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Undoubtedly, in the course of his centuries of life and un-like, there had been those moments in which Astarion would admit he felt that pesky emotion by the name of jealousy.
It wasn't a novel concept given more than a few facets of his elongated life. The first being just the simple fact of his nature; wanting rather than giving. Astarion was a man who appreciated the finer things in life, especially when they enjoyed by others first. Honestly, some people had no idea of what they possessed. Who was he, really, to ignore giving apt appreciating? Back when he was a simple magistrate he had been renown for his tastes in all areas; cuisine, wines, garments, music, etc. He knew the value of whatever came his way, and he loved showcasing it as his own. And with the power behind him to gain it, he often did in some way or another.
Yet, there in lies the second, more dark side of his jealousy. That small, bitter part of his soul that grew like a cancer under his involuntary servitude to Cazador. For centuries he'd just watched as his cruel master fed himself fat and happy with unearned spoils whilst he feasted on the scraps of mice or bats thrown his way like a beast groveling for dinner. It was revolting. Dehumanizing. gods, if only he was where Cazador had been. How he'd fill his belly full of rich, nectar blood while letting that blasted man starve away, locked in some cellar with mildew and rats.
Alas, however, that was all apart of a feeling he kept expertly hidden from the world. Under well rehearsed smiles, Astarion learned to keep that ugly emotion to himself lest someone come in and abuse it. He was rather good at it, he'd admit. No matter how strong it might erupt it would never show on his façade.
Or so it had always been...until he met that blasted courtesan.
◇──◆──◇──◆
The man had been brought up long, long ago at the beginning half of the tadpole infected group. Just a passing reference, really, during a meal shared around the campfire. Despite all of the members of their wayward party divulging more and more of their pasts as the days turned to weeks, their de-facto leader had rarely spoken of herself. The Drow Bard was a living, breathing mystery that confounded Astarion more by the day.
As was her heritage, she was intimidating in ways not even Lae'zel could stand resolved before. The ways her ruby rich eyes would narrow, even by the smallest of measures, felt like spider's venom coursing through the veins of whomever was unlucky enough to face her wrath. The mere sight of her palatinate purple form caused whispers of fear from those they came across. Beware the Drow, some would whisper. Beware the children of Lolth. But they would soon find themselves wrong. As she was unlike all those horrible stories of her kind. She was brave and selfless, constantly putting herself in the line of danger if it meant saving another. No mention of the Queen of Spiders ever uttered from her lips, just teachings of patience and peace from her true goddess, Eilistraee. The one who bore patterns along with her mother on the fine sussur bark lute she played so elegantly, like a maestro to the heavens. It was the only physical prowess she seemed to revel in yet her skills with the blade were nearly just as perfect. Almost as perfect as her ability to command them all to victory. Everything she uttered was direct, both in and out of the battlefield. No word lingered. All was laid out plainly towards whomever was lucky enough to be caught in her conversation. But not him. For him, her sentences were structured like open doorways, with opportunity for him to enter or exit at will. It was always him who led their talks together. Almost searching her out rather than the opposite as he was accustom to. Divulging in her things he had never told anyone; his past, his present, his wants, his fears, his sorrows.
It was near damned confounding, all that was Tav.
Perhaps that is how she lured him into her web? How after so many, many years of feeling absolutely nothing towards anyone he took to his bed, she wormed his way into his un-beating heart. Astarion had originally plotted to do the same towards her yet she turned it all around. Being with Tav was no longer a fail-safe for his survival. It was his survival. She was his way of living once more as the man he truly was.
It was terrifying. More terrifying than Cazador, really. But in a good way, odd as it sounded. Honestly, he had no fathom of an idea of what they were doing - this little arrangement they had created together - but he didn't want it to stop. Gods, did he never want it to stop.
If Astarion was being honest with himself, he was already halfway in love with Tav even back when at that dinner well before they'd taken to 'cuddling'. Not for his lack of trying, of course. It was apart of his long lost plan to seduce her to get her as a stable ally. Tav had her own plans, however, and always turned him down with a sly flirt that left him wanting more. For a bit, he'd began to assume she a true bard - all words, no action - until the conversation somehow turned to where she was the day the Nautiloid scooped her up.
"I was traveling to Baldur's Gate," Tav explained to their collective surprises," My journey began from the Undermountain beneath Waterdeep. I'd barely seen Rivington before that ship took me from the road." She spoke casually about the event, barely looking up from her elegant playing of her beloved lute that served as background music for their conversation. It's pale white face, carved with intricate patterns of moons and spiders, nearly glowed the color of spider silk that her long, smooth hair possessed. Whenever she played, those soul-reading eyes of hers calmed so nicely, he noticed.
Perking at the sound of his home city's name, Gale grinned widely. "You're from my neck of the wood's, eh? I knew there was something right about you."
"As lovely as Waterdeep is, I can't claim my charm is from there. I had only been in the Undermountain for about ten years. My home is back in Menzoberranzan."
"I'm shocked you're all the way over here. Menzoberranzan is quite far, isn't it?" Shadowheart pondered. And she was right; it was far. Very far. The distance between the Sword Coast and the inland Drow citadel was easily a month's journey without accounting for the delays that were sure to happen due to the dangerous terrain, hostile creatures, and hazardous weather. Making that trip was not one travelers took lightly. Only those who needed to leave the city ended up doing so.
All Tav responded with was a nod, but the shifting of the song she played said more than enough. The pleasant little tune blended into a song that Astarion had only heard her play once before when they took their first rest together after waking on that beach long ago. It was a sad tune, full of unshed sorrows and pain. When asked that night, Tav told him it was what Eilistraee played the day she was cast out from her pantheon after defying Lolth.
"Very," Tav sighed, letting the movements of her melody shake the sadness from inside her," But I was going to be returning. Before that, I was traveling to meet an old flame of him."
Thank heavens that their wine supply had run dry that evening. Because if he had been sipping from his cup once he heard that, he would've spat it out all over the rest of them.
"An old flame you say?" Karlach ribbed, a wide smirk erupting on her cherry red face. The others quickly mirrored her expression.
All except Astarion. Before he could slap on that well-rehearsed veneer of a smile he tended to hide his more negative emotions behind, a lip curling frown crawled up his neck. An odd, flinting feeling had started churning in his gut not unlike when he would be given rats for dinner back in Cazador's estate. It had just been there on his face for a moment, but of course Tav seemed to notice. She always noticed every little thing about him. Thankfully, though, she did not comment and instead just changed her song once more to some well known ditty he'd heard done by less skilled Bards that went to the lyrics of 'leave them be dear / for you shall be mine / my kisses are sweeter than he'.
"My, my! I can only imagine you as a blushing maiden holding hands with some tall, dark, and gorgeous." Astarion balked hottily. He had no idea what he was saying but an odd urge to say something very loudly came about him.
Tav rolled her eyes, looking back to her fingers move across the lute's neck. Shadowheart furrowed her brow in thought for a moment before her eyes widened in recognition. "Is this the one you told me about? The courtesan?"
"A courtesan?" Astarion's jaw dropped. The group nearly followed in suite sans the knowing Cleric. Of course, admiring Tav's otherworldly beauty, it wasn't as much as a surprise than initially suspected at her past lover being someone of seduction's favor. Only the best of the best for their artistic Drow. But whilst the others were devolving into teases at the rare opportunity to embarrass Tav, that flint was struck again inside Astarion. The idea of an actual tall, dark, and gorgeous wrapping his arms around that delectable waist of hers brought up some bile in his throat. Did he use his skills he used on his clientele to seduce her? Or did he adhere to her more artistic sensibilities? What did that damned courtesan have that...
To both Astarion's utter annoyance and delight, there was no more discussion about them that night or any other night post. The topic, as much as that nosey part of him wished to divulge into, was treated by the others as just a little fun tidbit about their ever aloof Tav. As it should be. It was just a piece of who she was before Astarion and the others had the good fortune to run into her. Who she was now was far more important, and that was something Astarion was discovering more and more by the day as they began to gravitate to one another's arms. Soon, the idea of that courtesan was just a faint little itch in the back of his memory, no longer haunting his meditations in a rage by a simple little whimper.
But how did they come back with a roar when he finally showed up in the flesh.
◇──◆──◇──◆
Sharess' Caress was the name as indicated by that gaudy sign fluttering above the door. For good measure, in case some foolish virgin wandered in by mistake, little prints of kisses and hearts circled along the sign's script. But that was where the tastelessness seem to stop, however, as the interior was surprisingly cultured. The design still leaned towards the more romantic sensibilities with its reds and pinks dyed into the decor, but, overall, it was rather well decorated and clean. Most of the clientele appeared to not even be participating in the carnal side of pleasure and kept to the well worn yet cared for tables and booths over frothy beers chattering the day's leisure away. There were even waitresses and waiter scuttling about, delivering fine plates of meats and roasted potatoes that smelled absolutely mouth watering - even to Astarion who did not even need to sustain himself on mortal food.
"I was told that whore houses aren't this nice." Karlach, stereotypically naive, wondered aloud as they entered.
"They usually aren't," Astarion answered cooly," They're much more...well, we;ll end up passing by the Flophouse on our way to the city. We can make a little field trip out there so you can truly see how the pleasure business runs." Karlach made a childish, scrunched face in response that made him chuckle. He'd never really bring her to the ones he alluded to. Those buildings were foul and awful. They were where some of his less talented at seduction siblings were forced to catch their victims for their master. For him, he'd stalked around the Sharess Caress once or twice. It was more of a spot one of his brothers and sisters laid claim to. But he could recall that it was a popular spot for traders in the area, having a good reputation of being clean and well-priced.
"Enough dwaddling then, I say. I believe I won't be speaking out of turn when I suggest that we treat ourselves a well deserved lunch for once. What have you to say about that, oh fearless leader?" Gale announced, clapping his hands eagerly together.
Tav, silent the entire time but barely concealing her own salivating stares at the foods being brought out, rolled her eyes in bemusement. "You know I hate it when you call me that." she said in that alluring Underdark twanged accent of hers. It was so unlike any other dialect Astarion had ever heard before in his centuries of life. Every word was so angled, deadly on her silvered tongue. Like a rose's thorns.
"One day I'll earn a laugh out of you." Gale swore. The glee at the prospect of a good meal turned him to a giddy child and it was growing infectious towards the others. They chuckled at the wizard's little display, almost pulling one out of Tav herself before she managed to gate it behind a smirk. She wasn't much of a laugher. Beautifullu composed was far more her sensibilities. Of course, though, Astarion had earned himself a glimpse of the times she let herself relax into giggles when they had their alone time when the campfire simmered to embers. It was a melody, flute light that he wished to keep towards his private listenings. "You all should run along and steal us a table. I'll go up to the barmaid and order us some things."
"Pardon me, my friend" Wyll interupted, smiling," I believe I might the best one to pick our meal. I know Baldurian cuisine far more than the rest of us. And, just to clarify; I am referring to actual food, Astarion." He winked at the last bit after managing to catch from the corner of his stone eye Astarion perking up to make some sort of smart comment. The vampire spawn pouted. Tav gently patted his arm in mock comfort.
"Your tastes might be more refined there, your heigness, but I do have a certain calling towards the everyman selection." Gale countered.
Shadowheart chuckled. "If that what we're calling it?"
Gale mockingly glared at her. "Another word out of you and I'm ordering you gruel." He turned back towards the warlock, pointing a finger at him. "My point still stands. My tastes are the one suited for this highest task."
"Debatable at first glance, undeniable at a second." Wyll winked.
The others in the group watched on highly amused at the silliness of the two men. There hadn't been many opportunities for them to just take a moment to be relaxed, joking around like the old chums they surely were at this point. It was nice. Mundane, especially compared to the deeper moments they had shared on the course of their journey, but nice. Like just for moment their issues paused to let them breath.
Eventually, though, that bubble had to burst. Rather quickly as the two men still playfully bickered, an opportunistic voice of one of the male workers strolled up from behind them all. "If fine tasting is what you desire, gentlement, perhaps I can make a recommendation?"
Now, initially, it was rather funny to Astarion; a prostitute coming up to proposition a pair of bickering magic users who could not decide who should order lunch. It was like some stage play where the two comedic relief characters unknowingly got caught up in some hilarious misunderstanding and whatnot. At least he thought so. Hells, the other party members thought so. Even Lae'zel let out a tiny snicker! But one person did not see it as such. Not the men whom they were laughing at. Not the man trying to earn his wage. Tav. Who, at the sound of the voice, froze up as if a chill hit her spine.
None of them had ever seen Tav be so stunned. Not even Astarion who'd seen more aspects of her than the rest combined. Happiness he'd seen. Same for weariness, anger, lust, and sadness. But never shock. This was new. Uncomfortably new. Even more so when she turned, back stiff as a board, around towards the newcomer.
"Sorn?" she all but gasped.
Whipping his head around far faster than the rest, this Sorn was just as visibly rocked as Tav was. Astarion, though, had a far better time hiding his. A Drow as well, Sorn looked the part of a high priced courtesan; tall, flawless indigo skin, and muscles that seemed to be chistled from stone. Only the gob-smacked look stetched across his handsome gave broke the illusion, but even then not by much.
"T-Tav'rielle?" he breathed through trembling lips.
"Tav'rielle?" Astarion could hear Gale echoed in confusion but it sounded as though it was underwater. Something was beginning to buzz inside his ear, drowing out the rest of the room.
"By her dancing light, is that really you Tav'rielle?" Sorn took a step towards the only other Drow in the room, one arm raising as if to touch Tav to see if she was a ghost.
And to now his utter surprise, Tav let him.
Flint. Something deep inside his gullet struck.
The veined hand of the man looked so misplaced against the fine shape of her arm, Astarion noted mentally. But Tav did not shrug him off. If anything, her breath caught in her throat at the touch. "Siyo. Yes. It is me."
Sorn's other hand came to join her other arm. "Vel'klar zhahen dos, tav'rielle? vel'klar inbal dos tlus? orm lueth usstan'bal tlus ji ezsakil vel'drav dos neitar jousus."
"Sorn, keep to Common. Not everyone here understands our mother tongue." Tav scolded, a bit of her normal demeanor returning.
Astarion's lips pursed a bit. "I know a few of the words you've taught me." he mumbled just barely loud enough for her to hear.
"My apologies." Sorn cleared his throat, not looking the bit at all truly sorry. He removed his hands from Tav but kept his close step in front of her. For the first time since arriving, he let his gaze scan the rest of them. "I...I forgot my manners. It's just...I can't believe you're here right in front of me."
"Here I am; in the flesh." Tav smiled. Actually smiled. Astarion blinked a few times just to make sure. Not a smirk. Not a lopsided tilt of the lips. Smiled. At the man the rest of them just met. "There has been some...unforeseen detours in my travels."
"Then perhaps they are best said over some drinks." Sorn offered. He gestured to a smaller, more private wing of the Caress. "Please, let me treat you and your companions. The only payment I'd ask for is to here about where you've been."
"I do not know, Sorn," Tav sighed," We are rather bus-"
"Please, Tav'rielle. I have missed you so greatly. And as well...you are very late for visiting me." Sorn smirked, admittedly rather charmingly. Something about what he said rang a familiar bell within Astarion's mind. It was an inside reference between the two, no doubt. Yet there was something about what he was alluding to that also made Astarion feel as though he, too, was in on the reference.
When the corner of Sorn's lips began to curl into something a bit less innocent, more telling, that's when it finally dawned on Astarion who exactly this Sorn was.
Oh Nine Hells, it was that courtesan. The one that Tav was suppose to be meeting in Baldur's Gate. That old flame of hers.
Flint. Flint, flint.
"If you're offering, I think our gold purse would like to accept." Shadowheart chimed in. Something impish was in her tone, her eyes darting from Astarion to Sorn. If he had to wager a guess, Astarion would assume she was trying to instigate one of those foolish plots from one of those romance novels she kept stashed away in her tent.
"Wonderful!" the courtesan gleefully grinned but kept it mainly pointed towards Tav. The woman in question seemed a bit dazed by it all, missing as she began to walk towards where Sorn led her that his hand had lifted to float behind the small of her back. Astarion didn't. His blood-red eyes kept close watch onto that hand. If the table hadn't been so close he'd replace Sorn's with his own.
In the private, more intimate area of the Caress there was a large round oak table with just enough seats for them all to sit with ample elbow room. Two of the chairs were more luxurious than the others, however, and based on his prior knowledge of brothels, Astarion could tell it was the courtesan and their clients main seating. The one where they'd lay out their contract for lovemaking. Also it was the seat that Sorn decided he and Tav should rest in, making sure to guide her to one and pulling it out all too gentlemanly.
"How chivalrous." Karlach cooed.
Flint.
She and the others quickly took their seats, their need to rest their weary feet outweighing their perception at the situation. They at least had the insight to leave the chair to the other side of Tav free for him to sit which he took all the tautly. Sorn took his seat the Tav's other flank, all but ignoring Astarion's silent measurement of their chair's distance. "It's so wonderful to see you again. It's been far too lo-"
Cutting through his voice, Astarion decided that the space between he and Tav's chair was far too much. Grabbing the back of his plain chair, he dragged the furniture piece to be just beside her own. The entire time, of which, he allowed its feet to bitterly scrape against the floor, the ear gnawing sound elongated like a wheeze until he found a suitable spot. Astarion just sat down casually after, ignoring the stares of his companions and the nosy patrons and just smirking at the Drow male. "Pardon me. Do continue."
Across the table, Shadowheart leaned towards Wyll and mumbled," This is going to be rather interesting."
"As I was saying..." Sorn trailed, regaining his composure," It's been far too long, Tav'rielle."
"Please, just call me Tav. You know how I feel of my full name." Tav corrected.
"But it is a beautiful name! Just of meaning deep in our culture." Sorn acted affronted. One of the employees came over, a tray of foaming, frothy ales nearly pouring over their tankard's lips. All of them eyed them greedily, Lae'zel actually taking hers while the poor, terrified waitress was handing Wyll his.
Gale leaned forward over the brim of his cup. "And what meaning might that be?"
"It means bloodletter." Tav rolled her eyes. The waitress handed her a cup a bit smaller than the rest. Unlike the rest, it was not filled with beer but a spiced wine by the smell of it. Rich in an emerald shade, flecks of silver glittered across its slightly fizzing surface. When she caught the sight, she looked up at Sorn who looked positively smug at himself. "You remembered?"
"Ulaver Wine. Your favorite." he jingled, crossing those large arms of his proudly on display in his 'uniform'.
Astarion grimaced. It wasn't all that impressive, really. If he had known her favorite drink he would've ordered it himself for her. Perhaps in a nicer goblet as the plain tankard was not at all fitting for someone of her elegance. Next time, he committed to memory, he'd order it for her in some nicer chalice. Tav didn't seem to mind, thought, as she sipped at the unique Underdark drink, her eyes fluttering a bit in bliss at the taste. "Thank you, Sorn. I have not had Ulaver Wine in...Hells, I do not know how long."
"I know you and I shared a bottle before I traveled down here," Sorn sipped at his own drink," I had this bottle ready for when you arrived yourself. Better late than never, I'd say."
Astarion grunted. From the corner of her eye, Tav peered at him. Just as always, her expression was well hidden. And unlike always, his was starting to not. Fustration was beginning to seep out from behind his mask. Turning to a drink to swallow down the feeling, Astarion snatched the cup from Tav's fingers and took a swig of the odd looking beverage. It was most definitely spiced. Almost tasting of a cold mulled wine.
"Do you wish for me to order you your own class of wine?" Sorn offered.
Astarion slapped a charming grin on. "Oh, I would hate for you to exert yourself. Besides, me and our little bloodletter here don't have any issues sharing. Right, dear?"
Tav raised a brow at him. Astarion kept the veneer up, making a show of giving her cup back to her. "Of course..." she trailed, suspicion thick in her voice.
"I'm surprised to see you sharing at all. Let alone with so many companions. You were never much of a people-person despite our focus in the College." Orym chuckled. He turned towards the others. "So many people tried desperately to speak to you during our lessons and you scared them away as if you were a fanged beast. Once we starting to bond, I had others come up to ask if I had put you under some sort of charm."
"I see not all that much as changed," Shadowheart titled her head," Though she has become far more social, in the beginning of our journey she was very aloof."
"Aloof is an improvement. Why there was one time my sister tried approaching her just to ask where the library was - Menzoberranzan's sect's layout was horridly confusing - and Tav here just walked away as she was mid-conversation! She came to me afterwards absolutely seething!"
"If I recall correctly, she found me later that day and chew me out so much my ears bled." Tav smiled a bit at the memory.
"She did have a habit of conjuring some Vicious Mockery into her scolds," Sorn laughed," The only time I saw her angrier was when she found out through gossip, fitting for our schooling, about the two of us instead of us telling her ourselves."
Flint.
A twitch had begun to set in Astarion's eye. The other story was fine. If anything, it was a but cute hearing about a younger, more angsty Tav. He could almost imagine her, looking just the same thanks to her especially elongated Elven lifetime, but more sour stalking through the shadowy halls in a pretty little uniform. If they had met then would she have been just as cold? Or would he have worn her walls down in the same vein she did his? But this new tale - a reminder of her heart being within his grasp - was less cute. It was positively annoying.
Ever oblivious to it, though, Karlach smiled like a lovesick schoolgirl and asked," How did you two get together? Tav never said anything about you two."
"You never mentioned me?" Sorn asked, an actual look of hurt streaking across his bare shoulders just a bit.
Before Tav could respond, Astarion leaned forward whilst also resting an arm on the back of her chair right behind her shoulders. "Not even a little bit." he tsked. Without a doubt a little bit of his smugness was stuck to his fanged teeth like a stray piece of lettuce.
"There was not much to tell." Tav sighed tiredly. She leaned back in her seat, unknowingly feeding into Astarion's pompousness as it also made the blades of her shoulders lean into his arm. "It was decades ago. We were both so young. I was still devoted to Lolth at that time." Ego ballooned out of Astarion's chest as he felt her back tense at the name of her former deity and was inflated with concern as replacement. The others in the group had not heard much of her years worshiping the Queen of Spiders. He had. One night after a 'cuddle' when Astarion was far more present than he had been the last romp they'd shared, she had told him of the day she defected. How up until then her life had been decided for her all in the name of furthering the fight between the Drow pantheons. And how she was nearly killed for it. Some nights when they drifted off into their meditations together, he could feel when her dreams turned to that night. She'd turn so small in his arms. Scared. Pained still from that day she was left dying on the side of a road with no aid after all she had done for Lolth. Only scooping her to press against his chest seemed to ever calm her down, softly humming that sad tune of Eilistraee until the memories subsided. But in the visage of company, the ever strong woman he knew shook her head and squared once more to not ruin the mood. "As well, there is not much to talk of," she said casually," It was what it was."
"I wouldn't say that." Sorn shrugged. He picked up his cup once more. "There are a few sonnets written of our times together."
"Oh, do tell!" Karlach beamed. Astarion turned and glared at her. The large Tiefling Barbarian simpered like a child who had been scolded.
However, the others were not as scared as they began goading into the male to spin them a tale of their romance. If Astarion didn't know any better, he would assume that they were conspiring against him in the interaction. Willingly inciting that venom, bile slowly creeping up his gullet with every strike of the flint and steel that little green handed emotion of his did inside his chest. Because he knew better, he knew that was exactly what they were doing. And succeeding in.
"Well, there is 'Webbed Veils Covered Such First Kisses'."
Gale nearly choked on his drink. His eyes widened as he flustered," The one that goes 'within the bloodshed that creates our heavy woe / it is an alter for hearts in twain / a kiss shared for first and many beneath her diamond web'? That was you two?"
"After our first true tasks when graduating from the College. There had been a wayward sect of Menzoberranzan who were experimenting on some of the spiders from the Hatchery. Naturally, the Queen of Spiders did not like her chosen creatures being twisted. So, we were sent to exterminate them, posing as high end buyers of the abominations. They proved to be quite a battle, but at the end we succeeded. And...celebrated, let's say." Sorn smirked. Tav avoided his eyes, turning back to her wine and taking far more than a sip. "One of our associates, a famed Poet of the Underdark nowadays, saw and wrote the sonnet afterwards. It's interesting to hear of its popularity even on the surface."
"Not that popular anymore, it seems. I can't recall if we heard it any time in our travels together. Do you, darling?' Astarion bitterly feigned ignorance, turning to Tav with the question. Her eyebrow pricked at the pet name. Of course, he tended to like to use more fun names than hers despite his love of it (especially not knowing its delicious meaning) but he was laying it on a bit thick this time around, letting his tongue roll and elongate each title. "Though I have heard a few tales of our adventures crop up as we grew near Rivington."
"As have I," Wyll agreed, good-humored as he aided Astarion's plight to one up the other man," We helped a Bard named Alfira and it seems as though she's repaid the favor by speaking good things about our names. There was 'Deviled Groves', 'Rebirth From A Skyship', -"
"I'm a large fan of 'Pricked Necks of Wayward Lovers'." Astarion added. His toothy smile saying so was not accidental. He very intentionally made his fangs more seen. If he knew she would not bite his hand, he would have also pulled down a bit of Tav's collar to showcase the scabbed punctures along her jugular.
"Ah, yes. I've heard that one. It's...nice. Lacking a certain bit of passion." Sorn sniffed.
Flint. Flint, flint.
"I would think for a courtesan you'd recognize deeper, more engaging meaning in the song. Such as the lines 'Within her ruby veins lies prayers he whispers over meals'." Astarion leaned forward, almost crossing a bit over Tav. He hadn't looked at her all this time. His gaze was locked onto Sorn who seemed to be just as skilled in his at hiding behind a mask but Astarion could see the slight rumbles behind his dull red eyes.
"Oh, I do. But do you not feel as though 'Webbed's prose of 'their beauty foretold, their future feared' implies far more?" He, too, leaned a bit towards the vampire, getting a bit more within Tav's circle.
Flint, flint. Flint, flint, flint.
Astarion pretended to ponder like a scholar. "A bit shallow. Focusing on appearances. I believe 'Necks' dives into the nuances of passion and romance between the lovers."
"Truly? It's always reminded me more of someone sneaking in a meal," Sorn scoffed," Not relishing in a feast made for the soul."
Creaks from a wine glass was the only thing that cut between their tryst. Neither from either men, who had yet to touch their drinks in some time. But rather from the woman between them who (as Astarion was later informed of when the highly entertained comradery of theirs recounted the story) was beginning to darken over in annoyance.
"Oh trust me, I believe one of those lovers throughout enjoyed every sip dropped from the other's eagerly awaiting neck."
Sorn narrowed his eyes, façade dropping. "Only for her to turn her head. Probably waiting for the first lover to come from the shadows."
Flint. Flint.
Spark.
According to Lae'zel's attentive memory, she recalls that though it was close, it was Astarion who moved to lunge first. That he had just began to lift off his seat, his arms moving upwards in a grabbing stance, before being shoved back down onto the chair by the strong palms of Tav, who as well, shoved a quickly rising Sorn as well. Rage had been crawling its way into her jaw, Lae'zel could tell, but just as either man moved, it completely set along her molars and forced her to her feet.
"Enough!" Tav shouted at the two. Astarion and Sorn leapt at the sound. The others in the room flinched - all except their companions who seemed positively delighted by the little show. Those jeweled eyes of hers were red like hot pokers as she glared at bickering Elves. "Enough of this ridiculous bickering! Like children, you two!" From the other side, Astarion could see shame brittle Sorn's face. It made him leer a bit despite himself. Tav, though, noticed quickly and whipped her head towards him so hard and fast it nearly made the pin keeping her hair piled at the top of her head fall out. "We are speaking outside."
"But we haven't gotten out meal yet." Astarion sheepishly tried to excuase.
Tav's nostrils flared. "Astarion Ancunin, now!"
Oh shit. The last name.
He was in trouble.
Grabbing him by the fine embroidered collar, Tav dragged the stunned man right through the entrance of the brothel, not giving a damn at the stares they were getting all the way through. Which, of course, meant that she and he missed the looks on the face of their friends.
"Now that...was worth the trouble." Gale whistled, absolutely preening as he unabashedly awed them leave.
"Lunch was an excellent suggestion, my friend." Wyll complimented, lifting his cup to the wizard to cheers. Karlach burst out laughing, cheeks aching as she let it fly free once she knew that the angry Drow was no longer around to feel her wrath. Even Lae'zel chuckled, pounding a fist on the table.
Shadowheart raised her own cup. "Very much so. I haven't seen a show as good as this one in ages."
◇──◆──◇──◆
Outside was less good for one man as he was jostled around by the neck into the alley behind the shop. Only the stinking back of the building and a rotting railing separating them from the sea cliff were witnesses at the positively murderous look Tav was sending Astarion.
To his absolute credit, Astarion tried so hard to compose himself in front of her now that they were alone. But that embering feel was still in his stomach and melted it away to a sour, dark pout. "Did you need something?" he turned his nose up.
"An explanation for your behavior would be nice." Tav neary growled. Her arms crossed over her chest.
"I was simply making nice with your old beau," Astarion ran his fingers through his hair," Getting a read on your type, I should say."
"My type?" Realization waved into Tav, washing away the white-hot anger into cooling understanding. Fatigue, though, remained as well. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she sighed," You were jealous of him." It wasn't a question. She didn't really need to ask the question. If she did, they both knew he would just tell her. He always told her everything even when it was utterly embarrassing like being childishly jealous of her old lover.
"How could I not?" he sneered," He was an actual tall, dark, and gorgeous! An actual courtesan who is still very clearly interested in you." Astarion put his hands on his waist. Suddenly, he couldn't look her, turning towards the ocean views instead. "I mean, really. From the moment he got his sights on you he's basically been undressing you with his eyes. Which is especially irksome because he knows what you look like naked! How am I suppose to react! This entire time I've had you all to myself. And now this man rolls in and is...trying to take you away from me with those blasted little looks and reminders of the past. It's awful!" He glared at the waters. The sun felt so hot on his forever frozen skin. Almost as hot as that inferno in his gullet.
He did not hear her response for a bit. For a moment, Astarion assumed she had left him alone to cool down. But then those arms of her, so strong and lithe, wrapped around his mid-section. "No one will take me from you. Not Sorn. Not anyone. You chose me, Astarion. Until the day you no longer wish me here, I will be at your side." she breathed, pressing against his back.
"You say that...but my history serves with things being taken away from me anyways." Astarion mumbled. He pressed a hand against her enclosed ones against his lower stomach.
"I am not a thing. I am me. Someone who adores you so much, slyan'ssun." Tav reminded, using that little Undercommon nickname she loved to call him. He had yet to find out what it meant, but it really didn't matter. Just the fact that she had some special little name for him was worth more than pretty words. "What Sorn and I had was one thing, but what we have is something much more."
Astarion hung his head, hair falling in front of his eyes. "Something I can't even make myself define. You deserve more...maybe he can give you that..." his voice trailed off in self-pity.
Those arms of her leapt off his skin as if they were burnt. Her hands grasped onto his forearms and spun him around to view her steely gaze. Her jaw was tense once more, but less in anger and more in resolve. "No. There are no words you can use to say the connection we have because mortal words cannot begin to describe what it is. Beyond sonnets or poems or whatever else Sorn wishes to cling to the past with. I was not who am I today with him. I was a version of myself still plagued with anger and despair from the life I was forced to live. Who I am now is one who is healing from all of it, in part thanks to you. You chose me from everyone we have come across, but I also chose you. You would do well not to forget that."
It was a fact that hadn't really dawned on him all this time they had began their...whatever it was that they had begun. For all she had given him - her patience, her guidance, her understanding - he had given to her as well. For once in his selfish life, he gave something full force back to another despite his mind trying to convince him it was all apart of some sort of plan of gaining her alliance. Astarion wished to give to her. He wished to give all he was and more to her in the ways she deserved. Because she was right; she had chosen him as well. This beautiful, insightful, muse of a woman who'd have an endless supply of potential lovers falling at her feet chose him. A man broken by others and a shell of who he once beat his heart as.
A certain world that began with the letter 'L' came to mind. One he said to her once without any real meaning behind it as a means of woo. Time had decided to fill its emptiness but that was best kept for a righter moment.
"I am sorry, my darling." Astarion sighed, all that fire escaping with it. He rested his palms against her waist. "Just seeing him...I got so swept up in jealousy I couldn't bare it. The very idea of looking to my side and not seeing you is a nightmare in itself. You are mine. The very idea of others not knowing that seethes in me."
"Then make them see it, slyan'ssun," she smiled.
Astarion found himself smiling back, hands now lifting to cradle her cheeks. "And how do you, my richest treasure, suggest I do that?"
"Whatever you think is right, I believe." she playfully shrugged. The afternoon
"Then this would be the next course of action." Astarion leaned down and seared his lips against hers. She tasted of that wine, spiced and dangerous and something entirely her own. A perfect flavor that satisfied that hunger always brewing in him. Like a homemade meal from childhood memories that soothed not just the flesh but the soul. His soul. All the blizzard of anguish Cazador gave to him melted at the faint touch of her lips. After sometimes they kissed he'd tell her that she was perfect, every single time but never could he express just how much. She was beyond perfect. She was as if made just for him. Just for Astarion to heal his wounds.
All his. And him, all hers. Courtesans be damned. Jealousy be damned.