#I think laudna would split her plate with imogen. if imogen were at that dinner with her. I think she'd share :) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

unicyclehippo · 10 months

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For the one-word prompts, glutted?

post 67

the hound lay at the entrance to their hideaway, glutted on scraps and slumbering, content, under laudna’s stroking hand.

it was, it had to be said, a wretched thing. what skin it had was mottled and torn to reveal grey flesh; what grey flesh it had was ravaged and split to reveal bone; what bone it had was brittle and cracked, missing pieces of itself to reveal the hollow hurting ooze of marrow and shadow; what shadow it had menaced in eye hollows and the depths of a growling throat, it was a flicker of dark purpose linking bones and ragged tendons. it was also just kind of gross. the shadow bled out of the hound as they rested, a creeping pool of black that was starting to be soaked up in the hem of laudna’s new skirt. she didn’t seem to notice, or maybe she didn’t mind. long pale fingers scratching behind a tattered ear.

‘does it have a name?’ imogen eases herself down at laudna’s side, a full plate for them both to share in one hand. she uses the rock wall for help instead of laudna’s shoulder; that would only end in disaster or dislocation and she figures they’ve both had enough ouches for the day.

two pairs of inky eyes blink over at her. the hound growls, low in its chest.

‘don’t be foolish,’ laudna chastises. for a moment, imogen can’t be sure who she’s talking to. ‘this is imogen. if you growl at her again i’ll unravel you.’

it ought to worry her, the way laudna’s been talking to them. pate, the hound. and it does, a little—the scolding, the rebukes, the dismissing. it doesn’t matter if pate dies, he’s already dead. let me throw him, let me use him, he’s mine i made him. that coiled tacky knot of pride and disgust. look at what i’ve made.

imogen lifts pate onto her shoulder and settles their dinner on her knee.

‘it’s alright. it’s brand new.’

‘no it’s not. it helped kill a judicator.’

imogen hums, nods. ‘and you told it all about me during the fight.’

‘well. no, but,’

‘so how could it know?’ she clicks her tongue st it and, when it lifts its head, curious, she pats it. it was cool to the touch, something imogen was quite familiar with, and slimy. if tar had a dead cousin, that was what the shadows were fashioned from; it left a grey film on her fingers that laudna groaned about but imogen only laughed, burned it away with a flicker of lightning. ‘are you going to name it?’

laudna grimaces. pats it a moment longer before her fingers curl around a black current of energy, a leash, and the hound sighs and collapses in on itself. when it’s over, there’s nothing left but a black stain on the rock.

‘we shall have a menagerie soon,’ laudna jokes. her mouth stretches in a pretty smile. her eyes stay locked on her lap, her twisting fingers. ‘pate, mister, the dog.’

‘chet.’

it startles a chortling laugh from laudna, that really wonderful one, boisterous, gleeful. ‘that’s wicked,’ she scolds, grinning.

imogen grins back. ‘i love your laugh.’

laudna’s eyes widen. she laughs again, nervous. glances over to the rest of their party clustered closer to the smokeless flame, orym with his sister. when she looks back to imogen, shadows slink through her shadow-black hair, and secrets creep behind her eyes, soft and hazy. ‘m-my laugh?’ she asks, softly. ‘truly?’

‘yeah. always. i like how you can tell how genuine it is.’

laudna ducks her head. ‘i have always enjoyed yours as well.’

‘i sound like a horse,’ imogen grumbles. laudna nods, very sweetly, which earns her a gentle slap on the shoulder. ‘you’re ‘sposed to say no, imogen, you don’t sound like a horse,’

‘darling, you do. it’s very…’ laudna tilts her head to an uncomfortable angle. ‘cute,’ she says slowly, word awkward and uncertain, like she isn’t sure of it, sure she should be using it. ‘it’s - well - it has always been such a treat. you don’t laugh nearly enough, in my opinion.’

‘i don’t remember laughing before i met you.’

laudna smiles again, eyes soft. it’s sad and a little awful, to admit it, to think it—surely there was a time, some friends when she was younger, but the memories are staticky with hurt and fear piled over them. there’s something so nice about laudna, her cheer of course, but also her teeth, her chill, the way she can reach out and menace someone to their very soul. with laudna at her side, hurt and fear can’t do very much.

‘i was considering truffle. for the dog.’

‘truffle.’

‘yes! it has such a prominent snout, perhaps it was a truffle hunter in another life.’

imogen settles their dinner plate between them, moves so she can be close to laudna. tuck herself into her side, almost as protected as she had been, wounded, shielded. ‘i like it.’

‘but you don’t love it.’

‘i just don’t know if it fits.’

‘no? hmm. i’ll give it some thought.’

#tagging my stories #prompt fill #imodna my beloveds #idk just thoughts abt the dog but I’m so tired today it’s disjointed sorryyy #cr fic

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sylvanfreckles · 2 years

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08: Scar

Part 8 of Deck the Hells

Fandom: Critical Role Rating: T Warnings: Canonical temporary character death, grief

Summary: In the aftermath of the fight with Otohan, Imogen and Orym share a moment of grief on the ride back to Jrusar (Read on AO3)

...

Imogen finally stumbled down to the galley long past midnight, eyes still swollen and red from crying. The grief that had been eating away at her had finally subsided enough for the rest of her body to let her know just how hungry and exhausted she was.

She wasn’t up for sleeping just yet, still afraid of seeing Laudna pass through that storm the way Bertrand had. And she hadn’t been up to facing the others for dinner, either. Oh, they weren’t blaming her, and they’d been so sweet and sympathetic, but to be honest if she had one more person ask if she was okay she might accidentally blow the Silver Sun out of the air.

Head down, thoughts swirling in her head, she didn’t really notice that a light was on in the galley until she was already crossing the threshold and pulled up short. “Oh. Sorry.”

Orym, standing on Denalia’s stool to reach something in an upper cupboard, gave her a look over his shoulder. “Hey.”

She couldn’t back down now…and her stomach was pretty much cramping with hunger. “Couldn’t sleep?” she asked, moving into the galley.

“Think my days and nights are all mixed up after…well, just after.” He tugged a canister free and dropped down to the floor. “Tea?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

“Denalia leaves some stuff out if anyone gets hungry in the night,” Orym added, gesturing to a covered basket at one end of the counter. “If you want something.”

He’d probably heard her stomach, but Imogen was beyond being embarrassed about that at this point. She lifted the cloth on the basket and made up a plate of what she thought she could stomach—dark bread and candied citrus fruits—and sat at the table while Orym made them some tea.

Orym finally sat across from her, steaming cups of tea in front of each of them. Imogen stared at hers and dutifully took a sip, barely tasting it, before realizing Orym hadn’t touched his.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Am I okay?” Orym looked up at her, eyes bright with worry and grief. “I should be asking you-“

“Don’t!” Imogen held a hand up. “If one more person asks if I’m okay, I’m gonna throw them off this ship. Or maybe I’ll jump myself.”

“Hey, hey,” he stood on his chair to reach across the table and take her hand. “Sorry. I know we’re bothering you.”

She let out a long breath and stared down at her half-empty plate. “It’s just a lot right now, you know?”

He did know. She tried not to pry, and Orym usually kept his mind pretty closed up, but she still got glimpses now and then. She didn’t know the whole story, but she knew there was grief there. There was an emptiness like a great, yawning pit, and she’d known he’d lost someone long before he ever mentioned Will.

“I miss her,” Imogen admitted. The tears were coming again, and she ducked her head to hide them as Orym squeezed her hand. “It’s only been a couple days and, gods, I don’t know how much longer I can do this without her.”

“Hey,” Orym squeezed again. “We’ll get her back.”

She nodded, dabbing at her eyes. She’d been crying so much they hurt to touch. “I just feel so lost,” she added, looking up at him. Their eyes met, and for a split-second she could see a flash of his memory. Sun overhead, blood on the ground, a dark-haired man shoving him aside to take the blow that would have killed him.

It was gone in an instant, Orym looking away. “It’s okay to miss her now,” he finally said. His tea was undoubtedly cold by now, but he still hadn’t touched it. “It’s okay to…to grieve for her. Even if she’s coming back.”

Imogen blinked back tears, then pulled her hand away to wipe her eyes again. “Dammit. I’m so sick of crying.”

“Yeah.” Orym finally drank his tea. “I bet.”

She sniffed, stared up at the ceiling and blinked furiously, and shook her head to try to calm her tears down. Ate another piece of candied fruit (Denalia spiced them with cinnamon and ginger, and the warmth was soothing).

“Imogen?”

She looked over at Orym again. He was always a bit soft-spoken, but his voice had been so quiet she’d barely heard it. “Something wrong?”

He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I’m really, really sorry, Imogen. If I hadn’t…if I’d been a little faster you wouldn’t have had to choose between us, and Laudna would still be here. And I’m sorry…”

A sob caught in Imogen’s throat, and she was out of her chair and around the table to wrap her arms around Orym before he could finish. She couldn’t bear to hear it, after everything. He deserved to be here just as much as the rest of them, and she hated Otohan even more for putting her friends through so much hell.

“It’s not your fault,” she gasped out. She was kneeling next to him, chin hooked over his shoulder, pressing their heads close together. “Laudna would have done the same. She would have wanted us to pick you.”

He was clutching the back of her blouse. “Hey, I’m supposed to be comforting you,” he said, voice shaky.

She laughed, though it caught in her throat like a sob. “I miss her so much, Orym.”

“I know.” He sighed, and when he spoke again, she could hear the grief in his voice. “Love like…it leaves a mark. When it’s torn away, it feels like it’ll never heal.”

“But it’s worth it,” she whispered, resting her forehead on his shoulder as her eyes filled with tears again. “Even if it leaves a scar.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “It’s worth it.”

#whumpcember2022 #whumpcember2022 day7 #scar #grief #canonical character death #critical role #campaign 3 #bells hells #imogen temult #orym of the air ashari

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