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intergalacticwanderer · 3 years

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(I hadn’t planned on writing a follow up to this fic, but I kept thinking about what would happen next and therefore this happened.)

It was later in the day when Beau finally caught up with Kingsley again, hangover mostly gone and jobs winding down on the ship. Things had proceeded as normal that morning outside of the initial outburst, but as the day went on Beau had noticed Kingsley getting quieter and quieter, already unusual on its own but downright concerning after what had happened last night and this morning. She had no idea what was even running through the tiefling’s head right now, but based on what he’d yelled right after waking up? It was probably an unholy mess. Just trying to sort it out made her head hurt, and it wasn’t even her head.

She really hoped he could be okay, at least.

“Hey,” Beau said as she came up next to Kingsley at the edge of the ship, resting her forearms on the rail and looking over at him. He didn’t acknowledge her at first, continuing to stare out at the ocean and arms crossed as he leaned on the rail. She waited. If he wanted to talk, he would, and if not, she could at least give him some company.

It was around six minutes before Kingsley finally spoke up.

“You know,” Kingsley said, voice soft and a little rough from disuse, “for as much shit as I give you, we make a pretty good fighting team. It went better than the last time like that at least.” He reached up and rubbed at the scar on his chest and Beau’s heart clenched.

Jumping right into it it seemed. Shit.

“You remember that?” If he was going to jump in she might as well too, but her stomach still lurched at that particular memory. Memories which he apparently had now too, with no warning what so ever. No wonder he’d been so quiet today.

“Yeah. I-I think so.” His hands were shaking slightly. “Remembering’s pretty different than reading your book.”

He threw his hands up in the air. “And I know we've had plenty of times fighting bad guys together. That was just the first time I've been...” He trailed off, seemingly unable to finish the thought out loud. Instead he just huffed, going back to the rail.

“How you holding up? That’s... a lot, man.” Understatement of the year, but how do you even start to address something like that? (Something niggled at her, that there was more to it than remembering dying, but she couldn’t quite place it. She put a pin in the thought for later.)

“Honestly?” He scrubbed at his eyes for a few moments before dragging his hand down his face. “No fucking clue. And... yeah. It’s a lot.” Kingsley blew out a long breath and then groaned, planting his elbows on the rail and burying his face in hands. “This sucks.”

“You got that right.”

Beau let him have another few minutes, watching as some seabirds wheeled overhead in the afternoon sky and a few wispy clouds drifted on the horizon. At one point Fjord caught her eye from another part of the deck and he almost came over but she waved him off, not wanting Kingsley to have to deal with too many people at once. Eventually Kingsley shifted to prop his chin on his hand and Beau decided she'd be the one to break the silence this time.

“Do you remember anything else? Besides-” she gestured to the scar on his chest- “that?” His reactions this morning implied that he did, but it'd be better to hear it from Kingsley himself. He glanced over, straightening up and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Some? A lot? It’s hard to tell when I don't know how much there is to begin with. It... matches what Yasha's told me at least.”

Beau’s heart rate sped up a little. Those comments he’d made this morning about suddenly having two names, about possibly making Molly his middle name now, she forced herself to actually look at that. That niggling thought she’d had earlier got stronger.

“Anything in particular you’re wondering about?” Maybe a bit on the leading side, but probably harmless (and she really wanted to figure this out). She leaned forward a little.

Unfortunately for her, Kingsley picked up on her weird vibe and gave her a confused squint, leaning back the same distance. Fuck. So much for harmless.

“Nnnooo? What the hell are you on about?”

“Nothing! Just curious.” That just made him squint at her even harder. Ugh, Dairon would have given her so much shit for this, she wasn’t used to trying to interrogate a friend. A second later Beau realized the ‘interrogate’ part was the problem and she forced herself to relax. She was here to try and help her friend out. And fuck, why did he have to look so much like a kicked puppy when he was upset? That should have been illegal. She let out an exasperated noise.

“Okay, fine, seeing you so quiet and moody is fucking weird. And I wanted to find out what was up.” There. She’d said it.

“Nice to know I usually have the emotional depth of a teacup,” he deadpanned.

“Oh fuck off. You know what I meant.”

Kingsley cocked his head, just staring back as she glowered and eventually he shrugged. “Alright. What is it?”

“Something’s obviously eating at you.”

“And?”

“Captive audience if you want to rant a bit.” Kingsley raised an eyebrow at the captive part and Beau rolled her eyes. “Not literally. I'll still listen.”

“You? Willingly listening to me?” Back to being an asshole. And an obvious attempt to deflect if she’d ever seen it.

“Yeah. Shocking.” She didn't move, the wind blowing a few stray hairs around her face and Kingsley’s hair tossed about as well while he thought.

“How about this.” He crossed his arms. “You guys going to treat me differently now that I remember stuff from Molly?”

Beau froze.

She wanted to say ‘of course not.’ She should say of course not. But she still remembered that morning, when confronted with yelling purple teifling and memories of the death match fresh in her head, she’d called him Molly.

“Not unless you want us to.” The wind picked up a little and she rubbed at her arms, trying to chase away the gooseflesh. Beau wasn’t sure if it was just the wind.

Kingsley gave her a flat look, red eyes unblinking. “Really.”

“Yes, really. You’re our friend. You.” She hoped that was the right thing to say at least.

“So you guys weren’t disappointed at all when you got me?” He looked at her while leaning his back against the rail, arms still crossed and tail lashing back and forth. Beau suddenly remembered that even if he'd never reached the uncanny level that Caduceus was at, Molly had still been surprisingly good at reading people. And, apparently, Kingsley was too. Fuck.

She sighed and looked down. It felt crappy to admit, but she had to be honest. “Yeah, that'd be a bit of a lie. Still wouldn't justify taking it out on you though.” Her fingers dug into her upper arm. “What matters is who you are now. Trying to force you to be someone you don't want to be is just shitty.” She looked back up at him.

A few more connections came together in her head. She had to know.

“Do... you still consider yourself and Molly to be two separate people, now that you have the memories?” Beau knew as soon she said the words out loud that she’d finally hit on the crux of the issue and Kingsley outright flinched. She mentally scrambled backwards. Shit fuck shit- “You don't have to answer,” she added on quickly, “it's not my business.”

Kingsley hugged himself tightly, looking down and tail coiled around his leg. She felt like her heart was about to beat out of her chest.

"I don't know," he said, so quietly that Beau almost missed it. He didn’t look up.

“You don’t have to,” she said. “It’s okay to not know. And like I said it’s none of my business.” (And yet she’d still asked the question. Great job, Beau.)

“It’s just-” He let out a frustrated noise. “This morning, right after I woke up, with all the yelling?” His heel tapped on the deck, jittery. “I was him, mentally. Probably why it didn’t bother me then. But then of course I had to have a bunch of time to fucking think.” Kingsley hunched over a little, looking smaller. “Now it just scares the shit out of me.”

There it was. The answer to why Kingsley had been so out of it all day, and all it did was make her feel like a nosy asshole.

Beau let out a shaky breath, taking another moment to look at the ship around them. For better or worse they were completely alone right then, save for a couple of the seabirds still flying over head. Think. What could she say right now that might be able to help? She’d just exposed some terrifying personal bullshit on accident, so... maybe she could let him see some of her own personal bullshit? Even the scales a little.

“I know it’s not really the same situation, but...” Inhale, exhale. It was okay to talk to him about this. “I’ve talked to you about my shitty dad before, right?”

Kingsley nodded. “Yeah, I know about the shitbag. Still think he could use some extra stabbing.”

Beau couldn’t help but smile a little at that. They really were all ride or die for each other.

“Not gonna disagree with you. The reason I bring him up is-” She sighed. “Main problem he had is he wanted me to be someone I’m not. So focused on the ‘should have been’ and the idea in his head that he ignored the person right in front of him. Well. Still payed enough attention to be awful.” Kingsley was quiet, listening, and Beau gathered the rest of her thoughts.

“Guess what I’m trying to say is I know how awful expectations like that can be. And that’s the last thing I’d want to do to you, okay? And I’ll fucking deck anyone who does that.”

“Even if that person is me?”

What.

Beau was left speechless for a moment, completely unprepared for that response. That was. What??? “Okay, you’re gonna have to explain that one to me. The fuck?”

He shrugged. “Are you gonna deck me? For having unreasonable expectations about myself?” The end of his tail tapped against his boot and Beau just stared at him. “That sounds like what you’re saying.”

“That’s not what I fucking- ugh!” She gave a frustrated tug at the hair on the top of her head, some of it coming out of her hairstyle. “What I’m trying to say you asshole is that the only thing that matters is who YOU want to be and that’s the end of it! Fucking hell!” Her words caught up with her and Beau deflated a bit. “Ahhh shi- fuck-” her face screwed up. “I’m sorry. That came out completely wrong. Sorry. Shit!” Why did she have to be so bad at this?

“N-nah, I get it,” Kingsley said, looking away and cheeks flushing. “And I was pretty shit with what I was trying to say too.” He scratched the back of his head. “And, uh, thanks. For saying that. Really.”

He leaned back, propping his elbows on the rail behind him and hair partially falling in his face. “I guess what I was trying? To say? Is that other people aren’t the issue for me. It’s my own head that’s the mess.” He sighed.

“I like being me, you know? I’m happy. But...” He went quiet again, chewing on his lip.

“But?”

He looked directly at her.

“What the hell am I supposed to do when I can’t even tell what ‘me’ is?”

Just hearing that made her go cold.

“That’s... fuck, dude.”

“You think?” He lurched up and started pacing next to the rail, Beau watching as he went back and forth, tail swishing side to side and one hand gesturing, the other tangled in his hair. “I went to bed as Kingsley Tealeaf, that’s me. Fine, dandy! Then last night we fight in a death match, and there? Mollymauk Tealeaf! Also great! But now?”

He stopped pacing, hands falling to his side. Slumped against the rail. “I don’t know. If I think about picking, ditching one of them, I’m terrified. Not a conscious thing, just thinking about it, makes me scared.” Hugged himself. “But I’m also scared that trying to hold onto both might make me lose ‘me’ anyway. I just. I don’t know.”

He was quiet for several more seconds, eventually raking both his hands through his hair at once and staring up at the sky. “What the fuck am I going to do now?” he breathed out.

“You want an actual answer to that, or you just thinking out loud?”

It slipped out before Beau could stop herself and she had a small moment of panic. This was the kind of stuff Caduceus was good at, not her, but at the same time? She was the person who was actually here right now. And she still wanted to do right by her friend. Somehow.

Kingsley blinked and then barked out a laugh, one hand staying tangled in his hair and the other going back to the rail as the looked over to Beau. “Do you have an answer Scribbles? Or are you just bullshitting?”

“Psht, that’s your job,” Beau said, rolling her eyes, and she noticed him relax a little at the jab. Good. “But, honestly?” She thought it over for a moment. “You do what you want to. And I’m not bullshitting you,” she said, raising her hands in front of her at the look he gave her. “You do what you want. It doesn’t have to be complicated.”

He blinked at her a couple more times. Dread squirmed in her stomach, wondering if she’d fucked up her advice giving again, but she forced herself to calm down. “Just think about it. What you might want to do next.”

She could practically see the process of him thinking for the next few minutes, holding still and his eyes distant. Eventually he made a thoughtful noise, hands coming up to steeple in front of his chin and a glint coming into his eyes.

“Does that mean whatever I want?”

“Okay, now you’re just being an ass,” Beau said and Kingsley broke out into a grin. Maybe she hadn’t completely fucked this up.

“Takes one to know one Scribbles.”

“You know what, I might just deck you anyway-”

“I’d like to see you tr- actually, no, you definitely could,” Kingsley said, backpedaling and raising his hands in front of him as his brain caught up with his mouth and seeing Beau raising a fist. She couldn’t keep it up however and soon enough she was grinning too, Kingsley breathing a sigh of relief. At which point she socked him in the shoulder.

“OW!” He hissed out between his teeth, rubbing his shoulder. “Did you have to do it that hard?”

“If I meant to hit you hard, you’d know.” Beau held her fist in the air. “Trust me.“

He eyed the raised fist. “You guys are still terrifying.”

“Hey, that includes you, don’t sell yourself short.” She paused, mulling over her next question. It’d be better for her to know, she decided. “The memories you have from the death match, of... earlier Molly stuff. Do you want me to refer to that as happening to you? Or someone else?”

Kingsley’s face screwed up like he’d bitten into something sour. “Case by case I guess? Death match is okay since it just happened, not sure on the rest yet.” He gave helpless shrug. “I’ll let you know later.”

“Good enough for me. Cause you in the death match? Definitely in the terrifying camp. Like I said, don’t sell yourself short.”

The glint returned to his eyes, along with a toothy grin. “I admit, it was pretty satisfying.”

“Aaand case in point right there, just that expression is terrifying. Fucking hell, dude.”

“I do have a future reputation to build,” he said airily, which somewhat ruined the expression. It also made Beau have to muffle a laugh, and she had to work even harder to muffle it when she saw Kingsley pouting.

“Now that’s just rude.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Beau said, waving a hand in the air and breathing deep to calm the laughter. “This about the pirate idea?”

He nodded. “It is indeed! You should know that I have plans.”

That glint was back in his eyes again, even more worrying than before. Maybe she should warn Fjord about it.

...

Nah, he could find out on his own.

Beau stretched, rolling her head and resting her palm on the back of her neck before looking at Kingsley again. One more question she needed to ask.

“Any updates on the name?”

There was a pause, a long pause, and then he shook his head. “I’ll stick with Kingsley for now. And what I said with the middle name this morning... I’ll keep thinking on it.” There was still some hesitancy, but overall? He actually looked okay.

“Fine by me. And hey, you wouldn’t be the first of the Nein to end up with a different name.” She shrugged. “Caleb and Veth did. Hell, even Jester picked her own name.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! You should ask her about it sometime.” Beau looked back out over the ocean, sun getting lower and the last of the sea birds flying off. “And I think it'd be good to talk Jester and Fjord about stuff in general. I’m not the best at this life advice thing.”

“Noooooo, really?”

“Oh eat a dick.”

“Sorry, can't, you don't have one.”

Beau paused.

“You know, ask Jester about some early Xhorhas disguises we had. I think you’d get a kick out of it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Color me intrigued. Any reason you can’t tell it?”

“Don’t want to rob Jester of the experience.”

“Now I’m really intrigued.”

“Beauuuu! Kingsleeeey!”

The two of them turned and looked up, following the voice to find Jester in the crow’s nest and waving down at them before cupping her hands around her mouth for the next shout. “We’re having dinner in 10 minutes! Be there!”

“Sure thing, Jes!” Beau hollered, waving back.

“Don't eat all the pastries before I get there!” Kingsley shouted.

“No promises!” Jester shouted back, before she gave one more very enthusiastic wave and started climbing down from the crow's nest.

Beau looked back to Kingsley, stretching then placing her hands on her hips. “Well, I think that’s our cue to get back to civilization.”

“You call this crew civilized?”

“Point. You know that includes you, right?” she said as the two of them started to walk.

“I know what I’m about,” Kingsley said, grinning.

“Suuure you do.”

“Yep!” he said cheerfully. He bounded ahead, tail swishing animatedly before spinning on one foot and throwing his arms out wide. “One uncivilized teifling, right here! And sorry, you’re stuck with me.”

“No refunds?”

“Nope!”

“Well damn. Sucks to be me I guess,” Beau deadpanned, but as she did she came up next to Kingsley and threw an arm around his shoulder, and her friend continued to grin.

“Come on. Let’s go show the rest of this uncivilized bunch what they’re missing.”

(Part Three)

#Critical Role #cr spoilers #Beauregard Lionett #Mollymauk Tealeaf #Kingsley Tealeaf #Mollymauk #Vox Machina vs Mighty Nein oneshot #Kingsley got a Molly memory dump after the deathmatch and is having a bad time #Critical Role fanfiction #my writing

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cadykeus-clay · 4 years

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i would low key love to hear your tangent about the differences there are between how VM and TM9 react with the world

ah, the perfect excuse for me to put off my 30 page reading, thank you :3

(i’m also going to preface this by saying most of this is stuff i’ve picked from other people’s various metas and i absolutely do not remember who those authors might be so i apologize jsdlkfsd)

....

but uh ... basically i feel like vox machina and the nein have a completely opposite standard for how they interact with the people the consider to be their “inner circle” vs. everyone who doesn’t qualify as that.

vm is a group of individuals who, overall, had one cruel person that slighted them but didn’t really destroy their faith in humanity. (their faith in themselves is a whole different horse. that ones .... woof. looking at you percy scanlan tary keyleth.) Percy had the briarwoods, Grog had Kevdak, the twins and tary had their father. so, the way that they interact with just random people that they meet is - with exceptions of course - amicable, or at the very least, respectably polite.

they’re the saviours of emon, the freers of whitestone. they have festivals held in their honor. they have kid fans and random farmers knocking on their doorstep for aid because they’ve heard tales of the kindness. sure, vex can be a hassle when she’s haggling down a price, and keyleth tends to poke buttons in way that gets her arrested a fair amount of the time, but at the end of the day they’re the people’s heroes, and they’re happy to be that!

their inner circle, however, is much more closely guarded. they have a few chosen allies (gilmore, allura, kima, kash and zahra, cassandra) and that’s it. They’re hesitant with anyone else trying to creep into their personal fold. Hell, it took beating up tary and him breaking down sobbing for them to even consider liking him. they’ve been burned by raishan and clarota and hotis, by individuals they let in and who then stabbed them in the back. they’ll do almost any favor for a stranger who asks, but they’ll be damned if they trust anyone to actually join their midst. vox machina is vox machina is vox machina and that’s incredibly hard to change.

the nein, on the other hand, are fundamentally a group of rejects. some of them have specific people they can point a finger at and say “i hate you”, but those problems stem from a greater societal rejection. beau has daddy issues, but she also felt rejected by the entire cobalt soul until dairon found her. caleb has trent’s fucked up shit, but he also has this constant pressure of having failed his entire country, not to mention the faceless hate piled up on him from living homeless for a year. jester’s whole deal is that she had to hide from LITERALLY ALL OF SOCIETY for her entire childhood because she wasn’t supposed to exist.

and so, the nein are shitheads to society right back. they’re mean to random barkeeps, they trash their inns and don’t say sorry, they mock most NPCs behind their back (or sometimes right to their face. @ marius). Every favor asked of them comes with a ton of deliberation and arguing about whether its bait or not (ie bowlgate, the giants in the mine outside rosohna, essiks “favors”).

but, on the flip side, they’re willing to tug just about anyone into their ranks. if society already hates them by default, what’s there to lose if they get close to someone? nothing, there’s only more love to be found! so it’s adopting random bird girls on the road, its sending cupcakes to a hag that cursed your friend, its sending messages to everyone you’ve ever met just to check in, it’s making someone sit in the hot tub with you and share trauma and then when you find out he started a war you say “we get it bro” and kiss him on the forehead. it’s “welcome to the mighty nein”.

and it’s also very interesting, i think, to talk about the ways in which the party interacts with themselves. vox machina was a family, undoubtedly, as is the nein now. but vox machina ... had a lack of desperation to their attachment. i mean for one, they took a full year off from adventuring together and scattered cross continent. even if the nein gets down time like they did, i expect they’ll just trail each other around like lemmings. (its kind of what they’ve been doing from hiatus until now with the eiselcross arc starting).

but vox machina just ... went. and scanlan walked away from the party and (after the heat of the moment), they agreed to just let him be. and pike would spend weeks on quests for sarenrae without much of a complaint. even at the end - and this will be a controversial take, i know - but they let vax go pretty easily. (sure, mechanically they were wiped from fighting, but besides tears the only attempt to defy trq was from percy, which even he gave up on with minimal struggle because vax said to stop it). that’s not to say they don’t miss each other when they’re gone! of course they do!!! but they trust each other to go off into the world, because the world as whole is a place they trust.

(the one exception to this might be vex, who fought every one of these situations adamantly, but that’s a whole separate essay about her issues stemming from an innate sense of ‘failed family’ that she’s desperate to not repeat, and less about a mistrust of everyone until proven otherwise)

the nein on the other hand. hoo boy. they’ve been hot glued to each other’s hips since day one. So many quotes (many from beau, which could be worked into my previous vex essay, as they’re very much cross-campaign foils. getting sidetracked again) are about their inability to separate. “You don’t get to choose who cares about you”; “No one goes”; “If one of us is gone for more than 7 days assume we’re dead and have a funeral”; “Do we have co-dependecy issues?” Jester’s cool personal vacation to her god’s get together turned into a party with everyone because why would she go anywhere without the nein? Veth’s time with Luc and/or Yeza is constantly overrun with the rest of the nein dropping in for fun. Even small things like shopping trips are so much more “oh well if you’re going then i’ll go” snowballs than they ever were with vm.

Also, ashley’s absences had to be much more forceful than in c1. Post episode 11, the only time yasha left the group (rather than someone else piloting her) of her own free will was when she ran in grief from molly’s grave. And yes, there’s something to be said about “oh they were on a boat for a long time she had nowhere to go” but if Matt can justify astral projection pike, i feel like he could justify ‘the stormlord teleports yasha away for a bit’ and he chose not to.

Because!!!!!!!!! of the dynamic that the nein has!!!!!!!! Because of this idea that the world is bad and cold and full of hate and in here in our little hut (soon to be mansion??????) it’s safe and good and full of love and no one can leave because then you’d be going somewhere much more dangerous and we can’t have that, now can we?

.....

well uh. that’s a lot of words. i hope they made some sense??? and were at all what you were expecting???? thank u for sending the ask tho this was very fun to write!!

tldr: vox machina is a group of people who were betrayed by one bad figure, so they trust the world and are wary of the individual; whereas the nein is a group of people who were failed by the world at large so they welcome the loner and fear the pack.

#critical role #vox machina #the mighty nein #critical role meta #hey the actual essay bit turned out be 1200 words On The Nose

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minister-for-femslash · 3 years

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Toxin

Summary; Set after the cathedral but before Rumblecusp... After being attacked by a rat-like creature in the tunnels under Pride's Call, Yasha finds herself growing sicker and sicker because of just a couple of scratches.

Pairing; Beau/Yasha

Word Count; 4,530

Warnings; Vomiting and blood.

Author's Note; For Beauyashaweek2021 Day 7 - Free Choice, because it started as touch, became hurt and comfort and eventually morphed into whatever this is.

The wounds on her back and chest hurt. With every step the fabric of her clothes brushes against them and Yasha has to resist the urge to wince. It's strange, she's grown so use to pain over the years: she's been beaten, stabbed, set on fire and she's been able to handle all of it, to carry it, but this, just a couple of scratches from some oversized rat has her gritting her teeth and wanting to sit down.

“Are you alright, Yasha?” Jester asks, looking back over her shoulder.

They've been walking down this tunnel for over two hours, and while Yasha started at the front of the group, leading the way and helping Veth search for traps, her pace has become slower and slower, and she now finds herself at the back, only just managing to keep up with Beau, who she's almost certain is deliberately keeping step with her, so she doesn't fall too far behind.

“I'm fine.”

Jester doesn't look convinced and neither does Beau, who glances at her for just a moment. The concern is written all over their faces.

“Maybe we should stop,” Jester says.

And now the others are looking at her as well.

“Really, I'm fine.”

“I will admit, I could do with a rest myself,” Caleb says. There's still a hint of blood on his face, as well as mud and dirt, and Yasha can see now that he's favouring his right leg just slightly. “There's a spot just up ahead, we could stop there.”

The others agree and so they stop.

Yasha is more than a little grateful. She takes a seat on a nearby rock and watches as Beau and Veth try to start a fire before Caleb's amusement at the situation fades and he lights the few pieces of wood they've managed to gather in the tunnel with a quick flick of his wrist. Yasha thrusts Magician's Judge down into the dirt in front of her and rests her head against the hilt. Her eyes feel heavy and there's a dull ache in her neck.

“I'm sorry, Yasha, I'd totally heal you,” Jester says.

Veth laughs and Jester gives her a quick look. Normally Yasha would find the interaction funny, but right now all she can muster is a small smile, one she doesn't even lift her head up for.

“But I need to save my spells in case we encounter one of the Cerberus Assembly down here. I'm sorry.”

“It's fine. I'm okay.”

“Jester, do you still have that medical kit I gave you?” Beau asks. Her voice sounds much louder than the others, it almost seems to boom around her.

“Sure.”

“Can I have it?”

“Of course, Beau.”

Yasha feels Jester move away from her and if she's honest, she feels a little relieved, Yasha isn't sure she has the strength to carry on any type of conversation right now. Her mouth feels dry, her throat sore. A bead of sweat makes it's way down the back of her neck as she allows her eyes to close. The others continue to talk and Yasha tries to listen, at least at first, but slowly their voices become little more than a vague buzzing in the background.

And then Beau is in front of her. “Here -” she takes Yasha's hand and places the water skin against her palm “- drink this.”

Yasha goes to grip it, but her hands feel weak and it almost slips from her fingers. Beau is there to steady her. She helps Yasha bring it to her lips and take a small sip, then another and another. It doesn't help with the soreness in her throat, but her mouth is no longer dry, which is something.

“Thank you,” Yasha says.

Beau takes Magician's Judge out of her hand and gently places it on the ground next to them. She shifts forward slightly and reaches for the hem of Yasha's shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“I need to clean your wounds.” Beau slowly pulls the shirt over Yasha's head, her fingers accidentally skimming across the side of her stomach, at least Yasha thinks it was accidental. Either way, she shivers in response. “I'll start with the ones on your back, okay?”

Beau gives her knee a little squeeze and all Yasha can do is nod her head in response. Her mouth is suddenly dry again and she takes another sip from the water skin as Beau slides around her.

Yasha brings her hands up and covers her chest. They've all been naked in front of each other before, but this isn't a bathhouse and she's the only one, and with Beau so close, it feels awkward and intimate at the same time. Fjord and Caleb are doing their best not to look, Caduceus doesn't seem to notice – he's too busy making everybody tea – but Jester and Veth are definitely paying attention. In fact, Jester gives her a smile and a quick thumbs up as Beau settles in behind her, her knees pressing lightly against Yasha's lower back.

Beau gently brushes her hair to the side, placing it across Yasha's shoulder, her hand brushing against the back of Yasha's neck. The warmth of Beau's breath in on her skin, her hand gripping onto Yasha's left hip. Yasha's cheeks grown warm. Some sort of fabric wipes along one of the scratches and as she flinches, Beau's grip on her hip tightens, her fingers digging in a little to keep her steady.

“Sorry.” Beau leans in close.

Yasha holds her breath as Beau's lips brush against her ear.

“But I need you to hold still, okay?”

Yasha nods her head. Her hands grasp at the rock she's sitting on as the piece of fabric brushes against the scratch again, a little softer this time.

Beau takes her time, making sure to drag the piece of fabric across every inch of Yasha's back, and then going back over it a second time. Yasha has to close her eyes and press her lips together just to try and ignore the tingles that are currently making their way up and down her spine.

“Beau,” Yasha whispers.

And just like that, Beau's lips are back against her ear.

“Am I hurting you?”

Yasha lets out a shaky breath. “No, no. It's fine.”

“I'm going to do your front now, okay?”

“Okay.” She can't keep her voice steady, there's an audible shudder to it.

Beau slips around until she's on her knees in front of her. Yasha watches as she takes a bottle of ointment from the medical kit and pours some of it onto a new piece of fabric. She places her hands on Yasha's thighs and pushes her legs open.

It's too much. Yasha has to look away.

Her eyes end up settling on Jester and Veth, who are huddled nearby, whispering to each other and her cheeks grow even warmer. She can feel Beau shift forward, hips pressing against the inside of her own thighs. She bits her bottom lip as Beau brushes the piece of fabric against the wounds, paying the same sort of care and attention to Yasha's chest as she did to her back. Her other hand starts once again on Yasha's hip, but when it's clear that Yasha is going to stay still this time, it moves. Slowly at first, her fingers stroking back and forth, and Yasha's breath hitches in her throat. She knows that she shouldn't, but she just can't help herself, she looks down at Beau and she isn't surprised to see Beau staring back up at her, a very obvious twinkle in her eye.

Beau's hand moves up, dragging slowly along the side of her stomach and any words Yasha may have immediately die on her tongue as every inch of her skin feels warm and tingly at the same time.

“These cuts are bad,” Beau says, holding Yasha's gaze. “I don't think the ointment is going to work.”

“No?”

“No. Lucky for you, I have my own type of magic.” Beau taps her lips and smiles.

Yasha watches, with some amount of disbelief as Beau leans down and presses a kiss against her stomach, at the top of one of the wounds. Beau's arms wrap around her waist, as she kisses Yasha again and again, one kiss for every scratch.

Yasha's vision darkens, the rest of the world falling away, until it's just the two of them. Her hands continue to grasp at the rock underneath her and when that isn't enough, she reaches for Beau's shoulders, squeezing them tight just to anchor herself. It's been a long time since anybody touched her this way, a long time since anybody kissed her this way.

Beau continues to stare up at her as she places kiss after kiss against her skin, slowly edging upwards.

“Beau,” Yasha whispers, her blunt fingernails digging into the fabric of Beau's sleeveless coat.

Beau moves up until the two of them are face to face, their noses almost touching.

“My kisses can heal you,” Beau says, as she leans in close.

Yasha closes her eyes and waits, her body tense with anticipation of a kiss. A kiss that doesn't come.

Yasha's head lolls. She can feel the hilt of her sword in her hand, the edge pressing into her forehead as she leans against it. Her breath is still shallow and there's still a sharp pain in her chest. Her head feels heavy and she tilts forward. Magician's Judge falls from her hands, hitting the floor with a jarring clatter.

Her eyes fly open.

The rest of the Mighty Nein are staring at her. Beau isn't kneeling between her legs, she's on the other side of the camp with Fjord and Caleb, an obvious look of concern on her face. Yasha looks down and sees that her shirt is still on, the medical kit nowhere to be seen.

There's sweat on her forehead, and she quickly wipes it away before reaching for her sword. “Sorry, sorry.”

“Yasha, you really don't look so good,” Jester says.

“I'm just a little tired, and a little sore. I'll be fine.”

They stay in the tunnel for just over an hour, and Yasha spends most of the time resting her head against her sword, determined not to drop it this time despite her shaking hands, waiting her the moment that the pain in her back and chest finally subsides, just like it always does. But the hour goes by so fast, or at least it seems to, and well before Yasha is ready the others are gathering up their things.

Yasha goes to stand. Her head feels heavy and her legs shaky. Her vision blurs, the tunnel spins and she topples forward. She slams into the ground face first, and if her body could be racked with any more pain it would be, and then the world goes black.

She wakes some time later – it's dark in the tunnel, so even if her head wasn't throbbing, she wouldn't be able to tell how much time has passed anyway. She's on her back, something soft, a bag or coat is tucked under her head. There's a damp cloth resting on her forehead. Yasha tries to sit up, but her, well her everything feels heavy and sore. She lets out a grunt and her fingers twitch.

She's alone, or at least she thinks she is.

“You're awake.” Beau's voice echoes through the tunnel.

Yasha feels a hand on her shoulder.

“How do you feel?” Beau asks.

“I'm fin...” She can't even finish the word, because she's about as far away from fine as she can be right now. “Bad.” It's the best she can muster.”

“Caleb thinks you might have been infected with some sort of poison or toxin when that thing scratched you. Fjord tried lay on hands, but I'm pretty sure it's didn't work.”

“Okay.”

“Here, Caduceus made you some tea before he left.”

Beau suddenly comes into view. She's untied her hair and it tumbles down around her face. Her hand moves from Yasha's shoulder to the back of her head and gently lifts her up just slightly. The slight movement makes Yasha feel dizzy again. She blinks once and then twice, and after a moment the world stops spinning.

Beau presses the small tea cup against her lips and she takes a sip. “Jester wanted Caleb to set up the dome, but we don't have much time to scout this place out before the peace talks.”

“I know, it's okay.”

“They didn't want to leave you, but they'll be back soon and after a rest, Caduceus says he can give greater restoration a try. He thinks that might work.” She places the cup back against her mouth and Yasha takes another drink, longer this time.

It's not hot, but more pleasantly warm with a slight hint of lemon and mint. It helps soothe some of the soreness in her throat and she drinks all of it this time. A small drop escapes from her lips and Beau wipes it away with the edge of her thumb.

“You didn't go with them.”

“Couldn't leave you here alone. This place is crawling with all sorts of nasties, you need the big guns to protect you.” Beau lifts up her left arm and taps her bicep.

It brings a smile to Yasha's lip. “Thank you. For staying.”

Beau's gaze quickly breaks with hers. She leans forward and takes the damp cloth from Yasha's forehead and Yasha watches as she quickly pours water from her water skin onto it, before placing it back. A drop of water lands on Yasha's cheek. The coolness hits her skin and the heat she feels fades for just a moment.

Another drop lands on her cheek and then another on her chin. But it's not water, and it's not from the cloth. Yasha looks up and sees a splodge of red on Beau's shirt. Blood. It spreads across Beau's chest, her clothes becoming soaked in a matter of seconds. It drops down onto Yasha, showering her face and neck.

“Beau. You're bleeding,” Yasha whispers. She quickly reaches up and presses her hand against Beau's chest. The blood seeps through her fingers, dripping down her wrist. She casts healing hands, her skin growing warm as a white light extends from her palm.

The wound doesn't heal. The blood just keeps pouring down her arms, onto her stomach and chest.

Beau stares down at her, her eyes blank.

Yasha pressed her hand against the wound again, desperately trying to stem the blood. But it showers down over her. She coughs and splutters as it washes across her face, getting in her nose and mouth.

Her eyes slam shut.

“Yasha! Yasha!”

Yasha can feel hands on her cheeks.

“Yasha!”

She opens her eyes and sees Beau staring down at her, her eyes wide with concern. Yasha's hand is still on Beau's chest, but there's no blood. It's just her, pressing her hand against a wound that's long since healed.

“I'm sorry. I... I'm sorry.” Her hand falls away.

“It's okay. But you said I was bleeding. Did you see something?”

“Yeah, I saw something.”

“Shit!” Beau turns away. She stares down the tunnel in the direction that Yasha thinks the others have headed. “I should've let Jester stay with you, she could've sent a message to Caleb, tell him you're seeing things. It might help him narrow down what's happening.”

Yasha can see Beau's shoulders slump as she sighs loudly. She reaches out and place her hand next to Beau's, the edge of their little fingers barely touching.

“I'm glad that you're here.”

They stay like that, with Beau's gaze moving between the tunnel and Yasha every few moments, their hands together until the cloth on Yasha's head becomes hot again and Beau has to move in order to freshen it with more water.

Yasha's eyes feel heavy and she slowly drifts off to sleep with Beau watching over her.

Her dreams are wrought with horrifying images; herself in the Cobalt Soul cutting through archivists with Skin Gorger, each one of them morphing into Beau the moment her blade slices through them.

The others still haven't returned by the time she wakes, some time later. Beau offers her another cup of tea, and with her throat once again sore, Yasha nods her head in agreement. She watches as Beau pours some from a pot and despite the tightness in her chest and the slow churning in her stomach, she feels herself smile.

Beau brings the cup to her lips and she takes a sip. The tea has remained warm, probably through magical means and this one has a hint of something sweet and fruity that she can't quite identify. It's nice.

A shadow falls across Beau's face. It's subtle and at first Yasha doesn't notice, but as Beau turns to place the now empty cup back next to the pot it becomes more prominent. A silhouette of a woman.

Yasha turns and her breath escapes her.

Zuala.

Her skin is pale, unnaturally so. Her hair wild and knotted, with twigs caught in it and mud scraped all up the side of her face. All of the colour has been drained from her eyes, leaving them nothing more than milky white. There are cuts and scratches up her arms, and a line that runs across her neck, thin and red. She smiles and there are teeth missing, rotted away. A maggot crawls out of her mouth and wiggles it's way across her cheek.

“Hello, Yasha.”

Yasha glances at Beau, who doesn't seem to notice Zuala. She closes her eyes and shaker her head, ignoring the dull ache that runs through her. 'It's not real, it's not real,' she thinks to herself. 'She's not here.'

“But I am here.”

Beau takes the cloth off her forehead again and begins pouring more water on it.

“She's going to die, you know,” Zuala says.

“What?”

Beau glances over at her, her eyebrows furrowed.

Yasha's stomach tightens.

“You care for her, and you know what happens to people you care about,” Zuala says.

A shadow appears on the wall, another silhouette. A tiefling, their horns adorned with jewellery. Molly. He's juggling two scimitars. “The charm strikes again,” he says, with a chuckle. One of the swords escapes from his hand and plunges into his chest. The shadow drops to the ground.

“You think you're cursed,” Zuala says. “But you're not cursed. I didn't see it then, but I see it now. There's something rotten inside you.”

Yasha retches. The churning in her stomach becomes overpowering and something surges up the back of her throat. She rolls over, her hands slamming into the floor as she vomits up a black, tar-like sludge.

“Yasha!” Beau is immediately by her side. She wraps her arms around her, and quickly brushes the hair away from Yasha's face as her body heaves and more black sludge splashes against the stone beneath.

Yasha hiccups. Her throat burns, there's sweat on her forehead, on her chest and back, she's drenched in it, and yet her body feels like fire, the heat coming from inside her turning her breath into short, sharp pants that make her lungs ache.

“Definitely rotten,” Zuala says, her voice echoing over and over.

Yasha hangs there limply, unable to move. Her entire body feels like a lead weight and Beau's firm grip, Beau's strength is the only thing stopping her from plummeting face first into the sludge she's vomited up. But there's no more, her body retches, once and then twice, but there's no more, and that's a relief.

Eventually one of Beau's hands moves from her shoulder, down across her chest as she gently pulls Yasha down into her lap.

Molly suddenly appears in front of her, the wound that killed him visible on his chest, his red eyes piercing into her.

“She is going to die a slow and painful death, just like I did, and there's nothing you can do to stop it,” he says.

“It's too late to save her, even if you were to leave, to run away, it's wouldn't make a different. You care for her, and so she'll die,” Zuala whispers in her ear. “You've killed her, just like you killed me.”

“And me,” Molly adds.

“No,” Yasha whispers. “No.”

Beau's hands are on her shoulders and neck.

“She doesn't even want you. You're just a lost puppy, trailing after her, begging at her heel. She doesn't want you, and you killed her anyway.”

It's the last thing she hears as exhaustion overcomes her and the darkness descends.

-----

The stone feels cold against her cheek, against her palms. There's shouting in the distance, screaming and cries for help. The ground seems to shake beneath her as a loud boom echoes out. She's lying face down, her body racked with pain. Her eyes open slowly. She rolls onto her back and stares up at the sky. Smoke barrels across it.

Yasha turns her head, searching for the source and she sees it, a cathedral, no, the cathedral. The large wooden doors rattle and shake as three large bangs echo out. Her arms and legs feel weak. The sweat pours from her face and she can taste the remnants of the black sludge on her tongue.

There's blood on the stone stairs. A few drops that lead up towards the door, like a trail for her to follow.

“No,” Yasha mutters. “No, not there. I can't go in there.”

The pounding on the door continues; bang, bang, bang.

“Please.”

There's another scream, louder this time. An obvious shriek of pain.

Yasha lets out a long, slow breath. The tears are already making their way down her face, her cheeks are coated in them and yet somehow she finds the strength to push herself to her feet. She stumbles up the stairs, almost falling into the door. Her hands press against the wood, her fingers scraping at it.

There's a large brass handle. Yasha stares down at it, watching as it almost seems to turn itself and the door opens with a slow creak.

All of the noise, the screaming suddenly disappears and there's just a ringing in her ears. The light seems to dim as she steps into the cathedral. The stain glass window has been shattered, shards scattered across the ground.

Beau lies in the middle of the floor. There's a slight glow around her. Skin Gorger sticks out of her chest, pinning her to the ground.

“Beau.” Yasha stumbles over and drops to her knees. She grabs Beau and cradles her in her arms. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” She places her forehead against Beau's. “Please, don't die. Please. Please, don't die.”

Yasha closes her eyes. She can feel Beau's breath on her face as she repeats the words over and over until it no longer sounds like her.

The voice fills her mind, it almost seems to echo around her. It's Beau.

Suddenly their positions switch and it's now Yasha on the floor, being gently cradled into Beau's arms. “Please, Yasha. Please, don't die.”

Yasha lets out a shaky breath. Her hands come up and softly grip onto Beau's arms. “Beau.”

Beau pulls back and Yasha can see the relief wash over her face. “Crap! I thought you were... You threw up all that stuff and then you passed out, I thought you were... Fuck! How do you feel?”

Yasha takes a moment. Her limbs still feel heavy and there's a dull ache in her head, but her stomach is no longer churning and the pain in her chest is almost gone. “Better, I think” Yasha turns and looks at the black sludge that the ground is now covered in. “Is that the toxin?”

“I don't know, maybe. Here.” Beau grabs her water skin and brings it to Yasha' lips.

She takes a few sips and the sharp taste is washed away bit by bit.

Beau brushes the hair away from her face, almost casually, without too much thought and then she catches herself and quickly pulls her hand away, and Yasha wants to tell her that it's okay, but something stops her. Zuala. Her words ring inside Yasha's mind, and so instead she swallows the words and allows Beau to turn away and fuss over her pack.

It takes another few hours for the rest of the Mighty Nein to return and in that time the two of them mostly sit in silence, the tension sitting between them.

The ache in Yasha's body slowly seem to fade and she feels well enough to sit up, just a little.

“Yasha! Yasha!” Jester's voice echoes down the tunnel. She comes running up, quickly followed by the rest of the Mighty Nein. She drops down and wraps her arms around Yasha's neck as best she can. “Are you okay?”

“I'm okay. Beau took care of me.”

“I knew she would.” Jester smiles at Beau and then gives her a quick wink.

Yasha feels herself blushing again and this time she doesn't mind.

“What's this?” Caleb asks, pointing to the black sludge on the ground. He leans down and dips his fingers into it, giving it a bit of a sniff.

“Yasha vomited it up,” Beau says, and there's something in her tone that lets Yasha know she deliberately waited for him to touch it before telling him and then Beau laughs. “I think it was the toxin you were talking about.” Beau jumps to her feet and heads over to him, the two of them starting to talk.

Yasha immediately misses her.

“You look better.” Caduceus' hand presses against her forehead. “You feel better too, but I'll still cast greater restoration in the morning, just to be certain, I don't have it prepared, right now. How was the tea? Did it help?”

“It did. Thank you, Caduceus.”

“It was Beau's idea, but you're welcome.”

“Did you guys find anything?” Beau asks.

“A couple of dead archaeologists, but nothing more than that,” Fjord says.

“So Yasha got hurt for nothing.”

“We had to check, Beau,” Jester says.

Beau sighs. “I know, I just -” she looks down at Yasha “- I know, sorry Fjord.”

“It's okay, I get it. But it's late, we should probably bunker down. Caleb, can you set up the dome?”

“Of course.”

Caleb ends up setting up the dome around her and the snuggle pile ends up being a little closer, and a little tighter this time around. She can feel Beau next to her, her hand close to her thigh. Oh so close.

The next morning Yasha feels good, not one hundred percent, but a lot better than she thought she would. Caduceus casts greater restoration, just like he promised and she feels even better. They gather up their things and begins to make their way out of the tunnel. Beau falls into step with Yasha. The two of them don't speak, but their hands hang loosely by their sides, their fingers almost, but not quite brushing together with every step they take.

#beauyashaweek2021 #beauyasha #beauregard lionett #yasha nydoorin #critical role #beau/yasha #fic

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c-is-for-circinate · 3 years

Text

Post-ep 123 Reaction

Wow, y’all. What a ride.

You know, I used to do these after every single CR episode. Every single one, 2 AM, exhausted and dazed, trying to pour out smart thinky thoughts onto tumblr because I’d be so overflowing with ideas and feelings.

I haven’t so much, lately, and I think part of that is just the fact that I have not been enjoying this Aeor arc. I’ve hated the traveling along with Lucien in a way that’s made it unpleasant to watch, instead of fun. (For me, personally! Many people have been enjoying the tension, and I know the players have been enjoying the tension, and that’s fine! Yay for them!) Some of the ancient ruins explorations, too, have gotten just a little too creepy-horror-game for sitting alone in my apartment at one in the morning. I’ve had less to say. I’ve wanted to say it less.

And that’s not true tonight. I can’t remember the last time I got excited about a CR episode like I was tonight. Oh, there’ve been bits and moments I loved all throughout, there always are, that’s why I’m still watching live even in an arc that hasn’t thrilled me, but I loved the whole episode today, all five and a half hours of it, and god that feels good.

So in celebration, some specific bullet points:

The start of the episode, the discovery of the eyes on Beau and Caleb. The attempts at science. The fear, and yet, also, the glimmers of...okay but what if we could use this? (The moment in the second half, after the Tombtakers ran off, when Beau suggests going into her dreams to ask for help to find them--yes. Yes. I still don’t have a lot of interest in evil wizard plotlines when you doom yourself/the world/etc out of curiosity, but the willingness to dive into this terrifying thing that might change you, might break you, because you need what it can give you in order to save a thing you love (your friends, the world) more than you need to be whole or sane or even, necessarily, alive--that is my GOOD SHIT.)

Guys, I just loved every single minute of that white dragon fight, okay? It was such a mess. It was such a mess! And look, there’s a very specific kind of frenetic energy that the table gets when they find themselves in the middle of a terrifying boss battle, and there’s a different very specific kind of wild ‘this may as well happen’ energy they get when things go terribly wrong entirely due to random chance, and getting the compound of both of those things at once is always glorious. Nobody is prepared for anything! Everybody is freaking out! There’s good reason to suspect that, even if someone dies a bit, everyone’s going to make it out alive, but shit’s wild in the middle there and it’s just such a joy to watch.

Likewise, I know that final fight was really stressful for both the cast and a lot of viewers, but honestly in so many ways I watched it feeling so much less stressed than the past few weeks have made me? Yes, it was a horrible, horrible fight, the team in so far over their heads, so low on sleep and spells and any resources at all. But, god, thank god, at least it was finally over. There’s no going back to fake amity with the Tombtakers after this, no more playing along and trying to plot treason while the person you’re plotting against is probably hearing every word. Enemies can be faced! They can be fought, or fled, or defeated, they can be destroyed or put off for another day, but at least nobody’s pretending any more while trapped in wary uncertain fear of their own houseguests. At least now it’s done.

The fucking Iron Shepherds parallels. Just. Yes. I have hated the trapped feelings of traveling alongside Lucien and his crew, but the Iron Shepherds parallels are, while stab-me-in-the-heart painful, so fucking good. The very best moments with Lucien have been the ones that mimic Mollymauk, not even because they bring hope that Molly could come back to us someday (although that’s there, that faint shimmering thread), but because it is always the best, worst, most glorious twist of irony. Molly died trying to save his friends, saving his friends, from the violence of a monster who was so very like him in all the ways he was terrified to know. Lorenzo and his ragtag group of multiclassed minions, full of loyalty, arrogance, unexpected powers, here to torture and enslave. The Nein have more power now, a little more negotiated control, they are different--but so much of it is just window-dressing as they’ve been dragged along on this pell-mell journey against their will, told when to walk and when to sleep, headed towards a place they would’ve gone anyway at the behest of someone they really do not give a shit about any more. It’s so much the same. And the thing that is beautiful, and the thing that I love, the one thing for which I do love Lucien, is just--god, the irony. The irony! Because it’s not just that Lucien is like Lorenzo, that Molly turns out to be like the man that killed him after all; it’s not just Lucien, all unknowing, rebuilding old grudges and replaying old scenes without even knowing them. It’s the fact that Molly’s death is the only reason this can happen in the first place. Mollymauk Tealeaf, murdered and buried, wanting only to protect his teammates from a megalomaniacal killer--sacrificing himself on a hope and a chance that maybe, maybe, he and his friends could all survive, and they’d all be fucked anyway if he didn’t--he died to do it. And it worked. They were safe, for a little while, for long enough to rescue Jester and Yasha and Fjord. Long enough to keep going, to leave part of the world better than they found it, to canonize him in his own way. Except now here they are again, worse and deeper into the same shit than ever before, and it never could have been like this if Molly had survived. He derailed Lorenzo long enough to save them then, and created the forward path for the Lucien they’re facing now. It’s terrible. It’s beautiful. And that’s some damn good storytelling.

The start of the next episode is going to be very very hard for the Nein! In so many ways, they’re back exactly where they were episodes ago when they first started traveling with Lucien’s crew to begin with: one threshhold crest in their possession, beat to hell and almost entirely out of spells, exhausted, in desperate need of a long rest, with a probably-pursuing enemy that doesn’t seem inclined to let them have one. It’s as untenable now as it was then.

They have so much more knowledge now (was it worth it?). They have their own connection to the city now (will it cost them more than they’ve gained?). Maybe they have a direction. Probably they’ve got options. They’ve got an angel, an owl, a wooly mammoth, and a destination. Maybe, if they’re very fast and very lucky, maybe, if Caleb uses a teleport spell or they somehow manage to navigate through the snow in their exhaustion with all their luck, they’ll make it to Essek in time to collapse almost safely. They’ve needed backup so badly. They’ve needed someone, anyone, to keep them safe for just a few hours so they can plan, and think, and sleep.

And they’ve been so busy trying to play nice, giving in to their fear, trying to avoid the fight they just dove into (with half the team exhausted and half their spell slots gone!), that they haven’t let themselves go and get those things. And now they’re out the other side of that fight. Now they know, just a bit more, what Lucien and his team are made of.

Now they can finally, maybe, maybe, start finding ways to take back their own control instead of keeling over with the fear. I hope. I hope, I hope, I hope.

#cr spoilers #episode 123 #critical role

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essektheylyss · 3 years

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How about a "wearing their lover’s clothes" one, though going out of intent here: mayhaps Essek wearing something of Caleb's because Essek's wardrobe is a little oh-so-conspicious? 👀

this turned into a bit of Fjord friendship but I could not imagine you would mind lol.

This bedroom of the building Fjord has rented for them all to lay low for a while is smaller even than the one he had occupied at the outpost, and a far cry from the cool, dim room of his own now-empty home, but the ocean breeze that meanders lazily through the open balcony doors makes the summer’s heat almost bearable, and the linen curtains that it catches on shade the room from the harshest of the morning sun.

“You should change,” comes the whisper at his back, as he peers through the curtain into the narrow side street below, as bare arms snake around his waist, and he leans back into Caleb’s chest, humming softly and letting his eyes close for a moment.

“Into what? I have nothing here besides what I had with me in Aeor, and none of it is suited for the Menagerie Coast.” He has already shed his fur-lined cloak and mantle, and Caleb fumbles with the clasp of his outer robe, leaving him only in his base layer, and he is reminded again of how different the Coast is from where he has just left, where even one layer of wool is too warm.

“Jester is already planning a shopping trip, but you cannot wear this.” He tugs at the thick sweater that Essek still has not shed. He has abandoned a lot today, and he is not excited to lay himself wholly bare here, a final rejection of everything he has just left.

While he retains the clothing he wore before their hasty and unannounced teleport out of the outpost, he can pretend like maybe if he cast a spell, he could return, that things would be the way they were, even though he knows it’s not true.

Caleb’s arms wrap tighter around him, and he shivers as lips press into his hair. He has to wonder how a part of him can even consider that the way things were was preferable to this.

He pulls the sweater over his head and drops it with the other lined, heavy clothes he has shed. “And what do you propose I wear instead?” he asks, crossing his arms over his now bare chest and turning to face Caleb, who raises an eyebrow.

“Well, I thought you may want to borrow something of mine.”

Essek slouches just a bit to stare up at him, emphasizing the sizable height difference between them. “I don’t think your clothes will fit.”

“My shirts will be a bit large, but they’ll be fine.”

“I can’t exactly forgo trousers.”

“No, I suppose not.” Caleb grins wickedly, and Essek momentarily considers kissing him to wipe the smirk off his face. “I bet I know someone who could alter a pair of pants, though.” He pulls a copper wire from his pocket and speaks into it. “Fjord, we could use some assistance, if you have sewing supplies somewhere in your tool kit easily accessible.”

Essek blinks. “Fjord?”

“Of course.” Caleb lets go of him and turns to the bed to rummage through his things, unceremoniously dumped there an hour earlier by Fjord himself as he had distributed the contents of their recently-retrieved bag of holding. “He says he’ll be right up.” He holds up some well-worn brown trousers, and offers them to Essek. “How about these?”

“Anything is fine.”

Caleb grins again at his resigned voice as a knock echoes on the door, and Fjord pokes his head inside. He raises an eyebrow as his eyes find Essek, taking a seat on a chest at the end of the bed, and Caleb, still sorting through clothing, both shirtless. “Can I help you? Tell me you have a favor to ask that will get me out of this shopping trip.”

Essek barks a laugh. “It is quite optimistic of you to think your girlfriend will allow that.”

“Essek has nothing to wear, so I thought I’d lend him something of mine, but he is of course, ah—“

“Short,” Essek offers, deadpan, and Fjord laughs this time.

“Well, you’ll have to put the pants on for me to fit them, but yes, I can make that happen.”

He sits on the edge of the bed and unfolds a small leather-wrapped sewing kit, setting pins on the nightstand as Essek awkwardly shuffles to Caleb, where he is at least somewhat out of Fjord’s view as he changes. The pants that Caleb offered are at least six inches too long, and a bit large in the waist, but admittedly less ill-fitted than he’d expected.

Fjord beckons him over and pins the hem, and Essek stands perfectly still for several minutes in silence. He is familiar with getting fitted for clothing, but he is not particularly comfortable when it’s a friend doing the fitting.

“This is the quick and dirty method, and you are, somehow, not nearly as disproportionately skinny as your boyfriend, so I’m not going to bother much with the waist,” he says. Essek flushes further at that, and Caleb coughs behind him. “It will be a bit of a shit job, but it’ll work well enough for an afternoon. If you are attached to this pair of pants for whatever reason, I can do it properly tomorrow, but Jester threatened to start baking if she does not get out of this building within an hour, and then the entire day will be lost.”

“Is there anything here to bake with?”

“Yeza and Veth already returned with their groceries, so I imagine she will go knocking for some flour soon enough.” Fjord pulls back. “Okay, you can take them off now.”

Glad of the warmth, Essek flushes and strips the pinned trousers carefully to avoid getting stabbed. He puts his own pants back on in the meantime, even with as hot as they are, and Fjord gets to work.

“Where did you learn to sew?” he asks, taking a seat on the bed and helping Caleb organize the pile there, keeping an eye on Fjord’s deft stitching.

“Fjord was a sailor,” Caleb pipes up, but Fjord shakes his head, barely glancing up.

“It was certainly a useful skill on a ship, kept me in the good graces of whatever crew I happened to be a part of, but I learned to sew at the orphanage. Otherwise I wasn’t going to have much in the way of clothes, as fast as I grew as a child.”

“Orphanage?” Essek blinks. “I don’t think I knew that.”

“No, I don’t believe you did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not something I speak of often. It’s not far from here, actually.” He speaks around a few pins in his mouth easily. “Caleb, these are very worn out. They’re going to need a patch on the knee soon enough.”

“Ah, yes, they are… they’re the first pair I stole after I escaped.”

Fjord raises an eye at the pair of them, landing on Essek, who fidgets again.

Caleb changes the subject by tossing a thin linen shirt to Essek. It buttons halfway down, without much in the way of a collar, and he pulls it over his head. Already it’s an improvement over the wool he has abandoned on the floor, and he stands to collect it and fold it and tuck it away in the chest, where he wonders if he will need it again. Already it feels like a shoddy disguise, a costume he put on trying to be someone.

Wearing Caleb’s clothes, it doesn’t feel like he has quite settled into someone else, but it’s a step closer to someone he wants to be, without all the constraints of the life he has shed.

What little he carries by way of possessions put away in the small closet, which Essek imagines they will later magick to accommodate a bit more space, Caleb settles beside him on the bed and fixes one button that has not been pulled all the way through.

“You look good in my clothes,” he comments softly, and Fjord makes a derisive retching sound in his throat without looking up.

“If you want my assistance, please wait until I have finished and left, thank you. I’ve third wheeled Beau and Yasha too many damn times—“

“Alright,” Caleb says, laughing. The heat of this city in midsummer is stupefying, and the shift in weather—in life, really—has been quite a lot for just one day. Essek rests his head in Caleb’s lap, fingers threading through his hair, and exhales.

“How long do you think that’ll take?” he asks, his voice already thick with sleep, and Fjord glances at him.

“Maybe another half an hour,” he says, and if he wants to make another teasing comment, he hides it well.

“Okay,” he yawns. He weaves his hands around Caleb’s shin, and lets his eyes close. They have time, of course. He can rest for a few minutes while Fjord completes this sewing, while Caleb combs through his hair, while the breeze from outside pulls the fear from him with every new breath. “Wake me then.”

#critical role #cr fic #shadowgast #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #fjord #fic prompts #freckledmccree #me: and all of them go hide in port damali and rent out a four unit building #and beau and yasha have a floor and caleb and essek have a floor and the lavorres (marion jester and fjord now adopted) have a floor and th #because everything's fine! it's totally fine!#they're just gonna go be cute roommates and hide in port damali and lay low for a while! everything's fine!#maybe they take a side quest to kill a snea snake #yanno lots of options because they are all completely fine #hahahahahaha it's great! we're doing well #anyway lmaooooo #also it's me so it doesn't need to be said but also this is sfw don't worry

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thisiswhereikeepmyseratonin · 3 years

Text

If Fjord tries to kill the empire kids like he promised he’s not going to get far. Because of course everybody understands what he’s doing and why but there’s got to be another way, right?

As if Veth is going to let him kill “her boy” “the second love of my life” the first person to be nice to her after she got transformed into a goblin. She would rather go against Fjord immediately.

Yasha, who loves and adores Beau. Do you think she’s going to let someone kill her, after she left Zuala to die and regretted it and let it chain her down in pain, do you think she going to let that happen again?

Do really really think that Caduceus who believes in the sanctity of death of all things and that everything has its time is going to think that this is okay? That he’s going to watch Fjord, the one he taught about faith to and now cares enough about him to be mischievous to him because “I love you like family”, he’s going to see him go against their friends and accept that’s the way it has to be?

Jester loves Fjord and Beau and Caleb. She’s full of love and she’s going to see the man she loves try and stab her friends. She was willing to grab onto Artagan and not let go when he was almost taken away from her. You think she doesn’t have that dedication to Caleb and Beau? Yeah, no she may be nice and happy but she’s also pretty vindictive and trickster-y when she wants to be and she’s going to whack her love over the head with a lollipop rather than watch her friends die.

Y’think Essek who just learned to care about people after a century is going to let Mr. “You were not born with venom in your veins” who saw him having a hard time and told him to “just breathe” which is probably the first time anybody in a long time was allowed to see past the veneer of confidence and just comfort him, die? Well maybe but I hope not.

In summary if Fjord tries to kill the empire kids there will be three unconscious bodies of two humans and a half-orc with crossbow bolts sticking out him like a pin cushion

#cr spoilers #critical role #fjord being sad and resigned going to fufill his promise just getting immediately bombarded by the others is somewhat hilarious to me tho #just ‘I’m sorry my friends’ thwack unconscious floating half-orc #at least they’ll be able to drag the bodies around more easily in the astral sea

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seafleece · 4 years

Text

(a conversation)

“why weren’t you angry?”

fjord’s out cold. there’s seafoam, a rime of salt, laced pink by blood, drying in a trail from his mouth and down his throat. caduceus is at the desk by their bed, looking into a mug. the glimpse she catches reveals it hasn’t been washed out in a few days, and a funny pink bloom is developing along the inside.

caduceus turns in time for her to return her gaze to her hands. “hm?”

“back outside the hut. you said you understood. you didn’t tell me i didn’t care.“

“did you want me to?”

“i just— fjord and caleb were really angry. they care about the group. i know you do, too.”

“yes, i do.”

“but you weren’t mad.”

and caduceus seems to verge on anger, then, for a moment— it’s a rare thing, he just puts down his cup and stands, rather bluntly, walks over to sit beside her on the bed.

“miss beau, how do you know that i care about everyone?”

“i mean, you heal us all the time, when you could be doing jester’s cool stuff— you came with us to kill lorenzo just because we asked you. you never heal yourself, you didn’t even make veth apologize when she killed you—“

“actions.”

“yeah.”

“you do a lot of acting, as well.”

“yeah, i mean—“

“you run up to things ten times larger than yourself, and you punch them. and when they try to attack anyone besides you, you stop them. yasha stabbed you— through you— and then you fought next to her. you’ve spoken to royalty on our behalf, three times.”

she says nothing, won’t look at him. the thought occurs that maybe beauregard lionett could count on her fingers the number of people who will tell her she does good. on one hand, even.

“what did you say, to isharnai? just. say it out loud, what your offer was.”

“i said i’d leave, if she un-cursed veth. that i’d be alone again.”

“you offered your happiness for someone else.”

“yeah, but it was stupid.”

“maybe. maybe you underestimate how much you’re needed. but it would be stupider to not see that you care for your friend. a friend who would not do the same for you.”

he looks over at fjord, sleeping peacefully, deep breaths, like the entirety of his body is devoted to the task of maintaining them. “you know, fjord and caleb like to talk about the group. they announce what it means, when they do something. maybe it helps them understand. i think maybe, when they were trying to convince you to say that you cared, they were not trying to convince you, but themselves.”

“well, i mean, i could say it more—“

“it is not a good defense to be made, that someone else is at fault when you fail to interpret them.”

“oh.”

“we would have found you, again,” he says, and smiles like it’s not supposed to make her cry. “isharnai, whatever she is, couldn’t have stopped us. in another world, we would have killed her.”

she laughs, and presses her palm under her eye. “we still could.”

“i would be angry, if she took you from us. jester, i think, would be furious beyond anything we’ve seen. but expressing anxiety, fear of losing someone by being angry with them rather that the thing that would take them, it’s a negative for a negative. hurt, trying to solve hurt. i don’t think it has helped you understand that you care, to be told you don’t.”

he looks at the ceiling for a long moment.

“did she ever thank you?”

“hm?”

“veth. for offering.”

“no— i, she almost said it made sense, which might be worse. she told me she was glad i looked out for caleb, in that tub.”

“she didn’t thank you, for offering the thing you cared about most so she could be returned. and afterwards, she allowed fjord and caleb to tell you that it was an act of not caring.”

“guess so.”

“well, i’ll say it,” and he takes her hand. “thank you, beau.”

“i— you’re welcome.”

he turns to look at fjord again. “he should say it, too. maybe more than once.”

“he— i know he thinks it.”

“if he expects you to express that you care the way he understands it, you can expect the same of him.”

i’m not good at expecting things, she doesn’t say, because he knows it already.

“you know what’s funny, miss beau?” there’s a small smile on his face.

“what?”

“i hear, a lot, from veth and even fjord and caleb, sometimes, that you’re angry, yourself. prickly. that it’s hard to talk to you.”

“yeah?”

“i’m a little disappointed i have yet to see it.”

there’s a warm, fuzzy sort of feeling burgeoning, like being healed, enough it makes a smile unfurl on her face. “you could try telling me i don’t care.”

#listen i need catharsis for that gd scene #my writing #critical role #caduceus clay #beauregard lionett #veth brenatto #just another character study #we need new eps if only because i can literally see everyone’s opinions calcifying

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spoiler1001 · 3 years

Note

I hope I haven't missed the prompt giving. Prompt/idea: Molly was never gone from the M9. They were always with them, watching over, touching their lives in little ways. A card pushed for Jester in a reading. Whispered encouragement for Yasha. A book found with the perfect information for Beau. Inspiration for the perfect trick for Nott/Veth. A candle glowing brighter for Caleb. Just a little something to say "I'm here". Maybe they are still, waiting for the chance to help the M9 save themself.

Molly felt cold. The pain was gone. All that was left was cold and numbness. The glaive had hurt, it even killed him.

Dying felt… off. He was Molly. He had lived. He had… but he didn’t leave. He could watch them. He saw them.

Caleb was gentle with Molly’s body. Molly was surprised. Caleb was polite and formal, but Molly could see the anger and violence under the wizard’s skin. Molly always saw Caleb. He wanted to help Caleb and now-

“Shine bright, circus man.” Caleb had whispered. His voice was soft, pained. He brushed the hair out of Molly’s face. Molly could barely feel it in his spiritual form, but the sentimentality behind the gesture was felt through the realms.

Ravens flew all around Molly but didn’t seem to get close to him. They were just watching him. Like he was watching his group. Molly felt fear build in his soul. He didn’t want to go. He wanted his friends.

----

Molly saw Caleb burn Lorenzo. Caleb looked cold, distant.

“You shouldn’t have killed my cat.” Caleb’s voice was flat. Caleb seemed angry. Truly angry. If Molly had been alive, it would have been scary. Not that Molly minded ‘scary’. His first love was Yasha. Oh. no. no. no. Yasha shouldn’t see his grave.

They went back to the grave. Caleb was shaking, barely able to pull himself together. Molly frowned and tried to grab someone, to hold onto anyone, but it was useless. It caused a cool breeze to flutter through all of their hair.

Yasha’s scream shook Mollymauk, causing his form to flutter for a moment. Mollymauk watched Yasha run away, tears in her eyes.

Molly barely had time to register that he could see her wings in the zone that he currently resided in. Yasha was gone before Molly could say anything. Molly turned to see Jester placing a card on the grave. The moon card. Mollymauk looked up to see the Moonweaver, smiling down at him. Molly felt conflicted at the sight. It was nice that He could see the god he prayed to. He would rather be with the group. He had to let them know that he was there. He was with them.

----

Molly watched Yasha be overtaken. He couldn’t do anything about it. Yasha was gone and things were bad. So bad. Her wings flickered from the plane and her soul disconnected from her body. Yasha was still alive but he could see her become completely overwhelmed with magic that wasn’t hers.

Molly screamed but nothing was audible. Molly growled and cursed in infernal but the rest of the group didn’t hear him.

Caleb did take a deep breath and whispered a prayer to the moonweaver. Hoping that Mollymauk would forgive them. A tear ran down his cheek.

“Your firefly thinks much of you.” The Moonweaver smiled at Mollymauk.

“Caleb- you didn’t do this.” Molly was kneeling next to Caleb, the two of them staring the door down. Molly barely noticed that The Moonweaver spoke to him.

If she was another god, she would have been offended. As it stood, this kind of attachment was something she watched over. This was a prayer to her, not just with Caleb’s words, but also with the way that Molly had to fight to not reach for Caleb.

“Mollymauk.” The Moonweaver tried again. Molly finally looked up. “Your wizard has the loyalty that echos that of love.”

Molly had no idea what to do with that information. The Moonweaver continued.

“You are connected in ways that only fate will tell.” The Moonweaver smiled.

“But Yasha.” Molly whispered.

“She will be returned to you.” The moonweaver promised.

----

Caleb slept alone one night and Molly was laying down on the bed. He was alone, and Caleb was curled over a desk, with a candle next to him burning bright. Yasha had been brought back to the group, safe and happy. They were resting in the Xhorhous. Everything worked out for the moment.

“I miss you, darling.” Molly confessed. The only response was that the candle burned brighter. That wouldn’t do. The wax was starting to leak onto the table. Molly’s tail lashed out, extinguishing the flame and cooling the wax. Caleb was still sleeping, snoring a little bit.

The moon shone through the window, showing a shine on Caleb’s soul, sparkling right under his wrist.

Molly looked over, and it was in the shape of a firefly, blinking. Of course, Molly knew it wasn’t on his skin, but much like Yasha’s wings, the essence of his being.

----

Molly hated Lucien. He hated the smug attitude, the fact that he marked Beau and Caleb. This was just as bad as Trent. Lucien was using Molly’s face to do it two, that was not going to fly.

But it almost did. Lucien got one good hit in. Lucien’s sword stabbed Caleb where Mollymauk had been stabbed. The sword bending to go around his eye.

“No!” Molly roared and Lucien stumbled, reacting to the sudden noise. Oh. Ok. Nine eyes can see Molly. Molly hissed and leaned over Caleb’s form.

“We’ll that other part of me seems to have latched onto you.” Lucien sneered. Caleb laughed. Molly looked down and Caleb’s eyes were focused on Molly for the first time in months. “Well that doesn’t matter, this wizard is mine.”

“No,” Molly growled.

Caleb lifted his hand and a spell was sent through the air.

For a second, nothing happened. Then the body sucked into itself. Molly blinked and looked down to see Caleb staring at Molly.

“Hello, My friend,” Caleb whispered. The clerics ran to Caleb side, casting healing spell after healing spell. Caleb was no longer looking at Molly. Instead, he grabbed his stone.

“I can bring Molly back.”

----

Caleb Widogast is a man of many talents, Molly decided. Apparently one of them was commanding reality to bend to his will. Molly laid in a warm bed, Caleb holding onto Molly. Molly himself had a new tattoo. A firefly on his wrist. Matching Caleb oh so wonderfully.

“Molly, why did you stay?” Caleb whispered, seeming to ask multiple questions at once.

“Because I love you and the others. This is my family.”

#caleb widogast #mollymauk tealeaf #widomauk #tw death #tw stabbing #Caleb is a firefly #prompts #prompt

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teacup-of-candlelight · 3 years

Text

how long has it been since you slept?

1:00…. 1:30… 2:00?

2:30.

Fjord rolled over and began to slowly and silently touch each of his friends, the Mighty Nein, and cast water breathing for all of them. Normally being awake at 2:30 in the morning would not have been Fjord’s thing, but ever since the incident four nights ago sleep had been turbulent at best. If he slept at all.

Beau.

Caleb.

He went one by one counting his friends, chanting their names in his head so as to make certain he didn’t miss a single one. He couldn’t bare it if anything bad happened to them because of him.

Caduceus.

Veth.

Jester-

Jester?

Fjord started out of his silent chanting.

Where was Jester?

Panicked, he shot his eyes around the dome in search for the little blue tiefling. He had already cast the spell on everyone else. But Jester was nowhere to be found.

Rising fear and logic had a short but heated struggle in Fjord’s head before he finally gave in to logic. None of the rest of his friends had been awakened, no alarms had tripped, he couldn’t hear anything that would suggest a second invasion. But even so… where was she?

Tiptoeing as softly as possible over his sleeping comrades, the half-orc left the dome, endeavoring to not wake his compatriots in the process.

“Jester..” He called softly into the bowels of the ship. “Jester!” Fjord found it difficult to shout and whisper at the same time. He continued to look, but with each passing minute his anxiety grew. Eventually he decided to abandon the lower decks all together and check topside. At least there might be more light to see by up there.

Sure enough, as soon as Fjord reached the top of the creaking wooden steps to the main deck of the ship, there he could see the form of Jester Lavorre in white under gown, tail twitching in the moonlight. She leaned against the railing, staring out at the sea, the breeze playing with her dark hair. Fjord let out a sigh of relief.

“Jester, there you are! Thank gods. What are you doing here?”

“Nothing…” came her slow reply. She didn’t turn to face him. “Just looking.”

Fjord heard something that could have been a sniffle, but that didn’t make any sense to him so he attempted to ignore it. Instead he took a deep breath and moved to stand next to Jester at the ships railing. They stood in silence for a heartbeat, watching the moon play on the waves, before he remembered his initial reason for finding the young blue woman. A little smirk crept onto his lips as he reached up and pated Jester’s head.

“Water Breathing…!” He declared playfully. “Now you should be good for the next 24 hours. Although it probably took me a good five minutes to find you so from now on you have to wait five minutes after the others. Which is really quite inconvenient for me you know since I should really be sleeping at this time of night…” Fjord sniffed and watched Jester letting his idle attempts at chatter to fade. His puffed up chest deflated the longer he watched her, his concern growing by the second.

“How long has it been since you’ve slept, Fjord?” She finally turned to look him in the eyes, face small and serious.

Gods. The moonlight did beautiful things to her eyes.

“Like, really slept?” She emphasized with a slight pout.

Fjord was momentarily stunned, both by the ethereal image of the woman before him and by her sudden and direct question.

“Er.. uh. I was sleeping earlier tonight…! But you know, Yasha snores and…” He shifted uncomfortably. “Well you don’t seem to have much room to talk. How long have you been up here?”

“We’re not talking about me, Fjord, we’re talking about you!” She called him on his bluff with an adorable scowl. Her expression softened and she took a deep breath before continuing. “You haven’t slept through the night at all since then, have you?” It was phrased as a question, but Jester said it as a statement of fact.

Fjord swallowed. She wasn’t wrong.

“I heard you screaming… Was it nightmares again? From Uk’otoa?” She continued in a softer voice, eyes trained on the glistening dark waves off the side of the ship once again.

“Well now- I didn’t scream-” Fjord quickly defended his pride. If he had screamed for real he surely would have woken up the rest of his friends who were sleeping in such close proximity to him. But that wasn’t why he felt the need to correct her…

“Okay, okay! But you know what I meant.” The blue tiefling gesticulated grandly and rolled her eyes, voice pitching higher in impatient annoyance. Fjord always secretly thought it adorable when she got exasperated, but somehow the experience was markedly less fun when it was directed at him.

She was trying to hide her worry behind a veneer of something like cold aloofness, but no matter how high in the air she stuck her button nose, he could still see her knuckles white in the moonlight as they interlaced tightly, resting on the railing.

“Jester…” He sighed. “I’m alright. Really.”

“Stop telling me you’re okay! Like nothing happened!” She rounded back on him, hair whipping around her, horns glinting in the starry light. Violet eyes watery. “Because it did Fjord!” He could now see the purple tinges around her eyes and nose.

Had she been…? Oh gods.

“You died!” Jester’s voice hitched on the word died. “And… And I couldn’t do anything.”

Jester had turned her face away from Fjord, head down and bangs covering her eyes. Oh gods… It seemed to Fjord that she had been crying, or something very close. He couldn’t fathom why, but she seemed to be aiming all of her emotion at him. It wasn’t as if she—

Even so he wanted to support her… not that he really knew how.

Fjord put a tentative hand on her arm. “Jester, you look sad…” That sentence had made sense in his head until he heard it out loud. The half-orc silently cursed himself as he scrambled to find better words despite his bleary sleep deprived mind. “Ehr! What I mean to say is- Why are you upset about that?”

“Because,” Fjord couldn’t breathe when she looked at him this time. “I care about you!” She choked back a tiny sob. Little streams of water now freely fell down her soft cheeks.

“Jester-”

“I promised you before that I would heal you when you were hurting- if Uk’otoa hurt you. But when you needed me.. I couldn’t get to you! I-I let you die, Fjord.” Jester aggressively wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “And I couldn’t even heal you…!” The girl finally gave in to her tears and stopped speaking.

Fjord once again felt as though there were a sword in his chest. How was it—how could it possibly be—that seeing Jester cry made Fjord almost wish the that he actually had been stabbed again, instead of having to see her like this. He would do anything to make her feel better. Take a sword. Fight a sea god… Hold her?

Somehow that one seemed harder than the others. More terrifying.

“Hey, hey…!” Fjord consoled the crying Jester softly. He cupped her face with his hands almost instinctively, and tried to wipe the tears from her purple flushed cheeks.

Her face fit so neatly in his hands. Her skin was soft and warm to the touch. His heart hiccupped in his chest, but he pressed it down. She was more important than his feelings right now.

“Jester listen to me—” She looked up at him, lips quivering, still sniffling violently. “It’s okay. You did your best! You always have. And we’re alright.”

Jester stopped sniffling for a moment, caught off guard by his word choice. She wasn’t the only one, but Fjord didn’t exactly have the time to truly contemplate the implications of it. First he had to help her. He could have a self-chastising session later.

“You do so much for me all the time,” he couldn’t help but chuckle fondly, “it’s alright if you share that burden every now and then.”

“You’re not a burden Fjord!—” Jester tried to protest, but he kept going.

“Think about it. Caduceus was there to help you.” He thought about that for a second before adding, “Help me. Either way, you’ve never let me down in any way Jester. What happened to me wasn’t your fault.”

The tiefling girls violet eyes began to glisten with water once more. “But-!”

“No buts!” Fjord interjected sternly, a finger out in front of her face. Contemplatively he studied her face, subconsciously noting every freckle. “We’re in this together, you and I. We’ve always been a team, yeah?”

With a hesitant hum she nodded in agreement.

“But we’re not alone either. We have friends that care about us support us too. Hells, I have this past that I’ve been trying so hard to get rid of that I just can’t seem to shake! But that’s not your fault. We’re not alone in this. We have the rest of the Nein to fall back on… So don’t be sad about not healing me this time, okay?”

Heaving a heavy sigh Jester consented. “…Okay.”

“Okay.” Fjord smiled fondly at her, hands still holding her cheeks.

“But Fjord,” a small blue hand came up and rested on top of Fjord’s calloused green one. “Are you sure you’re really okay? That you’ll be okay?”

Bless her, her expression was still filled with concern. For him.

The man let out a troubled sigh. “I’m, sure I will be. With time.”

“And sleep…!” Jester giggled softly through her drying tears.

“And sleep.” Fjord agreed.

The two continued to share a look, hands touching still, hair and clothes tugged on by the sea breeze, eyes locked. What in Exandria had Fjord ever done to deserve someone like the young lady before him who would worry about him? Butterflies began to crawl their way up his gullet, and he became instantly aware of their rather intimate position.

“Ehem!” The half orc cleared his throat as he removed his hands from Jester. “Well, eh, we better be getting back below decks, yeah? Sleep, and all that.”

“Oh yeah, yeah, yeah!” She emphatically agreed, rubbing at her face in an attempt to clear it. “It would be really bad if the others woke up to like, poop or something, and saw that we were missing. I bet they’d be like, super worried.” Finally she smiled. Fjord smiled too.

“Probably! I know I w—” He caught himself. That had been too close for comfort. Moonlight glowed softly on Jester’s skin. The waves were lapping at the ship rhythmically, above the stars were twinkling.

The ensuing internal struggle last only a second or two but felt to Fjord like ages. Half of him yearned to press his lips to hers. But the other half knew that no matter how he may have felt, this wasn’t the time. He wasn’t ready. He hadn’t even been brave enough to even hold her properly. Not yet.

In compromise, Fjord leaned forward and planted a small kiss at the top of Jester’s forehead. “Thank you, for your concern. It means a lot to me. But you don’t have to worry your pretty little head about me anymore. I’ll be fine.”

The young woman’s cheeks turned a shade darker. She looked like she was searching for the right thing to say, but by the time she had found it Fjord was already entering the depths of the ship.

Despite the freshness of the incident only days before, tonight Fjord knew he would sleep.

#fjorester #im so sorry #this is my first cr fic and it might be a mess or a trainwreck IDK #half of it was written early in the year and the other half I just finished so pls have mercy on it #Fjorester fic #long post #Critical role #my writing

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cankarmawrite · 3 years

Note

9 + 15, but both at the same time.

And make it Beauyasha.

9 + 15. things you said when i was crying + things you said with too many miles between us (beauyasha)

CW: Mentions of medical instruments/monitors, near-death, medical experimentation, injury

“She’s not in good shape Beau,” The sound of Beau’s stifled gasp on the other side of the phone made Fjord’s heart seize. He hated seeing any of his friends in pain, but Beau held a special place in his heart, so this was especially difficult for him. “Caddy was able to disable the chip, but we still need to remove it.”

“Let me t-talk to her,” Beau pleaded, her voice shaking as tears made hot trails down her cheeks. “I should have been helping with extraction-”

“You almost died,” Fjord chided gently as he looked at the bloody, barely conscious woman strapped to the gurney in front of him with all kinds of tubes and wires protruding from her body. “Also, she hasn’t been awake enough to-”

The half-orc watched as the tattooed arm bound in a sling across Yasha’s chest moved to pull at her oxygen mask, her teeth gritting in pain as the injured shoulder screamed in protest.

Is she here? I need to tell her...I have to tell her…Yasha’s brain felt like it was full of lead and cotton, but she pushed through the pain and kept trying to make her arm respond to her slow commands. She could hear Beau’s name being mentioned, and her head slowly lolled in the direction of Fjord’s voice.

“Hang on,” Fjord set the phone aside and reached out to stop Yasha’s shaking hands from moving any further before he unhooked the oxygen mask and grabbed the satellite phone. “I don’t know how long she’ll be awake. She’s got enough meds on board to knock a horse on its ass and I’m about to give her a sedative for landing and transport to the hospital.”

From her place in the cockpit, Keg relayed that they’d be landing in ten minutes through his headset and Fjord reached down to tap Caleb twice on the shoulder to remind him to redo the buckles on his safety restraints . He looked down at the battered woman before him and sighed, moving the phone to her ear to allow her to speak if she was able.

“Beau-” The first try was a raspy whisper, her vocal cords likely needing some rest after the abuse they’d suffered in the past week. She swallowed and tried speaking again, “Beau?”

“Yasha!” The sound of Beau’s familiar, real voice on the other end of the line made her heart skip a beat. She wasn’t dead. It hadn’t happened again.

Despite the assurance of the Mighty Nein members who assisted in her rescue, there was a tiny voice in the back of her head that insisted she killed Beau last week at the Cathedral in St. Petersburg.

“...Caduceus told me they’re taking you to his family’s hospital. I wish I could be there but...”

After a moment of trying to decipher what Beau was saying, Yasha realized her own brain was far too fuzzy to comprehend anything, so she shushed Beau a few times and waited until there was silence on the other end. The cocktail of medications in her system made it hard to think so she spoke slowly to ensure every word was heard.

“I wanted to tell you before…” She took a deep breath, wincing at the sharp stabbing pain she felt momentarily in her ribs before exhaling slowly. Yasha needed to relay her message to Beau before she completely succumbed to the darkness tugging at the edges of her mind. “You win...I love you.”

There was a moment of silence before she heard Beau whisper reverently, as if questioning a gift she’d just received from a god, “Really?

“Yes, really,” Yasha mumbled, blinking her single good eye against the heaviness of whatever Fjord was injecting into her IV line. “Gotta go…Beau? ’M glad I didn’t kill you-”

“Shhh...we’ll talk the next time you wake up. I love you, Yasha.” Beau sniffled quietly into the phone. “Don’t die.”

“You too...” The woman mumbled, her head falling to the side as the sedatives finally did their job and knocked her out. Fjord smiled fondly down at Yasha while he reattached the oxygen mask to her face.

“Oh, and Fjord? You owe me $50,” Caleb spoke up from his seat near, face twisted into a wry grin as he tapped the side of his nose with a single finger. “Ich kenne meine schwester.”

#beauyasha #undercover au #beauyasha fic #angst #beauregard lionett #yasha nydoorin #spy au #numbers prompts #critical role writing #critical role #the first time they say 'i love you'#near death experience #beauyasha angst #karma writes things #my writing

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eponymous-rose · 4 years

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Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E98 (March 10, 2020)

Be warned: there are spoilers for the most recent episode below!

Tonight’s guests are Ashley Johnson and Travis Willingham!

Announcements: On Monday at 7 PM Pacific, there will be a special Doom: Eternal one-shot! VOD will be on YouTube on Wednesday. We’re one week away from the release of the new campaign book, Explorer’s Guide to Wildemount!

Episode 98: Dark Waters

Stats! 124 days passed between the Nein’s voyages at sea. It’s been 77 days since Fjord’s pact was broken. Fjord took 40% of the damage taken by the Nein and the crew (Yasha took second-most at 21%).

What’s it like RPing dream sequences with Matt? Ashley: “It gives me the fear.” They both agree it’s a panic feeling first, and then you get excited to see where he’ll go. Travis: “All cognizant thought goes out the window.” Ashley feels like she rushes it sometimes to avoid keeping the attention on her too long, and Travis dreads the open-ended questions: “What do you do?”

This is the first time Travis has had to wait a week to find out if his character will be revived. “Aside from analyzing the fight, it’s been okay, just because we’ve got two dope-ass clerics who feel pretty strongly about Fjord, so I hope we’re in a good place.” He’s mostly concerned about the intangibles and what they don’t know. He didn’t know the orb was still in him---he thought it was destroyed or reset when he threw away the sword. He’s worried that if they try “the normal cleric stuff”, it’s not going to work. He does almost prefer fights that are just dropped on them out of nowhere, because the anticipation is often the most stressful part.

Ashley’s still not sure if she has the feathers or not, since that was in a dream. “Building the character, I didn’t know that would be a possibility for that to change.” It’ll have to come out in the game. “Outside of that, I think-- obviously there’s a lot of healing with the group, but I think in terms of Yasha’s relationship with the Storm Lord, she’s still figuring that out. It’s very tough love, which she’s getting the tough love from the Storm Lord and the familial and kindness and love from the Mighty Nein. So that combo is going to be really good for her to turn things around. I don’t think she’s ever really had a feeling of worthiness outside of maybe being loved by Zuala. So I don’t know what that looks like for her yet, but we’ll see. I think she doesn’t fully know what her purpose is yet.”

Did Travis anticipate a confrontation with Uk’otoa back on the sea? “No, I’m a fucking moron. I didn’t think of that at all! I don’t have anything the ol’ snea snake wants anymore.” Brian: “Yes you do!” Travis: “I didn’t know that!” Dani: “The dark seed of power in you the Wildmother saw?” Travis: “I thought it was metaphorical! Well, now that you say it like that...” He wasn’t upset at all. “More than anything I was just trying to plan my branch narrative for what was going to happen next. More than anything, it became clear that they had just massive intent to come and kill me. I mean, Matt played it beautifully, so even in moments where I was disappointed in myself, like forgetting that enemy characters can hold their turns.”

Cosplay of the Week: a dramatic cape-flaring Fjord! (Ming.of.mings, photo by Rsellos, makeup by Omglobnunu, all on Instagram)

Travis: “The thing that hit me the most was when it came over and it grabs Fjord’s body and starts to walk him off the side of the ship, I was like, Mercer, what the fuck, man! I’m already dead! Give me a second!” He notes that they haven’t done a resurrection ritual yet in this campaign, only revivifies. Losing the two death saves when getting stabbed while unconscious was the moment when he realized how significant the intent was here. Everyone notes how clutch the Counterspell was.

On Jester and Beau showing concern for Yasha’s wellbeing: “I think for a lot of people, sometimes accepting compliments makes you uncomfortable. I’m one of those people. It’s a weird thing for Yasha to hear, because even in her tribe it’s not like that was a normal way of communicating with each other. Only compliments she would have gotten about how she looks or her character as a person were from Zuala. I think, especially with Jester, she’s such an open character that has so much love to give, just bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, just refreshing to be around, they’re all teaching Yasha very, very positive ways to feel and accept that.”

They talk about the way the improvisation can lead to poetic parallels like Yasha and Fjord falling/rising. Ashley: “I feel like so much of that is Matt, and he’s such a masterful storytelling.” Travis: “It’s such a gift, too. He’s giving you something new in the story that you created, and so you have instant ownership of this thing he made just for you.” Ashley: “You just hope you can meet him where he’s at.”

On Yasha’s harp: “Music is a very huge part of my life. I’m using the harp as, yes, for self-care for her, but also I think music can be a form of therapy. There was a moment where I was like, man, it would be so fun to multiclass as a bard, but then I remembered my wisdom is so low... it wouldn’t work. And I actually had talked to Matt about it. There’s more that I want to explore with that, and I don’t quite know what it is yet. I think where it sits right now, it’s a form of therapy for her. I’d been wanting to give her positive things to do to try to pull her out of this place that she’s in, and I think it’s really helpful.”

Seeing the sword again: “I think more than anything, it just unsettled Fjord. There was nothing about that that was easy to adapt to: seeing the sword, and then seeing multiples of the sword, just wondering who is this, what do they have, do they have abilities, what am I missing, how much do I not know about it?” He was initially worried that it was Avantika come back to life.

Fan Art of the Week: Caleb, Caduceus, and Fjord during the fight! (CreativeBleu on Twitter)

On Yasha having a lot of run-ins with creepy people: “I think a lot of that is because of the way I rolled the character, I rolled really low for Yasha’s stats, which is a bummer. She’s very susceptible because of that to being swayed, as we have noticed with Obann and things that have happened in her past. That’s maybe something that she puts out there, where people pick up on that. There’s obviously still and probably will always be a bit of darkness in her. I think people like Icky-thong and Lord Sharpe and people like that can pick up on it. I wanted to play a character like that anyway, I wanted to play somebody with a little darkness in there. I do think it is a source of frustration for her, and that’s where a lot of the guilt comes from.”

Has piecing together Caleb’s past changed Fjord’s opinion of him? “No, not at all. Maybe it’s just me, but seeing how much pain Caleb carries with himself from his past-- if he was flippant about it, that might give him pause, but he’s so fucking tortured about it. He can’t harbor any ill-will or confusion about where his heart lies. He’s full of regret, there’s a real person in there. I think also Fjord is like, I don’t want to be defined by my past, it really, really sucked. Every day since Fjord started with the M9 has been continually the best days of his life, and I think the same is probably true of Caleb. There’s no judgment because that doesn’t help anything. He just want to observe, absorb, acknowledge. You’re making positive changes, and that’s everything. That’s heroic, despite what you think is monstrous. That’s not who I see.” Brian talks about how life can end “when you choose to be defined by your worst moment”. Travis: “People that chain themselves to their past obviously haven’t moved beyond that past, and that process looks different for everyone.” But he believes you should get to define who you are after you’ve moved past that.

On the few new lighthearted moments with Yasha: “I think it’s the comfortability of the people around her. I think it’s just getting more comfortable with everybody, and also it’s just... I don’t know. If I think of something that I think would be funny, I’ll probably say it, but try to keep it in whatever Yasha’s sense of humor would be.” She notes some similarities to Grog. “She’s absolutely a teddy bear on the inside. She sees so much beauty in the world. I love playing those contradictions. She’s always had a sense of humor.”

How does Fjord define being a “good man” now as opposed to the start of the campaign? Initially, it was Vandren: “tough love, not overly emotional, not really available in that way, but conveyed a strong sense of leadership, knows what he wants, is focused, driven, stalwart, dependable, a lot of those bullshit male ideas. Some have value and some are just misplaced. If you try to live up to the idea of somebody else, you’re often going to find yourself going down a path that doesn’t look very familiar. Fuck it, I’m going to be me and see what that is. He’s got the agency. Maybe you just try and be you and hope that’s a good man.”

#critical role #critical role spoilers #talks machina #talks machina spoilers #long text post

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iatethepomegranate · 3 years

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We are not alone in the dark with our demons: Chapter 9

A fic in which Caleb buys a house with Rexxentrum with Beau and Yasha, becomes a professor, learns to be a person, and fights to protect others from what happened to him.

Content warnings: Caleb's backstory, implied abuse, medical trauma

Chapter summary: The morning comes, and there are two boys who need Caleb's help.

Chaper notes: My writing is slowing a bit, and work is starting to pick up. Updates will probably be slower from now on. Chapter title is from Woodwork by Sleeping At Last

****

Chapter 9: The world reappears and it breaks us new

The morning was slow. Essek read as Caleb lay in bed for a while, taking stock of the aches in his body and the cracks in his psyche. Caduceus had healed most of his injuries, leaving him mostly with minor aches and pains that were no different than he had experienced on the road. And the help from Caduceus and Essek last night had meant he had been able to sleep. Not as much as he needed, really, but enough that he wasn’t going to burst into tears if someone looked at him funny.

He was as okay as he was going to be. He soaked in the last few moments of warmth in bed, and Essek’s hand scratching his scalp like he would a cat, before heaving himself up and getting ready for the day ahead. This one would be difficult, too.

They ate breakfast together on the floor of Nico’s room, conversing quietly. Caduceus had served grilled tomatoes with poached eggs, toast and fried mushrooms in a generous sauce of butter, mixed herbs Caleb couldn’t place, and a ton of garlic. Food was more appealing this morning, and Caleb was famished. He also had a headache, probably from dehydration, so Caduceus had brought him a huge glass of water.

“Caddy, you could be a professional cook,” Beauregard said through a mouthful of food.

“Swallow your food before talking,” Caduceus said, ignoring her comment aside from a small smirk.

She swallowed. “Whatever, man.”

Essek was eating carefully, like he was afraid to spill anything on the floor. “Do we know when your old friends are arriving, Caleb?”

“They didn’t give us an exact time,” said Beauregard. “So who the fuck knows?”

“No later than eleven,” said Caleb. “Possibly by ten. They said they would be here in the morning.”

“I mean, 11:59 is still technically morning.”

“Not for Volstrucker.”

Caleb watched the others as their shoulders tightened, jaws clenched, eyes burned with fury at the implications they read in Caleb’s soft tone. Before they collectively breathed out and went back to eating. It was an odd mix of comfort and sadness to see how strongly they were affected by what he, and by extension the Volstrucker, had been through. He felt okay enough in this moment that it didn’t break him.

Essek laid a hand on his knee. Silent comfort. And he was okay enough that that didn’t break him, either. Even as tired as he was.

He helped Caduceus wash the dishes afterwards, needing to do something with his hands while they waited. As they stacked the dried dishes and put them away, Caduceus spoke for the first time since they had begun.

“You look better.” Caduceus kept his voice neutral, as if making a casual observation. Caleb was grateful for that.

“I feel better. Thank you for last night.”

“Oh, psh.”

That was the extent of their discussion on the matter. Wulf and Astrid arrived shortly thereafter, moving stiffly with poorly-concealed pain. Caleb met them at the door. Astrid headed straight upstairs with barely a word, but Wulf lingered in the centre of the living room.

He watched Astrid’s departure with a tense quirk to the corner of his mouth. “So, we all agree yesterday was fucked up, right?”

“I am the last person to disagree, Wulf.”

His eyes slid to Caleb’s; his face was stern as it often was, but there was pain in his eyes that he probably wasn’t displaying by choice. “You all right?”

“As all right as I can be, I suppose.” It was true now; it hadn’t been last night. “You?”

“Hm.” His mouth twitched. Looked away. “Not my favourite memory to revisit.”

In the moment, there had been no time for hesitation. Caleb had needed to give directions and get shit done. And he had known Wulf was the best option to handle Nico in whatever state they found him in.

“I’m sorry,” Caleb said. “You had the best chance with him.”

“I know.” Wulf exhaled through his nose, rubbing his wrists and hands as all of them often did to work out the kinks of repeated spellwork. The three of them used to do it for each other. Now Caleb and Essek sometimes did. He wondered if Wulf and Astrid still did it. “For better or worse, I have experience.” He swallowed. “There were no good options. Didn’t like to watch you run into a burning building, either, but…” He looked away.

Caleb wasn’t sure what to say. They were still awkward with each other. It wasn’t that long ago that Wulf had quite literally stabbed him. And now Wulf had just spoken more to Caleb than he had in a very long time. He was still rubbing his hands, looking everywhere but Caleb, and the whole thing was extremely uncomfortable.

Caleb had been uncomfortable a lot in social situations, especially in the last year. He could take it. And he could easily either wait Wulf out or bait him into speaking whatever else was on his mind.

“Wulf.” Caleb found the right tone, the one he had once used to break Wulf down when he was having a bad day and wasn’t talking about it.

Wulf closed his eyes, his grimace becoming an irritated half-smile. “What?”

Caleb waited. Wulf looked at him, annoyed. Caleb smiled at him. Wulf looked away, swearing under his breath.

“Wulf,” Caleb said slowly, “what’s the matter?”

He crossed his arms (great forearms as always), shoulders hunched a little. And when he spoke, it was almost too quiet for Caleb to hear. “Can I have a hug?”

“Ja, of course.” Caleb would be lying if he said he’d expected that, but he certainly wasn’t going to turn Wulf down. They were both going through a lot right now, and despite the light stabbing, Caleb did still care a great deal for him.

Wulf didn’t move. Caleb waited a moment longer, until it was clear Wulf was not going to initiate. So he stepped forward and put his hands on Wulf’s shoulders until he looked at him.

“All right,” Caleb said. “Come here.” He slid his arms around him, and Wulf stepped forward, tentatively holding onto his waist. Wulf relaxed into the hug, folding downwards until his forehead met Caleb’s shoulder.

He breathed, and shuddered a little. Caleb held him tighter, and could feel the barest tremors surging through Wulf’s body. His hands spasmed on Caleb’s back.

When they finally separated, Wulf cleared his throat, straightened his coat and said, “Not one word. To anyone.”

“Don’t worry,” Caleb said wryly, “your reputation is safe.”

Wulf raised his eyebrow; it was attractive. “Cute.”

“Some things haven’t changed.”

The moment was taut, like stretched twine. Wulf chuckled. “Some things have.”

“Oh?”

There was a soft laugh from the stairs; Astrid had evidently doubled back. “Careful, Wulf. His drow boyfriend is upstairs.”

The tension snapped; Wulf stepped back, the ghost of laughter still on his lips. “Yeah, I don’t know how you seduced the Shadowhand of all people, but you were always really fucking charismatic.”

Caleb looked towards the stairs, past Astrid. “It was more complicated than that, but… here we are.” They had wasted enough time. “Let’s do this.”

The others were already assembled in Nico’s room, Caduceus carefully portioning out the correct amount of diamond dust. Essek was posted up in the corner by the door, while Beau and Yasha filled the space closer to the bed. Caleb positioned himself on the other side of the door from Essek. Wulf moved in to fill a gap near Beauregard, and Astrid moved closer to Caduceus. Nico knew her best, as far as Caleb could tell. It was a good spot to be.

Caduceus looked to Caleb. “Anything we should be prepared for?”

“Hard to say,” Caleb replied, reluctantly digging into his fragmented memories of his time like this. “He will be disoriented. Likely afraid. Have we taken all his spell components?”

“Everything we could find,” Beauregard replied. He did not like the uncertainty in her tone.

“Those of us who can counterspell should prepare,” said Caleb. “Just in case. Muscle, be ready to grab him. He might not…” He sighed. “My situation was different. I knew where I was. I knew I was in danger. He may be more confused than I was.” Caleb had been confused and disoriented, but the fear of recognising that he was in a room at the sanatorium had overridden all of that. Adrenaline had pushed him towards survival. He had no idea how Nico would react. But in an unfamiliar place, with mostly unfamiliar people, realising the memories that drove him to murder his parents were false?

It was going to be ugly.

“One moment,” said Essek. He pulled out a pearl and pressed it to Caleb’s forehead, casting Fortune’s Favour. He did the same for everyone except Caduceus and himself. He could, in theory, have cast it using a higher level slot to catch more people at once and save his pearls, but it would come at the cost of losing more powerful spells he may need later. Caleb had a stash of pearls in his study, and was already plotting to make Essek accept them. Then Essek situated himself at the door once again.

“Do you have Counterspell?” Caleb asked him, having never seen Essek cast it.

“I picked it up recently.”

“Good.” Caleb took a deep breath. “Ready, Caduceus?”

“Ready.” Caduceus began to cast, reaching out to touch Nico’s forehead. He closed his eyes, brow furrowed, and Caleb was concerned what effect this may have on him. Then there was a bright light and the diamond dust vanished from his hand. Caduceus pulled back.

All eyes on Nico. The boy squeezed his eyes shut, groaning. Then he sat up, eyes darting around the room, pausing on Astrid for a second, and Wulf. And then a gasp. His hands were moving.

Caleb counterspelled. It didn’t take. He burned his mote. It didn’t take. There was a split second where his mind slowed time and he watched every other caster try to unravel Nico’s spell. And fail.

A huge roar. A burst of light and heat. Caleb’s head cracked against something solid and his vision went dark.

Then hands were on him, and he was awake. Caduceus pulled him to his feet, and rushed over to Essek, who was curled up in pain but conscious, casting Ray of Frost at flames licking the walls.

The others had already made it to their feet. Nico was nowhere to be found.

Astrid shook her head like a dog shaking off water. “We need to move.”

“We’ll stay here and handle the fire,” Caduceus said, helping Essek to his feet.

The rest of them were out the door in seconds, Beau and Yasha in the lead because they were fast as fuck. They spilled out into the street.

“Bren,” said Astrid, “thoughts?”

“Check all routes out of the city. I’ll message the Cobalt Soul. You message any Volstrucker who may help.”

“We’ll link up with the monks,” said Beauregard, grabbing Yasha’s hand and rushing south towards the Court of Colours.

Caleb had an idea. “Wulf, would you like to be a giant eagle?”

“Do it.”

Caleb grabbed his cocoon and cast. Wulf’s form shifted into a huge eagle, and he took to the air, almost buffeting Caleb off his feet.

Astrid tugged Caleb northward. “I suspect he knows the northern areas better.”

“Right.” Caleb pulled out his copper wire. “High Curator, Nicolaus has been restored, but he fled. Beauregard is on her way to ask your aid.”

“We will mobilise the monks. Thank you for the warning.”

Astrid had shot a quick message to one of the Volstrucker. Caleb spotted a Crownsguard on the nearest street corner.

“Excuse me!”

The guard took them in, taking special note of Astrid. “Uh, yes? How can I help?”

“Have you seen a young man with dark hair, no coat or shoes, come through this area?”

“I don’t believe so, no.”

“If you do,” said Astrid, “do not engage.”

“Is he a threat, Archmage?”

“He is a frightened young man,” said Caleb. “He is not a threat if he is not threatened.”

“Get the word out,” said Astrid. “If I hear he has been harmed, there will be consequences.”

Caleb pointed to the giant eagle overhead. “Oh, and he’s with us.”

Then Caleb and Astrid ran further north, towards the market. Caleb was already doubting himself; maybe looping in the Crownsguard had been a mistake. And Caleb had used his one concentration spell to turn Wulf into an eagle, so there was precious little he could do magically from here.

“Caleb,” came Essek’s voice. “Caduceus communed with his god. The boy has a spellcasting focus. He is moving north. That is all we know. Good luck.”

“Thank you. Stay safe.” Caleb looked to Astrid. “Nico has a spellcasting focus and is moving north.” He then passed the information to Beauregard with another Sending. And one to Wulf; he recalled somewhat understanding Common while in giant eagle form himself. Astrid Sent to her Volstrucker contact.

“The Volstrucker are mobilising to reach the gates,” she told him.

“What are Nico’s favourite spells?” Without his spellbook, the boy would be limited in his casting. “Aside from Fireball.”

“Mostly Evocation spells,” said Astrid. They were reaching a crowd at the market, which was going to be a problem. She grabbed Caleb’s hand, pulling him along, both their heads on a swivel. “He’s a firebug like you.”

“Any illusions we should worry about?”

“Disguise Self, most likely. I don’t know if he had it prepared.”

“I guess we will have to watch for body language as well.” This was a fucking mess. All this preparation, and they’d managed to lose the boy anyway. If he had managed to disguise himself, it would have been a simple task to move through the market unnoticed.

“Caduceus is attempting to scry,” said Essek. “I will update you.”

“Danke schön. We are in the market. Volstrucker are moving ahead. He may have disguised himself.”

The market was just walls of sound and people and distraction everywhere. If Nico were were, they weren’t going to find him. So they pushed ahead onto the other side, catching their breath.

“I’m starting to think this is a fool’s errand,” Astrid muttered, pressing a palm to her ribs.

“Are you hurt?”

“No more than you.”

There wasn’t time to argue the matter. “Do you have Invisibility prepared today? Or Fly? I have to keep Wulf in the air.”

“I have Trent’s boots today. I can turn you invisible, or help you Fly.”

“Flight may be best. We do not want to lose track of each other.”

Astrid cast the spell and activated her boots, sending them both into the air. They soared to the nearest rooftop and landed, watching the market with a better vantage point.

“We should move ahead,” said Caleb. “If he’s still here, we won’t see him in the market.” They flew further north, dimly aware that children were pointing at them. So much for keeping this quiet; Ludinus would no doubt hear about this. And be a pain in the ass.

They paused on another rooftop; the northeastern gates were visible from here. Caleb’s heart sank further with each passing second.

“The scry went through but he cannot see much. The boy is disguised; a half-elf girl with red hair and freckles. Dressed as a barmaid.” Essek cast the spell again. “Not much detail around him. There are stones, but also dirt. He’s running now.”

“He may be outside the city. Thank you.” Caleb pushed off the roof, trusting Astrid to follow. He Sent to Beauregard. “Caduceus scried. Nico’s disguised as a red-haired half-elf barmaid. I think he’s outside the city. He’s running.”

Beauregard’s response began with a drawn-grown. “Motherfucker. We’ll head out the southeast gate and curve north.”

Astrid had also Sent to her Volstrucker contact. They flew for as long as the spell lasted, touching down close to the city gates. The Righteous Brand soldiers guarding the gate watched them curiously as they ran past, but made no move to stop them. Astrid’s authority was saving them a lot of grief today.

They searched the road, the fields. But it became more and more evident that Nico had evaded them. Eadwulf touched down beside them as the spell ended and he was human again. Caleb leaned against a fencepost, willing himself not to crack.

“We should regroup,” said Astrid. “Your place, Bren?”

He nodded. Took a deep breath. Started walking. He Sent one last message to Beauregard. She and Yasha linked up with them near the gate. They walked back to the house together.

****

Caleb was used to feeling like a failure. But this one hurt more than most. The group sat in Beau and Yasha’s living room, drinking tea Caduceus had made.

“Caleb, you’ve got the most experience here,” said Beauregard. “What’s the kid thinking?”

The answer was simple. “Get out.”

“Where would you have gone?”

“The nearest woods,” said Caleb. “For me, that was the Pearlbow Wilderness. He may try to head there. Lots of cover, places to hide, few people.”

“I can scry on him again,” said Caduceus.

“Go ahead.”

Caduceus set his teacup aside and closed his eyes, concentrating. It would take a few minutes.

“I will have the Volstrucker search the area,” said Astrid. “If the scry works, we will have an easier time.”

“I’ll see if we can spare a few monks to back you up,” replied Beauregard.

“He won’t go near Vergesson,” said Wulf.

“No,” Caleb agreed. The thought of the boy coming anywhere near that place made him physically ill. “He will lay low for a bit, and then probably go looking for a small town on the edge of civilization. Somewhere no one would expect to find a wizard. He has fire for warmth, evidently, but food and water will be an issue.”

“Think he could survive in the woods?” asked Beauregard.

“Probably.” Caleb had.

“We’ll find him,” Essek said quietly. He was not a man given to empty platitudes.

“I hope so.”

The energy in the room was almost depleted. The group sat there, deflated, while Caduceus worked through his ritual. At the point, by Caleb’s count, that the spell should have connected, Caduceus jolted and opened his eyes. He shook his head.

“He resisted. I can try again tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Caleb hadn’t meant to speak. It was… this hurt. A lot.

Caduceus scanned the group. “Who needs healing?”

Everyone, really. Astrid and Wulf grudgingly accepted the assistance, and were unable to hide how much they visibly relaxed in relief.

“Bren, meet me in my office,” said Astrid. “I will mobilise the Volstrucker in the meantime.”

“I’ll talk to the monks,” said Beauregard.

****

Caleb took a few minutes to himself before walking to the Academy. Just a moment to sit in his study, count and sort the various inkwells he now owned, and breathe. The others let him have that time.

Then, he headed out with a purpose. Astrid was already settled behind her desk when he arrived.

“The Volstrucker are organising for a search pattern,” she said, waving at him to sit at a seat in front of the desk. She had switched to Zemnian the instant they were alone. “It’s out of our hands at this point. We have another matter to discuss.”

“Felix.” Caleb sighed, and almost felt like was going to collapse the floor with the force of it. At least the chair caught him. “He needs to go home. And we need to tell him the whole story of what happened with Nico. I can teach him Sending. If Felix is up to it, a familiar voice might help.”

“I agree,” said Astrid. “We also have to explain the situation to Felix’s parents. That will be challenging.”

Caleb tried to imagine how his own parents would have reacted if they had learned their own son was ordered to kill them, and intended to do it. He was not strong enough to follow through on that thought experiment. Not today. Maybe not ever.

“We need to put him back in school when he’s ready,” Caleb said. “He will stew in this if we let him.”

“If you would like to convince his parents, be my guest.”

“That may be a conversation for another day. How much does Felix know about what happened with Nico?”

“That Nico followed through on the order, but we are taking care of him.”

“And now we have to tell him we fucked up. Again.”

Astrid laced her fingers together and rested her chin on them. “No. We prepared best we could. He was searched as much as your friends could without invading his privacy. We were ready with counterspells. But fear is a powerful motivator. You know that.”

Caleb had rolled out of bed and overpowered one of Ikithon’s guards. An important one, given he had an amulet. And, of course, Essek had once dragged him from under a tower with his bare hands. People could stretch themselves past their usual limits if under enough duress. Trent had operated under that philosophy.

“Bren,” Astrid said, quiet but firm. “I know this is a lot, but I need you to hold it together.”

Caleb breathed, and steadied himself. “I can do that.”

“I know.” She reclined in her seat, casting around her copper wire. “Felix, do you mind if Bren and I pay you a visit? We have news.” She listened. “All right. Let’s go.”

They walked the familiar path to the dormitories. Caleb had been so proud to walk these halls once. Maybe he could be again, but it would never be the same.

They found Felix in his temporary room, seated at a wooden desk with his spellbook, glaring at the pages. He tore his eyes away as they entered, slamming it shut.

“How’s Nico?”

Astrid looked at Caleb for three seconds. “Felix, do you remember what Trent told you about Bren?”

“He said a lot of things,” Felix said warily.

“Nicolaus and I had similar responses to following Trent’s orders,” said Caleb. “We took him to my house to keep him away from the Assembly and let him rest overnight. This morning, my friend Caduceus restored him.”

“He fled, despite our best efforts,” said Astrid. “We have people out searching for him.”

Felix still had his hand on his textbook, slowly sliding downward as his grip slackened. “I don’t understand. What happened?”

“When Nicolaus killed his parents, he had a… break.” Caleb was not good at explaining this. “He was awake, but unresponsive. Caduceus had a spell to pull him out of it, but coming back from that is disorienting. Despite the steps we took to prepare, he hit us with a fireball and escaped while we recovered.” Gods, Nico was probably injured, and without a healer.

Felix burst from seat. “And? Did you go after him?”

“Yes, of course,” said Astrid. “We searched from the ground and the air. And we have leads, and people are still following them. I have mobilised the Volstrucker and Bren’s expositor friend has mobilised the Cobalt Soul. We are not easy people to find when we do not want to be found, but we will keep searching. Bren had an idea, if you would like to help.”

Felix looked at her like she had slapped him. “Of course I want to help!”

Caleb paid his agitation no mind. “We floated the idea of teaching you the Sending spell yesterday. We did not have time then, but we have it now. Then, you can talk to him.”

“Okay. Teach me.”

“Here? Or would you rather we bring you home first?”

Felix laughed, and it was more unhinged than Caleb would have liked. “Yeah, okay, take me back to the people I almost fucking murdered.”

Astrid crossed her arms, gazing sternly up at him. “Felix.”

“It’s all right, Astrid,” said Caleb. “This will take a few hours. Let’s make use of those Academy resources, ja?” Most dormitory rooms had a supply of paper and ink, enough to transcribe a few spells at a time. He found a stash in the desk and sat on the floor, laying it all out in front of him. He beckoned to Felix. “Shall we?”

Felix scrubbed at his eyes and sat down with Caleb, slamming his spellbook onto the wooden boards. Astrid retreated, with some excuse about keeping an eye out for the Martinet, and a promise she would get the kitchen staff to send them a snack.

Caleb had lost a lot of his confidence around people a long time ago, but he knew pain when he saw it. He knew a little something about pain.

And a little something about hurt wizards looking desperately for a distraction by throwing themselves into study.

#caleb widogast #professor widogast #shadowgast #astrid beck #eadwulf grieve #critical role #cr2 #fanfiction #my fics #the pomegranate's professor widogast fic

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minister-for-femslash · 4 years

Text

The Lovers

Summary: After a close call, Beau and Yasha are forced to confront their feelings and have a long overdue conversation.

Pairing: Beau/Yasha

Word Count: 7,061

Warnings: Character death (temporary)

Yasha goes down first.

Two guards are on her, flanking her and as she deflects the first blow with the Magician's Judge, the second is thrust deep in her back.

Beau hears them laugh and turns just in time to see Yasha fall. She knocks back the guard she's been fighting with a quick kick to the chest and charges over. She swings her staff, high and wide, and cracks the guy that stabbed Yasha in the back of the head. He drops dead instantly. The other is already bringing his sword down to finish Yasha off and Beau almost doesn't get her staff up in time to deflect the blow.

She stands over Yasha. Positions herself defensively. Protecting her.

It's awkward.

Yasha's arms are splayed out. Beau can't quite get in the right place to take Patient Defence. The guard flies towards her, swinging his sword. The blade carves through her flesh. She takes more blows than she's expecting. Blood pours down her arms. It streaks across her fingers and her grip on her staff becomes slippy.

She's losing and Beau knows it. But that's okay. She just needs to hold him at bay. She just needs to protect Yasha long enough for Jester or Caduceus to deal with their own problems and throw out a quick healing spell. She can do that.

And then it all goes wrong.

The guard aims for her chest and Beau instinctively steps back. Her foot lands on the hilt of the Magician's Judge. She stumbles. It's all the opening the guard needs.

His blade slices through her throat.

Beau hears someone scream. She thinks it might be Jester and when a brightly coloured lollipop slams into the side of the guard's head, knocking him out, she's certain.

Beau's hands clamp down on her neck. Blood pours out. It's spills through her fingers, down her arms and seeps into her robes. She tries to speak, but nothing comes out but a gurgle and Beau knows, she just broke Dairon's cardinal rule; stay alive.

Her vision blurs and her knees buckles. She collapses down, landing on something soft instead of the cold, hard ground. Yasha. It's the last thought she has before the world fades to black.

-----

The ground feels wet beneath her cheek. There's music, it echoes around her; happy and bright, a song of invitation. Her eyes open and she sees grass, bright and green, and multiple pairs of feet moving past her.

Beau rolls onto her back. There's no pain, not in her chest and not in her throat, but she checks anyway. The wounds are gone, and so is the blood, her robes are now somehow pristine, like the day she first got them, there's no sign of sweat or dirt.

She sits up and checks the rest of her, and is surprised to find she's fine, better than fine in fact, not only have her wounds gone but so have her scars, some of them years, even decades old, including the one on her chest, the one that...

Yasha...

It hits her like a punch to the gut, the memory of the sword ripping through Yasha, and Beau quickly vaults to her feet. She spins round, desperately searching, but there's no sign of Yasha. No sign of Jester, or Caleb, or any of the others. She's not in the castle any more, she not in Rosohna any more. The sun is high, it shines bright and Beau can feel the heat on her skin. The sky is the brightest of blues and there are trees, tall with thick branches and bright green leaves.

In the distance is a large blue circus tent, with a little flag on top that seems to shimmer with a a type of ethereal glow.

More people move past her. They're happy, with large, and in Beau's opinion creepy – too much teeth – smiles on their faces. Some of them are running, one or two are even skipping their way towards the tent which suddenly looks eerily familiar, almost like Beau has seen it before.

The music gets louder and it's gentle harmony washes over her, wraps around her like a soft warm blanket and beckons her forward.

Beau walks towards the tent.

“I wouldn't go in there if I were you.”

The voice causes Beau to stop dead. A sharp chill runs through her and goosebumps rise on the back of her neck.

“Apparently they have a toad man who turns people into zombies.”

And now Beau remembers where she's seen that tent before. Trostenwald. The circus.

She turns and standing just a few feet behind her is a familiar purple tiefling. His red eyes shine bright, and the jewels and diamonds that adorn his horns and his fingers sparkle under the sunlight. He's missing his cloak and his swords, but his smile is exactly as she remembers it, large and just a little bit cocky.

“Hey Molly.”

“Hey.” A deck of tarot cards suddenly appears in his hand and he spins them nimbly between his fingers. “Fancy a reading?”

Beau frowns. “No thanks. You know I hate that crap.”

“You sure? It's an afterlife special, any question answered with complete and total honesty.”

“Afterlife? So I'm dead then?”

“Yeah, but you already knew that, and I don't think it's going to stick.” With a flick of his wrist a card jumps out of the deck and Molly catches it between his teeth.

Beau gives him a slow, sarcastic clap, Molly bows anyway and then holds the card out for her. Beau takes it with more than a little reluctance.

The background is bright yellow, a young man with blonde hair and a stick slung over his shoulder stands on a rocky shore as a wave crashes behind him. His hand is stretched out and in his palm rests a single white rose.

“I don't get it.”

“That's because you're not looking close enough.”

Beau sighs and brings the card closer. The image shimmers and changes, the blonde man transforming into a blue tiefling in a pretty yellow dress, the stick turning into a large serrated lollipop and the white rose becoming a diamond that Beau is certain is worth at least three hundred gold. The words at the bottom of the card read 'The Jester.'

“Revivification?”

“Told ya', it isn't going to last, so take your chance while you have.” Molly fans out the cards in front of her. “What do you want to know? Ask me anything?”

“Is Yasha okay?”

Molly hums, he clicks his fingers and another card jumps out of the desk. This one hangs in the air between them, slowly rotating. Beau can see that it's blank and she frowns. Molly, however, stares at it intently and with a click of his fingers the card sparks, flames shoot out, consuming it, devouring it and leaving behind nothing but ash and smoke that rises up towards the sky.

“Yasha is Yasha. But she's alive, I'll take that,” Molly says.

“Yeah, me too.”

“You did good, protecting her the way that you did. I'm proud of you.”

“Thanks. I just wish I could've done the same for you.”

“Oh that's... That's -” he gives a dismissive wave of his hand - “water under. It wasn't your fault.”

“You sure about that. 'Cause I was right fucking there and I couldn't do anything. I should've been faster or smarter or something. You shouldn't be dead.”

“Ah, but death is never the end. It's just the beginning of a different journey.”

Beau rolls her eyes. “Come on, are you really trying to sell me that bullshit cliché?”

“It might be a bullshit cliché, but it also happens to be the truth, which is nice for me.”

“So you're good?” Beau asks.

“As much as anybody can be, yes.”

Beau feels the overwhelming urge to hug him and so she does. Molly squeezes her tight, lifts her off her feet.

“I miss you,” Beau whispers.

“Of course you do. Who wouldn't?”

There's a loud crack and a roll of thunder, the sun fades and the sky turns grey. Lightening streaks across the sky. It hits the tent and it quickly bursts into flames.

“I think that's your exit,” Molly says.

Beau's body becomes heavy, her legs begin to shake as she struggles to stay on her feet. She looks at the cards in his hands and presses her lips together. She's tempted, incredibly tempted. She reaches for Molly and grabs his hand, and for a moment he's the only thing holding her up.

“Will I see you again?”

“I can practically guarantee it, just not anytime soon, I hope.”

“What if I don't want to go back?”

“Don't be ridiculous. She's waiting for you. Here. Take this -” he presses something into the palm of her hand - “she won't be able to tell you, so you'll have to tell her. Bye Beau.”

“Bye Molly.”

He lets go of the her hand and Beau drops. She closes her eyes as she hits the ground and then just falls right through. Falls, and falls, and falls.

-----

Beau gasps.

The air floods back into her lungs. Her heart suddenly kick starts, once again pounding in her chest, and a warmth slowly spreads through her.

Something is wrapped around her; large, muscular arms that seem to cradle her.

“Beau, Beau!” Jester's voice is high, panicked. “Be okay, Beau. Please. Please be okay.”

A hand grasps Beau's own and squeezes it tight, and she slowly opens her eyes. Her vision is blurry and she has to blink, once and then twice before it begins to clear. Jester leans over her, her face so close that Beau has to pull back. Jester's eyes are wide and Beau thinks she can see tear stains on her cheeks.

“Beau!”

“Hey.”

“You're alive again.” Jester throws herself forward and hugs Beau's waist.

“We were worried there for a minute, I thought I was going to have to find a new first mate,” Fjord says.

The Mighty Nein are crowded around her, each with their own look of concern.

“I'm okay, I'm good.” Beau tries to lift herself up and the world immediately starts to spin.

“I got you,” Yasha whispers in her ear.

Beau feels Yasha's arms tighten just slightly and she's pulled back down, being cradled once again, and Beau doesn't hate it. Her heart beat quickens, for just a second, there's this flutter. Yasha's grip is comfortingly strong. “We should go.” Yasha stands up and Beau is gently lifted into the air.

It's not the most ideal situation, but being carried by Yasha is definitely a good way to travel, so Beau doesn't complain and just rests her head against Yasha's chest. She's tired, exhausted even and her eyes close. When she opens them again, the first thing she sees is their tree with it's vibrant green leaves, perched on top of their roof. Yasha has carried her all the way back to the Xhorhouse and she missed it.

Veth rushes ahead and opens the door so that Yasha can carry her across the threshold, and then lay her down on the small sofa in living room, her feet hanging off the side. Jester quickly grabs a cushion and places it behind her head, before she sits on the floor next to her, her tail swishing from side to side.

“I was so worried, Beau,” she says. “You didn't come back right away, like Veth and Caduceus did. I thought it didn't work.”

“Yeah, sorry, I was...” Beau stops. She thinks of Molly, of his smile and of the card that he thrust into her hand. There's no card in her hand now, and then she looks at Yasha, who has disappeared into the kitchen and is currently pouring water into a bowl, and decides that there's no need to mention Molly. “Just being stubborn, I guess.”

Jester laughs. “Well, I'm glad you're back.”

“Me too.”

Yasha comes back with the bowl of water and a cloth. She sits on the sofa, right next to Beau's hip and as she dips the cloth into the water Beau pulls back slightly and tries to sit up because letting Yasha carry her back is one thing, but this, this is making her feel babied, like she's a burden.

“I'm fine.”

“You're hurt,” Yasha says.

“No really, I'm good.” Her hand instinctively goes to her neck. The wound is gone, completely but her robes and her skin are covered in dry blood. The slashes on her arms and chest are still there.

“Please,” Yasha says. “Just let me help you.”

Beau softens a little.

“I can cast cure wounds, but I'd need to sleep first,” Jester tells her.

“No it's... It's okay, I'll cooperate.” Beau slowly removes her robe. Her wounds throb and pulse with pain, and she grimaces as she throws it over the side of the sofa, where it's quickly scooped up by Caduceus and she's left in just her tank top.

Yasha gently pushes it up and her fingers brush against Beau's waist. Beau's mouth goes dry as Yasha's hands move across her stomach, her fingers almost dancing around the wounds.

“Am I hurting you?” Yasha asks.

“No, you erm -” Beau clears her throat - “you have a very soft touch.” It's so cheesy and Beau regrets the words the moment she says them.

Yasha laughs. “Good to know.”

And now Beau doesn't feel so bad.

“Hey, Jester,” Fjord says. “Do you want to come and give me a hand with this?”

“Okay, sure.” After another quick glance at Beau, Jester jumps to her feet and follows Fjord upstairs.

Yasha waits until it's just the two of them before she takes the cloth and presses it against Beau's skin. There's a flash of pain and Beau's body tenses, her stomach muscles twitching, and Yasha freezes.

“Sorry,” she says.

“It's okay.”

Yasha moves slower this time. She deals with the wounds first; taking so much time and so much care that Beau barely feels the damp cloth moving across her skin. Yasha's eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, her tongue poking out from between her lips. She looks so intense, so beautiful that Beau can't help but watch her.

With the wounds cleaned as best they can be, Yasha moves on to wiping the blood from Beau's neck and chest, the water in the bowl slowly turning a deep, dark red. Yasha's hand rests on Beau's hip, her grip tightening slightly as she concentrates.

When Yasha is finished she drops the cloth into the bowl and places it on the floor. She doesn't move back and she doesn't remove her hand, instead she looks up and Beau is caught off guard by the intensity of her gaze.

“Thank you, for what you did,” Yasha says.

“No p...”

“But please, don't do that again. I don't think I could stand losing you. I definitely couldn't stand being the reason you're gone.

“Yasha....”

“Promise me.”

“I can't promise I won't die.”

“Then promise you won't die for me.”

Yasha stares up at her and Beau can see tears forming in her eyes, it makes her want to promise, to say yes to everything and anything that Yasha wants, but she can't. She can't because she knows that it's a promise she won't be able to keep, if Yasha's in trouble she'll jump into the fray without a thought, she knows that now.

So she doesn't promise, instead she places her hand on Yasha's cheek. Beau leans forward, making her intentions clear and that's when Yaha finally pulls back.

“I should let you rest,” Yasha says.

“Right, yeah, okay.” Beau watches as Yasha practically rushes from the room before she throws herself back against the sofa.

'Fuck.'

She stays on the sofa for a few minutes, her cheeks burning with embarrassment before she decides to head upstairs and at least try to get some sleep.

Jester is already in their room, perched on the edge of her bed, drawing in her journal. “Hey Beau, are you okay?”

“Yeah fine, I'm just tired.” Beau flops down onto her bed and immediately closes her eyes.

“Shouldn't you be downstairs with Yasha?” There's a wet smacking sound and when Beau opens her eyes she sees Jester puckering her lips in an over exaggerated kissing motion.

“Yeah. I don't think that's going to happen.”

“Why not? She likes you, I can tell.”

“Well, she clearly doesn't like me enough. I think I'm going to get some sleep.”

“Okay. I'm going to stay up and draw for a little while. Look.” Jester turns her journal around and she shows Beau the drawing. It's not finished, but Yasha's face is very clear, contorted in agony as she holds something not yet drawn. “It's you and Yasha.”

“Jester that's -” Beau takes a breath and smiles - “really good.”

“Thanks.”

Despite Beau's best efforts she doesn't get a lot of sleep that night, she just tosses and turns, and the sound of Jester's gentle humming, which most nights she finds relaxing, even comforting, is tonight just an obstacle to her sleep, and when the humming finally stops as Jester herself falls asleep, it's replaced by the incessant whistle of the wind outside.

When she does finally fall asleep she's plagued by a nightmare; Jester's drawing, in technicolour and surround sound. Yasha screaming, it's a horrifying sound, even in her dreams and when she wakes up, her ears still ringing with it and Beau knows that there's no way she can go back to sleep now, despite still feeling exhausted.

Beau takes a shower, allowing the hot water to wash away her last few aches and pain. She looks down at the scar on her chest. Beau has no memory of the sword being driven through her, but she can remember the guilt and the shame on Yasha's face afterwards, the way Yasha couldn't quite look at her when she cast healing hands.

'Maybe we missed our chance.'

When she gets back to her room, her robe has been laid out on her bed, cleaned and dried, and Beau makes a note to thank Caduceus next time she sees him. She's just pulled it on when she sees it, a small card resting on her pillow.

“What the fuck!?” Beau quickly picks it up.

It's a tarot card and she immediately feels a little queasy. The card is not new, the colours are slightly faded and there's a crease in the corner. The image isn't as dramatic as the one Jester drew, but it's the same moment in time; Yasha cradling Beau's blood soaked body. “Jester! Jessie!”

Beau heads downstairs.

She finds Yasha in the kitchen with Veth and Caleb, the three of them are cooking and it smells good, whatever it is, but Beau doesn't stay to find out. She doesn't even acknowledge them, she just keeps her head down, even as she can feel Yasha's eyes on her and heads outside.

Jester is in Caduceus' vegetable garden.

“Jessie, is this yours?” She shows Jester the card.

“Wow. That's really good, Beau. Where did you get it?”

“It was on my pillow. You didn't draw it.”

“No. But I like it.”

“Oh.”

Beau looks at the card again, that queasy feeling gets stronger, and something wedges in the back of her throat. The image has changed, it's black, with a moon in the background, and instead of her and Yasha, it's a young couple, a woman in a long flowing white robe being held by a man dressed in black. They're kissing.

“Right okay,” Beau mutters to herself. She runs her fingers across the card, smoothing it out and then gently places it into the pocket of her robe.

“Hey.” Yasha stands in the doorway. Her voice is quieter, sadder, if that's somehow possible. “Caleb's found something.”

A piece of parchment has been laid out on the kitchen table, it takes up the entire thing, the burnt edges hanging just over the side.

“It's blank,” Beau says.

“No. The information is merely hidden.” Caleb takes something mushy, almost liquid out of his pouch, he smears it across the parchment and then holds his hands above the table and recites a few arcane words that Beau doesn't understand. The parchment starts to glow, thin, gold lines snake across it, forming patterns, creating an image and in the middle, sits a little red cross. “It's a map.”

“Well, it's good to know I didn't die for nothing. That's nice.” Beau laughs and quickly looks around the table, but nobody joins her.

“A map to what?” Fjord asks.

“I don't know, but the Bright Queen sent us to that castle, so whatever it is it must be important to the Dynasty. I think we should go there.”

“And where is there exactly?” Fjord asks.

“You see here -” Caleb points to a portion of the map that looks like mountains, the red cross in the middle of them - “they could be the Penumbra Range, near Bazzoxan.”

Beau looks over at Yasha, who's head drops slightly. “Maybe we should -” Beau sighs - “give this to the Bright Queen and let her people handle it.”

“What?” Caleb looks at her, confused. “Whatever this is it's powerful enough for somebody to keep hidden. Maybe we can use it to bring down the Assembly.”

“We don't even know what it is.”

“Well, we will if we go there,” Jester says.

“I just don't think a maybe is worth the risk.” Again Beau looks at Yasha, who's gaze now seems permanently fixed on the floor.

This time the others notice her looking.

“Oh Yasha, I'm sorry. I didn't think!” Jester exclaims.

“It's fine. Caleb's right. We should go there, it might be important.”

“Are you sure?” Beau asks and Yasha finally looks over at her. “If it's too much...” They hold each other's gaze for a moment.

“I'll be fine,” Yasha says, but she doesn't sound sure.

-----

The travel to Bazzoxan is much easier this time. The moment Essek sees the map he immediately agrees to take them, something that Beau files away for later, he even knows exactly where in the Penumbra Range the red cross is and drops them right at the entrance to what is a perfectly formed tunnel with a stone door.

“Are you coming with us, Essek?” Jester asks.

“I'm not really a fighter, but good luck.” And just like that he's gone.

Beau walks towards the door and studies it. There's something carved into the stone, a small square that's split into four. She traces it with her fingers and it suddenly disappears. “Oh shit.”

There's a click and the door slowly opens.

Beau steps back.

“Hey, you got it open. Well done.” Fjord claps her on the back.

“Yeah, totally meant to do that.”

One by one they head into the tunnel. Fjord goes first, using the Star Razor to light their way and Beau is right behind him. The tunnel winds downwards, heading deep into the heart of the mountain. It's a trek, Beau doesn't have the same sense of time as Caleb, but she's certain that it's hours, and the further down they go, the thicker the air around them becomes.

It reminds Beau of the days they spent walking to Xhorhaus.

Yasha is at the back of the group and Beau can't help but glance over her shoulder, just to check on her. Her pace slows, she doesn't mean for it to happen but after a few minutes the rest of the Mighty Nein have passed her and she finds herself falling into step with Yasha.

“Hey, are you doing okay?” Beau asks.

“I think so.”

“Well, if you're not, you can just let us know and we'll leave.”

“Thank you, Beau.”

The two of them walk side by side as the tunnel continues to wind downwards and they stay close even when the tunnel opens out into a small room.

The ceiling is low, so low that Caduceus has to dip his head to get inside. The walls are made of stone, smooth and polished, this room hasn't been carved out by nature, this is man made, maybe even magically enforced. There's a small wooden door in the corner.

In the centre of the room is a skeleton, it's flopped on it's side, it's arm outstretched like it's trying to grasp at something. It looks like a Drow, but it's been here a while so it's hard to tell, the skin has become thick and leathery, stretched tight across the bones. There's no obvious sign of death, no wounds or marks.

Veth tries to search the pockets, for gold or something valuable, but the dark black robes fall apart immediately, almost disintegrating in her hands.

The rest of the Mighty Nein investigate the room, Caleb casts detect magic, Caduceus Eyes of Grave, Fjord even tries Detect Invisibility, all of them trying to find something about this room. They search for traps or secrets panels, but there's nothing. It's just a room.

The only thing Beau does find is a crack on one of the stones, it's small, so small she almost doesn't notice it. It might be natural, the type of wear and tear that comes over time but the rest of the walls are so pristine that it stands out. Beau studies it, runs her fingers over it.

“Beau, are you coming?” Jester asks.

“Oh yeah, sure.”

Veth checks the door for traps and when it comes back clean they step through one by one.

The next room is just as plain and empty as the last. There's only one difference, instead of a skeleton in the middle of the floor, there are tiles with symbols carved into the stone. They're in grid formation; nine across and five down. They seem familiar not quite runes but close.

“What are they?” Jester asks.

“I don't know. But I don't think we should touch them,” Caleb says.

Beau joins him and the two of them study the symbols for a few minutes, some of the images repeat, appearing twice, some even three times. But most only appear once. There's a pattern of some sort, Beau's sure of it, she just can't see it. Neither, apparently can Caleb because after a few minutes he drops to the floor and begins to ritually cast detect magic.

Beau steps back, she takes out her staff and grips it tight, and then, after a few minutes leans against it. She can feel Yasha's eyes on her, burning into her, and she tries not to look, but it's difficult because she wants to look. Needs to look. She lifts up her staff and begins to twirl it, tossing it from hand to hand just to have something to do.

In the end she steps away, just to get herself a little distance, a little breathing space. The door to the previous room is still open and she steps back through, going back to the small crack on the wall. She leans in close, pressing her face against the stone and peering through the crack. There's something there, something underneath the stone.

“Beau.”

The sound of her name causes her to jump just slightly and she spins around. It's Yasha. Of course it's Yasha. “You shouldn't go off on your own.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know, but you should stay with the rest of us. Please.” Yasha is so open, her fear and pain written all over her face and it's just too much for Beau.

She turns away and looks at the crack. “I found something.”

Yasha walks over and gets close enough to see what Beau is pointing at, but not too close. “It's a crack.”

“Yeah. There's something behind it.” Beau throws a punch and the stone crumbles to dust.

She's right, there is something behind it. It's another rune, but this one is split into four, just like on the door, and there's a symbol in each one, some of which Beau saw in the other room.

“What is it?” Yasha asks.

“I think...”

Suddenly the floor beneath their feet begins to shake and there's a loud click. Something shoots out of the wall, thick stone, just behind Yasha.

The skeleton is crushed, it's bones exploding into dust.

Yasha starts to move, she has time, she can easily dive through, but Beau sees her look back and she stops, allowing the stone wall to slam shut on her.

They're trapped.

Beau quickly grabs her staff and holds steady waiting for whatever comes next, and Yasha does the same, pulling out the Skingorger. They wait, and wait, and wait, but nothing comes. No big scary beast with poison tipped fangs, no secondary traps. Nothing.

“I don't think anything's coming,” Yasha finally says, slowly lowering her sword.

“Why does that not feel like a good thing?” Beau walks over to the wall that's trapped them in and pushes against it. It doesn't budge. She taps it with her fist, then kicks at it with her foot and finally a whack – not at full force – with her staff. It's solid. “Fuck! That's... Fuck!” She checks the edges for any gaps, somewhere that she can stick her staff, or one of Yasha's swords in to try and force the wall back open but it's shut tight.

“We're trapped,” Yasha says.

“We're trapped.” Beau sighs. She falls back against the wall and flops to the floor. “I got us trapped. Fucking...” She groans and clenches her fist.

'How to make yourself feel like shit with one stupid decision by Beauregard Lionett' she thinks. It's a feeling that she's more than a little familiar with so she should be use to it, able to cope with it, but the hot, angry tears fill her eyes anyway. She can feels Yasha staring and quickly covers her face with her hands. It takes a deep breath, then another, and another, just to get herself under control. “I wish Jester was here.” She sees the flash of hurt in Yasha's eyes. “No, I mean... Because Jester could send a message to the others.”

“Right,” Yasha says, but the hurt look hasn't gone.

“The two non-magic users getting trapped together, it's not good. I'm not going to speak for you but without something or someone to hit, I'm not much use.” She drops her staff on the floor.

Now the hurt look falls from Yasha's face, replaced with something akin to sympathy and Beau's not sure which one she hates more.

“That's not true. There are plenty of things you're good at. We'll figure this out.”

“Sure, yeah, of course.”

“Do we -” Yasha turns away from her - “need to talk?”

“About what?”

“Last night.” Yasha's voice is so quiet that Beau almost doesn't hear her.

“I'd really prefer it if we didn't.”

“Okay.”

They go quiet and Yasha paces, as much as she can in the small space. Beau watches her, tapping her staff rhythmically against the ground. A tension has settled between them, it hangs in the air, thick and heavy, and weighing down on them. Beau feels like she's going to choke on it.

“I hurt you,” Yasha finally says.

“What?”

“I hurt you.” Yasha turns to look at her. “I almost killed you.”

“That wasn't you.”

“But it was. Me. I can remember every moment I was under his control. I can remember the faces of every person I killed. I can remember every swing of the Skingorger, I can remember blood and screaming. But most of all I can remember you, on the cathedral floor with my sword in your chest.”

“Yasha.”

“There are moments that I look at you and I...” Yasha sighs. “And then I remember that scar on your chest. I put that there and I can't forgive myself for that. Can you understand?”

“No, I can't.” Again Beau can see the tears in Yasha's eyes. “But then I wasn't mind controlled by some fuck who made me kill a bunch of people, so...”

Yasha smiles, but it's a sad smile.

“I'm sorry,” Beau says. “But you could've talked to me, you know?”

“I tried. On the Balleater, when we were making those statues with Jester. I didn't seem like you really wanted to talk, so I -” Yasha shrugs her shoulders - “stopped.”

“Shit.” Beau remembers that conversation and she also remembers why she deflected the way that she did. “Fuck.”

“I guess you're still angry with me.”

“No. No, Yasha, that's not true.”

“Okay.”

Beau sighs, because she knows if she wants Yasha to talk then she has to be willing to talk as well, and that's something that she's not good at, she's been trying, ever since she met the Mighty Nein she's been trying and she's probably getting better, but her ability to stick her foot firmly in her mouth is still there and she doesn't want to do that, not with Yasha, and not right now.

“Okay, here we go.” Beau stands up. “Seeing my father again, I erm, I didn't handle it very well.”

“I think you handled it fine.”

“Thanks, but I was going to make that deal with the hag because I wasn't okay and then it didn't happen, thank you Jester, and being back on the Balleater, being Fjord's First Mate again, I felt a little more stable, like the ground was once again solid under my feet and I didn't want to talk about anything difficult, in case it got shaky again. Does that make sense?”

“It does.”

“But that was my shit and I shouldn't have put that on you. I'm not angry with you, Yasha, how could I be? I know it wasn't you. I had Obann in my head, it was only for a moment, but if it wasn't for my training I'd have done what he wanted. I know how powerful he was. I can't blame you for anything you did while under that fuck's mind control.”

“I blame me.”

“I know.”

Beau takes a few tentative steps forward, giving Yasha the chance to pull back if she wants, just like last night. But this time Yasha doesn't. Beau takes her hand and places it on her chest, right over her scar. “Made by you, yes, but healed by you, as well. You didn't choose to stab me, you did choose to make amends, so you may not forgive yourself, but I forgive you.”

“Beau.” Yasha's crying. The tears stream down her face.

Beau has said all that she can, there's only one thing left for her to do. She hugs Yasha. She squeezes her tight because she knows that she can and Yasha sobs into her shoulder.

Beau isn't sure how long they stand there, it's a long time, long after Yasha has stopped sobbing and long after what would be the time for them to both step away.

“Thank you, Beau.” Yasha mutters into her shoulder.

“No problem.”

Yasha pulls back, not completely, she keeps her arms wrapped around Beau's waist and now they're staring into each other's eyes. Beau can hear the sound of her own heart or maybe it's Yasha's, or maybe it's both of their's, the two of them beating in sync.

It's Yasha that leans in this time and this is their chance, Beau is almost certain of it.

“Beau! Yasha!” Jester's voice pierces through the room.

The two of them step apart just in time to see Jester's head poke through a newly created hole in the wall. “Hi. Did you guys get stuck in here?”” There's a paint brush in Jester's hand, she waves it as she talks.

“Ask them what happened,” Caleb says, his voice echoing from somewhere behind Jester.

“What happened!? Were you guys making out?”

-----

Caleb discerns that the sigil behind the stone is a cipher, which Beau already knows, but she chooses not to say anything because she's the reason her and Yasha got trapped and why bother drawing everybody's attention to that.

“You need the cipher to solve the puzzle, but if you find the cipher you become trapped,” Caleb says, as they head back towards the puzzle, and with the new information it only takes Caleb about fifteen minutes to solve it. He presses each of the symbols in an order that Beau, having seen the cipher, sort of understands and there's a loud creak.

The wall just behind the symbols shakes. A jagged crack shoots down from the ceiling, chunks of rock tumble to the ground and the wall slowly opens inwards.

A bright light shines out and inside is a Beacon.

They head back to Rosohna using Caleb's teleportation circle. They don't tell the Bright Queen about the Beacon, choosing to hide it in the Bag of Holding as they make their way back to the Xhorhouse. Beau isn't sure she agrees with the decision, but she understands why Caleb wants to talk to Essek about it first, having more information can never hurt so she doesn't really argue. She does however linger at the back, not really participating in the debate the other's are having, and when Yasha joins her, their hands brushing together with every step, Essek and the possibility that he's stolen another Beacon becomes something she just doesn't give a shit about.

Their half way home when Yasha shifts a little closer and very gently takes Beau's hand. Beau doesn't look over, but she does smile as their fingers interlock. If any of the other's notice – and Beau is sure she sees Jester turning back to look at them every few minutes – they don't say anything.

The debate continues back at the Xhorhouse, the group sitting in the kitchen and drinking the tea that Caduceus makes. Beau contributes a little, but she's distracted, Yasha let got of her hand the moment they stepped through the front door and now they're on different sides of the room, but neither of them seem able, or maybe just not willing to stop looking at each other.

When they finally go to bed, Beau catches Yasha's eye and she's sure she sees a little longing there before they both slip into their own rooms.

“Beau and Yasha trapped in a room!” Jester is sitting on the floor, at the edge of her bed, her tail swishing wildly. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” She sings.

“That doesn't rhyme,” Beau says.

“But it's true though, right? You guys were kissing.”

“No.”

“Beau! You have to kiss her.”

“We were interrupted.”

“Oh. I'm sorry.”

“It's fine.”

“You could go and kiss her now.”

“Now. Now, I'm going to sleep.”

Jester huffs and quickly climbs into bed.

Beau climbs into her own and tries to get comfortable, but it's difficult, something rough rubs against her leg. She pulls back the sheet and sees a tarot card resting on the mattress. She recognises it instantly, the image of the couple with the moon behind them, the crease in the corner, the frayed edges, it's the one she smoothed out. The one Molly gave her.

She grips it tight, this was in her robe, Beau remembers putting it in her robe. She climbs out of bed and ignores the questioning look that Jester gives her. Her robe is draped across the back of the chair and she quickly rummages through the pockets, but the tarot card isn't there, instead all there is is a blank piece of parchment.

“What the fuck?”

“Are you okay, Beau?” Jester asks.

Beau stares at the tarot card and the picture slowly changes; the man and woman in long flowing robes fade away, replaced by an image of Yasha, her features soft, her eyes brimming with tears, and of herself, Yasha's hand pressed against her chest. “Okay, I get it, I get it.” She looks over at Jester. “I need to go and talk to Yasha.”

“Yeah you do.”

Beau heads to Yasha's room. She knocks on the door and hopes that Yasha hasn't fallen asleep. A few seconds pass and there's no answer, and Beau accepts that whatever she needs to say is probably going to have to wait until morning. She's already heading back to her room when the door opens and Yasha appears.

“Beau?”

“Er, yeah, hey. Did I wake you up?”

“No, I was out on the balcony. Did you need something?”

“I did actually. Can I come in?” She points to Yasha's room and when Yasha doesn't respond she tries to smooth it over. “Or we can go downstairs? Downstairs is good?”

“No, you can come inside.” Yasha steps aside and Beau, not wanting the opportunity to slip away, quickly heads inside.

Yasha closes the door behind them. “Is something wrong?”

“No. I just... I need to show you something.” Beau hands Yasha the tarot card and then waits, and waits, and waits. “What do you see?”

“Where did you get this?”

“Molly gave it to me, I think.”

“Molly?”

“Yeah. The other day, when I, well, when I died. He was waiting for me, on the other side, at least I think it was him, I might have been hallucinating, it was all a little weird. But it definitely seemed like Molly and he gave me that.”

“Molly,” Yasha whispers and looks back at the card again.

“What do see?”

“I don't see anything.”

Beau slumps. Her arms fold across her chest and she nods her head. “Yep, yeah. That's... That what I thought.”

Yasha continues to stare at the card. “Why, what do you see?”

“Me?” Beau's instinct is to lie, to save herself the embarrassment, and probably Yasha as well, but something stops her, something Molly said. “I see you and me. Honestly, I was kind of hoping you would see the same.”

“I do.”

“What?”

“I lied. I see you and me. The day I flew for the first time.”

“Oh.”

“What does it mean?”

“Well, I think it means that I should kiss you,” Beau says.

“Okay.” But it's Yasha who makes the first move. She gently places her hands on Beau's waist and pulls her closer. Their bodies press together. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Beau smiles.

Yasha leans forward and gently kisses her.

#critical role #beauyasha #beauregard lionett #yasha nydoorin #Fic #beau/yasha

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