#I really want essek and yasha to have the same (but... knowing them a little muted) relationship that caleb and beau do | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mouseinthecastle · 2 years

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Some two purples and a human writing I started in May but forgot about until I recently got caught up in my Molly/Caleb/Essek feelings again. Essek (and Molly) figuring out some feelings. I wanna make this into a series so bad. Pls check it out and lemmie know whatcha think 🧡💜🧡

It was easy, at first, before it became difficult

In the beginning, Essek spends most of his attention not on his own feelings, but on Calebs.

While Essek wasn't totally sure what to make of the changes to their relationship, he could see that Caleb felt guilty and torn, and he hated to see him that way. Who was Essek to deny this man any ounce of happiness?

It was awkward for them, but they talked. They talked for a long time.

They took time to think about it.

They talked again, this time Mollymauk joined the conversation.

They took more time to think.

Caleb was ever-cautious, terribly considerate, and reassured him constantly. One word from Essek and it would never be brought up again. Essek was sure the strange pain in his chest was from his heart full of love for the man, and nothing else.

Even Mollymauk, to his credit, seemed to be taking this seriously. Taking him seriously, for once.

It wasn't all that uncommon in the Dynasty. Many consecuted souls found themselves falling in love many times in many different ways over their lifetimes. It was said to be a blessing of the Light, to be loved and share one’s love so. Essek never thought much of it; but until Caleb, Essek never thought much of romance at all.

Essek was surprised to find that the practice happened in the Empire as well, although seemingly much less common. Perhaps it was just usual for people to have this much love to go around, Essek wondered. It wouldn’t be the first time his tenuous relationship with attraction left him the odd one out.

He wasn't sure if it would have been easier with any other member of the Nein. He refused to entertain the idea of the mess his life would become if it were Veth. Though he was very fond of Yasha, she would come paired with Beau and that was too difficult to wrap his head around, even in the furthest stretch of the hypothetical. Caduceus, however, was a kindred spirit, and he held a great respect for Fjord. He could picture a life with them, faintly.

But Jester would be the best fit. Essek loved her, and he knew Caleb did, too. Although he didn’t hold the same physical attraction for her as he did for Caleb, he wouldn’t at all mind having her around more often. Spending time with Jester was easy, spending time with Jester and Caleb was a delight.

But the Nein’s other tiefling was a different story, He certainly didn’t dislike Mollymauk. He was a good man, and Essek could admit he was an attractive one as well. He made Caleb happy.

Perhaps that was it. Jester was Jester. She made everyone around her happy, and it was impossible not to fall at least a little bit in love with her. Loving Jester was as natural as breathing.

The purple tiefling was different, so different from Caleb or Essek. He could hardly sit still for ten minutes, let alone spend an evening tucked away reading quietly in the library as Essek often loved to do with the human. The only thing they had in common was that they both had the tendency to be cocky, competitive bastards. But Mollymauk was bright, showy, and loud. Vibrant, in a way that Essek could never compete with.

And they both loved Caleb.

Mollymauk made Caleb happy.

Essek knew that he made Caleb happy too, and that Caleb loved him very much.

But Caleb also loved Mollymauk.

(And Jester, and his old classmates, but those were different stories)

Essek didn’t understand, not really, when Caleb explained it, but he looked at the man, his man, who asked for so little and allowed himself so little joy. Who was he to deny Caleb this, when he himself wanted Caleb to be happy, so badly it hurt?

Essek was reminded again that he was different from most others, in terms of love and relationships. He refused to let his own defects get in the way of Caleb’s happiness. He would catch up, for Caleb’s sake. Essek looked into blue eyes, held his ever-cold hands to warm cheeks, and smiled.

It couldn’t be much different than the strange closeness Caleb already had with their other friends.

—-

For a while, it was not much different than usual. Essek and Caleb’s little cottage in Nicodranas with a teleportation circle in the garden shed and small patio with a curtain of green vines to shade from the worst of the sun often saw different members of the Nein coming and going, and Mollymauk was no exception. Until he was.

They were more present, in small ways. There were small things that calmed his fears, that he actually came to enjoy greatly; but also things that were driving him insane.

Caleb assured that Essek didn't have to be any more involved in his relationship with Mollymauk than he was comfortable with. Mollymauk assured that he would be more than welcome, and made a comment that Essek didn't quite understand, although he did take a moment to appreciate the pretty shade of red it made Caleb’s face turn.

Essek was surprised to find himself invited to their time together more often than not, and although he always politely declined, he was even more surprised that sometimes, he was actually tempted to join.

Away from a crowd to perform for, Mollymauk could actually be pretty sweet and thoughtful when he really put his mind to it.

There were times like last night, when Molly had come over to pick up their shared wizard for a night out:

Molly’s curls flowed fetchingly around their horns and over their forehead. They were wearing the faintest bit of some gold, shimmering glitter on their eyelids. Perhaps by accident, a few stray flecks of glitter had ended up across their collarbones, leading the eye to their handsomely scarred chest disappearing beneath a pale, open collared shirt.

Mollymauk sauntered over to Essek, who was curled up sideways on the seatette with an unusually large cat laid across the tops of his feet, and a somehow even larger tome open across his lap.

“You sure you're good here, floaty?” Molly asked as he leaned over the sofa and into Essek’s personal space. He was wearing enough dangling jewelry to rival Essek’s own, and they jingled sweetly as they moved, “I’m fairly sure there's enough room in the bar for the three of us.”

Essek tore his eyes away from his reading, and used an impressive amount of control to keep himself from jumping when he looked up and saw the tiefling’s face so close to his own. Molly was practically draped across the couch in the same way their cats sometimes did.

“Thank you for the invitation, Mollymauk, but I am quite alright here tonight.”

“Yeah, I figured you’d say that.” They said it good naturedly, but Essek couldn't help but feel shame start to coil in his chest. The tiefling paused for a moment to reach down and lazily pet the cat at Essek’s feet. Dough kindly accepted the attention for a moment before beeping out a strange noise and abruptly turning on her side to clean herself, leg stretched out high.

Both Essek and Molly shared a quiet laugh. It was barely more than a soft breath, but it broke the tension and Essek relaxed a bit.

Molly abruptly stood, and hopped back with a flourish, “However, I think it's a perfect night to get wasted, and I simply can't stand aside while you sit here and stay sober” and Essek realized he had been holding one hand behind his back the entire time. He eyed Molly suspiciously.

“Come now, don't be like that, love.” He says, but he didn't keep Essek in suspense for much longer. From behind his back, he pulled out a bottle of wine.

Essek’s eyebrows raise. A Lionett vintage.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t steal it.” Molly says quickly, “Our lovely expositor lost it to me in a bet. But you know me, the cheap stuff suits me just fine. I figured I’d share the winnings with someone who can actually appreciate how fancy this stuff is.”

Essek purposefully didn’t try to hide the small smile that bloomed on his face. “That’s very kind of you. Thank you, Mollymauk,” he said, accepting the bottle from the tiefling.

The expression on Mollymauk’s face was charming, but hard to place. If it had been anyone else, he would have called the answering smile bashful.

But he didn’t have too long to examine; the next moment Caleb came rushing down the stairs.

“Ach, sorry to keep you waiting. Had to finish a few things up before you get me too drunk to remember.”

Caleb too tried to make an attempt to coax Essek out for the night. Thankfully Molly saved him from the guilt of declining by quickly dragging the wizard away, throwing a smile and a wink back at Essek before kicking the door closed behind them.

#I also wrote my very first smut ever n it’s based in this au lol #but idk where to post I’m too shy for ao3 I think #mousewrites #essek theyless #mollymauk tealeaf #critical role #caleb widowgast #shadowwidmauk #shadowidmauk #mighty nein #shadowgast #shadowmauk #widowmauk

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awaytobeunshaken · 1 year

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Angstpril 2023 - Day 25: Nothing Lasts Forever

Fjord ends up being the first of them to pass. He’d retired from the sea some years ago, back to the little house in Nicodranas, though it had of course had been added onto and fixed up in the intervening years. And when Jester messaged because she didn’t want to be alone, they arrived together, though it was Essek who held her hand in her grief, a grief he was destined to share.

And she was there to take his hand when the time came, when he knelt beside that patch of ground in the Blooming Grove, with no marker save for Caduceus’s impeccable memory of the grounds, when he took that bit of soil to sprinkle on the Ermendrud plot in Blumenthal, a symbolic reunion that Essek could only hope had followed a real one.

Kingsley was next, and his passing seemed almost anticlimactic; as someone whom death had seemed to have no real hold on, there was an odd air of expectation among the rest of the Nein as he was put in the ground. But it had been decades since the Somnovem had inhabited his body, and the natural processes of time were different than being struck down by spell or blade, and it seemed that whatever part of soul or spirit that might have been there from the start would finally be allowed its rest.

Beauregard seemed to suffer no diminishment in body or mind as the years went on, and when her time came it felt almost disconcerting in its suddenness. Yasha seemed to feel the same, as she stood beside the grave, haunted, unmoving, until Essek and Caduceus took her hands and led her to a bedroom in the temple, where Essek touched his forehead to hers and muttered, “I know.”

ao3

Yasha never returned to the house in Zadash, letting the children take care of whatever belongings remained and taking up residence in a spare room in Jester’s home. Essek would stay there, too, as often as was prudent, and and they would often walk along the beach in the evenings, the fringes of the surf tickling their bare feet. One evening Jester stopped suddenly during their walk and took Essek’s hand and looked out across the water for a long while, as if she’d spotted something in the distance, just on the edge of noticing. Then she shook her head and led them back to the house. Neither he nor Yasha were surprised when she didn’t wake the next morning.

Essek again performed what had almost become habit, transporting her body to the grove, Yasha and Veth in tow, to see her laid to rest beside her mother, beside her husband. And for the first time since losing Caleb, he didn’t try to stop the tears as he knelt and placed his hands on the fresh soil, and despite all he had lost so far, and the dwindling numbers of companions surrounding him, and the thought of all the lonely years still before him, all he could say was “Thank you.”

He returned to the house in Nicodranas with Yasha—Jester wouldn’t have allowed it any other way—but they didn’t stay long. Yasha expressed a wanderlust in her later years, and as the other of their number who had been so thoroughly driven from their home, Essek couldn’t think what else to do but oblige her. In their rare forays into cities he would pose as her guide, or she as his protector, but mostly Yasha wanted to spend her time outdoors, in the wilderness where she could feel the Stormlord. Until at last, tired but fulfilled, she asked him to return her to the Grove to wait out her final days.

Veth, well, they got on well enough in the end. Essek had long kept his distance, not trying to force an unearned closeness, but after Yeza was gone she called on him more and more often, and they had the conversations that they could never quite manage when their respective partners were around, and shared stories of the man whom they had both loved in their own way. “You really were good for him,” she admitted in the end. “I hope you know that.”

After he brought her to the Blooming Grove for the last time, there was little for Essek to do but go back into the world, on his own this time, and make what life he could for himself. Caduceus was rarely inclined to leave his home, and Essek couldn’t bear to stay in the Grove for too long at a time. He made various acquaintances, some he could almost call friends, none he was quite willing to bestow with ‘family’. He made sure to return to the Grove at least once a year, though, to check in and say hello and try what new teas the firbolg had cultivated.

But eventually the day comes when not even Caduceus is there to greet him. He checks in less frequently after that, but still on occasion, otherwise continuing in his work, what work he wants to do: study, research, experimentation. He finds what companionship he can, and speaks of his old friends fondly, and finally understands why Caleb has always referred the people in his life so vaguely, because how could a word truly encompass everything these people have meant to him.

At last, after what seems an impossible number of years alone, he feels the tug towards the Blooming Grove one last time. The generation of Clays he first met are long gone, but Calliope’s daughter is looking after the temple, and Carousel greets him warmly. She doesn’t need to guide him to the place he’s looking for, but she holds him up on shaking legs, and he doesn’t kneel this time, merely presses a hand to his lips and mutters. “I’ll see you soon, love.”

And then Essek Thelyss returns to the temple of the Wildmother for his final rest.

#angstpril2023 #critical role #fanfic #day 25 #nothing lasts forever #cr2 #essek thelyss #the mighty nein #cr fic #my fic

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catgirlthecrazy · 2 years

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Let's play a game folks: Which Orders of the Knights Radiant Would Each Member of the Mighty Nein Belong to?

(Aka: the Stormlight Archive equivalent of sorting your favorite characters into Hogwarts Houses).

This is something that's been bouncing around in my head off and on for literal years. It's a little tricky, because a few of the Orders (Elsecallers, Stonewards, and Dustbringers especially) have received very little screentime so far; for those who need a refresher on what each of the orders is about, I'm mostly relying on the information on this webpage; it's also a decent primer on the Radiants for Critical Role fans who haven't read the Stormlight Archive and want to know WTF I'm talking about. I suspect the audience for this post is going to be small, but fuck it, I'm doing it anyways.

In descending order of certainty.

Jester: Lightweaver, easy. She's an artist, she deals in subterfuge and illusions a lot, and her speech to Caleb about how "we all lie sometimes" fits really well with their ideals. Lightweavers are also known for bringing joy to others through art and entertainment, and for helping others see the best in themselves. Both of those describe Jester to a T

(trying to imagine Artagan as her Cryptic, though, makes my brain segfault)

Beau: also easy, Truthwatcher. This order is very concerned with discovering and spreading knowledge, with a significant minority specifically interested in making sure those in power are being honest with the ones they lead. That's the entire guiding philosophy of the Cobalt Soul.

Yasha: Windrunner. For a long time I was really unsure about where she'd fit. Then I watched the episode where the Stormlord asked her why she fights, and her answer was "to protect." That's what the Windrunners are all about. Though I can't see her being part of a formal military hierarchy like Kaladin's Windrunners have; I think she'd operate independently or as part of a loosely organized group.

Also, they can fly.

Fjord: Willshaper. This order is all about freedom and exploration, and that's a perfect fit for a paladin who swore the Oath of the Open Sea. Willshapers are also one of the two Orders that can teleport, and Fjord has a shit ton of teleportation spells. Bonus: his pact weapon and Armor of Agathys already function like a Shardblade and Shardplate

Caleb: my gut says Elsecaller, though we don't know a ton about them. That order is described as thoughtful and wise, their oaths are themed around reaching your potential, and they tend to attract a lot of scholars. Much of Caleb's arc involved him trying to reach his fullest potential as a wizard. Plus, their Soulcasting abilities are a good match for Transmutation. However, I think you could also make a case for Dustbringer: their oaths are all about mastering yourself and the destructive abilities you wield. Plus they're the order most known for burning stuff.

Molly/Kingsley: Willshaper again. The description in the link provided literally says: "The Willshapers contain many gregarious and even flamboyant characters who make their own way, taking the path they choose." And doesn't that describe him to a T?

Essek: for a while I wanted to say Truthwatcher, because he's very keen on discovering knowledge and unlocking the secrets of dunamancy. And I do love the poignancy of him getting healing powers. But given that his entire arc is all about him realizing that he wants to be a better person, and struggling to figure out how to do that, I'm more inclined to put him with the Elsecallers. And it would be fitting for him to be in the same order as Caleb.

(it's a shame, though, that neither of the orders with gravity powers fit him at all)

Veth: Stoneward. This might seem odd at first glance, given that that order is known for attracting jocks and soldier types. But if Veth had one guiding principle, it's that once she's adopted you, she'll do just about anything for you. She's the one who gave us "the only choice we've consistently made is to take care of our friends." That fits the "I will be there when I am needed" ideal pretty well.

Caduceus: Him I'm least sure of. On a thematic level, Edgedancers are the best fit, since they're the order most known for healing, they attract a lot of clergy, and their spren are sapient plant people. On the other hand, the Edgedancer ideals are all about remembering the forgotten little people of society, and that's not really a Caduceus thing.

Edit: multiple commenters have convinced me that Caduceus, who devotes his life to tending the graves and remembering the stories of the dead, is in fact a perfect fit for the Edgedancers, so I stand corrected about that.

The one thing I can be absolutely sure of is that absolutely none of these chaotic, rule-breaking chucklefucks are Skybreakers.

#the stormlight archive #critical role #meta #my post

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tagalongifyoudare · 1 year

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Wait you watch Critical Role?!? Which campaign?? Who's your favorite! Tell me everything!! (full disclosure CR was my life for a good while there until YR happened so I'm not entirely caught up at the moment but oh well :) )

AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

Okay; now that I have gotten that out... I haven't actually ever "met" anyone else who watches, so this is very very exciting. This is probably going to be long, so enjoy 🤷🏽‍♀️

CR was my life too, for like years!! I am fairly behind right now, but in the process of catching up!! I was a bit behind, and then YR literally took over my life for like months and months and months (and totally still is 🫀) They are just about to go to the ball, so Episode 13 of Campaign 3...

I have almost seen all of it (with the exception of a few of the more recent one-shots)!! I actually named my puppy Zahra after Zahra from Campaign 1 🫀 I am assuming you have seen all or most of it too? Maybe you stopped around the same point as I did? If not, just skip the campaigns you haven't seen! (You'll see a theme with my favorite characters though 😂)

It is always so hard for me to chose because they are all just so fantastic (and I find my favorites change based on my mood), so I will just give you a little bit about my most favorites (I would also LOVE to hear ALL your thoughts as well 🫀)

Campaign 1:

Pike and Grog are simply everything. They make me laugh, they make me cry, they make me feel all the things.

Scanlan is just fantastic in everything he does. I knew what was going to happen with him, and it still hurt so much. Add him to the Pike/Grog combo and only the best things happen (or the most heartbreaking).

*Side note-one of my favorite scenes is when Grog and Taryon go shopping and run into the guards. It always makes laugh until I cry.

Percy will always be one of my loves. I can't help but love a truly fucked up pretty boy, and like he is just the most fucked up and the prettiest 😂

Campaign 2:

Yasha will also always be one of my loves for basically the same reasons as Percy 😂 She is a fucked up pretty girl, and I love them just as much as I love fucked up pretty boys🫀 And her and Beau just have my whole heart.

Fjord is just so thoughtful and caring, even though he also almost never has any idea what is happening 😂 I love him so so much!!

Cad has always felt like my internal hermit. Like, I will go out, and I just want to help, but also, it's only fun for so long. Also the giant, scattered family is so true for me. Although I am no where near as calm as he is 😂

Essek will also always be one of my loves, for just all the reasons 🫀

Jester might be me a little bit? She always tries to be a light for others, and yet sometimes, she is just so dark. Also the jelly fish, and the cupcakes, and the tarot...she is just everything!!!

Campaign 3: I feel like I don't know them well enough yet, but kind of love them all so far!!!!

I also saw that you watch Derry Girls; once again very exciting!!!

I would really love to hear your thoughts when/if you want 😀🫀

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essektheylyss · 4 years

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ok so prompts. Essek n Yasha. Xhorhas kids. (omg essek would have to room with yasha cause she's the only one without an established roommate)

I love the Xhorhas kids about as much as I like the Empire kids, I fully believe that eventually they’d end up treating each other as siblings as much as Beau and Caleb do but for now this is where they’re at I think!

The first time he ends up rooming with Yasha, she sits against the wall across from his bed and sharpens her wicked looking greatsword, the one with the gilded hilt, and he knows that that sword is meant for people like him, and he isn’t sure if this is her idea of a joke or not.

He’s not tired in the slightest, still on edge from a fight that afternoon and too aware of how little rest he needs compared to the rest of the group, so he sits crosslegged and straight-backed and tries to focus on his spells as he estimates which he might need, and tries to ignore the schick, schick, schick, of the metal.

His eyes have skimmed the same set of runes over and over for a minute and a half when her voice reaches him, soft as thunder. “What do you read? Before you sleep?”

He looks up. Her repetition doesn’t falter. Schick. “I am trying to decide which spells will be most useful tomorrow.”

“Surely you know which spells you have by now. I see you reading every night when we are on the road.”

“Well, yes,” he blinks. He knows from enough time spent in the group that Yasha often asks questions that he would not have thought her interested in, but none of those questions have ever been directed at him. “But it is easier to choose when they are right in front of me.”

“That isn’t the only book you read though,” she says, and finally sets her sword aside, drawing her knees up.

“No,” he says, and with barely a thought pulls one of the other books he’s brought along on this trip from the air. “I always have a few volumes with me, depending on what topic I am interested in at the time.”

“What are you interested in right now?”

He looks at the cover, knows she may be interested as well. She doesn’t know where she came from, not exactly, but he knows she carries almost as much regret as Caleb—certainly more even than he does.

They are a motley crew of remorse and shame, he thinks, though he does not know all of the details of their stories. He has not felt worthy enough to ask for more than what they have already given.

“Time,” he says simply, and she slowly pushes herself to her feet, resting on the very corner of his bed before she takes the tome and flips through. “I am interested to see—well, I am interested to see what might be capable of change. Where potentiality might be altered without irrevocably scarring the rest of the timeline.”

At first, he thinks she’s not quite following, as she stares at him, but then she rests the book in her lap and flips through its pages. Without looking up, she murmurs, “Is this for you? Or for him?”

His stomach drops, and he can’t bring himself to answer.

“Essek, do you know where I am from?”

He shakes his head mutely, and she must catch enough of the movement to know what his response is, because she continues.

“I am from a tribe in the south of Xhorhas,” she says softly, and her voice sounds like a storm on the way. He knows what kinds of tribes live there, and though he knows what Yasha is capable of, it’s hard to reconcile the low-voiced, sorrow-touched woman sitting on the bed with the stories he has heard growing up in Rosohna. “I… I hurt many people, there. It was what they do. And then… I fell in love with someone I was not meant to. Someone who…” she smiles, and he thinks she is very far away indeed, “who brought me flowers. So I collect flowers to bring to her now.”

He doesn’t want to ask, but he does so anyway. “Where is she now?”

“She’s gone,” she says. “My tribe killed her, when they found out that we were married.” She closes the book and hands it back. “I ran away, like a coward.”

He’s seen her run into battle ahead of the group, drag monstrosities back by their necks to keep them from touching the rest of them at her own expense. If anyone has the right to shed that title, it’s Yasha. And here she is, claiming it for herself, like a shroud she wears.

“I am… my hands have killed many, many people.” She looks back at her sword, and he follows her gaze. “And others’ blood is on them even if I did not deliver the blow.”

“And you still feel unclean now, I imagine.”

She pierces him with her dual-colored gaze. “Don’t you?”

He doesn’t break eye contact, though the book is heavy in his hands. “Yes.”

She nods, and looks down at her large palms. “Good. That’s good. You can’t learn any better if you think the blood has washed away.”

He sits in the silence for a long moment, and examines his own palms, rougher now that he has lived on the road. Gone are the days of manicured fingers and soft skin, but at least this way they are beginning to match what he feels like inside.

“Xhorhas has…” he trails off, smiles slightly, ruefully. “We have some strange views on life and death.”

“Yes.”

“It is hard to learn the measure of a soul in such a barren place as that.” He swallows hard. “I am glad to be learning now.”

“Your people seem to be all about the measure of a soul.”

“Only once it has achieved something,” he shrugs. “Worth is not a right, it is earned.”

“Well, I don’t know that that is any different in the empire. But it is different here.”

They sit in silence for a moment, before Yasha moves to her own bed and starts to pull flowers from a pouch at her belt and press them between the pages of a worn book. “If you are looking to… to change the past, to atone, perhaps you should speak to Caleb about it. He’s very… very wise about that kind of thing.”

“I know,” Essek murmurs, and the book vanishes into its pocket dimension. He imagines lips on his forehead and inconspicuously scratches at the place between his eyes. “He is very wise about many things.”

“I am not anywhere near as smart as he is,” Yasha offers, “but I think you are doing alright now to be working with us to do good. In the present. Trying to erase your mistakes doesn’t mean you didn’t make them. It only means that you’re the only person who has to live and die with it.”

“If that is all, then perhaps that is the price I must pay.” He sighs. “In any case, I don’t even know if it’s possible.”

“Well, then what you are doing is still a good step. And if you stray…” As she closes her journal and begins to lay down to sleep, she nods at the sword, resting against the wall. “I’m still not above taking your head off.”

He smiles. “Thank you, Yasha.”

“You’re welcome.”

#essek fic requests #essek thelyss #yasha nydoorin #critical role #we're gonna see if this works at all #and if not I'll just start posting them as text posts #whatever tumblr #yes I did take a week break from prompts cuz I didn't realize how much time had passed it's fine #I really want essek and yasha to have the same (but... knowing them a little muted) relationship that caleb and beau do #minus the library nonsense but they seem more like the quiet reading at home crew #doesn't matter what they're reading #idk just remembered yasha in the garden reading that book #and loving the idea of them both on the road sitting quietly next to each other reading in the evenings #hell yes #FRIENDSHIP #kaetor

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tarydarrington · 3 years

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“Aw, man, you guys.” Jester’s pout as she flops down onto the sofa silences the conversation. “My mama needs one of our rooms.”

Even sugarcoated for Jester’s sake, the chorus of disappointment is instant.

“We made reservations!” Veth protests. “Us! We made reservations, like three months in advance!”

Evidently, though, the Marquesian dignitary visiting Nicodranas takes priority over the Ruby’s daughter and her friends. Caleb can understand that. The Nein have taken seven rooms for their annual reunion, the Lavish Chateau having seemed a more fitting setting than Rumblecusp after Fjord’s most recent misadventure on the water. They’ve taken almost the entire second floor, and judging from the crowd in the main room, business is hardly slow.

Still, it’s an easy enough problem to solve. He clears his throat. "Well, Essek and I can share."

If eyebrows raising made a sound, the room would be cacophonous.

Veth shakes her head immediately. "Absolutely not. You deserve a room of your own. A nice one." She gestures at the door. "Besides, there's only one bed."

"I mean, he doesn't really sleep, though," Beau points out. "He kind of just…" She holds her hands out to her sides, mimicking a meditative stance.

Fjord points at her in agreement. “He probably just needs a couch or a chair or something.”

"But Caleb deserves his own space," Veth repeats. "He's all cooped up in that tiny little shack of his, all the time--"

"My house is perfectly comfortable," Caleb murmurs, slightly affronted. She’d called it cozy, when she’d visited last.

"--and now he has the chance to have a night of real comfort. In his own space."

"Well, you know, Essek and I have been through quite a bit together." It would be far from the first time they had shared a room. "He is more than welcome in my space.”

Jester wiggles her eyebrows at that, and Caleb supposes he walked into it.

“It can be nice,” Yasha says, “to have someone close by, when you’re used to sleeping alone.”

Oh. That is more touching than a conversation like this ought to be. He gives her a soft smile, which she returns in full.

“Do you want him so close, Caleb?” Jester asks with a shimmy of her shoulders, and the moment is over.

In the end, he manages to convince them. Beauregard is right; Essek’s simpler needs in the way of rest make him the logical choice to share a room, and Caleb is his logical partner. Veth scowls about it for a while, but the rest of the day continues as planned with only a few pointed looks from Jester on the subject.

Essek arrives late in the evening to a chorus of welcoming shouts and a veritable pile of a group hug. Caleb pulls him in for one of his own once he’s managed to peel the others off, and gets a menagerie of suggestive looks from the others for his trouble.

Luckily, Jester launches into yet another eager recounting of the Uk’otoa incident, and all attention turns to her until the moment is forgotten.

It’s far too late by the time they finally call it a night. Even the Chateau’s patrons have largely settled down, and more than once Kinglsey has received a dirty look from the staff for being too loud. There is some strategy involved in waiting until the rest of them have trickled up the stairs into bed; it means that when he and Essek make their way upstairs together, no one is left to tease.

“This is us,” Caleb says when they reach the proper door, and Essek regards him dubiously.

“Are the others... aware, then?” he asks tentatively.

Caleb grins, pressing the key into the lock and turning. Essek follows him in silently, casting one last cursory glance over his shoulder before pulling the door shut behind them.

“No,” Caleb answers when the lock clicks shut, and slips his arms around Essek’s neck. “But, you know, they are going to figure it out pretty soon.”

Essek’s fond breath of laughter ghosts across Caleb’s face, and Caleb can think of no reason why, after so long, they should wait another moment before he pulls the elf in for a kiss.

Three bangs at the door breaks them skittishly apart.

“Are you guys making out in there?” Jester’s muffled voice calls.

“Yes,” Caleb deadpans in response, and Jester’s answering snicker says she’s taken it as the joke he meant her to.

“My mama wants you to know that if you need anything, you should ask Carlos,” she shouts. “So, you know, if Essek wants a really cool pillow to trance over, or something.”

“Thank you very much,” Essek returns, and Caleb silently commends him on how steady his tone sounds in contrast to the flush on his face. Immediately after the words are out, though, he ducks his head down to hide his face in Caleb’s shoulder.

“Ja, we will let him know,” Caleb adds, patting Essek’s hair with a fond smile. “Goodnight, Jester.”

“Have so much fun, you guys,” Jester says with an audible grin, and her footsteps recede down the hallway.

Caleb waits a moment, until Jester’s faraway voice calls out to Caduceus with the same information, before pressing a kiss to the very top of Essek’s head.

“Do you have the tower available?” Essek asks his collarbone.

Caleb rubs a comforting hand up and down the length of his back until some of the tension eases. “Sure,” he says. “We will be wasting a prime opportunity to live out a true romantic fantasy, though.”

Essek peeks out from his hiding place for the first time, quirking a skeptical brow at him. “There is only one bed?” he asks dryly. One hand comes up to cup Caleb’s face, and this time he’s the one to pull them together.

“Ja, there are, ah… there are about a dozen in the tower,” Caleb says after they pull apart again, once he remembers himself.

Essek hums a laugh, but leans away when Caleb leans back in. “Cast it,” he says. “I promise to find yours.”

#i wanted to write something quickly that was short and fun and the result was this #had been sitting on some rough writer's block so i'm pretty happy with having cranked this one out regardless of the clunk #shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #critical role #mine #mine:fic #caleb #essek #mn #scheduled post i'm asleep

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kurosmind · 3 years

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I have a dehydration headache from the amount of tears I’m producing oh god Shadowgast is canon Beauregard Lionett is the most badass woman in the continent and she is ReSPECTED, SHE’S SMARt. She’s been connecting the dots FROM THE START. She earned her place and matured so much in this year of her life and I’m so proud of her. Yasha has her happy ending. She gets to just live, be in love, adventure and cultivate flowers. She found Zuala’s grave. She has the protection of a god. She has the love of an amazing woman. She broke free from everything that held her back. Jester found her path, she found her freedom from herself, in a way. She grew up so much. She doesn’t depend on anyone anymore, she just loves them. She can live her life of adventure, and love without bindings. Fjord too, found his path, his calling. His closure from the past, maybe, more of a reconnection, and a mission to the future. He has faith, he has love, he has the sea. All he needs. Veth has her family. She let go of her fear. She is smart, finally thinking she’s ready to dab more in the arcane than she already was before. She’s beautiful and good, she loves herself, loves her body, and isn’t afraid to shout it. She’s brave. She was always Veth the Brave, but now she believes it. Caduceus found his balance. He has his family, his home. And his wanderlust too. Both things can cohexist. He can travel and explore how he wants, because he always has a home to come back to. Caleb... Caleb found his peace, probably. Maybe he doesn’t believe he’s a good person still, but now he believes he can be. And he will. He will teach, he will discover, he will keep growing and making his home better. He’s free, he’s not alone. He loves and he’s loved. He misses the past, but he lives the present. Essek... Essek broke free from his own chains, in a way. Yes, he’ll spend his life - or at least a big portion of it - in hiding. But he’s no longer the Shadowhand. He’s no longer held back by the weight of his guilt. He too knows now that he can become a good person. He has the ability to do good, and maybe he will. No more expectations to meet but the ones he sets for himself. And he’s also, not alone. He, also, loves and is loved. Mollymauk... Kingsley. Not the same person, but again, he was probably never going to be. But he acknowledged the love that the Mighty Nein have for Molly, so maybe he could bear to love him too, a little bit. His life had been stolen. And now it’s his again and he gets to live it how he wants, knowing that there are other 8 people that will love him. In the end, this really is a story about breaking free of chains, metaphorical or physical. They did. They took their thrones. Long may they reign.

#critical role #I am once again crying y'all #caleb widogast #beauregard lionett #jester lavorre #fjord stone #veth brenatto #caduceus clay #essek thelyss #kingsley tealeaf #mollymauk tealeaf #shadowgast #beauyasha #fjordjester #cr spoilers

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tepid-tea · 2 years

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Alright, heres this weeks Wip Wednesday! sorry its not more but I hope you enjoy! Last week Too everyone's surprise Kingsley was completely taken by Izil, he’d sat on the floor with her in his lap for hours it seemed. He waved his tail for her to try and catch; the shine of the gold piercings were catching her eye to grab with chubby little hands. She’d squeal high and bright every time she caught it, looking up at the tiefling with a pleased look as he cooed at her. Then when it came for dinner time Kinglsey offered to take her while they were eating; not even minding when she had gotten mashed potatoes on his pants. “Damn, looks like Fjord has been dethroned as Izzies favourite” Beau laughed as the cats started to whisk away everyone's dinner plates.

Essek couldn't help but smile at the frown on the half orc’s face that could nearly rival the pout Jester had been sporting all evening. He had tried to talk to her and get Izil to at least interact a little with the blue tiefling but the baby refused and cried. The suggestion of them coming to stay in Nicodranas for a little while after this was well received. Perhaps with more time together Izil would get used to Jester but she still seemed sad. Now with Izil latching onto Kingsley without any hesitation it just seemed to worsen her mood.

“You plan on makin any more of these?” Kingsley asked suddenly, causing Essek to choke on his drink. Looking over at the tiefling he could see there was a glint of mischief in his eyes but also actual interest as well.

“We’ve not really discussed anymore beyond Izil to be honest” Essek murmured, taking a sip from his wine glass as he looked over at his husband for a moment.

Caleb had been distracted all evening but now he seemed to be allowing himself to relax a little. Currently he seemed to be whispering with Yasha, eyes as bright as the smile on his face as they drank. If he didn’t know any better he would think the two were plotting something but even if they were he knew Yasha would let it get too wild.

Sighing softly Essek looked back to Kingsley and reached out to wipe a smudge of potato off Izil’s cheek that was missed. She meeped softly and grabbed at his fingers to try and stuff into her mouth to gum onto. Huffing gently, he let his fingers slack to allow her to gum happily as her ears wiggled in glee. Her free hand rubbed at her eye tiredly but at the same time she seemed content and happy. “If she is all we ever have then I would never complain” Essek murmured, brushing his free hand over her cheek and wiggly ear.

“That's not a no” Kingsley chuckled, handing Izil over when she started to reach towards him with tiny ‘ah’s’. “It's not something we’re really in a position to think about Kingsley but if that changes I’ll let you know” Essek smiled, pressing a kiss to the side of Izil’s little head. He swapped his fingers for her stuffed kitty to teeth on, wiping his damp hand on the napkin from the table.

“That would be lovely, I really want to be there for the whole process; if you know what I mean” The tiefling grinned wolfishly, waggling his eyebrows at him. “And we’re done; pleasure as always.” Essek dragged out the first word, rolling his eyes as he stood with his daughter in his arms. The other man cackled and gave him a nod as Essek made his way out into the central iris. He wasn’t escaping per say, he had an infant covered in potatoes that needed a bath and bed.

—--

“Ah! AH!” Izil cried out, splashing her little hands in the basin of water. No matter how sleepy she always enjoyed bath time.

With dinner and the day's activities washed off the infant, Essek placed the floating rubber duck into the water to give her time to play. He couldn’t help but smile as her eyes widened and zeroed in on the bobbing yellow fowl. With soft little ah’s and other sounds she grabbed at the duck and pushed it around making it gently bob and weave. A tiny look of annoyance that screamed Caleb passed over her face as for some reason the duck wasn’t doing what she wanted. He watched as she lifted both of her little arms up, open palms and slammed her hands down into the water sending it everywhere.

Water collected in Izil’s eyelashes, her little stubby nose scrunching up as her ears flicked away the water she accidentally splashed herself with. A soft annoyed sound bubbled from her as she tried to fruitlessly scrub the soap and water out of her face. Essek watched her fuss for a moment before picking up a dry cloth and brushing it over her little face with a gentle shush. Once her face was clear he pressed a gentle kiss to her still scrunched up face, both hands cupping the sides of her face.

“You’re okay; we will have to reevaluate your approach for next time hmm?” He said as he gently pushed her damp hair back. “What experiment was she trying out?” Caleb's voice drifted from the doorway. “The force in which she needs to exert in order to create waves to make her ducky dance” Essek replied, flicking said ducky towards the baby’s little grabby hands.

He watched as she quickly picked it up and crammed the head of it into her mouth to gum on. While she was distracted with that he continued to wash off the remaining soap from her as he listened to Caleb walk further into the room. She was starting to get sleepy eye’d as the weight of the long eventful day started to catch up on her. Izil always wore out quicker whenever there was the excitement of their friends visiting and fawning over her. He just wished it was under better circumstances then it was now. Even he was tired with all of the research and worrying they were doing as they looked into the source of the attack. Everyone had their own theories and none were very good. “Leibling, why don’t I finish up here with her so you can get to bed first hmm?” Caleb offered, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as he stood right behind him.

Normally Essek took care of bath times since Caleb usually had marking to do but their situation currently gave him a chance to step in. It didn’t help that the poor man had been high strung and with his stressed demeanor it made Izil fussy whenever he tried to hold her so he hadn’t had much time with her lately. Also her being extra clingy to him and crying whenever he was out of sight didn’t help either.

“Alright, just make sure you use the cream in the green jar after” Essek smiled, turning to give the other man a kiss. He pressed a kiss to the side of Izil’s head and made his way out of the bathroom and towards their bedchambers. “Okay mausi, let's get you dried ja?” Essek heard Caleb whisper as their daughter babbled back at her father happily.

#shadowgast #cr fanfic #my fic #wip wednesday

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eponymous-rose · 3 years

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Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E131 (March 30, 2021)

Tonight’s guests are Liam O’Brien and Sam Riegel!

Brian points out that a lot of Caleb’s greatest fears have come to pass. Liam: “It’s funny, because he’d kind of believed for a while that those things weren’t going to happen. After a while, he got complacent.” He notes that it was extra wild because everything with Trent popped up again in the midst of that complacency. And how did it feel to be defiant toward Trent? “I think Trent successfully made Caleb question if Caleb really was in control“ at the dinner party. “I feel like anything that I do is part of his plans for me, or is that just gaslighting? I’m legitimately scared of that dude.” Sam: “Of Matt?” Liam: “Sure.” He highlights the disconnect between knowing that the M9 is mechanically powerful and could possibly defeat Trent in a dice-and-stats battle, versus fearing him in a story sense and being convinced he can do almost anything.

Sam, on Luc’s death: “That was brutal, man. Matt Mercer is a-- he hates children! Clearly. He actively sought to kill a child in the campaign in as brutal a way as possible. He hates children and wants them dead. Canon. No, but to RP, that was horrible.” He highlights that so much of Veth’s arc has been about trying to get back to her family. “We had to choose something and we thought we were making the right choice. It was all Veth’s fault, and it was pretty rotten. My heart was beating pretty fast, and I certainly didn’t want to have my son die live on the stream. I don’t know what Veth would have done. That’s the end, that’s over. It’s almost worse than when your own character would die. This is something that would also kill Veth.” After the episode was over: “just shaken. I also didn’t know what to do next! That felt like a turning-point moment for my character, weirdly so close to what we assume to be the end arc of this campaign. I texted Matt later that night and was like, that’s it, Veth’s out, I’m tapping out.”

There’s an interlude in which Sam discovers a new dream to record an episode of this show from his Peloton. Dani informs him that she will not be inviting him back.

On Astrid, Liam: “I literally don’t know what she’s doing. I know that she’s dangerous, she always was ambitious, and there’s not been a moment where Caleb let his guard down with her. He’s not trying to reestablish what they had. He cares for the both of them, for Astrid and Eodwulf. He thinks about it a lot, still. He can’t tell how much she buys into everything that she experienced and is now living as a full-grown adult. He suspects that she’s bought in and is not going to change things, because she believes in the system, as much as he’d like to peel her away. He does believe that they want what’s best for the Empire, and stopping whatever wants to come vomiting out of a hole in the frozen north is good for everyone. And they’re powerful. They’re not trustworthy, obviously. But there’s enough at stake to make it worth it. He could imagine a situation where they fight each other to the death.” He was convinced Astrid was going to stop them when they left the tower and was really shocked when she held back. Sam: “Not me! I’ve trusted Astrid since day one. She’s the greatest! I sent a letter to her, she’s very nice, I think you guys would be a nice couple. I believe every word she says.”

On having to decide on Veth deciding to go off and save the world after Luc’s death. “Like I said, I was ready to be done. And then I decided somewhere in there that that’s not very D&D. So I thought I’d leave it up to somebody else, so I asked Caduceus to decide for me, essentially. She knows she’s putting her other family in danger if she doesn’t go. It’s an impossible choice, you know?” Liam: “I love watching you grapple with it, because you’re a lovely father and love your kids.”

On the Sanatorium, Sam: “That was brutal, man. Matt lulls you into a sense of complacency. We’d forgotten that Caleb was a stone-cold killer! It had been a while since he went on a murder spree. Still got it!” Liam: “I never meant for this character to be perfect sunshine.” Brian: “You don’t say.” Liam: “He’s very not-perfect, and I think in his brain, he was going in with the impression that they needed to get in and get out as soon as possible. The place is crawling with people with magic ability, and I didn’t have faith that we wouldn’t be sussed out or something wasn’t going to blow an illusion.” Everything was about getting out of there as fast as possible.

Did the conversation with Yeza help with Veth’s decision? “First of all, every conversation with Yeza is a beautiful one. Every time she talks to Yeza, it makes her feel good. In some ways, she’s gotten to the point now where she knows Yeza’s going to be supportive, she knows he’s going to allow her to do what she wants, but maybe that’s too much. Maybe she needs to not listen to him, basically, and be like, no, you need to be selfish now, dude, you need to say ‘come home, I’m sick of you leaving’. At a certain point, being supportive can turn into being enabling.”

Cosplay of the Week: Jester in the snow! (liljerbear47, photography by kairiceleste on Instagram)

On Trent’s motivations for chasing Caleb: “I really don’t know. The simplest explanation is to just hammer down the nail that’s sticking up. It has crossed his mind that all high-level wizards are in danger of their own ambition and egos, so it’s occurred to him that Trent might have the same kind of ideas that Halas had in the past, and maybe Caleb was always meant to be another body to jump into. Maybe in some sick, disgusting, twisted way, he wants him to be his successor. I am thinking of the next campaign, without getting too deep in, trying to do something that is much more ride-along. Caleb is very, very specific, and I thought long and hard about all the different pieces on the chessboard for him. For campaign three, I’m looking forward to seeing what happens.”

Dani: “Do I need to be keeping lore on your fucking ads?”

On the cursed dagger: “It was a tricky one, because in campaign one, one of the characters was under the influence of a cursed weapon, but it interacted with him and he knew what it was and what it did. And it affected his gameplay as a character. For me, Veth didn’t know what it was, ever. I as a player knew what it was doing, but Veth didn’t know at all. So it was kind of like my dirty, dark secret for many months. I knew this thing was coming perilously close to killing me, but my character didn’t know enough to bring it up to her friends. Nobody ever asked! So I was like, well, I guess this thing’s just going to kill me one day, and it’s kind of going to be a surprise.” Liam: “Sam, you love danger and self-destruction so much, you might as well be Mollymauk.”

On the fight in Yasha’s sequence, Sam: “You gotta put a character in your storm giant creature. It was so fun! It was so great of Matt to involve us in this encounter. It would’ve been fun just to watch, because Matt would have made it amazing and Ashley was sweating bullets, which is always fun to watch.” Sam notes he felt guilty, but Liam was going for the kill. Liam: “Matt’s gotta be careful about giving me that kind of story beat. I do not fucking care, I just fucking flip, I’m like, well, I’m going to destroy you, and I have no qualms about it. It’s too much fun!”

The Beau/Yasha tower date was in part inspired by not being able to give gifts as easily this last year. “This thing that we do together is a gift, but I love finding these moments, like the book for Jester and the tower for Yasha and for Beau. I really just wanted to give both of them a little magic for a night. I wanted them to leave this-- we’re trying to be as entertaining as possible, but shit is having an effect on all of us too, and I wanted them to have an escape, a great place to escape to.”

Fan Art of the Week: an amazing group shot, plus Marion, Yeza, and Luc! (vocaz on Twitter)

On choosing Essek over Trent, Liam: “It would have been so interesting and awful and great! Essek and Astrid and Eodwulf are everything that Bren used to be attracted to that are terrible for him. Essek, hopefully he can with time find a way out of the hole that he dug himself into, but it was only two months ago where he was found out and his ambitions came crashing down around him. Long-term, I have high hopes for him, but I think it’s going to be hard.” In contrast, Astrid and Eodwulf are still “deep in the shit. It would have been really hard to navigate, but fun to play at the table. We made the right choice with what we went with. Essek’s just getting started, and Caleb doesn’t trust him entirely, because he was burned so hard not too long ago. He’s still more trustworthy than the other three. So it’s the better choice. While Caleb has all these ties on the other side, they’re really fucking dangerous. So if you have to choose, you choose Essek. But fuck that die.” Sam: “Veth, much like Sam Riegel, makes instant decisions about whether to trust someone or not and sticks to it forever. Astrid, 100% trust. Eodwulf, 100% distrust. Essek, completely distrust. I still don’t think he’s a good guy. Ikithon? Trust. 100%. Because you know where he’s coming forward, you know what he wants. I still want him dead, but I trust him.”

On Veth’s post-adventuring plans: “Veth is probably still too in it right now to think about what comes next. I, Sam Riegel, have a good idea of what I want Veth to do post-campaign.” Brian: “Maybe you shouldn’t tell us. Save it for the show!” Sam: “All she knows is she can’t do this anymore. It’s very unhealthy to be battle-wounded every other day. It’s fun for a while, but college has to end at some point, and she’s gotta go home.”

On Frumpkin changing appearance and returning to the Feywild: “I don’t know what I’m going to do, but the way it feels now for Caleb is that he feels too enmeshed in everything that has happened, and too much good has happened, and too much needs to happened, that that really narcissistic, selfish goal has the risk of harming everything else, which is more important. And that’s how he looks at it now. So he’s gearing towards letting everything from the beginning of the campaign, and where he started, go, and trying to figure out what use he’s going to be now and what he’s going to do if they’re not all dead. If Matt throws that shit down, I don’t know what I will do, I think about it a lot. But turning Frumpkin white and saying you’re free either way is him preparing to let go of everything he’s been holding on to for a really long time. He’s addicted to that idea that he can fix himself, and we’ll see if that hard choice gets presented, what he might do. But where he stands now, he doesn’t think that’s going to be reality, and he sees a way that he can be of use that he never really anticipated before, so he’s slowly shifting gears towards living with the pain he was trying to remove.”

On the last request scene and confidence heading into Aeor, Sam: “I feel like that’s a good request. I think all of us realized that if we die, that probably bodes badly for the world. I feel like all of us are at a point now as characters and as friends, that the first order of business would be to take care of everybody else’s shit, although we probably have different ideas of how to do that.” Liam: “I want the Empire to be healed, Caleb has all these memories of his parents and what they wanted for the world, and he wants that too. It’s clearly not in place now, the system needs to be broken and replaced. That could be a part of Caleb’s sunset. I don’t want Caleb to die, so maybe he can work on that after. As everything starts to shake out and we start heading towards our destiny, Caleb’s just free-floating. He’s not even going after the same thing he started for. So he’s looking at Veth’s family, and Luc specifically, and seeing that’s me, that’s a little boy in the Empire.”

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

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romeoandjulietyouwish · 2 years

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"You want to get to them, you go through me." PolyNein

tw- fantasy racism

It's not unusual for Essek to accompany Yasha to the farmer's market in the mornings. She always buys him an orange to eat as they walk and in turn, he uses his magic to help her carry the groceries. On this morning in particular, Beau tags along with them since she has the day off from the Soul.

With the two of them, Essek thought he would be a third wheel, but he's far from it. Beau has an arm around his shoulders as they walk, and Yasha asks his opinion on different tomatoes and fruit. He really does love them, not in the same way that he loves Caleb. But since becoming part of their relationship, his affection for them has only grown.

"Essek," Yasha asks softly, "do you think Jester would like a carrot cake?"

Essek smiles, "I think she likes every kind of cake. Caleb adores carrot cake."

Yasha smiles and pays for the small cake, handing it to Essek to put into his wristpocket. As they start walking to the next vendor, Beau hooks her arm through Yasha's leaning up to kiss her cheek.

And then, their perfect morning comes crashing to a halt as a man walks by, takes one look at Essek and Yasha and spits, "Go back where you came from, Xhorhas scum."

Before Essek has time to react, Beau lurches forward and punches the man, hard. "What the fuck did you just say to them?" Beau demands harshly. "Because if you want to get to them, you have to go through me." Yasha clutches Essek's shoulder, pulling him back.

The man clutches his face, Essek can see blood in his mouth. He spits the blood at Beau's feet, "I said they're scum who are sullying our streets-"

Beau decks him again, this time hard enough to send the man falling to the ground. She shakes out her hand and then turns back to Essek and Yasha. "Come on." She takes Essek's hand and Yasha's arm and with the two of them still stunned into silence, begins guiding them home.

Essek knew that the Empire was rampant with propaganda, just like the Dynasty, but he didn't realize that he would ever face it head on. Beau keeps her hand in his, squeezing reassuringly as they walk home. When they get to the front door, Yasha pauses, "Wait."

Essek looks at her for the first time since they left the market and sees fear written on her face, he know it's reflected on his own.

"Thank you, Beau," Yasha says softly. "Thank you for doing that."

"I'd do anything to protect you," Beau tells her and then he looks to Essek, "both of you." When Essek seems a bit surprised, Beau rolls her eyes and pulls him into a hug. "You're family, Essek. We look after our own."

"Thank you," Essek hugs her back. His relationship with Beau has always been odd, but now he knows that she really does love him.

"Come on," Beau pulls back and opens the front door. "I'll make you guys some tea. Not as good as Cad, but I'm getting better at it."

As she disappears into the house, Yasha takes Essek's arm, "Are you alright?"

"I will be," Essek smiles a little and pulls her into the house after him.

#my fic #critical role #mighty nein #polynein

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intergalacticwanderer · 3 years

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It happened faster than any of them could react.

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

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

But something else started to happen.

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

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

The fingers began to disintegrate right in front of him.

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

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

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

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

Sensation and clarity of thought slammed into him.

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

“Jester...?”

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I ask you all a question?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Veth bristled. “Hey!”

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

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

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

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

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

(Sometimes.)

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

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

Kingsley gave a start. “Wait, really?”

Fjord nodded. “Really.”

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

“Kingsley.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, how would you describe it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Caduceus gestured towards her. “You go ahead.”

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

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

***

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

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

The woman was wearing a red coat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One final set of cards was placed. Revealed.

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

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

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

“Kingsley.”

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

Her concern didn’t fade.

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

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

She tilted her head, gaze growing sharp.

“There are if you want there to be.”

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

Three names, he realized.

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

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

“... maybe not.”

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

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

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

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

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

The shuffling of the cards stopped.

“Do you want to know that answer?”

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

“Yes.”

He wasn’t going to take it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why me?”

He’d just said that out loud. Fuck.

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

“Why not you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mollymauk was... him?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She glowed a little brighter, surroundings starting to fade.

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

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

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

He closed his eyes, for a single blink-

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

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

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

“See! I told you, he’s fine.”

Jester gasped. “Kingsley!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See! He did do something!”

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

“T-the Moonweaver.”

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

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

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

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

“It went badly,” Fjord said bluntly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What did you learn?” Yasha asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kingsley hesitated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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