the thing with feathers by RoseThorne
Time Travel fixit
18 chapters (complete)
44K
The boy in question suddenly staggered, dropping his sword.
“Wei Wuxian! Back in formation!”
Instead he clutched at his head and screamed, coughing up blood.
She found herself rushing onto the training field before she realized it.
“Too young,” he muttered. “Too much. Can’t. Seal.”
In a moment of despair and desperation after a Night Hunt that goes extremely wrong, Wei Wuxian sends himself back through time.
Wei Ying does not remember anything after an attack of resentful energy on the training grounds. Lan Qiren is asked for healing assistance because of the resentful attack and brings his nephews along with Lan healers because Wei Ying had called out for Lan Zhan.
the thing with feathers spans the course of several months, focusing on the start of Wei Ying's recovery. It is told from multiple points of view.
I enjoyed reading about a much younger Wei Ying and Lan Zhan, time at Lotus Pier, learning more about what Wei Ying was doing in his first year there.
Most importantly, things change not because Wei Ying enacts change, but because of how Yu Ziyuan responds throughout Wei Ying's recovery.
The title comes from a poem by Emily Dickinson "Hope" is the thing with feathers and is the first in a series of works collected as Hope.
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the only secret people keep is immortality ; [zowl]
@oh-heartlessman
Someone was on to them.
No, Zira did not actually think that Dipper and Eilonwy had much to do with it, which was why they were still alive. They must have been compelled or spelled or some such. By themselves, they never would have figured out that Zira had the grimoire in her possession. She was furious with Kovu, as he was the one had brought it to her. Something had gone wrong and now their entire mission was hanging in the balance.
Normally, Zira did not like dealing with sorcerers. Not because she was against working with others, oh no. Zira knew to cast her net wide and pull in as many allies, witting or unwitting, to assist in her plans. She was not so proud as to refuse help when offered. Sorcerers were the proud ones. They were proud and powerful and that made them dangerous. Volatile.
However, they were also useful and there were certain things that she could not do without their help.
Like a charm to conceal her family’s magic. It was an important step to take. Especially considering Zira knew that Arthur knew that something was off about her. There would be no explaining her being here otherwise. He was not a stupid man. Which meant it would not belong before he found out. And Zira could not have him discovering her weaknesses.
After careful consideration of the sorcerers at her disposal, Zira found herself in front of Howl’s door. She recalled the rumors of years past, where Howl had broken dark curses (and everyone knew the only way to break a dark curse was with more darkness) and how he had been friends with the dragon sorceress who had lived in these parts. A shame she wasn’t around, Zira would much more willingly deal with her.
She knocked sharply and when the door opened, her smile was sparkling.
“Good evening, Master Pendragon.” The name made her want to roll her eyes or choke on her tongue, but she kept a smile on her face. “My name is Zira Blackwell and I would like to enlist your services, if you would be so kind.”
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Boston, Salem & MA playlist
Ever been to Boston and Salem in Massachusetts? I hope to someday soon. Salem, Bruins, Cape Cod, Edgar Allen Poe, the history!
Many great bands hail from Boston and Massachusetts, like Dinosuar Jr, Aerosmith and Guerilla Toss...ugh! So many bands. Converge, Isis, Cave-In, Pixies, Magic Circle....Not to mention the songs about Salem, MA and the witch trials, Edgar Allen Poe, Emily Dickinson and even Lizzy Bordon (in RI section).
The history of this region is fascinating. The Pilgrims and the Boston Tea Party etc. Many songs about this period of time. Hope you enjoy this playlist.
Also I threw in a little Rhode Island and New Hampshire too.
Remember people, live life deliciously!
001 Times Of Grace - Strength In Numbers
002 Boston - Peace of Mind
003 Dinosaur Jr - Freak Scene
004 Pixies - trompe le monde
005 Cheers TV show - Opening
006 Aerosmith - Beyond Beautiful
007 The Byrds - Boston
008 Dave Loggins - Please Come To Boston
009 The Sensational Alex Harvey Band - Boston Tea Party
010 Buffalo Tom - Crutch
011 Escuela Grind - No Worship
012 Made Out Of Babies - Grimace (The Ruiner)
013 dropkick murphys -for boston
014 Lemonheads - Hate Your Friends
015 The Cars - Drive
016 Morphine - Honey White
017 The Breeders - Cannonball
018 Isis - Ghost Key
019 Better Than Ezra - Normal Town
020 Killswitch Engage - Starting Over
021 Converge - Sadness Comes Home
022 Grief - Come To Grief
023 Aerosmith - Draw The Line
024 Dinosaur Jr. - Watch the Corners
025 Friend & Lover - Boston is a lovely town
026 Magic Circle - Departed Souls
027 All Pigs Must Die - Hungry Wolf, Easy Prey
028 Shadows Fall - The Light That Blinds
029 The Bee Gees- 'Massachusetts'
030 Belly - Feed The Tree
031 Boston - Rock and Roll Band
032 The Pixies - Planet Of Sound
033 Amanda Palmer & The Grand Theft Orchestra - Massachusetts Avenue
034 Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch - Good Vibrations
035 The Rosebuds - Back To Boston
036 Cave In - Inspire
037 Pearl Jam - Brain of J.
038 Tool - Sweat
039 Adam Ant - Bright Lights Black Leather
040 Tristania - My Lost Lenore
041 Nevermore - This Godless Endeavor
042 The Kingston Trio - MTA
043 Ylvis - Massachusetts
044 Captain Beefheart - 25th Century Quaker
045 Elder - Deadweight
046 Morne - Coming Of Winter
047 Lou Reed - I Wanna Be Black
048 Lyres - Boston
049 Rotting Christ - The Raven
050 Killswitch Engage- Rose Of Sharyn
051 Macabre - Boston Strangler Albert de Salvo
052 Dar Williams - Flinty Kind of Woman
053 STEELY DAN, The Boston Rag
054 The Beach Boys - Do You Like Worms
055 The Freeze-This is Boston not LA
056 Art Gruthie - Massachusetts
057 THE CARS _ Good Times Roll
058 Richard Band - Re-Animator OST Prologue - Main Title
059 Gang Green - Skate To Hell
060 Guerilla Toss - Come Up With Me
061 Karyn Crisis' Gospel of the Witches -Salem's Wounds
062 Agoraphobic Nosebleed - Agorapocalypse now
063 the MODERN LOVERS _Roadrunner_ 1972
064 Edgar Allen Poe - Black Cat
065 Rammstein - Stein um Stein
066 The Necromancers - Salem Girl Part I
067 Orange Goblin - Sons Of Salem
068 Danny Elfman - [Sleepy Hollow OST] Main Titles
069 King Diamond - Abigail
070 The Cult - The Witch
071 Witch - Eye
072 Cavalera Conspiracy - The Crucible
073 Queens Of The Stone Age - Burn The Witch
074 Salem - Witch Burning
075 Danny Elfman - [Sleepy Hollow OST] Into The Woods (The Witch)
076 Clutch - Sucker for the Witch
077 Bewitched TV show - Theme
078 John Zorn - Witchfinder
079 Blood Ceremony - The Witch's Dance
080 Billy Talent - The dead can't Testify
081 The Misfits - Witch Hunt
082 Rob Zombie - Lords Of Salem
083 Acid Witch - Witchfynder Finder
084 King Diamond - Salem
085 The Cramps Big Black Witchcraft Rock
086 Mount Salem - Lucid
087 Sleepy Hollow TV SHow - Main Theme
088 Demons & Wizards - Beneath These Waves
089 Hexvessel - Woman of Salem
090 Cradle of Filth - Her Ghost in the Fog
091 Metal Church - Of Unsound mind
092 Lich King - Ed-209
093 Disrupt - Religion is a Fraud
094 The Witch OST - Witch's Coven
095 Fuming Mouth - Out of the Shadows
096 Abigail Williams - Acolytes
097 Clutch - Worm Drink
098 1476 - A Circle Of Hope & Despair
099 Sleepy Hollow (2014) Soundtrack
100 Pixies - All Over the World
101 Sonic Youth - New Hampshire
102 Meliah Rage - Absolute Power
103 Albert Goes West - Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds
104 Symphony X - King of Terrors
105 Alan Vega - American Dreamer
106 Van Der Graaf Generator - Pilgrims
107 ZZ Top - I Thank You
108 Walt Disney's Johnny Tremain, _The Sons of Liberty
109 Paul Simon - American Tune (LP version)
110 SAXON - Sailing to America
111 Old Man Gloom - Skullstorm
112 Mastodon - I Am Ahab
113 Patti Page - Old Cape Cod
114 Ty Seagull - Archangel Thunderbird
115 Morphine - Buena
116 Manticora - On a Sea of Grass
117 Young Widows - Old Skin
118 Hurriganes - Slippin And Slidin
119 Glacier - O World! I Remain No Longer Here.
120 Marissa Nadler - Blue Vapor
121 SEA - Penumbra
122 Vital Remains - Infidel
123 Throwing Muses - Bright Yellow Gun
124 Ike and Tina Topless Turner - Sweet Rhode Island Red
125 Flotsam and Jetsam - She Took an Axe
126 Lizzy Borden - Council for the Cauldron
127 Rob Noyes - Further off
128 The Real Kids - All Kindsa Girls
129 Immunerable Forms - Puritys Demand
130 Blonde Redhead - Inside You
131 Agoraphobic Nosebleed - Agorapocalypse Now
132 Wear Your Wounds - Adrift In You
133 Howlin' Rain - Phantom In The Valley
134 J Mascis - Every Morning
135 Killswitch Engage - The Signal Fire (feat. Howard Jones)
136 Refuse Resist - _Still in Massachusetts
137 Church of Misery - Boston Strangler
138 City On A Hill TV show - Opening Theme
139 Pixies - U-Mass
140 Warhorse - Amber Vial
141 Zozobra - The Cruelest Cut
142 REVOCATION - Scattering The Flock
143 Metal Church - Of unsound mind
144 Seven Spires - Drowner Of Worlds
145 Boston Legal - TV show theme song
146 Converge - Trespasses
147 Cave In - Anchor
148 Give up the Ghost - Love American
149 Dinosaur Jr. - Tiny
150 Boston Bruins theme song - Lets Go Bruins
151 Buffalo Tom - Staples
152 Trap Them - [Crown Feral #02] Hellionaires
153 Knights Of Bostonia - State Radio
154 Juliana Hatfield 3 - Feelin Massachusetts
155 The Red Chord - Hymns And Crippled Anthems
156 CLUTCH - Emily Dickinson
157 New Kids On The Block - Step By Step
158 MELIAH RAGE - Decline of rule
159 Belly - Gepetto
160 AEROSMITH - Get A Grip
666 Denis Leary - ASSHOLE
Also, check out the awesome L.A Witch Halloween Quarantine playlist at:
https://floodmagazine.com/82347/l-a-witch-quarantine-helloween-playlist/?fbclid=IwAR3QRJEIMt57z-X_Zrfx5Ae7rjLkLdpOnjes6iv4yczqxAvLcG3OdfCulWw
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Jonsa in the library. I get Time Traveler's Wife feels from them. He's a librarian. But ya know, you don't have to get into the time travel bit. Just library jonsa is hot. So..
Hey there! I’ve never seen the Time Traveler’s Wife, so I just kinda rolled with the librarian thing. It’s almost 2, so please excuse the questionable quality, sorry! Please enjoy, everyone!
Send more prompts here.
Emily and Will (a jonsa oneshot)
It’s unusual for a public library to run 24/7, but since the university is only ten minutes away, Jon finds himself sitting at the checkout desk pulling the night shift for the third time that week. He’s not complaining for any reason. The only people who come in are stressed out, caffeine-filled college students who are desperately searching for extra copies of classic novels or a computer to print out their long-as-fuck reports.
Sure, it’s a little weird for a good-looking twenty-year-old kid to have a job at a place where most of the employees are fifty year old women (probably named Pam or Ruth). But he gets free hot drinks, wi-fi all night, and access to the woman he loves most in the world.
“Hey, Em,” he says as he opens up the aged copy of Poems by Emily Dickinson. Strange as it may seem, Emily has been Jon’s go-to author for the past ten years. He attributes it to his own mother’s love for the poet. When he was little, she would read Emily’s poems to him before bed.
Just as he’s starting to read, the door bursts open. Jon is certain he’s fallen asleep and started dreaming. The new arrival is a gorgeous redhead, wearing high heels and a short black party dress. She marches up to the front desk and starts rummaging around in her silver clutch purse. Triumphantly, she pulls out a yellow sticky note.
“Listen, I know how this looks,” she begins, “but I’m sort of a mess right now and I need a couple books.”
“We… um… yeah, we have those.” Oh, nice fucking job, Snow. Of course you have books, it’s a fucking library.
“Good, because I know it’s probably hell with finals coming up. I nearly forgot to stop by, but somehow sober me was smart enough to put a note in my purse so slightly-drunk me could remember.” She shakes her head and blinks. Jon can smell cigarettes and vodka on top of her lemony perfume. Alarms are ringing in his head.
“Are you okay? I can call the police if you need me to,” he offers. Unfortunately, he’s had to do it several times for other girls who needed to escape their crazy boyfriends. Suddenly he’s wondering if Beautiful Redhead has a boyfriend. Shit. He really hopes she doesn’t.
“What? No, I’m fine. Only had three drinks. I’m an English major and- well, you get the idea. Anyways, here’s the list.” She presses the sticky note in his hand. The writing is flowery and neat. Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy. Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman. Poetry of Robert Frost.
“Easy enough. I’ll go find them,” he says, ducking into the storage room. He could easily just pick out the old, torn-up copies that are out on the shelves, but for some reason he firmly believes that Beautiful Redhead deserves clean white pages instead of ugly, yellow, bent ones.
There’s a box labelled NEW ARRIVALS: CLASSICS & POETRY sitting on the floor. He opens it up and goes digging through. At the very top is a collection of Emily Dickinson poetry. Jon really does try to ignore it. After a moment of hesitation, he sets it aside. The books on Beautiful Redhead’s list are easy enough to find, and he brings them out with a flourish.
“Right, if you need to sign up for a card-”
“Already have one,” she says, handing him the little plastic slip. He takes it and examines the name. Sansa. The last name has been smudged and faded, but Sansa is all he needs. It seems poetic and sweet, the way it rolls through his head. Sansa.
“Yeah?”
God fucking dammit, Snow, you’re not supposed to say what you’re thinking.
“Nice name,” he says, setting to work on checking out the books to her. “You like Russian lit?”
“Nope, but for some reason one of my literature teachers is obsessed with it. Trust me, I had to fight tooth and nail through War and Peace,” says Sansa. She leans against the desk, and Jon tries very hard not to look at her cleavage, which is very obvious in her strapless dress.
“I read Crime and Punishment in my junior year. It was both a crime and a punishment,” he jokes. Sansa giggles, and he’s already mentally high fiving himself for making her laugh. Her cheeks stand out more when she smiles, while her blue eyes sparkle like sapphires.
“Oh! Emily Dickinson!” she notices his book, still open next to a cup of tea that’s probably turned cold.
“Yeah, I really love Emily,” he says.
“I can see. You’re on a first name basis with her,” Sansa teases. “What other poets do you like?”
Ah, son of a bitch. Soon she’ll realize he’s as boring as a wall. “Just her.”
“Seriously? Nobody else? What about Shakespeare, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Alfred, Lord Tennyson… any of them?” Jon feels like an idiot. He’s nearing his mid-twenties and of course he’s only ever loved Emily (and now Sansa- god, he’s a loser).
“I should totally read more. I’ve never been big on variety, which totally sucks, but-”
“Hey, don’t freak out. I’ve always liked Whitman and Frost best, but Emily is my number one bitch,” she says, then hiccups. “Maybe I had four drinks. I should leave before I totally embarrass myself in front of someone as cute as you.”
They stare at each other. She realizes what she’s said.
“Oh my god. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… just forget I said that, okay?” With a dutiful nod, Jon slips the spare Emily book to the side and puts the others in a plastic grocery bag.
“It was raining earlier, and I wouldn’t want the ink to run. Are you sure I can’t call a cab for you?” he offers. She’s already tapping out the number of someone on her phone called ‘the older brother’. Still not a boyfriend. Two mental thumbs up.
“I’ll be okay. Hey, what’s your name? Do you work here every day at one in the morning?”
“I’m Jon,” he says, “and yeah, I do.” Sansa reaches out and awkwardly shakes his hand. It sends shivers down his spine and an electric current to his brain.
“See you later, Jon.”
She disappears out of the door, wobbling a bit on her heels.
“Bye, Sansa,” he whispers. The Emily book is lying open, as if to yell at him to get his head out of his ass already.
“Sorry.”
And of course there’s no reply.
one week later
“Are you some sort of vampire, Jon?” Sansa asks with a laugh. She’s dressed in a white turtleneck and jeans with her auburn hair braided to the side. Jon sets aside his book and tea, offering the dorkiest smile ever.
“Either that or I’m the only one who’s willing to take a night shift.” The last group of late night studiers left half an hour ago. He’s spent the past seven days wondering if that beautiful redhead might show up again. Lo and behold, it’s her, in all of her “Emily is my main bitch” splendor.
“I hate to bother you, but I need a copy of the university’s level three French class textbook. You have that, right?” Jon nods and looks up the title before going to fetch it from the reference section. Sansa is interesting to learn about from her library checkouts. He knows that she loves classical literature - except Russian - and poetry, and speaks French well enough to be using an advanced textbook. When he sets it on the desk, her card is already in her hand.
“Merci beaucoup, monsieur,” she says with a perfect accent.
“I took German in high school,” he says with an apologetic shrug.
“C’est bon, je vous pardonne.” He grins and slides her the book.
“Due on the fifteenth.”
“I have some books to check in, too,” she says, and hands him Anna Karenina, Leaves of Grass, and another book with a title that’s covered by an old dust jacket. Jon checks in the first two, but can’t find a barcode on the third.
“Did the plastic jacket fall off or something?” he asks, reaching for a roll of masking tape. Sansa yelps and grabs his wrist.
Shit fuck shit fuck. Red fucking alert. Any physical contact might drive him crazy.
“No, it’s my copy! Please don’t tape it! I got it at an old antiques place, and I wanted to lend it to you so you’d have something other than Emily Dickinson,” she explains quickly. Jon stares at her, mouth hanging open like a goddamn idiot.
“You… for me?”
She releases her grip on his arm, and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. They stand in a thick silence. Jon looks down and reads the title, which is printed in shiny gold letters. Shakespeare’s Sonnets.
“Sansa, thank you so much,” he says, “and I’m really sorry I nearly destroyed your book with masking tape.”
Sansa smiles and shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it. Enjoy the poems. See you sometime, I guess?” She grabs her textbook and starts to head away, but Jon is quicker. He wraps his hand around the textbook, and she stops to frown at him.
“If you leave your book with me, we both know that you’re going to come back in a week to get it back. And when you do, you’re going to find a really shitty, awkward note in it that says something along the lines of ‘do you want to grab coffee and talk about poetry’, except thirty percent more awkward. What I’m saying is… can I save us both some trouble and just ask you now?”
He’s almost sure he’s blown it. Her face is unreadable as they gaze at each other. She bites her lip (even though he’d totally offer to do that for her), probably thinking of a good way to let him down.
“Go ahead,” she says. “Ask me.”
Showtime, Snow. He inhales deeply and holds out her copy of the sonnets.
“Sansa, the most beautiful redhead, would you do me the great honor of getting coffee and talking about poetry sometime?” Jon feels like a dumb, five-dollar Mr. Darcy rip off, and then Sansa smiles.
“It would be an honor,” she says, taking the book and tucking it into her bag. They grin at each other, which turns into fits of giggles. Jon’s eyes are completely bloodshot and his feet ache, but he’s never felt better.
“I’m definitely never going to forget this,” she says. Her fingers brush against his, and the next thing he knows, he’s kissing her softly in the middle of an empty library at two in the morning. She tastes like chapstick and lemon, and fuck, he wants to drown in her. The desk that separates them digs into his legs as he leans further into the kiss.
As he’s driving home that night, he can still feel it. With a dumb grin on his face, he unlocks the front door of his apartment. Both of his roommates are in the living room.
“Hey, Snow! Any news about that mystery lover of yours?” asks Robb. He and Theon are watching Lord of the Rings for the sixth time in a week. Since Jon didn’t give many details about his first encounter with Sansa, he feels the need to catch them up.
“Her name is Sansa, she smells like lemons, we made out at the library and it was the best day of my life,” Jon says. He’s still in a state of childlike amazement, and doesn’t notice the murderous glare that has appeared in Robb’s eyes.
“What. The. Fuck. Did. You. Just. Say?”
Theon glances back and forth between them. “Oh shit, Snow! Did you seriously feel up Robb’s little sister at a public library?”
“No way! I said Sansa, not Arya,” says Jon.
“He has two sisters, dumbass! Sansa’s the hot one with red hair!”
Robb is glowering at both Jon and Theon. Fuck it.
“Theon, the answer is yes. And it was worth it.”
The black eye was worth it too, he would later decide.
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Hope (the tune without words)
An edited and revised version of “Hope (is but a building block)” which I posted a few hours after the episode. I fixed a couple narrative errors, some grammatical stuff, and just some thematic elements because writing.
Title from Emily Dickinson’s “Hope” is the thing without feathers -
“Hope is the thing without feathers / That perches in the soul / And sings the tune without the words / And never stops at all.”
Summary:
Sometimes people leave and you can’t get them back
(and sometimes that’s not the end of the story)
Warnings: Mentions of suicidal thoughts, all the spoilers, mentions of gore
[AO3]
–
Kerrek stands, breathing heavily, the glow from his hammer fading as Raishan’s body falls to the ground, limp. He blinks once, twice, his vision solidifying on Percy’s prone form, the gunslinger’s gut slashed open.
Kima walks up beside him, clearly in his periphery, and places a hand on his shoulder, her eyes fixed on the green dragon corpse before them, and she speaks carefully to the room.
“You did what had to be done. Thank you.”
His mouth mumbles something about helping Percy, bypassing his brain entirely, and Kima shakes her head, eyes downcast.
“I think he’s beyond either of our power now,” she says, before straightening and calling for Allura, leaving him to the two bodies at his feet.
Kerrek falls to his knees, paying no mind to the shouts bouncing around him.
It’s just noise now.
He prays, willing his hands to imbue Percy’s corpse with life, but the magic fails to take hold and so he does what he can. Triage – something he has far more experience with than he does the aftermath of battle.
Vex rushes over, calling for Pike, and Kerrek feels his scarred heart pushing at the seams even as he dismisses the flashes of memory from his last adventure.
Of what could have been, and what wasn’t.
Sometimes allies fall and they don’t get up.
(and sometimes you give up on them before giving them a chance)
Part of him envies Vox Machina’s steadfast belief that they will not lose one of their own, and part of him wishes he still had that.
(a small portion of him is glad he doesn’t. being able to let go lessens the hurt, Kerr has found)
But Pike’s revivify takes hold, and Kerrek feels the invisible barrier that had kept his magic from pushing through suddenly disappear and he wills healing energy into the man below him even as Vex bursts into loud sobs, layering kisses over Percy’s cheeks and face.
When Percival’s eyes open, Kerr takes a step back to leave them a modicum of privacy.
(there are some things not meant to be shared)
Kerrek pushes down more never-quite-forgotten memories of days long past, and he surveys the rest of the party, counting heads to see that everyone is there and standing and well.
But he sees Scanlan’s pale form, clutched to Vax’s chest, and hears Grog’s shouts as if through a tunnel.
“Fix him! We’ve got all of these people with magic; you’ve all got magic spells, so fix him!”
Kerrek sees Vax’s bowed head, his lips tight and his eyes closed, and he understands. But then the rest of them start back up, and someone says “Vax, the Raven Queen – you can talk to her, right?” and there are too many memories there.
Kerrek turns to survey the rest of the cave, his heart heavy.
He is met with the sight of dragon corpses and evil magics, the likes of which he is sure he will never be able to comprehend, and Kerrek feels a shiver down his spine as he glances back to the rest of them, who have shifted their focus to Allura, who asks them to come closer so they can teleport away.
Vox Machina, so much younger than himself and yet so much stronger than he ever was.
Kerrek had been fully prepared to face his death while fighting Raishan, but fate said otherwise. He has some other purpose, and as loathe as he is to continue living sometimes; especially when those who have died deserve it so much less than he himself does, Kerrek will fulfill that destiny.
(he’ll do what he always has done – what needs to be done)
The teleportation fails and they take what they can from the sanctum, though he finds himself caught unawares by a glyph on the floor that glows and sends a rush of pain through him, his muscles tensing and tightening and his vision whites out in a fiery haze. His ears are filled with the rush of blood that is drowned out by the screams being forced from his body despite his inability to move, until his sight clears and he sees Vax crouching over him, Scanlan’s small form still held in his arms.
Even as Allura warns them not to approach the glyph until it has faded, Kerrek finds himself gasping, the pain leaving quicker than he had anticipated.
He’s suffered worse, and all that matters is it’s still not sufficient penance.
(years and years of working and it’s never enough)
Kerrek knows they need to get out, before anything else happens. And he knows that despite the prowess of those around him, at least part of his purpose is to protect others. It always has been, and that’s not changed, regardless of who has fallen or why.
They start heading back, and he hears the laughter of the flaming skulls. He sees their familiar forms and charges forward, even as bullets, arrows, and beams of sunlight shoot past him. He takes the impact of two flaming beams of energy to his shoulder and leg, but he takes his blows at the skull that has not fallen, smashing it out of the air. He turns back to them, trying not to let his gaze linger on their faces.
“The way is clear,” he says, and he leads them back the way they had come not even an hour before.
When they emerge into the dying sunlight Kerrek takes a glance at the cave behind him and almost regrets it, with the memory it brings to the forefront of his mind, when he last departed a necromancer’s lair.
He feels a divine spark of reassurance – small, but enough to start thawing the icy coldness that had settled over him in the cave. Kerrek offers a prayer of thanks and follows the rest of them, stopping only when Allura finds a clear place to make her teleportation circle.
And then she and Kima are gone, and Kerrek is staring at the place they vanished, half-wondering if he should run through and follow them.
(he is too slow, too hesitant)
He follows Vox Machina. He listens to their certainties, their hopes, and their silence as they all continue walking away from the hill, from the death emanating off the center of the island. He listens as Keyleth shares what she saw, and he feels a renewed sinking feeling in his chest even as Percy reiterates their plan to her and she locks eyes with each of them individually, her own wide and pleading and never wanting to give up.
(they may have won this battle with hope, but hope is not everything, and it cannot solve any problem)
And when they reach the shore, just as they begin searching around for a large enough tree, Keyleth steps up to the edge of the tide, the water lapping at the leather of her boots, her eyes scanning the horizon.
Kerrek sighs, managing to take two steps toward her before she points out to her right, hand shaking.
“They’re there! Aw, shit! I don’t know if it’s them- it looks like them, I’m sure it’s them-“
He places his hand on her shoulder and, feeling his age, the tiredness in his bones, silently begs her to give up the meaningless search.
“Oh child, wishing doesn’t make it so.”
(he knows from experience that hope is strong, but never quite strong enough to conquer the inevitable)
Sometimes you need to find the strength to move on, to grow out of the fire that passes in and around and through you. To be a leader you often have to accept the difficult truths.
“But there’s something! There’s something out there and it might be something different, but there’s something!”
“Keyleth-“ Percy tries to interject, but Vex has already taken off on her broom, speeding out over the waves set aglow by the setting sun, and Keyleth is giving her directions over their earrings.
“Good, no, a little too far to the left- That’s good, straight ahead… “
But eventually Vex flies out of range, her and the broom only a speck in the sky, and Keyleth’s breath catches in her chest once, twice, before she seems to choke and she collapses into Kerrek’s shoulder, reminiscent of the day before when she had broken down in the Cinder King’s lair.
He worries, but he holds her close and rocks her gently from side to side, trying to break the truth to her as whispered words in her ear.
(hope cannot heal broken hearts)
“Sometimes people don’t come back,” he says as the waves rush against the shore and the sun creeps lower and lower, feeling some of her tears seep through his jerkin. “Sometimes people leave and you can’t get them back.”
His mouth continues to move without his urging as he tries to comfort her, inane phrases of truths he’s learned over the years.
(her hopes are already dashed – he wants to let them fall gradually)
Still Keyleth finds it in herself to mumble Vex’s name into her earring, the optimism inside her like a fire that can’t be put out, even if only the smallest sparks remain. While Kerrek continues to murmur his reassurances, she babbles into the earring, asking for something, anything; a sign that they’re alive.
“What?!” Keyleth exclaims, sitting upright in response to some impetus that has the rest of Vox Machina gazing out over the ocean waters. “Oh thank the gods.”
And she collapses into him again, tears flowing down her cheeks in never-ceasing rivulets. Kerrek looks around, wondering what had happened, and he makes eye contact with Vax, who is standing only a few feet behind him.
“My sister said she found them; Kima and Allura,” Vax says, his chest high and his arms strong despite the weight they carried. “They’re on their way back.”
Kerrek gapes for a moment, not knowing what to make of the turn of events, but he nods and looks away from Vax’s stare, his hand coming to rest on Keyleth’s shoulder, his own words outstripped in importance in mere moments.
Sometimes people leave and you can’t get them back.
(sometimes they leave, but you won’t let them stay gone)
And when they come together and exit the portal to Whitestone, into the chill dusk air, Kerrek thinks he understands the difference between Keyleth and himself.
Kerrek has seen enough of the world to see how hope has failed, but how rising from the ashes is possible and even likely.
Keyleth (and Vox Machina) have seen enough of the world to be able to hope in everything they believe in, never letting that go until every option is exhausted, ever potential spent.
(that steadfastness hasn’t held a place in his heart for years)
He watches and prays in the deepening night, and feels his own spark of hope return to him even as darkness falls and friends hold vigil.
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