ok. might delete this in the next 24 hours...... :) haha. cam p fire scene............ please god don't show this in search. not to ruin the vibes for anyone right now: tw *st*rion. no pretty formatting because i don't deserve pretty formatting. not necessarily final but it's probably not gettting rewritten lmfao
[...] she could hear a fire crackling, then the katydids singing and the crickets chirping.
The Eleasis evening cooled out into the night, leaving behind a humid warmth in its place. The fire had begun to die out as Zara watched, trying to ignore the pounding in her head from the stress that plagued her. She’d never been this far from Baldur’s Gate - at least, it felt like she’d never been so far from home. She bounced one of her restless legs, had they gotten worse since the nautiloid? Was it the tadpole? Is she the only one that feels like this? Is she already going through ceremorphosis?
She let out a whimper from the thought, which stunned her back into reality. Her hand was submerged in warm water as she bathed a tatter of her skirt, that she guided along the gash in her leg she’d forgotten about. Blood wept from it, and it stung all the while as she pulled the dirt and pebbles from the wound. Once it felt like enough - which was probably more than enough time already - she wrapped it with the bandages she’d stowed away in her belt’s pouch.
Astarion sat opposite to her, the only one left after everyone else had gone off to their bedrolls and quite determined to keep watch over the camp. Hunkered over stiffly, he glared at his right hand, a patch of which was red and shiny in the dying firelight. Sure to blister, of course. Why couldn’t anything ever go right for a change? Then Zara got up, and he bristled. She moved to sit next to him, pale of water in one hand as she reached her other out. “Can I see it?”
“Don’t touch me.” He hissed, cradling his hand. “I don’t need you messing it up more.”
“Let me clean it at least.”
“Astarion. It’s my responsibility.” She said, perhaps a bit harsher than she wished. “Please,” her words softened into a whisper, “this isn’t the first time I’ve hurt someone. Just let me help. Please.”
He swallowed, then very reluctantly and very carefully, he held out his hand.
Zara sighed in relief, tearing off another piece of her dress, that she swished around in the bucket. “It’s going to be a little uncomfortable. I’m sorry if it hurts.” She shuffled closer, pressing the wet rag to the burn.
He kept his gaze on her, unmoving, even as discomfort began to build. “Why?”
“It’s what friends are supposed to do?”
“Friends? You’re awfully quick to declare it.”
“I just… figure it’s better to have allies. And I feel bad. About hurting you.”
“You had all the reason to. I was holding a dagger to your throat.”
“But you’re not anymore. So, I have to right the wrong.”
“You don’t have to do anything.”
Zara looked him in the eyes and firmly said, “I want to.”
Astarion pursed his lips, blinking down at the embers still emitting an amber glow. He stayed quieter still as she wrapped his hand. The hum of the wilds surrounding them filled the silence that had fallen between them, the hooting of owls and the water falling from the streams close to them. Once Zara let go of his hand, he assessed it, clenching his fist and wriggling his fingers. “It might restrict movement. A bit tight, don’t you think?”
“Is it? Sorry, I can fix that.” Zara reached a hand out, but Astarion snatched his away.
“Are you sure? It’s really no trouble.”
“It’s not that tight. I was just… messing with you.”
“Oh! Uh. Alright.” She ran a hand through her loose hair and shrugged, cheeks lightly dusted with a deep red almost imperceptible on her pink skin. “You should ask Shadowheart to take care of it tomorrow morning. The wrapping will keep it from getting infected but unless you’re alright with some scarring, uh, it’s gonna… yeah.”
“Honestly, it’s fine. I… well.” He went quiet. “Thank you, Zara.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I like doing this.”
“I don’t understand how. You’re not getting anything out of this.”
“It’s not about getting something out of it. I…” She sighed, crumpling down into herself. “I just want to be useful. I really don’t have a lot going for me.”
Astarion guffawed, completely incredulous. “You don’t have a lot going for you? We’re all fucked, then.”
“I’m serious.” She bounced her leg. “I don’t know, I… I’m just not, you know, lovable. If I do something to help someone, maybe I can make up for it. Being me. Maybe it is about getting something out of it. I don’t know. I just want to live.”
“Maybe it’s time for you to start living, then.” He pushed a curl behind his ear. “I mean, really, darling. You’re torturing yourself by trying to be palatable to everyone. There’s nothing you need to make up for - and even if there is, sometimes it’s better to move forward. It’s not easy, certainly, but when has that ever stopped anyone? No better time than now, right? Away from everyone you know. Free.”
“I don’t like that you make sense.”
Zara hesitantly rests her head on Astarion’s shoulder, “Hopefully. We need to find a cure soon.”
Astarion eyed her, before he relaxed his taut muscles ever so slightly. “Or we find a way to control them. Either way, I do agree with the sentiment.” He cradled his wrapped hand, trying to mimic Zara’s slow, almost melodic breathing as he waited for her to fall asleep.
A cool breeze came past them, lighting up the near dead fire once again. It crackled along the remaining charred wood. Yes, it would be a long and very difficult road back home.
