[image description: a full color profile illustration of Imogen, from campaign 3 of Critical Role. She is wearing a long, flowing lilac dress, cinched at her waist with a corset and belts. Between her outstretched hands she gathers red lightning magic, and glowing red marks follow from her fingertips up her arms and to her neck. Her expression is focused. End ID.]
“I’m not wise at all. I told you, I know nothing. I know books, and I know how to string words together—it doesn’t mean I know how to speak about the things that matter most to me.“
From this moment on, I thought, from this moment on—I had, as I’d never before in my life, the distinct feeling of arriving somewhere very dear, of wanting this forever, of being me, me, me, me, and no one else, just me, of finding in each shiver that ran down my arms some-thing totally alien and yet by no means unfamiliar, as if all this had been part of me all of my life and I’d misplaced it and he had helped me find it.
