#cold to your bones like lying in the dark on a slate floor while you wait for change that never comes

[spellscribe]

Ariadne Vibes, audio edition

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Jaskier x firebender reader - We need a horse

Summary: Jaskier is tired of constantly walking, so he convinces you to find a way to get a horse.

Warnings- shenanigans, fighting, death of bad guys, Jaskier fluff 

Masterlist

You and Jaskier are standing outside of a tavern as Geralt does whatever on the inside, you’re guessing it’s finding a new monster to hunt. Or perhaps he could be swooning over a fair maiden, yeah that doesn’t seem very plausible. You shake the thought out of your head as you lean against the side of the stony tavern, your boots in the dirt. Jaskier stands to your left fiddling with a piece of his tunic, as he watches random village goers walk by.

“I’ve just had a thought.” He says from out of nowhere. You push yourself off of the wall, nonchalantly resting your hand on the hilt of your sword that’s positioned at your hip.

“Oh here we go.” You quietly mutter.

“Maybe we could all take turns on Roach.”

You chuckle, “Yeah that’s unlikely.”

“No seriously, we have to walk all the time from village to town to castle to wherever the fuck the money and monsters are....so we should take turns riding Roach.” He argues, trying to get you on board with his new idea.

“I mean...I guess you do make a compelling argument.” You tell him with a shrug.

“See! I’m telling you Y/N, when that grumpy old snowbear comes back outta the tavern from whatever indulgences he’s getting into....I’m gonna tell him.” Jaskier exclaims, ever so sure of himself.

You give him a half-convinced nod, “You do that. I’ll watch from over there, by the carpet seller.” You tell him as you head towards the table across the road. His eyes widen at the realization that your a no-go for his plan to get Geralt of all people to share Roach. “What? You’re not going to help at all. This is Geralt. He won’t give a flying fuck about what I’m saying...but if I have you...we have a winning argument.” He tries his best to persuade you, but you appear unflinching as you turn around to look at him.

“Jask, I’ve know Geralt awhile...he’s not gonna go for it.”

“But Y/N.” Whines Jaskier with a pout. You step in closer to put your hand on his shoulder in an attempt at trying to comfort him, while you give him your most sincere smile.

“Listen there’s a vender over there who sells really nice travel bearing boots....some of them look very....er up to your tastes.” His face falls at that, so you abruptly remove your hand from his tense shoulder.

“Well you’re certainly no help, thanks for nothing. Sorry I’m not...well...whatever you are that makes it so easy to just walk everywhere and not apparently get tired.” He sasses, folding his arms and turning around with a dramatic huff. You roll your eyes at Jaskier’s pettiness, no matter how small the act.

You shake your head with a annoyed frown, “It’s not my fault I’m just not a little bitch.” You jest, whisper yelling the last part, gods Jaskier can be such a little princess.

You casually mosey on over by the shoe vender taking a good look at their diverse array of footwear, you look up again to glance over at a pouty Jaskier that’s looking over his shoulder to find you. When your eyes meet you stick your tongue out at him and he quickly looks away, staring intently back at the tavern door.

“Hello miss are you looking for something specific?” Asks an older man from behind the counter. You turn towards him with a small smile, “Oh um, I’m just looking for a friend.....just seeing what you got.” You reply giving him a nod as you look down at all the boots. He does have a nice gathering of travel wear as well as for parties and...

“Oh come on Geralt. Some of us don’t have a horse. It’s only fair.”

Your head snaps up at the sound of Jaskier, you watch as Geralt ignores him while he starts walking over towards you. His face is a blank slate of annoyance a he makes his way to where you’re standing as he tries to get Jaskier off his ass, with your help of course. “Y/N, did you have anything to with this.” He grumbles, stopping in front of you.

You look around his large frame at a pleading Jaskier, and then back up to him, “Nope.” You deadpan, Jaskier purses his lips together in frustration, as he walks around Geralt with his hands on his hips. He goes to open his mouth but you stop him, “I’ll just buy a horse Jask.” He stands back in surprise, before his brows furrow in confusion, “Okay as great as that sounds Y/N, how exactly are you going to afford a horse?” He wonders honestly, unsure of how you’d come up with the money. Considering the three of you low-key struggle as is to find an abundance of coin.

 You cross your arms over your chest while giving them both a confident smirk, “I’ll find a way believe me.” You assure them, Geralt nods as he turns to walk away and Jaskier still looks troubled.

You roll your eyes at him while you link your arm in his, the both of you begin to walk in Geralt’s direction. “I’d really like to know how you’re going to get us a horse...but then again, maybe I don’t.” He muses, you pull him in closer to you, whispering in his ear. “There’s a pack of bandits on the outskirts of the village woods. I plan on robbing them for coin and whatever other valuables they may have.”

His eyebrows raise as he tilts his head to you, “That’s smart. Hmm you’re gonna need a lookout or...ah right! A distraction.” He says excitedly, always ready to get into trouble with you whenever the opportunity arises. 

“Shhh...you want everyone to hear us. And besides I’m going alone.” He stops walking and holds onto both of your forearms. “Y/N. I need new material for a ballet, please let me go with you.....I mean the action, the danger, the gore, and uh...theft. So much potential.” He whisper yells while looking deeply into your shining eyes.

“If you keep giving me that look with those big blue eyes of yours I’ll crack. And last I checked you can’t exactly defend yourself as well as either myself or Geralt. You can get hurt Jaskier...” He holds up a finger to silence you.

“Y/N my love, my rose in a dead garden, my feisty foxy woman, my lamppost guiding me through a dark forest on a cold winters eve...my..”

“Jaskier.”

“What? I’m on a roll... you inspire me my dear.” He tells you grinning cheekily.

You shake your head smiling at him adoringly, “Gods alright, you can come along...but you’ll have to hide and....Stay. Out. Of. The. Way.” You warn him firmly, Jaskier just grins happily, bringing up his hands to cup your cheeks. “Ah, I love you.” He exclaims joyously, smashing his lips into yours. He pulls away abruptly leaving you dazed and wanting more, as he pulls you down the trail leading to Geralt and Roach.

“Eh..uh...okay then.” You mumble, smiling brightly like a huge lovestruck idiot. Dammit Jaskier with his stupid smile, and voice, and his even stupider charm. He’s the only person who’s able to break you enough to give in and let him get what he wants. If you could slap that infuriating grin right off of his smug face, but in all honesty you’d rather kiss it off him instead.

----

Later that evening you get up from your spot near the campfire. Geralt watches you suspiciously as he sits in broody silence trying to figure out what you’re up to. Jaskier finishes his rabbit leg, flicking the bone into the fire as he stands up to follow your lead. Geralt’s eyebrow raises, “And where are you two going?” He mutters. You snap your armored gauntlets onto your forearms while you look up at Geralt. “I’m finding coin.” You answer, reaching out to pick up your infamous metal chained whip, perfect for slaying monsters and taking out bandits and whoever else is in your way. “I’ll be back later, don’t follow me.”

“Oh and I’m coming too! I’ll have a fresh new ballot by this time tomorrow...it’ll be fantastic.” Gushes Jaskier, throwing his hands in the air for emphasis.

“Yeah...uh... he won’t be near me.” You assure Geralt with an honest nod. He shrugs, not wanting to bother in your guys’ business. “Alright then. Let’s get a go on things. A horse won’t buy itself after all.” Says Jaskier enthusiastically, putting his hands on his hips. You pull up your hood, turning to quickly grab your camouflaged scarf to then adjust the dark green material to help better conceal your face.

“Here you might want this.” You tell Jaskier as you hand him a dark cloak, he gladly accepts it, throwing it on with ease. “And this...just incase.” You add while handing him a small dagger that’s lying secured in its sheath. He cautiously takes it, giving you a nod as he tucks it into his vest. You stand back to give Jaskier a look up and down, as he fumbles around with his cloak, completely oblivious to your amused gaze.

“Jask!”

He suddenly stops, snapping his head up to look at you, his hair flopping into his eyes. “Yes, my love?”

“Let’s go.” You tell him while walking away into the woods and out of sight, Jaskier gives Geralt an ecstatic smile before abruptly turning on his heels to trail after you.

The forest is dark and heavy, a small breeze rocking the branches in a strange type of dance. You look up through the cracks in the forest canopy above you, a crescent moon shows a Cheshire Cat-like smile beaming down on you from the sky. The stars seem to twinkle from high into the heavens, while back on earth the night is cool and mysterious. Your eyes adjust to the darkness now that you’re away from the comfort of the campfire light as you bring your hand up to make a tiny flame so you don’t trip on the forest floor.

Your peaceful moment is intrusively interrupted by the rushed steps of your humble bard, who’s fumbling in the dark to try and keep up with you. You turn around just in time to catch him as he has amazingly tripped on a tree root. His arms flail out as you snatch him by his torso, you little flame going out as this clash has evidently lead the both of you into a aggressive hug of sorts that sends you crashing onto the forest floor. Your back hits the grass with a hard thud as a greater pressure holds you in place from above. You suck in a sharp breath as your eyes shoot open to the weight that’s pinning you to the ground, the smiling face of Jaskier is staring right into your eyes.

“Well aren’t we in quit the compromising of positions my dear.” Smirks your bard with a cheeky grin.

“One, Two, Thre..”

“Alright alright!” Whispers Jaskier as he quickly lifts himself off of you. He holds his hand out for you to take, ever the gentleman.

“You’re as blind as a bat, why did I let you come?”

“If not I would have annoyed you relentlessly for the next week, I’d even make a song about it. Let me think....my Y/N, she hissed at me like a cat and said I was as blind as a bat, she killed for coin and touches my loins ohhh I loveee..”

“I’ll shove a leave down your throat.”

“Jeesh alright touchy. I’ll behave, I promise. You will not hear another word from me.” He announces while pretending to zip his mouth shut.

“Yeah I’ve heard that before.” You retort while turning around and heading in the direction of the thieves camp, Jaskier holding onto your cloak and trying his hardest to stay silent.

The both of you walk for another ten minutes before you begin to hear laughter and the familiar scent of cooked deer roasting over a spit. Then your eyes spot a flicker of light through the dull color of the woods, a solid indicator of where these idiots are camped. You signal your discovery to Jaskier who nods and urges you onward. You take cautious steps as you get closer, you can see the men gathered around a blazing fire, small tents behind them, and their weapons by their feet. No horses unfortunately.

“Stay here and don’t draw any attention to yourself I’m gonna kill them and then take their valuables.”

“Isn’t that stealing?”

“Not if their dead Jask.”

“Huh. Yeah that sounds about right.”

You turn back around, slowly sliding out your dagger from within its sheath as you cautiously stalk closer to the oblivious men. Without warning you lunge at the closest one, slitting his throat from ear to ear as you stab your weapon into the next one who didn’t even have time to stand. You turn around, quickly jumping over the burning fire as you plunge your dagger straight into the eye of the next unlucky fellow to cross your path. Suddenly an arrow lodged itself into your right shoulder with a sickening thwack sound. You turn towards the terrified bowmen, a flash of anger shining through your eyes as they catch sight of the local wanted rapist. You flick your hand with ease, your instrument of death slicing deep into his vulnerable chest. He drops his bow and arrow as a trail of blood begins dripping out of his parted lips. His eyes are as big as saucers when he abruptly lets out a pained gasp, falling to the forest floor in a slump of limbs.

You swivel your head around the entire camp once again, not wanting to miss anything or anyone who might have escaped. Not a sound is heard but the rapid thudding of Jaskier’s heartbeat from behind a bush. Your ears prick at the gargled mumble of the scruffy looking rapist who just shot you. Oh right, you still have an arrow stuck into your side, must be the adrenaline. 

Taking care of that problem you pull it out, accidentally snapping it off before the pointy end has a chance to properly come out. Shit. Ignoring the dull throbbing in your shoulder, you focus your attention on the slowly dying man in front of you. Leaning down, you pull out your silver dagger, wiping the blood off on his clean sleeve before putting it back in your sheath.

“B..bi..bitch.” He mumbles through ragged breaths. You give him a sneer before crushing his jugular with your boot, another cockroach squashed.

“Y/N! That was bloody brilliant. They never even saw you coming.” Gushes Jaskier as he parts the bushes so he can jog over to you.

“Well that was the intention. Uh, look for any coin...I’ll look in their bags.” He currently nods, turning to do just that, he stops dead in his tracks at a large angry balding man across from the dying campfire.

“Uh, Y/N you may have missed one.”

Snapping your head of to Jaskier you turn to the angry huff of a monster of a man who’s glaring dagger at you and your bard. Suddenly the man lets out a loud battle cry as he charges with his axe towards Jaskier and you. 

“Oh fuck.” Gasps Jaskier as you swiftly race to his side while throwing your outstretched arm in front of him. A furious blast of orange and yellow flames emitting from your palms and straight into the bulking thief, he lets out a blood curdling scream as the flames lick up his sides. Burning him alive within seconds, he falls to the ground as he thrashes and groans. Not even fifteen seconds later has he finally stopped moving, all that's left of him is a blackened charred body staining the once green grass of the clearing. 

 “Well...uh...that’ll do it.” Breaths out Jaskier as you turn to him, dissipating away the flames from your hand as you do so.

“I hope he didn’t have any coin on him, shit.”

----

The two of you walk back into camp, the fires gone to embers and Geralt is promptly snoozing in the grass while Roach nibbles at some leaves on the nearby tree. You walk over to your satchel, picking it up to stuff the concealed bundles of coin you were able to find earlier. Jaskier goes to sit down by the dimly glowing campfire as he watches you intently. You drop the old bag onto the ground with a clinky thud, deciding it best to take off your cloak and leather armored chest piece. Leaving your top half in a grey sleeveless shirt, you let out a tired sigh of relief.

“Oh..uh Y/N...you’re kinda bleeding.”

“Huh?”

“Your shoulder. Oh come here let me have a look.” States Jaskier firmly, already scooting himself in the grass so you can sit down in front of him. Not wanting to argue, and now fully well aware of the fresh arrow head still stuck in your shoulder, you oblige and sit down right next to him. He carefully touches your bare shoulder, a concentrated look on his handsome face as he studies the bloody slice in your skin.

“You’ve got an arrow stuck in there...it’s almost out but...uh...it may hurt when I force it out.” He says, his eyebrows furrowing to together in concern.

“Do your worst.”

He nods, giving you a crooked smile as he takes out a small dagger from under his bedroll. You look up to the stars as you brace yourself for the coming pain. Suddenly cool metal is placed delicately onto your skin, then it’s quickly pressed deeper into your flesh. You bite your lip as Jaskier slices open your wound even more so he can get a better grasp onto the arrow head. Finally he finds it, pulling on the broken piece of wood attached to the silver arrow and out it goes. 

“That’s gonna be a nasty one. The bloke must’v stuck you with a silver arrow...those things are sharp.” Chimes the bard as you stop his hand from covering your cut with some cloth. 

“Let me cauterize it first, heals quicker that way.” He sets his hands down and watches intently as you conjure a tiny flame from your two fingers, carefully dragging it across your wound as you hold the pain in, it melts and fuses the parted skin together as you can smell the nasty scent of burning skin and bubbling blood.

“Well at least this little midnight raid seemed like a success...those fuckers were loaded with coin. By gods Y/N we’re gonna have the best horse and...hmm I’m just imagining all the wine we could snag while we’re still near town.” He says while raising an eyebrow to you.

You roll your eyes as he then carefully wraps your shoulder in spare cloth, you turn yourself around to face him fully now. The both of you sitting together in the grass as the remainder of the fire glows lowly in the warm summer air. Jaskier gives you a smile as he adjusts the sleeves of his shirt. “You wouldn’t mind sharing a spot in the grass with your loyal bard now would you?”

“Not at all.” You reply with a yawn, Jaskier flashes you an excited grin as he pats at the soft ground, making the two of you a makeshift bed. 

Once satisfied with his work he lays himself down, looking up to you with those big blue eyes of his, pleading for you to join him. Tired and in need of a good cuddle you curl up into his side as he throws an arm around your waist. Careful as not to touch your injured shoulder in the process, your eyes lock with his as a bright smile plants itself onto both of your faces.

“Well if you aren’t the most radiant creature I’ve ever met. Oh and best part...you’re all mine.” Whispers Jaskier as he lightly kisses your nose, you let out a tiny giggle in reply, ever grateful for this tuneful idiot and the fact that Geralt is in a deep sleep.

“I took an arrow for you, when we get to the next tavern you better show me how radiant I really am.” Jaskier let’s out an amused snort before kissing you in an attempt at making you feel better for the arrow wound. You kiss him back, not being able to resist his charms for much longer, even if your shoulder still feels sore as it slowly heals underneath the cloth.

[sorrelsky]

it’s quiet, after

[CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR CRITICAL ROLE EPISODE 102 ]

The hall is familiar now, when Vax steps into it, and he’s unsure if the fact reassures him or not.

(It should disconcert him – it should terrify him, the way it did when he came here first via Vasselheim, dripping something else’s blood and offering the whole of him to a house not yet his.)

(They say you get used to anything, with time – especially if you want to.)

When he walks toward the stairs it’s like wading through sludge, so heavy and cold are his legs. It reminds him of how he came to be here, this time -- not through prayer, no, nor through pilgrimage. If he concentrates, thinking hard through the haze of waking up newly dead, he can still remember the feeling of the spell as it unspooled him into nothing.

He doesn’t have to focus to remember how Vex – to remember – to –

Vecna’s laughter threads through him, low and sibilant, and he grits his teeth against it before setting a hand on the banister. The stairs spiral endlessly up and he wishes, in a rare moment of want, for wings.

When he reaches the top, there’s an alcove, a little room framed by heavy, dark curtains. The inside is a balcony, overlooking an empty room that lies beyond – he finds her standing there, waiting for him. The slope of her shoulders is almost melancholic; but her face is impassive as she looks out over the room below, and when she turns to face him her expression does not change.

Usually he’d offer some sort of prayer, or wait for her to greet him. This time he steps forward into the alcove, feeling the brush of golden threads as he crosses the threshold, and fixes his eyes on the blank slate of her face.

“Where’s Vex?”

- - - - - - -

They go stumbling out of the darkness and into long, vibrant grass, in the sudden quiet of the Feywild. Scanlan drops face first, exhausted, and without a word Vex reaches down to roll him over, pulling a waterskin from her side. Trinket makes a low, miserable sound and shuffles closer, nosing at his master and Scanlan alike until the latter stirs.

“This, I did not miss,” he says, feebly, and Vex gives him a watery smile before helping him up.

“Pike,” Percy snaps, sharp in his distress, and everyone looks over to see him bracing Keyleth as she reels. She drops his hand like it’s a hot iron in the next second, then plants her palms on the damp earth and heaves, retching as one long shudder arcs its way up through her spine.

Someone shouts something, muffled through the tide of her heartbeat in her ears. She digs furrows into the soil with her fingers, feeling some small part of her shriek with familiar terror at the thought of harming fey land; but she digs anyway, feels the loam coat her skin and tries to slow her breaths but she can’t – she can’t – she couldn’t –

“She’s hyperventilating,” Percy says, before Pike nudges him out of the way and he falls unhappily quiet. The cleric’s armor is still steaming, as she limps closer, and she has an eye on Grog until the moment she’s crouching in front of Keyleth instead.

(Grog is not looking at anyone, or anything for that matter. He’s looking up, out into the dusky expanse of the sky, and thinking hard about how seven without one is just – six, sitting and waiting for the one to return.)

“Keyleth,” Pike says, very gently. She waits until the druid twitches, before slowly taking her face into her hands. “Keyleth, you’re alright. We’re alright. Can you tell me what my name is?”

“I’m sorry,” Keyleth whispers back, instead. “I couldn’t – the plane shift – we were there already, I had to – we had to come here, but–,” Her voice cracks and she stops, biting down on her lip until blood beads.

Pike pulls her down, guides her until she can wrap her stiff, aching arms around her and hold her tight. “Shh, Keyleth. You did the best you could.” Pressed between them, her symbol lights faintly up, and she feels Keyleth stiffen, then calm as the restoration spell washes through her. “We all did. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I did,” she says, so quietly that Pike almost doesn’t hear. Her hands, streaked with dirt and soot, grip Pike a little tighter at the waist, and she presses her face into Pike’s neck. “I did.”

Across the clearing, Vex climbs to her feet. Seeing her look around, Percy opens his mouth – and hesitates, seeing the bundle of leather and cloth that she’s pulled from Scanlan’s grasp. Her knuckles are white, where she’s gripped one of the dagger hilts sticking out of the folded cloak.

“Where’s Vax?”

- - - - - - -

“Alive,” Vax repeats, as close to reverent as he’ll ever get.

The Raven Queen nods. “Her thread is unbroken.”

She looks back out over the balcony’s edge, while he sags against the alcove wall and presses his sob back with the heel of one hand. Only when he’s recovered himself does she turn, the long tail of her robes sliding along the floor.

“And what of you, Vax’ildan?” She cocks her head slightly, birdlike, and waits while he dries his face. “What of your fate?”

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, after a moment. She doesn’t move, but he senses the faintest raising of an eyebrow and elaborates. “I don’t, really. If they – if they’re still alive, all of them, then they’ll…”

It’s an unspoken question, and when she steps forward and brushes by him he follows her like a starved plant seeking the light. She leads him down the hall and into a darkened room, lit only by the faint glow of a pool of water that sits in the center of the tile floor. The shape of it resembles the altar at Vasselheim, and though its waters are clear it seems just as deep.

“No others have passed into my domain yet,” the Queen says quietly, plucking the hem of her robes up with a pale hand. She puts one bare leg into the water, then another, standing in the shallow edge of the pool as the water begins to brighten. “I sense them in your native plane, though they still carry the essence of the Shadowfell with them.”

He steps in after her, not minding the cold, and the water flattens into a pane that shows him a rapid series of images. The sounds flicker through his head too, muffled as if coming up through the water itself – there’s Grog’s familiar bellow, as he lunges across the tower’s top for Delilah; a bright spray of lightning, as Percy ducks into and out of the image, and Pike, wreathed in flames too bright to look at until they flicker abruptly out.

He fixes his eyes on Vex, who has one hand fisted in Trinket’s fur and the other reaching for Percy’s arm. Keyleth shouts once, her voice a crackling glimmer of desperation, and in a blink they’re all gone, a faint spark of magic all that’s left behind.

The water goes clear after, lapping quietly at his ankles once released from the scrying. He keeps looking down at it, until the Raven Queen lays a hand gently on his shoulder.

“Where they go from here, we know not,” she reminds him, her voice as cold and delicate as the porcelain of her mask. “And wistfulness is a slow poison, which makes ghouls of unhappy ghosts.”

He gives a tiny nod, before taking the hand she offers and stepping back out of the pool. They walk down the hall together, and down the stairs into the main hall; and here she takes him by both shoulders, her taloned grip firm but not unkind, and she looks down at him in pensive silence.

He holds her gaze, waiting not with bated breath, but with thoughts of Vex.

(His life for hers.)

(Always, always, his life for hers.)

“I am proud of you,” she decides, and she releases him before stepping back. “My champion, bold and grave.” The room darkens, as she gives him a very faint smile, and he watches in silence as her form flickers and becomes something feathered and vast. “Your thread has been a busy one, and you have woven your fate into something to call your own.”

Vax looks down at the single line of gold that leads from his chest up, in tangles and loops and braids, into her feathered crown.

He sees its twin, spooling free and unbroken out into the darkness, but always lingering so close to his. It leads up, out of the web and into the endless dark, where the sounds of the living realms drift faintly into the Queen’s domain.

“Will you let me stay?” he asks, tipping his head back even further so he can look into her dark eyes. He waits a beat, listening to the sluggish turn of his own heart in his cold chest, before he opens his mouth again. “I’d like to stay. To listen.”

The Raven Queen clicks her beak and considers, the gold draping her form glimmering as she thinks. After a pensive silence she relents, flickering down into the shape of a human again so she can lay a hand on his cheek.

“Not too long,” she says, kindly, “but yes.”

- - - - - - -

“Gone,” she repeats, watching a muscle clench in Percy’s jaw as he looks away. Keyleth makes a broken sound from where she’s sitting and Pike soothes her again, murmuring too quietly for Vex to hear.

“The lich,” Scanlan says softly, from where he’s standing next to her. “He disintegrated.” When she looks down, he’s wrapping up a small cloth bundle in his lap, tying careful knots over the handfuls of ash that she glimpses inside. There’s a flash of blue, right before Scanlan ties the last corners over – he’s saved the feathers, tucked them into the dust and bone for safekeeping. The sight nearly guts her, more than hearing the news, more than the feeling of his armor lying limp and unworn in her arms.

In the next second something sharp and bright uncurls in her – hope, maybe – and she wheels toward Keyleth and Pike. “Then we’ll bring him back.”

Pike looks at her first, with a trembling, weary pain in her face that makes Vex want to scream. “Vex… his body. I’ve always – we’ve always brought someone back using–,”

“I can do it,” Keyleth interrupts. Her voice is hollow but when she looks up her eyes are embers, glowing frail but fierce. “We have – ashes. His. That’s enough for me.”

“Keyleth,” Pike says, softly, but Keyleth shakes her head and gently untangles herself so she can stand. The mantle at her shoulders bristles, leaves and vines shifting in a breeze that winds up around her from the otherwise still grass.

“I can do it,” she says again, looking straight at Vex. There’s too much bound up in her gaze – guilt, maybe, but a measure of desperation too, and a thorny love that feels too intimate and too familiar to look at. Vex drops her eyes.

The armor sits in her hands, empty. Somewhere in it, there’s a note addressed to her, and it’s remembering this that makes her look back up, her mouth a hard line.

"Yes,” she says. “Let’s do it, then.”