fic title: in the name of being brave
critical role (vox machina)
they fight a god and think that’s it. well, maybe not it, but what’s bigger than fighting a god. turns out, nothing, but that doesn’t stop all the murders and thieves and general ne’er-do-wells from doing the things that they do. so, they’ve won, but it’s almost like they’ve lost, but they keep going. turns out, that’s not it. Â
there’s a hole in their party, like a limb having been lopped off, but they keep moving, and the name vox machina is whispered reverently or uttered under breaths or shouted from the rooftops and they keep moving. Â
they topple corrupt governments and battle encroaching orcs and return to the Underdark on a favor for one of the many rulers they’ve come to know. it’s easy and exhausting and all consuming until finally, finally, one of them says they’re done. Â
in the future, they’ll argue over who says it first, who first suggests hanging up their adventuring cap, but nevertheless, they do. they’ve inspired generations of adventurers to carry on their good deeds and the name vox machina is written into legends. Â
someone asks them, decades after, why they did it, why they kept going after all the loss. the person calls them strong and unafraid and brave, tells them they’ve been the source of inspiration to a slew of adventurers. none of them say anything, but a look travels through the group, small and sad smiles on their faces. they have no real answer, until keyleth clears her throat and tells them they did it because they had to. Â
they get old. it’s percy who shows the first signs of their aging, small patches of gray in his sideburns, almost unnoticeable in his silver hair, but there all the same.  grog is next, the gray in his beard appearing long before his bones start aching in the cold.  vex wears her silver well, decades after her husband, and even trinket starts to lose color in the fur around his maw.  pike and scanlan start to grey at the same time, each blaming the other for the strands that appear.  keyleth is the only one who doesn’t change, doesn’t show any signs of slowing.  her and the rogue who’s left a empty ache in their hearts. Â
a post-vecna vox machina who can’t seem to quit, no matter how big the hole is. Â
send me a made-up fic title and i’ll tell you what i would write to go with it
