Cutting Words - Critical Role fanfiction
Feb. 25th, 2018 09:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elen_nareTitle: Cutting Words
Fandom: Critical Role
Rating: G
Length: 913 words
Content notes: set during episode 60 of campaign one, Heredity and Hats.
Summary: Vex has been called many names in Syngorn. "Lady Vex'ahlia" is the first one that doesn't hurt.
“You know, if you hadn’t brought up the bastard part, we might have actually got a threshold crest,” Vex says, seemingly out of nowhere, after they’ve been walking through the Ever-Shifting Grasses for the better part of an hour.
Or maybe not entirely out of nowhere, Percy reflects; the laughter of their departure from Syngorn has faded as they leave the elven city further and further behind, and pushing through the tall grass has long since lost its charm. Much as Percy’s dreamed of the Feywild all his life, he wouldn’t say no to some magical assistance to shorten their journey at this point.
“What, you think it wasn’t in her mind already?” Vax scoffs. “That’s the first word those people always think of, we’ve always been ‘Syldor Vessar’s bastards’ to them.”
“Wait, really? Aren’t you - there’s not a word for it in common, it’s not legitimized exactly, but they called you the Vessar twins when we arrived, so - ” at that point, Percy’s brain seems to catch up with his mouth, and he stops short, realising the others are all staring at him in bafflement. “I read about elven inheritance laws once,” he explains.
“Why?” The question comes from both the twins in unison.
Because I thought the elves were the most fascinating people in the world and I wanted to know everything about them, why do you think I speak elvish?, he thinks but doesn’t say. Right here and now, he can’t imagine it would go down well. “Oh, I was probably trying to disinherit my brother or something, I don’t know,” he says, brushing the question away. It’s not entirely a lie, he did try to find obscure or outlandish laws to bring down on his siblings’ heads at more than one point in his childhood, with very little success for the most part.
“They called you that to your faces?” Keyleth asks now, diverting their attention from Percy. Bless you, Keyleth.
“Most of adults at least tried not to let us hear,” Vax says with a shrug, “but they always underestimated how good our ears were.”
“Or our eyes,” Vex interjects with a scornful laugh, and Percy frowns for a moment before it hits him. Pelor damn it, Vex can read lips… He’s never really considered before how much of a mixed blessing that would be.
“And at school, well… you know how cruel kids can be,” Vax continues. “We were the new kids, the outsiders, the weird ones… Bastards was one of the nicer things we were called. Base-born, half breeds…”
“Don’t,” Vex says, with a grimace. There’s something in that fleeting expression that reminds Percy powerfully of their conversation the previous evening, which he now understands better than ever. It vanishes quickly, though, as she gives a determined smile and goes on, “You’re upsetting Keyleth, brother. Anyway, that’s years ago now, so who cares what some dumb kids used to call us?”
“Yeah, you’re right, who cares?” Vax replies, matching her nonchalant tone, then moves quickly away to their guide, to ask how much further they have to go and continue to tease him about the theater. Keyleth, looking worriedly from one twin to the other, follows him, and Percy and Vex walk on in silence.
Who cares… well, they do, of course. Percy knows how much words can hurt, slicing past all armour and weapons to wound your very soul. Well-chosen words can stab deeper than any blade, and these that the twins remember so clearly and bitterly will have cut them to the core, a thousand times over. Anyone who’s travelled with Scanlan has to acknowledge the power of words, to hurt and to heal… Well, there’s an idea, he thinks, taking a sideways look at Vex and noticing how forced her smile still is.
“I don’t suppose we happened to meet any of your old classmates while we were in Syngorn, did we? So we could inform them of the proper way to address you?”
Vex’s confused look at his first question gives way to glee at his second. “No, we didn’t! That would have been so great, I almost want to go back and find some of them now… Oh well, next time, I think those poor guards might have heart attacks if we went back now.”
Percy laughs and agrees, remembering the guards’ expressions of unmitigated relief as they left. He can’t really blame them, either, after the scene they put on at their rooms, the memory of which still makes him giggle. Polymorph of all things… He half feels like someone should explain to Keyleth, but he certainly doesn’t feel up to the task, nor is he eager to suggest it to anyone else.
“Percy?” Vex’s hand on his arm snaps him back to the present. “Thank you, again, for my title. It… it means a lot.”
“It was an honour and a privilege, Lady Vex’ahlia,” he says with a bow, imbuing his words with all the courtly manners drilled into him years ago, and meeting her eyes with a look he hopes conveys the deep sincerity behind them.
It seems to, as Vex smiles back at him, all the old pain gone from her expression at least for the time being. Percy knows it’s not an instant solution, that this handful of words he’s given her won’t always be enough against so many stored in her memory; but it’s helped, and for now at least that’s enough.
Fandom: Critical Role
Rating: G
Length: 913 words
Content notes: set during episode 60 of campaign one, Heredity and Hats.
Summary: Vex has been called many names in Syngorn. "Lady Vex'ahlia" is the first one that doesn't hurt.
“You know, if you hadn’t brought up the bastard part, we might have actually got a threshold crest,” Vex says, seemingly out of nowhere, after they’ve been walking through the Ever-Shifting Grasses for the better part of an hour.
Or maybe not entirely out of nowhere, Percy reflects; the laughter of their departure from Syngorn has faded as they leave the elven city further and further behind, and pushing through the tall grass has long since lost its charm. Much as Percy’s dreamed of the Feywild all his life, he wouldn’t say no to some magical assistance to shorten their journey at this point.
“What, you think it wasn’t in her mind already?” Vax scoffs. “That’s the first word those people always think of, we’ve always been ‘Syldor Vessar’s bastards’ to them.”
“Wait, really? Aren’t you - there’s not a word for it in common, it’s not legitimized exactly, but they called you the Vessar twins when we arrived, so - ” at that point, Percy’s brain seems to catch up with his mouth, and he stops short, realising the others are all staring at him in bafflement. “I read about elven inheritance laws once,” he explains.
“Why?” The question comes from both the twins in unison.
Because I thought the elves were the most fascinating people in the world and I wanted to know everything about them, why do you think I speak elvish?, he thinks but doesn’t say. Right here and now, he can’t imagine it would go down well. “Oh, I was probably trying to disinherit my brother or something, I don’t know,” he says, brushing the question away. It’s not entirely a lie, he did try to find obscure or outlandish laws to bring down on his siblings’ heads at more than one point in his childhood, with very little success for the most part.
“They called you that to your faces?” Keyleth asks now, diverting their attention from Percy. Bless you, Keyleth.
“Most of adults at least tried not to let us hear,” Vax says with a shrug, “but they always underestimated how good our ears were.”
“Or our eyes,” Vex interjects with a scornful laugh, and Percy frowns for a moment before it hits him. Pelor damn it, Vex can read lips… He’s never really considered before how much of a mixed blessing that would be.
“And at school, well… you know how cruel kids can be,” Vax continues. “We were the new kids, the outsiders, the weird ones… Bastards was one of the nicer things we were called. Base-born, half breeds…”
“Don’t,” Vex says, with a grimace. There’s something in that fleeting expression that reminds Percy powerfully of their conversation the previous evening, which he now understands better than ever. It vanishes quickly, though, as she gives a determined smile and goes on, “You’re upsetting Keyleth, brother. Anyway, that’s years ago now, so who cares what some dumb kids used to call us?”
“Yeah, you’re right, who cares?” Vax replies, matching her nonchalant tone, then moves quickly away to their guide, to ask how much further they have to go and continue to tease him about the theater. Keyleth, looking worriedly from one twin to the other, follows him, and Percy and Vex walk on in silence.
Who cares… well, they do, of course. Percy knows how much words can hurt, slicing past all armour and weapons to wound your very soul. Well-chosen words can stab deeper than any blade, and these that the twins remember so clearly and bitterly will have cut them to the core, a thousand times over. Anyone who’s travelled with Scanlan has to acknowledge the power of words, to hurt and to heal… Well, there’s an idea, he thinks, taking a sideways look at Vex and noticing how forced her smile still is.
“I don’t suppose we happened to meet any of your old classmates while we were in Syngorn, did we? So we could inform them of the proper way to address you?”
Vex’s confused look at his first question gives way to glee at his second. “No, we didn’t! That would have been so great, I almost want to go back and find some of them now… Oh well, next time, I think those poor guards might have heart attacks if we went back now.”
Percy laughs and agrees, remembering the guards’ expressions of unmitigated relief as they left. He can’t really blame them, either, after the scene they put on at their rooms, the memory of which still makes him giggle. Polymorph of all things… He half feels like someone should explain to Keyleth, but he certainly doesn’t feel up to the task, nor is he eager to suggest it to anyone else.
“Percy?” Vex’s hand on his arm snaps him back to the present. “Thank you, again, for my title. It… it means a lot.”
“It was an honour and a privilege, Lady Vex’ahlia,” he says with a bow, imbuing his words with all the courtly manners drilled into him years ago, and meeting her eyes with a look he hopes conveys the deep sincerity behind them.
It seems to, as Vex smiles back at him, all the old pain gone from her expression at least for the time being. Percy knows it’s not an instant solution, that this handful of words he’s given her won’t always be enough against so many stored in her memory; but it’s helped, and for now at least that’s enough.
