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The dark where the Hunter hummed, teeth chattering, and the two spoke in rambling sentences. They spoke of the story Quinn had nearly finished— "If I do not see Frey alive I will maim the first god of Death we encounter"—, of sonnets befitting churches over brothels— "If it is not self riotous and churning with guilt, ... |
"Don’t die here." |
"Don’t ever do this again." |
"Return to the others." |
"We’ve had this argument." |
"You will not die with me here." |
"We will not die." |
"Astarion, the sun-." |
"I have been without for years enough. Do not insult me." |
"You should be there." |
"I will die two thousand years from now, curled in my bed, with a glass of wine in my hand, and a song in my ear, or I will not die at all." |
They laughed, squeezing his hand. |
The topic turned to the future. |
"A house by the sea." |
"Darling, how you are not sick of water by now, I cannot understand." |
"With thick drapes and a thousand hanging plants and a million books and ten billion pillows to fall upon." |
"You will yet master the use of a fainting couch. I will teach you how to drape yourself like fine silk across every stretch of furniture we own." |
"We" is nice. "We" is wonderful." They did not snicker over their clumsy wording. They meant it, and Astarion found that he agreed. We. Us. Our’s. Together. Their minds joined, bathing in sunlight, Quinn’s ability to feel that warmth spreading across his skin from foot to hairline, and he kissed them with a passion tha... |
"I’m sorry," he kissed their lips clean, his venom sealing the wounds, his worry heightening over the exhaustion in their response: "I-it’s fine." |
Shivers wracked their body so completely Astarion could only hold them in response to keep them from shattering. |
He was there when the fever broke. When their shuddering turned to deep, sniffling inhales, exhales, inhales, when Shadowheart returned to place and hand on their brow and declare them well. |
"You don’t need to say anything. Their survival makes us even for your earlier attitude." |
She left them then, but others happened by. Halsin with a water and cloth, so the vampire could wash Quinn’s brow. Lae’zel with incense, pungent and sharp. Wyll with a kiss on the hand, Gale with three more pillows, Karlach pinching out their tail from beneath them. |
"Get’s sweaty, stuck like that." |
"Oh, you were fucking awful!" Her grin was tired, relieved, the same as every one before. "But someone you loved was lost and you panicked. Lashed out. It happens to the best of us." |
"Yet here we are." She leaned down and brushed a curl from their ear. It was long again, meaning they would begin to fidget at the curls tickling the lobes. "And here they are, too. Quinn’s lucky they have someone able to dredge down into the deep to find them. It couldn’t have been easy, back or forth." |
He couldn’t decide, really. Returning, he had Quinn, but then he had the fear that the water would kill them, or some rock fall would crush them, or somehow they would simply lose each other, and that would be that. In searching for them to begin with he had only been so angry because he feared what would happen otherw... |
"Keep scowling like that and it’ll stick." |
"The moment they wake I’m never speaking to them again." |
"HA! Good luck!" |
Astarion scowled at her retreating back, then caught himself, flattening his features and settling in again. By all accounts he could leave. |
Some time later they turned over and opened their eyes. Their arm was outstretched towards him, folded under their chin, and Astarion watched them making a grabbing motion, the yearning desire from their open connection bubbling forth. He did them one better, tucking his hand into their palm, Quinn’s tired gaze moving ... |
The...sheer weight of relief from the touch had been astounding. The joy that followed, that filled their eyes with stinging tears, would have stolen his breath if he had drawn one. |
"I’m still angry." |
The haze of their acceptance of this— sweet, amused, ever relieved— threatened to break him. And he could have lost this. |
Discarding propriety to the wind— if Karlach wanted her tent she could take it back by force— Astarion flipped back their thin blanket and crawled in beside them. Quinn immediately burrowed into his chest, wrapping around all they could with what strength they could muster. Within minutes they were asleep, Astarion fel... |
"Hey, Dilly Dilly", said the cat to the filly, |
As the cow jumped over the moon! |
"Wouldn’t it be silly, oh an itty bitty," |
If he did that ridin’ a spoon?" |
Quinntav was having a gods damn time! It had only taken two days of sickness, and four days of travel through a smoke infested hellscape, and at last they had arrived at some bastion of beguiling promise: The Last Light Inn. Snuggled into the bosom of the Shadowfell itself, the inn and it’s near grounds were protected ... |
On the second with their feet finally steady beneath them, Karlach may have let it slip that they carried a song and an instrument of their own, and thus their playing began. Near to everyone within that could let down their post surrounded the bar where they danced and sang, tankards raised, voice raised still yet hig... |
"Oh! Well I knew a fine lass |
(who had a fine ass) |
That she rode all across |
"Ere moun-tain! |
But if I made a pass, |
Shame we would never last, |
As long as a Dwarven ore vein-!" |
A Dwarven warrior of the Harpers yelled loudest, Quinn sending a wink in his direction, laughter erupting from his companions nearest within the audience. There was of course no missing the faces of their friends: Karlach and Lae’zel downing shots at one corner of the bar, Gale with chess concentration unbroken as he p... |
"Hey, Dilly Dilly", said the cat to the filly, |
As the cow lowed up at the moon! |
"Wouldn’t it be silly, oh an itty bitty, |
If he did that takin’ a spoon?" |
Well them trees do sway, |
And the Clerics do pray, |
"Sweet Selûne guide my way", |
But I know a path, |
I could walk at half-mast |
Where holier then thou |
Lae’zel gave a roar with her last shot, standing up and bellowing, tilting clean over after with a chortling Karlach cracking the bar counter as she gave it a punch in her laughter. Wyll spilled his drink on his partner and apologized with a dozen bows, the stranger miming him in turn. Gale covered his face in shame as... |
" Hey, Dilly dilly", said the cat to the filly, |
As the cow jumped over the moon! |
"Wouldn’t it be silly, oh an itty bitty, |
If he did that ridin’ a spoon?" |
"But ey, sweet kitty, |
Let’s sing a little ditty, |
And dance this night away! |
Hey, oh, sweet little kitty, |
Let’s sing a little ditty, |
And dance the night away! " |
The final line shot through the rafters, a cheer of riotous applause followed. Quinn stood there, struck with their arms spread, their violin in one hand, and bow in the other. Their chest heaving with excitement. And yet they only had eyes for their vampire. And the burn remained, leaving a hunger in their stomach the... |
The crowd downed out their epiphany, but did not smother it. |
Two hundred years. A thousand plus sexual encounters. Only a scant few moments of genuine pleasure. And every last experience one rotted by the truth. Yet things had changed. Astarion had met a partner who not only desired to lay with him, and only for the sake of his own enjoyment. His own carnal and emotional happine... |
He never stopped wanting them, neither in body or soul. Whether when they bathed in the cold rivers of the haunted waters of the Shadowfell, or when they slept beside him, drooling into their pillow and making small noises in their sleep. Sex with Quinntav was not a means to an end, but done for the sheer sake of it. A... |
Someday again he would have them. Would see the remarkable sparks of pleasure in their gaze at having pleasured him, feel their fingers card through his hair after tracing path ways of promised comfort, and hear their heart sing with all but what he had the steel will to confess. |
He loved what they had. |
He had become free in the freest sense that he could: loving and being loved in return, and no one, not even Cazador Szaar, could take away that truth. |
Astarion was done watching from afar. He drowned his glass and set out to find them in the maddening crowd. Quinn had jumped from their stage, hands and arms and words reaching out to touch them in every which way any could manage. Astarion would find them and feel the brush of their hand against his, watch the sway of... |
Little by little his instincts were beginning to learn that Quinntav would never purposely hurt him with their affections, and more so with each day Astarion was realizing how long they would be willing to wait for him. But how long did a vampire have to live compared to a Tiefling? Would there ever be time enough? |
He had wasted enough since Balder's Gate. |
Impatient to begin again, Astarion was frustrated to find that Quinn had vanished from the lower floor. He went so far as to smell the air for any tell-tale sign of drawn blood— they never seemed to go a day without piercing their skin— but came up with nothing save for what lingered on the back of his own throat. It w... |
"Looking for the Hunter," Mol asked herself, the one eyed child too perceptive by half, but there were reasons why the Devil Raphael took the time to stake a claim in her future. "I saw them go top side with His Majesty." |
"My thanks," Astarion tipped his chin, the girl doing the same, and thus they were even. |
He took a hall and followed the flight of stairs back up— they must of taken a different route then he had, though it would have meant going out of the way to do so. Astarion hummed at that, considering. Quinn liked to scare the occasional companion, though they tended to avoid the more skittish of the lot. Astarion wa... |
He found His Majesty on his cushion, purring and looking plump, a bowl beside his bed. He looked up with some contempt with Astarion entry, and the vampire apologized with another tilt of his head. "I hear word that you were recently in audience with my companion." |
"The Predator," the purr in his very voice was remarkably different then angry greeting he, Quinn, and Shadowheart had been given upon first stumbling on the hairless feline. Since then he’d likely gained three pounds from Quinntav’s constant offerings of warm cream, and freshly caught fish. Really, the cat was swifly ... |
Because beneath the fucking basement was an alter to Selune, the rooms around it infested with creatures they had routed out on their first day. Why in the Hells would they go there? |
"I am no beast of burden to carry missives hither and fro detailing the personal lives of those pathetic few that meander around me, spawn. Leave me be." |
Blasted creature. |
For the second time in ten minutes Astarion descended the staircase, weaving his way through the crowd to the back patio. It was remarkably more quiet outside, though the Harpers still meandered about, keeping the perimeter as it were. There wasn’t an ounce of privacy to be found, unless one was willing to walk to the ... |
He had to walk through the boat house to find the door that led beneath the basement, and he passed cells, glancing around but seeing no trace of his Tiefling in sight. |
What am I doing? |
If they had wandered off without saying anything directly, perhaps they needed the time alone. But they had told the cat of all people, on the off chance that someone would possibly ask. |
"How is it that I seem to forget that they hail from a circus..." |
The once-hidden wall that led to the secret tunnels were lit with an errant torch or so, the knowledge that it was only a matter of time before the children went down for a peek on anyone’s mind whom had intellect to remark on. He spotted the twisting roots of the great tree crossing over the water way, and listened...... |
At least the corpses of the winged monsters had been removed, burned outside rather then risking a toss in the water itself. |
He had gotten that far, so he continued, walking under the roots, finding the open doorway that led to the hideaway of the long since fled clerics. Within, a statue of Selûne over looked a clothed altar, a wooden platform framed with a short fence containing a wide stretch of blue carpet, a dozen once locked boxes of g... |
They wore only their trousers and undershirt, striking a brilliant figure in the light. As he watched, they tossed the hide of the fruit over the fence, carved out a wedge with practiced fingers, and seemed to drop a slice on the altar itself. |
"Praise be the Lady of Silver," their voice echoed around and pricked his ears, less pious then sarcastic. "May the Gods purge me of my mortal hungers." |
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