Chapter Text
Astarion loathed many things about the Feirefitz house. He had grown to tolerate all – well, most – of the people who lived inside it, but the building itself bothered him to no end. It was old, nearly as old as he was, and it was clear that Valora’s father had put a decent amount of coin into maintaining it. Where everyone else seemed to see quirks, Astarion saw hazards and pitfalls. Cracks in the foundation of its very being. This was something symbolic, for that he was certain, but Astarion couldn’t put a clawed finger on what exactly it symbolized. He had assumed that people of the future would be less keen on the upkeep of older architecture and would be more interested in starting anew. But alas, just like many things in his long unlife, Astarion was woefully incorrect.
Being incorrect had become his new normal, and Astarion found it immensely difficult to accept that he was constantly incorrect. It wasn’t just the little things, like the spelling of words – shoppe becoming shop, for example – but nearly each and every facet of life. Recently, at the library, Valora informed him that his thieves’ cant dialect was archaic and near unintelligible.
At least, that’s how Astarion tried to interpret it, anyways.
“You want me to pass you my what?” Valora sat opposite him, speaking in a hushed tone. Her expression was incredulous as she stared at him with both palms flat on the bluewood table. Confusion swirled around within Astarion’s core – he hadn’t asked her anything out of the ordinary.
“Is it no longer reasonable to sign thieves’ cant in a library?” Astarion raised a silver brow. “I’m asking for the book on your left. The novel?”
Astarion lifted up his hands and repeated his question, making the same motions as he did before. “Pass” was signed with an upwards swoosh of his left pinky. “Me” was represented by his two palms coming together in a silent clapping motion. “Book” involved twisting his right wrist towards him. Judging by Valora’s horrified expression, repeating his thieves’ cant was not the correct call on his part.
Valora’s amethyst eyes darted back and forth, looking to see if there were others around them. She looked relieved as she realized that they were alone, albeit a little flustered. Her cheeks were tinted with a light pink hue. Though Astarion knew that he should be more focused on the conversation at hand, he couldn’t help but notice how cute she looked when she was frazzled.
“Don’t – okay, don’t –” Valora placed her hands on his, gently anchoring them to the table. Her palms were soft and warmer than his. “ – You are so, so lucky that we’re alone. Holy shit. Please don’t sign that in public ever again.”
“I – ah, I promise.” Astarion felt a bit embarrassed. If he could, he would have leapt into the book in question and hid between the pages. He didn’t ask what she thought he said. Judging by her expression, Valora probably wouldn’t tell him. “Which — which part?”
As fast as she possibly could, Valora performed the sign that Astarion knew as “book.” Just as he predicted, she stayed silent, which drove him mad. How was he supposed to know what the sign meant, if not book? He rolled his eyes and reached over the table, grabbing the book himself.
Valora had aptly described his recent behavior as being in a funk. This so-called funk had plagued him for the past tenday, and had been eating at his very being. Astarion felt like an apple being hollowed out by a particularly carnivorous worm, piece by piece. Each piece of him that was eaten by the worm further shoved his ego down and made it easier for him to assimilate in this new world. After all, it was easier to keep one’s head hung low and continue pushing forward, rather than to stick out.
Astarion was broken from his chain of ‘woe-is-me’ thoughts by Valora’s voice. While her voice was pleasant as a summer breeze, the way that she enunciated her words was something else entirely. The drow spoke with a mouth full of marbles, and Astarion could not figure out why. He had met few drow in his long unlife, and had met less in the present day, but from what he could remember none of them said naur instead of no. Occasionally, her unique pronunciation of words would float around in his head, resonating within him. He quite enjoyed how she said his name, though he’d never tell her.
Ahh-starrr-eee-yuuun.
“So! It’s still rainy out, so the pool’s a no-go, unfortunately. But, good news – my evening shift got canceled! Which, like, literally thank the gods, I would rather die than leave the house, but that means I have more free time than we originally anticipated, so we can hang out longer. That is, if you’re still interested in hanging out with me.”
Astarion blinked. As he was suddenly cast out of the recesses of his own mind, he realized that he was seated in the living room, underneath a brown cable knit blanket. He was curled up with his library book laid on his lap, the very same tome that was the subject of the thieves’ cant debacle. Astarion looked up from the page – he hadn’t even realized that he had been reading.
Hopefully I wasn’t out for very long, Astarion thought. He had been lost in his own memories many times before, and it usually took him a moment to gather his bearings.
“Hm? Sorry, Vally, could you repeat that?”
Valora scoffed and rolled her eyes upwards, crossing her arms over her chest. Astarion had lived with her just long enough to realize that Valora never hid her emotions. That made sense, considering her wild magic.
“Are you listening to me?” She asked, head cocked to the right.
He hadn’t been. Not in the slightest. Valora turned back to look at him and frowned, wearing disappointment like a mask. Astarion felt a strange pang in his chest, as if a thread was being pulled. He didn’t like disappointing her, and wasn’t entirely sure as to why.
“Apologies,” Astarion offered a weak smile. Valora’s frown didn’t falter, and Astarion felt the tug of the thread, although this time it was harder. “Please… go on.”
He closed the book and placed it on the coffee table and pulled the blanket off of his body. This blanket left small fuzzies – one of Valora’s many whimsical colloquialisms – all over his clean trousers, and Astarion could feel his eyebrows knit together in frustration. He pinched his pointer and thumb together on his dominant hand and brought his claws close together, picking away at the fuzzies.
“Well, I was saying that my shift got canceled –”
“Shadowheart let you take the evening off?” Astarion huffed a laugh, interrupting her. “That’s quite out-of-character, don’t you think?”
“ – I know, right? I wasn’t expecting it either. I guess she got the okay from upper management to close early. We’ve been super, super slow this whole week. Which makes sense, considering that this week’s smoothie flavors have been… I don’t know, nasty? Seriously, who mixes peaches and pickleberry? Yuck.”
Valora stuck out her tongue for emphasis, making a bleh sound.
“Anyways, I didn’t ask more questions ‘cause I was afraid that she’d, like, change her mind. I don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, as they say. But…”
Astarion felt his mind begin to wander while she talked and focused on removing every single fuzzie off of his body. Valora seemingly hadn’t noticed his wandering as she continued to blabber on. One thing he appreciated about her was how she could fill in all the space in a room when he didn’t have the energy for it. Which was more often than he’d like to admit.
“ …I’m not against swimming in the rain, but I’m a little afraid of lightning. Don’t tell anyone, though. I mean, my lightning is one thing. You – ah, you know that.”
Astarion noticed Valora’s ears lower as she mentioned her magic. He was introduced to her magic before he was properly introduced to her, and Valora clearly carried guilt over it.
“Right, right. Of course. I’m sworn to secrecy.” Astarion had the passing thought to cross his heart, but was worried that the motion would have an unintended consequence. He plucked a particularly large fuzzie off of his left thigh and flicked it towards the shag carpet. “Well, if we’re not going swimming, then what did you have in mind?”
It’s not like he had anything better to do, and besides, Astarion greatly enjoyed spending time with Valora. She tried to keep the two of them to a “hang-out schedule” as she called it. Every tenday they’d have an outing in the city, an outing outdoors, and an outing of Astarion’s choice. Valora was dedicated to helping him get his footing in 2013, and in her words, hobbies and activities were important and good for the body, mind, and spirit. He wasn’t entirely sure if he had a spirit anymore, but Valora seemed to think that he did. That counted for something.
“Hmm…” Valora paused to think and rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. Astarion silently watched her, taking in her casual wear. She wore a long, wooly grey cardigan overtop a white camisole that barely covered her light denim shorts. It made little sense to Astarion why she’d wear a cardigan, shorts, and tights, but at this point, what did he know?
“Well, I picked up a new record when I went to the shops today –”
Astarion frowned, and felt his ears droop. He couldn’t pinpoint his exact feelings towards Valora going to the shops without him, but it didn’t feel good. “You went to the shops without me?”
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to come. I saw you sitting in the garden when I was getting ready to leave. You looked like you were having an awful morning, sitting there on the porch, staring off into the forest.”
Valora had this way of pointing out things about people but never extrapolating on it. Astarion assumed this behavior was picked up from her father – who had the exact same godsawful habit.
“You were watching me?” Astarion’s tone was sharp and defensive. A little more defensive than he originally intended. He bit his tongue, hard.
“What?” She blinked twice, staring at him. “I wasn’t watching you. I looked outside the kitchen window before I left. I thought Snowball was outside – I wasn’t watching you, Astarion. I don’t watch people.”
A pregnant pause passed over the two of them, and Valora crossed her arms tighter over her body. Astarion could only imagine what she was thinking, judging by her frustrated expression. He sunk his teeth harder into his tongue in a feeble effort to redirect his thoughts.
There’s no need to be such a menace. She’s only trying to be kind. Get it together.
Before he had the chance to apologize, Valora began to leave the room, talking as she walked. “Whenever you decide to be in a better mood, I’ll be upstairs. Bring tea – and those little biscuits I like.”