It had been four days since the armor had appeared in Vax's bedroom, sometime between his waking and wandering through the keep in search of some coffee and breakfast and his return about an hour later to gather his things to greet the day. It sat on the chair of his room almost innocuously, innocent bits of armor that were waiting to be donned. Vax had stared at it for a few long moments, a coldness pooling in the pit of his stomach before he shook himself from his reverie, staunchly ignoring the armor for the moment. He had too much planned for that day to be shaken by Vallo's insistence on issuing reminders of a life in Exandria he felt he no longer had any control over.
The second day, he had gotten ready as normal, donning his usual armor despite sparing far too many glances in the direction of the Deathwalker's Ward. That night, he had moved it gingerly from the chair, looking at each piece with a furrowed brow as he considered his offer to the Raven Queen and what it might mean for him, what it might mean for his family.
On the third day, he almost put it on. Almost. Holding the first piece, a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously of Shaun Gilmore's reminded him that attuning to magical objects without having them looked over by someone with far more magical prowess than Vax himself wasn't the wisest of ideas. And so, he had put it down, worn his usual armor, and that night had gone about his now nightly ritual of trying to talk to the Raven Queen, as Pike had suggested, in hopes for answers.
He hadn't gotten any answers, which hadn't surprised him, but he still put the armor on anyway come today, the fourth day. The simple fact that it had taken until nearly the end of four days for Vax'ildan, thrower of daggers and shouter of Jenga, to throw caution to the wind was a miracle in and of itself.
And yet, Vax still had many questions. Donning one of his two (two) cloaks in an attempt to obscure what he was wearing from anyone who might be roaming the halls of Greyskull, Vax took off to Gilmore's Glorious Goods. It was evening by the time he had found himself moving to action, a lack of daily adventures that led to risking life and limb having made him a bit of a late sleeper and otherwise downright lazy on his days off. Vax ducked into a bakery to purchase two particularly good looking cinnamon rolls, then finished the trip to his destination -- pausing to tap a finger against the familiar signage before going inside the shop.
A small smile formed on Vax's mouth and he took in the interior, seemingly a bit different from a likely redecorating since the last time he visited. He meandered toward the nearest cloak (maybe his friends were onto something), waiting to be noticed in case Gilmore was tied up with a late customer who was less likely to try and flirt their way into paying less than full price for his goods and services. Old habits, as they say, die hard.
Gilmore was with a customer, in fact, although the easy laughter and flow of conversation seemed more like something shared between friends rather than a business transaction. As Vox Machina well knew, that was how Gilmore operated, charismatic enough to sell a dragon its own horde (too soon? Probably too soon) while making it think it had been its idea in the first place and thanking Gilmore for the opportunity. But sincere in his well wishes and compliments to the customer, and when that customer came back in a week or a month or in a year, Gilmore would remember everything they had talked about.
He sometimes wondered, if there wasnât meant to be more to his life. Holding up the barrier at Whitestone had meant something, because an entire city had been protected, no matter what it had cost Gilmore. Yes, he was a shopkeeper, yes, he loved enchantments and creating and decorating and design and interacting with customers, but at the end of the day, his shop had been reduced to rubble, all the goods gone. The Empress and her children had survived, even as Gilmore thought of all of the children that hadnât. The shop could be replaced, people could not. So he maintained barriers and he scryed on dragons and researched the black sphere that negated magic and sucked up anything and everything he threw at it, literally.
But here he was, back with a shop. Well. If such was his destiny, Shaun Gilmore was going to make the absolute most of it!
He sent the customer off with a shower of prestidigitation sparks, colorful and harmless but when given the opportunity to create a spectacle, Gilmore was going to make a spectacle. He looked up, instinct, shop senses, and the alarm spell he had placed around the store and his personal quarters all alerting him that someone had come in. Considering how it was almost closing time, it wasnât hard to find Vax by the cloaks. Of course.
âYou know,â Gilmore said, sotto voce, his eyes crinkled at the corners from amusement. âIf I can see you, you may want to reconsider your profession.â He crossed the space to press an air kiss to each side of Vaxâs face. Some may have recognized it as the French style of greeting, but as there was no France in Exandria, Gilmore claimed it for his own. âTo what do I owe this most fortuitous of visits?â
A grin immediately split across Vax's mouth the moment Gilmore's attention fell upon him, his free hand dropping the cloak that he had been testing for softness as he opted to instead turn and receive the other man's greeting. "Perhaps," he started, his grin turning into something a bit more conspiratorial, "your eyes are just too keen for my abilities, my friend."
Vax stepped back a fraction, taking in Gilmore before him as he held out the box in his other hand that he'd acquired from the bakery. "I brought you a pastry -- or two pastries, should your day have been one that might require two at the end of it. I would never insist on sharing, if that were the case." Well meaning bribery aside, he added, "I was also wondering if I could trouble you for some information on a, er. An object. If you wouldn't mind."
Gilmore arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow, waiting for what common sense and preview evidence would reveal as the actual motivation for Vaxâs unexpected arrival. âAh ha, thereâs the reason!â He didnât seem upset about it, of course, considering Gilmore himself cracked the same joke. The perils of mixing business and friendship! And really, the identifying spell took no effort at all, even if it was something Gilmore technically shouldnât have been able to learn. By now he was so old hat at assessing magical items that half the time he used the spell as a backup to confirm his instincts.
He took the pastry box from Vax and opened it, eyeing the contents as if assessing their merit too. âBribery! Well, at least youâre learning,â he said, joviality showing through in everything. âFortunately for you, I am susceptible to it, but even if I wasnât I can always find time for you, so!â Gilmore set aside the box to clap his hands together, magical and just flashy bangles, baubles, and rings tinkling together. âWhat did you bring me?â
As soon as he finished the question, however, Gilmore knew what the answer was. It hadnât been all that long ago that heâd done this very thing, identified a Vestige of Divergence. Vox Machina had been attempting to gather as many as they could to battle the Chroma Conclave, their search sending them far and wide, and would send them even further and into dangers untold if the legends were true.
âHave you spoken to Her, then?â he asked, carefully. Gilmore himself might not have had much for gods, but something like Pikeâs pure faith that pushed her to do so much good in the world, well, it was hard to be skeptical about that. Vaxâs new relationship, however, was different, brokered out of panic and devotion to his sister, not a god. He tried not to form too strongly of an opinion about that--a part of being the friend who stayed behind while the adventuring party went on their quest was that his role was limited to a sympathetic ear after the decisions had already been made and to help with the consequences, both good and bad.
Blowing out a soft sigh, Vax let his arms fold in front of him, glancing down at the leathers that he was wearing with a frustrated etch to his brow. The brightness to his mood and expression that came so naturally just by being in Gilmore's proximity dulled as he considered the armor as well as the question.
"I've been trying." And that was true. After his conversation with Pike, he had tried to reach out to this deity that he had attempted to bargain with. Every night, Vax had found himself in a small clearing behind Greyskull, nowhere within the keep feeling right, and he sat, feeling like a fool at first, but deciding it would be worth it if the many questions he had for the Raven Queen were answered. They weren't, of course. Whether that was just the nature of gods or if Vallo was truly that cut off from their home, Vax didn't know. There was much that Vax didn't know, but this was particularly disheartening.
And then the armor had showed up. "I didn't put it on until today, but I've had it for a few days," Vax admitted, one arm unfolding from the other to wave up his body and the armor that adorned it. "Obviously I know that things from home can just show up here." One more gesture with the same free arm, indicating the shop around them. "But, this. It felt like -- " Vax's words drifted off as he hesitated, his face scrunching up for a beat before he went on to ask, "Does it make me sound zealous if I say it felt like a sign?"
âVax, I,â sighing helplessly, Gilmore pinched his brow. âThis is a conversation that necessitates copious amounts of wine, I think.â But inviting Vax behind the beaded curtain that led to Gilmoreâs home felt too much like breaking down a barrier that heâd worked to build up. So, instead, sugar in the store. He flicked his fingers over the cinnamon rolls to heat them up, sending the scent of cinnamon through the air and cutting through the normal incense and herbs aroma. âYou better get to eating, Iâm about to wax philosophical and who knows how long youâll be here.â
He moved then, going about the store to close it down--dimming candles with a wave of his hand, pulling draped fabric down over the open windows, adjusting items that had been moved even slightly out of place by customers. âIf I can be perfectly honest with you, and I know I can be at this stage in our lives, I think you are someone who has always looked for a purpose. Itâs why you joined Vox Machina, not only because Vex wanted to, but because you wanted something to believe in, even if that was just a group of people who wanted to do some good in the world. And,â Gilmore looked over his shoulder. âWhen you give your word, you do everything you can to see it through.â
âWhich is why I think this is so hard for you,â he continued, still roaming about in a bustle of silk and jewelry. It was easier than looking at Vax, forlorn and lost. âYouâre loyal, and youâve given your word, to Vexâahlia, to Vox Machina, and now to the Raven Queen. And youâre afraid youâll let one of them, or all of them down. But Vaxâildan,â finally, finally Gilmore stopped his movements, his hands resting on Vaxâs shoulders and squeezing once, firmly, supportive and warm. âOnly until you determine what it is you want, what you truly want, will you stop feeling so divided. There is a way for all of your interests, for that purpose and meaning that you desire so badly, to come together instead of competing. And, darling, if the Raven Queen intended to immediately take you into some spectral service or whatever it is, why in all the realms would she send you armor to protect you?â
It was easy to do as he was told. While Gilmore closed up his shop, Vax followed slowly, ripping off pieces of cinnamon roll and eating it slowly as he meandered a few steps behind. Wine would have likely been better and he made a mental note to go that route the next time he came to the shop in the midst of some crisis, something that happened far too often for his liking. Still, the pastry was good and it gave him something to do with his hands; better, he figured, than twirling a dagger about.
But even as he nibbled on the pastry, Vax listened, hanging onto Gilmore's words. As usual, the other man saw through to the core of him, making Vax feel seen in a way that might have made him shy away were it anyone other than Gilmore. His sister and the others in Vox Machina knew Vax and they loved him despite his flaws, but he still found himself trying to obscure those parts of himself from view with them at times. Though he had been actively trying to do it less, he left rooms when conversations got difficult or he was overwhelmed. It was different with Gilmore and had been for quite some time. And yet, given the state of flux that Vax had kicked their relationship into that night at the tavern in Emon, he wasn't sure if he was allowed to find solace in that comfort. Boundaries were important, without a doubt. The existence of affection and feelings that never truly went away, though, made them more challenging to navigate.
Vax's attentions on the cinnamon roll dissipated as he hesitated, letting Gilmore's question sink in. His gaze dropped, breaking from Gilmore's due to contemplation more than anything else. "I hadn't thought of it that way," he admitted, tone thoughtful. "If she wants me to don her champion's armor -- if she wants me to be her champion, it wouldn't make much sense to whisk me to the other side of the Divine Gate where I can't do anything in her name."
Gilmore had said a lot more than just that, though. Vax let his eyes raise, his gaze meeting Gilmore's. "I truly am trying to figure out what it is that I want. Being here, in this place, has opened my eyes to opportunities that I might not have had back home or that I just hadn't realized were even something I was allowed to consider wanting." His mouth quirked, the corners lifting into a soft smile. "I think that I have assumed that my purpose must involve death-defying adventures for so long that it's hard to adjust to the idea of anything less stressful."
Gilmore couldnât help but snort a laugh, rare in its inelegance. He was incredibly meticulous about his appearance, somehow caring too much about how others saw him, and not caring at all at the same time. âYou do realize, you of the death-defying adventures, have pledged your services to the goddess of death? Iâm sorry, itâs not funny, but, the irony,â he covered his mouth in an attempt to block the chuckle, even as it felt somewhat cathartic because the situation itself was frightening in its uncertainty and what it all could possibly mean. Gods tended not to give away something for nothing, there was usually an exchange, even if the most obvious âVaxâs life for Vexâahliaâsâ hadnât happened. And while no one knew the will of the gods, Gilmore tended to believe in everything happening for a reason--armor came because Vax was supposed to use it in the here and now.
His knuckles tapped lightly against Vaxâs jaw. âWell look at that, some optimism, perhaps. Will wonders never cease?â Again, Gilmore remembered, belatedly. Barriers. Boundaries. He turned his focus to a necklace, deciding that it needed a shining at that moment. âYou have time, you know. Deciding what it is you want for your life and in your life can take years for some people. Hell, Iâm of aâŚ.sage age,â Gilmoreâs glance was teasingly cautionary, as if warning not to challenge him on his carefully selected vocabulary. âAnd just when I think Iâve figured it out, life comes along and knocks us all for a loop. Allow yourself to dream. Your friends and family will be there to support you in everything.â
When Gilmore was finished shining a gem to his specifications, he looked up, arcane sparks flaring from his eyes. Heâd already tapped into the magic running through this armor once before, minutes after assassins had targeted Whitestone, but a second look wouldnât hurt just in case something had changed, or the magic of Vallo had tweaked the enchantment, just as it had perhaps tweaked Vaxâs ability to commune with the Raven Queen.
âAre you ready to discover what youâve got, my friend?â
It was almost a relief when Gilmore's attention turned more directly to the armor again. Though Vax would always appreciate any bits of wisdom that he was gifted from Gilmore, his attentions had started to drift; not out of disinterest, but simply due to the fact that he had to use so much of his willpower to not lift one of his hands to graze the spot on his jaw that the other man's had touched, as though he was a lovesick teenager. Vax might have only been less than a decade away from his age ending in teen (a fact that kept him from cracking wise to Gilmore's aforementioned "sage age"), but he knew that he wasn't allowed to be lovesick anymore. At least, he wasn't supposed to be.
It was one more task to add to the list of things he was to sort through later. Decide what he might want out of a life in Vallo and away from the dragons and other assorted dangers of Exandria. Figure out what the Raven Queen wanted of him, especially if she was going to send him armor. Unravel the mess that he had made of his heart. Simple tasks, to be sure.
Vax's posture straightened as he looked at Gilmore, holding his arms out slightly at his sides despite suspecting that it wouldn't really help the spell. "Please," he requested, offering the other man a smile. "If you don't mind."
âNo, no, the spell works best when youâre on your head, spinning around,â Gilmore quipped, but he quickly followed it up with, âIâm teasing, please do not do that, although it would be entertaining.â He reached out a hand and brushed his fingers along the leatherwork, marveling. âThe detail alone is exquisite, and Iâm so jealous of the enchantment my skin might be turning green. You have on your hands a powerful Vestige and it looks,â his brow furrowed, arcane knowledge coming to him--Gilmore had already examined the Deathwalkerâs Ward, of course, but he had more time this go round, and that time wasnât conflicting with the adrenaline of fighting assassins. âIt requires attunement, but it looks as if...yes. Youâve already attuned to it, of course you have, why bother listening to an incredible enchanter, what could he possibly know!â Said with a dramatic eye roll high to the sky that gave away that yet again, he was teasing.
He continued his examination, walking around Vax in a slow circle. The effect was somewhat like being under the only beam of light in complete darkness, but Gilmore seemed focused only on the armor. âDark magic, donât panic, thatâs fairly typical of death based magic, this is going to do wonders for your overall defense, and itâs got an enchantment to protect the wearer when on that border of life and death, as well as protection from most elements, when given instruction, and, one other thing.â Gilmore lifted his hands in apology. âYou know I love a dramatic moment.â
Gilmore clapped his hands, calling up an enchantment to seal off the shop, and then there was a rush of wind and a sparkle of bluish, purple energy before they were no longer in the store at all. Instead, Gilmoreâs teleport spell had landed them on the edge of a cliff. The wind whipped Gilmoreâs purple robe around his knees but of course, of course nary a hair fell out of place from where heâd pulled it back. Salt from the choppy ocean below that broke against jagged rocks scented the air. The sky was a pallet of purples and blues, as the last bit of the sun was fading, leaving twilight in its place.
âVexâahlia is simply going to murder me for this,â he said with a rueful sigh. âAlas.â
And then he pushed Vax off the cliff.
Vax had only just grappled with the fact that Gilmore had teleported him to some curious cliffside, briefly taking in the view before he started to turn with a raised eyebrow. Gilmore's hair might have been unaffected by the sudden winds, but Vax's long, loose strands immediately whipped across his face, forcing him to lift a hand to pull it back -- just in time for his entire self to go toppling over the side of the cliff.
He yelped, of course. Not because he didn't trust Gilmore by any means, but Vax wasn't exactly prepared for this surprise of an extreme trust exercise.
But just as he hadn't had much time to grapple with the sudden teleport, Vax also didn't have much time to consider his mortality as he plummeted toward the ocean below. One moment he was falling and then, from the corner of his eyes, he could see a pair of large black wings stretch out to either side of him, catching the air and allowing him to just -- glide. A wide, joyful grin crossed Vax's mouth before a laugh bubbled out of his chest a second later, his arms going wide as he flew, he flew.
Flying carpet or not, his darling sister was going to murder him right after Gilmore.
The wings were more intuitive than he would have expected, taking very little time for Vax to get the hang of them. He turned, flying back up the cliffside to drop to the ground, skidding to a halt before Gilmore, that exuberant grin still present on his face. Momentarily forgetting about those boundaries he was trying so hard to not forget about, he reached out and placed a hand on either one of Gilmore's shoulders. "You are a brilliant, beautiful man," he said, his entire face lit up. "Thank you."
Gilmore had the benefit of past experience in addition to the knowledge gleaned from the spell, but that didnât stop him from peering over the edge of the cliff, a Feather Fall spell at the ready just in case. Accidentally killing one of your nearest and dearest friends was poor form. But fortunately, that experience and knowledge won over alternate planes of existence and Vax was soaring through the air, the Raven Queenâs magic activating instinctively. He wondered what that meant, and that Vax hadnât needed to attune to the armor at all. What it meant for the future.
He didnât have time to go down that rabbit hole of arcane theory before Vax was back on land and close, too close. He thought then, about a day similar to this one, but in Whitestone, with a rakshasa wearing his face. He thought about a tavern in Emon. And after forcing himself to consider those things, to actually weigh them for what they were worth, Gilmore was suddenly just out of reach, the silk of his robe too smooth to hold on to.
âWell, I am those things, yes,â he agreed, chuckling. âBut thereâs nothing to thank me for. I didnât enchant this, though I am again, exceptionally jealous of the magic. And now that it worked, I can admit that I cheated and have already seen the armor, and you asked me to identify it. This part,â he gestured to the cliff. âI suppose I could have explained it, but the demonstration was much more fun. Now donât go leaping off of buildings or cliffs trying to rile up Vexâahlia or after making a bet with Grog. Youâll most likely have to rest in order to have access to the wings again. But, if youâre using the Boots of Haste, and being as fast of a rogue as you areâŚâ Gilmore trailed off, his eyebrows dancing with the suggestion. âWell. Youâll be hard pressed to find someone or something faster.â
As Gilmore so easily slipped from his fingers, Vax tried to ignore the squeeze in the center of his chest. His arms crossed loosely in front of him, an attempt at a casual stance as he likewise tried to ignore the familiarity of the feeling, a memory of standing in front of the Sun Tree with Keyleth at the edge of his mind. It was a fair reminder that perhaps he ought to bump unravel the mess of his heart part of his to-do list closer to the top, for better or for worse.
Vax's gaze broke from Gilmore, his head turning as he extended one of his arms out so his fingers could brush over the long, soft feathers of his still extended wings. They were remarkable, even if finding out what all the armor could do did little to answer the question of why it had shown up in Vallo in the first place. Perhaps it simply was the nature of the gods to leave their followers and champions wondering; Vax had been so-called zealous for only a short time, after all, and he'd only just accepted that his attempted pact with the goddess of death might have had unintended and more somehow more lasting consequences than his original offer.
"I do like being fast," Vax said, an understatement if there ever was one. As he turned his attention back to Gilmore, the wings dissipated in a cloud of black feathers, leaving just the slight half-elf in their wake. "Even besides your help with this, there are a great many things that I ought to thank you for, Shaun, and perhaps even more that I should apologize for." He smiled once more, this one a bit small. They were words that were a bit more somber than Vax had been intending, but for a man that avoided emotional conversations like they were a greater threat than four ancient dragons, he couldn't always help himself. "But I appreciate you and your willingness to give me, and all of us, really, your time. We're lucky to have met you when we did."
âVax, we donât--â Gilmore started, near speaking over Vax when he began speaking of apologies. He looked almost brittle, just for a moment, vulnerable in a way that Shaun Gilmore never let himself appear in favor of the glorious Gilmore of the flashing jewelry and loud laughter and charm practically dripping off of him. For someone who seemingly always knew what to say, he simply wasnât prepared to have another conversation that started and ended with âbutâ. Perhaps that wasnât fair to Vax, but right now it felt too much like rubbing salt in a wound that had only just begun to stitch itself together.
Nine Hells, was that dramatic. That apprehension and tenseness that had crept up into Gilmoreâs shoulders almost subconsciously left as soon as itâd come, however, leaving behind the confident arcane shopkeeper with an easy grin. âNonsense,â he said, waving off the thanks. âWhat are friends for, hm? You all are dear to me, in spite of your lack of funds, and your friendship is something I value. Now, if you felt so called to save my life again if there should be a dragon attack, I wouldnât argue, but besides that!â He shrugged, a casual tilt of one shoulder as he examined the nails of his other hand. âThink nothing of it.â
Trying his very best to be subtle with the way that Vax was watching Gilmore (and very likely failing; despite his skillset, he had never been very good at the art of subtly when it came to his loved ones, of which Gilmore was certainly one), he swore that he saw that flicker of a drop in his usual air and it was enough for the half-elf to pull back on his own feelings at the moment. It made that ache in his chest just grow, a guilt joining the feeling. Though it felt wrong to do so, he tried to push it aside, at least for the now. He could dwell and overthink later, when he wasn't standing in front of the man.
And so, he let his arms cross in front of his chest once more and shrugged a shoulder in mimicry of Gilmore's own casual movement. "In that case, I will have to request one more thing." Vax leaned to the side, looking around Gilmore and then to the rest of the general area around them. When his gaze returned, he gave Gilmore a teasing smile. "I am not the tracker of this set of twins, so you might have to help me get back to civilization."
âWeâll just keep this entire time secret from Vexâahlia, might be for the best for both of us,â Gilmore said, and the conspiratorial tone paired with the wink he threw in was hopefully enough to assuage the slight breach in his armor. âAlthough Iâm certain you regret putting those wings away as soon as you did.â
From a pocket he pulled out a piece of chalk and on the rocky ground, Gilmore started drawing a circle inscribed with sigils along interlocking circles and lines that connected all of it. Straight on teleporting would have been faster, but he could do that spell only once before needing to rest in order to be able to do it again. Using a circle took less energy, but was also less flashy, and of course when given the choice, Gilmore was going to take the flashiest route. Only the best when you pushed your friend off a cliff to demonstrate what a gift from the goddess of death could do! Once he finished with the last line, he stood up and as he blew the chalk dust off of his fingers, the most inner circle began glowing with the same shimmering, glowing, arcane energy that appeared whenever Gilmore cast a spell. âStep quickly, darling,â he encouraged.
The light in the center consumed the environment, the cliff and the wind and the salt in the air gone and replaced with Gilmoreâs living quarters. Attached to the back of the store and guarded by a beaded curtain (and copious amounts of wards, of course), the place was covered in lush fabrics in rich colors draped on the walls and furniture. Gilmore was a man who liked his luxuries, but comfort too, and where he lived was somewhere meant to be a private, personal sanctuary. âI do hope you know your way back now,â Gilmore said, lightly. âIf you get lost, you run the risk of Vexâahlia sending Trinket out to find you and Iâm not sure thereâs much higher of an indignity.â
Vax didn't know why he had felt that quick jolt of surprise when he stepped into one circle and appeared in Gilmore's living quarters, but he felt it all the same. It wasn't the first time he had been there, but he nevertheless knew he had given up rights to it. Still, his keen eye couldn't help but flick around, curiously taking in a few details to compare to his memory before he turned and smiled at Gilmore. "She's already going to have kittens when I tell her a god gifted me the ability to fly, so I really ought to try to avoid antagonizing her too much more."
Dipping his head to Gilmore, Vax started toward the beaded curtain that he was more accustomed to seeing from the opposite side of the doorway. Not wanting to overstay his welcome and also feeling as though he already had a full mind to consider and couldn't handle the chance of adding to it if he lingered too much longer, he lifted a hand. Parting the strings of beads and preparing to find the nearest shadows to disappear into as he departed, he added by way of farewell, "Have a good night, Shaun."