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Vex had been having the nightmare for years, off and on. The one engulfed with fire, her brother’s voice ringing in her ears, reaching for her mother’s hand as it all went up in smoke and ash, despite the fact that she and Vax had only stumbled there in the aftermath.
The events of the last few days had only made things worse. The fire, the screaming, the paralysed and helpless feeling, they were all there, just as before. Only now, when she managed to turn away from the flames, there were spiracles of ice jutting up from the ground and down from the ruined house beams. Vax’s voice trailing off into thickened, hacking coughs as he choked on the poison. Percy, burning right in front of her from the acid eating through his flesh like they had all narrowly avoided back in Whitestone.
That red gaze, massive and ancient and inimical, was turning toward her, seeking her, finding her and she couldn’t move, couldn’t run, couldn’t hope to hide–
She awoke with a choked-off gasp.
The night air was down-right cold on her sweat-soaked forehead as she heaved in deep breaths to calm herself. It wouldn’t do, after all, to show weakness in front of Zahra and Kash. Not when Vex was so suspicious of them and their motives–and for good reason if she said so herself.
She turned over, facing the low-burning coals of the fire to determine what watch it was, who was up, who might notice her and her unrest.
It was easy to pick out Percy’s starlit-white hair where he sat, back to the fire, gazing out into the darkness.
Vex had already taken her watch, but she wasn’t likely to get back to sleep quickly after that. Not for a while, anyway.
Percy didn’t startle when she approached, having heard her steps. She hadn’t been trying to sneak up on him. He glanced up at the wheel of the stars, then smiled at her. “You're up early.”
She smiled, hoping he wouldn’t notice that it was maybe a little shaky still. It was dark, and Percy was only human. “Is that a problem?”
He smiled back. “Not at all.” He slid a little further from the fire, leaving her a space on the log they had pulled up for seating. She took it, settling into the body-warmed space he had left. And if she didn’t move away from where her bare arm touched the thick fabric of his coat, well. It was cold.
“I… had a bad dream,” she confessed after they had been sitting in silence for a few moments.
She could feel Percy’s eyes on her, but didn’t meet them, focused on the woods around them instead. “Dragons?”
“Mm.” She rubbed at the bowstring calluses on her fingertips. She thought about telling him then, spilling the whole thing, of her mother and the fire, of her vendetta against dragons and that one in particular. But the words caught in her throat. It was half Vax’s story anyway, she reasoned. And they had all seen how personal vendettas could complicate things.
“There it is again.” Percy’s murmured words caught her ears mere seconds before she heard the same noise that had caught his attention. A low trilling, like a night bird but several octaves lower, out there in the forest.
A few moments of silence, and then again, that same lilting noise, flitting through the trees, and, now Vex could hear, a soft crunching, like large feet on snow. Silently, she rose, creeping toward the edge of the clearing toward the sounds. Behind her, Percival had also stood, his gun out and to hand, though not aimed up just yet, ready to provide whatever support she needed from behind.
The noise was getting louder as she got closer, joined by a grunting, growling noise. Several creatures, she determined, maybe the size of Trinket, a group of them up ahead.
And suddenly she spotted them, a small group of owlbears, maybe a family, Vex thought, freezing in place. The starlight filtering through the trees silvered the lines of the largest, feathers sweeping back from powerful limbs, turned the littlest one, a mere cub, into a puffball of snowy feathers as it gamboled ahead of its parents and sibling. The largest gave a songful hoot to the little one and it came dashing back, frolicking around the rest of them.
Vex held her breath as she watched them pass, making their way through the trees to whatever their destination would be, turning gently away from the encampment that Vox Machina (and friends) had set up.
She heard the crunching of snow behind her, Percy approaching as the owlbears slipped out of view between the trees. Wordlessly, she grinned up at him to find his matching smile. It was wonderful, she thought, to see such majestic creatures at home in their natural habitat.
“I wonder,” she murmured, slipping forward to examine the churned up snow and twigs the massive creatures had left in their passing. She was lucky: only a moment’s searching and she had come up with not one but three owlbear feathers, gleaming in the starlit snow.
She was still smiling as she returned to where Percy waited, showing off her prize.
–
“May I?”
Vex gestured to his hands.
Percival hesitated only momentarily before nodding. The left one had been aching for hours and she had probably noticed him worrying at it with his right, alternately distracted from the surrounding Fey Realm by the ache and from the ache by the weirdness of the Fey Realm as they moved deeper into it.
They were taking a short rest on their way into the fetid swamp that apparently held their target. Percy had found a fallen log to perch on that didn’t look too rotten (and didn’t crumble and dump him on his ass or turn into weird snakes or something when he sat on it) a little apart from the others, just needing to get away from that Garmelie character for a few minutes. Apparently he’d been rubbing his hand and grimacing when Vex approached.
Taking his left hand in hers, Vex carefully slid the glove off, revealing the glimmering gem set into the middle of his palm. Still maneuvering with caution, she began to manipulate his hand, flexing the fingers back and forth as if testing the range of motion. “Does it hurt?”
By her tone he judged she meant in general, not her specific actions. “Not usually, no. Not anymore.” She was massaging the individual fingers now, starting with the pinky, tugging gently. “But usually I haven’t just fired off Diplomacy.”
She quirked an eyebrow at him, still working away. “Diplomacy?”
“Ah, yes.” He cleared his throat. “The gem. It’s actually residuum glass. As you might recall, it can channel magic . This one can channel lightning.”
Vex grinned, her nimble fingers sliding up over his hand, skimming feather-light over the gem to land on his wrist, where she applied pressure again. “I do so enjoy your names.”
She was looking down, focusing on his hand in between hers, so he couldn’t see, couldn’t tell whether that had had some double meaning, a little joke about his panoply of given names and titles in addition to his names for his inventions.
He had drawn breath to make some quip when her fingers put pressure in just the right place, in just the right way, and instead a groan was startled out of him.
It sounded half-pleasure, half-pain, like it had come from somewhere deep inside, brought about by Vex’s expert fingers and if that shitty little fey creature that had been following them around popped out to make a dirty joke about this scene Percy was fairly sure he would kill the little fucker.
Vex’s fingers had stilled, Percy’s cheeks were fully aflame, and they both sat tensed for someone to interrupt. But there was nothing but the weird hoots and rumbles that seemed to pass for normal in this part of the Fey Realm.
Briskly, methodically, Vex finished up, extending the fingers of his hand to their full flexion, then letting him loose. “Well? Better?”
He didn’t think he was imagining the faint flush on her cheeks, but her tone was all brisk business. Apparently they would be ignoring that little slip. Percy held his hand level, palm down, flexing his fingers gently. The gem still felt odd, probably always would, but the unpleasant ache that had been setting into the joints after he had fired off his device was subsiding. “Very much so. Thank you, Vex’ahlia.” He pulled his glove back on. “Where did you happen to learn that?”
She shrugged the question off. “Just… things I’ve picked up along the way I suppose.” Rising, she made sure her things were all secure with efficient movements. “Happy I could help.” She smirked, though again, Percy was sure there was pink still in her cheeks. “Sounded like you needed it.”
He wasn't sure whether to apologize for his lapse in decorum, or tease her right back, or question what she had been saying about names, or any of the hundred things that tried to fall out of his mouth, so it was lucky the others interrupted them before he could make an even bigger fool of himself… probably.
–
She had ruined all of his carefully laid plans, his rehearsed speech, his agonizing and overthinking of it all, and Percival found that he was completely and entirely okay with that. More than okay, with the sweat cooling on his skin as they both caught their breath.
He was trailing his hand up her side, trailing fingers over her curves, when his fingers spasmed painfully and he swore under his breath. Vex frowned. “Are you alright?”
“Nothing. Just my hand acting up again,” he confessed, waving the offending extremity dismissively.
Wordlessly, Vex caught his hand, gently spreading his fingers between her own.
It was a reminder of that time in the Feywild, before Saundor, before everything, her fingers clever over his palm, between the digits. Her fingers were slower, more methodical this time, tracing the lines of his palm until they met the scar tissue that had, thanks to time and healing spells, started to fill the hole in his palm again.
This time he gave full throat to the bone-deep groan her motions produced, no longer embarrassed to be heard enjoying her ministrations. “You are far too good to me, you know.”
She smirked. “Oh no darling, this is entirely selfish,” she purred, pairing her words with long pulls on each of the digits.
“Hmm?” His eliciting hum was pleased, curious.
“I’ve always liked your hands,” she confessed, hoping the flirtatious tone made it sound like just more teasing. “The long fingers. The delicacy when working with your contraptions.” She pressed a kiss to the base of his wrist, right at his pulse point. “The fierceness when you’re using them to fight.” A kiss to his bent knuckles.
She caught his gaze. He was entranced, pupils blown wide, pink staining his cheeks. “I always wondered what else you could do with your clever hands,” She grinned.
He surged forward, catching her mouth in another kiss, and she guided his fingers exactly where they could be the cleverest.