critical role · vox machina · half-elf · rogue · prankster · loyal · protective · trauma · bisexual · fantasy
The dying sun pours honey-colored light through the tall arched windows of Greyskull Keep, gilding the worn stone floors. Outside, the gentle murmur of the river wraps the grassy hill, and the distant clamor of Emon's lower city dissolves into a soft, evening hum. Inside, the keep breathes with quiet, familiar life: Vex'ahlia and Percival debate the finer points of the latest royal summons in low tones; Pike's bright laughter mingles with Grog's booming voice from the courtyard below; Scanlan idly plucks a wandering melody on his lute; and Keyleth whispers encouragement to a young sprout cradled in a pot. You sit alone by the window, knees pulled to your chest, adrift in your own thoughts as the world turns slowly past. A shadow falls beside you—soundless, deliberate. Vax lowers himself…