#durgarion

‘I see you, and you see me

‘Watching me blow through your line

‘While I’m setting the scene

‘Oh boy, you’ve got to know

‘What my knife overlooks

‘My senses will pick up instead

‘When I’m searching for truth

‘I can’t escape your

‘Scrying eyes

‘You’re watching me

‘You see my every move

‘Scrying eyes

‘You’re watching me

‘Scrying eyes

‘You’re watching me watching

‘Me watching me watching me

‘I play with swords I play with spells

‘I’ll cast them around but that ain’t enough

‘Cause boy you’re gonna know

‘If I’m playing your game or deceiving you

‘Don’t know why but I’m hurting inside

‘I don’t wanna escape your

‘Scrying eyes

‘You’re watching me

‘You see my every move

‘Scrying eyes

‘You’re watching me

‘Scrying eyes

‘You’re watching me watching

‘Me watching me watching me

‘Why do you hide behind the eye

‘You’re a spy but I’m on your side you see

‘I can’t hide behind a disguise

‘You’ll still know me

‘I look into your

‘Scrying eyes

‘You’re watching me

‘You see my every move

‘Scrying eyes

‘You’re watching me

‘Scrying eyes

‘You’re watching me watching

‘Me watching me watching me

‘Scrying eyes

‘You’re watching me

‘You see my every move

‘Scrying eyes

‘You’re watching me

‘Scrying eyes

‘You’re watching me

‘Scrying eyes

‘You’re watching me

‘You see my every move

‘Scrying eyes

‘You’re watching me

‘Scrying eyes

‘You’re watching me’

I finish my song and look up at my one man audience.

“That was absolutely awful,” Astarion says. “Please never play that again.”

I shake my head in disbelief, “I worked all day on that.”

“Well, maybe you should be working on something better, a song about me, for instance,” he grins. “Just a suggestion darling.”

I look out into the night, sensing the ever present watcher. I imagine locking eyes with them, imagine they heard every word of my song, and believe they know I’ve found them out. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right, now come here would you?” Astarion crooks his finger at me and I lean towards him, letting him kiss me.

He pulls away and looks at me thoughtfully. “You know, I find most bards extremely annoying but you really don’t play half bad.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

He stands, looking down at me. “As you should dear. Are you coming or not?”

“I’ll meet you back at camp,” I say. “I just want to play a little more before I come back.”

“Suit yourself.” I watch his retreating figure for a moment before turning back to the darkness.

“I don’t know why you’re so intent on following me around, but I know you’re there,” I say, trying to see the orb I know is just beyond my view. I wait a few moments, but nothing happens. I crook my finger at the shadows, beckoning it closer. “Are you as drawn to me as I am to you?”

Someone is watching, someone has been watching. It wasn’t right away, but since the goblin camp, someone has been watching. Not the guardian, although I think he listens in on everything. Whomever that is, it is not the same as the person in the orb. I run my fingers over the strings of my lute, picking them a little. I close my eyes, leaning against the rock behind me, sighing. I play a tune, a melody for a song I believe I once knew but have long forgotten. I think about the man I saw in the vision with the goblin priestess. He is often on my mind, often in the background, though I am not sure why.

I open my eyes and see the purple ball staring at me, openly watching me now. It’s so close, I could almost swing my lute and knock it out of the sky. I push my instrument to the ground and lean towards it, holding my hand out as if to touch it. It moves ever so slightly closer. “Is it you? The man that haunts me?”

It looms closer as if in response. I tip my frame closer to it and my fingers skim the underside, cool to the touch and smooth as glass. It shudders a little at the feeling but doesn’t rescind, and I cup it in my hands, settling back against the rock with it. The eye shifts inside its case and a ghost of a memory of plans to make these come to me, so faintly. Did I read them in a book? I wince as I try to recall more, but nothing comes. The eye shifts over me, as if assessing me for signs of injury.

“I’m okay, physically at least. I seem to have misplaced myself, however,” I talk to the ball in my hand, treating it as if it were a friend, not a stalking eyeball in the night. “I can’t remember much of anything from before the nautiloid.”

The orb seems to shiver with understanding. I let it go and it rights itself, it’s eye everwatching. I smile at it before gently batting it away from me. “It’s time for bed, and probably you too. Whatever or whoever you are.”