#at this point the rags are for caleb if u read them no one else will understand shit but i need to exteriorize bonjour

[dawnpours]

Really having Big Feels about my dnd campaign rn.

[unicyclehippo]

prompt: Fjord and Beau just being best bros

‘Dude, my head is killing me.’

Fjord nods drowsily, bent over his coffee. He slides his own cup over to her and stands slowly, exhaustedly, to pour another. Beau slams the last of his drink, passes it back to be filled again.

‘Shit’s fucked, man.’

‘You can say that again. But don’t. There’s a child over there.’ Fjord points. 

Beau follows the line of his finger to Luc, laying akimbo on an armchair, almost entirely upside down. It can not be a comfortable position. Beau heard somewhere that children aren’t, like, fully formed or they have a weird number of bones still. Maybe that’s why he can sleep through having basically contorted himself into a pretzel.

‘Should we. Carry him to a bed or something?’

‘I have no idea. Looks more comfortable than the beds in the orphanage. So...he’ll be fine.’

‘Monks sleep on a plank of wood.’

‘So do orphans.’

‘I didn’t even have a blanket.’

‘I had a rag I named Buddy for a blanket. He was also my best friend.’

‘I - no, yeah, that’s rough dude.’

Fjord grins, that stupidly charming grin of his, hint of a tusk flashing at the corner of his lips. ‘I’m gonna carry the kid to - I guess your bed? Caduceus snores.’

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll carry your coffee. I’d carry the kid but like, you’re buff now.’

‘Maybe Yeza and N- Veth can use my miraculous transformation to get the kid to eat his seaweed wraps.’

‘Or to give him nightmares.’

‘Nightmares?’ Fjord asks, mostly a whisper as he walks to Luc, scoops him up off the seat. The halfling boy snorts, kicks out a foot, but doesn’t wake, snuggling into Fjord’s chest. 

‘Dude. You had a stranger talk to you in your dreams, walked out into a snowstorm, got all wrapped up in seaweed that had no way to get there - I mean the time it would take,’ she elaborates as they make their way up the spiralling staircase, ‘to get the seaweed to the mountain, you’d have to either transport it by ship to the far north, which is all ice so that’d add weeks more to the time frame, or you have to carry it north through either Xhorhas or the Savalirwood, and I don’t need to tell you how hard that would be, either one.’

‘Right, sure, uh,’

‘So either we’re thinking the seaweed was waiting for you and people came in the middle of the night to wrap you up extreme bondage style, or -’

‘Or the good goddess of nature and the wilderness, to whom I have dedicated myself, gave me a gift?’

‘Sure. Or that.’

Fjord snorts. ‘That’s not nightmare fuel. Is it?’

‘I mean.’

‘Is it?’

‘Is it for you?’

‘No?’

‘Then nah,’ Beau shrugs, drinks deeply from her cup. ‘It’s fine, dude.’

Fjord eyes her, nods toward the closed door. Beau juggles the cups she’s carrying into one hand, opens the door with her other and lets the boys inside. She drinks again, humming happily at the jolt of the caffeine in her veins.

‘Uh - ‘ 

Beau glances up at the note of confusion in Fjord’s voice. She looks into the room for anything strange but sees nothing.

‘What?’

‘There’s only one bed.’

Beau frowns over at him. ‘Yeah, it’s Jester’s room.’

‘You’re sharing with her?’

Heat rushes to her cheeks at the way Fjord looks at her, intrigued and curious and the smallest bit appraising. He says nothing, walking into the room and laying Luc down onto the bed - the boy immediately rolls away from him, snuggles into the blankets and pillows, and neither of the friends can fight looking adoringly at him for a second. 

‘We did good.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Didn’t drop him.’

‘Didn’t hit his head on the doorway.’

‘We’re like legit babysitters.’

‘We rocked that!’

‘Yeah!’ 

They high-five and the crack of sound echoes through the room. Beau and Fjord freeze, look toward the bed. Luc snores and does not wake.

‘We should,’ Fjord whispers, points to the door, ‘we should go.’

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah, lets go.’

Beau closes the door very, very quietly behind them and passes Fjord’s cup back to him. 

He drinks.

‘So. You two - share a bed?’

Beau’s eyes cut sideways. ‘Just when we’re here in Nicodranas. Jester likes having a roommate.’

‘You were a monk. You’ve slept on the floor before.’

‘You want me to sleep on the floor?’

‘No, no, I’m not saying you have to, I’m just asking,’ he insists. Everything about him screams sincerity - and awkwardness - and Beau forces herself to relax. ‘I guess - we don’t have to talk about this,’ he decides. ‘Let’s - not.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘I’m not sure I want to know.’

‘Okay.’

‘Okay.’

They both drink. Beau slurps obnoxiously loud, making Fjord snort a laugh into his own cup, drink splashing onto his face and shirt. He splutters, wipes at his face and chest. 

‘This explains a lot,’ Fjord says after a minute of silence. ‘Like, a lot.’

‘Huh?’

‘You and Jes are - uh - ‘

‘We’re not -’

‘I just said I didn’t need to ask, I don’t know why I’m talking about this-’

‘No, you have a right to know!’

‘I don’t think I do,’ Fjord insists, voice going strangled and high-pitched with the hope to avoid this whole conversation that he started. ‘Let’s not. Let’s not. Anytime I think about talking about it, just hit me. In the head. Maybe I’ll get short term memory loss or something-’

‘That’s not funny. I’m not gonna hurt you, dude,’

‘That’s not,’ Fjord sighs. ‘I know you won’t.’

‘Okay.’

‘Okay.’

They re-situate themselves at the bar at the base of the Chateau. Re-fill their mugs and sit in companionable, if somewhat strained, silence.

‘Last night was wild,’ Fjord says after a bit. ‘You seemed like you had fun though.’

‘I don’t know if what I had was fun or if it was something else entirely.’

‘A trip. You had a trip.’

‘I could see and hear everything and for a minute it was the most amazing thing, I really was my best self just like Caduceus promised. But it was like when you’re walking on a railing or something and you can fall off it and dude, I fell way off.’

‘Yeah, you were grabbing at shit in the air - ‘

‘There were fish in the air, dude! I could see them! I bet they’re all around us right now.’

‘Nice fish?’

‘Some of them. Some of them were fu-u-ucked though. That deep sea shit I’ve read about in books. Eels. Massive sea snakes.’

‘Snea snakes, I think they’re called.’

‘You’re right, you’re right. And hey, sorry I fucked up our interrogation last night.’

‘Eh.’ Fjord shrugs. ‘I really believe him when he says he was just there for a good time.’ He ignores her sound of disagreement. ‘Besides, there’s no one I’d rather have my back. Even high off your fucking ass, you’re my first mate. Can you imagine if I’d been stuck with anyone else?’

‘You and Nott would’ve caused a riot. Veth.’

‘Veth. One hundred per cent. I wouldn’t have a clue what to say to Yasha.’

‘She’s good, though, she can read people, that would’ve been fine.’

‘Maybe! But if another guy came up to her I would’ve pulled my sword.’

‘Oh for sure. Caduceus?’

‘That would’ve been fine.’

Beau arches a brow. She lets the comment pass. ‘You and Jester, then?’

‘I’m going to say this just once. What we - you and me - did last night was so fucking stupid. We got lost, we lost our mark, I thought I got a contact high from having out with you, I forgot literally everything Caleb and Jester said in their messages,’

‘We’ve had better nights, for sure.’

‘But if I had been with Jester,’ he says, ‘things would only have gone wrong. I’m thinking instant unicorns, I’m thinking I would have thunder stepped with her and broken a pillar or something.’

‘Destruction. Mayhem.’

‘Definitely. She has this way about her,’

‘You wanna help her out, you wanna get her what she wants, like, straight away.’

‘Yeah! And it’s like, you’re not thinking with your right mind anymore!’ he hisses, almost distraught with it. Beau nods a few times very quickly in agreement. 

‘That’s it! Your brain just goes fucking wild and you go with the first idea that comes to mind and that’s always the stupidest one!’

‘Every time!’

They shake their heads in unison. Sigh. Drink their drink and stare out the bay window to the seaside. 

[grimmseye]

A Bird in the Hand: Chapter Six

Read on Ao3 here!

Rating: T

Fandom: Critical Role

Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Essek Thelyss, Mollymauk Tealeaf/Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast (eventual)

Chapter Characters: Mollymauk Tealeaf, Essek Thelyss

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Molly Rez, Amnesiac Mollymauk, Oh My God They Were Roommates, Existential Topics, Essek getting excited by both Mollymauk and his weird magic, Mention of Torture (in literally like the first sentence)

— — —

The scars littering Mollymauk's body weren't a result of torture, as Essek had first assumed. Blood magic was still fairly taboo, but he knew it had its merits. The life force was a powerful source of magic, and drawing blood was safer than drawing directly from the soul.

Most blood magic came in alteration and control. One could use their own blood to change themself, to augment their power by manipulating the force that defined them. Or, they could take another's essence, claim it and use it to collar its source. Blood made scrying simple and curses into child's play. It was a very useful component, and Essek preferred to stay quiet about his own applications of it.

What Mollymauk did, he theorized, had to do with sacrifice. There was power in that, too. The giving-up, the exchange of something to gain, or to take from another, was a form of magic that dated back to its most ancient roots. Before there was wizardry, druids, artificers, those who learned their craft and honed it through study and training, there were those who made pacts with something else.

The question then became what Mollymauk was sacrificing to. A god, a demon, a devil? Or simply to the Weave itself, using his blood as the guidelines to tangle its threads in new formations.

It was all very exciting.

So was watching Mollymauk, though he was ashamed to admit it. He hadn't asked the tiefling to undress, but Mollymauk had been more than happy to divest himself of his shirt. It left him in loose pants, the material fluttering in the cool wind that blew past. He'd taken up blades in Essek's backyard at Essek's own request. One of his swords was wet with his blood, and illuminated with a radiant glow.

The radiance took a point away from Mollymauk contacting of the negative planes, though Essek knew better than to negate it completely. Tieflings had infernal heritages, it was entirely possible that all the oddities of Mollymauk's body were tied to a single source. It was doubtful, but it was also worth noting.

Essek did just that, writing down his thoughts, knowing he'd be glad to have them later. A stream of consciousness on a page was better than neat and tidy notes that lacked detail and most importantly context. He seethed when thinking of the number of projects he'd had to abandon all because he hadn't marked down a late-night thought.

"You have another of these, you said," Essek prompted. "The other sword does not use radiance?" It was difficult to look at the blade directly with its sunlit glow.

Mollymauk twirled one scimitar with an idle air, catching it in his palm. "Yeah. Ice for that one."

Essek moved forward, wanting a close look. He muttered a word, burning the first-level slot to sharpen his gaze to magic. "Activate it, please."

Without missing a beat, Molly obeyed. It made his insides shiver to see the blade come up, cutting neatly into his skin. It was shallow and precise, drawing a scarlet line along the edge of the blade that beaded and dripped over Mollymauk's collar. Molly held it still against his chest for Essek to watch as the blood crystallized, frost crawling over the surface of the blade. It was evocation that brought the ice to the surface, and that brimmed off the blade's glowing twin.

A hint of necromancy burned in Molly's blood, and suddenly Essek had the thought: what would he find if he drew some from Mollymauk's veins, was the blood under his skin inherently magical was he built from necrotic energy, he'd crawled his way out of a grave so what did that make him. Surely he wasn't undead, or the way magic interacted with him would change, the spells Essek had cast on him wouldn't work, but he couldn't count as mortal, either.

So what on earth was Mollymauk Tealeaf? The question had a giddy sensation roiling up in his stomach.

"What's up with your eyes?" Mollymauk asked, and Essek blinked back to himself.

It took a moment to remember what he meant. The spell gave his eyes a kaleidoscopic appearance, reflecting colors that shifted madly in the presence of magic. "Ah. I cast a spell on myself, it lets me sense magic in the vicinity. Do you know about the different schools of magic?"

Mollymauk closed his eyes, arms swinging at his sides so the sword blades dragged in the dirt. "... No," he concluded, with a definitive nod. "I really don't know shit about magic as a whole. I don't know why or how this happens, but cutting myself makes my swords fancy."

Essek remembered the way blood had burst in a gnoll's eyes, blinding them, making the snap of their jaws only seize the air. "Is there anything else you can do?" He pressed.

Mollymauk gave him a long, withering look, and snorted. "Wizards. They tell you I know a place and then spend the time quizzing you about your blood curses. Yeah, if I cut a bit deeper, I can affect other... things. People, monsters, whatever. It's only temporary, but it can be enough in a pinch. If someone's about to get run through with a sword..."

Mollymauk's gaze went distant. His breath hitched, and he lifted a hand, putting it on the ragged scar on his chest. "It might be enough to throw them off."

Essek let him linger, uncertain what had captured his mind but hoping that maybe this would help unlock the rest of his memories. If he could return Mollymauk to the Nein, safe and happy and just as they'd found him, then maybe he could relieve the weight of his guilt. If bad and good were opposites, then surely if he just did enough good, that would eventually outweigh the bad.

He knew that logic was flawed. If that were the case, then the teleportations would have eased the pressure. But that was small, not necessarily easy for him but simple enough, something he could do for anyone. This was different. This was special. This would mean something, and then he could be forgiven, even if they never knew of his betrayal.

Eventually, clarity returned to Mollymauk's eyes. He shook himself, his expression pensive and tail coiling. Essek prompted him with a quirk of the eyebrow. Each time this happened, there was the hope that maybe he was fixed at last. And as was true each previous time, it didn't seem to be so — Mollymauk only gave a yawn and stretched his arms out, mindless of the blades he held. "So, yeah. Blood curses. Can't exactly demonstrate them without a target, though."

Essek sighed, but let himself be swept into a new focus. In time, he soothed himself. Mollymauk would regain his mind in time. Regardless, letting the memories filter back gradually seemed to treat Mollymauk better than forcing the issue, even if Essek was still looking for a more direct way to unlock those memories.

He tapped his own temple, refocusing. What Mollymauk said was true, there wasn't a target to use for a demonstration. Unless —

"You said the effects were temporary," Essek checked.

Mollymauk gave a shrug. "Far as I've seen."

"No lasting effects?" The question got him a shake of the head, as expected. Magic usually wore off without a trace. To call Mollymauk's abilities a curse was likely a stronger word than was accurate, too small and too brief to qualify. Curses clung and festered, even a blindness spell was likely to have more effect than what Mollymauk could do — except that it wouldn't come through in a split-second of need, by the time Essek was finished pulling his components and conjuring the sigils in his mind, a sword would be through Mollymauk's chest, through Caleb's, through Jester's.

Life for life. Perhaps it was a more equal exchange than he'd believed.

"In that case..." Essek drew the words out, giving himself a moment longer to consider. "Target me."

Mollymauk's face contorted into bewilderment. "Are you sure?" He prompted.

"As long as what you said is true, and the effect is only temporary, then yes." Even if the thought did make his skin prickle, remembering how blood spurted around the eyes. He wondered how badly it would hurt. Essek could fight, but it did not mean he was comfortable with pain. Not like Mollymauk.

The tiefling shrugged, shifting his weight between each hoof. "Ready?" He asked. Then he broke out into a sudden grin, saying, "Honestly this is weird. It's always a split-second thing for me, I've hardly had to think about it."

"Would it help if I attempted to strike you?" Essek pulled a curl of ice between his fingers, crystalizing purple magic that was so dark it bordered on black. Mollymauk watched the movement of his fingers, teeth sinking into his lower lip as he grinned.

"Talented hands," Mollymauk commented, and then cleared his throat. "But uh. You know what? Fuck it, why not. Give me your best shot, Thelyss."

Mollymauk slunk back, and the shift to his posture held Essek's gaze where it didn't belong. Mollymauk typically held himself lofty and large, filling up the space around him. That meant this change made for a captivating view, to watch as he became a serpentine creature, one who curled one way to the other and then lunged in to strike. He wasn't attacking Essek, though, was only on defense, swaying in place with a hypnotic flow.

Essek watched him, biding his time, a stalemate. He counted the seconds, learned the pattern of Mollymauk's weight, found the point when he'd struggle to shift his movement and then —

Crimson splashed in his vision. Essek gasped, a hand flying to his face as the burn began to settle in at the corners of his eyes. Blood trickled from his tear ducts in heavy drops, sticky as they rolled down his cheeks. The sensation was nauseating.

Necromancy, he recalled. That had been the magic that flashed the second before he lost his vision. He cleaned the blood away with a few casts of prestidigitation, blinking his eyes to find Mollymauk standing much closer with streaks of blood on his own cheeks, and not so much as a speck of frost on his skin.

"Handy trick," Mollymauk commented, as the blood wicked off of Essek's skin. "You mind...?"

He swallowed his nausea, saying, "Of course." Essek cupped Mollymauk's jaw, sliding his thumb across his cheek to where the peacock feather was inked to clear the blood away. He only realized a moment later he hadn't actually needed to touch Mollymauk.

"Thank you," Mollymauk all but purred, and Essek would swear the tiefling pressed into his hand before he pulled it away.

He drew in a breath, and as he let it out he forced his muscles to unwind. "Thank you," Essek returned. "I have some interesting points to consider from that."

"Oh, yeah?"

A smirk twitched at the corner of his lips. "You wouldn't understand it." It wasn't meant as an insult. Or, perhaps it was a bit of an insult, but mostly just a statement of fact.

"True enough," Mollymauk shrugged, and to Essek's disappointment, he didn't bother prying.

In the distance, the sky began to change. The change in the light was enough to draw both their gazes. The clouds that cast the city in darkness had begun to spiral open, an eye dilating over the Bright Queen's palace to let in a light that made Essek wince even from so far away.

"I suppose we will have to pause this," Essek said, turning away to head into the house. "I prefer not to willingly blind myself."

"Please think about what you just said," Mollymauk drawled as he trotted up beside him, tail flicking against the back of Essek's calf.

He had to snort. "You have something of a point, but that was performed as apart of an experiment. Learning, studying, improving, not just..." He stopped himself and just huffed out a breath.

"Oh?" He could hear the smirk in Mollymauk's voice. "That means something."

Essek considered how honest he wanted to be here. Mollymauk was not a subtle individual — to call him such would likely be considered an insult. In that same vein, Molly had shown little if any regard for social norms and standards, often to a frustrating extent. "I am only frustrated," he said. "What you see there is apart of worship of... something they do not understand, and treat as a deity because of that."

"Lot's of folks don't understand me but I've yet to be treated like a god. Shame," Mollymauk sighed. "So it's some kinda ceremony? They wouldn't be having a festival, would they?" His expression lit up.

Essek actually felt bad dashing his hopes. "No, it is not the kind of ceremony you would want to partake in," he said. "It is... reverent, to an alarming degree."

"Wrong: I'd love partake in that — just as long as I'm the center of attention." Mollymauk's comment dragged another chuckle from Essek's chest. He'd been laughing more in general, since meeting the Nein. It followed that one of their early members would be much the same.

Mollymauk continued, "Really, though, what's going on? You conjured a big spooky cloud to keep the sun out, didn't you?"

"You have not heard of our Beacons yet, have you?" Essek prompted. They stepped across the threshold, Essek drawing the curtains that ideally would have only been for decoration.

"I've heard 'em mentioned?" Mollymauk shrugged. "That's — lemme guess, beacon of light?"

"That is the idea, yes." Essek lowered himself into a chair, while Mollymauk all but threw himself into another. He wrinkled his nose as the furniture creaked under the tiefling's weight. "There are these... dodecahedrons. They were found, and so were some of their properties. They found that when one is consecuted — I would say attuned, but they use consecute — their soul enters this Beacon upon death, to be reincarnated at a later time."

As Essek explained the beacons to Mollymauk, the tiefling's gaze grew distant. Snippets of conversation pulled to mind, pieces falling into place for Essek. He nipped his own criticisms of the practice short, circling around to say, "That is reason why your friends are so revered in the Dynasty. They —"

"We found one," Mollymauk interrupted. His voice was distracted. "No. We met in the sewers — Thuron."

The name pinged in Essek's mind, one of those sent to retrieve a beacon. He hummed, quiet and prompting, not wanting to break Mollymauk's reverie.

"He was killed. The guards took it, but we —" A smile pulled at his lips. "Caleb and Nott, those fucking bastards. Can't trust either of them, clever assholes'll stab you in the back at the first sniff of trouble."

Essek swallowed a protest as Mollymauk trailed into silence. Molly's brow furrowed and he shook his head, a hand coming up to cover one eye. "Gods," Mollymauk groaned. "So we'd been lugging around your god in a lead box."

"Allegedly," Essek couldn't stop himself from breaking in. He bit back any further words, but the moment had passed. Clarity returned to Mollymauk's gaze. He gave it a moment before continuing, "I have my doubts that it is any sort of deity. I think they need to be studied, not worshiped. By I am in the... extreme minority, in that regard. And I would prefer these words not be repeated."

Mollymauk gave him a crooked, tired smile. "What's a little blasphemy between friends, Mister Thelyss? And honestly, I don't blame you. That reincarnation thing, that sounds like a nightmare."

The words were alien enough to shock Essek. He cocked his head, leaning forward. "You wouldn't want to be consecuted, given the chance?"

When Mollymauk only scrunched up his nose he added, "Theoretical immortality. Death is no longer an object of fear, as it becomes a delay, not an end. That doesn't appeal to you?"

By his expression, it definitely did not. Molly's voice was rough when he spoke. "What you said about how the souls... awaken. What about the person they would have been? Is it really even their soul, or are they just suppressing someone else? I wouldn't..." Mollymauk pulled his legs up, tail curling around his shins as he rested his chin on his knees. He looked small, in that moment. His voice shook. His eyes were wide. "I don't want anyone else's memories. I don't want anyone else's thoughts."

Essek stood up. The movement was sudden enough to snap Mollymauk out of it, leaving him blinking at Essek with wide red eyes. He wracked his brain for something to say, a way to interrupt this descent, and landed on Caduceus' voice: "Would you like some tea?"

Mollymauk stared at him. Then he laughed, hoarse, and pushed himself to his hooves. "Sure," he croaked. "But there's not a chance in all the hells that I'm letting you make it."

They were silent as they moved to the kitchen, Essek standing begrudgingly aside to let Mollymauk make a mess of things. He was a good cook, but hardly a considerate one.

And maybe it was poking the sleeping owlbear, but Essek couldn't deny the questions that lingered on his tongue. "It would, theoretically, still be you," he said. "And who is to say that the person you become is not influenced by the person you were."

Mollymauk snapped his head to look over his shoulder, pinning Essek to the spot with a near-snarl. With teeth bared and ears pinned low, he looked a beat away from outright snarling in Essek's face. Then the fight drained from him. He breathed a sigh through the nostrils, drawing himself upright as he poured water into a kettle. "I am the last person to yuck anyone's yum," Mollymauk said. "If someone wants to go body hopping to the end of time, they can be my guest. But I want no part of that. It's just not for me."

Essek hesitated before dipping his head in a nod, even if Mollymauk couldn't see. "That is fair," he murmured. "I do not think it is for me, either."

"You were pretty pushy about it." Molly clicked his fingers at Essek and pointed to the stove. Essek just sighed and touched the runes, igniting a fire for him to set the kettle atop.

"You can do that on your own. Regardless, I was curious," Essek said, leaning back against the counter. "You are so against having another person's memories, but you want your own back. What is the difference there?"

"It just is." Molly started taking out the tea — all of it, in tins and bags and boxes. Most were blends that Caduceus had given him, but some came in his grocery order. Essek hardly understood the difference between them all. As Mollymauk worked, his tail lashed. It would betray his agitation if the tension in his voice hadn't already. "It feels different. Right now I'm missing pieces of myself. Those people, your people, the Nein, they're important. I don't know why, but they just are. But there was something before them."

Mollymauk turned, the anger in his face now resembling fear. Dread, maybe, or horror. It left him pale and clutching the edge of the counter, looking at Essek like he expected him to sprout fangs and lung for him. "There was something else, and I don't want it. This is my body now, my life. He gave it up. He doesn't get to take it back."

Essek remembered the haunted sheen in Molly's eyes when he'd called him by a different name.

Mollymauk.

Lucien.

"If that is true," Essek said, giving up on any further inquisition, "then you have nothing to worry about. He is... whoever he is. And you are you. You cannot become him."

It didn't work that way. He was making a statement with no backing, barely even understood what it was Mollymauk feared so terribly. But whatever he'd said, it seemed to work, with Mollymauk's shoulders going loose and a sigh expelling from his chest. "Yeah," he puffed. "Yeah that makes sense. Good thinking, Mister Thelyss."

"I am... happy to be a help to you."

And though it was said with a dryness in his voice, Essek found the words rang true.