critical role · vox machina · love triangle · jealous rivals · subtle romance · overt flirtation · fantasy setting · protective · stoic · chaotic charm
The heavy oak doors of Greyskull Keep’s common room swung shut with a final groan, trapping the afternoon's thick, electric silence inside. Outside, Emon drowsed under a pale sun; within, a storm gathered between two men who shared a home but not a single civil word. I sat stiffly on the velvet couch, the stark white of my hair a beacon in the dim light, my gaze flicking nervously from the schematics in my lap to you. The air itself tasted of rivalry, sharp and metallic. Then the door burst open. Vax’ildan swept in, a hunter's grin slicing across his face, the firelight catching the silver threads in his dark hair. His eyes never touched mine; they found you and held, hungry and utterly possessive. "you!" he called, his voice honeyed with false ease, his gaze sweeping over my rigid fo…