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“So, you really don’t remember anything?” The thought horrified Karlach, yet Ikaryas shrugged his shoulder entirely unbothered. “Afraid not, my dear. I suppose things are closest the later it gets but I fear my daring backstory won’t provide entertainment any time soon.” The thought of forgetting all her early life, leaving only her time in the hells, when it was the thought of her parents or the other children she used to run around the streets with that helped to keep her going… Karlach leaned closer to her partner who immediately perked up at the move, his tail carefully wrapping around her leather-covered wrist, hugging her closer to him. Still, no sign of trouble disturbed his features as he contentedly hummed along to some little tune in his head. Perhaps she should be glad that he was not worrying himself sick with any unrecoverable thoughts. “So, no old flame I need to worry about, once we get back to the city?”, she decided to joke. Unexpectedly, Ikaryas stiffened for just a moment. “No, darling. None that I would recognize surely, even if they did survive so far and decide to stay in the city.”
Huh, odd. Karlach liked to think she was getting better at reading Ikaryas’ little quirks. She knew better than to assume he would be thoroughly honest with her but the wording just then had clearly been…off. “So there was someone, you simply can’t remember?” She did her best to keep her voice free of accusation. She wasn’t one to get jealous over someone like that, certainly not anyone her partner could scarcely remember, let alone re-encounter. Thankfully, Ikaryas took no offence with her inquiry, simply sitting up again and staring off into the distance with a thoughtful look.
“I can’t recall a detail about him, to be entirely honest. All I still know are the sensations which overtook me whenever we were together. How I loved to drive my fingers through his hair and how his eyes shone whenever the light of the candles hit them just so. I cannot recall the sound of his laughter but I swear my heart still quickens at the simple thought of it”, he looked back at her sheepishly, as If he had forgotten her presence for a moment, “Not to worry, my heart. I gush about you far worse in front of the others.”
Karlach wasn’t worried and she certainly was not jealous. If Ikaryas regarded her with any of the same adoration he granted this stranger of his memories…she counted herself lucky, meeting someone who loved so fully and truly.
“I did not intent to trouble you such”, Ikaryas leaned back in. “You didn’t”, the warmth which bloomed entirely unrelated to her engine drew a smile to her face, “I’m glad you had someone who cared about you.” “Yeah.” For just a moment she could catch a conflicted storm of emotions passing across Ikaryas’ face, before he fell back with a sigh, the content smile from before settled comfortably on his lips again.
Ever since Karlach had shared her late-night conversation with Ikaryas with him, Wyll had gathered an ever-growing suspicion. Now, while he never made others’ relationships his business, Ikaryas had grown rather dear to him and Wyll liked to think that the other man shared the sentiment, if his continued affection were anything to go by. Affections which, while gladly dealt to the rest of their companions, rarely seemed as genuine as when they regarded Karlach or him. Well, him, Karlach and Astarion, to be entirely honest with himself. Which brought Wyll back to his suspicions.
He would never discredit Astarion’s attempts of annoying every member of their party and make known his displeasure with their ‘needless heroics’ at any given opportunity. As far as Wyll was concerned, he would be happy to leave the elf to his whining and do his best to ignore the biting complains. Except Ikaryas did not seem to share his sentiment and while the man had a tendency to come across as over-excited and strange, he rarely carried himself with the curt cruelty which Astarion liked to pose. Yet any sharp-tongued remarks were waved off with an easy laugh, mirthful eyes twinkling at what Ikaryas seemed to perceive as little more than jokes. And more surprising than that ignorance was the fact that Astarion seemed to share the sentiment. Oh, he was by no means nice but his barbs never quite reached the precipice as they did when talking when any of the others and a hit for another idiocy came quick and sharp before the man stalked off, muttering under his breath instead of throwing the words right into their leader’s face. The fact of the hit at all…Astarion hardly sought out physical contact, clearly preferring to rely on his words and any backhanded advantage before charging into any situation. He kept his distance from all of them, in any sense of the word, yet he almost seemed to anticipate Ikaryas’ movement when the Tiefling settled down next to him for the evening. A tail wrapped around the ankle was readily accepted, as was the occasional horn-to-head bump when everyone left for their own tent. Wyll did not want to presume anything of the emotional state of his companions but Astarion was clearly fond of Ikaryas.
“Fond is perhaps too big of a word”, Gale interjected from where he had been following his observations, “For Astarion, that is. Like, perhaps, or tolerate.” Wyll shook his head, “Tolerating is what he is towards us, my friend. He likes Karlach…perhaps Shadowheart, it is hard to tell with the two.” They looked over at where the two aforementioned were bickering over the supply crate. The threat of a good stabbing must have recently fallen as their voices rose, yet no knife in sight. Perhaps they were growing softer. “No, he is fond of him, I’m sure.” “You know, not every relationship has to end like one of your romance novels.” Karlach’s voice behind him almost made Wyll fall off the log with how fast he turned to face her. The woman grinned down at him, before inviting herself into their little gossip session observation exchange. “I am well aware”, Wyll acquiesced, “Still, it is a rather notable change of character, don’t you think?” Karlach looked over to where Astarion had stormed off, Shadowheart victoriously shaking a vial of dye. “Never said I disagreed with you, Wyll. Worst part is, I don’t think he means to be this obvious.” That much was apparent. The three of them watched in silence as Ikaryas settled in next to Astarion, a journal in hand, his tail wagging behind him. “Do you think Ikaryas knows?” “He has to, right? With how they have been behaving around each other?” “I wouldn’t count on it”, Karlach interjected, “Ikaryas does not know what to do with his emotions half of the time. They’re too much for his little body sometimes, I think. And then they just pour out.” Ikaryas had started reading the journal aloud. Not his own then. Every once in a while, he looked up at where Astarion was lounging in the sun, making quips about whatever poor stranger’s heart they were dragging through the dirt right now. There was an odd look in his eyes, the same one he held when he looked at Karlach, the stars, the campfire and- as he had been informed- Wyll.
“You know what I think?”, Karlach’s voice had dropped to a whisper and they had to lean in to hear her, making them look properly conspiratory, “I think Astarion’s the bloke from Ikaryas’ memory.” The declaration brought churning thoughts to a grinding halt. The idea had entered his mind before, Wyll had to admit, but even his late-night musings never strayed any further. It would have blown the situation far out of the territory of a little affection and into something which Wyll had not dared to think about. “Truly?” “Yeah”, Karlach chewed on her lower lip in contemplation, “He showed me, some nights ago. I get why he never talks about his memories, it’s a mess in there. More…abstract thought than anything, honestly kinda hard to put into words. He did a pretty good job of it though. Wyll, I felt it.” She turned to him and Wyll was startled to catch tears shining in his eyes. “He showed me a memory of us, not sure if he meant to. It was so warm, everywhere. But not like the hells, more of a nice campfire, with laughter and song…that’s what it felt like. Like I said, kind of hard to explain.” But Wyll got it, felt the warmth spread through his own chest as she described it. Comfort, it felt like, and wasn’t that a wonderful way to feel about someone?
“Point is, the older memories, with the guy, felt so similar. Bit wilder but I don’t know if that’s just the memories or if that’s what it feels like for him”, she threw another look over at the tents but Ikaryas had yet to move, “I don’t think he saw what I saw. Must be hard, trying to sort through your memories when it’s all jumbled up. Gives him a right headache too, poor guy, so it makes it harder for him to really look, instead of feeling the memories…did that make sense?” They nodded along in silent contemplation. “Then what did you see?”, Gale inquired, trying hard to balance his academic interest at the complex topic and hide his need for gossip information. “Could just show you?” Wyll hesitated. They had not made much use of the tadpoles for obvious safety concerns but they had practiced. A quick picture surely should not be an issue. Ikaryas and Karlach had done just fine, after all.
Upon his agreement, Karlach closed her eyes, drawing the shared memory to the forefront of her mind. Then, an image flooded Wyll’s mind.
It was only a still picture, a moment frozen somewhere in time. Their surroundings were obscured, warm dimmed light flickering in the background of some undistinguishable tavern room. The focus of Ikaryas’ gaze was trained on the person in front of him, a thin elegant man. The figure was incredibly blurred yet certain parts of him seemed clearer than others. Wyll could make out carefully coiffed curls of white hair tucked behind pointed ears. Pale slender fingers swirled a goblet of presumably wine, as the mouth stretched into a coy smile. The majority of his face was obscured by the veil of time yet Wyll somehow knew that the eyes were reflecting golden in the shine of the candles but that it wasn’t their actual color. The scene was devoid of sound, the only sensations those still clinging to the memory through deep emotion. Wyll soaked in the warmth which enveloped Ikaryas at the sight of the man, playful adoration and security painting a peculiar comfort which quickened his heartbeat.
Once Wyll had retreated from the memory, his mind cleared for some necessary observation: While somewhat indistinguishable, the color and style of the hair were as familiar to him as the hand which was currently holding a goblet across camp. Even the way those lips had quirked up in mischievous amusement was intimately known to him; he had spent enough weeks bearing witness to Astarion’s quips.
“I fear you may just be right”, he finally broke the silence. “Now what?” “Now nothing”, Karlach said, “We already know more than we’re supposed to. I’m sure Astarion’s had his reasons for keeping quiet about it till now. I hope he comes clear about it soon, sure, but for now, we’ll let them go at their own pace.” Wyll could not quite bring himself to share her faith in the elf, for a number of reasons. While Astarion liked to pretend like he had everything figured out, he was fooling his way through every interaction with Ikaryas, as far as Wyll was concerned, and he had little reason to believe the other man wanted to change that any time soon. He would simply have to encourage him, then. The longer this façade went on, the worse it would end.