#rosegrlwrites
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The robit grasps their coin, whispering into it. "Changebringer? Can you hear me?"
The light and warmth of the celestial body encircling Exandria fills Deanna's mind, soft and gentle, the warm sunlight on the best day of spring. And yet, the eyes of the Dawnfather burn like charcoal dropped into an active volcano.
There is a perpetual twilight as he stands here, a single silver road threading towards the woman who guides them. And she is warm and comforting.
He knows why she's here.
"A couple of questions, and then I'll let you go. One. Is working with Bells Hells actually going to help save all of you? They seem dangerous."
"Changebringer? Are the gods—can the gods help my friends?"
The god tilts his head slightly as if to ask her to continue.
"Yes."
"I'm getting so fucking little from you. Fine." The woman huffs. "Are your disciples perpetrating harm in this world at your behest?"
"Are you scared?" The mountains behind her detonate into flames that reach and tickle the endless sky they exist in.
"My disciples do what is necessary for the good of our people collectively, and the future of Exandria."
"Yes."
"Fine. One more." The woman looks up, staring into his eyes.
"Are you worth saving?"
"Are you worth saving?"
The woman smiles. "Of course."
#rosegrlwrites#critical role#bells hells#cr campaign three#cr campaign 3#fcg critical role#fcg#cr fcg#cr deanna#the dawnfather#the changebringer
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Update from me! (As I post two things in the last five minutes.)
I live! And my writing lives! And did better than I thought!
Thank you again for your kind words, love. (And I did read the entire thing—very, very grateful for it.)
Ayyyy thank you for reading my rambles and you're very welcome!! Hope you have fun on your blog 😊
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"I mean, speaking of children, what was Orym like as a kid? Was he always super serious like this? Or was he like a goofball?"
Alma laughed, gentle and bell-like. "I mean, he's always been a sweet little boy."
"That's how I think of him!" The robit's eyes almost glowed with pride. Friendly pride, but pride all the same.
"He's been a handsome, stoic, very physically active child."
"Oh yeah! Was he a captain of the football team?"
"I am a bit of a mama's boy." Orym shrugged.
"Did you ever get in trouble? Was he a troublemaker?"
"Oh, all the time!" Alma smiled warmly. "He was also very curious and he would wander into whatever strange nooks and crannies of the town that he could, and get lost often, and we had to retrieve him."
"I have been pretty high up in the central tree here in town."
"But he's a very good boy and he's made his mother very proud and many of us, very proud."
"And I hope I keep that up."
"Oh, I'm sure you will. Just—" Alma reached out, gently touching Orym's face."Just don't be a hero if you don't need to be. All right? I want to see you come back home safe."
"I only do what's called for, Mom."
"Of course."
"Indeed." Leeta pipes up, patting the halfling on the shoulder. "He'd be very proud of you."
Orym just throws his arms around her knees and hugs tightly. "Okay. Well, that's good. We'll see you soon."
"Indeed. We will."
"Do you remember the time Will fell out of a tree watching you train?" The entire group looked at Berenie. "He had climbed up into the branches and just stared for...I don't even know how long. He leaned forward too far and the branch snapped and you could hear it through all of Zephrah. He wouldn't talk about it for a week—just get all red when anybody mentioned it."
"There was the time he almost burnt down the house making dinner." Lita added.
"The chicken." Orym laughed quietly.
"He ruined half the flower garden training once." Nel sniffled. "Then he ruined it again picking ones for you."
"There was the time you two went stargazing and he didn't think to tell us." Maeve laughed. "We all thought you two had run off in the middle of the night until we found you both dead asleep in the grove."
"First time you sparred, he almost knocked you unconscious with the wooden sword. Didn't want to spar for a week after that." Derrig added, with nods from Nel.
And the stories keep going. Their first date, ruined by the rain. The first time Will took Orym home and all the sisters doted on him, asking him all sorts of things. Will proposing before Orym had a chance to. They're all teary again as Orym jumps in.
"One of the dates—I think the one before the stargazing—we just sat and talked for the longest time and we started talking about what we would do if we got married and what would happen in the future and where we would—" A broken sob is wracked from the halfling, torn from somewhere deep inside of him as he talks. "—where we would go after we got married and what he'd wear and what everything would look like—and where we would go if we ever decided to leave the Blades—he went on about seeing everything and anything—"
Oh, he'd be so proud of all Orym's done.
He's so proud of all he's done.
#rosegrlwrites#critical role#cr campaign three#bells hells#cr campaign 3#cr orym#orym of the air ashari
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It's almost like some sort of cruel trick on Kadija when Ludinus enters her office. The nightmare always haunting her, but never physically until she watches the Elvish man stand in front of her, demanding knowledge she swears she gave.
And still. That soft little tether, green as someone's eyes, going towards her, and suddenly, she is gone. Robbed of whatever fight she had.
And she sits. Hands perfectly clasped on her desk, a soft smile on her face, and a terrified tear running down the side of her face.
Please.
"Is there anything he didn't take?" The woman who looks like Liliana. She looks so much like her.
"What?" Kadija blinks. She can't... remember.
She watches as the purple-haired woman tucks something into her pocket. Blinks again.
"Thanks."
And then there's... More people. Is that a little robot? That talks? Fascinating.
A man leans down to her, soft. Oddly soft, as he seems to be made of rocks somehow.
"Hey, hi there."
"Hi."
"So what's your name, by the way?"
"I'm Kadija."
"Kadija."
"Yeah."
"How old are you?" Numbers swirl in her head. "It's okay if you don't. Just—it's been a rough day, trust me. If it's too hard, it's okay."
The numbers keep swirling around. Too many of them.
"My head hurts."
"Oh, yeah. Whatcha been thinking about?"
"I had—a—I had pages."
"Yeah, you did. That's right." The swirly numbers are joined by too many words. "It's okay. Do you need anything? Do you want anything right now?"
"I could have some water."
The motley group keeps talking on and on, until the rock man turns back to her.
"Do you know who Kai is?"
Ebenold.
"Yeah."
"Would you like to go see Kai? Would that make you happy?"
"Okay."
The man backs up again, and their chatter fills the office once more.
"Oh, my dear." Another woman appears. Red with horns atop her head. Another gentle one. She brings Kadija up and over into a different chair, helping her clutch the water.
"Come on, dear. Sit over here for a second and drink your water."
And after, the group of people who were so kind to her, disappear into some sort of reality-blending tunnel thing. Fascinating.
"Alright, dear. Let's go see Ebenold. And get your mind back."
#rosegrlwrites#critical role#bells hells#cr campaign three#cr campaign 3#cr ashton#ashton greymoore#kadija sumal#ludinus da'leth
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It’s the middle of the night when Orym plants Seedling into the dirt, adorning it gently with delicate sprigs of pale baby’s breath and dark indigo forget-me-nots. Anything to get it closer to the earth and to the Wildmother.
“I don’t know if you can hear me. I don’t know if you can hear any of us anymore. I hope you can. I've heard too many stories firsthand and read too many tales to discount the good that you, many of you have done in this world. I don't know if you have anything left in you, but I'm praying. We could really use a little help down here. I know you can, too, and we'll do our best. But any miracle you can spare.”
“My mother, her name was Livandra, and she was blessed by the Wildmother.”
Bor’Dor is standing in the center of the shrine of Oma-Dua, for once, not appearing afraid, but worn and frustrated and wracked by the never-ending pain of sheer loss.
“My mother taught me her ways in secret, away from the watchful eyes of the rest—the city and the church. I was young and inexperienced, and one day, I had to go into town to get some tools. A group of rich kids started a fight with me, and I couldn’t control my powers, and I Inflicted Wounds on them. Nearly killed one of them. It was an accident, but my mother knew that they wouldn’t let me live. So she took responsibility for it and she took the fall.”
“She believed in the gods, and said that as long as we had faith in them, that we would be taken care of. She accepted her face. Whatever that may be. But my brother, and my father, they fought for her freedom against an entire army. I watched her eyes as her faint in them and that moment shatter into pieces. The gods that she—that we had trusted—let us down. The last thing that I remember was her setting a Vitriolic Sphere on herself and the guards as they swarmed her.”
“And so, I ran. I fled up to the Cyrios Mountains and found a community, and was asked the same question you all have been asking the whole time.”
Do I believe in the gods and that what they do is good?
“And I did not.”
There is so much pain in his eyes. Sadness and tortured, twisting pain after having to watch so much.
“I saw you! You killed my fiends at Marquet! You were there!”
And standing there, Laudna won’t say it, and you can’t see it in her Form of Dread, with her eyes glowing with a less recent lavender hue, but there’s both terror and pain buried deep in the shade.
“I'm really sorry, Bor'Dor. I just can't stand having anyone else betray me.”
The lavender deepens into this midnight, nightmarish shade as the traitor falls unconscious, a soft heartbeat flickering in the back of her mind.
Doesn’t this just feel so good, darling? Doesn’t this feel right?
The shimmer of his life sinks into her, and all Laudna can do feel. Feel everything that she’s been through—losing Imogen, losing her friends, losing so much—death after death after death until it no longer bothers her and is simply something that happens.
But as she stands here, she has control.
Control as a lavender flame burns down her arm. Control as it curls, vibrant and violent.
Control as the shrine floor sprouts blue roses and soft whit-pedaled flowers.
Control as Bor’Dor Dog’Son falls limp and is reduced into nothing but a tortured memory and midnight-purple ash.
And just as quickly as she has it, that control fades back into the recess of her mind as everything rushes over her.
And for the first time in a while, she cries.
“It’s okay.”
“Ashton?”
“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Come here, let’s go sit down.”
“W-what have I done?”
“Nothing that I haven’t. Nothing that—“ The genasi sighs. “I think we’re all going to have some nightmares when this is over.”
“I’m weak.”
“No. You’re just hurt. And it’s okay.”
The chamber is quiet as is can be for a horrified and hurt group.
The locket that Orym took from one of the people killed at the Malleus Key lays sprawled over the ashes.
In time, the shrine moves on. The keeper is respectful, but continues with their duties.
“Let us all take a night of rest. In the morning, I will usher you to your destinations of your choice. Thank you for the kindness you’ve done me and for bringing peace to my circle."
“Laudna?” Prism nurses her broken fist as she gently sits down next to her. “You can say if you don’t want to talk to anyone right now. Would you prefer to be alone?”
“Quite the opposite, I think.”
“Really? Oh. Okay. I just want to say that I’m really sorry for losing me temper there, and I feel like your friends—I don’t know, I just—I know that you’re dealing with a lot, and that seems like it’s no the first time you’ve been betrayed—I think that was the first time I’ve been betrayed. But I’m really, really sorry that that keeps happening you you, and I’m sorry that I accelerated things.”
“To be honest? I was so lost in my rage and my anger. It was a bit of a blur. I wouldn’t be too hard on yourself, Prism.”
“I don’t think you should be hard on yourself, either. It made perfect sense to me when you did it.”
“I’m just afraid that I hurt more than just Bor’Dor and, perhaps betrayed my friends in the process.
“What do you think that you did? What did it all mean—the purple?
“For many decades, I’ve had the lingering life force of an incredibly bad woman—who was a necromancer—latched onto me, puppeteering me, continuing to stay alive through me. These men, and the others, went through great lengths to ride me of her. But I am deeply terrified I just opened that door again. It seems many dark shadows are being released here lately.
“Yeah. But I think, if you close that door once, you can close it again. Sorry. I’m just an apprentice. What do I know? Anyway, I just don’t want you to feel bad. I thought it made sense what you were doing. At least, emotionally, I could understand it.”
“I feel like control is a fallacy. We’ve talked about it so much lately. Trying to control out current destinies. The town trying to control, and the oppressors coming to them. The gods trying to control and world, and the Titans trying to control the gods. But none of them have it. And I lost control of myself in exchange for the briefest moment of feeling empowered. I’m just confused.”
“Well, confusion is sort of like acknowledging that you don’t have control. So, maybe, surrounding to the confusion will be some sort of healing medicine for that.”
“You’re very smart, Prism. Very capable.”
“Oh, thank you. And you’re an incredible magic user. I also think that someday, you’ll be strong enough to just beat this bitch back to where she came from.”
“Thank you, Prism.”
The conversations echo softly in the chamber, reaching Orym in his quiet perch as he sits with his eyes as softly closed as he can get them. There’s so much history here, however complicated and broken it is, even in this moment. So much conflict and every individual choice that sets off a ripple somewhere in the distance, and everything that has been taken from him—Derrig, Keyleth, Will all in the name of philosophy or ideology or whatever -ology of the day it is.
They’re going to try and kill the people who took from him, from Imogen, from Laudna, from everyone, anyone who didn’t care who died to get whatever it is they wanted.
And he knows that he’d fucking die trying, if that’s what it came to.
This is no longer an escapade towards whatever the next step is.
This is war.
#rosegrlwrites#critical role#cr spoilers#bells hells#cr campaign three#cr campaign 3#cr orym#cr imogen#critical role imogen#orym of the air ashari#imogen temult#cr laudna#laudna#cr ashton#ashton greymoore#critical role keyleth#keyleth of the air ashari#cr keyleth#cr prism#bor’dor dog’son#cr bor'dor
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There is a young girl, hiding behind a tree. No older than perhaps six or seven, clutching a small, ragged, and well-loved teddy bear. And she is not afraid like all the others.
When the woman walked into town, thin and gangly with dark eyes and stringy hair, all the other kids ran away—almost like they had done to her—all of the adults whispered amongst themselves as they went along their daily chores—so odd, isn't she? Hm? Oh, yes. Quite. I believe she's staying in the Conlon's old barn. That one on the southern edge? They don't expect her to stay for long.
The woman is sitting at the edge of the fountain in the middle of the square. It's just before dusk, when the sun is mostly down and the stars and moon are slowly starting to find their place in the sky, and, for both of them, it's quiet.
She is swirling the tips of her fingers gently in the water as the young girl climbs up next to her.
"Hello! I'm Mr. Bear. I've been travelling all day and am looking for someone to talk to!" The girl pauses. She's had evenings where this has gone very badly and the stranger just shoos her away back home. But it doesn't.
The woman pulls out this wonderful-looking contraption—a creature with the body of some sort of animal and the skull of another, supported by thin red strings that she wraps about her fingers.
"Why, hello Mr. Bear! I'm Pate, it's so wonderful to meet you!"
The young girl squeals with the brightest joy with dissolves into giggles as the woman pilots Pate around her, having him pick at her hair briefly.
"Huh. Mr. Bear, it seems like someone has been following you. Do you know who this is?"
"Really?" The bear turns its head. "Oh! There is? Why! That's just Cordelia. But I think there's someone following you, too."
"Me?" The bird waves its arm as it spins around. "Nah, that's just Laudna. She's the one who created me!"
The young girl dissolves into giggles again as she hugs her knees to her chest, resting her head on them.
"It's nice to meet you, Miss Laud-na." She drags the syllable in her name out as if testing it in her mouth. "I like that name. It flows better than mine. Cor-de-li-a. Too many syllables. It's not like anyone calls me that anyway."
"I think it's a lovely name, Cordelia. And it doesn't matter what they call you if you like it."
"Yeah. Are you going to be here a while? Or are you going to go away like all the other people?"
"Well, I think I'm going to stay for a little while longer. But then, yes, I may leave like all the others."
"Oh. Well. You're nicer than all the other people who've been here. You're the first person to play with Mr. Bear and me. And I think Pate is really cool and cool that you made him. I didn't make Mr. Bear."
"Thank you."
"Miss Laudna? Do you wanna walk home with Mr Bear and me? Mama said you were living in Mr. Xander's old barn and I see it every morning. He and Miss Drea are really nice. She's helped me fix Mr. Bear before."
"I think that's a great idea, Cordelia." The woman tucks Pate back onto her hip and offers a hand to the stuffy.
"Mr. Bear, would you mind walking me and Miss Cordelia home?"
"Of course not!"
The pair start walking down the hill to the outskirts of town, connected by a teddy bear. The woman will leave under the cover of night in less than thirty-six hours in continuous search of somewhere that won't shun her before she walks into town, but the young girl doesn't need to know that now. All either of them need to know is that they are not afraid.
#rosegrlwrites#critical role#bells hells#cr campaign three#cr campaign 3#laudna#cr laudna#pate de rolo
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Do you have someone? Orym?
No.
Oh, but he did.
He did in those quiet mornings in Zephrah, the sun streaming through the windows and the pleasant warmth of Will beside him, that sweet mix of spices that he always associated with him.
He did on those long days standing outside Keyleth's meetings, he and Will making faces at each other from across the hall to keep them awake.
He did as Will lay dying in his arms, even with the most pleasant and peaceful smile on his face, as if knowing that everything will be okay some day in the future even as he lay bleeding out.
He did in that brief moment of seeing him again before being sent back into reality knowing Will has always been there.
He's always been there. Quietly.
You're going to be okay. The minute you're not okay, you die.
He's already died once. He wasn't okay then. And he's truly not sure if he's okay right now.
The thing is, I don't think I've ever... I just don't think I've ever felt so small.
#rosegrlwrites#critical role#bells hells#cr campaign three#cr campaign 3#cr orym#orym of the air ashari#critical role orym#orym x will#cr denise#cr deni$e
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Where once was a towering, earth-shaping elemental, now shale and pebbles across the ground, is bright red blood strewn across the dirt, and a red-haired Ashari lies amidst her own elemental magic.
Frozen, eyes bright with terror and wide, staring as a woman with a perfect smirk stands over her, spinning a dagger and aiming for her heart.
Oh, good.
A flurry of pitch-dark raven feathers reveals a tall half-elf, holding and glaring daggers at the woman.
I am so very proud of you, and so grateful for everything you gave to me. You are going to be a strong leader and a wise leader.
I'll find you. I promise. I'll see you again.
I'll never be that far away.
"Don't you even dare."
Ludinus smiles as he realizes everything before him.
"And now, the final piece. The sliver of divinity: the lens."
The Champion is beamed with energy as if hundreds of mirrors reflecting it are aimed upon him.
And he screams, as his being is compressed into a sphere of pure, dark shadow.
And a tear falls down the face of the Ashari.
Forever.
And ever and always.
#rosegrlwrites#critical role#bells hells#cr campaign three#cr campaign 3#cr spoilers#critical role spoilers#cr keyleth#critical role keyleth#keyleth of the air ashari#cr vax#vax'ildan#vaxildan#vox machina#cr campaign one#ludinus da'leth#otohan thull
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Day Two: Darkness/Legacy; @percahliaweek
The contract is signed. The signature flickers and glows every so softly, like it was signed with dying charcoal, burning into the parchment. The devil's dark eyes glance between the contract and the man sitting in from of him as he takes the contract in hand.
"What's a devil to a man who fears no god?"
The devil smirks. "Hm. Pleasure doing business."
A young girl in a pale blue dress slips through the door, dark hair in thick braids down her shoulders, a doll tucked under her arm. Deep red skin and horns curling up through her hair echo a being no longer spoken to.
"Darling, I told you not to do that." A gentle smile, breaking his exterior.
"Sorry, Father. I was curious who these strangers were with Keyleth."
"Well. At the very least, I would wish you have a seat in the corner and read a book. Maybe you'll learn something. Pay attention."
The young girl is scanning a medical journal—fascinating things, really, it's a study regarding the overuse of healing magic and the complications of it—as the people in Percy's office go on about the moon and all sorts of strange things and people.
It still scares him some days, looking at her. It's gotten better over the years, yes, but it still hurts a little in the back of his mind. In the trenches of his heart. She is like this because of him.
And yet, she is like this because of him. Different and kind and beloved. Brought into the world because of a meeting, a contract, but with the knowledge that it will never be held against her.
#rosegrlwrites#percahliaweek#critical role#cr1 spoilers#vox machina#cr campaign one#percival de rolo#vex'ahlia#cr3 spoilers
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Well, Imogen, I wish my family didn't have to die for her brighter tomorrow.
It's funny, for however much Will still haunts him to this day, it's come back with a vengeance recently.
To know he's dead and to know who killed him.
To know she is still alive and he is not.
To know what she is trying to do and the fact that he died for it.
Six years of carrying the sword gifted by his husband to fight the woman who killed him.
Six years of losing so much for this woman's greater tomorrow.
Six years ends now.
I'm doing so great on my mini challenge to try to post more, you guys. College is hard. Anyway. Solstice this week! Definitely going to try to write something for that.
Also, if anyone wants some HCs, those are super nice for me to write during the week. So, send me some maybe?
#rosegrlwrites#critical role#bells hells#cr campaign three#cr campaign 3#cr orym#orym of the air ashari#critical role orym#critical role imogen#cr imogen#imogen temult#otohan thull#orym x will#ruidus
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She was brought to dinner by a woman named Delilah.
"I mean, I remember quite a lot, for better or worse. My parents thought that getting an invitation to the palace, to the castle, to meet the Lord and Lady Briarwood was a great boon. We were promised a wonderful feast and an amazing party. We were told we were going to be serving a greater purpose for Whitestone."
Orym froze.
"Laudna?"
"Hm?"
"You know what's interesting about you?"
"Hmm. Well, I would hope a great deal of many things."
"There's the obvious, but you are the happiest person in this bunch."
"Of course. The worst thing that's ever happened to me has already happened."
"What the fuck is up with that?"
"I remember being tossed clothes to wear—it was actually quite fantastic. And then...the rest is a little fuzzy. They dragged me away, separated me from my parents. Next thing I remember is waking up, being hung from a tree. It was the Sun Tree, actually. Quite a spectacle. Oh! And there's these—"
Laudna pulled the small ear cuffs she wore off, showing the jagged tips of her ears.
"They cut my ears to make them pointy, to further match whatever warning signal I was."
We have to help them. We're did this to her. We're the reason she was on that tree in the first place.
And Vox Machina, mighty Vox Machina, keeps to the square's outskirts. Percy and Vax notice it first.
Eight bodies, hanging from the Sun Tree. One for each of them.
Each of the bodies dressed and set as a message.
A message received, and left for another party, years later, to find.
#rosegrlwrites#critical role#bells hells#cr campaign three#cr campaign 3#cr laudna#laudna#cr percy#delilah briarwood
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Whenever Ashton gets a migraine from his powers or his head, each Hell has their own little way of helping.
If they're inside for the day, Imogen sets up the Dancing Lights around the room to keep it just lit enough for everyone else without making the headache worse.
Fearne uses her Ice Knife as an ice pack for when he needs it, and keeps a small mix of flowers to smell when it gets bad.
Orym keeps Gust handy if a smell gets particularly bad, but can Druidcraft little flowers to smell if Ash needs it.
Laudna is particularly handy with her Ray of Frost if a lot of things hurt, but tends to just keep anyone trying to interact with Ash away by simply being a little scary to them.
FCG tends to be avoided by Ash at all costs unless it gets incredibly bad. Then the aeormaton finds them.
Chetney is like a non-magical Laudna. Scary when someone gets close, but checks in every so often to make sure they're still doing okay.
#rosegrlwrites#critical role#bells hells#cr ashton#ashton greymoore#fcg critical role#imogen temult#laudna#fearne calloway#cr orym#orym of the air ashari#cr chetney#chetney pock o'pea
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Following threads. Dark fey influences. Members of the Cerberus Assembly. Power players in Marquet. One month out from trouble. Stay the course?
The words come through as Keyleth sits in the garden after a meeting. They're not from anyone she's ever heard before, but she knows who they're from. This is not good. Not what she expected, either.
"I thank you for the message, whoever you are. This is disconcerting news. Stay the course carefully. I'll pull threads on my end. Stay safe."
Keyleth takes a breath, steeling herself in the comfort of the garden. She is going to need help.
#rosegrlwrites#critical role#cr campaign three#cr campaign 3#cr c3e31#bells hells#orym of the air ashari#critical role orym#cr orym#critical role imogen#cr imogen#imogen temult#keyleth#keyleth of the air ashari#cr keyleth#critical role keyleth
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@ghostofwhitestone was doing HCs around Orym/Will a while ago, and I had described a little thing in my ask and it just has not gotten out of my head, so here's a tiny drabble with my original thoughts and theirs included.
The house after the funeral is quiet. Weirdly quiet. Orym doesn't think the house has ever been this quiet.
Everyone is just sort of...staring. Nel's been crying since the funeral, and she's still sniffling, wiping her eyes with her handkerchief every so often. When they got back, Maeve made tea, but it's still sitting on the table where she placed it.
"Do you remember the time Will fell out of a tree watching you train?" The entire group looked at Berenie. "He had climbed up into the branches and just stared for...I don't even know how long. He leaned forward too far and the branch snapped and you could hear it through all of Zephrah. He wouldn't talk about it for a week—just get all red when anybody mentioned it."
"There was the time he almost burnt down the house making dinner." Lita added.
"The chicken." Orym laughed quietly.
"He ruined half the flower garden training once." Nel sniffled. "Then he ruined it again picking ones for you."
"There was the time you two went stargazing and he didn't think to tell us." Maeve laughed. "We all thought you two had run off in the middle of the night until we found you both dead asleep in the grove."
"First time you sparred, he almost knocked you unconscious with the wooden sword. Didn't want to spar for a week after that." Derrig added, with nods from Nel.
And the stories keep going. Their first date, ruined by the rain. The first time Will took Orym home and all the sisters doted on him, asking him all sorts of things. Will proposing before Orym had a chance to. They're all teary again as Orym jumps in.
"One of the dates—I think the one before the stargazing—we just sat and talked for the longest time and we started talking about what we would do if we got married and what would happen in the future and where we would—" A broken sob is wracked from the halfling, torn from somewhere deep inside of him as he talks. "—where we would go after we got married and what he'd wear and what everything would look like—and where we would go if we ever decided to leave the Blades—he went on about seeing everything and anything—"
"—Oh, Orym." Nel quietly moved beside him as he broke down into tears.
"And now we never will." He sobbed.
"I know, darling."
And the fact is that Orym knows too. It's come crashing far too hard and far too fast and he's falling into the fact that Will is gone much more than he ever truly wants to.
And yet, he'll be caught. Although Will may be gone, his family is not.
#rosegrlwrites#critical role#cr campaign three#cr campaign 3#bells hells#cr orym#orym of the air ashari#orym x will#critical role orym
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Orym won't admit it out loud, but it's a beautiful feeling to know Will is still following him around in a way.
His scent—that mix of spice and home and warmth—drawing him to the looming statue of Serataani, Wildmother.
This emerald forest energy, drenched in vines and ivy, this magic that promised to leave the pure sword safe.
This sword from the man who loved him for however long, this nearly-spoiled anniversary gift.
Orym will at least admit he doesn't understand why he is the one with a deity-blessed sword, but grateful that it's still the sword he started with.
I really need to write that anniversary drabble is what I've discovered recently.
#rosegrlwrites#critical role#bells hells#cr campaign three#cr campaign 3#cr orym#orym of the air ashari#critical role orym#orym x will
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"She was brought to dinner by a woman named Delilah."
Percy has all the gall in him to throw this group out of his office at the name of Delilah. Delilah Briarwood, back to haunt him, years from when she started.
He pulls his glasses off his head, setting them down on the desk. Waiting.
He stands in front of them, after hailing Pike from her morning duties, watching his wife disappear up the stairs.
"She was on the Sun Tree, Pike."
"Oh."
"Oh." Vex is frozen on the steps. "Well. We're the reason she was on that tree to begin with. Pike, can you—?"
"Uh, Percy?" A raised eyebrow. "Percy? There's two souls bound to this body, and I can't separate them. Not like this."
A step forward. "Two souls, Pike?"
"Yeah. And one of them is Delilah Briarwood."
"Then it's done. She is to remain gone."
"That's not how this work." Of course, the group protests. Why wouldn't they? They know nothing of his trauma. Vex's trauma. The entirety of Vox Machina's trauma around this woman.
"That's exactly how this works. Do you have any idea, any possible notion of what—what creature you would possibly be unleashing?"
"No—"
"Then you are one of the lucky few. There is no way we are bringing Delilah back into this world."
Percy is not letting this happen. Not again, not to the family he has created after the one he lost so long ago.
"We've all lost wonderful people, but whatever joy or smile she would bring back would be far outweighed by the death, the destruction, the torture, and the upheaval that Delilah would bring should she return. I will not stand here and allow this. I will not, in my home, in my city, bring Delilah back, and that is final!"
His children have been able to grow up in a world where that woman has never existed to them, and he is not going to forsake it for the sake of this group.
Not today.
#rosegrlwrites#critical role#bells hells#cr campaign three#cr campaign 3#cr laudna#laudna#delilah briarwood#pike trickfoot#percival de rolo#percy de rolo#vox machina#cr campaign one#cr percy#cr vex#vex'ahlia#vexahlia
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