, and Allura appreciates the effort.

“Hate is a strong word, perhaps. I found many of the methods at the Soltryce Academy and the politics among the Cerberus Assembly a little unsettling.”

“Yeah, they were creepy fuckers,” Kima says. “So is this wizard from the Academy?”

“Well, that’s what’s interesting — I’m fairly certain that he’s not aligned with them anymore. Certainly Yussa would not involve himself with an active member of the Assembly, or anyone involved with the Academy. He has a stronger distaste for Rexxentrum than me. Not to mention that he was wearing a cloak that I believe is of Xhorhassian design.”

“Could he have been raised in Zemnia and defected to Xhorhas?”

“Maybe? I can’t imagine how he survived, however. The Empire is not easy on traitors, and Xhorhas is not known for its love of humans.”

“Huh. A tough wizard. Reminds me of someone I know,” Kima says, and Allura can feel her cheeks redden slightly. “Okay, so who else?”

“There’s another human, Beau, but not from Zemnia, as far as I can tell. I can’t quite pinpoint her accent, but by her clothing, she seems to be a monk. She was so clever with Yussa’s notes... I would hazard a guess that she trained with the Cobalt Soul.”

“Those weird, Ioun-loving librarians? The ones in Vasselheim are always giving us a hard time at the Sanctuary.”

“Actually, she reminds me a little of you when we were younger,” Allura says.

“How so?”

“Headstrong and… very blunt.” Kima begins sputtering protests, while Allura continues: “But passionate and protective of her friends. Thoughtful and resourceful, too.”

Kima’s protests turn into a blush. “You talk to all your girls that way?” she teases.

Allura laughs and extends her hand across the table, intertwining her fingers with Kima’s. “Only to my dearest wife.” She rests for a moment, looking into Kima’s impossibly green eyes, crinkled at the edges with a fond smile. “It is strange, however,” she resumes, “that a member of the Cobalt Soul might be adventuring with a wizard who defected from the Assembly. The organizations are separate and Ioun knows that they don’t always get along, but they’re supposedly allies. Perhaps they fled the Empire together. That might explain how Caleb survived.”

“Huh. Well, I like her a bit better now.”

“I thought you would.”

“So that’s two. What about the one that you gave the mirror to?” Kima says.

“Ah, yes. Jester. A tiefling — from the Menagerie Coast, I believe, given her accent. Certainly they are more prevalent by the Coast.”

“So is she the leader?”

“Perhaps in the same way that Scanlan still calls himself the leader of Vox Machina,” Allura says, and this gets a good laugh out of Kima. “But perhaps I’m being unfair. She is a little bit of a… jokester, as her name would suggest, but she’s clearly very powerful. She’s a mage of some sort, though I doubt that she’s a wizard...”

“So all wizards do know each other!” Kima says triumphantly.

“... Although if she makes use of divine magic, then she was not wearing any holy symbols that I recognized,” Allura continues, with a smile at her wife. “Caduceus, the firbolg, on the other hand — I’m fairly certain he wears Melora’s swirl in his clothing and earrings.”

“Fear… bulg?” Kima says, rolling the word around in her mouth.

“A reclusive race — I don’t believe I’ve ever met one in Tal’dorei. They’re giant-kin, I believe, but somewhat bovine in appearance. They supposedly have an affinity with nature, which would explain his ties to the Wildmother, but not his interest in continental politics. But we are not bound by the general tendencies of our ancestors, I suppose.”

“I hope not. Still haven’t met too many halflings that can kick ass,” Kima says. “So what’s the cow-man like?”

Allura stifles laughter at Kima’s unorthodox word choice. “Interesting, once again. He seemed a little confused.”

“At what?”

“Everything, I suppose. He asked me whether I was a good archmage or a bad archmage.”

Kima rocks back in laughter. “Well, which one is it?”

“I told him that was a difficult philosophical question. Still, he gave me a… discerning look. Not magical, but thoughtful. He’s perhaps more insightful than he might initially appear,” Allura says.

“Huh. Well, so long as he didn’t enchant you with his nature magic, that’s fine by me.”

“Indeed. His companion didn’t give me much to work with, either.”

“Companion?” asks Kima.

“Fjord, the half-orc — his armour also seemed to have Melora’s symbol on it. Perhaps I’m assuming too much, however. I don’t know much more about him. He was polite, but quiet. An accent like mine, but that’s not exactly uncommon, even in Wildemount. You might have liked his sword. It was very ornate.”

“Better than my Holy Avenger?” Kima says, gesturing to the platinum greatsword that hangs on the wall. Allura sometimes wishes that she had won the debate about whether weapons should be allowed in the dining area, but she admits that the sword is beautiful. “I’d love to spar with him, though,” she continues. “Sounds like he’s the only one of these adventurers who can hold a sword.”

“I’m sure you’d take him handily,” Allura says with a smile. “Although, I think there’s one more who can fight. The, ah, goblin, Nott.”

“A goblin? Now that’s interesting. Haven’t really met one of them since Kraghammer.” Kima wrinkles her brow. “Better not tell Scanlan. He’d have a fit.”

“I wasn’t planning to, no. I confess, I was surprised by her presence. Excepting Wensforth, I haven’t met many goblins who have ventured out of their clan. I would think that she’s from Xhorhas, where goblins are more openly accepted, except that her accent does not appear to be Xhorhassian in nature. Nor do goblins typically associate with humans — though, I suppose they don’t usually go adventuring into extraplanar device, either, so she’s unusual on several counts. Sneaky, too. She was hiding behind one of Yussa’s books for several minutes before she introduced herself.”

“Huh. And you said she can hold her own in a fight?”

“I believe so,” Allura says. “She carried a well-made crossbow with some confidence, and I saw a shortsword by her side. I could have also sworn that she had a pistol on her, but there wasn’t sufficient time to ask.”

“Ha! Better add Percy to the list of people you can’t tell about this.”

“I suppose so. I believe he’s abandoned the notion that he’ll stop the proliferation of his devices, but it does make him so upset.” Allura sighs. “Anyways, that’s the six of them. They call themselves the Mighty Nine.”

“So on top of all that, they can’t count?”

“Perhaps. Or they have other companions that are not with them at this moment. I should really call in some favours with my contacts in the Empire and ask them whether they’ve heard of this party, but I’ve been so busy trying to research this Angel in Irons.” Allura runs her hands through her hair in frustration. “A threat this level, and there’s barely a word on it —”

Kima gets up from her seat, steps over to Allura, and gently takes her hand. “Ally, it’s okay. I know everyone keeps putting all of Exandria on your shoulders, but if Yussa’s made friends with a bunch of chucklefucks, that’s on him. It’s not your fault, I promise.” Holding her face, Kima kisses Allura deeply. She feels Allura relax in her hands and lay her arms around Kima’s waist.

As they pull away, still holding each other, Allura smiles and whispers, “I missed you.”

“Missed you too, babe,” Kima says, kissing her forehead.

#critical role #fanfiction #my stuff #have you ever wanted 1500 words of Kima and Allura #just talking about the M9 and being cute?#I didn't until this afternoon #when I was consumed with the urge to write it #after I wrote that textpost about what allura must think of them #but then it kind of got derailed cause I missed my gf #this is 100% the sort of conversations that we have #cr spoilers

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my-spiritualweapon-is-a-lollipop · 3 years

Text

Holding Hands

Synopsis: Essek tours the tower for the first time and he and Caleb have some honest talks. A little bit of angst and a little bit of fluff. Just how I like my wizards.

It had been a long day in Eiselcross. The Mighty Nein were all weary on their feet, many of them hurt from their various encounters along the way and everyone could probably use the rapport boost of a warm bed and good food. Still Caleb was leary of using the tower when Lucien had proven he could easily dispel it.

“But Caleb” Jester pleaded while grabbing onto his arm with her charming little mittens. “If Lucien’s not nearby yet then we wasted a night of good, safe rest. Wouldn’t it be better to fight him with a good night of sleep before? And besides, the tower is harder to find than the dome.” and she blinked up at him with that particular Jester pout that Caleb found particularly difficult to resist.

“Ja… we could…” He left room for Fjord or Beau to interject with a discussion of the best tactical decision, but they were surprisingly quiet. He glanced at them and saw that Beau was leaning hard against the wall, favouring the leg that hadn’t been hurt in their last run in and trying to play it off. Fjord’s face was etched with exhaustion. That settled it for Caleb. It was worth the boost in moral that an evening in the tower would provide… even if it served to be only a temporary situation. “Ja. We could” He repeated more firmly and began his preparations for the tower.

It was a challenging spell and Caleb had plenty of experience tuning out his companions when doing this work, but Beau and Caduceus couldn’t help but notice the almost imperceptible pause and tensing of Caleb’s shoulders that accompanied Jester grabbing Essek and delightedly declaring:

“Oh, Essek you are going to love the tower! And not just because it’s all wizardy and stuff but Caleb made it so nice. There are lots of cats, and everyone has a special nice room - I bet he’ll make one special for you” she pumped her eyebrows “- and the cats make like WHATEVER food you want! It’s amazing!”

Essek responded in the slightly shaken way he did whenever he encountered the full force of Jester’s jovial attentions:

“I-I-’m certain that it is. I wouldn’t expect anything less from a talented wizard.” and Essek looked hard at Caleb’s back for a moment and then looked away with a perceptible sadness in his eyes but Jester pushed on as was her way:

“Pro-tip: call all of the cats to come snuggle you. You will never. Sleep. Better.”

“I’ll have to remember that.” Essek said nodding at her and trying to extricate himself from where she had her arms wrapped around his. He floated over to the wall to drift near Beau where he expected he would be left to sit in sullen silence, which was what he wanted. He wanted to observe everything about how Caleb cast this spell. This was the kind of magic he wasn’t particularly familiar with and it was endlessly fascinating. To his surprise he was interrupted by Beau leaning close to him and whispering savagely under her breath:

“If you talk shit about Caleb’s tower, I will fucking kill you. I know you’re a supposed to be amazing and all but it’s clear your opinion matters to him, so you better play nice got it?” Essek visibly deflated in response but whispered back with a surprising intensity.

“I understand that I have not given you much to trust Beauregard, but if there is one thing you can, please trust in my respect for all of your abilities. Even if you believe me to be arrogant, foolish or any other of the myriad of likely accurate and unflattering descriptions you may have in your mind, please know that you have each earned my respect time and time again and Caleb more so than anyone. If anything, I wish to prove my capabilities as an ally to you... not judge yours.” Before Beau could respond, Caduceus (who hears just about everything) put an arm around Essek and spoke.

“That’s nice.” and looked at Essek with a natural sense of hope that Essek couldn’t tolerate so he stared hard into the ground.

“Ready” Caleb said to the group. Those who knew him well picked up on the slight nerves in his voice. It would have been easy to attribute it to the long day of difficult travel, but they were all inclined to think that it was more likely to do with the wizard floating a few feet behind the rest of the group with a curious light filling his eyes. They began to file in and Jester paused at the back of the group to whisper to Caleb conspiratorially:

“Don’t worry. He’s going to like it.” and as she stepped inside, she threw her voice out to obviously and loudly proclaim:

“Oh, Caleb it is as beautiful as always! You are so talented! So amazing! So…” as she paused to look for the next description Veth cut in:

“Truly powerful. One might say a prodigy” She said making eye contact with Essek in a less than kind way before beginning to float upwards.

“Yes!” Jester began as she too started drifting upwards “an absolute prodigy! The best ever!” she feigned swooning and Beau cut her off.

“Yeah, yeah Caleb’s great. We get it. What’s for supper?”

“Uh ja” Caleb started, and he summoned a cat nearby “please prepare a good-sized roast and several -uh- vegetable dishes for our pink friend here and also some black moss cupcakes please.”

“Thank you” Caduceus said and began drifting upwards following the rest of the group. Essek looked like he was about to say something until Fjord shouted:

“UP!” right next to him and nearly caused him to leap out of his skin though he quickly recovered his unflappable mask. Everyone drifted up whilst chatting until it was just Caleb and Essek left on the platform.

“Ah I see.” Essek said as he began drifting up off the platform. “A clever design.”

“I thought that scaling many staircases seemed less than enjoyable after a day of adventuring.” Caleb put in, clearly trying to keep the pleasure at the compliment out of his voice.

“Actually, I was rather inspired by a time we found ourselves in the astral sea briefly.”

“Indeed” Essek said having some experience with the nature of that space. “I don’t believe I have heard that story yet.” He continued.

“Probably you will, some day” Caleb said and Essek could sense that this meant the tale of that particular adventure contained sensitive information, information that Caleb did not trust Essek with and he looked at his floating feet once more, unable to make eye contact with the closest friend he had had in years who was saying in no uncertain terms that he was still not to be trusted completely.

“Ah I see… someday then”.

Caleb didn’t want to leave the mood too low for too long. Afterall, he wanted to tell Essek every detail about those halls and their experiences there, but the happy fun ball seemed like it would probably be more of a temptation than was necessarily a good idea, especially if the two of them could work on it together. So, he began floating on ahead and offered Essek his hand.

“Would you like the tour then?” Essek briefly looked up at Caleb floating above him, stretching his hand down to carry him up to his level and couldn’t help but feel the weight of the visual representation of their situation. Caleb looking down, wreathed in light from above while Essek looked up at him and reached for his hand. It was almost like an art piece and he hated to give in to the symbolism.

Still, he grabbed Caleb’s hand and thought “up” to himself until they were level. Much to his surprise Caleb kept their hands intertwined as they floated up to the first floor and it was almost enough to distract Essek from the beautiful library they found themselves in next. Almost. He was a wizard after all. He couldn’t resist the sight of any good collection of books. Essek quickly moved over to the nearest shelf and began scanning title after title and slowly came to a realization.

“You create this space anew every time, correct? It’s not permanently established?”

“Ja, I create it new every time, though I try to keep it close to the same for the most part.”

“So, all of these… these only exist here meaning that these are simply books that you have memorized?” He said with audible admiration.

“Ja. I have a good mind for storing facts.” and he watched as Essek pulled a book from the shelves and began thumbing through pages and couldn’t help but feel to a certain degree as if he was being tested. Essek saw that these books were not just visual representations or the spines of Caleb’s favourite books but complete volumes, written exactly as they were. He found himself feeling that odd mix of jealousy, admiration and something else that he hadn’t quite pinned down that often-accompanied Caleb’s displays of mental prowess. He looked back at Caleb, and though he had had trouble meeting the fellow wizard’s eyes for days - he did not want to see Caleb’s disappointment - he felt compelled to make strong eye contact now to drive home his point.

“I am considered excellent at what I do. I have a keen mind. But this… this is astounding even to me.” Caleb felt the weight of his eyes on him and felt himself flushing somewhat.

“Well… this is available to you if you wish to read, though I must let you know that many of them are in my original tongue and plenty of these are repeated. Though I have a great love of reading, I have found that I cannot fill an entire library with only my own knowledge just yet.” Essek waved his hand dismissively and Caleb saw just a small hint of the old, confident Essek peek thorough.

“I have arcane means at my disposal to translate. That is not a problem. I thank you.” He bowed his head slightly and stashed a book under his arm.

“But this is only the first floor? Though I would be happy to remain here in the library if that were your wish, I would gladly see more if you would show me?” Though he masked it well from his voice, Caleb could sense the hunger, the eagerness to see more that was familiar to him. Not for the first time, Caleb longed for simpler times in the other wizard’s tower when there was no betrayal hanging between them, simply peers enjoying the pursuit of knowledge and each other's company. Now even the memory of their victory that day felt tainted with the cost of how Essek had acquired much of his knowledge. Caleb pulled himself out of the spiral and offered:

“There is more to seen to be sure. Come. I’ll show you” and he proffered his hand once again. He knew Essek was perfectly capable of following but there was a small part of Caleb that couldn’t resist the small bit of pleasant contact between them that felt safe and distant enough, at least until he could make up his mind about what to do about Essek. Essek for his part noted the texture of Caleb’s hand, memorizing it and studying his internal reaction for future reference- when he had time to unpack all that was causing him to feel. He also noticed the scars just visible at the bottom of the arm of Caleb’s coat but chose not to interrupt this small precious moment of goodwill with a question that may bring up pain for Caleb.

And so, Caleb showed him the majority of the lower levels, going from place-to-place hand in hand, to a point where both hands were clammy and almost asleep but neither wizard was willing to give up their tenuous bond just yet. Essek thought the summoning space in the hall was “quite a brilliant solution” and Caleb informed Essek that he had had to install tiny locking doors on his cat travel system after Jester’s first polymorph escapade and thank goodness he had for Jester decided to provide Lucien with that little tidbit of advice upon first arriving. This caused Essek to actually laugh out loud which took Caleb by surprise.

“Yes, I am unsurprised by this. Jester is a talented person in her own right, but I would not describe her as pragmatic in any sense of the word.” Essek chuckled again. Caleb stopped and looked down at their joined hands a moment.

“Herr Theylyss, may I ask you something? It may be personal” Essek felt a pit of concern begin turning in his stomach but responded:

“Uh- why yes. I thought you were aware that I have made the decision to be fully -uh honest with you ever since… yes you may.” Caleb noted that Essek was fidgeting with his other hand.

“I had wondered why you seem more comfortable around Jester when it is clear that you still struggle to be at ease around … the rest of us at times? I understand that Jester is very talented at - uh-bringing out the best in people shall we say but… I had wondered…” Essek thought for a moment.

“I believe the answer is twofold. Firstly, Jester was the voice of your group to me for many months. It was through her that I was first annoyed with you all, then simply exasperated and then, I will admit, excited to hear from you. In my perspective she was the voice of my...my first friends. I believe to some degree I still expect her intrusions” He looked away at this “Secondly, I know I disappointed her as I disappointed each of you when I… when my decisions came to light but I can tell that Jester wants to forgive me and believes in the good she sees in me, just as Caduceus has hoped for me but I suppose, with the rest of you, in many ways I know that the damage is done and that the days of eating and drinking in that ridiculous hot tub are well over and I-” he paused to collect his thoughts “though I know I deserve it, it can be difficult to face that our bonds will never be what I was hoping they would be.” Essek hadn’t met Caleb’s eyes through this whole speech but a visible dark purple flush was creeping across his features.

“Ah I see.” Caleb began, “yes Jester’s capacity for seeing the positives in life is an admirable quality but” Caleb touched Essek’s chin feather light and turned his face towards him. “You do us a disservice if you think that each of us does not hold hope that you will redeem yourself or see the best in you. You would not be here if we didn’t but I have already told you… it takes time.” Both of them thought back to the moment of his discovery when Caleb managed to stop an oncoming panic attack in its tracks with a kiss on the forehead and his stalwart belief in Essek’s capacity to redeem himself. Looking into his eyes now, Essek saw something almost worse than his worst fear and the reason he been avoiding Caleb’s gaze. He had expected to see disappointment, sadness or even derision in Caleb’s eyes but instead he saw a warmth and a genuine affection that he felt undeserving of. It was never something he had seen before from anyone else; not in the eyes of his parents or siblings, the bright queen, or even his students that viewed him with adoration. Caleb had looked at him that way a few times before but Essek had not dared to hope that look remained after his deceptions were revealed. He felt a wetness swelling in his eyes, but he couldn't pull his gaze away, desperately catching every last second of affection that he could. Caleb was glad to see behind Essek’s carefully laid mask to know that he was being heard and heard truly. He ran his thumb over the soft purple skin along Essek’s jaw.

“Time.” He reiterated. Then he pulled his gaze away and broke them both out of the moment. He dropped Essek’s hand, afraid he’d clench too tightly if he didn’t, taken by a swarm of his own emotions of hurt, betrayal, and still warm caring and concern “I better leave you a little time before supper to clean up ja? Come. I will show you your room.” Essek didn’t say anything but simply nodded, hoping to clamber his mask of semi-indifference back into place.

They got to the landing with all of the doors to the individual bedrooms and both caught a glance into Yasha’s bedroom where Jester could be seen to be braiding Yasha’s hair in a particularly spectacular updo.

“Do you think Beau will like it?” Yasha wondered while looking in the mirror.

“Oh Yasha! She will love it!” Jester started a whole torrent of compliments before Caleb opened the door to the guest bedroom and both of them were distracted by the reveal.

Caleb had a tense knot in his stomach as Essek cautiously stepped, or floated rather, forward. He had hoped that this room could act as a small kind of gift, to show Essek that he still held space for him.

It was a chamber much like the rest of the bedrooms with its bathtub and fireplace, but Caleb had modified the architecture to be more reminiscent of Xhorhos, more specifically the design Caleb had seen in Essek’s tower. The furniture was inspired by that as well, though in different arrangements to accommodate the layout. Fine silver instruments laid upon the desk. Wall hangings precisely as they had appeared in Essek’s tower. There was space for mucking about and chalkboards for scribbling out theories. There was a small library space that was empty save for the books Caleb placed in every room and the large comfortable reading chair in the deep blue velvet that Caleb remembered, with the important distinction that this reading nook had two reading chairs as opposed to the one in Essek’s original study. Caleb watched as Essek floated from place to place taking in the details.

“Uh-ja” he interjected as Essek moved toward the desk. “I only included instruments I could recall from the limited view of your tower I had but if you require more, I have a study and lab that I share with Veth that you are welcome to share with us if you should have anything you wish to work on.” Essek moved over to touch one of the velvet chairs and Caleb cut in again:

“I have – that is- I know what it is like to be far from a patriot but to still miss home so I thought I could include a few familiar touches” Essek nodded silently, and Caleb worried he may have missed the mark. Essek finally spoke near the bed:

“I haven’t used a bed in many years. I typically just trance at the desk in my study.”

“I was worried you’d say that” Caleb said rushing forward in a fervor that he only acquired when he’d had a particularly exciting idea “thus I have innovated something for wizards everywhere. This will save our necks and shoulders” He tugged on a cord by the bed and revealed on the roof of the four poster was a chalkboard with a floating bit of chalk. He laid down excitedly and pointed up and continued “it works much like transit throughout the space. Simply think what you wish, and the chalk will begin to draw” and the chalk began drawing the figures related to fortunes favor from Caleb’s notes. “This way you may think and rest your body at the same time.” Essek was craning to look up at the chalk board with a small look of amusement glowing in his eyes. It truly was a good idea but far better was the excitement in his friend that accompanied it.

“Truly inspired” he affirmed and began peering around the rest of the space when his eyes landed on the stained glass above the fireplace. Essek floated over to peer at it and Caleb sat up to watch him. The stained glass depicted the Xorhaus as the nein affectionately called the home Essek’s Den had gifted them during their time in Xorhos, with the tree growing up out of it with it’s glittering branches. And in the house could be seen 8 colourful figures sitting around a hot tub. All of the mighty nein were silhouetted in their signature colours and in the very centre were two male silhouettes looking at one another. One purple and one orange. They seemed to be laughing in their pose. Below this there was a scroll that read “Welcome to the Mighty Nein!”.

Essek’s feet hit the floor with a loud thud as he stared at this stained-glass piece. Caleb had never seen Essek lose concentration in his levitating outside of a fight before and instinctually stood up. Essek looked over and then down at his feet somewhat embarrassed.

“My apologies, uh, I just didn’t expect…” and he moved to begin the spell again.

“You have nothing to prove to me Essek.” Caleb cut him off and essek let the spell die, looking back up to the stained glass.

“I had hoped to provide you a sense of home here, but I apologize if I misjudged or over stepped. I had already designed that stained glass before our discussion earlier and I see now that it may be more harmful than helpful. Tomorrow night I can-

“It is perfect.” Essek said quietly as he stepped, actually stepped, towards Caleb, looking as if he was searching for the right thing to say before landing on:

“Thank you. I am humbled by your insight and your skill.” Caleb looked uncomfortable at such high praise and stood, uncertain what to do with himself for several moments before he began moving toward the door.

“Supper in the dining room in fifteen minutes” he said, fleeing all of the feelings that Essek’s presence had caused.

Essek spent the next fifteen minutes in quiet contemplation about the feeling of one hand in another until he heard Caleb shouting as he descended from his room:

“Supper is ready. Please come down everyone.”

Essek opened his door as the other’s spilled onto the landing as well. He heard a massive noise from upstairs roughly the direction Caleb had specified for the lab and everyone paused to look up until Veth leaned out the door with ash covering her face and said:

“I’ll be down in 5 minutes!”

“Is everything alright?” Fjord asked semi-suspiciously.

“Absolutely! Everything is fine. Perfectly and absolutely fine.” smoke was billowing out of the door and dissipating. “I just need five minutes for um...lady stuff. BE RIGHT DOWN!” she shouted as she slammed the door closed again. The rest of the mighty nein seemed to shrug somewhat to Essek’s dismay:

“Should we help her?” he enquired.

“She’s more likely to bite than accept help she hasn’t asked for” Fjord chuckled. “She does this from time to time. I’m sure it’s fine. Besides, I’m starving”. Fjord wrapped an arm around Jester and hopped off the landing and said “Down!” and they began descending. Essek could hear Jester going:

“Oh Oskar! You are so strong” and the beginnings of Fjord’s protest at the jibe.

Meanwhile Beau and Yasha were squaring off and Essek wasn’t certain if they were likely to kiss or fight or both.

“You look...really good Yasha.”

“You like it? I had never tried this style in my hair before.”

“Essek, tell Caleb we’re skipping dinner.” Beau said with some fervor

“What-” Essek began before his question was answered by Beau pulling Yasha into her room and slamming the door. “Ah… I see”. A sudden thud could be heard from the otherside of the door and Essek did not wish to question what had caused it. Suddenly a large hand was patting him on the shoulder.

“You get used to it” Caduceus said.

“What is that?”

“Being a part of something.” Caduceus finished with another pat on the shoulder, then he began to descend for supper as if he hadn’t said something that hit Essek at his very core.

They had a pleasant supper all together and planned some tactics for the next day before everyone adjourned to their various places of rest for the night. Essek went over to the library and collected an armful of books. Frumkin appeared through a little gap in the wall and Essek leaned down to him.

“Do you have a message from your master?” he said hopefully. Frumkin just butted up against him looking to be pet.

“Do you require something?” Frumkin flopped at Essek’s feet. In this moment alone, he smiled a small smile for the cat that contained none of his usual bravado. He crouched down to pet Frumkin exceedingly gently. After a few moments Frumkin was purring loudly.

“I’m glad we are still good friends at least” Essek sighed. “Do you wish to enjoy some reading with me?” Frumkin gave a slight meow that seemed like a yes and Essek picked him up and placed him on his shoulder giving him a little nuzzle on the way. They began to ascend to Essek’s room and Caleb watched them go. He felt somewhat disappointed in himself for this scheme, particularly after seeing Essek’s sweet nature with his cat, but he would not be fooled twice.

Once safely in his room Caleb watched Essek through frumkin’s eyes. He watched and waited and expected some sort of betrayal though he did not hope for one. He waited until everyone else had gone to bed and Essek was the only one remaining awake. He had expected Essek may message someone, scry or even perhaps begin taking notes of the tower. In that whole time Essek had done nothing but read and cast comprehend languages. Eventually Caleb realized he wasn’t going to do anything else. He wasn’t going to betray them. He then spent the better part of an hour wrestling with himself and doing a good amount of internal reflection before coming to a decision. He went down to knock quietly on Essek’s door.

“Yes?” Essek asked, coming to the door in the least precisely put together look Caleb had ever seen from the wizard. His hair was amuck in places, his robe was gone and the shirt beneath was half untucked and he had the slight dark purple imprint on his cheek where he had been leaning his hand. It made him look more approachable than his typical visage as the “Shadowhand”. Perhaps more endearing too.Caleb also noted he wasn’t floating and wondered if that was to do with his earlier comment.

“Have you happened to have seen my cat?” Caleb enquired. Essek was not fooled by the pretense, knowing that Caleb could summon Frumkin at will, but played along.

“Ah my apologies, I have been detaining him to keep me company while I read.” At this Frumkin ran out of the door and began weaving between Caleb’s legs.

“So, this is where you were?” Caleb enquired of him in mock surprise.

“Yes, well it seemed fitting to have him around while reading my first empire fairy tales about such a one.” Essek said brandishing the book.

“You read der katzenprinz?” Caleb asked, legitimately surprised. He had assumed that Essek would have immediately gravitated towards the arcane books.

“I started with another regarding transmutation but this one seemed a bit of an odd one out in the collection so I assumed it must be of some importance to you…” Essek paused getting slightly embarrassed and then noticing how long they had been standing in the doorway.

“Would you like to come in?”

“Actually, I had a thought, if you are too tired, we don’t have to but,” he looked almost pained and rubbed his hand across his mouth and he seemed to make a decision or resolve himself “but we had not quite finished our tour I think.”

“Oh” Essek was somewhat surprised but still eager. “Yes absolutely. Lead the way.” He placed the book on a nearby table while Frumkin ran to his exit in a hole in the wall. As they began to ascend. Essek spoke up softly:

“Is there a reason that Fjord always declares his direction?”

“Other than showmanship? Absolutely not.” Caleb replied. At this Essek grinned while Caleb opened up the next level.

“I ask that you never come up here without me please Herr Theylyss. Please” he repeated while making pointed eye contact.

“Of course. Whatever it is your wish.” Essek responded genuinely but somewhat surprised as they came to a room full of doors. “What is this place?”

Caleb did not reply but instead said:

“I have only shown the others of the mighty nein this place.” and he opened the door labelled 1. Caleb closed the door behind them as Essek stepped into the humble space and began looking around.

“What is the significance of this house?” He asked before noting the far off look in Caleb’s face.

“Well, I wanted you to know why I found your choices so challenging to ignore. I wanted you to know why it is that I seem to understand so deeply the challenges you face in learning to forgive yourself for what you have done for it is still something I struggle with myself. Deeply.” Essek could sense the gravity of the space for Caleb and came closer.

“I wish you for to know, as I know your greatest transgression, but you do not know mine and it seems there is an unfair imbalance between us of late that I hope to dispel.” Essek was surprised that Caleb thought there was anything comparable to his “transgression” as he put it but thought back to some of the sadness in Caleb and some of the truth in his eyes whenever he talked about the path ahead of Essek and knew there must be something substantial coming.

“This was my home. I am sure it may be challenging for you to imagine ,coming from such a high-ranking family, but we were happy here.”

“Wealth does not inherently create happy families. In fact, I think it is likely the opposite” Essek put in softly. Caleb nodded and pointed to the small kitchen counter:

“My mother used to make bread here. She used to allow me to take small portions of the dough while she was kneading it and I would make little figures. I would -uh- use them as puppets and tell her stories of magnificent wizards who saved all of the empire from the evil creatures that threatened it. She would turn them into small buns when I was finished and told me that if I ate them, it was like making a wish, and that one day I might become that powerful wizard.” Caleb touched the surface of the table and closed his eyes for a long moment. Essek tentatively put a hand on his shoulder which remained until Caleb went over to the hearth.

“This is where I learned to love fire. My father would feed the flames and show me how to keep it well. He’d tell me that fire could hurt and burn but it could also sustain life. Once I became old enough to manage without harming myself, he let me create the fire every night to practice. Later I practiced control flames here, the first spell I ever learned from a spell book.” Caleb turned to Essek and held his gaze. Essek saw the shame and pain that was written in Caleb’s features.

“You have killed many good people in your thirst for knowledge and power. I … I am no different. I killed good, loving people who only wished that I could have been the powerful wizard who saved the empire… “Caleb swallowed and realization sunk in for Essek. “I killed my family and destroyed this home as a result of Trent Ikathon’s teaching methods. It was seen as a ‘required step in becoming the capable wizards we needed to be to protect our nation’. Still to this day he attests that it is what my family would have wanted though I don’t think our stories in the kitchen could have ever prepared them for their end.” Caleb paused attempting to collect himself. His hands were shaking a great deal, but he pushed forward “I have only just begun the journey to forgiving myself. I keep this room here, not to torture myself but to ensure that this happy home is never forgotten, never lost. Each room on this floor is a moment to be captured and preserved. I will show you another.” A few tears had fallen on Caleb’s face, but he did not seem to notice. Essek didn’t have feel he had an adequate response, but he did not want to leave this space without saying anything.

“You have performed your own dunemancy here. You fixed this in time. It is beautiful. Thank you for showing it to me.” Essek said, hoping he did not say the wrong thing. He had very limited experience with people he would consider loved ones and he had never lost one. Caleb didn’t say anything, but he nodded a thank you and pulled Essek across the hall to another room. It was Caleb’s bedroom in the xorhaus. Essek recognized it immediately by the charming cat figurines on the shelf.

“This was the space where you first entrusted me with dunamancy but I did not preserve it for this reason… I did so because it was the first time we worked together, and I realized you were very much someone I wished to know more. I saw a like mind in you...Essek, I understand exactly what the cost of knowledge and power can be and the folly of chasing them, you have seen this now, but I also understand that draw, that pull of power in a way almost no one else will. I know how easy it is to slip off the path and become a tool for destruction once more, and this is why I find it difficult to fully trust you as you have proven to me that we are too similar, and I do not trust myself even with that.” He had finally said it out loud. Essek had been hanging on the word trust ever since Caleb had said he was more trusted than Trent Ikathon, but here it was. More did not mean much at all. And how could Essek blame him when he was correct? They were very much alike, that was one of the things that had drawn Essek in and convinced Essek to teach Caleb dunamancy against his better judgement. Essek looked and stared at a cat figurine, willing his breath to slow, his eyes to focus. He did not understand what it was particularly that hurt him so much about Caleb having a perfectly, reasonably low opinion of him.

Caleb saw Essek beginning to have difficulty containing his emotions and he closed the space between them to once again place a small kiss on Essek’s forehead before placing his own against it. He put a hand around Essek’s neck gently pulling them together.

“I have said it takes time and I believe that. My path out of the pit did not move straight forward and I had many setbacks, but I have begun the journey. I did so by taking small steps -and sometimes large ones - every day to leave the world slightly better than I found it. I will never expunge my past crimes, but I can hope to maybe outweigh them in my overall impact on this world. I see you at the beginning of this journey and I know that one of the most important things in the path to redemption was having companions who walked alongside me on my way to finding it. Having the mighty nein who cared for me and loved me unconditionally, despite these terrible pieces of my past was so...essential… in my ability to begin to overcome them.” His whole body seemed to be sagging with the weight of the world and he pulled away to look in into his eyes “Essek, I know it is easy to see only our faults and everything we have done wrong, but I also know that I am still worthy of forgiveness by some, I am still worthy of friendship and chances to redeem myself and even still worthy of love. And I do not believe this myself many days but Veth and the rest of the nein refuse to allow me to forget it and on days when my belief is not enough, theirs is. And that makes me wish to strive to continue to be worthy of their belief in me. You see?”

Essek was nodding but Caleb could see he was drowning in all of his thoughts.

“Come. I have one more room to show you.” He said gently and walked out of this room. Essek blinked and felt the suddenly jarring distance between them and followed Caleb out of the room. His mind was a swarm.

Caleb placed his hands out for Essek who looked at him somewhat quizzically but took them, nonetheless. They floated up while facing one another to the final floor and Caleb revealed it to him. The floor inspired by dunamancy. Essek’s jaw dropped, and his head swivelled as he took in the room.

“It is no secret that I have a great interest in your craft, but I bring you up here not to remind you of all the power to be gained or lost but to show you of what you already have. You have unlocked so many secrets of the world, but you were never given the chance to study the most important lesson. One that also eluded me for many years. All of this “Caleb gestured out” feels so important, the stretching endless expanse of time and the motes of possibility that we can affect. But” he said firmly “It is not nearly as important as the moment we are living right now, and the people that we share that with.” Essek peeled his eyes off the expanse around them and turned his attention back to Caleb who was looking at him with an expression that he had only seen once before as they unlocked the key to the transmogrification spell. It was a mix of adrenaline, elation, apprehension and excitement. Caleb was building up to something and all Essek could do was be shocked that he was floating in this space of utter beauty and being looked at like that, as if he were the most important thing in the room, as if he was a great spell Caleb was trying to learn the inner workings of.

He began to understand the lesson Caleb was trying to impart as he could not pull his eyes away, despite being surrounded by a veritable playground for his mind, his focus was solely affixed to Caleb and what he would say next. He understood what Caleb meant to say with this room about what really mattered in a way that surprised even Essek himself. Caleb tightened his grasp on Essek’s hands and continued.

“If you will allow me to, herr Theylyss, I wish to do for you what has been done for me. I wish to be the person that reminds you that you can and will find your way back to the light. I wish to be the person who believes in you when you cannot believe in yourself, though I suspect I already have Jester’s help with that.” he quirked a small smile “ I wish to be the one who keeps you in the moment and moving forward. I wish to hold your hand” and he looked down at their joined hands “through your journey to finding yourself.” He squeezed their hands together tightly and then he looked back up with nerves clattering “Essek, you are important to me and I have felt a bond with you since the first time we studied together. That has not gone or broken the way you seem to believe. You have hurt me, yes, but I am still here to hold your hand and hoping that you will prove that my forgiveness is not for nothing. Hoping that you will find a way to be prove that all of this love that I feel for you is not unjustified... for I do not wish for it go to waste.” He searched Essek’s expression and found it unreadable.

Years of practice freezing his face in moments of panic had caused Essek to almost completely shut down while he attempted to process a response. He pulled away from Caleb slightly and sought to pull his hands into a robe he realized he wasn’t wearing. He wished he could hide how his hands were inclined to fidget.

“I uh-” He began “This is much to process.” Essek stammered out. Caleb was already feeling disappointment seep in. He knew that he had thrown a lot of uncomfortable feelings at Essek in a short amount of time, but he had hoped that there would be at least a degree of enthusiasm for his final declaration. Still, he did not want to pressure Essek.

“Of course.” Caleb said failing to hide his disappointment. “I will leave you to your thoughts Herr Theylyss” he said nodding in a formal way.

Essek was still simply busy processing the word love. He was turning it over in his mind and examining it as it was a fully novel concept to him. He tested out how it felt as a description of that odd feeling of warmth in his chest and stomach when he saw Caleb get excited, or smile, or that small tug at an invisible rope in his chest that could be felt when he saw Caleb being good at, well, almost anything. He considered if that had been why Caleb’s opinion had mattered so much more than most. And here he was, standing before Essek and telling him that he could have that love returned. That he felt that way about him. That he was somehow deserving despite all of the things that he had done.

He thought then how he had felt nothing but sympathy and sorrow for Caleb as he heard of what he had done to his parents. He did not blame him for his foolishness in trusting and believing in the things Trent Ikathon had said. Could Essek really be given the same grace?

Around the time that Caleb was just beginning to descend out of the room, Essek’s mind finally caught up with what he had said.

“No!” Essek shouted. “No. No. I did not mean it this way. I just-“ Essek took a breath and felt the mask slipping away and for once he allowed himself to be laid bare in front of someone. Caleb rose back up to his level. “I don’t know if I have ever been loved in the way that you have described. It simply took me a moment to understand. You spoke of loving parents, but I have never been more than a means to end for my family. I was a product of incredible amounts of pressure but never loving care or attention. I was to be useful. Then I became the shadowhand and I had to be distant from the rest. It was my duty to be useful to the bright queen, but it only alienated me further from my peers. It made it easy to betray them when the chance was offered because I had never been close with any of them. I regret so much of what I have done, all the pain that I have caused” Essek grabbed at his own hair and Caleb was surprised to see him allowing himself to be this expressive “but it is made far worse now knowing what friendship and love can be like. To think that I caused people to go off and fight in a war that did not matter and worse that both sides felt losses comparable to what I would feel if you were to be harmed. It feels almost unbearable to know that I could have caused that much pain” Essek began sputtering, tears streaming down his face. “And still, you stand before me and say that I am worthy of redemption and that I am worthy of love?” Essek was ranting now but it was as if so many of the feelings he had always held down couldn’t help but burst forth now that they were given a small bit of freedom. Caleb wrapped his arms around him and held him close, with one hand stroking his hair. Essek rambled on “you had it right when you said I had missed an essential lesson along the way. How could I have been so blinded by my research and studies to never see that the people they would benefit were the point, not knowledge for knowledge’s own sake? And still, you hold me as if I am something precious rather than wretched. It is a kindness greater than I deserve for truthfully, I can tell that you know the weight of what you have done, but until today, until now, I still had never comprehended the depths of the pain my actions caused… to so many.”

At this Essek dissolved into sobs and Caleb held him through them. He kept stroking Essek’s hair and gave him small soft kisses on the top of his hair and waited for the sobbing to peter out. He did everything he wished someone could have done for him when he was going through this. Eventually it seemed Essek had cried himself out. He was still shaking and there were tear lines stained into his purple skin, but he pulled himself back a little to look at Caleb. Before Essek could apologize again Caleb said again:

“It takes time.” Essek nodded sadly and put his hand out for Caleb who clasped it and kissed it his knuckles lightly. “But.” Caleb continued “that does not mean you must spend it alone. I meant what I said. If you wish to be loved and reminded of all the things you are worth and what makes the moment worth living in, I am happy to offer that to you. And perhaps together we can work to make the world a little bit better than when we found it ja? So no other young people go unloved or get led astray?”

Essek was still feeling a whole spectrum of emotions but was able to centre himself enough to unabashedly meet Caleb’s eyes and spoke.

“Yes, I think I would very much like to do that, but with one stipulation.” Caleb smiled at the return of some of Essek’s former, confident demeanor “I know you have many in your life with more experience in affection than I, but I would like to offer my love, as … untested as it imay be, in trade. Together we can hypothesize,experiment and test its bounds until you believe it is up to your standards? Do these conditions seem fair to you?” Caleb was smiling in a way that made Essek pleased, and caused him to consider being reckless once more.

“Ja I think that is accepta-” and before Caleb could finish, Essek pulled him into a kiss. He wrapped his arms around Caleb’s waist and Caleb’s hands found their way into Essek’s hair. They kissed deeply and with the release of the many conflicting emotions both of them had felt over the past weeks.

Essek found the texture of Caleb’s lips and stubble to be a bit surprising but planned on savouring every bit of the feeling. He approached this kiss almost like learning a new spell from Caleb, and followed his lead through the unfamiliar, for though Essek had kissed before, never with much feeling behind it, and this was an entirely different experience. His heart was pounding in his ears, his chest felt full of fireworks and there was something that felt hooked inside of both of them, drawing them closer. It was a startling powerful sensation.

Caleb was surprised not only by the kiss but by the intensity it quickly developed. He felt Essek’s hands pushing into his back and keeping him close, and the soft strands of essek’s hair moving beneath his fingers and the warmth of Essek’s lips and was intoxicated, drinking in every last bit of the experience that he could.

Finally, they broke apart, both flushed and breathing heavily. Essek found himself smoothing down the front of Caleb’s shirt for something to do and pulling a few pieces of cat hair off of it as he asked:

“May I ask something of your path to redemption?” He continued to try to compose his features but couldn’t resist the smile that kept making itself known on his face. It was a broader smile than Caleb had ever seen on Essek and it made his chest squeeze. He thought it would be a new mission of his to procure that smile more often.

“Yes Essek?”

“If we do not have to be alone, are we also allowed happiness? For I must admit that I think this is the happiest I have been in… sometime, perhaps ever.” Caleb thought and looked serious.

“I think so yes. I have to believe that is so.”

“In that case, I think we should kiss more often.” And at that Caleb laughed a full and genuine laugh and kissed Essek on the cheek following by cupping his face in his hands, allowing his thumb draw over the spot that was just kissed.

“Ja. That can certainly be arranged.” and he pulled Essek’s face down for another kiss on the forehead. “But for tonight I think it best if we both get some rest.” He grabbed Essek’s hand once more and descended into the tower, closing doorways behind them until they stopped at Essek’s room.

“I think I may need some time to wind down after all of that” Essek admitted.

“I think I shall be similar.” Caleb agreed.

“In that case, do you wish to read a while with me? Only I had noticed someone had placed 2 chairs in my reading nook.” Essek said with a conspiratorial smile. Caleb seemed to debate with himself a moment before coming in.

“But if I do not recover my spells, I will have to blame you Theylyss.”

“These terms are acceptable to me” Essek replied with a smile that belied his serious tone. And they each took an armchair and began reading, with their hands held between them.

Eventually Essek awoke from a trance he hadn’t even noticed he’d fallen into. His book had fallen into his lap and his hand had drifted out of Caleb’s somewhere in the night. He only required a short trance to be rested but Caleb would need more sleep and was currently snoring lightly from his armchair. Essek cautiously placed both of their books aside and used his levitation spell to float Caleb gently over to the bed. He tucked Caleb in and gave him the gentlest kiss on the forehead and then used the chalkboard above the bed to scrawl I was worried about your neck and shoulders which he felt had just the right amount of cheeky touch.

Essek pondered getting into the bed as well but felt it may be too presumptuous, so instead he sat at the desk at his study and began writing out the events of the night, hoping to capture it’s every detail. Though he had a good memory, he hoped to preserve this turning point for himself the way Caleb preserved history in his rooms upstairs. So, he wrote while Caleb slept.

When the hustle and bustle of the others moving about the tower finally awoke Caleb, he had the moment of concern that arises when waking in a different spot than where you fell asleep, until he saw the message above the bed and smiled to himself.

“The world better watch out if one kiss is all it takes to get Essek Theylyss to start writing jokes” Caleb called out to the room.

Essek came over, looking somehow more perfect than ever this morning (Caleb being unaware that Essek had fussed by the mirror for 20 minutes for the perfectly tousled look…) and handed Caleb a coffee that he had summoned via the cat system. Caleb took it gratefully as he sat up in bed and Essek came to sit next to him on the edge of the bed.

“Imagine what will happen after 2,3 or even 100 kisses?” Caleb continued his jibe. Essek simply raised an eyebrow at him:

“I suppose we will have to test it to find out.”

“I suppose we will” Caleb replied with a grin.

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tarithenurse · 4 years

Text

Stolen - 18

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson &/x fem!gifted!reader Content: Doubt, angst, pining, fluff, feels. A/N: Some days just suck, flaring up with all the depressive symptoms and I have to fight to remember that everyone can have a bad day. That it doesn’t mean I’m regressing into a new full-blown relapse.

18. White Knuckles

... Reader ...

Insane, insane, insane, logic sings in your head on repeat.

The tune had begun when Loki navigated the ship low over a barren planet littered with grey gravel and cliffs only to suddenly aim it at a steep incline without any indication of stopping or following the slope. Even as you shut your eyes tight, you regretted very few events of your (too short) life – but the crash never came. Instead, Loki brought the spacecraft to an abrupt halt and urged you to take a look. You didn't believe what you saw until the Asgardian had brought you outside the ship and let you wander through the cave barely big enough to house the vessel. What was harder to fathom was the view beyond the hiding spot.

Distance didn't matter when the inevitable limit to a journey was a sharp edge with a drop into space itself. You knew the view even if you never had been there yourself, and every instinct told you to run, to avoid the fall at all costs. But at the same time, the breathtaking landscape – more beautiful than the Norwegian fjord even – drew your heart towards it, funnelling your gaze until it found the City of Gold. Valhalla.

Sitting at the mouth of the cave now, side by side with Loki, the setting sun cuts the disc-world below with dark shadows.

"It's so...peaceful."

The god hums at your words. "So it can seem." And you know what it means because the pain that haunts him is also a part of you and has been since he shared the memories. "Yet...your presence does sweeten the bitterness of returning to this place."

The lilt in his voice makes it clear he's teasing you even if you secretly wish he was speaking the truth. Rolling you eyes, you don't try to hide the groan though. "Shut up."

"I can busy my mouth in other ways, however you won't be silent for long then."

Oh god. His insinuation and your own dirty mind is all it takes for heat to build in your core and face. A moment passes where you don't dare wriggle to relieve the sweet itch the slightest. Gaze locked on the distant castle, you try to ignore Loki as he leans in and inhales deeply. Is he smelling me? Oh fuck, can he smell stuff? Oh shitohshitohshit! A cool hand lands on your knee and rips you from the panicked train of thoughts.

"My sweet, there's no use in hiding your desires."

Fuck! Scurrying to get away from him and his magical nose, you almost fall when you push to your feet and hightail it back onboard the spaceship to hide in your cabin.

...

He’s hot...and he’s been nice. The argument seems sort of solid, for a moment. Yeah, and he’s absolutely the kind of fucker to abuse that knowledge to get what he wants or just mess with people. God of Mischief, all right! You sigh into the darkness of the night, more or less assured Loki’s having fun at your expense.

... Loki ...

Three days of training the mortal about mannerisms at a royal court – more specifically the Asgardian court – and the former prince still has doubts she can succeed in selling the altered truth. His concern doesn’t stem from lack of decorum or choice of greetings, though, it’s simply [Y/N]’s lack of confidence.

“Pet,” the Jotun tisks, “you already have done this before.” She scowls at him but doesn’t object. “Remember...you’re the hero of Alfheim.”

The woman straightens up, pushes her shoulders back, and lifts her chin – none of it sudden, rather slowly as the compliment brushes away any objections she reaches for by habit. Beautiful. The confidence radiates from her, nearly blinding Loki who has no intention of shielding his gaze anymore.

“Damn straight! I rock and I’ll walk up to those guards and to the queen like...like...but Loki she’s a queen!”

[Y/N]’s cheeks are hot against his palms as he locks her gaze. “She is, but merely think of her as my mother.”

As always when the girl worries, her bottom lip pays the sweet price. “Yeah. No. That’s not helping.”

“She’s kind and wise. Treats everyone with respect,” the fallen prince explains, heart spilling over for once although the descriptions seem to be about someone else too, “her gentleness improves the world, and her love inspires those around her to strive for excellence.”

A mere hand’s length divide Loki’s lips from the Midgardian’s. A gentle dip is all it would require to experience the softness and taste the sweetness of eternity with a sweep of the tongue. Would she give in? Perhaps she would. She might kiss him back, give him all he longs for freely – including her heart – and he would covet her love. Then her affections would freeze as she comes to understand, a bitterness reminds him, some monsters aren’t changeable.

Letting go, he turns aside and pretends to busy himself with the book he has brought from his cabin. In it, is a brief summary of the history of Asgard, now with scraps of parchment to mark the passages suitable to serve as examples of court culture.

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pine-siskin-agere · 3 years

Text

Prompt by @agerefandom

1. Character B buying Character A their first stuffed animal (liberal use of the word ‘buying’ here)

fandom: Critical Role (The Mighty Nein)

Characters: Nott and Caleb centric.

Warnings: Ask to tag.

Word count: 1,114 (Hell yeah, my goal was only 1000)

Disclaimer: I am not a writer by any means, I am sorry if this is bad or out of character. This also has a weird writing style so I understand if it wasn’t nice to read, I would probably put down a book if it was written like this but that might just be me being overly critical. Criticism is welcome.

Caleb’s hand brushed over the soft fabric, fur maybe?

He was never sure, he had no need to be sure- it was just fabric.

He glanced around the store to make sure the rest of the nein was not around before picking the stuffed cat up. Fur, he was almost sure it was fur. Maybe not real fur? No, not real fur.

He moved on, giving it a small squeeze. It was a tad worn, more than a tad worn, he wondered if it had many owners.

Children Caleb, Children owned it, put it down Caleb.

The thought came to him suddenly, he shook his head a bit, stroking the fur around it’s face.

It was a tabby cat, silver tabby, it reminded him of Frumpkin.

He didn’t need it. He had Frumpkin.

It’s for kids. I am a kid, I need to be a kid.

The thought was startling, he put the stuffed animal down, moving on to spell components.

Frumpkin would occasionally rub his forehead against his arm while he shopped.

He wondered if he was jealous, or maybe he was trying to comfort Caleb.

He was not able to find spell components, he found books.

Lots of books.

He had five books in total, he would spend his money on all of them.

Yes, he would spend all his money and forget about the cat. He and Nott would continue to travel with the Nein. They would do more jobs. Make more gold and he would forget about the cat, he would never have these thoughts again.

Even back at the inn his mind wandered to the cat.

It was a stuffed animal, it had no soul, no life, it did not even make noise.

But he still felt guilty to leave it.

He turned the page of his book, he wasn’t sure if it was a good book.

Fictional for sure, this was not how magic worked.

He found it amusing. The author could have researched real magic or talked to a real wizard, yet they still bothered to create a fake magic system. He almost admired it. The story was about two witches. He was getting a sense of romantic tension between the two but found it doubtful. The plot had no room for romance, it was a mess as is.

He turned the page.

He continued reading for maybe five minutes before he felt a hand tug his sleeve.

Nott’s hand, he knew that hand.

Without looking at her he carefully folded the page he was on and put the book next to him.

“Caleb? Are you okay? You’ve been weird, well, more then I’m used to- Did someone hurt you? Who hurt you?”

Caleb stifled a grin, Nott had a habit of jumping to the strangest conclusions for behaviors.

“No. No one hurt me”

Before he could even think of another word Nott spoke again.

“Well what is it? You’ve been staring at that book for thirty minutes and you’re not even halfway through.”

Caleb had to admit that it was a bit heartwarming. That Nott cared enough to notice a small detail like that, almost motherly of her, she would be a good mom. He wished she could be his mom.

He shoved the though away so abruptly that he might have flinched, maybe he did flinch.

Nott looked at him in alarm, pulling him into a hug. Goblins gave good hugs.

“Please Caleb, what’s up?”

He bit his lip, he did not mean to worry his friend, he tried to recall the last time he had heard Nott say the word ‘please.’

“Well.”

He hesitated, he did not know how to say it, not in common at least.

“I saw something at the shop, it was nice.” He bit his lip at how stupid he must sound.

Nott’s face scrunched up in confusion.

“Well, then we can go back and buy it!”

“I spent my money on books.”

It was only half a lie, how could he even begin to explain what happened? His thoughts? His feelings? It was weird. He didn’t understand his feelings. How could Nott understand his feelings?

“How much did it cost?”

Caleb blinked in surprise.

“Nott, , , I can’t ask you to do that, I can get over it?

“What was it? We can’t just leave it behind, you wanted it!”

Caleb sighed in frustration, tired, he was tired.

Frumpkin jumped onto Caleb’s lap, Nott scratched behind the cat’s ear.

“Nott, I want to sleep, please can we let it go?”

Nott looked at him in concern but nodded, getting up to blow out the candle on the desk and curling up next to Caleb.

Caleb woke up the next morning with a pounding headache.

Nott was gone when he woke up, looking out the window he realized that he slept in.

Quickly stumbling out of bed he got dressed. Having to start over after messing up his shirt buttons was tedious.

The tavern was obnoxiously lively. He should have expected it.

Jester was harassing the poor tavern patrons. Normal.

Beau and Yasha were making strange sounds and faces at each other. Caleb assumed this was supposed to be some sort of staring contest but he was never sure with these two. This was normal.

Fjord and Molly were not in sight, he wondered if it was possible for either of them to sleep in longer then he had. Not quite normal.

Nott greeted him with a wave of her hand. He couldn’t quite see from under her mask and hood but she looked concerned. Not normal.

He sat down next to her, ignored her immediate urge to cover her food and growl.

“About last night.” Was the first thing she said. Caleb wished it wasn’t the first thing she said.

“Not now.”

“Why not?” He wished she would not speak with her mouth full of bacon.

“Not here..” He was surprised she even heard him over the sound of Jester’s laughter.

They spent the rest of breakfast in silence.

Once Nott finished growling at her bacon like some rabid cat she grabbed Caleb’s arm and led him away.

“About last night.”

“It is not important, you do not need to waste your coin.”

He did not like her grin at that.

“Of course not, we can just take it!”

Before he could protest Nott had taken his hand and started running for the shop.

They kept their voices low.

“Where is it?”

Nott muttered to him.

He had no room to back out now, he led her to the stuffed cat.

It was more tempting then before.

Nott immediately put it into her bag.

“Of course.”

#age regression fics #agere writing #cr agere #little!Caleb #Mama!Nott #Agere content #fandom agere

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cadaceus · 3 years

Text

C2E131

Hello and welcome to my liveblogs for Campaign 2, Episode 131 of Critical Role: “Into the Eye.” There was so much Yasha content which I am always a sucker for, and we also finally got a much-anticipated return to Eiselcross! I have loved the interlude but I must admit I have been itching to get back into this arc. Without further ado, here are my spoiler-filled liveblogs and yelling about this episode!

- I have classes that start in five hours but I’m here watching the latest episode of Critical Role because I know a few spoilers and I am just too eager to see how things play out!

- “I need you all to look under your dice trays” has such “I need you to look in the back of your binder” energy omg, I love how this format still allows Matt to have these really cool moments of surprise for the cast!

- I love Travis the #1 Yasha hype man!!

- Sam’s “Tempest Cloudburst” accent... Tony?! Is that you?!

- The girlfriend storm fiend thingie killing one of the ones that wants to hurt Yasha, everyone say thank you Low Barometric Pressure!

- YASHA USING THE LIGHTNING TO SUSTAIN HER RAGE IS SO BADASS

- The Beauyasha moment... I am so soft for them, Beau calling Yasha her significant other, “hold me,” Beau holding Yasha’s hands as they fall asleep together in the safety from the storm... 😭

- VANDRAN IS READING TUSK LOVE???? LMAOOOOO

- Jester kind of crying when she’s talking to Fjord about Vandran..... aweee

- “--if only to take that fucking book away!” “wHAT NO!!” please Fjorester is so soft too, I love their little scenes together and their banter

- HELP Caduceus’s casual wave at 1:35:40 when Fjord says “You are [naked.] And so are they.” is so funny sfghjdkl

- Please don’t work alongside Ikithon oh my god?? You just spent three episodes running away from him (Luc died for it)?? Last time you worked with a group of people you didn’t trust they literally stabbed you in the back and left you for dead?? Astrid and Eadwulf, sure, but not Ikithon pleaseee

- Liam’s Dunamancy die serving him well!!

- “You’re just assuming that you’ll live?” “I’m going to be fine, yeah” STOP I LOVE YASHA SO MUCH

- Yes, TJ and Luc friendship arc please!

- “I’m calling my favor” the Dashilla callback aahhh that moment was still so iconic

- Did Matt drop Essek’s accent when Essek speaks in Undercommon? I might just be reading too much into things but it would be really neat if he did!

- “This my look of surprise” TDFGHKFJLGHG I dearly love Essek “I am but a humble, selfish creature” Thelyss but I have also missed Shadowhand Essek “There is nothing I would love more than to not be around you all for the remainder of this day” Thelyss as well lmaooo

- The dunamancy die giving a Nat 1 on the Ikithon proposal, I knew I could trust that die

- Jester saying “We all appreciate that, Essek” after he takes his shirt off for an eye check is so funny fhjgkg I love her

- “One person that we can trust is better than three we cannot” He trusts Essek again, even if it’s just a tiny bit that’s still progress 😭

- Essek intentionally (or unintentionally?) using the “make this up to you” phrase that Caleb had emphasized before... it’s about the mirrorisms....

- “Who among us has not handed over the most precious item in our country’s possession?” Not to be an Essek apologist on main but....... yeah udhkdfh

- I’M GENUINELY SO EXCITED FOR THURSDAY, not only do we get more of Essek (always a win), but we also might get some sort of showdown or them heading into the ruins... I’m so interested in what will happen! (And I think I’ll be watching live this time!)

#critical role #cr spoilers #c2e131 #my liveblogs #cr2 #if my next 3-5 liveblogs are just full of me. yelling about essek. please look away i'm embarrassed too but i care him fkhjglgjl #also sorry this is late i've been away! and new term of classes started! but oh how i love thee mighty nein <3

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itcameuponamidnightqueer · 4 years

Note

Beaujes prompt? First kiss?

and you stood at your door with your hands on my waist,and you kissed me like you meant it.and i knew that you meant it(that you meant it)

“Talk to her,” Fjord says, his words dripping with more than a little frustration.

You roll your eyes and fling a handful of sand back at him.

It’s new, this thing you do together. Caduceus is so good at meditating, so comfortable with being still. But you and Fjord—the son of no one and the daughter of too many—are still struggling with it. He seems very intent on establishing himself as a proper follower of Melora, someone who takes time to consider his role and relationship with his god. Fjord is settling nicely into piety, and you simply need to learn how to exist comfortably inside yourself.

So most mornings you sit together wherever you are, even if it’s just for a few minutes. You have coats and furs when there’s snow, the shelter of trees for rain, boulders to shield against strong winds. No matter the weather, you find time to be calm with each other.

And so you find yourself on a beach in Nicodranas, sitting back-to-back with one of your first friends, watching the sun rise over the ocean. This is your favorite place in the entire world, and only slightly because of the place itself.

Fjord is breaking protocol by speaking but you’re not too bothered; you were itching to move anyway.

“It’s not—it’s stupid,” you mumble. “But I can’t.”

“Beau, if anyone can talk to Jester—and really, anyone can—it’s certainly you.”

“No, I know, but like—” You dig your hands into the sand and clam up, digging as much as you can within your reach until you find a rock. It’s a small one, and you’re too far away from the water to make it in, but you throw it anyway.

“Do you think you’ll ruin your friendship?” Fjord prods.

You’ve thought about that before, when you first told Nott about your crush on Jester. It used to worry you but it doesn’t anymore, not after spending time with Jester afterwards without noticing any changes. Certainly there were changes on your end—feelings sit differently within you once you’ve said them out loud—but Jester was the same, cheery and understanding and so, so bright. She relaxed you immediately even if she didn’t know she was doing it.

“No,” you finally reply. “But it’s like—remember how Yasha was once we got her back? Like, how it just seemed like she was waiting for one of us to beat her up and she kind of flinched whenever we smiled? It’s like that.”

“I don’t follow.”

You sigh. “Whatever she feels, Jester is going to be so nice about it, and I—I can’t handle that, man.”

“So you’re just going to suffer in silence?”

“What are you guys talking about?” Jester yells, and you’re more startled than you should be. You whip around to see that she’s maybe thirty feet away, smiling and carrying a plate of donuts.

You elbow Fjord as hard as you can without Jester noticing. “You couldn’t warn me she was coming?” you hiss. “I’m gonna make you suffer.”

“Oh, I’m quaking in my boots,” Fjord responds monotonously. But you feel him rubbing his side, and you’re soothed.

You get up and dust off your pants, walking over to Jester to take the plate from her hands. “Nothing, Jes,” you say with a smile. “Just meditating.”

“Okay.” She hugs you, squishes in closer the way she does when she’s cold and wants to steal your warmth. You can’t fight a smile even as you roll your eyes, hugging back with the hand not holding the plate. As she pulls away she presses a kiss to your cheek, leaving behind a few sugar crystals; you wonder if maybe that was closer to the corner of your mouth than she intended.

“Uh…”

“Good morning, Beau!” she chirps.

“Yeah, mornin’.”

Jester hugs Fjord with the same enthusiasm; he gives you a very deliberate look over Jester’s shoulder and you furiously shake your head.

“Are you guys about to work out or can we eat a big sugary breakfast?”

You should say no. You should stick to your training. Your body is your weapon and you can’t run the risk of letting it malfunction.

Your father and the monks trained you to be hard—for Jester, you will endure sentiment and sweetness.

“We can take a day off, I guess.”

Fjord quickly pumps his fist as the three of you sit down, plate of breakfast pastries in the middle as you all face each other. Jester immediately grabs the biggest one and smiles at you as she takes a bite, her eyes twinkling as if she knows a very good secret.

It takes everything you have not to visibly swoon. From the way Fjord coughs, you think maybe you did anyway.

Fuck, you have to talk to her.

But Jester sweeps you up in her energy the same way she always does, pulling you along for the ride and allowing you to forget, even for a few hours, about the part of you that is going to explode one of these days.

Every time you’re in Nicodranas, Jester wants to be outside, to do something fun or show you some special, secret place. But you’re just as happy to stay inside as long as you’re with her, so you don’t mind when it starts to rain and the two of you hole up in her bedroom.

It’s just as chaotic as Jester is, which isn’t a surprise. There are drawings and figurines shoved into drawers and shelves, worn and well-read books piled wherever there’s room. Organized chaos, but chaos nonetheless. You smile to yourself over the next few hours as you imagine Jester at the Cobalt Soul, frustrating every monk who might have tried to rein her in. Not even Dairon has that much patience, you’d wager.

As the afternoon wears on into evening and the rain doesn’t stop, both of you mellow out, setting aside card games and childhood mementos for storytelling. You never had any of this growing up, the kind of bonding that comes at night when people are relaxed and close to each other. You got along with some kids at school but your father was too protective to let you out of the house even for a night. Eventually, your friend group tightened and moved on without you.

You never really missed it until Jester, until you found someone with whom you deserved to share quiet nights.

“Beau?”

Your head bounces a little from where it rests on Jester’s stomach as she speaks. You’re both laying down—Jester vertically, her ankles crossed over each other, and you horizontally, so you can bounce a rubber ball off her wall. Using her as a pillow is just an added bonus, really, and you’re sure she would have suggested it if you hadn’t assumed.

“Hm?”

“We haven’t really talked about, well, about Kamordah, and I totally understand if you don’t want to, I really do, but—we’re best friends, right?”

“‘Course we are.”

“And best friends should be able to say everything to each other, even the hard things.”

You catch the ball and don’t throw it again. “Especially the hard things,” you say, trying very hard to calm your quickening pulse.

“Okay.”

Jester rests her hands near your head, absently tickling your hairline whenever her fingers get close enough.

“What’s up, Jes?”

“Do you think you’ll ever go back?” she asks, tripping over her words.

You crinkle your brows. “What, like to stay? Not a chance.”

“No, no; not to stay. But, family is complicated and I know your dad is a shitbag. He doesn’t deserve you, any part of you, and I wanted to punch him so much…” Jester takes a calming breath or two; you turn your head and look up at her, at the way she consciously works to relax her pursed lips. You can’t help laughing when she catches your eye.

She smiles back and scratches your forehead on purpose this time.

“You would be such a good big sister,” Jester says, her eyes soft and sincere. “You’re so good, Beau—you’re so, so good—and you deserve the chance to give that to someone.”

“What do you think I keep you around for?” you tease.

By the way she looks at you, you think maybe Jester didn’t take it as teasing.

“Right,” she says, laughing halfheartedly. “It’s stupid; I shouldn’t tell you how to feel about your family.” She sits up on her elbows and looks out of the window, sighing when the rain doesn’t stop. “Sorry we’ve been stuck inside all day.”

You hum, just a little noise to show you’re there, that you’re listening. You want to pull her fingers down and tangle them with yours.

“What would you do,” you ask gently, “if you had a sibling?”

“Oh my gosh.” Jester huffs out a large breath; you can practically see the swirl of images and fantasies that must be playing in her mind. “I would teach them so much, like how to steal food from the kitchen or sneak up on Bluud or how to prank Mama’s clients, except I would make sure they were better at it than I was so they wouldn’t get caught.”

“You’d still want to get caught?”

“Well, yah,” Jester says, like it’s the most obvious answer. “If I hadn’t gotten caught, Mama wouldn’t have sent me away and I wouldn’t have found you. It’s like, I guess it’s like you and the Cobalt Soul only with less kidnapping.”

“Mm. Yeah, that’s a good thing to not have in your life.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have needed the Traveler if I had a sibling,” Jester muses. Maybe the Traveler wouldn’t have needed you, you think, but that’s a conversation for another day.

“That’s okay, though,” she continues. “I found most of this stuff on my own anyway.” She gestures to the knick-knacks that litter the room. “I guess it sounds stupid, when I put it like that. Wanting a sibling just so I can show them pranks.”

“Are you kidding? That’s exactly what siblings are made for.” You sit up and try not to jostle Jester too much. You look around the room, taking stock of all the stolen trinkets and homemade crafts. “Here, okay.” You stand and reach for a music box on Jester’s bedside table. “This? This is the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

You cross the room and reach for a figurine on top of Jester’s bookcase that seems to be made of dried fruit and noodles. “This?” you say, pointing to it with an exaggerated finger. “Also the coolest fucking thing. And this?” You reach for a small ceramic owlbear, holding it between two knuckles as the noodle-man rests in your palm. “Absolutely fucking rad. This whole room is full of memories, Jes. Even if you only wanted a sibling just to share this stuff….what a gift, man. There’s like—” You flip the owlbear into the air and catch it on the back of your hand. “I could spend a whole day in here, just to listen to you tell me the stories of how you got all these things.”

You shove your hands in your pockets and look around at the piles and stacks of brightly colored novelties. Something buzzes inside your chest, a forgotten yearning. “Maybe I will go back again,” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

But Jester is waiting for you when you turn back around. She’s standing so close you’re not sure how you didn’t hear her sneaking up on you.

“Do you mean that?” she whispers. Your face falls at the heaviness in her cheeks, the worry and wet in her eyes.

“What, about Kamordah? I dunno,” you shrug. “Not for my parents, but TJ—”

“No.” Jester shakes her head. “No, not Kamordah. About—about all these stupid things.”

“Oh. Well, yeah.” You rock back on your heels a little. “Nothing’s stupid when it’s yours, Jes.”

She looks at you like she might cry, like she’s carrying entire worlds behind her eyes and they’re on the verge of spilling out. You think about the few people you’ve looked at like that—you wonder, just a little—but no—

Jester kisses you just as you’re trying not to get your hopes up.

It’s clumsy, little more than just a firm press of her lips, but it’s so—Jester is everywhere else, insistent and enveloping. She walks you backwards and your surprised when your back hits her door—surely you were floating a moment ago.

Jester rests her hands on your hips; she’s unsure where to put them, you can tell. You also couldn’t care less, and you wrap your arms around her and kiss her until you run out of breath.

“Fuck, Jes,” you huff, at the same time that she heaves and “Oh my god, Beau.”

Both of you laugh, quiet and special and only for each other.

“Well.” You lick your lips, cup her cheek and swipe your thumb gently over the bridge of her nose. “We have some things to talk about.”

“Mhm.”

“But maybe, we could nap first?”

Jester smiles and nods, takes your hand and leads you back to her bed. You realize when you lie down that you’re still holding the two toys.

Jester lifts up her covers and waits for you to settle against her. You balance the owlbear and pasta-creature on her stomach and laugh as they immediately fall over.

“I’m gonna fall asleep soon,” you yawn, “but tell me a story first.”

Jester’s voice is just as warm as her arms, and when you sleep, you dream of her.

#critical role #jestergard #beaujester #jester lavorre #beauregard lionett #cr: regular nein #tumblr fic #anon i hope you're still around five hours later!!#and many many thanks for the prompt :)#long post

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ailelie · 3 years

Text

In which Fjord and Jester invite Caleb into their relationship.

It starts when Caleb dreams of Jester and talks in his sleep. Fjord, on watch, overhears and realizes that Caleb likes Jester.

After the initial jealousy, he realizes that Caleb is not doing anything to pursue her.

In fact, Caleb offers to help set up a date for Fjord and Jester as he did for Beau and Yasha. Fjord initially declines, but then Caleb responds, "Ah, ja, of course. It is available, though, that's all." And he seems resigned, which is what leads Fjord to go, "Actually..."

The date is perfect. It feels like a gift. Fjord has trouble enjoying it, though, because he only really sees Caleb going all out for Jester. But he also sees Caleb trying to ensure their relationship is a success and it opens up a small pit of guilt he knows he has no reason to feel. He isn't responsible for Caleb's feelings. Caleb isn't acting on his feelings. Jester chose him. And yet.

When he catches Caleb having a nightmare on another night at the end of his watch, Fjord awakens Veth for the next watch and asks what should be done. Veth says Caleb needs to be held and Fjord says "All right" before Veth can do anything. He lays down behind Caleb and pulls him in close and feels him relax against his chest. Sleep follows quickly. When he awakens, he is still holding Caleb and Jester is watching them, her fingers twitching for a pencil. Fjord blushes and stammers to explain, which awakens Caleb who goes red as he pulls away. Jester just laughs and waves all explanations and embarrassment away.

Later Fjord asks Caleb how frequently he has nightmares and Caleb first pushes him off with an "I'm fine." But Fjord pushes and Caleb holds out his arm and asks, "What do you think?" Which is an answer for sure.

Fjord starts to pay more attention. He sees Caleb always accepting more than his share of the blame and thinks again about how he has never even hinted to Jester about his feelings.

They all reach an evening of safety and rest. Beau and Yasha go on a date. Veth goes out with her family. Caduceus goes to his room early and Caleb steals a corner table to sit and work. And Fjord looks at Jester and thinks about going out with her, but instead he says "Do you want to stay here? Bother Caleb?" Jester glances at the table and says "He does look like he needs company." The band in the tavern starts playing and Jester grins. "We should make him dance, but let's dance you and me first." Fjord smiles, relieved for multiple reasons. "All right." They dance the first three songs before crashing at Caleb's table. Then Jester is up and wheedling Caleb into a dance. He doesn't deny her. Fjord knew he wouldn't. How could anyone deny Jester? He watches them. Jester flies. Caleb cracks a smile. Fjord moves toward them before he realizes what he is doing. "Cutting in?" Caleb asks like he expects it and Fjord wants to knock him off kilter, so he says "Yes" and then, turning to Jester asks, "Do you mind?" Jester beams and steps away with an elaborate bow. "By all means," she says, gesturing to Caleb. Fjord takes her place in the dance. Caleb's eyes widen and he laughs in surprise. They finish the dance and the next before Jester cuts back in and reclaims Caleb. They dance and then Fjord and Jester dance again. Eventually they get tired and collapse together at the corner table. "That was a lot of fun," Jester says. "We should do that more often." "We are usually running these days," Caleb notes. "You should have gone out like Beau and Yasha. No reason to--" "We had fun," Fjord cuts in. "Are having fun," he corrects. "Yeah, Caleb," Jester says, drawing out Caleb's name in a way Fjord has only recently started paying attention to. "Are you not having fun?" "No," he answers softly, "I am." And, in the candle and torch light, Fjord feels content.

The next time he and Jester are alone they are shopping and it isn't a date, but every moment spent with Jester feels like a gift. This time, though, part of him is absent. "You know, Fjord," Jester says suddenly. "If you have something to tell me, you should just tell me." "What?" he asks, surprised. "You still like me, don't you?" she asks. Fjord draws back. "Yes, of course I do. Why do you even ask?" "I knew you do," Jester says, smiling. "But, Fjord, do you like Caleb, too?" And the question throws him entirely. "No," he says automatically, but Jester just gives him an unimpressed look. "If you say so," she says, unconvinced. Fjord is certain in his 'no' until he sees Caleb again. His hair has fallen loose from its tie again. His fingertips are stained with ink. He glances up when Fjord and Jester return and nods at them and Fjord thinks shit. Because Caleb likes Jester, not Fjord. This is a mess. He can't like two people at once. Jester apparently reads his thoughts on his face, because she just raises her brow at him and Fjord can feel his face warm with a blush. "Is everything all right?" Caleb asks. Jester grabs Fjord's hand and squeezes it. "Everything is perfect," she says. "Is it?" Fjord asks in a low voice. "It can be," Jester replies. Caleb looks between them, clearly at a loss. "All right then."

“What did you mean earlier,” Fjord asks that night when he and Jester are on watch together. “About what?” Jester asks. Her head is resting on his shoulder. Their hands are entwined. “Everything is perfect?” “Oh. Relationships can have more than two people, Fjord,” she says, utterly matter-of-fact. “You should read more books.” “I suppose I should.” He waits a moment and then asks, “Is that something you want?” “For you to read more?” Jester asks in a tone of voice that he knows is teasing, but Fjord isn’t in the mood for banter. “Caleb.” “I don’t know. I liked seeing you together dancing.” “You were gorgeous with him.” “He’s pretty too. And he likes pranks. Did you see him leave a celebone with Allura?” “I must have missed that.” “He always goes along with my tricks.” “Are we really going to do this?” “I think so. I’m going to have boyfriends.” He kisses the back of her hand.

The next time they are going to bed, Fjord snags Caleb’s sleeve. “Are you sure you’ll be all right alone.” “Ja, I’ll be fine.” Caleb seems mystified by his concern. Fjord catches Jester’s eye. She claps her hands together. “We should have a sleepover,” she declares. Caleb caves to her like Fjord knew he would, but the rest of the group prefers their beds. “If you need to cuddle,” Jester says to Caleb later, “you should say something.” “I don’t need--” “You have nightmares,” Fjord cuts in. “Veth said it helps if you’re held?” Caleb’s cheeks are burning red. “I’m fine.” “Please let us help you, Caleb.” She takes his hands into her own. Fjord puts a hand on his shoulder. He feels the moment Caleb gives in. The sleepover is nixed, but that night, Fjord and Jester go to Caleb’s room. Caleb lets them in without looking in their eyes. “This is really not necessary.” “You need sleep, Caleb.” So they curl into bed together. Fjord holds Jester’s hand over Caleb’s hip. “This is ridiculous,” Caleb says. “Go to sleep,” Fjord says, pressing his and Jester’s hands down. Caleb quiets and eventually falls asleep.

In the morning Jester asks Caleb if he had a nightmare that night and Caleb says, “No.” Fjord stretches. “So we’re doing that more often then?” He is shocked at how easy this is. He likes being in on a scheme with Jester. He likes provoking the pink in Caleb’s cheeks. When they exit Caleb’s room, Fjord gives Jester a kiss. “We’re still okay, right?” “Yes,” she promises. Veth’s door opens and she catches them outside Caleb’s. She raises both brows. “Did you get lost?” Fjord’s cheeks burn, but Jester just lightly answers, “No.”

From then on, Fjord and Jester spend time together shopping and on watches, but they also make an effort to draw Caleb in when they can. They pull him into conversation over dinner and crowd his bed at night.

“What is this?” Caleb asks one night, letting them into his room. “Wouldn’t you rather spend your night together rather than with me?” Jester looks at Fjord and he realizes that this is move. “We like you,” he says gruffly. “What?” Caleb asks, blankly. “But you’re together.” “And we want to be together with you, too,” Jester says, “But even if you say ‘no’ we’ll still cuddle with you at night so that you can sleep.” “I need to think.” He goes into his bedroom. Fjord grabs Jester’s hand. “Do you think we should have said something sooner?” “Maybe.” They fall asleep in on the couch in the outer chamber, awakening when Caleb finds them early in the morning. It is clear he hasn’t slept. “You like me.” He says it like an accusation. Fjord stretches. “Yes.” Part of him wants to pull Caleb down onto the couch with him and Jester. “Why?” “Lots of reasons, Caleb.” “You’re generous,” Fjord says.” Jester nods, her horns scratch against his neck. “Kind.” “A good man.” “And cute.” Caleb closes his eyes, pained. “You know what I’ve done. You can’t--” “We do and we can.” “You like us, too, don’t you, Caleb?” Jester asks. “That doesn’t matter.” His hands are in fists at his side. And Fjord feels something like hope, because until now he had thought Caleb only liked Jester, that this relationship might only ever be hinge, but Caleb cannot meet either of their gazes. He has a chance. “Will you promise to think more on it?” Fjord asks. “On us?” “I still don’t understand, but I will.” It is enough for now.

There is a fight. There’s always a fight. Their lives are tiny isles of calm surrounded by chaos of running and fighting. No one nearly dies, but in the aftermath, Fjord pulls Jester into a tight hold and kiss. When he lets go, he sees Caleb watching them and so he holds out his hand to pull Caleb into the embrace. To his delight, Caleb accepts.

Jester gifts them both with a set of romantic novels about polyamorous relationships.

They figure things out.

#fjord/jester/caleb #not!fic #look i know this is ridiculous and bordering OOC #but the latest episodes are all stress #and this is the product of that stress

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mithrilwren · 4 years

Text

Shadows and Light

On the evening of the Nein's return to Xhorhas, Essek finds himself wandering past their door again, searching for... well, if he knew the answer to that question, this would all be so much simpler.

Basically, Essek and the M9 hang out, because this poor boy deserves a break. Also on Ao3.

-----

With all likelihood, they won’t even be there.

The Mighty Nein are just as likely to have returned to the Empire by now as to have stayed the night in Rosohna, Essek reasons, even as the inescapably logical portion of his mind soundly rejects the hypothesis.

(They said they were for us, for the Dynasty, and even if most of them are from the Empire…

And even if…)

It’s just a walk, is his second justification. A chance to clear my mind. He has work to do – reports piling up on his desk, people to message before the day is done – but he can spare fifteen minutes, surely, to breath in the night air and recenter himself. It might make him more productive when he returns to his study, and at the same time he can check for watchers-on in the vicinity of the house, or any sign of illicit activity. While he does not think anyone would openly accost sanctioned guests of the Bright Queen, these are strange times, and it does not hurt to be cautious.

Excuses continue to float through his mind as Essek approaches the halo of luminescent light that radiates from the guardian tree upon the house’s apex. The sound of caterwauling – in every sense of the word - meets his ears.

Home, then, Essek thinks, then corrects himself. Still here. The Mighty Nein have not yet returned to Rexxentrum, and any would-be lurkers have doubtless been chased off by the awful din emanating from the house. No reason to stay any longer.

At his own home, the work is waiting. It is always waiting: an inescapable, immovable mountain of tasks, no matter how much he chips away at the foundation. One night of neglect, and it will all come crashing down on his head – or, at least, it often feels that way.

Five minutes more. He’ll walk past the door, and then return. By this point, the path to the house is practically on the way. A justifiable excuse to continue walking.

Five minutes more.

The cobblestone reflects the faint daylight that drifts from the tree to the street below. It burns faintly against Essek’s skin – not quite strong enough to damage the tissue, but enough to be a constant aggravation. He’d thought at first the magic was a deterrent, meant to keep unwanted drow from snooping about. But now, he suspects the Mighty Nein were simply ignorant of the effect it would have on their neighbours, as they are ignorant of most everything that lives within Xhorhas.

That willful lack of prudence should be frustrating – after all, he is tasked with ensuring the group assimilates, to some degree– but their carelessness seems only to add to his hopeless endearment with each passing day.

And after all, some of the dens in the area could stand to experience a little discomfort now and then.

He’s by the door now, close enough to look through one of the windows if he so chose. Close enough to knock. Which is a foolish idea. An utterly foolish idea.

He has so much work to do.

Almost anything else would be preferable.

His hand finds the doorframe almost of its own will, and he can scarcely believe what he’s done as he draws back, the echo of his rapping knuckles against the wood fading away.

He stares at his traitorous hand. Surely, the sound was drowned out in the rest of the noise, he thinks wildly. The instruments haven’t ceased their wailing, at least. Surely, he still has time to-

Ting-a-ling-a-ling.

The door cracks open, revealing a sliver of green skin near waist level. Yellow eyes blink up at him. He blinks back.

“Guys?” Nott calls over her shoulder, never breaking eye contact. “Essek’s here!”

The music finally stops, and Essek has no rational explanation why his heart feels suddenly too weighty for his ribs to contain.

A flurry of footsteps, and then the door is swinging fully open, and there are four of the Nein staring out at him. Beau, and Fjord, and hovering in the background, Caduceus, with a flute of bone and pearl still dangling in his fingers.

“What’s wrong?” Beau asks, already pressing forward past the others. “Did something happen?”

Right, he thinks. Right, that would be the assumption, as he tries to come up with some excuse, any excuse for his presence that isn’t in the shape of ‘it seemed less agonizing than heading home’.

“My apologies,” he says, bowing his head slightly, “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I was only hoping to borrow Caleb for an hour or so?” Beau’s eyes narrow, and Essek searches for his next words, the right ones to justify himself. To de-escalate the mess he created. “Since your group might not be back in Rosohna for some time, I thought we might take the opportunity to squeeze in one more lesson. Assuming Caleb is interested, of course.”

Good. Plausible. And knowing Caleb, an undeniable lure. The correct thing to say, even if Essek’s heart clenches in his chest all the more to know he’s drawing the man away from his friends for the evening, all to bolster his own pointless deception. He’s seen the bags under Caleb’s eyes. He deserves to relax for a night, as much as any man. And still, Essek is selfish, and he cannot take back the words now he’s said them.

Beau considers for a moment, then glances down at Nott, who looks back at Essek with unveiled suspicion, and he is suddenly and violently reminded that however much he has observed this group, they have been observing him in turn.

The thought is… not pleasant.

“Nah,” says Beau. “Fuck that shit.” Then she grabs Essek by the arm and pulls him through the door. “Caleb’s spent the last two days stuck in the library with me. Your little lesson can wait until the band’s finished, at least.” Fjord jabs her in the ribs as they pass him by, and a smile materializes on Beau’s face, one that more closely resembles a pained grimace. “Oh yeah, come on in, welcome to our home, whatever.” Beau glares at Fjord. “Do I have to do this every time?”

“No formalities are necessary,” Essek assures her, and takes his arm back before she can feel the escalating rate of his pulse through his sleeve. Which is, again, a foolish reaction. He has no reason to feel anxious. The Dynasty granted the Nein this house, it’s as much his right to be there as theirs, but he still isn’t sure how he ended up in this position. How all his individual actions could have led to this moment, to him being pulled into an open space of haphazard pillows and mismatched furniture arranged in a semi-circle around a still-seated Yasha and Jester. Caduceus rejoins the pair, and Beau directs him to the spot on the floor next to where Caleb sits cross-legged with his cat in his lap. He balances a closed book on one knee, like he meant to open it and got distracted somewhere in the effort.

Caleb looks up, taking in Essek’s presence with a little surprised oh that becomes a welcoming nod, and that too is endearing, and Essek should not be here. He is meant to be at home, finishing his work, ensuring all is ready for the days to come.

“I’m sorry,” he begins to say, readying the next excuse on his lips, when Caleb’s hand finds his sleeve and pulls him down to the floor. And, light guide him, he goes.

He allows himself to be manoeuvred onto a cushion, seated with legs bowed slightly to the left as the trio resumes their playing. Nott still shoots him the occasional suspicious look from Caleb’s other side, but the rest of the Nein seem… strangely comfortable with his alien presence in their midst. He is considerably less comfortable to find himself there.

This whole circumstance is beneath him. If someone from the Bright Queen’s council were to see him here, in such an undignified position as this, he’d be laughed out of the throne room. To be taken seriously has been a decades-long endeavour, in light of his age and his as-of-yet unconsecuted status. He knows there are still those who would jump at the chance to embarrass him for less than this, if it meant elevating their own status.

And yet, he accepts a lukewarm cocktail from Beau when offered, and listens all the way to the end of the ‘song’, if it can be called that. Caleb’s presence at his side is an ever-nagging thought, prodding at him from all angles, and that too is an impropriety he should not indulge. Has not indulged. Has been very careful not to indulge, for many, many weeks.

(There are many things he knows, that would be dangerous in the wrong hands. He does not intend to make his own feelings one of them.)

The music ends, and he is immediately smothered in attention. Jester’s voice rings the loudest, pressing over the others with adulation and excitement that makes his (recently, near-constant) headache start to surge.

And it’s Caleb, of all people, who takes his sleeve again and draws him away from the clamour.

“We will be back,” he assures the rest, “but I believe you had something to show me?”

He leads Essek down the stairs, towards the basement library where they’ve spent the majority of their time together. His mouth runs drier with every step.

He made a promise of more, when he arrived, and now he must honour it, but there haven’t been the proper preparations this time. Essek is walking himself out on a narrow limb at an already precarious time, and if he teaches Caleb yet another unapproved spell tonight, he may find himself tipping the balance. The Bright Queen still doesn’t trust the Nein, after all they’ve done.

And he, so, so foolishly, does.

They stop just inside the door. Caleb closes it, and Essek swallows down the tightness in his throat. With his back ramrod straight, he has a good few inches over Caleb, and his posture is always pristine. He still looks the part of the confident tutor, and that is all that matters.

“So,” says Caleb, “what are we going to study tonight?”

The brightness is still there in his expression, the eagerness mixed with no small hint of fear, as Caleb makes himself vulnerable before Essek’s eyes. He makes himself vulnerable, as much as Essek makes himself imposing, and he wonders if Caleb has realized the same thing about him yet – whether only Essek has been watching closely for the tricks of the trade. They understand each other too well. They have known the same sort of training, have lived very different but somehow parallel lives.

They are complicit in their dishonesty, and Essek is abruptly tired of it, so very tired of everything that is involved in this dance of mutual manipulation. He is tired.

“Nothing,” says Essek. “My apologies, yet again. I should not have come.”

Caleb’s hand is on his arm once more, and the touch burns right through his cloak, through his skin, all the more painful for how much he wants to let it linger. It feels different than the tension that courses through his limbs, and he has wanted nothing else, through the last few weeks of escalating demands and endless worry and impossible tasks, to feel different. It’s comforting, and awful, and he doesn’t want to remove the hand, and hates himself for not having the same willpower he did in the forest – the last time Caleb attempted the same.

He wants to think that the touch is genuine, but wanting is not the same as believing. This – this thing between the two of them – is still work, of a sort, and pretending it is anything else would be a betrayal. It would be a betrayal of his queen, of himself, and even of Caleb, who is working as hard as him, though towards an end Essek has never been able to fully pin down.

“Should we sit?” Caleb offers, and Essek finally removes his eyes from the lingering hand, the one he has not yet managed to shrug off. They find Caleb’s, and there’s a different sort of vulnerability living behind them now – uncertainty, yes, but also understanding, and no small measure of determination. “It was too loud up there for my tastes. Thank you, for giving me an excuse to catch my breath.”

Still, Caleb looks at Essek, and squeezes his arm gently as a small, self-deprecating smile ghosts his lips. He saw my discomfort, Essek thinks. He noticed, and offered me an escape.

What does he expect in return?

Essek does his best to mirror Caleb’s expression, to keep the dance going, but can’t quite make the same light appear in his own eyes. There have been too many sleepless nights to fake another expression of certainty he doesn’t feel, and he doesn’t know what Caleb hopes to see anyway, so really, what’s the point, of any of it?

His inner voice is petulant to his own ears, and he chides himself even as he surrenders to it. One does not remain the Shadowhand by dropping their guard at a whim. It’s his duty to maintain his own composure, regardless of any feelings he might hold. It’s his responsibility. It’s-

“-alright,” Caleb is calling up the stairs. “We’ll be up soon, Nott!” He looks back at Essek. “Whenever you’re ready,” he says more quietly. When did Caleb become this confident? When did their roles reverse?

And Essek still can’t spot where the manipulation hides.

It scares him, more than the thought that he might have missed a tell, the notion that this might not be a game after all. That Caleb might be honest – at least here, at least now – in his intentions.

After all, the Mighty Nein – to a fault, admittedly – seem to land within the realm of overbearing honesty. When Jester asked about his mother’s name earlier in the evening, he forgot to be suspicious of her reason for asking. When Beau offered him a glass, he did not think to check for poison lacing the rim. If Caleb touches his arm in a comforting manner, can he believe that too?

If there is a proper manner to forming… honest relationships, he is sorely out of practice. But the alternative is to remain on guard for the rest of eternity, and more and more, he’s beginning to suspect he won’t survive to his first consecution, if he doesn’t find a way to relieve the constant pressure in his chest, the kind that reminds him that every word must be carefully considered. That anything less than perfection could mean the end of his career, his status, the very future of his soul.

(There are times, when he sits at his desk and puts his head in his hands, and tastes the sourness on his own quickening breath, that he wonders if this body is already falling apart from the inside.)

“Thank you,” he says at last, and puts his hand over Caleb’s – not to draw it away, but to press his own fingers down. To squeeze back.

He’s not wearing gloves. It has been an age since he’s felt another’s skin against his own. He’s almost not sure what to make of the sensation, at first. But Essek finds he doesn’t want to let go, and Caleb doesn’t force him to. No expectations. No exchange. Just a small moment of comfort, the first he’s allowed himself in a long while.

Essek almost lets himself believe, as he chances one more glance into Caleb’s eyes before pulling away, that it was a comfort for them both.

They return upstairs, in the end, and Essek stays for another hour of socialization more. He dances around the edge of Jester’s more personal questions, but answers a few of the less intrusive ones. He compliments the unnerving beauty of Yasha’s new harp, and receives a soft smile in return. He finds himself laughing at Fjord’s dry humour, and the sound catches him off-guard, for being the second time he’s heard it leave his mouth today.

He doesn’t remember the last time he laughed – at least, not without flattery as the main objective. Perhaps a little too much honesty has seeped into his blood now, because it feels worryingly natural to be easy in their company.

That’s another thing he’s scarcely remembered – that some things could be easy.

At last, he begs off to return home, and they all bid him farewell at the door. Even Nott gives him a little wave, and he waves back before heading off into the night.

When he opens the door to his home, his servants greet him immediately, take his coat, beckon him towards his study. The world grows narrow again as the new words filter in amidst the resumed rushing in his ears, -needs a response by the morrow- and he agrees without fully hearing the request.

If it must be done by tomorrow, he will get it done. There is no other option. And he does, along with every other task that cannot wait. Then he looks at the stack of scrolls on his desk.

It will continue to grow if he leaves it, and there are still a few hours yet till morning-

Thank you, for giving me an excuse to catch my breath.

Essek shakes his head, and looks again at the stack.

They will still be here tomorrow.

…It can wait.

Though morning still comes too soon, Essek finds it easier to drift off to sleep tonight than usual.

He may be foolish, but he’s not so naïve that he doesn’t realize the reason why.

#critical role #cr spoilers #critrole fic #essek thelyss #shadowgast #possibly unrequited #(esseks not a great judge of caleb's feelings on the matter and that's sort of the point)#my writing

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