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Gale looked up from the book he had been reading - a remedial Elvish book he had come across - when the two main reasons he was studying such a book came into view.
Nikaia and Astarion were arguing in Elvish. It seemed to be their preferred tongue when they got heated enough. Astarion seemed a little rusty at it and would interject with common here and there. So Gale honestly couldn’t tell why they were fighting. One moment they seemed perfectly fine, chatting around the campfire as Nikaia finished her breakfast. The next thing he knew their voices were raised as Astarion trailed behind her and she stomped off towards Withers. Things seemed to be a little tense between them, sometimes, ever since they came back up from the Underdark.
The camp’s resident living (a subjective word, clearly) corpse stood and watched them approach, only giving a cursory look to the two as they continued to argue in Elvish. Nikaia let out a roar of frustration and finally shouted in common, “ Then don't come with me!” And proceeded to turn to Withers, asked him something, and suddenly…there was another elf man there, dark hair in a braid very reminiscent of Shadowheart’s. Handsome too. But there was something off about him. Gale wasn’t sure what it was. Just that he had a feeling this man didn’t just come from another village and he certainly wasn’t like the rest of the group. No tadpole was hitching a ride in his skull.
Going back to her bedroll she picked up her bag and weapons. “Karlach, Shadowheart, Lae’zel; we’re going out and testing this hireling Withers found for us.” Her voice was firm and brokered no room for questions.
“Who’s the new guy?” Karlach and the other two women came to join Nikaia. Shadowheart and Lae’zel also seemed to be giving him a once-over. “He’s cute.”
“Jacelyn, saer,” the man replied and gave a little bow to the tiefling. “I'm a sorcerer.”
“Oh, I like him!” Karlach laughed and the group left camp.
Wyll, who had been oiling the leather of his armor, wandered up to Gale. “What was that all about?” The two men looked to Astarion, who was pacing in front of his tent and doing a rather good impression of Gale by worrying his fingers between his lips.
“We know the ‘who’, let's go see about the ‘why’,” Gale suggested, tilting his head in Astarion’s direction.
They wandered over to Astarion and fixed the vampire with questioning looks when he noticed them as they approached.
Astarion let out a heavy sigh, “And what do you two want?”
“I am just curious how you managed to ruffle the proverbial feathers of our fearless leader,” Gale inquired, clearly finding delight in the rogue's predicament.
“Yes, she didn't even get that upset when Lae'zel and Shadowheart were quite literally at each other's throats,” Wyll added with a smirk.
Gale tapped his chin, as if in thought. “Oh, but she did punch Aradin when he insulted her.”
“Bloke deserved it, I'm sure. A damn shame I missed seeing that,” Wyll said with a chuckle. “If only I had stuck around after the goblins first approached the Grove.”
Both men turned to look back at their companion, who was glaring at them both. If they had just met the vampire such a look would have intimidated them, but they were long since desensitized to such looks from him. “That brings us back to the main point at hand,” Gale said with a dramatic sigh. “What did Astarion exactly say or do to set off our most level-headed bardic leader, hmm?”
Astarion glared at them as they gave him their best shit-eating grins because they knew whatever it was they weren’t the target of Nikaia’s ire.
He huffed and sighed, but didn’t tell them to go away. Finally, Astarion mumbled, “I merely suggested we didn’t need to…be so helpful.”
Wyll narrowed his eyes, seeming to guess his true meaning before Gale did. Rather annoying that. “What do you mean by not being ‘so helpful’?”
“Ugh, I just mean that we don’t have to stop and help everyone that has stubbed their toe,” Astarion sneered, starting to pace once more, using his hands as he spoke. “Or…or get your clothes singed because someone needed help sitting up.”
“Are you talking about Benryn?” Wyll asked in disbelief. “The man who was literally trapped under burning pieces of a building and had just lost his wife in the goblin attack?”
Astarion waved his hand. “I don’t know what his name was.”
Gale rubbed his face in disbelief and could see why Nikaia was angry. He’d only known her for a short time, and while she could be a little chaotic he felt he had a firm idea of her character. Astarion trying to persuade her to go against that would seem a foolish task. Sadly, Gale seemed to be the resident camp expert when it came to foolish tasks that involved their lovers.
“Look, all I was trying to tell her...to have her understand is that not everyone deserves it.” Astarion gave them a smile that would normally read as charming, but the other two men saw through it, once again.
Wyll slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. His own forehead, not Astarion’s though he was tempted to do so. “Were you considered a smart man before you became a vampire?”
“I was a magistrate.”
“Does not answer my question.”
Gale stepped between them to redirect their attention. “What I think Wyll is trying to say is that surely you’d know by now Nikaia would think that everyone deserves a chance to be helped.”
Astarion let out a demented little giggle. “And I am here to tell you that just isn’t true.” He turned away from them.
Wyll huffed, clearly done with Astarion, “How so?”
“Because if it was, then why did no one ever come to help me?!” Astarion’s voice cracked as he screamed his words at them, turning quickly to face them, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he stared at them. Eyes never looked as red as they did then at that moment. “And I don’t know what is worse; knowing that Niki would have helped me if she knew or that she didn’t know and thus couldn’t help me. But nobody was there to help me, nobody came when I called for help! Not everyone deserves to be helped and the only one you can rely on is yourself. Even then that’s shaky at best.”
“Astarion,” Wyll started to say, putting his hand on his shoulder. Astarion shrugged it off.
“I’m going to go find myself dinner. If you’ll excuse me.” Astarion left before either of them could continue the conversation.
Night had already fallen by the time the rest of their party came back. They had encountered githyanki with a red dragon. Seemed as if they were looking for their little polyhedral artifact. Turns out that was the weapon everyone was looking for. Astarion hadn’t returned by the time they were all ready to rest for the night.
“When did he leave again?” Nikaia asked Gale once more. They were the only two up, waiting for their pale friend.
“It's been a while. I have a tracking spell scroll, if you’d like to use that,” Gale offered his friend.
She looked relieved at his suggestion. “Yes. I’m worried he’s gotten into some trouble.”
The wizard highly doubted that but didn’t voice it, seeing her green eyes dart with worry to the forest around them. He went to his tent, then Astarions to grab something of his. He helped her with the somatic portion of the spell, the verbal component she did well with. Once it was cast she was off. He tried to wait up to see if they made it back.
Halsin, who hadn’t been in camp during the two’s fight but had come back to hear about it and see Nikaia’s concern about Astarion, offered to wait up and let him know if they weren’t back by sunrise.
The druid never woke him and when he came out of his tent that morning to start breakfast for the camp, he saw Astarion’s tent flap closed and Nikaia’s boots outside it. Seemed the tracking spell had worked.