Like Ships in the Night - Dorian and Imogen
Friday, 15 July 2022 05:11![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
walkyourownwayTitle: Like Ships in the Night
Chapter: Dorian and Imogen
Fandom: Critical Role
Main Character(s): Dorian Storm and Imogen Temult
Genre: General, Friendship
Rating: PG
Disclaimers: Campaign 3: Bells Hells © Critical Role
Notes: pending "In Too Deep". So I'm a bit of a late critter to Critical Role. I've never seen any of Vox Machina, and I've only really seen clips and highlight videos of Mighty Nein. Bells Hells started as also just watching clips and highlights too, but my brother and I have been recently trying to catch up with Campaign 3 in earnest. Once we've actually gotten caught up, we're planning on catching up with all the ExU videos as well. Especially because I absolutely love Dorian, and I need as much as I can get of this stupid blue bard haha.
In the meantime, I also just keep rewatching the end of episode 14, because I guess I'm just a masochist I don't know, but that's how I got the idea for these fics. At first I was just going to write just one fic, but then it started branching out into several things, so I decided to just make them into a collection. They're not necessarily connected stories, they're just little moments between Dorian and some of the others that I wanted to explore. I haven't thought of moments with each individual member of Bells Hells just yet, though I'm hoping to come up with something for everyone. But I also have a few things planned that might be a little more unexpected. Here's hoping I'll be able to write them up, heh.
This fic was the original idea I had, and it was intended to be a bit longer. But it started getting a little clunky, and I couldn't get certain ideas to flow right, so I trimmed it down. I think this turned out pretty okay.
Also, I did kind of intend for this to be a bit shippy, just because I do think Dorian/Imogen is really sweet. But it can be read as entirely platonic if you prefer, which is why I didn't actually tag them as a ship. However you want to interpret it is up to you.
Summary: Time continues to trickle by, each passing hour bringing the Wyvernwind Brothers closer and closer to their departure.
Some last minute words, thoughts, and feelings before Dorian has to say goodbye to Bells Hells.
Amidst all the conversation, Imogen realized after a moment that Dorian was looking at her. Curious, she opened her mind up to connect with him, but before she could ask anything his thoughts reached her first.
Imogen? Can you hear me?
She frowned, a little puzzled. Yeah, I can hear you.
Can I speak with you for a moment? He nodded his head towards the fireplace, a little away from the rest of the group.
Though she wondered at first why they couldn’t continue this conversation in their minds if he wanted to have it privately, she supposed it would have been easier for one of the others to interrupt if they didn’t look like they were speaking. At least the rest might give them a bit of space if they were a bit more obvious in trying to have a separate conversation.
...Maybe.
So eventually she nodded her agreement, and with another nod of his own Dorian rose to his feet just as Chetney began yelling at Cyrus again for a reason she didn’t quite catch. The timing seemed a bit convenient though, and vaguely she wondered, as she rose to follow, if Dorian had maybe put Chetney up to cause some kind of distraction.
They stood to the side of the fireplace, just enough away that the group wouldn’t be able to hear them. Imogen almost asked if he was okay, but stopped herself – of course it isn’t okay, none of this is okay, how could any of it be okay – and instead asked, “What is it, Dorian?”
Dorian released a puff of breath, and despite no longer reading his mind she could almost see the words turning over in his head as he tried to find the right ones. Finally, the words were drawn out slowly as he said, “I just kept thinking...about earlier, when you had apologized. I still maintain that it’s unnecessary, by the way,” he was quick to clarify. “And in fact, the more I considered it, the more I realized that I actually owe you an apology.”
“Me?” Imogen wondered. “What for?”
He paused again, his frown tensing his features. “I should have listened to you…when you were telling me about Treshi’s ring. But I didn’t even try to understand what you were saying. I thought I knew what I was doing…” He breathed out a humorless laugh. “I thought I knew better, and I shut you out. And for that, I’m sorry.”
Imogen pursed her lips together in a thin line. Admittedly, she had been so frustrated then that he wasn’t listening to her, worried that they would miss their chance to switch out the rings. But now...none of that seemed to matter.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Imogen insisted. “We still got the ring where it needed to be in the end.”
Dorian laughed again, but she couldn’t help thinking that it was almost a pained sound. “Not that I contributed much.”
“Don’t say that,” she admonished, her heart aching as she was reminded of some of his earlier words. “There was no way we would have been able to pass off being there without you. Even with Lord Eshteross’ help, he would have only been able to bring some of us, and there wouldn’t have been anything we could have done with only half the group in attendance. If anything, we’d put you under a lot of pressure, and that wasn’t fair to you.”
“There was a lot of pressure on all of us,” Dorian corrected, shaking his head. “The reason you had all asked me to present myself as a noble was because that was the world I had come from, and I had agreed to do it regardless. I thought I knew what I was getting into, but it was almost like I was out of my depth tonight.”
Imogen considered that for a moment, then placed a hand on his arm. “Well, you did tell us that we’d feel more confident if we stayed true to ourselves. And, to be honest, I think I much prefer Dorian Storm over ‘Lord Brontë of the Silken Squall’ any day.”
Dorian glanced at her, looking a bit surprised. After a moment though, the corners of his lips curled into a small smile as he placed his hand over hers. “Honestly? So do I,” he admitted. Then he cleared his throat, his expression turning a bit sheepish. “I’m sorry about the whole, uh…‘Maude’ thing, by the way.”
This time it was Imogen’s turn to laugh. “Yeah well...I guess it was only fair that we both had to pretend to be someone we weren’t tonight.”
He gently patted her hand. “I suppose.” Then his eyes ticked from side to side, as if he was debating something, before slowly adding, “I know this probably goes without saying, but I much prefer you as Imogen as well.”
It really didn’t need to be said, but Imogen couldn’t deny the warmth in her chest hearing the words anyway. Even so, she couldn’t help teasing him slightly, “Yeah? You sure you wouldn’t like having me following behind you all the time, catering to your every request?”
She half-expected him to become flustered and stammer out some kind of protest. But instead she was caught off-guard by the earnest look in his eyes as he stated in a soft, clear voice, “I would much rather have you standing right by my side anytime.” Then there was the faintest quirk of a smile. “Even if it’s just as you’re yelling at me inside my head.”
Another laugh bubbled up Imogen’s throat, surprise mixing with a bit of sorrow, and now she was the one left floundering for how to answer. Really, what could she even say to that?
Fortunately Dorian spared her from needing to respond as he spoke up again, “It is too bad that we were never able to have a dance together. It would have been fun, I think.”
Finally able to regain her composure, the laugh from Imogen this time came out almost as a snort. “It probably wouldn’t have been all that fun. I’m not much of a dancer.”
Dorian smiled, and Imogen caught the mischievous twinkle in his eyes that she had gotten so familiar with these past couple of weeks. “I still would have enjoyed the opportunity. Perhaps the next time we meet, I could teach you a dance or two.”
The reality that they might never actually have the chance to meet again hung heavy in the air around them. They both knew it was a possibility that their journeys would simply lead them farther and farther away from one another.
But still, there was also the hope that they could cross paths once more. That felt important to hold on to, no matter how unlikely it might be. So eventually Imogen replied, “All right. Next time then.” She tried to mask the lingering sadness with a light grin. “Hopefully by then you’ll have some tough boots, because I will be stepping on your feet a lot.”
Dorian returned the smile. “I look forward to the challenge,” he said, and Imogen willed herself to commit this moment to her memory.
In case this would be the last they could have.
Chapter: Dorian and Imogen
Fandom: Critical Role
Main Character(s): Dorian Storm and Imogen Temult
Genre: General, Friendship
Rating: PG
Disclaimers: Campaign 3: Bells Hells © Critical Role
Notes: pending "In Too Deep". So I'm a bit of a late critter to Critical Role. I've never seen any of Vox Machina, and I've only really seen clips and highlight videos of Mighty Nein. Bells Hells started as also just watching clips and highlights too, but my brother and I have been recently trying to catch up with Campaign 3 in earnest. Once we've actually gotten caught up, we're planning on catching up with all the ExU videos as well. Especially because I absolutely love Dorian, and I need as much as I can get of this stupid blue bard haha.
In the meantime, I also just keep rewatching the end of episode 14, because I guess I'm just a masochist I don't know, but that's how I got the idea for these fics. At first I was just going to write just one fic, but then it started branching out into several things, so I decided to just make them into a collection. They're not necessarily connected stories, they're just little moments between Dorian and some of the others that I wanted to explore. I haven't thought of moments with each individual member of Bells Hells just yet, though I'm hoping to come up with something for everyone. But I also have a few things planned that might be a little more unexpected. Here's hoping I'll be able to write them up, heh.
This fic was the original idea I had, and it was intended to be a bit longer. But it started getting a little clunky, and I couldn't get certain ideas to flow right, so I trimmed it down. I think this turned out pretty okay.
Also, I did kind of intend for this to be a bit shippy, just because I do think Dorian/Imogen is really sweet. But it can be read as entirely platonic if you prefer, which is why I didn't actually tag them as a ship. However you want to interpret it is up to you.
Summary: Time continues to trickle by, each passing hour bringing the Wyvernwind Brothers closer and closer to their departure.
Some last minute words, thoughts, and feelings before Dorian has to say goodbye to Bells Hells.
Amidst all the conversation, Imogen realized after a moment that Dorian was looking at her. Curious, she opened her mind up to connect with him, but before she could ask anything his thoughts reached her first.
Imogen? Can you hear me?
She frowned, a little puzzled. Yeah, I can hear you.
Can I speak with you for a moment? He nodded his head towards the fireplace, a little away from the rest of the group.
Though she wondered at first why they couldn’t continue this conversation in their minds if he wanted to have it privately, she supposed it would have been easier for one of the others to interrupt if they didn’t look like they were speaking. At least the rest might give them a bit of space if they were a bit more obvious in trying to have a separate conversation.
...Maybe.
So eventually she nodded her agreement, and with another nod of his own Dorian rose to his feet just as Chetney began yelling at Cyrus again for a reason she didn’t quite catch. The timing seemed a bit convenient though, and vaguely she wondered, as she rose to follow, if Dorian had maybe put Chetney up to cause some kind of distraction.
They stood to the side of the fireplace, just enough away that the group wouldn’t be able to hear them. Imogen almost asked if he was okay, but stopped herself – of course it isn’t okay, none of this is okay, how could any of it be okay – and instead asked, “What is it, Dorian?”
Dorian released a puff of breath, and despite no longer reading his mind she could almost see the words turning over in his head as he tried to find the right ones. Finally, the words were drawn out slowly as he said, “I just kept thinking...about earlier, when you had apologized. I still maintain that it’s unnecessary, by the way,” he was quick to clarify. “And in fact, the more I considered it, the more I realized that I actually owe you an apology.”
“Me?” Imogen wondered. “What for?”
He paused again, his frown tensing his features. “I should have listened to you…when you were telling me about Treshi’s ring. But I didn’t even try to understand what you were saying. I thought I knew what I was doing…” He breathed out a humorless laugh. “I thought I knew better, and I shut you out. And for that, I’m sorry.”
Imogen pursed her lips together in a thin line. Admittedly, she had been so frustrated then that he wasn’t listening to her, worried that they would miss their chance to switch out the rings. But now...none of that seemed to matter.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Imogen insisted. “We still got the ring where it needed to be in the end.”
Dorian laughed again, but she couldn’t help thinking that it was almost a pained sound. “Not that I contributed much.”
“Don’t say that,” she admonished, her heart aching as she was reminded of some of his earlier words. “There was no way we would have been able to pass off being there without you. Even with Lord Eshteross’ help, he would have only been able to bring some of us, and there wouldn’t have been anything we could have done with only half the group in attendance. If anything, we’d put you under a lot of pressure, and that wasn’t fair to you.”
“There was a lot of pressure on all of us,” Dorian corrected, shaking his head. “The reason you had all asked me to present myself as a noble was because that was the world I had come from, and I had agreed to do it regardless. I thought I knew what I was getting into, but it was almost like I was out of my depth tonight.”
Imogen considered that for a moment, then placed a hand on his arm. “Well, you did tell us that we’d feel more confident if we stayed true to ourselves. And, to be honest, I think I much prefer Dorian Storm over ‘Lord Brontë of the Silken Squall’ any day.”
Dorian glanced at her, looking a bit surprised. After a moment though, the corners of his lips curled into a small smile as he placed his hand over hers. “Honestly? So do I,” he admitted. Then he cleared his throat, his expression turning a bit sheepish. “I’m sorry about the whole, uh…‘Maude’ thing, by the way.”
This time it was Imogen’s turn to laugh. “Yeah well...I guess it was only fair that we both had to pretend to be someone we weren’t tonight.”
He gently patted her hand. “I suppose.” Then his eyes ticked from side to side, as if he was debating something, before slowly adding, “I know this probably goes without saying, but I much prefer you as Imogen as well.”
It really didn’t need to be said, but Imogen couldn’t deny the warmth in her chest hearing the words anyway. Even so, she couldn’t help teasing him slightly, “Yeah? You sure you wouldn’t like having me following behind you all the time, catering to your every request?”
She half-expected him to become flustered and stammer out some kind of protest. But instead she was caught off-guard by the earnest look in his eyes as he stated in a soft, clear voice, “I would much rather have you standing right by my side anytime.” Then there was the faintest quirk of a smile. “Even if it’s just as you’re yelling at me inside my head.”
Another laugh bubbled up Imogen’s throat, surprise mixing with a bit of sorrow, and now she was the one left floundering for how to answer. Really, what could she even say to that?
Fortunately Dorian spared her from needing to respond as he spoke up again, “It is too bad that we were never able to have a dance together. It would have been fun, I think.”
Finally able to regain her composure, the laugh from Imogen this time came out almost as a snort. “It probably wouldn’t have been all that fun. I’m not much of a dancer.”
Dorian smiled, and Imogen caught the mischievous twinkle in his eyes that she had gotten so familiar with these past couple of weeks. “I still would have enjoyed the opportunity. Perhaps the next time we meet, I could teach you a dance or two.”
The reality that they might never actually have the chance to meet again hung heavy in the air around them. They both knew it was a possibility that their journeys would simply lead them farther and farther away from one another.
But still, there was also the hope that they could cross paths once more. That felt important to hold on to, no matter how unlikely it might be. So eventually Imogen replied, “All right. Next time then.” She tried to mask the lingering sadness with a light grin. “Hopefully by then you’ll have some tough boots, because I will be stepping on your feet a lot.”
Dorian returned the smile. “I look forward to the challenge,” he said, and Imogen willed herself to commit this moment to her memory.
In case this would be the last they could have.
