mickume/dnd_drow · Datasets at Hugging Face

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Tav burst out laughing at the comment. Astarion couldn’t manage much more than a disgusted ugh , as he switched positions to roll over onto his stomach.
"The next time you need a lock so desperately picked, you will do it yourselves." He called out, before pressing his face into the grass.
"You know, Philios probably would be less distracted if you would like to be a member of the group!" Tav shouted back. Astarion was ignoring them.
Astarion was allowed a moment of peace again, the heat felt nice on his back, before he heard movement to the side of him. He turned his head enough that one eye was poking out, there was a pink mark on his cheek from where the grass had been pressing into him. Tav had decided to take a seat next to his prone form. I’m sorry, he didn’t recall inviting anyone over here.
"Heya." Tav said, grinning as they saw him turn around.
"I’m busy here."
"Oh, yes, you do look quite busy. So, incredibly busy."
Astarion huffed, rolling his face into the grass again. He folded his arms up around his head to try to block them out. "You told us to rest, I’m resting."
"I meant what I said about distracting Philios, you know."
"I don’t control him." Barring the fact, yes, he kind of did. "And it’s none of my business what Gale decides to pick up to pass the time."
Tav sighed, folding their legs and picking their lyre up again. They went back to plucking that slow, simple song on it. Astarion also did not recall asking for music. How was one supposed to nap in these conditions??
"Suppose it isn’t. But you know how Philios likes you." Tav hummed along to the song they were playing, "It’d be nice of you to be supportive of him. Learning a new language is hard."
"I am being supportive of him." Astarion said, "From a distance, over here."
Tav shook their head, but blissfully dropped the matter. Astarion very much appreciated the return to silence, and felt himself dozing off again. Not quite asleep, but drifting somewhere in that hazy inbetween. Which is why he was very cranky when he felt yet another, much heavier, weight sit down in the grass next to him.
"All finished with your lessons?" Tav’s voice said from above him, in an overtly sweet tone.
The voice that responded to them caught Astarion a little off guard at first. "Mm...Kooh oshk in."
That was definitely Philios’s vocal pattern, but it sounded so - different. And not just because he was speaking in what sounded like, to Astarion, complete gibberish.
"For you, I’d imagine so!" Tav replied, having had put their lyre down to focus on their conversation partner. "There’s a lot of nuances to it, probably a lot more than you’re used to. But you’ll get the hang of it, I’m sure! It’s very nice of Gale to try and help."
"Thah oshk, in eern na." Philios chuffed. His words were slow, rhythmic, and monotone. He spoke in short, one syllable sounds, with no inflection and no emotion. Each word came out like the repetitive beating of a drum. "Ka, tah ohleh. Oohd errn."
Astarion was racking his brain for what other languages he’d heard spoken before, and kept coming up blank for a match.
"Well, he could stand to be a little bit more concise-"
Why did Tav have to be the one that understood whatever it was Philios was saying? Why did they get to be the special little meow meow?
"Can this happen anywhere else?" Astarion piped up before the conversation could go on any further. "You’re blocking my sun."
"Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t realize you owned this hill." Tav looked down at Astarion again. "I didn’t see your name on it anywhere."
"I was here first." Astarion propped his chin up on his arm. The grass was starting to bother his nose too much. "Therefore, it is mine. Finder’s keepers, so it goes. I thought you followed that rule quite dutifully. Remind me why you brought me along today~?"
Tav’s tail twitched in the grass, and they looked about ready to say something snippy.
Philios hummed again, "Ool myhk errn, tou lahr ahm."
Whatever it was Philios had just said, it broke Tav’s concentration enough to make them laugh. Astarion frowned.
"Well, now it just feels like you’re talking about me behind my back."
"Not everything has to be about you, you know." Tav leaned forward, bracing their hands against the ground, "What, are you paranoid or something? Scared there’s bad things to be said about you?"
Oh, plenty. It wasn’t like he had much interest in being chummy with his fellow worm-havers. And he had many, many bad things to say about just about every single one of them. Surely the feeling was mutual. He’d expected it to be.
"Not at all. However, if you’re going to exclude me from the chat. The least you could do is go have it on the other side of the hill."
Tav rolled their eyes. "Oh, you big baby. Trust me, my dragonspeak is wayyy too rusty to even try to say anything nasty about you in earshot. I think Philios would just make fun of me."
Astarion was about to argue something else to that. About how it didn’t matter what they were talking about, it was still bothering him. They could be talking about sunshines and rainbows and it would still be obnoxious. But, before he could fully form that retort - he paused, one of the words Tav had said had just fully processed.
He pushed himself up to rest on his elbows. " Dragonspeak ? Is that what you said?"
"Yes? That’s what Philios speaks." Tav raised a brow. "Why are you acting so confused about it?"
Gale had come to join them as well, having finished putting away his lesson materials in that ridiculously giant hiking bag Tav insisted on lugging around. (Astarion thought it was a hindrance, but at least he didn’t have to carry it. Though in a rare slice of sympathy, he did feel bad for Philios’s poor back.
Wonderful, make it a scene, why don’t you?
"What are we talking about over here?" Gale grunted like an arthritic old man as he sat down in the grass with the others. "Ah- Dragonspeak! I think I heard that mentioned. It’s an interesting language, very to the point. A rather archaic form of draconic, though, I was surprised to learn it’s still used in some parts of the world."
"Gale. Shut." Astarion snipped. He pointed to Philios, his gaze on Tav. "Why does he speak dragon."
The three of them were now all staring at him. It felt like there was a joke here, and everyone but Astarion was in on it. He squirmed at the sudden onset of scrutiny, he hated being the center of attention.
" Astarion..." Tav was the one to break the silence.
"That’s my name."
"Astarion - He’s - He’s a half-dragon." They said it in a way that made it seem like this was obvious and Astarion was ridiculous for not knowing this.
"How was I supposed to know that?!" Astarion sat back, now sitting up fully from the ground. Not wanting to be laying prone while he was being verbally attacked.
"He’s covered in scales!"
"It is rather hard to miss," Of course Gale had to butt in as well. Astarion wanted to cut his tongue out. "Tall, dark, and scaly. Big horns, too."
"Wait what did you - what did you think he was?" Tav seemed the most incredulous of all of them.
"I-I don’t know! A tiefling with a skin condition? I never thought about it!"
Tav looked stunned for a split second, before their face broke into the widest grin Astarion had ever seen. Emitting a loud, full-belly laugh as they fell backwards onto the ground, arms wrapped around their chest as they cackled and wheezed.
If Astarion had the ability to, his face would’ve been cherry red. He sputtered some noises that were supposed to be words; but they had tripped somewhere along the way between thoughts and mouth.
They were laughing at him. Tav was laughing at him. How - How dare they-
Feeling humiliated, Astarion shoved himself up to his feet. Aggressively brushing blades of grass off his shirt, stiffly storming over to that, awful, ridiculous hiking pack to retrieve his knives. He didn’t want to be here anymore.
"Oh! Oh, Astarion!" Tav gasped as they tried to catch their breath, rolling over and pushing themselves up off the ground. "Astarion, no! Come back! It’s okay if you didn’t know!"
Astarion wasn’t listening, and he refused to start. His hands were shaking in barely contained rage as he flipped through the bag, trying to figure out what pocket exactly it had been. He swore under his breath, too frustrated to think straight. Why was this thing so disorganized! (He didn’t realize he had checked the same pocket three times now.)
There was a tap on his shoulder, Astarion wheeled around, making a noise somewhere around a hiss and a shrill screech. "Don’t touch me!"
Philios, who had been the one to tap, recoiled from him. His eyes saucer-wide and ears perfectly flat. He hadn’t even heard him approach, Astarion had been so wrapped up in himself. Sheepishly, Philios held out his other hand, where he was holding the two knives that Astarion had been searching for.
Immediately, he snatched them away from the dragon-man (better update his internal monologue while he was at it! Wouldn’t want to be mocked for that too, now, would we!) and shoved them into their sheathes. He missed one of them, the tip catching the fabric of his pants and tearing a hole at his hip.
" I am going back to camp. If I’m feeling generous, I might tell Shadowheart that you all are out here. I might not. Do not come looking for me."
"Oh, Astarion, come on-" Tav had caught up at this point, they were pleading to try to get him to stay. But, Astarion was hearing none of it, and he turned on his heel and started back down the path where they’d came from.
As soon as Astarion had found camp again, he made a beeline straight to his tent.
He must’ve interrupted some sort of very important glaring match between the two women who had been left at camp, as they startled like spooked cats when he stormed in.
Lae’zel took one look at him, noted the sour mood he was in, and decided not my circus, not my monkies. She picked herself up from the rock she had been leaning against, and retreated into her tent with the door rolled shut.
Shadowheart looked shocked at first, but her expression quickly morphed into a worried scowl as she saw it was ... just Astarion that was returning. She jogged to try to stall him before he went to sulk in his tent, stepping into his path and putting her arm out.
"What happened? Where are the others?"
Astarion stopped, fixing her with a cold stare. "Not on speaking terms." He said shortly, "If you’d like to ask them what they did wrong; you may find them sitting like a thicket of idiots on the side of the road. I think I left them somewhere between the druid grove and that bridge that leads into the mountains."
"You left them?!" Shadowheart sounded far more concerned than she should be. "Out in the wild?!"
"Oh, so I did!" Astarion made a mock gasp, covering his mouth with his hand. "Well, best get a move on in finding them before a pack of goblins does! Go on then, chop chop."
The corner of Shadowheart’s lip twitched, if she scowled any harder her face would likely freeze like that. "You’re insufferable-"
"And proud!" Astarion grinned like mad, he stepped around her as he vanished into his tent. "Good luck!"
Astarion slammed the door behind him. Or, at least, he pulled closed his tent as aggressively as he physically could without pulling the whole thing over. That would certainly ruin his exit. It got the point across all the same, but there was just something so satisfying about the bang of a slamming door.
Maybe if he had gotten his dramatic ending, he wouldn’t still feel so angry.
How dare they. How fucking dare they. Treat him like he was foolish for not knowing what Philios was. Again, how was he supposed to know! Not everyone was like Gale, who spent all of his waking hours buried in a book. He’d never even heard of a half-dragon! He didn’t even think that was a thing that could ever work! The logistics were baffling to even think about!
How come it was that when the actual dumbass of the camp said something slightly inane, it was brushed aside without a second thought. He was just a poow wittle cweatuwe that didn’t know any bettew! He grew up in the swamp! He doesn’t know anything! You have to be nice to him because he’s just a little guy! But you? You don’t know one very obscure fact? Time to laugh in your face about it and make it a big show.
Astarion bit his tongue to muffle the shout that wanted to come out, kicking over a glass vase that he had put inside of his tent to try to make it more homey. It fell over to the ground and shattered to pieces. Shards of dark red glass scattering around the ground area of his tent, some even getting on his bedroll. Whatever, let it cut him up. Who cares. He snatched up one of his pillows and threw himself on top of his bedding, burying his face into it.
He had to guess that it was only a matter of time until Tav, oh so kindly and understanding Tav, would come by his tent seeking forgiveness. They’d ask so sweetly if they could just talk about it, and that they were so sorry, that they didn’t mean to upset him, that they didn’t think he’d react like that- Yea? Well? If they were truly so sorry, they wouldn’t have done it in the first place.
He sat there, seething, for how long he wasn’t sure. He wound his fingers up into his curly hair in attempts to ground himself, pulled hard and dug his nails into his scalp.
There was a soft scratching sound at the front of his tent. It was what the party had developed in lieu of knocking. Tav; surely it must’ve been. Astarion gripped harder, enough that he felt some of his hair actually tear out.
" Go away! " He shouted, "Whatever you have to say; I don’t want to hear it! Fuck off!"
The scratching stopped, and Astarion waited until he could hear the footsteps of Tav retreating. He couldn’t relax until they did. But that sound never came, and as the seconds dripped by like molasses, Astarion only felt himself getting more and more tightly wound. What if they were just - sitting there, like a creep, waiting for him to change his mind? What if they were eavesdropping on him? Trying to hear him curse them out so they could get something to hold against him? That must’ve been it - sneaky little shit - He’d maim them.
Astarion shoved himself up from his beddings, his hand got cut on a shard of glass. He threw open the front of his tent. "What PART of fuck off did you - oh. "
His voice got very small when he saw that it was, in fact, not Tav who had been scratching at his tent.
Philios was sat on his haunches in front of the door, with a very pathetic look on his face. Astarion stood up from the ground so he was not being looked down at, though even at his full height, he was only exactly eye-level with the squatting Philios. It was likely coincidence, but Philios lowered his head in submission, averting Astarion’s eyes.
Though Astarion was furious at Tav, and to a lesser extent at Gale (but, then again, he was always at least a little bit irritated at Gale), he actually wasn’t sure how he felt about Philios right now. Logicially, he was the most innocent among all three of them. He hadn’t joined in on poking fun at him, and alright, fine, it had been nice of him to retrieve the knives Astarion had lost track of. But he had also been the subject of said mockery, and he still wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t said something behind his back in Dragonspeak.
" You. " Was all that Astarion ended up saying, his hand slid down the fabric of the tent. "Come for your turn, then? If I recall, you didn’t get your own ha-has in." He threw his arms out asides him, tilting his head to the side and puffing out his chest as if putting on a show. "Go ahead, then! Get your fill! Might as well!"
Philios didn’t make a sound. No words, no animal sounds. He dropped his head further, pressing his nose against Astarion’s hand. A thin, watery line of blood trickled out from where his palm had been cut up by the glass. Philios had taken notice. His skin prickled at the unwanted touch, and he almost yanked his hand away, but Philios had moved again, pressing the top of his head against his palm, between the horns. Was he asking to be pet?
"Sorry..." He said, in a low, simpering voice. "They...mean."
Astarion wanted to rip his hand away, shoo the awful beast away from him. He didn’t want to be touched, and he didn’t want to pet him. He wanted to go back to being mad. But... Seeing Philios looking so goddamn pitiful, he was having a hard time keeping that fire in his chest ignited.
Astarion’s shoulders slumped, exhaling through his nose. This was - stupid. This was all so very stupid. He laced his fingers into Philios’s hair, stroking down the long strands. His hair was surprisingly soft, feeling like silk, though that might’ve been because of Tav having coaxed him into a bath earlier that morning. With a dead chicken and a lot of tongue clicking.
Tav. He didn’t want to think about Tav right now. He felt his fingers clench again, Philios looked up.
"It’s - not your fault." Astarion said, through slightly less gritted teeth. "I’ll get over it, eventually, I usually do. They aren’t with you, are they?"
Philios shook his head, Astarion had to lift his hand slightly to make sure it didn’t get bumped around his horns. "No...Green lady, go with...This one stay here."
Both of them had gone out to join up with Tav and Gale? Philios had left the two squishiest members of their caravan all alone? And Shadowheart had called him irresponsible.
Good, he hoped they would get eaten by wolves. He hoped that Lae’zel and Shadowheart would kill each other on the way there and that help would never arrive.
Philios stayed perfectly still as Astarion continued to absently stroke his hair; thinking up all his nasty, dour thoughts. Wishing death upon people he barely knew and all of the things he would do to Tav if it didn’t mean making an enemy out of many, many people.
All throughout, Philios remained a calm, stoic presence. He started making a deep, rumbling noise that came from deep in his chest. Somewhere between a cat’s purr and an alligator’s bellow. Astarion’s awful, evil thoughts slowly started to melt away as he became very distracted by the vibrations of Philios’s gator-purrs.
Eventually, he removed his hand from Philios’s head. The dragon-man opened his eyes again, his hair almost completely obscuring his face from how much Astarion had mussed it. He blew on it to try to see, shaking his head to throw it back over his shoulder.
"Feel...better?"
Astarion scoffed, wiping his hand off on his shirt like he had just touched something disgusting. " For now. " Having run out of anything to bleed, the cut on his hand was now completely dried out. What a waste... "I can’t promise you I won’t start fuming again when I see that bastard’s face." He shoved his hand in his pants pocket to try to hide it, and how odd it was that such a gash was not bleeding more severely. "Tell them to not talk to me, since you two are clearly so friendly with one another."
"No more Dragonspeak." Philios promised. "Only Common, will learn better."

Tav burst out laughing at the comment. Astarion couldn’t manage much more than a disgusted ugh , as he switched positions to roll over onto his stomach.

"The next time you need a lock so desperately picked, you will do it yourselves." He called out, before pressing his face into the grass.

"You know, Philios probably would be less distracted if you would like to be a member of the group!" Tav shouted back. Astarion was ignoring them.

Astarion was allowed a moment of peace again, the heat felt nice on his back, before he heard movement to the side of him. He turned his head enough that one eye was poking out, there was a pink mark on his cheek from where the grass had been pressing into him. Tav had decided to take a seat next to his prone form. I’m sorry, he didn’t recall inviting anyone over here.

"Heya." Tav said, grinning as they saw him turn around.

"I’m busy here."

"Oh, yes, you do look quite busy. So, incredibly busy."

Astarion huffed, rolling his face into the grass again. He folded his arms up around his head to try to block them out. "You told us to rest, I’m resting."

"I meant what I said about distracting Philios, you know."

"I don’t control him." Barring the fact, yes, he kind of did. "And it’s none of my business what Gale decides to pick up to pass the time."

Tav sighed, folding their legs and picking their lyre up again. They went back to plucking that slow, simple song on it. Astarion also did not recall asking for music. How was one supposed to nap in these conditions??

"Suppose it isn’t. But you know how Philios likes you." Tav hummed along to the song they were playing, "It’d be nice of you to be supportive of him. Learning a new language is hard."

"I am being supportive of him." Astarion said, "From a distance, over here."

Tav shook their head, but blissfully dropped the matter. Astarion very much appreciated the return to silence, and felt himself dozing off again. Not quite asleep, but drifting somewhere in that hazy inbetween. Which is why he was very cranky when he felt yet another, much heavier, weight sit down in the grass next to him.

"All finished with your lessons?" Tav’s voice said from above him, in an overtly sweet tone.

The voice that responded to them caught Astarion a little off guard at first. "Mm...Kooh oshk in."

That was definitely Philios’s vocal pattern, but it sounded so - different. And not just because he was speaking in what sounded like, to Astarion, complete gibberish.

"For you, I’d imagine so!" Tav replied, having had put their lyre down to focus on their conversation partner. "There’s a lot of nuances to it, probably a lot more than you’re used to. But you’ll get the hang of it, I’m sure! It’s very nice of Gale to try and help."

"Thah oshk, in eern na." Philios chuffed. His words were slow, rhythmic, and monotone. He spoke in short, one syllable sounds, with no inflection and no emotion. Each word came out like the repetitive beating of a drum. "Ka, tah ohleh. Oohd errn."

Astarion was racking his brain for what other languages he’d heard spoken before, and kept coming up blank for a match.

"Well, he could stand to be a little bit more concise-"

Why did Tav have to be the one that understood whatever it was Philios was saying? Why did they get to be the special little meow meow?

"Can this happen anywhere else?" Astarion piped up before the conversation could go on any further. "You’re blocking my sun."

"Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t realize you owned this hill." Tav looked down at Astarion again. "I didn’t see your name on it anywhere."

"I was here first." Astarion propped his chin up on his arm. The grass was starting to bother his nose too much. "Therefore, it is mine. Finder’s keepers, so it goes. I thought you followed that rule quite dutifully. Remind me why you brought me along today~?"

Tav’s tail twitched in the grass, and they looked about ready to say something snippy.

Philios hummed again, "Ool myhk errn, tou lahr ahm."

Whatever it was Philios had just said, it broke Tav’s concentration enough to make them laugh. Astarion frowned.

"Well, now it just feels like you’re talking about me behind my back."

"Not everything has to be about you, you know." Tav leaned forward, bracing their hands against the ground, "What, are you paranoid or something? Scared there’s bad things to be said about you?"

Oh, plenty. It wasn’t like he had much interest in being chummy with his fellow worm-havers. And he had many, many bad things to say about just about every single one of them. Surely the feeling was mutual. He’d expected it to be.

"Not at all. However, if you’re going to exclude me from the chat. The least you could do is go have it on the other side of the hill."

Tav rolled their eyes. "Oh, you big baby. Trust me, my dragonspeak is wayyy too rusty to even try to say anything nasty about you in earshot. I think Philios would just make fun of me."

Astarion was about to argue something else to that. About how it didn’t matter what they were talking about, it was still bothering him. They could be talking about sunshines and rainbows and it would still be obnoxious. But, before he could fully form that retort - he paused, one of the words Tav had said had just fully processed.

He pushed himself up to rest on his elbows. " Dragonspeak ? Is that what you said?"

"Yes? That’s what Philios speaks." Tav raised a brow. "Why are you acting so confused about it?"

Gale had come to join them as well, having finished putting away his lesson materials in that ridiculously giant hiking bag Tav insisted on lugging around. (Astarion thought it was a hindrance, but at least he didn’t have to carry it. Though in a rare slice of sympathy, he did feel bad for Philios’s poor back.

Wonderful, make it a scene, why don’t you?

"What are we talking about over here?" Gale grunted like an arthritic old man as he sat down in the grass with the others. "Ah- Dragonspeak! I think I heard that mentioned. It’s an interesting language, very to the point. A rather archaic form of draconic, though, I was surprised to learn it’s still used in some parts of the world."

"Gale. Shut." Astarion snipped. He pointed to Philios, his gaze on Tav. "Why does he speak dragon."

The three of them were now all staring at him. It felt like there was a joke here, and everyone but Astarion was in on it. He squirmed at the sudden onset of scrutiny, he hated being the center of attention.

" Astarion..." Tav was the one to break the silence.

"That’s my name."

"Astarion - He’s - He’s a half-dragon." They said it in a way that made it seem like this was obvious and Astarion was ridiculous for not knowing this.

"How was I supposed to know that?!" Astarion sat back, now sitting up fully from the ground. Not wanting to be laying prone while he was being verbally attacked.

"He’s covered in scales!"

"It is rather hard to miss," Of course Gale had to butt in as well. Astarion wanted to cut his tongue out. "Tall, dark, and scaly. Big horns, too."

"Wait what did you - what did you think he was?" Tav seemed the most incredulous of all of them.

"I-I don’t know! A tiefling with a skin condition? I never thought about it!"

Tav looked stunned for a split second, before their face broke into the widest grin Astarion had ever seen. Emitting a loud, full-belly laugh as they fell backwards onto the ground, arms wrapped around their chest as they cackled and wheezed.

If Astarion had the ability to, his face would’ve been cherry red. He sputtered some noises that were supposed to be words; but they had tripped somewhere along the way between thoughts and mouth.

They were laughing at him. Tav was laughing at him. How - How dare they-

Feeling humiliated, Astarion shoved himself up to his feet. Aggressively brushing blades of grass off his shirt, stiffly storming over to that, awful, ridiculous hiking pack to retrieve his knives. He didn’t want to be here anymore.

"Oh! Oh, Astarion!" Tav gasped as they tried to catch their breath, rolling over and pushing themselves up off the ground. "Astarion, no! Come back! It’s okay if you didn’t know!"

Astarion wasn’t listening, and he refused to start. His hands were shaking in barely contained rage as he flipped through the bag, trying to figure out what pocket exactly it had been. He swore under his breath, too frustrated to think straight. Why was this thing so disorganized! (He didn’t realize he had checked the same pocket three times now.)

There was a tap on his shoulder, Astarion wheeled around, making a noise somewhere around a hiss and a shrill screech. "Don’t touch me!"

Philios, who had been the one to tap, recoiled from him. His eyes saucer-wide and ears perfectly flat. He hadn’t even heard him approach, Astarion had been so wrapped up in himself. Sheepishly, Philios held out his other hand, where he was holding the two knives that Astarion had been searching for.

Immediately, he snatched them away from the dragon-man (better update his internal monologue while he was at it! Wouldn’t want to be mocked for that too, now, would we!) and shoved them into their sheathes. He missed one of them, the tip catching the fabric of his pants and tearing a hole at his hip.

" I am going back to camp. If I’m feeling generous, I might tell Shadowheart that you all are out here. I might not. Do not come looking for me."

"Oh, Astarion, come on-" Tav had caught up at this point, they were pleading to try to get him to stay. But, Astarion was hearing none of it, and he turned on his heel and started back down the path where they’d came from.

As soon as Astarion had found camp again, he made a beeline straight to his tent.

He must’ve interrupted some sort of very important glaring match between the two women who had been left at camp, as they startled like spooked cats when he stormed in.

Lae’zel took one look at him, noted the sour mood he was in, and decided not my circus, not my monkies. She picked herself up from the rock she had been leaning against, and retreated into her tent with the door rolled shut.

Shadowheart looked shocked at first, but her expression quickly morphed into a worried scowl as she saw it was ... just Astarion that was returning. She jogged to try to stall him before he went to sulk in his tent, stepping into his path and putting her arm out.

"What happened? Where are the others?"

Astarion stopped, fixing her with a cold stare. "Not on speaking terms." He said shortly, "If you’d like to ask them what they did wrong; you may find them sitting like a thicket of idiots on the side of the road. I think I left them somewhere between the druid grove and that bridge that leads into the mountains."

"You left them?!" Shadowheart sounded far more concerned than she should be. "Out in the wild?!"

"Oh, so I did!" Astarion made a mock gasp, covering his mouth with his hand. "Well, best get a move on in finding them before a pack of goblins does! Go on then, chop chop."

The corner of Shadowheart’s lip twitched, if she scowled any harder her face would likely freeze like that. "You’re insufferable-"

"And proud!" Astarion grinned like mad, he stepped around her as he vanished into his tent. "Good luck!"

Astarion slammed the door behind him. Or, at least, he pulled closed his tent as aggressively as he physically could without pulling the whole thing over. That would certainly ruin his exit. It got the point across all the same, but there was just something so satisfying about the bang of a slamming door.

Maybe if he had gotten his dramatic ending, he wouldn’t still feel so angry.

How dare they. How fucking dare they. Treat him like he was foolish for not knowing what Philios was. Again, how was he supposed to know! Not everyone was like Gale, who spent all of his waking hours buried in a book. He’d never even heard of a half-dragon! He didn’t even think that was a thing that could ever work! The logistics were baffling to even think about!

How come it was that when the actual dumbass of the camp said something slightly inane, it was brushed aside without a second thought. He was just a poow wittle cweatuwe that didn’t know any bettew! He grew up in the swamp! He doesn’t know anything! You have to be nice to him because he’s just a little guy! But you? You don’t know one very obscure fact? Time to laugh in your face about it and make it a big show.

Astarion bit his tongue to muffle the shout that wanted to come out, kicking over a glass vase that he had put inside of his tent to try to make it more homey. It fell over to the ground and shattered to pieces. Shards of dark red glass scattering around the ground area of his tent, some even getting on his bedroll. Whatever, let it cut him up. Who cares. He snatched up one of his pillows and threw himself on top of his bedding, burying his face into it.

He had to guess that it was only a matter of time until Tav, oh so kindly and understanding Tav, would come by his tent seeking forgiveness. They’d ask so sweetly if they could just talk about it, and that they were so sorry, that they didn’t mean to upset him, that they didn’t think he’d react like that- Yea? Well? If they were truly so sorry, they wouldn’t have done it in the first place.

He sat there, seething, for how long he wasn’t sure. He wound his fingers up into his curly hair in attempts to ground himself, pulled hard and dug his nails into his scalp.

There was a soft scratching sound at the front of his tent. It was what the party had developed in lieu of knocking. Tav; surely it must’ve been. Astarion gripped harder, enough that he felt some of his hair actually tear out.

" Go away! " He shouted, "Whatever you have to say; I don’t want to hear it! Fuck off!"

The scratching stopped, and Astarion waited until he could hear the footsteps of Tav retreating. He couldn’t relax until they did. But that sound never came, and as the seconds dripped by like molasses, Astarion only felt himself getting more and more tightly wound. What if they were just - sitting there, like a creep, waiting for him to change his mind? What if they were eavesdropping on him? Trying to hear him curse them out so they could get something to hold against him? That must’ve been it - sneaky little shit - He’d maim them.

Astarion shoved himself up from his beddings, his hand got cut on a shard of glass. He threw open the front of his tent. "What PART of fuck off did you - oh. "

His voice got very small when he saw that it was, in fact, not Tav who had been scratching at his tent.

Philios was sat on his haunches in front of the door, with a very pathetic look on his face. Astarion stood up from the ground so he was not being looked down at, though even at his full height, he was only exactly eye-level with the squatting Philios. It was likely coincidence, but Philios lowered his head in submission, averting Astarion’s eyes.

Though Astarion was furious at Tav, and to a lesser extent at Gale (but, then again, he was always at least a little bit irritated at Gale), he actually wasn’t sure how he felt about Philios right now. Logicially, he was the most innocent among all three of them. He hadn’t joined in on poking fun at him, and alright, fine, it had been nice of him to retrieve the knives Astarion had lost track of. But he had also been the subject of said mockery, and he still wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t said something behind his back in Dragonspeak.

" You. " Was all that Astarion ended up saying, his hand slid down the fabric of the tent. "Come for your turn, then? If I recall, you didn’t get your own ha-has in." He threw his arms out asides him, tilting his head to the side and puffing out his chest as if putting on a show. "Go ahead, then! Get your fill! Might as well!"

Philios didn’t make a sound. No words, no animal sounds. He dropped his head further, pressing his nose against Astarion’s hand. A thin, watery line of blood trickled out from where his palm had been cut up by the glass. Philios had taken notice. His skin prickled at the unwanted touch, and he almost yanked his hand away, but Philios had moved again, pressing the top of his head against his palm, between the horns. Was he asking to be pet?

"Sorry..." He said, in a low, simpering voice. "They...mean."

Astarion wanted to rip his hand away, shoo the awful beast away from him. He didn’t want to be touched, and he didn’t want to pet him. He wanted to go back to being mad. But... Seeing Philios looking so goddamn pitiful, he was having a hard time keeping that fire in his chest ignited.

Astarion’s shoulders slumped, exhaling through his nose. This was - stupid. This was all so very stupid. He laced his fingers into Philios’s hair, stroking down the long strands. His hair was surprisingly soft, feeling like silk, though that might’ve been because of Tav having coaxed him into a bath earlier that morning. With a dead chicken and a lot of tongue clicking.

Tav. He didn’t want to think about Tav right now. He felt his fingers clench again, Philios looked up.

"It’s - not your fault." Astarion said, through slightly less gritted teeth. "I’ll get over it, eventually, I usually do. They aren’t with you, are they?"

Philios shook his head, Astarion had to lift his hand slightly to make sure it didn’t get bumped around his horns. "No...Green lady, go with...This one stay here."

Both of them had gone out to join up with Tav and Gale? Philios had left the two squishiest members of their caravan all alone? And Shadowheart had called him irresponsible.

Good, he hoped they would get eaten by wolves. He hoped that Lae’zel and Shadowheart would kill each other on the way there and that help would never arrive.

Philios stayed perfectly still as Astarion continued to absently stroke his hair; thinking up all his nasty, dour thoughts. Wishing death upon people he barely knew and all of the things he would do to Tav if it didn’t mean making an enemy out of many, many people.

All throughout, Philios remained a calm, stoic presence. He started making a deep, rumbling noise that came from deep in his chest. Somewhere between a cat’s purr and an alligator’s bellow. Astarion’s awful, evil thoughts slowly started to melt away as he became very distracted by the vibrations of Philios’s gator-purrs.

Eventually, he removed his hand from Philios’s head. The dragon-man opened his eyes again, his hair almost completely obscuring his face from how much Astarion had mussed it. He blew on it to try to see, shaking his head to throw it back over his shoulder.

"Feel...better?"

Astarion scoffed, wiping his hand off on his shirt like he had just touched something disgusting. " For now. " Having run out of anything to bleed, the cut on his hand was now completely dried out. What a waste... "I can’t promise you I won’t start fuming again when I see that bastard’s face." He shoved his hand in his pants pocket to try to hide it, and how odd it was that such a gash was not bleeding more severely. "Tell them to not talk to me, since you two are clearly so friendly with one another."

"No more Dragonspeak." Philios promised. "Only Common, will learn better."