I did so many edits and rewrites for my durge/astarion - durge/gortash fic and I'm loving the voice I've managed to create for my vampire babygirl Astarion
Ever since Astarion had joined up with Violet and the rest of their little parasite-ridden band of weirdos, he had debated which of his companions was the most insufferable. Which, given the competition, was no easy feat. Tonight, however, Gale and Karlach were unbitten neck and neck.
“Did you see Violet’s eyes when Mayrina said she was going to give the hag her baby?” Karlach shuddered, rubbing her arms as if to chase away the memory. “I swear, for a second, I thought she was going to—”
The tiefling wasn't wrong.
It was the same look Violet had worn right before she'd kicked that tiny, furry little snack pack he'd been perfectly prepared to eat if she hadn't gotten there first.
Something he’d remind her of — repeatedly — just to have her argue that letting him feed on her more than made up for it.
Astarion had never met someone who could meet him blow for blow, flirt for flirt, quip for quip, before.
It would've been annoying if it wasn't so entertaining.
He was used to people who preened, fawned, or shied beneath his attention.
“Kill her?” Gale scoffed, placing his hands on his hips. “Really, Karlach. I’m surprised at you. Violet can be a tad impulsive, yes—”
Violet did none of those things. Instead, she treated him as though they were playing the same game. Which, given whatever this little push and pull between them was, was probably as good a description as any.
Astarion snorted, earning a glare from both wizard and tiefling alike.
A tad impulsive. Right. And Astarion was merely a tad undead.
Violet was not a tad anything. She was all or nothing. There was no middle ground with her.
Every action. Every emotion. Every terrible idea pursued with absolute conviction. There was never anything half-hearted about it.
Whatever enchantment Gale had fallen under in his sad, hopeless pursuit of romancing their self-appointed leader had clearly robbed him of all sense.
Really, what use was a wizard if all of their accumulated knowledge and intelligence could be undone by a single woman.
A rather unnervingly attractive woman, admittedly, but that was hardly the point.
“But she’s not a killer,” Gale continued, his features softening as he turned his attention back to Karlach. “She’s many things, but not that. What you saw was fear, perhaps pain—but not intent.”
Gods, the wizard had it worse than he'd thought.
If the parasite didn't kill him, Violet very well might.
Astarion understood, of course. He had eyes. But Gale was only looking at one side of her.
But he saw her. All of her. The edges, the cracks, the holes…
Gods, but he’d like to see a few more of those...
But, for all of Violet’s confidence, she was all flirt and no follow-through, and he was starting to take it personally. Really, there was only so much teasing one could take before it became cruel.
Not that he'd ever admit as much.
Especially for someone who'd spent centuries pretending to want what he never did—only to finally mean it and be denied.
It was torture. Surely there was a bard somewhere who had composed a tragic ballad about exactly this sort of suffering.
A maiden did flirt by the fire,
Awakening all manner of desire.
Leaving him to his plight,
Whilst his loins suffered something quite dire.
Karlach groaned, nose wrinkling. “You’re just saying that because you like her.”
“W-what?!” Gale stammered, face filling with blood. Such a waste, really, with all that Netherese magic inside him. “How I feel about Violet is entirely besides the point.”
“You’re right,” Karlach snapped, tail flicking in irritation. “It’s not. But I know murder eyes when I see 'em.”
Murder eyes wouldn't be how Astarion put it.
Then again, objectivity had become increasingly difficult where Violet was concerned.
“You just don’t know her well enough yet,” Gale said, in that familiar calm but slightly condescending tone of his. “You just joined us. Give it some time. I’m sure that you’ll come to see—”
“What are you all talking about?” Shadowheart asked, eyes narrowing as they flicked between Karlach, Gale, and Astarion.
Gods, she was suspicious.
Which, for a Sharran, was rather rich.
“Violet’s murder eyes,” Karlach replied just as Gale said, “A gross mischaracterization of Violet.”
“Oh.” Shadowheart relaxed immediately. “She definitely has murder eyes.”
Gale lifted a finger to object when Lae'zel appeared behind Shadowheart. “What are you all wasting time and standing around talking about?”
“Violet's murder eyes,” Shadowheart answered, stepping aside to make room for Lae'zel.
Nearly murdering one another seemed to do wonders for their budding…. whatever.
“Murder eyes,” Lae'zel repeated, before giving a decisive nod. “That is an accurate description.”
“Gods,” Gale groaned. “Not you too.”
“Astarion,” Karlach said, pointing at him. “Help us settle the debate. Does Violet have murder eyes?”
Four pairs of eyes turned towards him, one narrowing once again in that irritatingly perceptive way Shadowheart had.
“Oh, please,” she scoffed. “You can't ask him. He's just as bad as Gale.”
“Excuse me,” Astarion sputtered, affronted. How had he been dragged into this little debate? “What in the Nine Hells is that supposed to mean?”
“What Shadowheart means is that you are no more objective than he is,” Lae'zel said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I don’t have to be entirely objective to know that Violet is a good person,” Gale snapped. “Might I remind you, Lae'zel, that Violet not only helped you escape the nautiloid but rescued you from that trap?” He turned a glare toward Shadowheart. “And she released you from your pod and allowed you to remain with us even after learning you worship Shar.” Then he turned toward Karlach. “And she volunteered to face a paladin of Tyr for someone who was, at the time, a complete stranger.”
He looked between them all. “Does that sound like the sort of person eager to commit murder?”
“Well, she did murder that poor Dragonborn bard,” Wyll chimed in from behind Gale. “So I wouldn't say Violet is entirely incapable of committing murder.”
Gale pinched the bridge of his nose. “There is simply no winning with you people.” He let out a long sigh. “I'm sure Violet is already beating herself up over what happened.”
His gaze drifted toward the treeline where Violet had disappeared.
“Perhaps I should go check on her. I'm sure she could use a reassuring presence after all that unpleasantness.”
Astarion narrowed his eyes.
The competition was over.
Sound the trumpets, hoist the banners, and cue the applause for Faerun's most insufferable wizard.
Gods. There was no way in the Nine Hells he was letting Gale anywhere near Violet when she was like this.
Hells, he wasn't entirely convinced he should be anywhere near her when she was like this.
The first time it had happened, he'd found her at their make-out spot with a bundle of bedrolls and blankets, tucked into them like a bird in its nest—small, quiet, and oh so vulnerable.
That was, of course, until she'd pulled a knife on him.
But really, that was just flirting. He thinks…
They needed the wizard, and while watching his murderous little flower kill him would be as entertaining as it would be gratifying, it would also be... terribly inconvenient.
Violet would do her whole murder thing. Gale would die. Astarion would laugh. Violet would feel guilty and retreat to her nest, leaving him to deal with the fallout from the rest of their companions, who would be significantly less amused by her blade-waving antics than him.
It would become an entire thing.
“No need to strain yourself, Gale,” Astarion said, giving a lazy wave of his hand as he started toward the spot where he and Violet usually met. “I'll check on her. I'm sure being resurrected twice in a week has done a number on you.”
Gale scoffed. “I'll remind you that one of those was because of you.”
“Oh, semantics,” Astarion said, feigning innocence. “You didn’t stay dead, did you? Honestly, some people hold the smallest grudges. I was the one who used the resurrection scroll, you know. You should be thanking me.”
“Thanking you?” Gale repeated, incredulous. “Forgive me if gratitude isn't my first instinct when you're the reason the scroll was necessary in the first place.”
prguitarman
dailybridgerton
discoholicmusic
romaincrisis
turnnoffyourmind
dededos
pixelskylines
tangentwithtanner
