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vexing-imogen · 3 years

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the persistence of 5/?

read from beginning | read on ao3

It’s well past dawn when Vex finally wakes, far later than she usually sleeps. It’s Percy’s doing, she’s sure of it, and she’s grateful for it. The pounding headache from yesterday has lessened to a dull ache and she no longer feels so dreadfully nauseous. She’s alone in the room, but she can hear Percy and Keyleth’s voices drifting up the stairs.

She dresses quickly, favoring a tunic and leggings over any of the fancy dresses in her wardrobe. (And it’s still so hard to believe that any of this is actually hers. Even the simple clothes she’s wearing are nicer than anything she remembers owning since Syngorn.) She moves to the vanity to attempt to wrangle her hair, but she’s distracted by the myriad of letters that are strewn across the surface.

The first one she examines is from someone named Zahra. They’re mildly flirtatious, they call her darling or dearest every other paragraph, and they practically beg her to come visit as soon as possible. She feels the urge to agree, despite having no knowledge of this person.

She moves on to the small stack of letters all from Velora. The most recent one speaks of their father, and how he’s all but given her permission to come stay in Whitestone for the summer. Her penmanship suffers for her excitement, her adolescent cursive almost unreadable in places. Her tone grows more solemn towards the end of the letter, where she admits that Syldor refuses to speak to her about Vax, and would Vex mind terribly telling her some stories about their brother?

Most shocking of all, there are letters from Syldor, too. They’re stiff and awkward, as if he doesn’t know what to say to her beyond the expected pleasantries. He tells her of Velora and Devanna, asks after Percy and Vesper, and occasionally someone called Cassandra. (Percy’s sister? Is she remembering that right?) He even asks after Trinket once. But nowhere in any of his letters does he ask after...

“Vex’ahlia?”

She jumps at the sound of Percy’s voice, her hand flying to her chest, and sees him wince in the mirror.

“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You’re fine,” she says, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t hear you come in. Lost in thought, I guess.”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

She half turns in her chair, holds up the letter she’d been reading. “I’m on speaking terms with my father?”

“Ah, yes, that.” He hesitates. “It’s...complicated. I don’t particularly like him, and there are some days where I don’t think you do either, but you’re both trying?”

“I see,” she mutters, though she really doesn’t.

He comes up beside her, reaches for her hairbrush. “Would you like some help with that, dear?” he asks, gesturing to the wild mess her hair always is in the mornings.

He’s trying to change the subject, and she lets him. For now. “You know how to braid hair?”

Percy nods, starts to gently brush the tangles out. “Vax taught me,” he explains. “When you and I first started a relationship. He was leaving, and he wanted to make sure I could take care of you.”

She lets him work in silence for a while before she brings it up. “He never mentions Vax.” Their eyes meet in the mirror. “My father. He never asks about him or sends a message along for him. Velora says he refuses to speak of him.”

Percy sighs, his eyes dropping back to her hair. “Like I said, it’s complicated.”

Vex frowns, trying to puzzle it out. “Vax doesn’t speak to our father.”

“No.”

“But I do?” He nods. “That doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

He sighs again. “I know.”

There’s something she’s missing, she can feel it. Some piece of the puzzle that would make all of this make sense, if only she could remember. She growls, and Percy pauses in tying off her braid.

“What’s wrong?”

She almost laughs, because it’s such a pointless question. “I just want this fixed.”

There’s a commotion downstairs that can only be Grog and Scanlan. Percy gives her a tense smile. “Well, here’s your chance.”

They keep eye contact in the mirror for just a minute longer, neither of them willing to voice what they’re both thinking.

What if this doesn’t work?

=============================================================

They find Pike and the others gathered in the parlor. There’s an energy buzzing in the air, anxious anticipation. Vex can barely hear her friends greetings over her heartbeat, sounding like a drum in her ears. Pike is sitting cross-legged on the floor, a pouch of diamond dust open in front of her.

Pike smiles up at her, pats the floor, indicating for her to sit. Once she does, Pike moves up onto her knees and cradles Vex’s face in her hands. “Are you ready?”

She’s not. She’s really not. She’s scared, and she isn’t sure what scares her more; remembering nothing or remembering everything. But she can’t say that. Not here, with everyone watching her, waiting for her to make what should be the easiest decision in the world.

She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and focuses on Pike’s hands, gentle and cool against her skin. “Ready.”

She hears Pike mutter the incantation, feels her palms grow hot as the magical energy flows through them. She can even feel the magic flowing into her mind, probing gently, searching for something to latch onto so it can clear whatever blockage is there and start to heal her. It probes again, a little more insistently, and if magic could have emotions, she’d say it was frustrated.

Pike curses under her breath, and Vex’s heart sinks. Thankfully, Scanlan asks the question so she doesn’t have to.

“Pikey, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know!” There’s an edge to her voice, a hint of panic that sends a chill down Vex’s spine. “It’s not working.”

“What do you mean, it’s not working?” Percy demands.

“I don’t know, Percy!” Pike yells, sounding as close to tears as Vex has ever heard her. “The spell should be working, but it’s not, and I don’t know why.”

Vex opens her eyes, fighting back a whimper when she sees her friend’s tear-stained face. “Pike?”

The gnome takes a deep breath, steadies herself, then reaches out for Vex again, her expression determined. “I’m gonna try again, okay?”

Vex nods, sending up a silent prayer to whichever god might be listening. Please let this work. I get it, I know what’s worse, now. I want to remember.

There’s a moment where she thinks it’s working. The magic snags onto something, like a sweater on a loose nail. But just as she thinks it’s about to unravel, the thread snaps.

“Damnit!” Pike rocks back on her heels, composes herself. “I’m gonna try one more time, Vex. We’re so close.”

She doesn’t fight it, lets Pike try the spell again, but she knows deep down it won’t work. And, sure enough, it fails again, the magic scrabbling to find purchase on anything before it finally withdraws from her mind.

“Pike.” Her voice is hollow, defeated. She can barely see through the tears that are falling. “Darling, I don’t think it’s going to work.”

Pike lets out a noise somewhere between a scream and a wail. “I’m sorry, Vex,” she sobs. “I’m so sorry.” She runs from the room, and a few moments later they hear the door slam behind her.

“Should we...” Grog starts.

Scanlan cuts him off. “I’ll go.” He pauses at Vex’s side before he leaves, but he says nothing. He squeezes her shoulder, then follows Pike out of the house.

The only noise in the room for the next several minutes is Percy pacing and Vex’s quiet sobs. Keyleth finally breaks the silence timidly.

“Vex? Do you want me to try?”

She shakes her head, wiping away her tears. Her gaze drifts to the front door. “I think I need some air.”

=============================================================

Pike runs until she’s exhausted, gasping for air, struggling to stay upright. She’s out of the city, that much she knows. In the Parchwood she realizes when she finally falls to her hands and knees. She punches the ground once, twice for good measure, screaming her frustration into the mid-morning air.

A cluster of startled birds draws her attention to the tree in front of her; solid and sturdy, and probably much more satisfying to hit than the dirt. She wishes she had her gauntlets with her, but they’re back in Westruun with her good armor. She pushes herself to her feet and lets out another wordless scream.

She punches the tree once. Twice. Three times. Each one punctuated with a cry of frustration. She feels something pop in her hand on the fourth punch, and then a sickening crunch on the fifth. She doesn’t bother looking at the mess she’s made of her hand, just casts a quick cure wounds and screams to the heavens.

“Why didn’t it work?”

She finds a good sized rock on the ground and chucks it across the clearing, screaming again. It breaks a branch off of a small tree with a satisfying snap.

“It was supposed to work!”

She goes to punch the tree again, but something stops her hand before it can make contact. A small, purple hand, Scanlan’s mage hand to be precise, is providing a cushion between her fist and the tree.

“Pikey...”

She swallows hard, turns to face him with tears streaming down her face, and bruised, bloodied knuckles. She hiccups. “It was supposed to heal her, Scanlan.” Her voice breaks on his name, and she’s sinking to the ground sobbing.

He holds her gently as she falls apart on the forest floor. He’s mostly silent, content to rub her back, stroke her hair, press the occasional kiss to her temple. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs once she’s mostly cried herself out.

She sniffles. “How?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Have you tried asking Sarenrae?”

“No,” she says sullenly. “I kind of just screamed at her.”

He chuckles. “I’m sure she understands.”

She smiles sheepishly. “Enough for me to try a divine intervention, you think?”

“It couldn’t hurt.” He stands, kisses her on the forehead. “I’ll meet you back at Casa de Rolo. I have an idea that I want to run by Percy.”

She watches him go with a small smile, then settles herself in to meditate and pray.

Sarenrae, if you’re there, if you’re still listening. I need your help. Vex needs your help.

The clouds break, and a sunbeam shines directly down on Pike. She hears her goddess’s voice, warm and gentle in her mind.

What can I do for you, my child?

My friend Vex lost a chunk of her memories, and my magic can’t bring them back. I need you to heal her.

I’m afraid I can’t do that, Pike.

What? Why not?

Memories are not part of my domain. I cannot restore your friend’s memories to her, but I know the one who can. If you trust me, I can direct your path.

What do I have to do?

#critical role #critfic #vox machina #perc'ahlia #vex'ahlia #percy de rolo #cw unintentional self harm

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thedragonslibrary · 4 years

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Is it possible to be blocked like magick or energy wise? I do not know how to put it in words but sometimes I feel like there is something that i should connect to or should be able to do but I am not. Maybe I am not idk well practiced enough but it sometimes feels like I am running against a glass wall. Maybe I Idk man. I am just really frustrated. I cant really give examples just everytime I do something magick related it feels like running against a wall and it makes me wanna cry. Sorry

Yes, of course it’s possible to be blocked!

To clarify, your first statement about feeling as though you should be able to “connect” to something is a common beginner issue. It may simply be that you haven’t found the thing you’re supposed to connect to yet - whether that’s opening your third eye and being able to talk to your guides, finding the deity and/or pantheon you connect most to in a religious manner, or simply opening your psychic awareness fully enough to feel the energies around you. The best advice I can give is to experiment. Try everything, and don’t hold yourself back!

When I was a beginner witch, I tried everything from Wicca to demonolatry to Christian witchery, from reiki to hexing and cursing, from psychopomp work and shadow work and light work and everything you can imagine. If you can think of it, I probably tried it in some way. Only by putting yourself out there in as many avenues and paths as you possibly can, will you find what works for you. If something doesn’t work, doesn’t fit or “feel right,” put it away and move on. Read everything you can - on Tumblr, in books, in every single resource you can find. It took me probably five or six years of exploration to figure out what generally “worked” for me, and I still feel like I’m learning and discovering new outlets for my magical expression.

An extra “something” is not for everyone. Often in magical practices, you are the source of your own power. Sure, crystals and herbs and grounding and gods help, but ultimately the magic is coming from you. You might not necessarily need an extra “thing.” Let your magic be intuitive, don’t let books or Tumblr bloggers tell you how to do your thing step-by-step. Take spells or rituals and modify them to fit your needs - that is how they’ll be most powerful and useful for you.

But back to the topic of blockages, if you have already had magical abilities previously: I have gone through blockages myself, and they are exactly what you described here: frustrating, like hitting a wall. Sometimes it feels as though all your “power” has been taken away, and you’re left without your previous magical agency. You might have the thought that perhaps you were just making everything up all along, that maybe you’ve been deluding yourself. Trust me, you didn’t, and things will get better!

In my experience, there are two general types of blocks you can have. I’ll outline them for you and how they can be worked through.

The first is a bit simpler, and is more like an art block. Lots of magic-users go through periods of this softer, mental blockage at some point or another on their path. It can be sometimes referred to as a Fallow Period, which comes from a similar phrase in farming used to refer to when a partition of soil is meant to rest for a season or two to regain its fertility.

A Fallow Period can arise from burnout, especially from outside sources creating stress in your life.

Magic, especially psychic and spirit work, is infinitely more difficult when you are stressed, going through a rough mental health period, or when you are physically ill.

Fallow Periods can also be caused through divine intervention - your spirit guides or deities may have decided that you need to take a break to focus on real life, or to focus on taking care of yourself for a little while.

Blockages of this nature eventually right themselves, but it can take time - it can last anywhere from a few months to over a year.

The best thing to do when you’re experiencing a fallow period like this is to not force it. You are only going to frustrate yourself if you continue to attempt to perform magically and have little to no results. Additionally, you’re going to create a deadly cycle of feeling disappointed in yourself, and eventually burn out so hard you won’t want to do magic at all anymore.

Instead, take some time to create: write poetry, draw, or paint. Write devotional poetry. If you want to do magical work, work on your grimoire or book of shadows. Focus on practical magic you can do with your hands - cooking, creating items with intent, cleansing and clearing your home.

Take time to meditate and perform self-care. Perform practical, easy meditations like the simple, free ones in the Headspace app, or find guided meditations for free on YouTube that bring you into fun, brightly colored astral spaces. Take baths and imagine all of your troubles washing away down the drain when you’re finished. Give yourself room to heal and just feel good about yourself.

When you feel ready to move out of your Fallow Period, it will come very naturally. Like an urge to pick up a witchcraft book or to astral travel suddenly. Don’t worry about easing back into it - while taking it slow might be good for some, it’s not for everyone. If you’re really excited to get back into magic, and you’re being urged to do it right now, go ahead and do it!

The other type of blockage is a physical, energetic blockage. These are usually sudden-onset conditions. If one day you are performing just fine magically, and the next you wake up and you can’t feel any of your sixth senses, and you are not physically sick or particularly more stressed out than normal, you probably have a physical energetic blockage.

Ensure first that it’s an energetic blockage. Perform a reading on yourself, check your energy centers, figure out how you’re feeling physically. Meditation goes a long way here, as well as visualizing your energy moving through your body. Does it seem to stop anywhere? Likewise, do you feel extremely hopeless and drained energetically for no discernible, tangible reason (i.e. depression or a recent traumatic experience)? Can you not even muster up the motivation to check yourself? Then you probably have an energetic blockage.

Find an energy healer in physical proximity to you. Trust me when I say that it is not enough to go to the local Hand & Stone and ask for a reiki massage (I have tried this for you already, and please believe me when I say it’s not going to solve your problems). Distance healings do work and are worth it, but in my personal experience physical healings tend to be much more powerful when it comes to dismantling blockages in this way.

Ask around at your local metaphysical stores. Find someone who is a reiki master or another type of energy healer, who has great reviews outside of what’s posted on their website and who has a great deal of experience. Ask them if they have unedited testimonials anywhere they can share with you (such as Google reviews).

Ask what their process is, ask to see their healing space, ask them what physical tools they use in their session. Ask them if they’d be willing to charge a small fee for them to examine you and figure out what’s going on (don’t expect them to do something like that for free). Remember that they should never suggest that they can heal physical ailments or claim that their services replace allopathic medicine - they should only focus on your energetic issues.

Explain to them that you feel blocked energetically and that this is exactly what you are looking to be treated for - psychics and healers are not mind readers, and they cannot help you if they’re not told what they need to fix.

Pay attention to your gut and what feels right. Even in a blocked state, you always have decent access to your intuition.

I won’t lie, you will likely need to shell out a good amount of money for this. A good healer worth their salt most likely won’t charge you less than $60 for an hour session.

If you don’t feel some kind of energetic release during your healing session, mention that to your healer. Since you’ve already told them about your issue, they may be able to give advice as to why you didn’t feel any specific change, as everyone’s process is different and the healer you’ve chosen to work with is going to have the best understanding over the situation, after you. Again, pay attention to your gut. Give the healing a couple of days to set in, and make sure to drink plenty of water and pay attention to how you feel.

When I personally dealt with my own physical energy blockage, when it was finally healed it felt like a dam breaking and all of my energy flowing back into my body. It felt like I had had one of my senses shut off, and for the switch to finally be turned back on. Not everyone is going to feel this way, but if you’ve been blocked for a particularly long time, it may feel very strong and overwhelming to have yourself be un-blocked.

Whatever your situation is, I hope this post was helpful! Good luck on finding your solution!

#witchcraft #energy work #fallow period #spirit work #blockages #energy blockages #energy blocks #healing #energy healing #energy healer #talymaly

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moonblooch · 5 years

Link

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Major Character Death

Category: Gen

Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series)

Relationship: Beauregard & Nott & Caleb Widogast

Characters: Nott (Critical Role), Beauregard (Critical Role), Caleb Widogast, mentions of other characters

Additional Tags: Mentions of Character Death, Time Travel, rated teen for some cursing, zemnian has google translate grammar rules, initially this was just a fix it fic, but then i had a theory, i'm being a bit vague with the means of time travel, but only because the timline wouldn't let them be a high enough level to get wish yet

Language:English

An alternate timeline where Lorenzo lives, and the thurviving three travel back in time in order to get the jump on him.

“I don’t like this.” Beau pouted, holding out the gauzy fabric which had once been her jacket. “You’re sure you can’t do this again Nott?”

Nott shook her head.

“If you’re supposed to be the Moonweaver it’s probably better if your voice is, well, not like mine.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your voice.”

“If you say so. It’s hardly godly though, is it?”

Beau reflexively tried to protest, but bit her tongue when Nott simply shook her head again.

“Ugh, fine. I’ll be the Moonweaver. I guess I’m the only one who can carry him anyway.”

They had found the circus a day prior, though the tiny collection of dilapidated tents barely held up to her memory of the place. Maybe she was remembering through rose tinted glasses, but the show which had united the Mighty Nein seemed practically grandiose in comparison. Said tents were now five hundred or so feet away through the trees.

The night was moonless, which Caleb had said was perfect for their… series of things they were going to do (so called because she knew that the moment the word ‘plan’ reared its head they were fucked). After all, what better way to convince the people that the moon was walking among them than if they couldn’t see one in the sky?

Molly still hadn’t woken. They had found him burning up with a fierce fever the morning after the Traveller’s visit. On the few occasions he had stirred he had done little more than moan, sometimes in common, sometimes in infernal. They didn’t have the healing potions to spare to help, the few they did have were too, well, they were too good. Beau didn’t like the state they had to keep him in and she could tell that the others didn’t either, but healing him too much ran the risk of Molly remembering something about them. The last thing they needed on top of everything else was another time paradox to deal with.

Nott had been doing her best, and succeeding, in keeping Molly stable, but she was still grappling with her new powers. And weren’t those powers something? All it had taken was one touch and some of the worst of Molly’s injuries had begun to close. His ankle was still busted, but the lacerations covering him were beginning to look more and more like the faded scars he had worn when they had last seen him.

Beau pulled her goggles down over her eyes and looked over to Caleb, who was toying with a glow worm.

“You nearly done there Caleb?”

“Ja, ja.”

“You’re sure we can’t just let him loose?” Nott asked. “He’d probably just follow one of the lights.”

“Believe me, I did not want to do it this way.” He replied. “If it looked like he could still walk, that is the way that we would do this. This way is our best chance at getting him safe.”

Nott nodded, slipping the ropes from Molly’s body with disconcerting ease and coiling them for safe storage. Molly didn’t move, he barely even seemed to be breathing. Beau crouched, then slung him over her shoulder.

“Ah, I would perhaps suggest that you do not carry him like that.” Caleb suggested, producing a battered length of leather from the depths of one of his pockets. “It looks careless.”

“You think I should carry him bridal style?” Beau found herself asking with a certain level of horror. Future Molly would have suffocated laughing at something like that. “I won’t be able to fight if I do that.”

“If all goes well you will not have to fight anyone. And I am certain he will understand if you have to drop him, you can apologise when we have him back for good. Now would you rather have lights or the ability to fly?”

Flying sounded really cool. She’d only seen Caleb use it once before, rather appropriately, on Yasha. Yasha had shot into the air, unfurling her wings once she reached the highest point she could, then dived to slam the sharp end of her sword directly between the eyes of the dragon they were fighting. Beau had never had much faith in the gods, but watching that as she bled out on the ground was perhaps the closest thing she had had to a religious experience. Or maybe that had been the concussion she had at the time talking.

All but a small part of her cried out in protest as she said “maybe the lights? Or am I glowing enough already?”

“Looks pretty glowy to me.” Nott said, looking up briefly from the rope she was still shoving into one of their bags.

“But still a no to the flying for now, thanks Caleb.” Beau continued, “Save your magic for getting us out of there.”

It was only practical; she wasn’t an experienced flyer. The last thing that she needed was to drop Molly on his head from a great height, no matter how fantastic of a punchline that would make later on.

She ran through the series of events that were about to happen. She was going to walk into camp and, using every bit of repressed posture training her parents had made her go through to look regal and holy, demand that Gustav was brought to her. She was going to spout some bullshit about divine destiny, dump Molly on him, then get the fuck out of there before anyone asked any questions.

“Ready to go?” she asked the others, swinging Molly into both of her arms with as little grace as she could manage.

“Ja.”

“As ready as we’re going to be.”

“Great.” She replied. “And the code word for get me the fuck out of there is?”

“Mollymauk.” Two voices chorused back to her.

None of them liked it; it almost seemed like they were taking a choice away from him. But they couldn’t run the risk of something even more stupid sounding, then meeting Molly later only to find that he was actually called Uno. It wasn’t worth breaking the timeline over.

Beau re-adjusted her grip, trying to support Molly’s head without impaling herself on one of his horns.

“Let’s do this.”

Caleb trailed behind Beau, making as little noise as possible. Only the two of them had ventured into the woods, Nott instead leading their horses west to their pre-arranged meeting place further along the road. She had tapped him on the arm with a whisper of “anweledig” before leaving, meaning that for all appearances Beau was walking alone through the trees. Or the Moonweaver was; hopefully none of the circus had the power to see through the illusion. He was her way out (because running away was the only thing he seemed to succeed at lately).

“Caleb?” Beau whispered.

Under another set of circumstances he might have stayed silent (and the temptation was still there) but they had fifty six minutes and twenty two seconds until Nott’s spell wore off. They didn’t have time to fuck around.

“Ja?” he answered, voice as quiet as he could get away with.

“If I start spouting a load of bullshit could you, I don’t know, tap me on the shoulder or something?”

“Gods are prone to such things, as I understand it.” Caleb replied. “Certainly if everything that Jester has told us about the Traveller is true.”

“Yeah. Guess we’ll find out from Nott soon enough.”

Another thread to complicate their cat’s cradle of a situation; apparently whatever entity Jester had been praying to had taken a shine to Nott. Divine intervention on their behalf was not a thing to be sniffed at, but that assumed that the Traveller even was a god to begin with. He did not want to doubt Jester, but green cloaks were easily come by, and she had not communed openly with him in the presence of their group that Caleb could recall. He could think of a handful of spells which would produce the effect of an omnipresent shadow over one’s face, even he could have achieved that, and an illusion or teleportation, maybe an artefact which gave the wearer invisibility, would give the effect of appearing from nowhere.

But that left the troubling question of where exactly Jester had been drawing her power from.

They were close enough to the camp now that he could see the firelight flickering on the trunks of the trees around them. He barely dared to breathe when they could finally see the clearing.

“Who goes there?”

Beau could probably have gotten away with dropping Molly at the feet of whoever was nearest then running, but instead she stepped into the light, head held high, to face the owner of that voice. Caleb kept his hand hovering a whisper away from her shoulder, ready to get them out the second something went wrong.

A figure approached them, a shadow against the firelight. Upon closer inspection, Caleb recognised him as the man who called himself Gustav Fletching. He was holding a crossbow in a loose grip, not pointed at Beau yet but Caleb could see that it was primed and loaded.

“Who are you?” he repeated, shifting his stance.

“I go by a great many names.” Beau replied, pitching her voice to sound softer and more sultry than usual. A good start.

“Though you have no need to concern yourself with any of them, I rarely do. And I do not intend to trouble you for long.”

Slightly less good, but it sounded lofty enough that Gustav might have been buying it. He did not look like he was, but he could have been.

“Why are you here?”

Caleb hoped that he was imagining the way Gustav’s fingers tensed on the crossbow.

“I require a safe resting place for this one.” Beau nodded towards Molly, her trailing white hair floating upwards as she did so. “My influence is tragically limited in these parts, or I would care for him myself. I have done what I can, but my power wanes even now.”

She took a step forward and Gustav finally levelled the crossbow at her face.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I’m not a charity. There’ll be half a dozen camps along this road, so you can turn right around and keep walking; maybe you’ll stand a better chance with them.”

Beau remained silent for a few seconds, and though Caleb couldn’t see her face her posture read as tense. He let his fingers brush her shoulder, just to let her know that he was still at her back. With his other hand he reached for the copper wire tucked into his lapel, mind already buzzing with suggestions.

“Go north along this road and you shall find a small grouping of trees, within which you shall find the grave that I retrieved this one from. I could observe nothing of value there, but your mortal eyes may lead you to something which your kind hold greater value in than mine does.” Beau spoke, squaring her shoulders.

There is no gold in that grave, they both know it, but if they can convince Gustav that Molly is worth keeping then that won’t matter.

“When you say ‘mortals’, you mean what exactly?”

Beau apparently choose to ignore this question, which was likely for the best Caleb thought. Gods, much like people who are well endowed, should never insist upon their status to others as it tends to bring said status into doubt.

“I have seen that your fate is entwined with his.” She says instead, keeping a sleepy quality to her voice. “And this one is important to me, so I will entrust his care to you for a time.”

“Say I agree to take him, then what?” Gustav asked, raising his chin. “What’s to stop me from putting him out of his misery as soon as you’re gone?”

“My darling,” Beau replied after a beat, and despite the severity of their circumstances Caleb had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from laughing at how unnatural those words sounded in her voice, “I have said before that my influence in these parts is limited, but it is hardly non-existent. As long as there is a moon in the sky I will be watching over him. I will know if you allow any ill to befall him, and I will not be pleased.”

The crossbow, which had been inching gradually lower, swung back to eye level.

“Are you threatening me?”

“Not yet.” Beau answered. Caleb mentally cursed, then dug into a pocket for a firefly. This was becoming too confrontational for comfort.

“You have not yet given me reason to.” Beau continued. “And I would like to think that you never will. The gift that this one has for understanding the fates will serve you well in future, and you do not strike me as the kind to squander such wonderful things.”

The crossbow finally lowered, though Gustav did not disarm it.

“Will you come back for him?”

“Certainly.”

Gustav shook his head, though the gesture was clearly more self-deprecating than anything else. Caleb dropped the firefly back into his pocket, then returned his hand to Beau’s shoulder.

“Very well then, you can leave him here. I’ll expect appropriate compensation when you come back though.”

“He will have provided that to you tenfold by the time we meet again, but should you feel that something is lacking I shall be happy to supply it.” Beau knelt, laying Molly on the ground as gently as she could manage without seeming ungraceful. She trailed her fingers almost fondly along one of his horns before standing again.

“Sleep well, Mollymauk.”

Taking his cue, Caleb grabbed her shoulder and pulled. With little more than a whispered “Maßtür”, they were gone.

#hey look ma i updated something #critical role #critrole #critical role campaign two #fanfic

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