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@enspelled
— [ ... ] I WANT TO BREAK IT INTO PIECES SMALL ENOUGH TO UNDERSTAND ; independent, private and selective multi ft. essek thelyss + occtis tachonis from critical role and briar of candlekeep, an original dnd / fantasy character. penned by hamlet ( thirty3, she / her )
CARRD / MEMES
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AZUNE NODS GENTLY, keeping a hold of occtis' hand. he never thought of himself of someone good at offering comfort. that never was part of his duty but occtis seems to be reacting well to his attempts. so perhaps he's getting better at, at the very least, applying the things that have comfort him.
“ all right. it might be overwhelming at first, ” he warns but thinks to add, “ i'll try to lessen it. ” much like his guidance, occtis will see a sequence of his memories. his targets usually receive an overwhelming amount of them until they pass out. but as he promised he tries to slowly ease occtis to it, and focuses for occtis to only receive pleasant ones.
pin notes how cozy the two look and doesn't want to be excluded. he pads his way over, squirreling underneath azune's extended arm. he makes a quiet purring sound, his fluffy tail giving the occasional twitch. how wonderful it is to be snuggled between two friends.
occtis blinks slowly, a hazy look in his undead eyes. he remembers hiding from the twins under his bed and ethrand bringing him a bowl of sliced apples. he remembers thimble visiting and complimenting his scribbled spell design. he remembers the first time he'd conjured pin, and the fox had burrowed into his arms like it was all he wanted in life.
this state reminds him of some nights at the penteveral, coasting between waking and dreaming. he imagines snuggling up against someone's chest and shuts his eyes.
//in my head, occtis' magic has two colors because the purple is from him subconsciously trying to be like his family, and when he lets them go, his magic will all be green.
PUT THE STONE WHERE IT BELONGS.
//occtis wanting so desperately to comfort azune, but not knowing the right words. peak neurodivergent experience.
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@enspelled has written: “ your bandages— you’re bleeding through them. ” from briar, for your seven kingdoms/medieval friendly verse? maybe pre-briar running away, him and his dad came to watch the competition?
There is a firm grip placed on the man's outreaching forearm, and the knight cannot help but feel immediately apologetic as he does. He does not know better, truly. How can one possibly assume one would not want assistance with a difficult wound?
Aye, that's that it is. Difficult, and annoying. His opponent's lance had graced him at such an angle where his mail had been looser than the rest. Perhaps it had been a rookie mistake, not checking himself over for weaker points despite assuring himself that the double chain would hold up. Such was his hubris...
"Apologies, my...lord..?" He stumbles over his honorifics, loosening his grip on the man's arm as he gives him a once-over. Surely he was not a another knight here to compete, or why would he have tucked himself into an opponent's tent? He dressed far too fine for a septon and lacked their holy chain besides, and he had not spotted him amongst the common rank...still, he wore no sigil or coat of arms about him...all Behni could assume was that he placed above him. "I appreciate the concern, but it looks worse than it is, I can assure you...just goes to show what rushed work can do." It did sting quite a bit though, and while he'd mended the worst of it, he couldn't count himself through the ringer yet until it coagulated.
"...But what brings you all the way to me? Couldn't be because my wounds were so poorly patched that you sniffed me out like some noble bloodhound, was it?"
no sigil indeed, but there are subtle signs for those who know what to look for. deep green clothing, with little leaves in gold stitching. still, his family's lands are so small that he's never surprised to be unrecognized.
officially, they're here to be entertained, but his father is only interested in making connections with the other nobles gathered. tristan was supposed to help, but he could feel his father glaring holes into the back of his head at his first stutter. initially, he'd only aimed to put some space between them, but in his efforts to avoid being in one person's way or another, he'd ended up here.
“ i, ah . . . g- got myself lost rather quickly, i'm afraid, ” he says, with an awkward smile. his expression shifts to concern. “ i really . . . if y- you want to follow me, i know some p- people who can help you. ” he has some supplies with him for emergencies, but he'd really rather get the knight to the trained healers in their tent.
thelyss
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@harvestshope,
the portal looks like a cross between a mirror and a rippling pond. it glows with a faint, silvery light. despite its beauty, the surrounding plants have grown black and withered, and it has a tendency to spit out a hostile monster every few days. as one might imagine, this has been quite frightening for the village neighboring the forest. beauregard has requested he study it, inviting atticora for backup should a monster appear.
essek's in his usual disguise when working with the soul- a short, scruffy looking human with blonde hair and spectacles. he explains everything he's doing as he does it, testing the plants and the portal. he's just about to say he thinks the latter is fey in nature when a pair of horns emerge from it. make that two.
a large, two headed bull comes charging at them. the beast is quick for his size, giving off bursts of red mist whenever he gets particularly angry. essek does his best to herd the animal back into the portal, not wanting to kill him unless he has to. as luck would have it, the bull soon embeds his horns in a tree. now essek can lull him so sleep, and- no. the mist rises hotter than ever, and the tree cracks at the base with a noise that could rattle stone.
quicker than he'd think possible, the tree teeters towards atticora. he has less than a second to make his decision. a blast might crack the bark in two, but it's a risk. the only sure way to save atticora is with a magic that comes as natural as breathing. swirls of purple starlight flood essek's hands, arresting the tree in place.
startled by his own wreckage, the bull leaps through the portal. with a massive wrench of power, essek tips the tree in front of it, blocking his return.
essek pants, shakily lowering himself to the ground. he tries to look as though nothing untoward has just occurred. “ well, ” he says, in seth's perky voice, “ that was an adventure. are you alright? ”
Proelio-Procusi
forged in battle
Pri. Semi Sel.
Multimuse ft Caleb Widoghast from Critical Role and other muses from Critical Role, Dragon Age, BG3 & DnD and more to be found there 10+ years of experience
promo created by the lovely @thelyss
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⚠️WIP!!⚠️
Occtis Tachonis from Critical Role campaign 4!! So far I love the new campaign, each table has such a fun different vibe. I’m excited to see how they’ll move characters around (assuming they do). But first! the Schemers!
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HIS EYES FLUTTER SHUT when he feels occtis fingers move through his hair. “ not since i joined the marshals, ” he explains. it's practical, keeps his hair out of his face while fighting. he used to wear it down more when he was a guest at hal's home. “ sometimes i let it down after my shift. ” whenever he didn't want to draw too much attention to his birthmark, or just headed out for a drink.
“ my... mamá liked to braid our hair like this when were little and it became a habit. ” he's not used to talking about his family. mayali's name still will not leave his lips but he can't keep the plural out of his thoughts when talking about then. but something about the intimacy of the moment brings it out.
when he hears pin's whine, he taps lightly at the wooden floor next to him, trying to get his attention. the least he can do is keep pin occupied while occtis helps him. “ when we were at camp thimble, ” he begins knowing occtis has a good relationship with her, “ would spend her time making a couple smaller braids with my hair. ”
he feels a pang in his empty chest when azune mentions his mamá. it's longing for a barely remembered presence, but also empathy. the sorcerer's surrounded by friends but still feels so lonely.
pin turns his head immediately at the tap. he springs up, shifting his weight to his hind legs in a play stance before gently pouncing on azune's hand. got you!
occtis gives a small smile, nodding. “ faeries can have really intricate styles. like . . . big braids, tiny ones. nests, sometimes, for birds. ” they're always a comforting thought. the fey have been a reprieve from his upbringing for years now. occtis retrieves the wooden brush and carefully begins to work through azune's ends.
pin flips onto his back, happily presenting his belly for pets. “ sh . . . she says humans feel more familiar to her now, but . . . sometimes i think she really misses when the doors were open, ” he says. a distant memory of hands through his hair. azune's mamá. thimble recreating fey styles. no wonder hair feels personal. they all carry their home in it.
- you were not born with venom in your veins -
please dont repost or edit!
“Happens to us all.” Mal dismissed with an easy smile, more pleased than he cared to admit to have earned even that soft, breathy laugh from his rather unexpected saviour, giving Occtis a playful little nudge with his elbow once he had neatly tied off the bandage. It was heartening to see him relaxing, gently plied by his kindness and good humour it seemed, but the realisation that perhaps the wizard perhaps wasn’t accustomed to such things also provoked a pang of sympathy deep within him. “You should see me first thing in the morning on a market day, why I decided on a career where you have to be up with the sun I have no idea.” Spluttering out a laugh as he turned his head and was promptly met with a broad swipe of a lime green tongue across his cheek, Mal’s grin broadened. “Oh! — thanks, Pin.”
Taking a moment to properly admire the care with which Occtis had stitched and bandaged him up, then gently tugging down his ruched-up sleeve until it was just barely visible through the soft, diaphanous fabric, Mal lifted his shoulders in an easygoing shrug. “Are you busy?” He countered, gently nudging Pin down off his lap and then rising to his feet, chucking softly as the little patchwork fox slunk around his ankles. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from anything. Though I think I may just call it an extended lunch break, after all that.”
pin panted happily as he rubbed at mal's ankles. he looked from him to occtis and back. can we keep him? the little fox fell in love with everyone. well, everyone that was kind to his wizard, that is.
“ no, nothing, ” he said, “ it's our day off. ” he had plans to get more components, but he could do that later. occtis' brow furrowed. “ i should probably get food too, ” he said. on cue, his stomach rumbled. as much as he loved food, he often forgot it in the heat of his studies.
pin kept going up on his hind legs, pawing at mal's pants. “ uh- ” occtis scooped him up. “ is- is it alright if i put him on your shoulders? ” he asked. pin obviously wanted contact, but he didn't know if it'd be a good idea for the florist to hold him with a stitched-up arm.
This = perfection =’]
when do you gaze at your soulmate?
essek : when he's getting ready for the day,
this is all you've ever wanted. you and him and the promise of a future. you should be getting ready too. but you lay in bed for a moment, still feeling the traces of his warmth on the sheets, his scent on your skin. you watch as he chooses his outfit for the day. you savor how routine it is. you savor it because you both earned it. there is something precious in the domesticity and you vow to never take it for granted.
tagging : @proelio-procusi, @4zune, @harvestshope, @troublemqkers, @artifexx and you!
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no thoughts just him
@harvestshope,
essek's an enabler. some of the nein think so. he worries caleb does too. why else had the drow agreed to this? just the two of them, exploring the dangers of aeor without aid? is he that desperate for knowledge?
he'd thought caleb would be safer with him, but he also doubts himself. perhaps his thirst for discovery is clouding his judgement. if not for it, would he have refused; dug his heels in and insisted they bring more people?
what else might he agree to?
essek wouldn't endanger this entire timeline for the chance of fixing his own sins, wouldn't risk caleb's life. but what if caleb goes without him? if essek accompanies him, he might be able to protect him; take the brunt of the time travel's corrosive effects. light, what is he doing?
they're settled in the dome, taking a break between rooms. essek's sitting criss-cross applesauce in the air. he withdraws something covered in wax paper from his pack and carefully unwraps it. it's a pastry with cream and dark purple berries. he carefully splits it, offering the human the other half.
“ it is . . . one of the dynasty's specialties, ” essek says, trying to sell it, “ the berries only grow with us, in darkness. ”
