Chapter Text
“Do you mind?” Astarion asks, reclined back on his bedroll. “I was rather enjoying my view of the ceiling.”
“Oh, sorry,” Weiren says quickly. “Didn’t mean to disturb you. Was just um, checking in.”
“I’ll forgive you,” the pale rogue returns easily. “I’m mostly just thinking, anyway. Reflecting on what tomorrow might bring, when we find the druid.” His expression shifts as he ponders the future. “Will he know how to bring the worm under control? Will this little adventure of ours be over?”
Weiren considers him. Out of the companions gathered so far, he was by far the most volatile (barring Gale being inside an incredibly unstable sigil). He’d asked them for help and they obliged him, always interested assisting others. Astarion looked a skinny and frail figure, and if he feared for his life in dealing with one of those weird brains, of course they would protect him. After spotting the loose boar and sighing in relief, the back of their neck prickled with danger. They whipped around to see said frail elf with a dagger in hand in a combative stance, just about to attack.
Despite it all, they can’t say he’s been anything other than a lifesaver in the following battles that broke out on their journey to the druid grove. It’s only been a day and a half, and he’s proven himself a reliable ally in a short time, making them wonder how a magistrate came to have such skill in deftness. And for someone being very short on allies for most of their short elven life, the idea of their small group splitting up so soon doesn’t feel very good. Especially since they were taken from far, far away, from an entirely different continent. Here, they’re alone, and every single connection counts.
“It- it doesn’t have to be,” Weiren offers. “We can still travel together, at least, until I can find a way back home. I’m sure there will be many other hardships out there; the more the merrier, right?” As it is with everyone they’ve met, there’s more than meets the eye. Weiren hopes to befriend them all before it’s too late. Even if they have a very clear different set of morals.
“Good,” Astarion says, making them blink. He leans forward, tilting his head. “I don’t want you to run off, just yet.”
That’s probably a normal way to compliment a friend, they think, as he gets to his feet and takes a step closer, regarding them.
“You’re quite the ally, after all. Traversing Avernus. Surviving the crash. Surviving everything that’s followed… Well. I’m not easily impressed by people, but you’re stronger than I gave you credit for.” He gestures with his hand as he recounts what occurred just a scant few days ago. Weiren shrugs.
“I guess. Me and everyone else in this cave, but you’ve been way more impressive, all that darting around and those difficult shots,” they say, not sure they deserve much praise for what the man himself also survived. “Thanks though… um… I thought you didn’t like me.” Astarion often made a snide comment or disapproved of some of their actions, despite letting them lead the group in the first place.
“You have your charms,” he returns, raising a hand to his chin as he matches their gaze. “More than you think. You’re a heroic paladin, after all. Strong and righteous, though to a slightly annoying fault, you really are quite admirable.” His smile forms easily, as if it's been practiced a thousand times. Weiren doesn’t know if they can trust the sentiment, but they’re loath to shut down a potential moment of genuine connection.
“That’s kind,” they finally say, though they themself hardly believe it anyway, having struggled on their journey to being a paladin long and hard. “May I… uh-” They trail off as they gesture to the space behind him, blundering yet again as they can’t figure out a good way to naturally offer some company.
“A delicious thought, but…” Astarion muses, and his rejection is all but foreseen in their mind.
“Not like that!” Weiren hurries to correct themself, heat rushing to their face. “I’m just trying to get to know you better. And make friends! And…”
“Oh, don’t worry,” he says, amused. “Of course you are. But tonight’s not the time. Perhaps we may find the right moment…” His voice falters perfectly, as if on purpose. “I’m sorry. I… I need to clear my head. I’ll see you later, I’m sure. Sleep tight.” He waves goodbye, clearly dismissing them, and they nod stiffly as they turn away.
Mortifying. Weiren is going to replay that pathetic interaction on repeat for an hour, unless they can manage to focus their mind enough to meditate on other things. Astarion’s the one who misunderstood them in the first place, and yet it feels like they’re the one who messed up in some way. Gods.
//
“Hold on a minute,” they say, raising a hand. “Let me check something.”
After having been jumped by surprise skeletons the prior morning, Weiren has been playing it a bit safer. Before entering any other ruins or caves, they’re taking the chance to pray and spread out their sense, their deity guiding their mind to reach beyond what they can see, to probe into an aura around them.
“And what, pray tell, are you doing?” Astarion asks in a bored tone, weight shifted to one leg.
“I’m seeing if there’s anything bad before we enter,” Weiren answers. “I need to focus.” Their eyes close as their hands clasp around their amulet.
“Define bad?” He asks, voice distant.
“Probably undead,” Gale replies smartly. “They’re a paladin, after all.”
“A-oh! Right! Of course. Actually, I forgot something at our campsite, the lockpicking tools! We can hardly get through this door without them!”
The voices fade as the power of their deity fills them, sharpening their senses.
There. There’s something-
Behind them!
Their eyes fly open as they grip their holy symbol, concerned. There’s no undead past this stone door. Rather…
Weiren nearly chokes as they turn around, the sense fading as whatever undead was behind them flees. Incorporeal? Was it a ghost? It flickers just a moment later, and then is gone, the prayer spent.
“Where’s Astarion?” They ask after a second, looking left and right, scouring the environment.
“Back to camp,” Gale offers helpfully. “Poor lad forgot the tools. Makes me wish I’d learned the knock spell, but I never found myself needing that in my usual day-to-day. No matter, I’m sure I can find the time to add it to the book later.”
“Did you sense anything?” Shadowheart presses, almost cutting the wizard off.
“I- I thought I did, but I must have been wrong,” Weiren says awkwardly, looking down at the shorter woman. “Didn’t rest well last night, I’m a bit distracted. I think it’s clear.”
The half-elf stares as she considers them. Weiren sweats. Then, a nod.
“Alright. Well, once our forgetful rogue returns, I’m sure we’ll make short work of any threat we might encounter.” She glances into the foliage, where Astarion must have ran off, but her gaze returns to them a little too intently. They cough and set about rummaging in their pack for a waterskin.
That can’t be right. Unless he’s a magically-disguised zombie? Astarion looks too normal to be any undead, and he can hardly be a vampire; he’s been strutting around in broad daylight with the rest of them! He forded the rushing river easily! Weiren has studied the undead and even encountered other vampires (slayed one, even. And… well…), and this is conflicting with what they know. They’ve sensed vampires with their divine power, though they feel the same as any other undead.
Maybe… maybe it was a coincidence. Was it? Did their prayer mess up? But it could hardly be the fault of their deity. Maybe they just made a mistake. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Gods. Maybe a ghost is haunting him. Maybe a vampiric mist is using him as a host. They’ve seen such things before, even been afflicted with such a thing before (not pleasant, by the way).
Weiren settles with trying to act normal when Astarion returns ten minutes later, acting very suave and Astarion-like in a way that makes them second-guess themself even more (“No undead,” Shadowheart informs him while they nod as convincingly as possible). But they can’t stop glancing over, though they try to hide it. He does have some teeth sharper than usual, but it’s hard to tell when they can’t look closely. The other potential factor would be the temperature of his skin, but they can hardly find an appropriate way to test that.
They press on their temples as Astarion casually sets about unlocking the door before them. Their hand falls to their neck, rubbing absentmindedly at the two small scars that still remain there to this day.
Hells. If only their friends were here. Surely they’d have figured out what to do and navigated these challenges with more efficiency. Weiren would confide their worries to the three; and together they’d have come to a decision. They’re hardly close enough to any of these new allies to feel comfortable enough doing so, and they hate to put Astarion in a pinch when he’s only helped thus far.
Especially since Weiren has known decent vampires before. He could be perfectly harmless… right? Not that the one in their past was harmless in any capacity barring being at death’s door after a nearly-successful assassination.
Frozen in indecision, they choose to keep their mouth shut for the time being and set to clearing out this next area as they all make their way to find the druid.
Hells.
