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Sometimes he lit a candle and read. Sometimes he found Quinn’s notes on distillations and concoctions and what have you and studied them. Their handwriting. The small drawings in the margins. |
Sometimes he began his night in his own tent. Drifted to their’s. And climbed into their cot with them. Quinn would wrap an arm around him, their tail curling around a leg or Astarion’s waist, and all with the barest of muttering in their throat before sighing into slumber again. If their tail was still, Astarion knew ... |
Either way, from chair or embrace, the vampire could sweep his gaze over what of them he could see and...attempt to think, for a moment. It was happening more frequently with each night. Since Quinn had tried to kill him, one would think Astarion would begin to keep his distance. |
What could he possibly offer them? |
Just the other day Quinn had been napping with Karlach, curved around her like a lizard on a rock. She had warmth, excitement, exuberance for life. |
That same evening Quinntav and Lae’zel had engaged in a competition involving squatting in place, seeing who could hold a blade steady for longest, while they chattered about the inner workings of Githyanki culture. Lae’zel was eager, wide eyed for the world around her, listening intently to whatever Quinn had to say a... |
With Wyll, and Shadowheart, Quinn could speak of teas and coffees for days, describing flavors, nattering about some novel or another. They were as much a book club as they were a group of old wives. And yet they also had conviction, a driving force in each of their hearts eager to see their journey meet it’s end. |
Gale. Gale the Wizard in his tower. Gale and his many travels, his many unsolved mysteries, his beloved magic and wonder lust to discover more. He turned Quinntav into a wide eyed child; one of their first nights had been spent with Gale teaching them some new gesture to conjure bobbles of light into the air, and Quinn... |
And if anything Halsin...Halsin was safe. He was no corrupted creature. He was no being a history of torment, of using and being used. He was a hearth fire given physical form, capable of lifting Quinn clear off their feet without breaking a sweat, and, as clear as anyone could tell, desiring it more so with each day. |
Astarion was old. He was tired. When they were free of the tadpoles he would go back to his dark, Cazador dead or no, to return to his stalking, skulking existence. Who would he be to drag Quinntav after him? To offer a place at his side? To think for a moment it would be right to condemn them in that way? |
Astarion dropped his book onto their bed, Quinntav’s eyes flickering up, and he held them: "We need to talk." |
Their novel joined his, tossed aside without thought. "What’s on your mind, dove?" They laced their fingers together, sitting up out of their nest of comfort, giving him their complete attention. |
"Too much. Everything." |
Their natural smile faded into a frown. "Is something wrong?" |
Astarion was stuttering; he had spent too long thinking about this, why was he stuttering? "I feel horrible. Have you seen yourself? Seen us? Here we are in this cozy little tent, reeking of domesticity, and I’m." He tried to find the word, glancing away from Quinntav in attempt to not be caught up in how intently they... |
In their continued silence, he barreled forward: "I’ve never had this. Not in a very long time, at least. Every day was spent arguing with the other spawn, my kin. Every day meant waiting to see if Cazador would call on one of us personally, and every moment between hunting the living like searching for mice in the wal... |
Their red eyes widened a touch. Still, they did not speak. Did not interrupt. |
"You are...astounding, Quinntav. I will not deny that you carry in you your own darkness, you are no stranger to the more sordid sides of the world. And yet you remain this glowing sphere of radiant joy. Of...impossibility. |
"It would have been easier...had I not begun to care. But I think it was impossible for me not to. Not with who you are. But anything I can offer to give you feels tainted, somehow. Awful in some way, every time, no matter what...gesture or word it is...No matter what I want." |
"...but you want it." |
Astarion winced inwardly, slowly. "Yes." |
"Then we continue. We do as we have and are. And if there reaches a point where...wanting it is not enough for you, or you decide otherwise that you do at all. We stop." |
"Stop. That simply?" |
Something flickered over Quinntav’s expression. Pain followed by apology. "No more nights in our tents. No more sex. No intimacy. It-it does not need to be so complete, we can step back in layers. But if you ever do not want it, any of it. It ends." |
"And what you want?" |
"I cannot change how my heart feels, Astarion. But I will not hold you captive within it." |
How their heart feels. How was it exactly? What roiled and hungered in that core of their’s? What had they held back from sharing? From asking for? How could he possibly hope to meet them there, on equal footing? |
"I...like this. The conversation, but also. This," he gestured around. To the night. To the two of them. "Th-the sex. I may ask to...wait again for it. Not that I do not keenly desire it, you are a wonderful lover, but it is too close to what I know. Everything else, it is too new. Too unlike what was required to survi... |
"We can do that. Abstinence from sex. Is there anything else physical you would like to pause on?" |
"No. No, I fear, dear, that if I cease in any of the remainder and yet must bare witness to everyone else in the camp gifting kisses to you whenever they so desire I will toss one of them off a cliff in a fit of jealousy." He cleared his throat. He meant it as a jest, and was disturbed by how true his passion was in th... |
Quinntav was covering their mouth. |
"I can see what you are hiding, fool." |
"Is this about Karlach kissing me out of the blue after I pretended to go into a rage?" |
"Try being stuck in the middle of contemplating your feelings only to witness some mindless barbarian with better people skills then you confess her love to the source of your agony in the middle of a battle field!" |
"I adore you, Astarion." |
He sniffed. Of course this is where the conversation went. He expected to be embarrassed but they were smiling at him as Astarion had the sun during his first time day walking in two centuries. |
"Well. At least you are not for lack of taste." He was lying. Couldn’t they see how much of an idiot they were being? Astarion wanted to touch them. To feel them. But there were currently two feet of carpet between them both, he couldn’t simply touch their hand or lean into their shoulder. |
The vampire stood, crossed to them, and knelt. He touched a knee, all venom and heat gone from him, and Quinntav parted their legs for him, somehow understanding. They offered their arms, and he took the embrace, turning into their chest, finding his ear over their heart as they were once again cradled in their place o... |
They moved an arm, holding him close. Giving support as well as comfort. "Is this okay?" |
He wasn’t sure. "Don’t stop." |
Their other arm went up, joining the other, and Astarion closed his eyes at the press of their mouth to his head. |
Outside the wind rattled at the many limbs of the trees above their heads, leaves falling in slivers of red as Astarion listened to the beating beneath their skin and felt for awhile as if he were alive again. |
"Only a few; just in case?" |
"If any should take me I doubt they would allow me free reign to drink them." |
"But if someone were to take me, or if I were to die," Quinn still held the vials in their hand, brimming with enchanted blood. "Please, Astarion. If anything they could be useful in battle, in a pinch." |
"Fine." They had been warm in his palm. It was by far the cleverest manner anyone had ever used the spell Gentle Repose, though they only had so many scrolls to reapply the spell, and Astarion was sure no ordinary Cleric would agree to help. "Only because you worry too much." |
"Until this is done, I will continue to, I'm afraid," Quinn had replied, "likely after as well. Thank you, dove," and they asked with a look, before kissing the corner of his eye in the way they favored. In a way Astarion secretly approved of. |
Three days later, rains flooded the roads, seeping through cracks in the mountain sides beyond the temple of Lathander and causing them to crumble. They had seen the temple in the foreground and plunged in it’s direction to flee the deluge; they had not expected the beasts of bone in the pass to cut them off. |
Astarion had perched among the half buried columns sprouting from the rock, taking pot shots at the ghouls the skeletal necromancers there kept raising each time they were felled. He was paying less attention then he would admit, spitting mad about the hair that kept sweeping into his eyes, unable to get off a decent s... |
From there it was a matter of not slipping onto his ass from the rain, joining the others back on the mud soaked ground, barely able to hear any of their shouting through the hurricane crashing down on their heads. He counted: Lae’zel beheading the final ghoul, Shadowheart sweeping a hand over a clawed Wyll, Gale dumpi... |
She shouted something at him, approaching, but he shook his head, forced to draw close enough until it felt like a sauna being so near the barbarian. "WHERE’S Q?" |
"They were with you!" He had seen them, the Tieflings enticing the necromancers to near the cliffs-. |
His eyes shot to the broken pass, whipping back when Karlach grabbed his shoulder to keep him running there. |
"IT’S UNSTABLE!" |
"QUINNTAV WAS WITH YOU!" |
Shock snapped her attention sideways, Astarion took the chance to break free, running for the edge— startling back when the ground beneath him shuddered as he drew near. "GALE!" |
A sharp cry, he braced himself when the gust of wind hit from behind, blinking through he storm as a great brown eagle took to the sky, flinging himself over the cliff. The others neared, wincing as lightening cracked the sky. |
Shadowheart cried out: "HE’LL BE STRUCK IF HE KEEPS FLYING!" |
LEAVING THEM DOWN THERE!" |
Another bolt. Astarion yelled in frustration as Gale swerved, then turned back, arching widely back around. He made to find a path down, cursing when Karlach grabbed him and tossed the vampire over her shoulder. "WE HAVE TO GO!" |
"LET ME GO, YOU BITCH-!" |
Astarion woke on the first to the news that Karlach and Halsin had gone searching that night, but only after they all made it to the temple. All but Quinn. The Tiefling and the Druid were forced to return as the lower levels began to flood, Astarion making use of the library by tossing around holy relics until his ches... |
The second night worsened. The others started a fire in the room below, light dancing along the windows and turning shadows into horned creatures that loomed like wraiths over head. Astarion clutched the tiny bag of their hair he had hidden in a glove weeks before, and cursed himself for not learning how to track them ... |
The third night the rains lessened, but the flood remained, rivers of rock infested, muddy water rushing down from the mountains and crashing as tidal waves into ravines of half buried temple remains. He was starving, with three vials in his pack. They would be good for four more days. He didn’t want them. |
The fourth day, he snapped at Wyll as the Blade dared to mount the floor to the top wing to speak to apparently speak to him. |
"I’m fine," he bit back, peering back out the broken shards of the stained window before him, distinctly aware of how close the Blade was, and how he could see the barest hints of his reflection in the mirroring pieces that remained. "I’m standing here. Away from the storm." |
"Four days," Wyll muttered, peering beyond him. "If anyone can survive the wilds it would be Quinn. They’ve survived goblin hoards, bands of undead, even their own darkness— a storm will not be their undoing. Astarion. You must feed." |
"What do you know of vampiric hunger, Ravenguard," Astarion asked lowly, looking out over the graying landscape, the distant horizon unforgivably serene beyond their show case of hell. "It’s barely been your concern before." |
"Astarion, do you listen to yourself? Quinntav is not the only one who worries for you. I know you have years more knowledge then any of us on the matter, but it will not save them knowing you are not seeking proper sustenance." |
"What do you know what they think? What do you know what they mourn for in the dark? What frightens them? What causes them to tremble in their sleep? They are alone Wyll," he turned on the Blade, "and you all seem to |
that the last time they were lost from us they nearly tore themself apart." |
"The halls are dark and deep and narrow. |
Wherein does the lark keep the seed from the sparrow? |
In shadows creep, the silence is keeping me awake, |
Tell me, love, you will not sigh for my sake." |
Quinntav sighed, biting a corner of their lip, tasting stale copper from the last time they had cut through the skin there. All of the halls looked the same, and with each turn that dipped down they had to remind themself that sometimes an descent meant an assured ascent. Tried, as their torchlight caught a pool of wat... |
Quinn had woken two days before in a cave below the cliffs from where they had fallen, a dull memory of climbing high enough to reach the ledge that protruded from it welcoming them, as well as the lapping of rising water against their feet. Alas the cave was an entry way into a series of tombs, it seemed, and they wen... |
They were not short on water, at least. They had makeshift pills in bee’s wax slathered packaging that they used to purify what they found, and rolled loaves of dried jerky for such occasions in their pack. They had one of their swords, just one, the other wiggling beneath rock somewhere every time they tried to call u... |
All they had to worry about, truly, was if they would have to out wait the flooding to leave. And how the others were faring. By day four they were counting and recounting in their head how much blood they had given to Astarion, how long it had before it spoiled, and whether that would matter as long as someone was aro... |
"He’s gotten along without me for this long..." their words echoed around them, across painted tile soaked in soaked moss, and dancing through thick cobwebs that clung to the corners like gristle between their teeth. Yet the worry remained. |
They opened their mouth to sing again, anything to keep their mind from straying, and shut it, wondering if Astarion would want them singing mournful ballads about him in the dark. |
"Maybe he will welcome the reprieve," they thought out loud, wondering when it was the last time they had slept apart. Six days before? Sometimes Astarion had periods when physical touch burned like hot iron, and he needed to keep his distance from them all. Quinn never begrudged him of it, they could not begin to unde... |
Astarion was remarkably patient each time. Amused, even. |
No, Quinn would never understand, but they wanted to try. To keep trying. Jester or partner. Friend or lover. Spouse or stranger. No, never stranger. Never again could that be possible. |
"I would chase all the fears from your eyes, |
You would sweep my tears away with pretty lies, |
But if you would take my heart in yours, |
Then we can try, let us try." |
"Let us try again to learn the lines, |
In this cold world, I have learned blind..." |
"Astarion?" The vampire heard the Cleric, heard her step onto the cracked glass of thrown vials and mutter about blood beneath her boots. "You finally drank. Good." |
He said nothing, still sitting in the alcove with it’s iron doors, the lock smashed in his previous rage and it’s holy book crumbled on the stones beneath. |
"Halsin shifted into a mouse, he says he can navigate the smaller burrows downward to look for them in the lower levels," she continued to speak, undeterred by his silence. "Look, it’s been a week, now. The rain has stopped for the most part, and, yes, it’s impossible to use the road back, but there is still the pass t... |
"You want to leave." |
She stared back. The Cleric had let her hair down. Her armor was set aside, something unlike her, and smudges of kohl lined her eyes. Not only kohl, but sleeplessness. "If Quinn cannot reach the temple, they may have gone for the forest-." |
"You want to leave them. To go along with your quest for absolution-." |
"Don’t start. You’re hungry, you miss them, but lashing out helps nothing-." |
"Go." He turned back to stare at the wall. |
"You’ve been reaching out, too, haven’t you?" |
He had been. Feeling for them with his Tadpole. Trying to find some blush of his Hunter’s mind. Sometimes he thought he caught a sliver, but then they shut him out so quickly it was like a slap to his face. |
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