#trinketthebear

Cabin Fever (Critical Role Campaign 1 Ficlet)

 They just couldn’t catch a break, could they?

Vex’ahlia and her brother had only been traveling on their own for a little over a year, and had already arrived at the conclusion that it wasn’t just their father (and all the other elves of Syngorn) that hated them—the universe itself did, too.

Every time things started to go in their favor, they stopped; sometimes dramatically—the loss of their mother, her capture by poachers, and whatever had happened to Vax before he’d joined the Clasp (that he still wouldn’t talk about but she knew him well enough to know was bad)—and sometimes, like now, merely annoying.

It’d been hard enough convincing various town guards, innkeepers, and tavern owners that Trinket was harmless when he was a tiny baby, but now that the cub was truly beginning to grow, it was beginning to verge on near-impossible…and he wasn’t even a juvenile yet!

Surely a quarantine order was over-reacting?

(As soon as Vax finished whatever Clasp business had dragged them to this back-woods swamp hole masquerading as a town, they were leaving and never coming back!)

It also didn’t make sense, to her: even if someone thought that her sweet baby Trinket was a dangerous wild animal, what on earth made them think that confining him (and thereby, her) to an inn room for the duration of their stay would make the situation any less dangerous?

(In reality, the only ones in any sort of danger were the ranger and her companion—of dying of boredom.)

With no sign of Vax returning any time soon and hours to go before sun-down (when she could easily sneak the two of them out for a little fun—just to spite those idiotic excuses for town guards), Vex was scrambling for a way to entertain a growing bear cub—and herself.

“Trinket, darling, Mommy has some things to teach you!”

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

Years later, when Trinket was grown and adventuring alongside Vox Machina, he often demonstrated various tricks and maneuvers Vex had worked out with him long before. Some made sense for a ranger’s animal companion: coordinated attacks, tracking, flanking, even grappling and pinning. Still others made sense by virtue of how much of his life had been spent around humanoids: shake, sit, lay down, roll over, etc.

And then there were some…

“Vex?”

“Yes, Scanlan?”

“What on earth possessed you to teach that dumb bear to somersault?”

“…What? You’ve never been bored?”

FAVORITE SPELL: (VEX’AHLIA’S) SPEAK WITH ANIMALS

 (AN: As I don’t have a favorite of my own, I just went with what I assumed a character’s fav would be—even if it’s not the one we see them cast most often.)

 Vex’s hands were running through his fur, finding all his favorite spots, petting and scratching with her usual gentleness. And, as usually happened, he began to speak to him. “Trinket, darling, you know I love you, right?”

She wouldn’t understand his words, but he’d respond anyway: he knew she understood what he meant. “Of course I do.”

Abruptly, the petting stopped as Vex covered her mouth with a little gasp. Trinket look to her, instantly alert. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing—nothing’s wrong,” she choked out, grabbing the sides of his face and pressing their foreheads together. “Absolutely nothing.”

But she was crying, and he pointed out as much—he could feel it in his fur.

“I can hear you,” she sobbed out at last, even as he licked at her tears. “I can understand you.”

Oh. That made sense, he supposed. He would be overwhelmed, too, if he could suddenly understand Vex after an entire lifetime of only being able to work out her meaning based on tone. What should he say to her next? Well, there was really only one thing to say, even if it was something that they both already knew:

“I love you, too, Vex.”

…

“We’re in for a big fight tomorrow, buddy. Thordak.”

“I know, Vex. And I won’t let him hurt you—I will fight him for you!”

She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight, even though her arms didn’t quite go all the way around. It was still strange to him, sometimes, how much bigger than her he’d grown, given how little he’d felt when they first met.

“Not for—together, buddy. But I don’t like seeing you hurt. You could stay—”

“No.” it wasn’t that he hated the necklace, per se—he just hated the thought of her walking into danger without him. “I can fight. I will fight.”

“I love you, buddy.”

“I love you, too, Vex.”

After a bit, she went to clean up, undress, and do the other dozen silly things humanoids did before sleeping, and she seemed to be feeling better. In fact, by the time the knock at the door came, you couldn’t tell she’d been crying into his fur mere moments ago.

“Percy? Are you here for our ‘later’ talk?”

[The hope is to write a ficlet a week, excluding CRInktober/Holiday Gift fics, for the whole year. The aim is to post by Saturdays, and I have no idea how long I’ll be able to keep this up, but gosh darn it I’m going to try!]

 His world had been so small, once.

As a child, it had fit into a one-room hovel—and when he and Vex’ahlia had been taken away, it shrank rather than expanded. It did not grow again (save for one once-tiny, furry addition that his sister would never part with) for many years thereafter: he had Vex’ahlia, the other half of the whole they’d always been, and he had Trinket, who he’d initially accepted for Vex’s sake alone, but had quickly come to care for. Vax’ildan didn’t need anyone else; it was easier to protect a smaller world, after all.

Even after—well after—they’d met the others, recovered Grog, found Pike and Percy, become the S.H.I.T.s, his world did not grow—Vax allied himself with these people, worked with these people, even regarded these people fondly (usually), but they were not his, not a part of him. He could walk away, if he had to (or so he told himself).

Then Pike died in the claws of a demon, and it felt as though something had been torn from his care, leaving a bloody, gaping wound. They managed to bring her back, but not to banish the questions he was beginning to ask of himself. Vox Machina, as they were now called, were gifted a keep—a home, or, at least, a potential one—and the questions, the thoughts, only deepened.

Still, distractions enough followed with the quests beneath Kraghammer and around Vasselheim—as much as the party’s bonds were unquestioningly deepening, there was neither time nor need to examine the implications of that fact—yet.

Then came word of the Briarwoods, the painful truth of Percival’s past, and, quite without realizing it, Vax followed the human to the horrors of Whitestone simply because he asked. (It’s what you do for your own, after all.) And though new doubts, fed by shadows and demons, did battle with some of his growing convictions, others he at last accepted—including his feelings for a certain druid.

Could he walk away now, if Vex would follow? What were these people to him? Everything that had once been neatly defined was now blurring, and Vax wondered if he’d unknowingly trapped himself, bound himself—and was that even necessarily a bad thing?

Clarity came through dragon-fire and a purpose re-forged, then was lost again in a deal in a sunken tomb—and, oh, how he would so desperately scramble for it as days became weeks, became months, as they crossed the world gathering allies, weapons, growing stronger as themselves, as a group. Before Glintshore, Vax already knew: his world had grown enough, at least, to fit all of them within it, and it fell to him to keep them safe. Thordak had taken half his world from him before, but not. This time.

…

…No. No, this time, one of his own walked away under their own power, of their own will, and left a aching hollow he’d grapple with for a long, long time to come.