#perc'ahlia fanfic

[everythingisconfetti]

Whatever it Takes

(also on ao3 here)

Vex leaves once the spell is cast. She takes the long way back to the castle, needing the air, the quiet.

"We did this," she'd said, and had taken in the looks of accusation that surrounded her. We did this. Flashes of grey skies, bodies in the wind, the creaking of ropes.

Thirty years, and still, the past will not leave. Pain-filled memories, so tangible, and Delilah's thread running through so many of them. She steadies herself against the cool brick of a wall. We have to help, she'd said— but what if Pike can't separate the souls? How can she live with herself if she brings Delilah back into this world, back to this city, amongst her children? 

She finds Percy in the living room, fire roaring in the grate. He’s crosslegged on the floor, his cane propped against the wall, glasses discarded on the side table. Gwen is nestled in his lap. Her head is tucked beneath his chin, book open in front of her. Vex stands at the door for a long moment, taking in the tremble of his hand where it rests on their daughter’s shoulder, the clench of his jaw, the unmasked fear in his gaze. She clears her throat, watches him tamp down the automatic startle. Gwen jumps up, running to her and hugging her leg, her tail swishing and one hand still keeping her place in her book.

“Mummy, you were gone for hours! Look, Daddy found me an engineering book!” Vex runs a hand through Gwen’s hair, ruffling it, swallowing hard against the ache in her chest.

“That’s lovely, dear. Can you take that to your room and get ready for supper?”

Gwen pulls back, scanning her face in that too-perceptive way she has. “Is everything alright?”

Vex pulls her close once more, holding tight for a moment too long. “Of course, everything is just fine. Run along now, okay?”

Once they’re alone, heavy door shut firmly against little ears, Vex lowers herself to the ground next to her husband. His hands are shaking, clasped together, nails digging into his palms. She takes them gently, prying them apart. “Your knees are not going to thank you for spending this much time on the ground.”

He doesn’t look at her. “I thought this was over. I thought we’d finished this.” 

“Pike won’t let her come back. She won’t. And I had to do something, Percy, I couldn’t just stand there, not when— not when she died because of me.”

“Not your fault,” he tells her, an automatic reassurance grown from years of guilt and self-blame. Then, sharper, “I won’t let her take my family. Not again. We promised. We promised that we would raise them in a world better than the one we had. You know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep that promise.”

She takes his face in her hands, runs her thumbs over the crow’s feet that have deepened with the years, the coarse scruff of his beard, waits until his eyes come to rest on hers. “There’s nothing we wouldn’t do. I’m right here. I’m beside you, no matter what.”

He closes his eyes, rests his forehead against hers briefly before dropping his head to her shoulder. It’s not often Percy cries, and he’s almost silent now; the only signs in the trembling gasps of his breath and the dampening of her dress under his head. Vex pushes her own fear down in favour of holding him up, cradling him to her and running her fingers through his hair, repetitive, grounding. She stares into the dying fire, slowing her own breathing until she feels him copying, steadying himself, eventually pulling back. He runs a hand over his eyes. “Sorry,” he tells her, voice rough.

“Don’t. It’s a lot, and I’m scared too, and just— don’t apologise, please.” 

There will be more talking later, more fears that are easier shared in the dark, in the sanctity of their bed. For now she watches him build his walls back up, smoothing out the creases in his coat and settling his glasses back on his nose. He winces as he stands, and she hands him his cane. “Are you going to see Cassandra?”

He sighs, weariness evident. “Yes, she should be informed. I’ll be back for supper, though.”

“We won’t start without you.”

He takes her by the waist, kissing her quick and tender in parting. He turns back with one hand on the doorknob. “I’m not angry, you know. That you’re trying to help them. None of us would be here if we hadn’t had that kind of help. But if this— whatever Pike’s doing— if it fails or goes wrong, I will do anything necessary to put that right. You need to know that.”

Vex looks around the room, at the family portraits on the walls, the artworks and trophies and books that line each surface like a map of memories of the years spent building this life. She looks up, chin high, sees her fierce love for her family mirrored in Percy, and nods. “Of course, darling. Whatever it takes.”

[katia-dreamer]

Dawn

Vex wakes up lying on top of a hard surface that is only marginally softened by her cloak. She’s also naked and quite cold.

Where is she?

She hears a familiar deep groan beside her and finally opens her eyes. Her dark vision allows her to see Percy beside her and the piles of money and jewels surrounding them. That’s when she remembers the night before when Percival gave her a tour of the treasury while they shared a bottle of wine. She recalls the kisses that quickly led to more and the indulgent sex that followed.

She sighs as she moves slightly closer to Percy. Her skin brushes against his, and Percy shivers.

“You are cold,” he grumbles, his voice still heavy with sleep. 

“I’m sorry, darling,” she answers. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” he assures her.

“We fell asleep down here.”

“We did.”

Vex laughs, and Percy does too. His hands rest on her waist, giving her a gentle squeeze. The gesture is more familiar than before, and even though his skin is cold, she honestly doesn’t mind. “That was probably not our wisest decision.”

“No, it wasn't. Do you know what time it is?”

“No idea.”

She rests her cheek on his chest, and his heartbeat is a lovely rhythm against her skin. She enjoys the sensation while she drinks in the wonderful sight of all the treasure surrounding them. “I’m glad you brought me down here, darling. But maybe-”

“We should move elsewhere? Agreed.”

They get up, and Vex hurriedly slips into her clothes, warmth slowly starting to chase away the chill that has crept into her bones. She finds the candle from last night and relights it so Percy can see. Percival does not bother getting fully re-dressed, simply choosing to don his trousers and shirt with his coat buttoned up over the top, leaving his waistcoat hanging over one arm. She takes his hand and leads him away from the vault. As they walk through the deserted hallways, more light gradually appears. When they arrive upstairs, they get their first glimpse of the beautiful, soft dawn spiling into the castle through the high windows. 

“I’m going back to bed,” Percy grumbles.

“You do that.” She smiles at him. “I’m going to take a walk.”

He rolls his eyes but then gives her a quick peck on the cheek. “Will I see you later?”

“At breakfast.” 

Percy brushes his hand through her hair, which she has yet to rebraid. (He’d been particular about it being loose last night. ) He is pensive for a moment, and she thinks he might say something, but then he must decide against it because he gives her one last kiss and then goes on his way.

Vex, on the other hand, goes out the door and heads to the Parchwood. 

She knows that something is simmering inside of her, that there is a wound she’s ignoring, but she does not want to think about Scanlan right now. 

She is determined to enjoy a morning with only the vibrant world of the forest and the dawn to keep her company. 

-

[topaz-mutiny]

Okay so for me this is less an actual fanfic thing and more an opinion of mine being put through the lens of these characters, because my brain won’t stay quiet, and things that have happened in the campaign so far have changed my thoughts on how I feel about interactions between the characters. I used to be incredibly neutral on this, until we learned of the existence of a primordial fire shard.

So the TL;DR of my argument is: Ashrym now, Callowmoore later, after the characters, the cast, and some fans stop being weird and overly-pushy with the “it’s destiny” thing.

Maybe you agree, maybe you don't. Maybe you change your mind, if not nbd.

Contains spoilers up to and including episode 85 of Bells Hells. Nothing happens beyond a lot of swearing.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There wasn’t really any discussion between Bells Hells about where to camp and rest after this terrifying, extensive, exhausting day – only a collective effort to finagle everyone through the waterspout and into the portal that Fearne had discovered. From there it was easy to emerge from the mountain lake and find what looked like a decent spot to set up camp.

Fearne offered to stay up on watch first; she needed some time to think about what happened today. She didn’t like feeling scared. And today definitely had a lot of things that scared her.

First watch went by relatively fine, which was a relief since Fearne was so pre-occupied, and then it was time to wake up those who would be on second-watch. She watched Ashton be roused, and he wandered to a decent spot to take up watch. Looking around, he seemed far away from the other person up on watch, and everyone else was settled into sleep. They were, perhaps, far enough away that the two of them could have a brief conversation before she cuddled up with Orym.

Her quiet approach was ruined by a yawn that escaped her mouth. She really was exhausted like everyone else, but this felt important. “Hey.” She said through the end of her yawn.

“Hey.” They grunted back. “Aren’t you heading to bed?”

“Maybe in a little bit.” Fearne resisted another yawn. And then, “Today was a little fucked up.” Ashton gave out a deep, gravelly chuckle.

“Yeeeaah. Yeah it was.” He said. “Fuck.” Fearne noticed a quick side-eye Ashton gave her, and they looked… worried. “Didn’t think you wanted to talk so soon after… fuck, you know.” They shrugged ineffectually.

Shit, right. She steepled her fingers, tapping them together as she thought about it.

“Okay, well, I maybe am still a little bit mad about it.” Fearne refrained from saying who she was mad at, maybe even mad at multiple people. She had looked away, but still caught the flinch in Ashton’s reaction. “But that’s not what I wanna talk about. I wanna talk about…” about what? The Ludinus funnel? FCG almost dying right in front of her (though she Had A Plan, she thought, don’t worry about it)? Otohan’s reaction to her being Ruidusborn? What that meant when butted up against the reality that she was a designer-baby? “… stuff.”

“… Okaaay?” Ashton looked hapless.

“IthinkIwannatalkaboutdestiny” Fearne blurted out. Ashton blinked at her. “I mean, I wanna talk about me. Stuff I’m being told about me. Stuff that’s–“ making me scared, she omits “– that I don’t think I like very much.”

“Ah.” There was a shift in Ashton’s posture, and they looked a lot more comfortable. Empathetic. That’s why Fearne singled out Ashton after all, they too kind of were dealing, dealt with, this stuff too. Even though she was still mad about it.

“When we were trying to get away from Otohan, she said something that kind of fucked me up a little.” Fearne started explaining, “She said I was, like, central to some of their plans? And it made me think about how I was made, instead of born, and… and I don’t like it.” She doubly didn’t like it, because wasn’t Imogen supposed to be the one central to their plans? The super special savior of Predathos? “What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”

There was a small pause.

“I’m not sure if I’m allowed an opinion on this shit anymore.” Ashton finally responded, “The last time I got fucked up by this destiny bullshit I…” he suddenly got very quiet “… exploded. Fuckin’ literally.”

Yes, we know, Ashton. We were there. Fearne thought about his agonized confession that they’d rather die than hurt Fearne like that. During Fearne’s watch, Fearne had started to worry that she might be next, and she absolutely did not want to hurt her friends (especially Orym) like that. Her brows furrowed.

“I think something or someone is pushing me to explode.”

“You… want me to keep an eye out?”

“Maybe. I dunno.”

“Fearne, fuck, whatever you want me to fuckin’ do, just tell me.” Ashton’s stare was intense, serious. As Fearne peered a little closer she noticed his body language screamed regret, anxiety, pleading. Like they’d do anything for anyone of the Hells, please don’t leave them.

Fearne huffed. “I don’t know! Maybe I just wanted to tell someone, and I told you, because you got a little messed up and now I’m getting messed up too.” Ashton nodded, as though that made sense, though Fearne could still sense the tension.

There was a significantly longer pause. Fearne made no move to go to bed. Yet. And eventually was the first to speak up again.

“And I also wanted to talk now because if it were any other time I think the others would push us to kiss or something right about now.” Fearne looked at Ashton. Ashton cleared their throat, embarrassment flushing his cheeks.

“Ah, yeah. They can mind their own fuckin’ business.”

“It is a little weird.”

Ashton was turning redder. Purple-r? Dark green-er? Fearne forgot what color his blush was and couldn’t see well enough in the dark.

“Plus there’s that shard bullshit.” Ashton said.

“Huh?”

“Everyone started getting really weird about us after these fucking shards became a thing. More destiny bullshit.”

“Oh.” That’s right. The shards were from Primordial lovers, or something. Bells Hells didn’t just make that up, did they?

He doesn’t say it out loud, but Fearne could easily imagine Ashton saying “Fuck destiny.” They definitely seemed like they were resisting saying something. Being nice? Or thinking that they don’t deserve to have an opinion? Would they have been okay with it if their friends were just regularly cajoling and these lover shards didn’t exist?

Well, that kind of sucks.

Despite her lingering anger over The Shard Incident, what she told Chetney afterwards was still true. She liked him a little bit, whatever that meant. And she still maybe wanted to do things that made them happy. Maybe. A little. And it didn’t seem like a full-on Laudna and Imogen style relationship was going to do that; would probably make them feel even more uncomfortable and think it’s all just because of the shards and not that they kind of maybe like each other for realsies.

It was kind of hard to realize that was what she was feeling, but now that she articulated it to Chetney, it was a lot easier to notice. And that Ashton might kind of sort of feel the same? But they’re refusing to act on it now because of the shards.

“Yeah, fuck destiny.” Fearne says. Ashton starts to look relieved. Maybe they can talk about it later, after they talk about The Shard Incident and she stops feeling mad at them and herself, after the topic of the shards becomes a vague background memory to everyone else. An intrusive thought streaks through her mind – the thought that she’d be fine if they just became friends with benefits – and maybe she’d think about that later when she’s not mad. Maybe.

She was feeling a little better, to her relief. Now that someone else besides FCG knows what Otohan said to her, it felt a bit less like she was going to get strangled by her own worries. But she didn’t want to go to bed yet.

What she did want to do right now was make Ashton happy. And her own feelings weren’t the only things Fearne had started to notice. And realized she probably would have noticed retroactively. The shards, currently, were a problem, for one way to make Ashton happy right now. But there was another way that kind of sounded fun to get the ball rolling, at least until they could talk more. Ashton seemed about ready to tell her to go to bed, the start of an inhale.

Zero warning. No decorum. Fearne dove in headfirst as she always does.

“So when are you going to tell Orym that you like him?”

Ashton’s inhale became a strangled noise of coughing as he started choking on their own spit. Fearne, for her part, looked Absolutely Innocent (mischievous) as the genasi struggled to quiet their coughs before it could wake up the entire group, or draw the attention of the other person on watch.

“Fearne, what the fuck?” Ashton’s voice was pitched low to a panicked whisper, hoarse from coughing.

“What?” Perfectly innocent smile. Ashton tried to wheeze back an answer, but couldn’t through trying to suppress more coughing, and failing to suppress the extreme flustered blush that now covered their entire face, obvious even in the darkness. “If everyone wasn’t so focused on the shards I’m pretty sure they would’ve noticed too.”

“But – fuck – I don’t… where did… he’s–“ Ashton stuttered. They covered their face with their hands and groaned, “The fuck do you mean?”

“What do you mean what do I mean?”

“You’re saying I, fuck, I… fucking…”

“Like Orym, my very best friend.”

“That. What does that mean? And might fuckin not, you don’t know. I don’t know. Fuck!”

Fearne thought about it. She didn’t know like, a definition.

“You don’t know?” she asked.

“No. Maybe? No.” his emphatic response.

“But you’re feeling something.” Ashton tried crushing their face even further into their hands.

“And what the fuck is it?” Ashton demanded. Their hands still covered their face, absolutely refusing to look at her. He almost looked like he wanted to run off the nearest cliff.

Hmm. Did Ashton seriously know less about these kinds of feelings than she did? Was that what he was trying to explain?

“It’s like…” Fearne thought about the little tryst she had with Deanna and Chetney. It was fun, and glorious, and she was excited, but… no, not exactly what she was asking about Ashton and Orym. She thought about Imogen and Laudna, and their recent admission to being together. That was kind of it, but didn’t seem like the right kind of description. Fearne thought about why she brought this up in the first place.

“It’s like, wanting to hang out a bit more…” she began. Ashton looked like he was glaring at her through his hands, but it was probably still out of embarrassment. He was paying very close attention to what she was saying. “… and also, maybe, saying and doing nice things for someone, just because. Something chaotic and random." Ashton removed their hands from their face and settled on having their arms crossed. Their face was still darkened with a blush, but were at least willing to show it now. Was there anything else? “And sometimes it feels like you drank a hard liquor and your stomach gets all hot, but you never even get tipsy.”

Ashton still looked like they wanted to throw themselves off a cliff.

“Does that sound familiar?” Fearne asked when Ashton failed to respond to her rambling. Some small night bird let out a haunting call.

Ashton mumbled something under their breath, at last, but Fearne couldn’t hear.

“Ashton?”

“… You’re really gonna make me fuckin say it out loud, aren’t you?” Ashton grumbled.

“You don’t have to.” Fearne said. She thought about Chetney. “But it might help.”

“Fuuuck.” Ashton pinched the bridge of his nose before looking away, refusing to make eye contact with the impossible faun. “So, maybe, hypothetically, some of what you said sounds a little fucking familiar.”

“And?”

“And maybe, I might tell Orym about it.”

“Soon?”

“This is a big fucking maybe, Fearne. Besides, you remember what Orym said, right?” and now, Ashton was questioning her.

“About what?”

“About whether or not it’s okay to miss Dorian.”

It kind of crushed her soul to remember Orym’s confession. She missed Dorian lots, oh so much, and she was pretty sure Orym did too. Orym was her best friend, and they traveled so much together. And he still felt… guilty. Over being a widower and having new friends and family (and maybe more?). But he also said how horrifically lonely he was, even with Fearne there right beside him.

She looked at Orym, curled up by the fire, and frowned.

“Maybe that’s something you two can talk about. After you tell him what you’re feeling.” Fearne offered. Ashton looked skeptical. Like he was thinking he would immediately fuck everything up. “Orym’s not going to be mean about it, I don’t think.”

“No,” Ashton agreed, “He’s going to be sad and guilty about it. And then I’m gonna feel fucking sad and guilty about it.”

Fearne smiled, “I think that’s why Orym needs his friends, Ashton. To help him feel less sad and guilty.”

“Orym would disagree.”

“I’m not saying he should stop feeling those things. Will was very important to Orym. Still is important. But… it’s eating him alive.”

“Hmm.”

“He might do something stupid and reckless because of it.”

“You think Orym’s a time bomb?”

“Maybe a little one.” Fearne sighed, then walked up to Ashton and pointed at his chest. “Tell him you like him. It’ll be good for you. Whatever happens after, happens after, so don’t worry about it right now.”

“I don’t even know if that’s true.” Ashton shrugged, leaning away. “But fine, I maybe. Might. Might, Fearne.” He stressed as Fearne started smiling deviously at him.

Good enough, she supposed. “Ooookaay then. Have a good night.” She sauntered over to the sleeping Orym, and began to curl over him to sleep, leaving Ashton standing in the moonlight, thinking.

Fearne was feeling a lot better.

[artistanilu]

First commission of the year! Thank you to my dear friend who commissioned me to make this for her! If you like Vox Machina or are part of the fandom be sure to send her some love as well! Please do not use without permission.

@officialtrashbin

Fanfic: archiveofourown.org/works/42889395

[utilitycaster]

my biggest impediment to enjoying romance fanfic is that I think I just fucking hate pet names. I don't find them sweet or romantic even when it's canon for ships I like, so when people put noncanon ones in it doesn't feel like a cute extrapolation, it feels like someone is secretly putting zucchini in my chocolate cake.

[blorbologist]

Wanted

[TLOVM season 2 spoilers up to episode 3!]

[Perc’ahlia / G / 1.4k / Cross-posted to AO3]

“So.” Percy leans as he walks, to better spy her reaction when he asks, “a rebellious phase?”

Vex, fiddling still with her retrieved feathers, quirks a brow. Undecided, apparently, as to if she wants to smirk or frown. “Something like that. Though I’m not sure poaching a monster qualifies.”

“Call it cunning, instead? But no, I was not referring to that.”

She really does wield those eyebrows like weapons. Aimed so precisely, arched with deadly intent. This one, nocked, wonders what he’s getting at. 

(A part of him laments that, caught in her sights, he could never deny her an answer. The rest of him wonders where the hells that came from. Put it back. It’s wiggling in his chest uncomfortably.)

“The wanted poster,” Percy explains. “The whole -” He waggles a finger over his right eye, ears, mimes twirling a chain around his wrist. It takes a gulp to draw a line around his neck. Hidden well, he hopes. (Probably in vain, knowing her, but she could always blame it on the cold.)

Her eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh, that! You forgot one part, darling.” 

When he hums an inquiry, Vex flips him off with a smirk. Percy snorts a laugh, drowned by the crunch of snow beneath their boots. Unclear, if he’s thankful for that or not - the sound was unbecoming his station. Gods, Cass would have a field day. But Vex catches it, and it draws that smirk into a more genuine smile, and. Well. He can live with the indignity. 

(What, and this is thought with heated emphasis, the fuck.)

“How could I forget?” he teases. 

Vex’s face pinches in thought as she picks around a log, stepping in Grog’s tracks. Percy is left to gangle over it lest he miss her reaction. 

“Forget, hm? Why did you bother to remember?” She waits for him. “Looking for a bounty of your own? You know, Whitestone’s coffers could probably cover our debt.”

He frankly hadn’t thought of that. “Maybe - probably not the best use of our funds, what with the rebuilding, the refugees, and the…” 

Dragons, yes. The dragons. 

The airy snowfall is heavy with the reminder. 

Vex sobers immediately. “That wasn’t - I’m sorry, that was in poor taste.”

“You were only joking, Vex,” he assures her. “I know.”

They fall silent. Vex might be listening in to the conversation up ahead - Grog describing with great reluctance the old man who apparently made a fool of him, Pike and Vax pressing him for details. Percy might want to, but he can’t, not quite. 

There’s still a voice, in the back of his mind, where the smoke used to be. It’s his voice, his own, a nagging little conscience that had been even smaller still when engulfed by the demon’s might. Chilling, still, to remember that. 

No: he’s listening to recent memory. 

(“Why would I listen to the cursed heir, who wallows in self-pity, begging to be trusted again?”)

He wants to fix things, badly. Somehow. Can’t: not Emon, not Vasselheim’s indifference, he can’t even pay off a bounty. 

A stray flake lands on his glasses. For a moment, Vox Machina ahead are framed and fractured by icy architecture smaller than he can fathom. Then it melts, and they’re a blur. 

Percy scowls to himself, huffing as he pulls his glasses off, fusses around for his kerchief in his coatpocket. There’s a tell-tale crackle of rucked paper, and oh, he can salvage this!

“Besides,” he tries. It comes out weaker than he’d like, so he gives it another shot: “Besides: I was not exactly memorizing the bulletin board.”

Vex gives him a little oh, curiosity clearly piqued. So he unfurls his prize with a grin. Her next oh is much more dramatic. He takes it as praise and warms appropriately - Vex is not one to dole that out lightly. 

He holds out the wanted poster with no small amount of pride. It’s torn at the top, from where it had been nailed in, still bearing a clean cut through its heart courtesy of Kashaw’s magic. 

“Percy, dear!” Vex gasps. She almost sounds impressed - or maybe indulgent. The thought should rankle him, but he takes it gladly. “Since when are you a thief?”

“Figured you could use a souvenir,” he says. As he’s talking, he realizes that’s a flimsy excuse for the uncharacteristic behavior, and adds: “Maybe they will lose track of the exact bounty without the reminder handy? Though I doubt they’ll forget your face.”

“So I’m unforgettable, hm?” She’s fishing for compliments: he sees the hook in her smile. (He’s very tempted to bite.) 

“Maybe.”

(Are they flirting? Is this what’s happening? What is happening?!) 

Vex gestures lazily with her hand. “Give that here.” 

Percy obliges, peering over her shoulder as she scrutinizes her likeness. It’s a touch difficult, with the angle, to compare her to the sketch. The mugshot has no trace of baby fat - how old were the twins when they went through this phase? He casts a furtive glance at her ears - the divots where piercings could go exist still. He’s also close enough to see that. Shit. 

“They didn’t get my nose right,” Vex complains, thwacking the parchment with the back of her hand. 

“I’m sure we can go back and leave a scathing review of their portraitist.” She giggles. “Is the rest accurate?”

Percy, loathe to admit it, wants to know. Very badly. 

Vex, oblivious to how he’s schooling his features, nods. “Oh, mostly. I don’t think I had any tops showing that little cleavage, though.”

Percy sputters. “What-”

She elbows him in the side. “Kidding.” A wink. “Mostly.” 

While Percy wrestles with his vivid imagination (he was perfectly willing to believe he’d imagined the smoke demon offering very detailed inspiration - this mind is a wretchedly creative thing), she continues: “It’s pretty much as I remember it. Very punk - it was fun, but not helpful for finding work. Catch more flies with honey than vinegar and all. Though Vax never really grew out of it.”

Percy squints at the dark shape ahead, arguing now with Scanlan about which way to go. “You don’t say.”

There’s a smile in her voice: satisfied, and perhaps smarting still. “We weren’t exactly the sort mommy dearest would approve of. Still aren’t, really.”

“I’d beg to differ.” Except he can’t, because his - Percy swallows so hard he feels it in his teeth. “Heroes of Emon, and Whitestone. Soon Tal’Dorei itself.”

Vex goes quiet. Not the easy lull of breaths and walking - striving for silence, to hide. Percy pauses, confused, and gives her time to unfreeze. 

“It’s strange,” she says, more to herself than him. It almost feels like a private moment, despite their ongoing conversation; Percy scrutinizes his boots. “Not used to being wanted, you know? You saw how it was, back there. Vax and I have rarely been popular, especially not as little punks.”

When he next looks back to her, Vex is whittling at him with her eyes. “Why the interest, darling? Want to give the look a try?”

He thinks of smoke and a hot gunbarrel and black powder. Shivers. “Not really, no.“

The truth of the matter is: he swiped the poster on a whim. No carefully considered advantage was to be gained, justification found only in hindsight. Because there was something about Vex with the piercings and the teardrop tattoo and the choker (the choker) that made him incredibly stupid in the moment. 

He’s Percival de Rolo. He’s never stupid. He can’t be stupid. Why is this whole thing making him stupid?

(Like he said - not stupid. He knows damn well why and hopes it will pass him by and quickly, before he does anything idiotic.)

(He just… wanted it.)

(Wanted her?)

(Oh, dear.)

“The tattoo.” He almost blurts it out - barely, barely it comes out casual. “Does Vax still have the gods-awful thing?”

“I think so,” Vex says. She grimaces. “That really was a look, huh? Too much eyeliner, made him look perpetually sad.”

“So sad,” Percy agrees as Vax hollers, “What about my look?!”

Falling snow slowly speckles the parchment with weak moisture as they heckle Vax, until a brief game of keep-away ends with it skidding over the snow by behest of the wind, lapping melt as it goes. By the time Percy catches it, half the twins’ faces are bleeding smears of black ink. 

(He’ll think of that image, later.)

(Later.)

(For now, they laugh and brush off the snow and continue on. Percy, warm despite the snow up his shirt. And trying very, very hard not to think about that choker.)

[pansexualnoodle5]

I keep imagining this conversation between a really young Gwendolyn -- maybe 5 years old -- walking into Percy's workshop and asking, "Why am I so different?" And not in a sad existential crisis kind of way, more of a simple, "Why is my skin red? Why do I have horns and a tail? Why doesn't anyone else look like me?"

And Percy. Percy knew this would happen eventually, and has been cobbling together an explanation since the moment she was born. He was just hoping Gwen would be old enough to truly understand. Mind you, she's every bit Percival's daughter; a genius in the making. But expecting a 5-year-old to grasp the things he did that resulted in his tiefling daughter may be asking a bit much.

So instead, he simply tells her that she's too young to hear that story just yet. Gwen, ever the curious little bugger, pouts at her lack of answers. But then, Percy picks her up, sets her on his desk, looks her in the eye and says:

"Listen closely, love. Make no mistake; you may indeed be different, but you are a de Rolo. You're a wonderful child, and your mother and I will always love you as much as we love your brothers and sisters. Never doubt that, and never let anyone tell you otherwise."

Little Gwen rolls her eyes with a smile and the sass of her mother. Papa didn't need to say all of that, of course she's never doubted it.

[star--joy]

5 Times People Thought Percy and Vex Were Dating...

And the one time they decided to prove them right.

Chapter Four: Jarett

-

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: None

Words: 1353

Originally posted: 6/15/22

Ao3 link: archiveofourown.org/works/43509219/chapters/120750616

Jarett’s smile is small but smug as he rapidly lifts his cross-bow and lets two bolts fly through the air, landing perfectly in the center two different bulls-eyes. Awed eyes drift in his direction, observing his carefully practiced skill. His smile ticks up a little more.

“You just did that to show off,” Vex accuses, lowering her own bow and leveling him with a knowing look.

“Maybe,” he agrees, unashamed. That’s his favorite part of the archery range: the amazed looks he receives from all the beginners as he hits target after target without breaking a sweat.

Vex chuckles, a gleam making itself at home in her eyes. “If you really want to show off, darling, we could have a competition.”

Jarett chuckles, quick to shake his head. “I’m not that foolish, Vex. A wise man knows when to turn down a losing challenge.” Although Jarett has practiced with professional trainers and the best of equipment his whole life, he is well aware that Vex has a confusing level of skill that even he can’t best. If she had any interest, he’s sure she could make it to the Olympics. Would probably win gold, too.

“Stop being boring,” Vex grumbles, not even breaking her attention from him as she pulls back another arrow and lets it soar, hitting the mark precisely.

“Boring? Me? Oh, Vex’ahlia, now it’s you who’s being the fool. I’m sure I could show you a good time in many other ways,” he hums, throwing her a wink.

Vex’s laugh echoes through the field, loud and unrestrained. Jarett grins, even blowing her a cheesy kiss to get some more giggles. She pretends to catch it, holding the imaginary kiss to her chest dramatically.

The clearing of a throat slices through their fun. Behind Vex, a man has approached. Jarett vaguely recognizes him from around campus, though they’ve never interacted, and the tight expression painted over his face makes him straighten.

Vex glances over her shoulder, but shares none of Jarett’s caution. Instead, her face lights up. “Percy!”

The man, ‘Percy’, attempts to cover his frustration with a strained smile. “Hope you don’t mind me stopping by. Just thought I’d bring you some lunch,” he hums, doggedly not looking at Jarett. Sure enough, he holds a paper bag in his hand that no doubt contains a meal.

The smile that settles onto Vex’s face is one Jarett has never seen before. She’s always seemed to have an edge to her, whether it’s playful or serious, but this little grin is the softest thing he can imagine. “You didn’t have to do that, darling,” she hums, propping her bow on the ground and unstrapping her gloves.

Percy shrugs, some of that discontent melting away. “Yes, well,” he stutters, pale pink dusting the tip of his nose. “You’re always badgering me about coming down here, anyway.”

Vex giggles, standing on her toes to lightly kiss his cheek.

Jarett is only brought back to himself when he registers his cross-bow slipping from the slackened muscles in his hands. He just barely manages to regain his hold before it goes tumbling to the ground.

Vex is seeing someone?

Shit. He’d never actually liked her romantically, but they’re both flirtatious by nature. Even if it’s all jokes, he wouldn’t have gone that far if he’d known she’d been in a relationship.

And Percy certainly hadn’t seemed happy about it.

Fuck. The very last thing Jarett wants is to come between a relationship. That involves far too much drama.

“Come on, there’s a nice spot over here…” Vex says, leading Percy off without even a goodbye. Jarett watches them leave with a deep frown and a budding headache.

Perhaps he’ll have to talk with Percy, later, establish what the boundaries are.

For now, he goes back to his shooting and tries to ignore the clamor of laughter shared by the two of them.

*LINEBREAK*

When Jarett knocks on Percival de Rolo’s dorm, two days later, the door is opened by a redhead who greets him with a polite confusion. “Hi… um, can I help you?”

Jarett stares at her, eyes narrowing. “Hello. Is Percival here?”

She takes a small step back, and it occurs to Jarett that his tone was perhaps a bit more hostile than he intended, but he does not like the implication of a pretty girl being in the dorm room of Vex’s boyfriend. “Uh, no, he’s at class. Is everything okay?”

“What class would that be?”

“Fundamentals of Thermodynamics. Are— what do you need him for?”

“Just some homework help. Thanks,” Jarett grumbles, not bothering to stick around long enough to see if she believes him.

He may not be in love with Vex, but he does care about her. She’s a good fucking person, and if this Percival is cheating on her, well, Jarett can’t just do nothing. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he stalks through the hallways, eyes searching the crowd for a distinct head of white hair.

He finds him walking out of class, and his stomach twists when he sees Vex by his side. Shit, he’d hoped to break the news to her in a more secluded place, far, far away from Percy.

Before he can back off, though, wait until they separate, Vex spots him. Her head cocks. “Jarett? What are you doing here?” she sounds suprised, but pleased.

Percy follows her gaze to find him, and smiles thinly.

Jarett lets out a low breath. “Can we talk, Vex?”

She frowns, leaving Percy’s side to approach him. “Is everything alright?”

And then Percy is approaching, as well, awkwardly hovering near Vex with that strained expression of jealousy. Jarett doesn’t hide his glare. “No. Listen, I don’t want to… make a scene, but—”

“Make a scene…? What are you talking about?”

“I— maybe we should do this somewhere else.”

Vex looks him over, eyebrows pushed together. “Alright. Percy, dear, I’ll just be a few minutes.”

Percy nods. “Of course. Shall I wait at your dorm?”

And Jarett knows, as he says it, that it’s a mistake, but he’s just so fucking angry at this prat’s nice-guy act that he can’t help but spit, “Oh, fuck you.”

Both Vex and Percy startle. “I beg your pardon?”

Jarett steps closer, eyes burning. “Don’t play dumb. I saw that girl in your apartment. How long have you been cheating on her?”

Silence. The people around them are openly staring, but he doesn’t care. Vex deserves so much fucking better.

“I… you mean to imply I’m cheating on… Keyleth?”

What.

“No— you’re cheating with her. On Vex.” His aggressive tone is suddenly undercut by confusion. What is he attempting?

And then, Vex giggles. It’s so out of place that both Percy and Jarett whip around to face her. She’s rubbing circles into her temples, but the laughter is unmistakable. “That’s not what’s happening, I promise you.”

“Vex, I— I’m sorry, but—”

She cuts him off. “If Percy were going to cheat on me, it wouldn’t be Keyleth. She’s his roommate, and they’re like siblings, but this is all really a moot point given that we’re not together.”

“I wouldn’t cheat on you at all—” Percy begins, frowning deeply.

“Like I said. A moot point. Percy and I are friends, nothing more.”

Jarett looks at Vex. Then at Percy. Back at Vex, trying to determine if this is some joke or prank or form of denial. Then closes his eyes and lets out a long groan. “Goddamnit.”

When he opens his eyes again, Vex looks faintly amused. “People really should stop jumping to conclusions.”

Percy huffs out a laugh.

“Look, I— Shit, I’m sorry.” His cheeks are burning, and he praises whatever god exists that the blush isn’t visible on his dark skin.

“No, I’m— it’s good to know you’d care. If something like that was happening,” Percy mumbles.

Jarett sighs. “Yeah. Listen, I’m going to go and… go somewhere else. Far away from here. Too awkward. Sorry again.” He’s practically running away before they have a chance to respond.

In the background, he can hear them chuckle, sounding as awkward as he feels.

[jae-birde]

Perc'ahlia Week Day 7

Free/Random

My final entry for @percahliaweek!

Percy adjusted his grip on Bad News, his new firearm, which has so far proven to be rather useful, especially with the significant increase in range (that he was still tweaking). Eyebrows furrowed, he used the scope to scan the trees surrounding the raider camp for any movement. Their party (Percy refused to call them the SHITs, despite that being their official name. Simply referring to them as "the party" would do) had been hired to track down and deal with a band of raiders that had been terrorizing the nearby village. The party had successfully tracked them down to their camp.

Percy's gaze roamed the forest, just managing to pick out where Grog, Pike, and Scanlan were hiding and the foliage concealing Keyleth. He didn't expect to be able to find the twins, but not knowing where Vex'ahlia was positioned might prove to be a bit of an issue, considering the two of them were the team's snipers and long-ranged fighters, and coordinating their attacks was always helpful.

"Vex? Where are you hiding?" Percy asked quietly, holding the Earring of Whisper as he spoke.

There was a pause, and then Vex's voice sounded from the earring, a slight echo to her words due to the enchantment. "Well, that just means that I'm being extra stealthy today." Percy could practically hear the wink that she'd surely be giving him if they could see each other, and he felt a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

Huffing in amusement, Percy shifted his position on the rock he was perched on, refocusing his scope on the entrance of the largest tent in the camp. "Can you see me?" He asked, partially for practicality, partially out of curiosity.

"Only because I'm looking."

Read More

[rachel-of-autumnbow]

Day 3: SciFi/Robots

Trinket got destroyed in a battle and no one knows how to get Vex out of bed. No one but Percy.

Probably grammar mistakes. Perc'ahlia. Happy ending. Cute. Enjoy. Short drabble for @fanovember event!

Day 3: SciFi/Robots

Vex had barely moved from her bed in days, since Trinket got messed up by that giant metallic fist that almost got all of them killed and neither Vax or her friends knew what else to try. Scanlan offered looting some abandoned ship from the ship cemetery, Grog invited her to use his training room to burn the sadness away, Keyleth and Pike tried to take her to a meteor rain that would happen a few lightyears further. Her brother tried to talk her out of bed too, but nothing worked out. She needed Trinket with her. That bear robot had been with them since they were kids messing around with spaceship toys.

“Has anyone seen Percy lately?” asked Keyleth. “Maybe he can get her out of bed.”

“Nah, he locked himself in his workshop after we came back,” said Scanlan.

“He’s been there for days now. He will start smelling like Grog soon.”

“Thank you, Vax. Hey!”

Right before any fight could happen, the main chamber door slid open and Percy entered the room. All of the others stared at the bags under his eyes, his beard fuzz after days out of control and his messed hair. None of that astonished them as much as the big figure that came in after him, stomping his paws and growling low. No one said a word. Pike stopped Grog from approaching that new, functioning Trinket. Percy knocked on the bedroom door. “Vex? I made something for you.”

“Go away,” said Vex’s voice inside the room.

“I will not. I think you will like this.”

“If it isn’t Trinket you’d better leave me alone.”

“Very well, then.” Percy opened the door and let Trinket storm in the room and jump on Vex’s bed.

“I said… What? Trinket?” The bear growled, brushing his head against Vex. She hugged him back and scratched his metal ears. “Oh, silly robot, don’t you ever scare me like that again, you hear?” Trinket growled in agreement and Vex turned to Percy.

“I know it’s not exactly the same on the outside, I had to rebuild him almost from scratch, based on the few drawings I had. He was an old design, so I made some arrangements to improve movement and a few more minor things… I managed to take his memory intact, though, so technically he is your same old Trinket, just with a new…” Percy’s technical speech sunk in Vex’s hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. I don’t think I could ever repay you for this.”

“Well…” Percy pushed a bit away to look her in the eye. “You got out of bed, I think that’s more than enough, dear.”

[elle-thereafter]

Chapter 19 of Gate Building is up, and today marks a year since I posted the first five chapters. It is wild to me that I've been working on this for over a year. It is by far the longest thing I've ever written.

Now for the traditional snippet:

Percy recalls how heavily Perran leaned against the work table after recasting the true seeing spell on Vex a few hours ago. "Is it wise to keep up this pace of casting?" Percy asks carefully. "You have an archfey to distract this evening." At the insinuation of Nim and the role he needs to play tonight, the remaining mirth trickles away. "What's spent is spent," Perran broods, half to himself. "I'm reserving what I can." "That didn't look like reserve." Perran waves off the critique. "Cantrips and rituals are hro'ava li'pella, hardly taxing. Much like your teacups, their casting doesn't cost me anything but time." Percy frowns, rolling the Elvish around his mind. "'Beyond the body'?" "You're Elvish is good," Perran says, smiling. "The Sylvan grammar usually confuses those who learned Elvish as a second language." Percy ignores the compliment, thinking instead about watching Perran cast lightning burst after lightning burst through the hammer. And then he remembers his own nights spent inspecting illusions of teacups, dozens and dozens of times over. What is the difference? How does one kind of magic leave a man drained and empty, while another barely scratches the surface? Across the table Perran is eating bread and cheese, watching him a little too casually. Waiting. It's a purposefully placed breadcrumb, one set in front of Percy to test him, to see if he'll bite or turn away. You'll understand nothing as long as you cling to ignorance. It echoes in Percy's mind, the words stuck into him farther than he would ever admit to out loud. "Why is it different?" Percy asks finally. He tries not to notice how satisfied Perran looks at being asked the question. "What does it mean for a spell to be 'beyond the body'?"

[ask-ladyofrosefire]

and the sun will sing its song (and the moon will always mellow)

G. English. 2,142 words. Complete.

After Umbracyl’s defeat, Vex and Percy share some very bad drinks, some slightly bad music, and an entirely lovely dance.

Happy birthday, @notaficwriter!

Thank you, @mischiefseven for beta-reading.

The author thrives on comments! Come and join us on the writing discord, Haven! 💘 💘 💘

[katia-dreamer]

Vex takes a deep breath, aims, and then shoots.

Her arrow flies through the air, landing in the center of the target with a satisfying thump. Then she turns to look at Percival with a broad grin.

“That means it’s your turn,” she says, giving him a quick wink.

Percy takes his stance. She watches as his body goes utterly still as his total concentration turns toward his goal. It’s fascinating and very attractive.

A moment later, a bullet explodes through the center of a different target. Percy looks at her, and there's a smirk on his face. “That means it’s a tie.”

“Show off,” she complains half-heartedly.

“You know very well what I’m capable of, dear. Would you like to go another round? Or should we employ ourselves elsewhere?” His gaze drops to her lips.

Vex wants to kiss him. She wants to drag him behind the nearest tree, press him against it, and make him say her name. But that will have to wait.

“One more round,” she says. “And this time, I expect to win. I hope you are ready to pay up, Percival.”

Percy brushes a loose hair behind her ear, determination burning in his eyes. “We’ll see. Now shoot.”

She does.

[burr-ell]

to bear a heart

Trinket was, despite himself, incredibly confused.

Bears, he would have you know, are actually very intelligent creatures, the sort you could easily go on adventures with, Scanlan. He always understood what the People in his family said and what they were doing, sometimes probably better than they did. Maybe he couldn’t fix a complicated weapon or make his own armor, but he was still quite clever—smarter, even, than the average bear, traveling with people who were (in his expert opinion) smarter than the average party.

His Vex was unquestionably the smartest out of all of them—not just because she was his Vex, but because she clearly kept them all together. She was so supportive of everyone and made all their plans to get them out of trouble, and she was so brave! It was a heavy burden to carry, but she did it well—like a mama bear with her cubs, almost on instinct. Trinket was very grateful to have her, and especially grateful that she knew she could confide in him when she felt overwhelmed. His only worry was that he’d seemed to be the only one she talked to like that, because even Vax didn’t seem to understand all the things Vex worried about (and it was a lot.)

But now she’d found somebody else, and Trinket was so glad for her. Maybe Percy was an odd choice in confidant, at first, but it made sense the more Trinket thought about it. He used to be more aloof, and Trinket hadn’t known what to make of him at first—but Percy had a kind, reliable heart beneath all the sternness, and he was always duly respectful. (One time Scanlan accidentally lost his pants again, and Percy had immediately covered Trinket’s eyes. It wasn’t like Trinket needed protection from such things, but there was only so much of Scanlan he ever wanted to see, and Percy was very considerate to think of it.)

And ever since Trinket’s family got back from Whitestone, there had been something different about Percy, and Vex really liked talking to him now. Trinket had seen them chatting over meals and walking together in the hallways, sometimes about silly things and sometimes with quieter, sadder voices with hands on shoulders or holding each other's arms. It was always so soft and admiring and affectionate, and Trinket was always so happy to hear it because Vex deserved to have everybody talk to her like that.

But the air between them had gotten more and more nervous, like they were building up to something, and it felt like the worried twist in his gut and the tension in his muscles right before a battle. They both seemed almost like they wanted to say something really important but were stopping themselves. Which was why he was incredibly confused.

Didn't they want to be mates?

read more on ao3

[littlebosslady7]

1. - good morning kiss prompt for perc'ahlia pls.

Kiss Prompts

Sunlight streamed in through the balcony door. Vibrant orange hues painted the sky in the first morning's warm. Lavender curtains billowed in the the gentle breeze. The ever so subtle chill caused Vex to twist in the bedsheets. She just needed a few more mores. Her ears twitched to the familiar creak of her husband doing his daily push ups in the corner of their bed chambers.

Blinking and rubbing crusts of sleep from her eyes, Vex noted, "Oh, we have a guest, do we?"

"Thirty-nine." Percy counted, dropping low mid-push up to kiss their daughter upon each "Forty"

He peppered her pudgy cheeks with kisses and blew raspberries on her belly. That earned Percy and Vex, one of their favorite songs, the sound of Gwendolyn's laughter.

"Dadda! Dadda!" She giggled, blowing wet raspberry all over his glasses. She gently tapped his stubbled cheek with her tail as light as the raven feathers Mummy wore in her hair, "Mo' Mo'"

"Forty-one." Percy obliged, kissing her again, "Forty-two."

Vex slipped into her lavender robe, and her slippers slapped against the carpeted floor.

Vex mentioned, hand on her hip in feigned offense, "42 kisses, eh? That's more than Mama gets in entire month."

"Uh-oh." Baby Gwen shrugged, lips forming a little 'o'.

Vex walked over and picked up Gwen off her soft bear printed play rug.

She tapped her daughter's nose gently, and smooched it, "Yeah, you're lucky you're cute, sweetling."

"Just like her mama."

Vex tsked, "Five children, and you'd honestly think I'd melt at that line."

"Yes, dear."

"Nope." His wife faked a pout, lips just wanting to be kissed.

He remedied that and kissed her right on the lips.

"Sorry about that. Good morning, dearheart."

She smiled, "Good morning, darling."

Percy attempted to follow it up with yet another soft peck, but young Miss Gwendolyn de Rolo saw it as a fine opportunity to grab her daddy's glasses.

[everythingisconfetti]

interruption

(also on ao3 here)

It had stopped raining that morning, for the first time in days. Percy watches water droplets slide down leaves, freezing in stasis for a moment before falling to the ground. It’s the little things that still catch him off-guard amidst this still overwhelming peace. He’d been so afraid of it, when everything stopped. Scared to stop running— toward danger, away from danger— scared that quiet would open doors that the running had kept shut. Momentum, or something of the sort.

And it did, it does. Usually at night; worse when the children were small, worse in winter. Still now, with a dreary sort of regularity, he will jerk awake in the early hours of the morning to visions of Whitestone, edged in green, flooded with the dead, the undead. Still now, he will reach for Vex, searching for comfort, to find ash crumbling beneath his hands, the shadow of Orthax on the walls. Still now, he will scream himself hoarse as Vex shakes him awake, flinching from her even as he’s pressing himself to her.

Vex has them too, the nightmares. These days, she’s more likely to wake up crying than screaming. They’ve learned to manage. Learned to hold the darkness between them, to quiet and quash it until it’s small enough to put down for another day. 

It’s worth it, is the thing. Letting the quiet in. Percy goes for long walks around the city, takes in the ivy that clambers up the walls. The gardeners had wanted to cut it back, but he’d told them to leave it. It’s life, embracing every inch of his city. Keyleth had spent so long coaxing the plants to grow again, he hates the thought of anything restraining them. He has watched the city grow in much the same way; slowly, cautiously, then all at once until the streets are filled with people once more. It reminds him of his childhood, those few years before the Briarwoods arrived. There’s a joy, heavy with memory and still-sharp pain, that this is the only Whitestone his children have known.

So— peace, then. Their home has been quiet, the last few years, the children grown past little feet running up stairs, past toys discarded from wall to wall of every room. All but Gwen now grown into their own homes, their own families. He goes into their old rooms far too often. Sits on the edges of the beds where the covers have stayed tucked in for far too long. They grow up too fast, he’d been told. It hadn’t felt fast, at the time. But now, the memories run into each other, the years stacking and compressing. He sees the feeling mirrored in Vex when he catches her wistful look toward the bookshelf in the living room. Knows how tight they’re both holding on to Gwen, how hard it is not to tie her down and beg her to stay little for just a while longer. 

He still startles at noise. Vex still likes to be able to see the entirety of any room. But her bow hangs, unstrung, on the wall of his workshop, used only for her outings with the Grey Hunt, and Percy hasn’t touched a gun in decades. His position as Architect has turned half his workshop into stacks of sketch-filled parchment plans, the city still growing and reforming under his careful guidance. He thinks of Kiki, and he thinks of her gardens, the way they bloom under her sculpting. He thinks of Kerr, who told Keyleth that a city was like a garden far before any of them were able to understand it. He thinks they aren’t so different after all, when it comes down to it. 

He’s… happy, though even after thirty years, his mind flinches from the word, seeks to look behind it, sure something must be lurking there. They’re happy. As happy as anyone could hope to be, he thinks— it’s certainly far more than he ever imagined for himself.

And the sky is clear, fading to dusk, and he can see smoke rising from the chimney as he approaches the house once more. The lights are on inside, and he can see Vex by the stove-top, hips swaying slightly, lips curved up in a smile. He can see Gwen, lying on her stomach by the hearth, book beneath her arm, the spade of her tail keeping her place on the page. And if he has to wipe his eyes on his sleeve before he reaches for the door? Well, no one needs be the wiser.

His hand is on the door knob when there’s a bright crack of magic behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

He turns, slowly, hand shaking at his hip where his holster used to sit.

The sun tree cleaves open down the centre, and he sees Keyleth step out, and his shoulders relax momentarily. Then he sees the body in her arms. The look of barely-disguised panic on her face. The… six other figures that follow her through— a motley group that instantly takes him back to Vox Machina’s early days. He sighs, tempering sudden fear with exasperation. 

He meets Keyleth’s eyes briefly. Yanks the door open. Steps inside, slams it shut, and calls out, “Vex? I don’t mean to alarm you, darling, but I think we might have a situation.”