InsaneJournal

In the end, it was Velora that had noticed the additional dagger on Vax's belt. After having been picked up from school by one of the many guardians that lived in the Xhorhaus, she had bounded outside to where he had set up some targets on various trees to spare the walls, all set to watch him continue to practice. Vax knew that she probably would have preferred Vex's archery, but it warmed him nonetheless to know that she was either interested enough or simply wanted sibling bonding time enough to sit cross legged on the ground (the proper distance away as they had discussed, just in case) and supervise.

And barely a minute after she'd gotten comfortable, she pointed to his belt and asked, "What's that one?"

The dagger definitely hadn't been there when he had strapped his belt around his waist -- at least, Vax didn't think it had been there. He slipped it out of its place where it was innocently sitting, holding it in front of him and letting the sun glint off the blade. It seemed to literally dance across the metal, in a way that Vax had never seen before. It curved, the hilt ornate in a simple, elegant sort of way and was perfectly balanced as he shifted it to the tip of his finger.

"You know," Vax murmured, eyebrows high on his forehead, "I haven't the faintest."

Velora immediately tried to talk Vax into throwing it to see what it did, which led to Vax threatening a lecture from Gilmore on using or attuning to magical items without having their resident sorcerer take a look first. Though she didn't seem to think that was a fate to worry about, Vax slipped the dagger back into his belt -- but not before very nearly giving into temptation.

(Nevermind that he did give into the temptation almost as soon as Velora had disappeared back into the house.)

Once Gilmore came home from the shop for the day, Vax gave him approximately five minutes of unwinding and relaxing before slipping into the bedroom, cup of tea in hand because he tries to be a good boyfriend, and asking, "Any chance you have an Identify left in you?"

Settling himself after leaving the shop was a process for Gilmore. It involved resisting the urge to bring any baubles or artefacts or cloaks home to work on, questioning that choice, reminding himself that tomorrow was another day, taking a minute to appreciate silence, and then starting to remove the seemingly endless pieces of jewelry he wore. Shaun Gilmore loved his accessories, but actually taking off the earcuffs, chains, bracelets, and rings he wore out of love for show rather than for magical purposes was the sign he was home.

“Using me for my magic? Typical, typical,” Gilmore sighed, a hand pressed to his brow, another one to his heart, his face tilted to the sky as if to ask the gods above (if they were above, he was glorious but not the most devout) why he must suffer so. “And here I thought you were only in it for my outrageously good looks and charm. Alas!” He broke character and cupped Vax’s face in his hands so he could kiss him in greeting. He loved his dramatics, but he loved Vax much more.

“Oh, darling, I always have an Identify in me, you know that,” he said. Off went a matching set of thin gold bands off of each finger, leaving only one that held a purple stone that was hard to get any kind of good look at. Gilmore turned, and employed one of his most dangerous weapons--not something arcane at all, but instead, an eyebrow arch. “Now what am I Identifying and where did you get something that needs Identifying from, since it certainly wasn’t from me?”

As dangerous a weapon as Gilmore's eyebrow arch could be, Vax nevertheless found himself giving him a soft smile in return. It was hard not to; there was something delightfully domestic about getting to watch his partner shed his accessories from the day that sat particularly warm in Vax's chest. Getting to witness the different aspects that combined to form the man he was so overwhelmingly in love with was something that he was determined to never take for granted.

Vax stepped forward, hands moving to unsecure the belt that held his daggers from around his waist, easily slipping the new dagger out while he let the belt itself rest harmlessly on the edge of the bed. He would need to put it away in its proper place eventually, but for now he turned his attention to the single dagger. He effortlessly twirled it a bit between his fingers, absolutely showing off while letting the light of the room hit the blade much as the sun outside had earlier.

"I promise that there is only one sorcerer that I consciously procure fancy items from," Vax started, stepping in toward said sorcerer. With one last twist of his fingers, he held the dagger by the blade, the hilt facing Gilmore. "This one just showed up on my belt today."

“I can tell you like it, you’re going to keep it no matter what I say,” Gilmore accused, but it was all warmth and fondness rather than exasperation. Vax wore all black and hid in the shadows and had a difficult time confronting deep emotions and had conscripted himself to the Matron of Death, yes, however this easy playfulness came more naturally to him. “Though I’m not entirely certain how I feel about things just showing up on or around your belt area,” he added with a wag of his brow.

He took the dagger in hand, eyes flaring with arcane light. Ask Gilmore and he would have said that spells had a different experience entirely, all depending on what they did. Teleportation was similar to the feeling of the pit of your stomach dropping from missing a step, dispelling magic was literally seeing a spell and wiping it away like dust. Identify was holding something in his hands and suddenly knowing, yes, that’s exactly what this item is. It wasn’t his flashiest spell but damned if it wasn’t one he turned to time and time again. “The metal isn’t anything I’ve seen--it’s not from our realm at all, in fact, which explains the psychic damage involved. It will help with your damage over all, and I wouldn’t rely on this but occasionally you might find enemies frightened of you.”

That assessment made, Gilmore turned the blade around and handed it back to Vax. “You have somehow come across another Vestige, my darling. I don’t know how, or why, or what god you’ve wooed, but there you have it! There’s one other thing, small perk.” With that he waved Vax out through the door and down the hall, Gilmore himself took a few steps back as well and when he was satisfied with the distance, he held open his arms. No hesitation, no reluctance, just absolute certainty.

“Throw it at me.”

Vax felt as though he should have been more shocked that he'd found himself with yet one more Vestige, but somehow he wasn't. Even then, as he took the dagger from Gilmore and turned it over carefully a few times in his fingers, he could feel that there was something about it. Maybe he was imagining it, but it felt more weighty than his dagger of venom or flametongue dagger ever had, even if they both were magic by their own rights.

He didn't have too much time to ruminate on that, though, before Gilmore was ushering him out into the hallway. Vax returned to twirling the blade between his fingers, nearly dropping it when Gilmore's words clicked in his mind. He didn't drop it, of course -- and even, by some gods given miracle, didn't cut himself open on the blade as he juggled it between his hands before steadying it.

Vax stilled, raising an eyebrow at Gilmore; he had learned that move from only the very best. He was standing down the hallway as confident and certain as ever, but Vax thought it perhaps best to at least offer him an out, which he did with one single word: "Shaun."

“Darling,” Gilmore replied, patient. “You don’t have to do it if you’re unsure. But I promise you, this isn’t some sort of twisted relationship therapy.” Of course this would be the second time Shaun had asked him to do something ridiculous just to prove a point with a Vestige--three times, if you counted the two times he shoved Vax off of a cliff. Vestiges were powerful tools crafted specifically to take down gods and even though here in Vallo that danger and the danger of the Chroma Conclave were far away, Vax now had two. For no reason at all.

Which seemed entirely ominous instead of reassuring. They were safe and happy and surrounded by friends and family but still. Two Vestiges. At the very least, Vax should know what he had in hand, so that if he needed to, he could respond.

There was the more direct way of telling, but Gilmore did always like spectacle for spectacle’s sake.

“Throw the knife,” he repeated. It was quickly followed up with, “Just, you know, do try to avoid,” he gestured to the lower half of his face. Spare the facial hair, Vax.

A long moment passed where Vax's hesitation was painted clear in his expression. He trusted Gilmore completely and utterly -- had for much longer than the months of their heightened relationship -- and he knew that he wouldn't be telling him to do this unless there was something to be learned from it and unless he was certain. Vax knew all of this, but that didn't make it much easier to consider.

And yet, with a deep sigh that one might have called long-suffering, Vax let his gaze bounce across Gilmore's body in deliberation. It was a body that he knew intimately, of course, but his study of it had been for very different reasons than what he was thinking about right now. After a moment, he swallowed and met Gilmore's gaze. Raising the dagger, he requested, "Stay still." Sure, a moving target didn't really pose much of a challenge to Vax, but he really, really wasn't about to take any chances.

With a flick of his wrist, the dagger flew from Vax's fingers and toward its target -- Gilmore's shoulder. He knew where to aim for minimum damage just as well as he knew where to aim for maximum, and he was certainly looking to cause the former in this case. Even so, he tried to take as little skin and meat as possible, hitting Gilmore but hopefully doing more harm to his clothing than the sorcerer himself.

But before the dagger could meet its mark, Vax felt what he could only assume was the reason for this trust exercise. One moment he was standing there, the next he could have sworn he was part of the blade itself -- and then he was stood directly in front of his partner, dagger right where he'd aimed for it to hit.

"What the -- " he started, pausing before ending the phrase with a solid, "fuck," as he looked at the dagger and the hilt, his mind torn between what had just happened and Gilmore in front of him. "Are you okay?"

Vax’s disappearance and reappearance happened in just the blink of an eye, a flick of his wrist, solid to shadow to solid again. It was a dagger meant for a rogue who knew how to be fast, who moved through the shadows so easily he may as well have become a part of them. On its own the dagger wouldn’t take down ancient metallic dragons, but Vax wasn’t on his own. Vox Machina had done impossible things before, and armed with legendary weapons plus their terrible ability to plan but somehow it worked out? Well, that was a bet Gilmore would have taken.

He glanced down at the tip of the blad, close enough to indent his robe with contact but stopped just in time from actually cutting in. “Oh, excellent, I wasn’t certain that would work.” A beat. He chuckled and pressed his lips to Vax’s forehead. “I’m teasing! I’m sorry, darling, that was terrible of me, I had only the fullest of confidence in your skills, and my own, but in hindsight, a simple explanation would have sufficed. I’m completely fine, but the next mythical weapon you’re somehow gifted won’t have a dramatic demonstration.”

Well, probably at least.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Glmore set about removing the remaining daggers from the blinkback belt. Fortunately, it wasn’t the snake belt, which could turn into an actual poisonous snake. Vax liked his accessories as well, even if they weren’t as flashy. “Is it just the dagger then, no memories to accompany it? Were you looking for it? I don’t remember you searching for a knife as a potential Vestige.”

Had he not been so easily distracted by his new dagger that let him turn into shadows, Vax very well would have had a long list of teasing retorts to give Gilmore in return for this particular trust exercise. He would never dream of giving an honest complaint; it would be an outright lie if he said he couldn't appreciate the dramatic demonstrations. He remembered being pushed from a cliff twice now, after all, and both of them qualified as fond memories in his mind.

Instead he followed, turning the blade in his hands. He leaned against the dresser that sat across from the bed, Vax's gaze lifting to watch Gilmore. "No memories," he replied, not bothering to mask any of the relief he felt at that fact. He wasn't ready for more memories that featured near or actual death of his family, the destruction of his home, or developments in his love life.

"But, yeah -- I'm guessing this one's Whisper," Vax continued, returning his eyes to the dagger. "It was on the list, but it was also apparently at the bottom of the Ozmit, so this was probably far easier to procure than it will be at home. I think we were considering a trip to Ank'Harel for some cloak before we tried for this one."

“That’s absolutely how I know you’ve forgiven me already, you’re leaning on something,” Shaun teased, again, all warmth and familiarity and hands clasped to his heart in a swoon. Soon enough he was back on his feet and handing Vax the belt and daggers to properly put away. But after that, he touched Vax’s face, smoothed his thumbs across high cheekbones he knew and loved well.

“It’s just a blade for now. A useful, tricky one, but just a blade.” He kissed one of Vax’s freckles and patted his cheek before retrieving the cup of tea. A simple Prestidigitation cantrip heated it right back up. Gilmore’s fingers toyed through the steam pulling it the vapor this way and that to create designs.

“I’m from there--well, not Ank’Harel particularly, but outside of the city. In Marquet.” His voice changed slightly then, Gilmore’s pronunciation of the city and country contained a different cadence and emphasis on letters. Marquet was somewhere he didn’t like to dwell on often, he changed his name and worked hard to develop his Common as if to shake off his origins from a tiny, sandy, nothing town outside of a jewel of a city. But sometimes, when he was feeling especially reflective, he allowed himself to think about his parents, safe, because they chose to remain in Shandal instead of going with him to wherever Gilmore’s big dreams and bigger magic would lead him. He thought about wanting so much more, but being so afraid of it. “I haven’t been back in years, so I doubt I’d be much help to you.”

There were countless moments in Vax's life wherein he wished he was better with words, so as to accurately describe the relief and appreciation he felt to have been blessed with the people he had in his life. This was one of them, as he accepted the warm words and comforting gestures from Gilmore, the man successfully pulling him from the spiral he was on the precipice of. A moment more and he might have fallen in, his mind unable to pull from the worries at what it meant that he kept being given such powerful magical items and the wondering at what the cost might have been to get the item back home, the not knowing threatening to eat away at him.

But, he didn't. And by all the gods, Vax was so thankful he got to love this man.

Though he did move to put the daggers away, proper weapon storage becoming all the more important with every additional child (and pet) he lived under a roof with, Vax's attentions didn't leave Gilmore, especially as he began to speak about Marquet. He rarely asked for many details about Gilmore's past; his past was his own business, Vax thought, and though he would certainly be receptive to anything that was shared with him, it wasn't his call so he wasn't about to pry. Vax rarely talked about his own past, after all. That just meant he appreciated any glimpse he got all the more.

"You're always help to us," Vax said, because there wasn't anything more true than that. He closed the drawer, the blades and belt put away for the night, and paused, hesitating as he looked to Gilmore. After a brief internal debate, he decided to just go for it and asked, "Do you ever think about going back?"

“For good? No, no,” Gilmore said, quickly, flicking his fingers as if a visual to dismiss the idea. “I left for a reason. At this point in my life I’ve been away longer than I actually lived there. Not that you wouldn’t like it there, you would, I think. Ank’Harel is beautiful, there’s always music playing and good food and something different on every corner.” Or it had been, at least, Gllmore remembered how big and bright everything had seemed, this small slice of a different life that hinted at how large the world around him truly was. Cities changed over time, but he knew that the core of what Ank’Harel was would never.

“And it’s hot. Ank’Harel is located in the center of the desert, and that desert is massive. I’m afraid you’ll roast alive, darling,” Gilmore added with a chuckle and a gesture to Vax’s all black armor. “At night it cools off, but in the middle of the day? You may want to don some different apparel, please do not strike me down Raven Queen.” That last part was...mostly in jest.

He stayed quiet for sometime, lost in thoughts and memories of a different time and a different place. Gilmore had even been a different person, practically. Shaun’s next words were tentative, as if he himself wasn’t entirely certain what he was saying, or surprised that he was.“My parents are still there. They’re older--I was a bit of a surprise, I think. Always had to make a dramatic entrance, you know. I’d like to go back and see them, someday. When there aren’t dragons and barriers and such.”

"You're probably right," Vax said, glancing down at his body. "This armor is bad enough without my desert sweat."

As Gilmore fell quiet, Vax's fingers went to start shedding the amor in question. It took for-bloody-ever to get each piece off, but it was far enough into the evening that he was ready to relax and strappy leather armor just wasn't conducive. But even as he began that long process, he kept his eyes on the other man, curious and a sliver concerned as he let him work through his thoughts undisturbed. Vax knew what it was to get lost in memories of the past, after all. He'd spent much of his life stuck in it.

"Someday," Vax repeated, his hands stalling as he gave Gilmore a small smile and tossed his bracers aside. He stepped in closer, lifting one of his arms to trace his fingers along the seam of Gilmore's robes at his shoulder. "We already have a number of reasons to hope that someday without dragons and barriers is sooner, rather than later, but I wouldn't mind adding that to the list for you."

Gilmore didn’t stay lost for too long, he rarely did. To dwell in the past was to contend with an odd blend of regret, guilt, and relief. Leaving Marquet had been the right choice, but it hadn’t been the easy one. It made him a damn good sorcerer and businessman, but perhaps not a good son. It hadn’t been possible to be both when he left, but he had turned himself into that damn good sorcerer and businessman by sheer willpower and charisma. Maybe other things were possible too.

All of that right now was entirely moot, given their current circumstances, but it was worth reflecting on. Later. Lazily, Shaun looped his arms around Vax’s neck and pressed his lips to the top of his head. The perks when you were taller! “For now, I’m fairly content with our lives, darling. Even when you’re being divinely wooed with gifts that force me to engage in dramatic demonstrations when I otherwise surely would not.”

Being content was at least incredibly true!

"Surely not," Vax teased, though the tease held no bite as he took advantage of the proximity to lean into Gilmore's warmth. His head came to rest on the other man's shoulder as he continued, "Never stop with dramatic demonstrations. I happen to love them." A pause, then a smile. "In retrospect, at least."

Though the apparent wooing from divine entities gave Vax pause, the smile fading. He had come to terms with everything revolving around the Raven Queen. Seeing the echo of her here in Vallo, then catching up on memories from home where he'd agreed to be her champion; somewhere between the two of those, he had accepted that path. Even without her technically there in Vallo, it gave him a sense of peace that he didn't entirely know how to describe. It made him embrace the armor, but now he'd been gifted another vestige, this time from an entirely different source and -- it made him think. Vax didn't like thinking, sometimes.

"You don't -- " He paused, huffed out a breath and let his arms lift to circle around Gilmore, securing the embrace. "You don't think it's something to worry about, do you? Getting another vestige here?"

“Divination is outside of my purview,” Gilmore admitted with a wry twist of his mouth. “And you’re currently ahead of me for memories, so I can’t even provide insight that way. Cementing my theory that you are only with me for my equally stunning magic and good looks,” he added with a famously infamous wag of his brow. But he thought over the question, absently toying with one of the beads braided through Vax’s dark hair. On the one hand, no, he didn’t think it a warning from the gods or fate or what have you of some evil coming towards them--this blade wasn’t the first item to make an appearance and it likely wouldn’t be the last. And, truth be told, he didn’t want it to mean anything, because whatever it would mean was surely something terrible: destruction, carnage, death.

He sighed. Kissed the top of Vax’s head again. Tightened his embrace like that was enough to be actual protection. “It’s a blade, darling.” Shaun had said it earlier but that bore repeating. “A blade, and armor, but they both require you. You, my love, decide what they mean, or what you want them to mean. I worry about what it may mean because I worry about you endlessly, however blade, armor, spells, god’s champion, it doesn’t matter. Whatever will come, you’ll meet it head on, and you won’t do it alone.”

It was hard not to smile when he heard something like that, so Vax didn't bother trying to hide it as a soft one crossed his face. It was even harder to not feel that warm comfort settle in his chest at Gilmore's words, a reminder and a promise. Never before had Vax lived a life that was predictable, so he didn't expect that to suddenly change, just because he had gotten comfortable in Vallo. In fact, Vallo itself had proven that becoming complacent was folly in and of itself, what with the various oddities that they had dealt with over the months. But, one thing that would change were his friends, his sisters, his boyfriend being at his side; he didn't need Gilmore to remind him of it, but damn if he didn't appreciate the reminder nonetheless.

"Thank you," Vax said as he pushed himself up onto his toes (the downsides when you were shorter!) and kissed Gilmore, arms tightening around him just a bit. "I love you," he murmured, leaning back in for one more kiss, letting it linger like the (mostly) rogue he was, to punctuate the simple truth. He could say so much more and both had and probably would -- but, in that moment, those three words in particular felt like they captured it well.

"How about," Vax said a few moments later, feet once again flat on the floor, "I get this armor off and change into something less vestige, then you let me take you somewhere for dinner?"

“I do dole out phenomenal advice, it is true,” Gilmore agreed, with the confidence he wore as naturally as the garishly jeweled band that wrapped its way around his forearm. “However, you never need to thank me for it.” That came with the territory of being with someone, after all, being there for all of the good and all of the bad--though Gilmore, ever the optimist, believed that their lives had been far more good than bad so far.

Like now, even with the vestiges coming for who knew what reason. Even when, though he sounded sure (Gilmore always sounded sure), he struggled with the concept of not knowing. Gilmore might not have been able to match the near insatiable search for knowledge that his wizard friends had, but when presented with a problem he worked at it and he picked and he prodded and he toiled away until he solved it. Even when he’d stay awake tonight looking at the ceiling and wondering what it all meant. He believed that the good was worth it all.

He smiled against the kiss, one that could have been far more roguish for Gilmore’s liking but he was hungry after all, and murmured, “I love you endlessly, you cad.” Chuckling, he went to sit down on the mattress and leaned back on his elbows, and Gilmore wasn’t a rogue but he was certainly shameless. “Oh darling, you had me somewhere between ‘get this armor off’ and ‘take you’.”