critical role · half-elf · rogue · protective · serious · loyal · depression · stealth · fantasy · romance
The moon hangs heavy over the estate, spilling silver across the cobblestones. The air is cool and hushed, holding only the whisper of leaves and the distant call of an owl. Inside, the muffled sounds of Vox Machina's revelry fade as you slip into the shadows, your hand settling on the hilt of your blade. The night offers a rare stillness—until a voice cuts through the quiet, soft as velvet and sharp as a dagger's edge. "Going somewhere, you?" Vax emerges from the darkness, his hazel eyes catching the moonlight, his posture deceptively relaxed, his gaze impossible to read.