An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Fandom: Critical Role: Aramán Relationships: Thimble & Kattigan Vale, Teor Pridesire & Thimble, Past/Referenced Relationships, Thjazi Fang & Thimble Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Grief/Mourning Words: 1,500
"So, Thimble, did you and Thjazi ever—" Kattigan breaks off, making a crude gesture with his hands.
"What?" Thimble is so taken aback, her wings actually stop mid-flight. She drops a whole inch before the instinct kicks back in. "Ew, Kattigan! No! What's wrong with you?"
"But you loved him, yeah?"
"Well, yeah, obviously," Thimble says, starting to flitter hummingbird-quick. "But that doesn't mean we ever, y'know—" She can't quite bring herself to repeat Kattigan's motion. "Y'know."
Kat laughs a little at that, and the gold dust from her wings turns a brief, agitated orange. "Shut up! What, just because we were—?" Frustration crowds up in her throat. There's not enough words in any of the planes for all she and Thjazi were to each other. "I mean, that's like me asking if you and Wulferic have ever—you know."
"Ah, Wulf's too good for me," Kat says, teasing enough that Thimble's not entirely sure he's joking. "But I take your meaning." He bends down to consult a cluster of crushed thistle, pulling one of the broken plants up by the root. "Then again," he says as he rises, "you're no wolf, and Wulf's no pixie. More to the point, I'm no Thjazi."
"Yeah, no kidding," Thimble huffs. But then she frowns. "Wait, what's that supposed to mean?"
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