mickume/dnd_drow · Datasets at Hugging Face

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"I–" His voice shivered. "I was thinking about my book," He finally spoke, motioning to the book thrown haphazardly next to them. The vampire squinted his eyes, squeezing his cock further to stop anything from leaking. "Please, I–" Gale tried again.
"What else?" The vampire pushed. "I can wait all night, wizard." Astarion teased and Gale whined.
"I–" Gale started but his voice shivered as Astarion’s thumb once again rubbed over the slit of Gale’s tip, the overstimulation causing his chest to tighten once more. "Please, just–"
"Tell me, wizard," Astarion’s eyes darkened, rubbing his tip with one hand and stifling his erection with the other, placing the wizard in a permanent state of overstimulation.
"I’m so close, so so close, Astarion, ha–" Gale breathed through his nose and whined, both hands clawing at his bedroll at every touch. His cock was becoming overly sensitive, in a perpetual state of at the edge: both with his orgasm and with this vampire who was teetering the edge of wanting him and wanting to feed on him.
"Gale," Astarion spoke, leaning once more into Gale’s neck and taking another whiff. "You know, fear and lust smell almost the same. The only difference is fear is much more
." Astarion’s voice quivered slightly, and it was at that moment that Gale could feel the vampire’s erection press against his thigh.
Finally, Astarion was close enough for Gale to see. His pupils were completely blown out, and his eyes shivered in anticipation. Above all else though was his mouth, glistening with what Gale could only guess was
"Tell me who you want. Tell me who you dreamed of." Astarion demanded again, and Gale, to his own surprise, relented.
"You, Astarion!" He said, loudly enough that Astarion pulled back just a bit out of surprise. "You, you, I dreamed of you holding me. Touching me." Gale put his hand over Astarion’s, still holding the tip of his cock. He pushed his hips further up once more, grinding now on Astarion’s lukewarm fingers and his calloused palm, overstimulation causing goosebumps to shoot up his back.
"Eating me." Gale added, and that pushed Astarion over the edge. He sat on Gale’s thigh, placing his legs in between his own. He tilted Gale’s neck, moving his mouth towards it, all too soon, biting down with a hard chomp. All that Gale felt, however, was the feeling of ice, even if Astarion’s mouth was warm from the blood he had earlier. He could feel every breath the vampire took, breathing against him and licking the skin of his neck as he sucked the blood of the wizard. At the same time, he released the base of Gale’s length and moved his hand expertly, Gale wrapping his arms around the vampire and shivering from the lack of blood and the esctasy of his growing orgasm.
"Yes, please, oh gods," Gale begged, feeling the crash of his orgasm hit him. Astarion started to rut blindly on Gale’s thigh, his clothed erection already leaking onto his pants as he rode with reckless abandon. Gale’s cock twitched as he came over his abdomen, the release lasting far longer than it did the night prior. The vampire gripped the wizard’s shoulder with one hand, the other pressed into the forest floor to keep himself stable, as he rutted on the wizard’s thigh and drank. As the wizard came down from his high, adrenaline pumped once more as he noticed the vampire wasn’t ceasing. His blood continued to be drained, and he could feel his appendages start to lose their warmth. Fear once again struck him and he worriedly tapped the vampire, who’s pace against his leg only quickened as he reached his own climax.
In a decisive last pull, Gale could feel the blood escape him, watching as the flush of the vampire’s cheeks blossomed as he pulled away. Gale looked down to see that he, too, had reached his climax, the head of his cock peeking through his half-untied trousers and leaking onto Gale’s bedroll.
Gale caught his breath, a long sigh of relief overcoming him. The vampire quickly tucked himself away in his pants and rose to his feet, and Gale felt his stomach drop as a new fear overwhelmed him: abandonment.
"Wait, where–" Gale started, but the vampire had already turned around and started towards his tent’s door. Astarion looked back once more, and Gale couldn’t see what sort of face he was making. The vampire’s eyes lingered once more before Astarion finally pulled his head away, pushing himself through the tent and out towards the early dawn.
Gale didn’t sleep that night.
By every estimation, Riphi was entirely lovely, both in appearance and in soul.
Naturally, Astarion disliked her immediately.
Well, he supposed he’d liked her a bit, there at the very beginning, when she’d shoved him off of her with such force that he’d ended up on his back, her upper lip curled to show off a row of gagged, pearly tiefling teeth as she snarled wordlessly in his face, like a fucking bear, clawed nails ripping through the delicate lace at his collar.
She damn well would have killed him, or at least made a valiant attempt at it, without hesitation or remorse, had their wiggly little new friends not decided to make themselves known, linking their fates for the foreseeable future.
She was far fiercer than her elegant face and innocently upturned lips gave her credit for. Astarion respected that. Resonated with it, even.
Or – he had, up until she introduced herself as Paladin Riphi under the Oath of Vengeance.
She carried around a pocket-sized paladin rulebook, for gods’ sake.
"No mercy for the wicked." She’d recited cheerily after she’d released him, a fist clenched to her heart, smiling at him cuttingly. Of course, Astarion knew a veiled threat when he heard one.
A goody-two-shoes paladin who had deemed him a moral hazard, nipping at his heels for as long as it ended up taking their merry band of fools to either find a cure or die, whichever came first. Perfect. Perfect.
In contrast, she and the steel-faced cleric who had looked on from the sidelines as they wrestled around in the dirt seemed quite taken with each other. Something about the paladin saving her from a pod and paying back an owed debt, blah blah blah. Regardless, they spoke in hushed voices, ten paces ahead of him, heads tipped together. The sleek blue-gray curtain of the paladin’s hair concealed their faces. Astarion felt her eyes cut back to him all the same.
After the eighth backwards glance in the past five minutes, Astarion had had quite enough. "If we’ve a problem, darling, I would prefer that we stop and resolve it, as opposed to you gossiping with the cleric until we reach the nearest settlement."
Riphi turned to face him fully, her smile amused and not the least bit condescending. It made Astarion bristle. Whatever face he made back at her only widened her smile. "I’ve no real problem with you, eidz ydbr. Nothing we can talk through, at least. Gods forbid two women be wary of the strange man at their backs."
The cleric, Shadowheart, hummed her assent.
Oh, that was such shit. This was so obviously about much more than just that, it wasn’t even funny. Astarion sniffed. "I am no threat to you as it stands, I assure you."
Riphi’s eyebrows shot up to her horns, disbelieving. She snorted crudely and kept walking, as opposed to offering him any response of substance at all, fingers cupping Shadowheart’s elbow to gently usher her along.
"Are you trying to make a fool of me?" Astarion snarled at their retreating backs, stumbling over a particularly large tree root, so focused was he on the pleased flick of the paladin’s tail as she dismissed him entirely.
"Dance for me, jester!" She tossed over her shoulder with a sneering little giggle.
So yes, Astarion was well on his way to hating that sly, self-righteous little tiefling.
By nightfall, Paladin Riphi had swept several more of their fellow fools under her wing, and Astarion’s chances of long-term survival dwindled down to the single digits.
He resolved himself to sitting a league away from their huddle around the fire and fixing the tattered collar of his shirt, willing away the pangs of hunger that stabbed at his stomach like a dozen tiny needles. The day had been long, too long, and overwhelming in every possible respect, and he would have to wait until the others retired before stealing away into the treeline to take the edge off.
Perhaps agreeing to group up had been a mistake.
Astarion was – annoyed. "Annoyed’ didn’t even begin to cover it, actually.
"How fares the repair, eidz ydbr?" Called Riphi from her place at Wyll’s side, already rising to her feet and dusting off the seat of her sleep dress.
Gods above, don’t try to rope me into group conversation, Astarion groused internally. For perhaps the first time in his life, his prayers were answered, as the others barely spared him a glance, letting Riphi approach him on her lonesome.
"Fine, no thanks to you, of course." He responded curtly, praying she’d take the damn hint.
No dice. The tiefling settled across from him, far enough away that there was no chance of them accidentally touching. Astarion appreciated that, at the very least. She chuckled good-naturedly, which only annoyed him further.
"Sorry, sorry. Didn’t have time to think about your lace trim while you were trying to kill me."
He huffed. "Well, you flipped the script quite handily, did you not?"
Tense, pensive silence.
Riphi sighed. "Astarion?"
His left ear twitched. He stabbed the needle through the collar roughly enough to tear it all over again. "No need to call for my attention, paladin. Regrettably, we’re already speaking."
She picked at the grass to the left of his blanket, pulling out a handful and sprinkling it over her legs. "I wanted to apologize. I’ve been goading you all day. We’re not morally aligned, that much is obvious, but I’m not gonna kill you yet–"
Astarion laughed icily. "How gentile."
Riphi ignored him. "–Because I believe that we are an asset to each other, in our shared goal of... not dying. All we’ve got is each other in this, and I shouldn’t be making enemies out of people who need to be allies, at least under the current circumstances."
"The current circumstances? So the second I’m not of use to you, you’ll dispose of me?"
She bit her lip, but her moon-blue eyes sparkled, sly, like they were sharing a joke. "I’m not convinced that you wouldn’t treat me the same. In fact, I’m positive you would. So let’s not pretend otherwise, eidz ydbr."
Astarion scowled. Guilty as charged. "You keep calling me that. I don’t appreciate being spoken around."
"It’s Infernal – because, you know," She gestured vaguely at her horns. "Means "pale elf’. Which you are. "S a neutral statement, "til I know you well enough to call you something better."
"Or you could use my name." He hissed. Pale elf. Gods above.
She just smiled, her scarred nose crinkling. "But where’s the fun in that, Astarion?"
"I don’t exist for your amusement. I am not a toy." He snapped, lip curling.
The paladin sobered immediately, her eyes pulled wide and guilty, ears flattened against her head. She’d struck a particularly sensitive nerve, and she knew it. "N-No, of course you aren’t! I didn’t mean to imply – fuck, I’ve fucked this up all over again. Look, we started off on the wrong foot, and I’d rather we not spend the rest of - of our lives at each other’s throats. Can we start over, please?"
Her expression was open, hopeful, trusting, her pretty mouth parted slightly as she leaned closer, awaiting his reply, her cotton chemise slipping off of one shoulder. Mephistopheles women were known for their beauty, and Riphi was no exception. Astarion knew exactly what her fate would have been, had he darkened her doorstep in Baldur’s Gate. She was gorgeous, he thought, in that detached, clinical sense he’d developed over hundreds of years of luring similarly gorgeous people to their deaths.
"I’m not sure there is a right foot for us, my dear. There’s a reason our social circles back in the city never overlapped."
Riphi drew a stick figure in the dirt between them with one razor sharp claw, looking pensive. "Well, whether we like it or not, we’re here now, and we’re here together. You and the rest of them, you’re all I’ve got now. Paladins protect what’s theirs. I’m sure you’d much rather I defend you with my life, as opposed to being at the end of my blade. I think we can get there. With time."
He scoffed, reaching down and crossing out her stick figure in two harsh strokes, which was admittedly incredibly petty (but what was he, if not spiteful?). She stuck her tongue out at him, curling her narrow pike of a tail almost protectively around her feet as she pulled her knees up to her chest.
"Time isn’t something we have in abundance at the moment, paladin." He murmured idly, smoothing his fingers over his newly repaired collar.
"Then I guess we’ll have to become fast friends, for your sake," She was suddenly only a hair’s breadth away, erasing the space she’d put between them to join him in inspecting his handiwork. Her horn scraped his shoulder as she boxed his left knee between her arm and her waist, leaning over him. He flinched bodily, jerking away. "Oh, eidz ydbr, that looks lovely. I can hardly tell I put my nails through it at all! You did well."
"Thank you, darling," He ground out stiffly, ice cold, just barely staving off the urge to take her by the shoulders and shove. It had ended quite badly for him, the last time he’d tried to bully her around. "Could I have my space back, if you please?"
"Gods, yes, of course, sorry." She scrambled back, hair flying over her horns and into her eyes in her haste to put distance between them once more.
Silence descended upon them as Astarion folded his shirt away, but it was marginally less awkward than it had been minutes before.
Riphi stared off into the treeline, her gaze almost wistful. "Tomorrow is a new day – the first full day of our new lives. I’d rather face it with you than against you," Her eyes cut back to him, bright and soft and startlingly blue. "I can help you, if you’ll let me. We can help each other. This doesn’t have to be hard."
"I’m well aware of your potential use to me. I’m simply uncertain that the benefits outweigh the cost of suffering your company."
She seemed immune to the biting insult under his words, hardly even blinking. Her tail brushed along the toe of his boot as she stood up, dusting herself off again. "Sleep on it, will you? I’ll see you come sunrise, bright and early. We’re meeting Zevlor to discuss – tactics."
He’d almost forgotten about the paltry little fetch quest Riphi had gotten them tangled up in. He sighed. "Good evening to you, paladin."
"Good night, erybbah pil." She risked one last look at him over her shoulder as she took Wyll’s offered hand (how chivalrous), settling back down at the fire between him and Karlach, across from the wizard, and Astarion knew the spark in her eyes as surely as he knew the back of his own hand. Interest, attraction, the first kindlings of desire.
He could work with that.
"What’s your job back in the city, Astarion?" Riphi asked absently, feigning polite disinterest, trying once more to rope her most distant companion into the circle of lively conversation.
Their little group turned back to look at him. She caught Gale’s arm before he tripped over a rock and went ass over forehead.
Astarion hummed, but blessed them with a response. "I’m a mid-level magistrate on the lower end. Quite boring stuff, honestly. I’ve no petty gossip to share with you."
Wyll caught her eye and shook his head minutely. At least part of that statement was a lie.
She let it go, and willed him to do the same. A problem for later. "A lawyer, then! How long have you been practicing?"
He waved one elegant hand around, flippant. "Oh, fifteen years, give or take. How about yourself, my dear? How do you spend your days?"
Lae’zel scoffed, but Riphi allowed him that painfully obvious deflection. She was nothing if not generous. "When I’m not with the other Oathtakers, doing what us paladins do, I’m an archivist and apprentice at the Library of Arcane Magic on the east side. Since I’m borne of Mephistopheles, and all that."
Gale snapped his fingers. "Right, your people’s innate magical abilities! How’s that playing out for you?"
Riphi sighed, shuddering, fingers flexing around the handle of her mace, already stained with goblin blood. "It could be going much better, truth be told. My ability to cast Mage Hand is – inconsistent."
"Oh, cheer up. You’re quite young, you have time to hone your skills. The Gate wasn’t built in a day." Wyll jostled her playfully, his smile warm and reassuring.
"How old are you, darling?" Astarion piped up, appearing right at her shoulder out of thin fucking air.
She smiled up at him, blinking away her surprise. "I turn twenty-five on the ninth of Eleint, gods willing. Xe eriah xe dxehz ba zheyz bmz viah."
"Xe eriah sxebm ahafa," Karlach responded easily. "Ooh, we should all say our ages!"
"I’ve no interest in how long you’ve walked this realm. That information is of little use." Lae’zel piped up curtly.
An awkward pause.
Astarion’s tongue clicked, his lips curled with amusement. "My my, gith, tell us how you really feel."
She bared her teeth at him. "Trust that I always will."
Riphi coughed, scrambling to redirect the conversation into less... aggressive territory. "In my experience, it’s rather uncommon to know your exact age, let alone your birth date. I’m very fortunate, in that respect."
Shadowheart opened her palm, letting a flame spark there, before snuffing it out again. It seemed a nervous tic. "Indeed. My age is a mystery to me."
Wyll shrugged. "I’m, like, thirty. Ish."
Gale inclined his head. "Same."
Karlach chuckled. "Thirty-nine, over here."
Astarion squared his shoulders, chin tilted up with classic high elven pride. Elves loved talking about how old they could get. "I fall on the wrong side of two hundred."
Riphi blew a raspberry. "Midlife crisis right around the corner then, huh?"
Astarion scowled, the wind taken out of his sails. "You’re not funny, paladin."
Wyll clapped suddenly (Riphi would viciously deny how high in the air she jumped when Gale teased her later), pointing at something down the path. "Is that a free meal I spy?"
A felled wild boar, fresh and whole, just laying in the middle of the road. Riphi thrilled at the thought of not having to dig around in moldy crates for their dinner tonight. "Good find, Wyll!"

"I–" His voice shivered. "I was thinking about my book," He finally spoke, motioning to the book thrown haphazardly next to them. The vampire squinted his eyes, squeezing his cock further to stop anything from leaking. "Please, I–" Gale tried again.

"What else?" The vampire pushed. "I can wait all night, wizard." Astarion teased and Gale whined.

"I–" Gale started but his voice shivered as Astarion’s thumb once again rubbed over the slit of Gale’s tip, the overstimulation causing his chest to tighten once more. "Please, just–"

"Tell me, wizard," Astarion’s eyes darkened, rubbing his tip with one hand and stifling his erection with the other, placing the wizard in a permanent state of overstimulation.

"I’m so close, so so close, Astarion, ha–" Gale breathed through his nose and whined, both hands clawing at his bedroll at every touch. His cock was becoming overly sensitive, in a perpetual state of at the edge: both with his orgasm and with this vampire who was teetering the edge of wanting him and wanting to feed on him.

"Gale," Astarion spoke, leaning once more into Gale’s neck and taking another whiff. "You know, fear and lust smell almost the same. The only difference is fear is much more

." Astarion’s voice quivered slightly, and it was at that moment that Gale could feel the vampire’s erection press against his thigh.

Finally, Astarion was close enough for Gale to see. His pupils were completely blown out, and his eyes shivered in anticipation. Above all else though was his mouth, glistening with what Gale could only guess was

"Tell me who you want. Tell me who you dreamed of." Astarion demanded again, and Gale, to his own surprise, relented.

"You, Astarion!" He said, loudly enough that Astarion pulled back just a bit out of surprise. "You, you, I dreamed of you holding me. Touching me." Gale put his hand over Astarion’s, still holding the tip of his cock. He pushed his hips further up once more, grinding now on Astarion’s lukewarm fingers and his calloused palm, overstimulation causing goosebumps to shoot up his back.

"Eating me." Gale added, and that pushed Astarion over the edge. He sat on Gale’s thigh, placing his legs in between his own. He tilted Gale’s neck, moving his mouth towards it, all too soon, biting down with a hard chomp. All that Gale felt, however, was the feeling of ice, even if Astarion’s mouth was warm from the blood he had earlier. He could feel every breath the vampire took, breathing against him and licking the skin of his neck as he sucked the blood of the wizard. At the same time, he released the base of Gale’s length and moved his hand expertly, Gale wrapping his arms around the vampire and shivering from the lack of blood and the esctasy of his growing orgasm.

"Yes, please, oh gods," Gale begged, feeling the crash of his orgasm hit him. Astarion started to rut blindly on Gale’s thigh, his clothed erection already leaking onto his pants as he rode with reckless abandon. Gale’s cock twitched as he came over his abdomen, the release lasting far longer than it did the night prior. The vampire gripped the wizard’s shoulder with one hand, the other pressed into the forest floor to keep himself stable, as he rutted on the wizard’s thigh and drank. As the wizard came down from his high, adrenaline pumped once more as he noticed the vampire wasn’t ceasing. His blood continued to be drained, and he could feel his appendages start to lose their warmth. Fear once again struck him and he worriedly tapped the vampire, who’s pace against his leg only quickened as he reached his own climax.

In a decisive last pull, Gale could feel the blood escape him, watching as the flush of the vampire’s cheeks blossomed as he pulled away. Gale looked down to see that he, too, had reached his climax, the head of his cock peeking through his half-untied trousers and leaking onto Gale’s bedroll.

Gale caught his breath, a long sigh of relief overcoming him. The vampire quickly tucked himself away in his pants and rose to his feet, and Gale felt his stomach drop as a new fear overwhelmed him: abandonment.

"Wait, where–" Gale started, but the vampire had already turned around and started towards his tent’s door. Astarion looked back once more, and Gale couldn’t see what sort of face he was making. The vampire’s eyes lingered once more before Astarion finally pulled his head away, pushing himself through the tent and out towards the early dawn.

Gale didn’t sleep that night.

By every estimation, Riphi was entirely lovely, both in appearance and in soul.

Naturally, Astarion disliked her immediately.

Well, he supposed he’d liked her a bit, there at the very beginning, when she’d shoved him off of her with such force that he’d ended up on his back, her upper lip curled to show off a row of gagged, pearly tiefling teeth as she snarled wordlessly in his face, like a fucking bear, clawed nails ripping through the delicate lace at his collar.

She damn well would have killed him, or at least made a valiant attempt at it, without hesitation or remorse, had their wiggly little new friends not decided to make themselves known, linking their fates for the foreseeable future.

She was far fiercer than her elegant face and innocently upturned lips gave her credit for. Astarion respected that. Resonated with it, even.

Or – he had, up until she introduced herself as Paladin Riphi under the Oath of Vengeance.

She carried around a pocket-sized paladin rulebook, for gods’ sake.

"No mercy for the wicked." She’d recited cheerily after she’d released him, a fist clenched to her heart, smiling at him cuttingly. Of course, Astarion knew a veiled threat when he heard one.

A goody-two-shoes paladin who had deemed him a moral hazard, nipping at his heels for as long as it ended up taking their merry band of fools to either find a cure or die, whichever came first. Perfect. Perfect.

In contrast, she and the steel-faced cleric who had looked on from the sidelines as they wrestled around in the dirt seemed quite taken with each other. Something about the paladin saving her from a pod and paying back an owed debt, blah blah blah. Regardless, they spoke in hushed voices, ten paces ahead of him, heads tipped together. The sleek blue-gray curtain of the paladin’s hair concealed their faces. Astarion felt her eyes cut back to him all the same.

After the eighth backwards glance in the past five minutes, Astarion had had quite enough. "If we’ve a problem, darling, I would prefer that we stop and resolve it, as opposed to you gossiping with the cleric until we reach the nearest settlement."

Riphi turned to face him fully, her smile amused and not the least bit condescending. It made Astarion bristle. Whatever face he made back at her only widened her smile. "I’ve no real problem with you, eidz ydbr. Nothing we can talk through, at least. Gods forbid two women be wary of the strange man at their backs."

The cleric, Shadowheart, hummed her assent.

Oh, that was such shit. This was so obviously about much more than just that, it wasn’t even funny. Astarion sniffed. "I am no threat to you as it stands, I assure you."

Riphi’s eyebrows shot up to her horns, disbelieving. She snorted crudely and kept walking, as opposed to offering him any response of substance at all, fingers cupping Shadowheart’s elbow to gently usher her along.

"Are you trying to make a fool of me?" Astarion snarled at their retreating backs, stumbling over a particularly large tree root, so focused was he on the pleased flick of the paladin’s tail as she dismissed him entirely.

"Dance for me, jester!" She tossed over her shoulder with a sneering little giggle.

So yes, Astarion was well on his way to hating that sly, self-righteous little tiefling.

By nightfall, Paladin Riphi had swept several more of their fellow fools under her wing, and Astarion’s chances of long-term survival dwindled down to the single digits.

He resolved himself to sitting a league away from their huddle around the fire and fixing the tattered collar of his shirt, willing away the pangs of hunger that stabbed at his stomach like a dozen tiny needles. The day had been long, too long, and overwhelming in every possible respect, and he would have to wait until the others retired before stealing away into the treeline to take the edge off.

Perhaps agreeing to group up had been a mistake.

Astarion was – annoyed. "Annoyed’ didn’t even begin to cover it, actually.

"How fares the repair, eidz ydbr?" Called Riphi from her place at Wyll’s side, already rising to her feet and dusting off the seat of her sleep dress.

Gods above, don’t try to rope me into group conversation, Astarion groused internally. For perhaps the first time in his life, his prayers were answered, as the others barely spared him a glance, letting Riphi approach him on her lonesome.

"Fine, no thanks to you, of course." He responded curtly, praying she’d take the damn hint.

No dice. The tiefling settled across from him, far enough away that there was no chance of them accidentally touching. Astarion appreciated that, at the very least. She chuckled good-naturedly, which only annoyed him further.

"Sorry, sorry. Didn’t have time to think about your lace trim while you were trying to kill me."

He huffed. "Well, you flipped the script quite handily, did you not?"

Tense, pensive silence.

Riphi sighed. "Astarion?"

His left ear twitched. He stabbed the needle through the collar roughly enough to tear it all over again. "No need to call for my attention, paladin. Regrettably, we’re already speaking."

She picked at the grass to the left of his blanket, pulling out a handful and sprinkling it over her legs. "I wanted to apologize. I’ve been goading you all day. We’re not morally aligned, that much is obvious, but I’m not gonna kill you yet–"

Astarion laughed icily. "How gentile."

Riphi ignored him. "–Because I believe that we are an asset to each other, in our shared goal of... not dying. All we’ve got is each other in this, and I shouldn’t be making enemies out of people who need to be allies, at least under the current circumstances."

"The current circumstances? So the second I’m not of use to you, you’ll dispose of me?"

She bit her lip, but her moon-blue eyes sparkled, sly, like they were sharing a joke. "I’m not convinced that you wouldn’t treat me the same. In fact, I’m positive you would. So let’s not pretend otherwise, eidz ydbr."

Astarion scowled. Guilty as charged. "You keep calling me that. I don’t appreciate being spoken around."

"It’s Infernal – because, you know," She gestured vaguely at her horns. "Means "pale elf’. Which you are. "S a neutral statement, "til I know you well enough to call you something better."

"Or you could use my name." He hissed. Pale elf. Gods above.

She just smiled, her scarred nose crinkling. "But where’s the fun in that, Astarion?"

"I don’t exist for your amusement. I am not a toy." He snapped, lip curling.

The paladin sobered immediately, her eyes pulled wide and guilty, ears flattened against her head. She’d struck a particularly sensitive nerve, and she knew it. "N-No, of course you aren’t! I didn’t mean to imply – fuck, I’ve fucked this up all over again. Look, we started off on the wrong foot, and I’d rather we not spend the rest of - of our lives at each other’s throats. Can we start over, please?"

Her expression was open, hopeful, trusting, her pretty mouth parted slightly as she leaned closer, awaiting his reply, her cotton chemise slipping off of one shoulder. Mephistopheles women were known for their beauty, and Riphi was no exception. Astarion knew exactly what her fate would have been, had he darkened her doorstep in Baldur’s Gate. She was gorgeous, he thought, in that detached, clinical sense he’d developed over hundreds of years of luring similarly gorgeous people to their deaths.

"I’m not sure there is a right foot for us, my dear. There’s a reason our social circles back in the city never overlapped."

Riphi drew a stick figure in the dirt between them with one razor sharp claw, looking pensive. "Well, whether we like it or not, we’re here now, and we’re here together. You and the rest of them, you’re all I’ve got now. Paladins protect what’s theirs. I’m sure you’d much rather I defend you with my life, as opposed to being at the end of my blade. I think we can get there. With time."

He scoffed, reaching down and crossing out her stick figure in two harsh strokes, which was admittedly incredibly petty (but what was he, if not spiteful?). She stuck her tongue out at him, curling her narrow pike of a tail almost protectively around her feet as she pulled her knees up to her chest.

"Time isn’t something we have in abundance at the moment, paladin." He murmured idly, smoothing his fingers over his newly repaired collar.

"Then I guess we’ll have to become fast friends, for your sake," She was suddenly only a hair’s breadth away, erasing the space she’d put between them to join him in inspecting his handiwork. Her horn scraped his shoulder as she boxed his left knee between her arm and her waist, leaning over him. He flinched bodily, jerking away. "Oh, eidz ydbr, that looks lovely. I can hardly tell I put my nails through it at all! You did well."

"Thank you, darling," He ground out stiffly, ice cold, just barely staving off the urge to take her by the shoulders and shove. It had ended quite badly for him, the last time he’d tried to bully her around. "Could I have my space back, if you please?"

"Gods, yes, of course, sorry." She scrambled back, hair flying over her horns and into her eyes in her haste to put distance between them once more.

Silence descended upon them as Astarion folded his shirt away, but it was marginally less awkward than it had been minutes before.

Riphi stared off into the treeline, her gaze almost wistful. "Tomorrow is a new day – the first full day of our new lives. I’d rather face it with you than against you," Her eyes cut back to him, bright and soft and startlingly blue. "I can help you, if you’ll let me. We can help each other. This doesn’t have to be hard."

"I’m well aware of your potential use to me. I’m simply uncertain that the benefits outweigh the cost of suffering your company."

She seemed immune to the biting insult under his words, hardly even blinking. Her tail brushed along the toe of his boot as she stood up, dusting herself off again. "Sleep on it, will you? I’ll see you come sunrise, bright and early. We’re meeting Zevlor to discuss – tactics."

He’d almost forgotten about the paltry little fetch quest Riphi had gotten them tangled up in. He sighed. "Good evening to you, paladin."

"Good night, erybbah pil." She risked one last look at him over her shoulder as she took Wyll’s offered hand (how chivalrous), settling back down at the fire between him and Karlach, across from the wizard, and Astarion knew the spark in her eyes as surely as he knew the back of his own hand. Interest, attraction, the first kindlings of desire.

He could work with that.

"What’s your job back in the city, Astarion?" Riphi asked absently, feigning polite disinterest, trying once more to rope her most distant companion into the circle of lively conversation.

Their little group turned back to look at him. She caught Gale’s arm before he tripped over a rock and went ass over forehead.

Astarion hummed, but blessed them with a response. "I’m a mid-level magistrate on the lower end. Quite boring stuff, honestly. I’ve no petty gossip to share with you."

Wyll caught her eye and shook his head minutely. At least part of that statement was a lie.

She let it go, and willed him to do the same. A problem for later. "A lawyer, then! How long have you been practicing?"

He waved one elegant hand around, flippant. "Oh, fifteen years, give or take. How about yourself, my dear? How do you spend your days?"

Lae’zel scoffed, but Riphi allowed him that painfully obvious deflection. She was nothing if not generous. "When I’m not with the other Oathtakers, doing what us paladins do, I’m an archivist and apprentice at the Library of Arcane Magic on the east side. Since I’m borne of Mephistopheles, and all that."

Gale snapped his fingers. "Right, your people’s innate magical abilities! How’s that playing out for you?"

Riphi sighed, shuddering, fingers flexing around the handle of her mace, already stained with goblin blood. "It could be going much better, truth be told. My ability to cast Mage Hand is – inconsistent."

"Oh, cheer up. You’re quite young, you have time to hone your skills. The Gate wasn’t built in a day." Wyll jostled her playfully, his smile warm and reassuring.

"How old are you, darling?" Astarion piped up, appearing right at her shoulder out of thin fucking air.

She smiled up at him, blinking away her surprise. "I turn twenty-five on the ninth of Eleint, gods willing. Xe eriah xe dxehz ba zheyz bmz viah."

"Xe eriah sxebm ahafa," Karlach responded easily. "Ooh, we should all say our ages!"

"I’ve no interest in how long you’ve walked this realm. That information is of little use." Lae’zel piped up curtly.

An awkward pause.

Astarion’s tongue clicked, his lips curled with amusement. "My my, gith, tell us how you really feel."

She bared her teeth at him. "Trust that I always will."

Riphi coughed, scrambling to redirect the conversation into less... aggressive territory. "In my experience, it’s rather uncommon to know your exact age, let alone your birth date. I’m very fortunate, in that respect."

Shadowheart opened her palm, letting a flame spark there, before snuffing it out again. It seemed a nervous tic. "Indeed. My age is a mystery to me."

Wyll shrugged. "I’m, like, thirty. Ish."

Gale inclined his head. "Same."

Karlach chuckled. "Thirty-nine, over here."

Astarion squared his shoulders, chin tilted up with classic high elven pride. Elves loved talking about how old they could get. "I fall on the wrong side of two hundred."

Riphi blew a raspberry. "Midlife crisis right around the corner then, huh?"

Astarion scowled, the wind taken out of his sails. "You’re not funny, paladin."

Wyll clapped suddenly (Riphi would viciously deny how high in the air she jumped when Gale teased her later), pointing at something down the path. "Is that a free meal I spy?"

A felled wild boar, fresh and whole, just laying in the middle of the road. Riphi thrilled at the thought of not having to dig around in moldy crates for their dinner tonight. "Good find, Wyll!"