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"Since waking I had concocted five different methods of killing her without anyone noticing it done," Quinn picked up a rock, tossing it aside in the skating steam. "At least a dozen where it would be discovered, if only to see someone's reaction. I need my mind to quiet by some fraction, and this will help..." |
"I must admit I am a...tad curious as to what you would have done. But I also know that the result would weigh on you for months to come; better the chit be gone, and mayhaps we can catch a song in the city and know it was worth it." |
Quinn swallowed, their throat burning. Hells, they hoped. "Thank you, Astarion." |
"Whatever for." |
"Recognizing that I am not some perfect Paragon of virtue, whether I act like it or not. Not shying away from the truth." |
"I only do what you've done for me, Though. If we're being completely honest. That you do try, it's leagues above what some may claim. And I understand what it's like. For someone to look at you and feel disappointment because you couldn't live up to their standards of being "better" for everyone's sake. It's actually.... |
He glanced away, his throat bobbing. Quinn wanted to give him the privacy of at least breaking their gaze from him but they were fascinated. Always so fascinated, just by the look of him. |
"This wasn't supposed to be how it happened. You weren't supposed show me the kindness you have. I was meant to seduce you, to use you my protection from Cazador and the rest of the world. And instead." He bit off that last word. The vampire turned his head and met their expression with their own. "Here we are." |
Quinntav had to grip the earth with their tail to keep it from fluttering, to claw the grass, and bite their lip. |
Asterion's expression turned dry. "Needy, aren't you?" |
"Just happy to be sitting with a friend." |
He startled viabily, pulling back. "Friend"? Is that what, is that what the common folk call it?" He attempted to laugh away his surprise, but Quinntav was secretly panicking. What had they said? Had they assumed too much? Too little? |
"At minimum, I believe." Why couldn't they shut up! "Let's see, we've shed blood together, shared blood together, told each other our favorite foods," Quinn let their eye brows bounce, Astarion scoffing. "And I care for you, Astarion. Dearly. I can't help it at this point and I don't want to. But we are as we are, what... |
"Well, I-- I don't know, really." Quinntav kept their surprise for his stutter under a friendly smile, the usual, really. "I think in all of my years since becoming a vampire all I've had are lovers and victims. And oftentimes lovers who became my victims, that is to say. I can't remember enough of my life before, eith... |
"You were a magistrate," they pointed out. "I can't assume that comes with many friends." |
"A good point. I've spent enough time around others of those ilk that I can say with confidence that it's hardly any different. But a friend. You, as my friend." He seemed to be trying out the idea, turning it in his mouth, in his head. Hells, he wasn't making keeping calm easy. "I like the sound of that. Thank you. Qu... |
He offered his hand. Quinn stared at the turned over palm, suddenly frozen at the gesture. It should have been an easy thing to do, reaching out, touching their fingers there, holding it back. And they did, with a stinging in their eyes and a pressure on their chest and a smile on his face that made them shiver. |
Needy. That was a word for it. |
"Funny how that happened." |
In the far corner of the warm bar, the nearby fire light of the hearth and the many candles turning the atmosphere a comfortable orange, Alfira turned her head stubbornly away. The smallest scowl gave away both her unease and her bravery. Proud child. Quinn glanced at the table, one hand still around their drink, but d... |
"Are you going to say anything," Astarion asked them, admiring for a moment the soft sheen of sweat on their throat. The tavern was...quaint, to say the least, with a bottom floor half sunken into the ground and a second barely held together with paint, timber, and sheer luck. But it was the first piece of civilization... |
The others were about, of course: Karlach in the stables minding the horses with the Blade, Shadowheart the first one to claim a tub, and Lae'zel doing...whatever it was that she did when she wasn't challenging someone to a fight to the death. Beneath the road table Astarion shared with his Hunter, Scratch yawned great... |
Quinn, not Quinntav. Everyone else called them by their nickname, and Astarion was giving it a taste. He. Liked it. He liked being their friend. It was...nice. Safe, perhaps. The...safest Astarion had felt in a long time. Then why, why did he still wonder? |
"It was bound to happen eventually," Quinn replied, making Astarion wonder if they were trying out the mind reading trick, but then recalling the girl. Right. They would never without asking first. He was sure of it. "As slow going as we are, we are headed in the same direction. It'll be slow getting up in the morning,... |
"I can help. It may surprise you but I have some experience in dealing with corpses," he lifted one leg over the other, feeling his boot brush their own trousers. Quinn's tail sashayed in his direction, not that it was ever far. "Though perhaps if it means I can try a taste." |
Their jaw dropped. "Are you asking to cheat on me?" |
"Chest!" I wasn't aware that ours was a closed relationship," Astarion replied, forgetting himself and taking a drink of his own beverage. The garlicy sludge turned his stomach, and Quinntav cackled at his response. Astarion shoved it away, swearing never to make the mistake again, though that damned tail was worked up... |
"You're such a mongrel!" |
"Says the cat." |
"Do I look like a beast to you!" |
"You're spitting mean enough to be one," they replied, all teeth when Astarion slapped them on the shoulder. He didn't mean to, he just did it. He kept just doing things. Astarion had always been so damned aware of his body. Of how he held himself, of what he hungered after, of the filth, the need. But since Quinntav c... |
"I need a bath," Quinn commented, sliding their attention to the door as it opened, Karlach and Wyll stepping through with bellowing laughter coming from the true born Tiefling. From the false, Wyll recently cursed and bearing a pair of horns himself, Astarion saw something like the beginnings of love. Shame Shadowhear... |
"Which room will you be in?" |
"Seven," Quinn replied, rising. |
"I'll join you," Astarion decided. "Wyll can have Gale. If I have to sit through another lecture on the physics of evocation on a celestial body I'll tear out my hair." |
"You love you hair," Quinn waved to the pair heading to the bar, Karlach sending Astarion a wink that he flashed his own teeth at...he was really spending too much time with the Bard. "And discussions about physics on a celestial bodies." |
"You can talk at me about the sciences all you like, dove," Quinn told him, pointing out their room, opening it first and walking in, sweeping every corner. A fire was banked, but the tub was further down the hall, in a separate room, he knew. "It'll go right over my head but I'll smile and nod like any good student wo... |
"I think I would enjoy that," Astarion confessed, keeping his voice a silky sort of agreeable, while inwardly he was a battle of wills. It sounded dreadfully domestic, a concept as terrifying as it was...well, simply nauseating. But as he observed Quinn gathering spare garments from their travel bag, humming along to a... |
And yet the very thought filled his chest with dread. He swore he wouldn't do it again, and yet. |
It was too much, too soon. They had weeks before they reached the city, and if they survived any of it at all, well. Then perhaps he would ruminate on it more later. Perhaps it would actually make sense. |
Quinntav stood before him, their boots set aside, the collar of their fine white undershirt undone, a corner of the hem pulled from their trousers, and there beneath their arm the replacements they had gathered. Pulling off their leathers had tossed their hair; it was getting long, cowlicks lengthening into jagged edge... |
"Fetch your scissors," he ordered them, their frown turning cute. "I'm cutting that mane you call hair." |
"Flower petals, graveyard ash, |
Silvered skies, the blue of your favorite sash..." |
Quinn trailed off, shivering despite the warmth of the water enveloping them. Smiling, eyes closed, at the feeling of fingers in their hair. Tugging, measuring, cutting. |
"Lose your place," Astarion murmured from behind them. He was sitting upon a stool borrowed from the bar, his legs spread against the outer wall of the curving, wooden vessel as he worked. It was a sight to behold, Astarion rolling up his sleeves, raising a brow in fine surprise as they stripped and slid into the water... |
Astarion's voice was soft, almost contemplative; the entire situation had lulled Quinntav into a half asleep sort of complacency. |
"You make me stupid sometimes," Quinn replied, their voice barely above a growl. Gods, they could nap right there. If only Astarion would allow them to lean back with their head in his lap-. |
"Head up, darling. I want this to be even or it will never cease to be a bother..." Her failed to mention if he meant a bother to him or to Quinn, though Quinntav already knew what he meant. |
"Where did you learn to cut hair," Quinn asked, hearing another lock shorn, perhaps enjoying the sound it gave too much: it was innocent enough, all things considering. |
"As with all things: Cazador. When he was turned his hair grew down to his ass. It looks like seaweed sticking to his skull when he lets it out...so," he paused tilting their head back, allowing Quinn a wonderful view of his turned down, gently furrowed brow. "Every day he would pick one of us to cut it off." |
"Why didn't you kill him." |
"A question I asked myself every time, and every night after. Because I was a coward. We all were, well," he shrugged a shoulder, nearly minding the hairs that had begun to try to cover the front of their ears, a ghastly thing when they tickled their inner lobes. "Some of us also craved the possibility of being made tr... |
He sat back, wiping the scissors on a small cloth laying across his knee. "There. Done. You're a tad shorter then when we met." |
Quinn grinned. "You remember that?" |
"Call me sentimental. Dunk." |
Quinn pulled themself under, sloshing water over the sides, imagining the cluck of Astarion's tongue. When they rose up, their curling fringe plastered to their face, they stood from the water. They could feel Astarion glancing over them: at the myriad of scars, the sex between their legs, the dots of freckles to be fo... |
Astarion twitched, the faintest red in his cheeks giving away his embarrassment. "Why in the Hells would you do that?" |
"Why would you cut my hair?" |
"Because otherwise I look like a nobleman that has purchased Displacer Beast as my lap cat." He eyed them cattily, as if it were obvious. "Why else?" |
"You can have a nibble." |
"Darling, don't dangle what you already intend on giving," Astarion said smoothly, standing and giving their side a pinch. "But. Fine. I will...fetch my things." |
Quinntav didn't tease him, grabbing the spare towel to dry down with and stepping out of the tub as he made to depart. As the door opened, Quinn spied a velvet pajama'd Gale, watch his mouth part from their nudity, and flashed a swipe of their forked tongue in giddy response. Astarion closed the door, but they heard so... |
Quinn covered their face, trembling with laughter. |
They had on a pair of trousers and their fresh, or freshest anyway, shirt when Astarion returned. He had with him one of the spare shirts picked up along the road at a stand, the grandmother half-orc there commenting on the sun in his cheeks while also noting that he needed more "red blood" in his bulk. Quinn would hav... |
He had been contemplative as of late. Quinn wondered if it was due to how they neared the city, but there was still the matter of the Shadowfell, Wyrm’s Crossing, and a dozen other smaller locations between. They were willing to wait and listen, though half the reason why they were so "patient" was due to a worry of ov... |
As Quinn sat where he had been, removing stray hairs from the water— Astarion had been apt in collecting what he cut as he worked, placing them in a cloth and folding it away— while Astarion stripped. It was...different, somehow, not being the one to remove his clothing for him, though despite how small the room was Qu... |
Gale had placed runes along the inside of the tub to keep it warm for their party, almost to the point of scalding, but Astarion failed to react as he slipped in. A moment shared while drinking revealed to them that he didn’t feel very much at all, though Quinn knew better at the time then to start listing things for h... |
Astarion dunked his head, sighing unnecessarily as he emerged again, dripping and unsympathetically not looking like a wet dog as he did so. Quinn asked if he brought in his hair wash, again distracting themself, and snatched it up from where Astarion had left his old clothing with their’s while the vampire sat back in... |
"Do you do this for all of your friends?" |
"I think if I offered Lae’zel she would crack a laugh for once." They sniffed the jar, humming at the mixture inside. Being a Hunter came with a necessary knowledge of how to make salves, potions, and oils: they collected flowers and herbs as the party walked, storing them in a chest that existed for that very reason, ... |
"Run dry, more like," Astarion replied, and Quinn fingered out a dollop of the mixture, scents of allspice, clove, and leather oil, a strangely familiar combination that the Hunter couldn’t put their finger on. The vampire flinched as their pinky brushed his ear. |
"Are my hands cold?" |
"No, it’s nothing." |
Quinn filed away that for later, deciding it was Astarion’s turn for focus and not just for fun, and they reached up around his temples, carding nails and fingers through his locks, away from his eyes, palming the thick curls with both hands. They made sure to cover the outer layer, and dug in deeper, massaging his sca... |
"Sweet Hells , what are you doing to me," Astarion asked roughly, a pinched expression to his face, and yet a very clear lack of pulling away making Quinn’s tail lift. It was the drag of that first swear that really did it; the last time they had heard such timber it had been in the middle of biting the inside of hi... |
Yet they had to have their cake: "Does it feel terrible?" |
"Shut up," he groaned, his head tilting back into their hands, asking for a scratch above his brow without words. His eyes were closed, meaning Quinn could smile as much as they wanted without the vampire giving him a withering glare for it: he really could be prickly when he was vulnerable. |
After running circles along his temples, they moved to the back of his neck, scratching upwards, pulling soap smoothly through his hair, giving a quick rub of the muscles in his neck, and prompting an appreciative, throaty sigh from Astarion in the process. When they finished, declaring it so, Astarion slid directly in... |
"I can help with that," they told him, taking up the pitcher beside the tub. |
"By all means..." Astarion replied, almost what one could call sleepily, looking up at them with eyes narrowed to avoid soap running through his lashes. Quinn motioned him to lean forward, and with the spade of their tail as a dam over his eyes, they began washing out the soap. They spilled it slowly, massaging out the... |
"Flower petals, graveyard ash, |
Silvered skies, the blue of your favorite sash..." |
"Back," they hummed to him, the vampire tilting his head backwards as asked, eyes blooming open while they ran water down along his crown. |
"Soft snow on the banks, Camilla eyes looking back." |
"Camilla," Astarion asked, Quinn wiping the water from his brow, but sitting back, satisfied, with their work. |
"Would you rather rubies?" |
"I would have assumed blood, to be honest." |
"I have enough time to contemplate your eyes without using that cliché." They stood up, their back creaking with the movement; if only they knew how old they were, so they could properly complain about it. "I’ll leave you to the rest," they told him, beginning to walk out. Not expecting the catch of his hand around the... |
"Are you hungry?" |
"Not everything is-," he cut himself off, releasing his impatience. "No one," he was looking at their wrist, where he held them, his thumb pressed to their vein. "No one has ever treated me with such kindness." |
"You spoil me, Astarion," they confessed, leaning down, gripping the tub to keep themself steady. "To allow me to give it. May I kiss you?" |
His brows went up at an angel, his voice curios in an almost innocent fashion as he asked in turn: "What if I said no?" |
"I would leave you and find Scratch instead." |
"Oh." His voice went flat. "How dreadful for you." Quinn snickered, not having moved. "Kiss me, then. If that is what you desire." |
Quinn softened in their teasing. "The words dripping from your mouth," they moved close, feeling his lips brush theirs, the barest inhale in his nose, the tiniest tickle of the peach hairs on his skin. "Taste of honey to me." |
Astarion pressed forward, likely to shut them up. His hand was in their hair, along the back of their head, their own gripping the rim tightly, nails scratching into the wood. It— the soft, the caress, the copper undertone— was over too soon. Quinn gave him room, the vampire leaning back, pupils wide and watching, as t... |
The night found them waking from a doze, the pinch of the cuff on their right wrist, while their left was pinned beneath their stomach. A weight on their back, a body lithe but solid, Astarion with his head between their shoulder blades, and one arm tucked partway around them. He had shown up in the middle of them layi... |
Quinn lay there, aware distinctly that it was still very early, early enough that it was pitch out, that Astarion had not moved for any reason, but they could not enjoy the feeling as there was something in the room. Someone standing hunched in a corner, watching them both with baleful, yellow eyes. |
Quinn bared their teeth, but held back a snarl: the warning clear. The goblin, his butler, smiled. |
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