text stringlengths 0 41.4k |
|---|
Astarion burst from the balcony doors and began scaling down the side, nearly throwing himself off. He was running towards them as the sunlight faded, a snarling fury ripe with terror catching in his throat. |
Catching and holding, as a flustered, but very alive Quinntav began to cheer right in front of him. "IT WORKED!" |
"EXCUSE ME!" Near to everyone whipped their heads towards him, but it was Quinn he had his sights set on. "What the fuck is going on!" |
Quinntav wanted to reach for their pocket, but it wasn’t the time. After telling Astarion what they had been doing had been their idea, the vampire had all but dragged them back inside. From the second floor they could barely see Dame Alyn and Isobel speaking down below, Astarion shooting them a nasty glance once they ... |
"You asked the fucking Aasimar to obliterate you?" Oh, fuck, he was angry. Keeping their inner walls up likely didn’t help, either, but they couldn’t let him in on the secret while it was still bursting around in their head. "Are you fucking mad! I knew you had some guilt driven death wish about the state of your sanit... |
"I had something I wanted to test; it was the only way I could confirm that it would work." |
"Wanted to-? What could possibly be so important that you would risk your very life!" |
"That’s why Shadowheart was there," they confessed, Astarion’s face flashing with renewed fury as he seemed to add yet another name to the body count. "It wouldn’t have killed me. The Dame was restraining herself." |
"Forgive me if hearing that the scion of a Goddess whom we nearly chose to kill promised to hold back on obliterating you does not invoke in me a sense of calm!" |
"Astarion, I’m," they couldn’t give specifics. Absolutely not. But they couldn’t honestly regret having tried. "I’m sorry." |
"And I’m sorry because a blanket apology such as that is hardly sufficient. You know if I had a gold piece for every time you decided to throw yourself into death for what you thought was best, I’d smelt it all down and make a pretty urn to shove you into!" |
"I’m sorry for not considering my well being beyond a few seconds of time," they started, Astarion scoffing in agreement. "I’m sorry I did not consider how it would effect you, how it continues to effect you, every time I do, do something of that caliber." He was right. Quinntav risked themself constantly. If it meant ... |
"And what do you think I would do if I lost you?" Honest pain seeped into the fine lines of his mouth, his cheeks, his eyes. "You’re not just my "blood bag", Quinn, you’re my partner. I thought what we have was meant to be built on mutual trust, on helping one another. And yet you keep making the same mistake. You don’... |
Quinn’s throat snuffed up with the use of the word "partner" but their guilt was too strong to allow any manner of joy passage through to their heart. "It is not that I don’t trust you, I only don’t want to see you hurt." |
"What about what I want? I don’t very well want to see you hurt either, or did you forget that I give a damn about you? Think for a change. Instead of acting on impulse and assuming everything is going to come out fine and dandy!" He crossed his arms over his chest, still very surly, but dropping the yell. "Now, you ei... |
Quinn flinched inwardly. They supposed they deserved that. "It’s a ring of protection. We have the enchantment down, and it seems to work, but with how high level the effects we have in mind are we can only make the repellent temporary." |
Astarion sighed quietly though his nose. "I suppose we are encountering stronger foes with each day that ticks idly by. Have you considered asking the Wizard to transcribe a glyph onto the ring?" |
"Not...yet, actually. We wanted to be sure that it worked first, I hadn’t considered that it may need consistent reapplication or something more permanent until today." Now that they had a riddle on their mind needing solving, they were able to take a step back from their emotions a bit. His comment had hurt more then ... |
"And why did you need to wear the ring? Why not stuff it into one of Lae’zel’s practice dummies and have someone launch a Fireball at it?" |
"Dame Alyn told me that it only works with a subject that holds a soul. The spell focuses on the spirit and provides a shield to that person’s being from there. Sort of like it needs an anchor, and said anchor also helps let the spell know what it is that it should be...protecting." |
"I know the curse is only recently lifted, but can’t you find some toad or something to work with?" |
"I’m struck by the delight that you, too, believe that toads have souls, and horror that you think I would consider sacrificing one in my stead." |
"A toad, Quinntav! Really!" |
"Have you met me?" |
"Unfortunately!" |
The pain again. "Alright, you can join us if you like, do some thinking-." |
"Wait. Wait," he stopped them mid ramble with a gesture. "I didn’t mean that, about having met you...every day since I’ve practically thanked my lucky stars that we had the chance to do so when we did. Everything else that has followed, well. That would require more then luck." |
"It was...No, I didn’t like it. Though I can’t imagine you liked witnessing my near death again..." They inhaled and sighed. "I’ve really fucked up, haven’t I?" |
"We both have. You, by being an idiot. And I by saying something I’ve never once thought. Truly." He offered his hands and Quinntav took them, soothed. "Now. I’m new to this. Is this the part where we kiss and find some closet to fuck in to reassert our need for one another?" |
Quinn laughed in surprise. "Ya know, I’m not so sure, myself. Let’s just do what we want. The kiss?" |
Quinn answered his reply by pressing one to his head, leading Astarion to chuckle at the unexpectedly chaste gesture. Feeling better by the moment, the Tiefling asked him: "Join us? I want to try the spell again and be certain before asking Gale." |
Astarion kept one of his hands, giving a nod. "Gladly." |
It took some time, but they did find something Quinntav was willing to use their ring on. A fish, apparently, left in a bucket, which they planned on "giving to his Majesty, anyway." The Aasimar shot a blast into the bucket, which was utterly destroyed, and although the fish was very much dead after it was decided it w... |
Gale, of course, agreed to work on inscribing the glyph in his spare time. "It may take some time, but merely due to the fine work of the work itself. Fortunately, we have all of the materials required at hand! I say, Quinntav, this is a-," he stopped, and Astarion glanced up at his Tielfing clearing their throat. "By ... |
"I...will consider that." |
"Hells knows if we’ll ever find a day wherein something doesn’t happen so that may be possible," Astarion remarked, then to Quinn: "Shall we find a bottle of wine and top off this thrilling night?" |
"Sounds nice. Gale," Astarion frowned gently, seeing some strike of barely with held emotion in his Tieflings eyes as Quinn took the Wizard’s hands and squeezed. "I cannot begin." |
"No matter. We have the rest of our lives. And truly, if this does work out it will mean something remarkable for the world at large." |
Quinn grinned widely, their tail fluttering behind them. |
The two left shortly after that, Astarion’s curiosity rolling with confusion. "What was that? You said this was a ring of protection, albeit one that seems remarkably tailored for a very specific spell. I can’t imagine that the Dame Alyn or any others of her ilk are likely to flit about casting great strikes of pure ra... |
"Th-think about it! There are so many spells that apparently don’t have magical redundancies that could be applied in some pretty specific, if sort of creative methods. Imagine a ring of protection for the spell moonlight! Do you think it could help repress the forced transformations of lycans on the full moon?" |
"That’s...actually a very good question. From my experience a forced transformation does not require direct exposure to the moon in order for it to occur, merely the occurrence of the cycle itself. So it may simply be a matter of timing, or perhaps the direct magical influence of the moon itself..." |
"You seem to be getting along again." |
Astarion was on the balcony taking tea when Shadowheart walked out into the pale, morning light. Without invitation she took the second of two chairs there, and without asking he poured her a cup from the pot near the center. She thanked him, a flicker of surprise over her features there and settling into her eyes, but... |
"I’m to assume that everyone knows by now," he asked in rhetorical, gaze returning down below. Quinntav was aiding Karlach in packing up the small wagon and horse that had been gifted to them. Hells knew how long the beast would last, but their bag of holding was already bursting at the seams, and that was before they ... |
"If you mean the argument, yes," Shadowheart confirmed, replying at her own pace as she sipped at her cup. "If you mean the context, more or less. Only that Quinn did something that nearly ended in their mutilation, yet again, and you had something to say about it." |
"I only wish I understood why they keep insisting on risking their life the way they do. Never in my life have I met a more selfless person, and it comes wrapped up in a package evidently hellbent on killing those most dear to them." |
"Killing a few strangers, and someone most dear to them, you mean," Shadowheart corrected. "Alfira, Isobel, and you, Astarion. They may have an occasional violent inclination towards all of us but from what it sounds like only a few have had actual targets written on their backs." |
"You have a point. It's as if they're being directed. Quinntav did mention once that it was the butler that told them to kill me." |
Her brows went up. "Has it happened again, since? I was only remarking on the manner in which they seemed to target you during the fight in the Underdark." |
Damnation. "And who gave you that inclination?" |
"Wyll. Lae'zel. Their attacks on the two of them and Gale were apparently reactions, to get them out of the way. You were the only one they "attacked head on with purpose". But those are Wyll's words, not mine." |
"All the same, if this isn't actually random killing they have in mind, but something orchestrated, then strings are being pulled. And I have a mind that this butler is merely a intermediary." His deep thinking was somewhat ruined by the sight of Quinntav inexplicably doing a handstand on the edge of the cart, Karlach ... |
Quinntav’s attention flickered upward, to the balcony, and they gave a waggle of their legs, before righting themself onto their feet in a graceful, backward arch of their spine. |
"Your courtship ritual is a strange one." |
Astarion whipped his attention to Shadowheart. "And your hair looks like spilled milk." |
"Pardon me, kettle ." She was smiling. Down below Quinntav had begun to juggle their swords, tracing a path along the edge of the cart; Astarion decided he didn’t very well give a damn what she had to say and watched. He had seen enough acrobatics to know that they were good; it was the mention of an aerial silk dan... |
"Everything looks good on me. You need to be specific, dear." |
He bit back a retort, drowning it in his cup. |
"I know little of it myself," she continued despite his silence, playing with her own porcelain listlessly. "But I see it sometimes. When Isobel looks to Dame Alyn. You have the same expression." |
He huffed. "Do I?" |
"You were barely an adult when you were turned, correct?" |
"I don’t see how that’s any of your concern." |
"Two hundred years, and you still look the same. Cross out the centuries, and I’m older then you by six, you know?" He tried not to consider it. If he had barely been an adult, then it was possible his name, Astarion, was still the one used for his youth, not the one intended for when he became a man. Little Star. It f... |
"What are you getting at?" |
"Only what she said. "It’s written in his face, the love the vampire carries. Forever young, never withering. I know this love"." |
"She’s speaking of herself, I’m guessing." |
"Of Isobel. She sees it every day, how could she not? Isobel has been reborn. She will never age, but neither will her love for Dame Alyn tire." |
"To be likened to a holy woman. That’s new. Tell me, Shadowheart, did you decide you would begin handing out tidbits of wisdom before or after the dye job?" |
"Before, though I’m afraid that in your words it may seem "rather gauche" now." |
"Your mouth, not mine," he polished off his tea. "It looks lovely, darling. Allows the blush in your cheeks to really pop, however little there is to be had there." |
"Thank you, grandfather. I will be sure to remember that when choosing my gown for the day." |
"White silk, with accents of gold, I should think. If your high and mighty attitude is leaning towards the holy rather then the profane, then you may as well embrace it in full." |
"Amuse me, Astarion. What would you dress Quinntav in, hm? Say...for a wedding?" |
"Their’s or another’s?" |
"Does it matter?" |
"Of course, one does not outshine the bride, my dear. Though with their personality it would be difficult." |
Shadowheart rolled her eyes thickly. "Their’s." |
"Well, that’s simple, I would..." They were wonderful in deep blues, maroons, with sparks of gold here and there. Ah, but a burgundy suit with split sleeves, and a black under shirt...Shadowheart chuckled, but whatever it was she found so amusing would have to wait. He was busy, deep in contemplation... |
There were times that he would forget. |
They all would. Sometimes a stray joke would slip through, one darker then average. Sometimes Astarion would find them covered in gore after the battle but...who didn’t occasionally lose themself in the thrill of the hunt? Honestly...unless Quinn was cuffing themself for the night, Astarion didn’t often think of it. Th... |
As if he hadn’t witnessed Quinntav impale themself to stop from killing him. As if they hadn’t curled into a corner for an entire night, trembling with the desire to try again. As if they had not sighed with relief when they told the cleric Isobel that they had been told to kill her, and her knight Ayln promised to cut... |
Then Astarion was taken and, well. He couldn’t very well lie and say he felt bad about how that had ended up. |
He awoke with a splitting pain in his skull. His face pressed to the earth, dirt on his tongue, blood in his nose. He tasted what was on his lip, finding it dried by at least a half hour, and listened to the thrumming of voices nearby. The fear dancing along their vocal cords. |
"Did you hear him screaming?" Aurelia. |
"They bound him. And I thought our family was unique." Leon. |
Fellow spawns of Cazador. Of course. If there was anything that could wheedle it’s way into their camp grounds at night and bludgeon him into unconsciousness, it would be one of them. Astarion had only stepped away for a while, just after Quinntav’s glyphs had been set and they had cuffed themself in for the night. |
Screaming. Bound. They were talking about Quinn. |
Astarion remained still, though his eyes flickered around the scenery for reference. They were still in the forest, the moon still high, and he was bound by his wrists. No ordinary binding, either, as the metal sticking to his flesh sizzled and popped: warded. A clever precaution, if one that fucking hurt. |
The spawn were behind him, when he scented the air he could pick up on Leon’s failed attempt at covering his odor with cheap perfume, and Aurelia’s lack of giving a damn. Out of all the people who could have taken him, these idiots had shown up. |
But there was no stopping the rising fear in his throat: he had grown complacent. He should have known it was only a matter of time. He used to! |
"I doubt any of them can find us," Aurelia clicked her tongue. "We left no tracks, it’s been miles now. He’s as good as dead to them." |
"Then let’s return to the cave and bed down. The sooner we return, the sooner we can get what we’ve been promised by our lord." |
The knew. They knew something, at least. Pathetic fools, apparently they hadn’t learned anything. Was Aurelia’s fifty years not enough? Leon’s one hundred and three? How many more lashings did it require? How many more crawling to his bed chamber at night, pressed to the floor-. |
"Wait. Listen. What-." |
Something burst from the shadows. A blur of physical mass, leaping over Astarion in a bound. Astarion froze, but he heard plenty. Aurelia’s scream of terror, Leon’s jerk of her name— "GET OFF HER!"— his cry as he was hit or flung away. |
Aurelia began babbling— "No, no, nononono, let- |
"That answers that question." |
"Don’t," Leon’s voice was a plea, continuous, nearly unintelligible. Astarion heard the scraping of dirt, an attempt to get away. "Don’t come closer!" |
"But the fun we’ll have." |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.