One of One: Part 1
Summary - It's been two months since Astarion has left your camp since that night in Cazador's palace where everything went wrong. In the events of severely misguided judgement you find yourself bleeding out in a dark alley, in his arms one last time, spending your last fleeting moments with him.
Tags - Hurt / comfort, angst, depictions of death and dying, happy ending, vampire tav, nb tav
Notes - I accidentally picked the wrong option when trying to talk Astarion out of the ascension, and got told to die before he left my party forever. Me and my sister couldn't stop thinking about him regretting his actions once he came back to his senses and soon after this piece was born. I wanted it to be a short 3k piece, but as always I went overboard. There will be a part 2, but hopefully for now this will suffice.
Word Count - 5,832
AO3 Link
“I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.”
He left, and he was gone. You tried to not act like a dog, a lovesick puppy waiting for its owner to return home, but you couldn’t help yourself. Ever since that night in Cazador’s palace, your dreams had been filled with nightmares, and wishes that had yet to come true. Waking up to find the red tent adorned with gaudy pillows and spilled goblets of blood that you loved oh so much, back in the place that it belonged in your camp. But instead, all that laid was an empty spot where the drops of rain soaked the ground underneath leaving a stench of mud and rocks. Completely washing away whatever of Astarion’s scent used to linger.
It was because of that empty spot, the more you looked at it, the more your head span. You could only focus on your mistakes of that night, and everything that went wrong. If only you had tried harder . There could have been better words to say, now that everything was over and done with. Hindsight was 20/20, but in the moment it seemed like every thought, every word died out on the tip of your tongue as fast as you tried to will them out of your mouth.
In front of you, was someone you loved, overcome with want and power. So toxic that it clung to the air in thick waves in a way that made the blood spilled from the enemies just defeated more potent than before. When you found yourself staring into Astarion’s eyes, you couldn’t see the man that you were talking to outside the palace a few hours prior. His eyes now bright with bloodlust, yet empty…with something else, lying there underneath the surface. Something you couldn’t quite pick out as much as you tried. And as you stared at him, trying to decipher it, Astarion just stared back…begging, in a voice so demanding, yet childlike…so desperate.
The emotions flooding the room, the thoughts clouding your head, it was too much for you to wrap your head around. Fear clogged up your throat, and airways, making the simplest breaths the hardest to gasp for. You couldn’t find rhyme or reason to deny him. There was no logic in your brain that could describe why this was wrong , you just knew it was.
Instead of trying to reason, to beg, to reach out to that scared boy trapped in a body adorned with 200 years worth of scars, you stood still, and denied. Giving no reason, just your feet planted firmly on the ground, not even finding it in yourself to move or reach out.
And he begged . He begged even harder than he had before…the softest ‘ please ’ falling from his lips.
Yet you still found yourself saying no.
Then it was all over. You watched as Astarion dug his fangs into Cazador’s neck, drinking up his blood before driving a knife into his heart over and over and over again, screaming with every pierce and new puncture wound. All that was left was a room stained in blood, and anguished cries that pierced your heart so deep you found pressure building behind your eyes, threatening to let loose as well. And what came after were words filled with hatred, an expression forever burned into your memory that you still see it every time you close your eyes.
‘ I’m done with you. I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.’
You tried, you really did try to get Astarion back after that. Your feet were finally able to move, and you pushed them as hard as you could, as fast as you could go. Your hands outstretched, trying to grab onto his shoulder, arm- the waistline of his pants. But he didn’t care, he didn’t even spare you a look; just carelessly shoved you off of him and left.
That was the last time you had seen him.
You don’t have the exact date of the last time you saw him, but it had to have been at least a month by now…maybe two. With Astarion’s bright and sardonic personality missing from the camp, it seemed like the days had started to blend together. While you still had the rest of your party, and you were thankful they were alive and well, you couldn’t bring yourself to care when you had driven out the one person you cared for most.
Since then, you had become brash, reckless, and careless. A part of you couldn’t tell if it's because you wanted to punish yourself for being a horrible leader, or if you’d simply lost the ability to care about the world saving adventure you had found yourself on.
Lae’Zel had already had more than a few choice words for you, and recently it seems they were getting stronger and more rude as time went on and the more you kept messing up. Everyone else barely bit their tongues either. Even someone like Shadowheart who had been with you when it happened, getting a first hand show at the fight that took place, was starting to get fed up with you. Her temper becoming shorter, until she had finally found you and cornered you against a wall in camp last night.
“We’re all going through our own problems while also having to deal with the Absolute, and you have been nothing but supportive and helping with everyone here- I’d probably be dead without your guidance.”
She started off, it was something small and sweet, which only made you dread her words when she continued the rest of her sentence.
“And I want to be there for you too while you deal with your own pain- but quite frankly, you’re going to get us killed at this point. I didn’t make it this far to have someone make some brain dead decisions right at the end.
I am more willing to lend an ear, to help in whatever way I can, but if you don’t reach out and proceed on this suicide mission then I’m out…and I’m sure a lot of the others are going to be too.”
There was a pause of silence, you could barely meet her eyes, let alone reply. Whatever choice she gave you to reply and defend yourself, you didn’t take. You just let her keep going.
“I don’t know what you and Astarion had going on, but it was obviously something very special. It sucks that he’s not around anymore, but if you let this cost your life- cost everything we have worked for up to this point - then I have severely misjudged your intelligence and your priorities. Get it together.”
With her lecture out of the way, she was gone, stalking off back towards her tent.
You couldn’t even find it in yourself to be angry at her words and accusations. Because she wasn’t wrong. And you had been anything but a leader for the past few months, yet somehow your team stayed. Though all those thoughts met little nothing to now and you wished it did.
-
It was another day, or night technically, and it had been one of the best ones in awhile. Taking Shadowheart’s words into consideration, you tried your best to be better. It was obvious your mind still wasn’t in it all the way, but at least the day had passed without any misjudged bow shots into your teammates backs instead of the enemies; or conversations that turned into fights when they could’ve easily been schmoozed out of.
Dinner had recently ended, and everyone had retreated to their tents or their cots for the night. You found yourself on your back, staring absently at the night sky, heavy with dark rain clouds, threatening to spill torrential rain at any second. The cold chill of an upcoming storm was already blowing itself through camps, lifting up tarps and trying its best to put out the campfire. You were already restless tonight, but the howling of the wind only made it worse. Every sharp sting of air flying past you and biting at your face only made it harder, every time you tried to slip your head under the blanket you just ended up feeling claustrophobic and suffocated. There was no winning.
So you were left with your head outside, facing the cold night. Every few minutes you would toss back and forth on your sides, and on your back. You’d sit up, fluff your pillow, and lay back down somehow more uncomfortable than before. You did everything from trying to count sheep, to singing your favorite songs in your head to get yourself to relax. After a couple hours though, it was no use. The rain started not long ago, but the soft pitter of the drops on the ground was a hindrance to your focus on sleeping instead of a welcomed white noise. When it was obvious that you weren’t sleeping for a while, you saw no point in keeping on trying. The fire has burnt down to its bare embers, it was cold and dark and suddenly you were craving the warmth of the indoors and maybe an alcoholic drink to really warm the cold emptiness that lingers inside your chest.
It's with that thought that creeps up and lingers in your brain for the majority of the hour that finally gets you up, urging you to slip on your shoes and grab your backpack, slipping in some gold and your journal. Your camp clothes will have to do for now, as you don’t see much of a point to get properly dressed in your gear to go sit down and drink somewhere. It’s after you have everything packed up when you grab a hooded cloak from your chest and leave the camp quietly, adventuring back to the lower city.
You arrive at the pub just in time for the rain to change from a steady downpour of small drops to a cacophony of large wet globs pelting against the windows and roof top, making itself heard even over the cheering and loud laughter of everyone's drunken banter. You slip inside easily enough, removing your hood once you’re fully inside. It only takes a moment to take in the sight in front of the you- red faced patrons clinking their mugs and letting sour liquid spill onto their hands. The strong scent of alcohol seeping from everyone's breaths mixed with the fresh cooked food swimming through the air. There’s a mixture of singing and dancing as everyone is in high spirits, but also hushed, serious conversations taking place in the corner of the room. Passed out strangers, sleeping away the night with their head in their arms at the tables tucked away.
This was perfect.
Busy enough that the background of people will keep your mind from wandering to unwanted thoughts. It also meant no one would pay attention to you.
“What will it be?” The bartender asks as you make your way up to the counter. Her lips are pursed, she looks tired, and a bit on edge. It was obvious her shift had been going on for too long, but she was trying her best to keep a friendly facade up.
“Rum.” You speak back plainly, as you drop a bag of gold on the counter. “The entire bottle preferably.”
She nods, not even giving any cheeky commentary akin to ‘rough day?’ like you would expect someone to comment when buying a whole bottle of alcohol for yourself. Instead she grabs the bottle from under the counter and slams it down with a silver cup before pocketing the gold pieces handed to her.
“Holler if you need anything, dear,” She draws out in a slow and monotone voice.
You don’t bother saying anything else to her as you grab the neck of the bottle and the handle of the cup before making your way to a dark quiet corner of the tavern and sitting yourself on one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs. You make sure to get your space set up before you crack open the lid on the bottle. Pulling out your journal and the small portable jar of ink and quill you brought before finally pouring your first drink.
You take a deep breath, steady yourself as the deep liquid looks back at you. For a second you swear you can see your reflection in the liquid, empty eyes, dark bags, a hideous frown. It just gives you more of an incentive to drink, to forget for just a little bit.
Down the hatch.
With a deep breath, you gulp down the first shot of rum and suppress a shudder at the pungent taste, how it burns your throat and thickly coats your mouth in consistency of syrup, yet tastes like stale sugar. You take pleasure in the warmth that soon comes after though, spreading from your core to your hands and feet. You can already feel the pleasant tingle of your nerves finally relaxing, of your body accepting the alcohol as a substitute for a human’s touch, like the big hug you’ve been yearning for.
You can’t help but take another shot right away.
-
If you’re being honest, you can’t tell how much time has passed. It’s had to at least have been an hour or two, maybe more. The tavern had cleared out a little bit, but it was still quite busy. Even with a few less faces, the chatting and laughter seemed to be louder than when you first entered. It doesn’t bother you, you had quickly let it become background noise as you buried yourself in your journal and shots of Rum.
Already the bottle was a 4th gone, and while you felt pretty coherent at the moment you could tell that the effects would be hitting you sooner than later. It was only at this point in your tipsy state that you realized maybe you should’ve left a note at camp or something, in case you couldn’t find your way back there tonight.
It was fine.
Your body had a good auto pilot, it was good at getting where it needed to be even when you didn’t know what was going on.
The thought quickly fades as you pour yourself another drink and gulp it down, before going back to cataloging your thoughts on paper.
-
You’re wet.
Wet with rain.
But not just rain.
There’s something else there.
Thick, reeking of copper, and metal.
You cough and more of it spits up, overwhelming your senses as you empty the contents onto the ground in front of you.
Red, so much red. More red than you have ever remembered coughing up before in battle.
That’s when the dread finally washes over you like a harsh slap to the face. It is more sobering than any other remedy you have ever tried in your life. It’s then you go from barely existing in reality, seeing everything through a blurred lens to being too aware of everything around you, snapping back into yourself like you never have done before.
You’re outside, far away from the tavern, but still in the Lower City. You barely recognize where you are, but if you had to guess you were trying to make it back to camp, but not doing a good job at it. With every step your whole body shakes. Putting weight on your ankle makes you want to topple over. It has to be at least sprained, if not broken. You pull out your hands to examine them and instantly notice they’re swollen. Red, puffy, knuckles, sporting drops of blood from the small cracks in the skin. Your head pounds not unlike when getting your head smashed into a wall, and lifting your hand up to your head you can feel a bump before you hiss at the pain of touching the blossoming bruises starting to take place.
This wasn’t good.
From the small amount of damage you could assess on your body you could already tell this was bad.
You feel like you’re on death's doorstep, moments away from collapsing and perishing in the streets. Every small shuffle with your feet feels like you were pushing your body to its extreme limits and pretty soon it was about to give up.
There’s no way to heal yourself, you didn’t pack any potions and all the shops are closed for the night.
The panic is dulled because of the alcohol, but is still present, you feel yourself freaking out in your core. Camp isn’t far, but there’s a part of you that’s certain you won’t be able to make it. You could try crawling, dragging yourself with your arms, but that seems more unlikely than trying to just walk the rest of the way there.
Maybe you could make it. Not all hope is lost yet, you’ve been in worse situations.
It’s right after the small sliver of hope you try to will and grab onto, that the world seems determined to prove you wrong. Another set of coughs destroy your body, sending you off balance as you bend in half to grip your aching ribs. More blood spills from your mouth and joins the rain on the concrete below you. You cough, and cough, and more comes out, it's seemingly endless, and when you’re done, you’re left feeling lightheaded and like you need a long nap. Just simple sleep.
Your body is at its limits. You’re not even halfway to camp. There’s no way out of this one this time.
You really fucked yourself.
You must really be on a suicide mission if you’re dumb enough to get black out and start a fight at the bar. At least you went out fighting, you hoped you at least took one or two of them down with you. You could feel it in your body how you were outnumbered though, bruises and cuts sprouting from all over your body.
There was no way you were ever going to win.
Maybe you just wanted someone to put you out of your misery so you didn’t have to do it yourself.
You’re barely able to make it to the alley on your left as you stumble your way between two buildings. Your body trips on nothing and slams into the stone wall, making you fall to the ground ungracefully as ever. With the last strength in your body, you pull yourself into a sitting position, slouching against the wall, but quickly slump back over.
The wall is spinning, the sky is spinning, you feel like you’re going in circles. The rain is more cold than ever, and you pull your cloak tighter around your body, but it seems to just trap in the chill. You cough, and more blood spills out. Your head pounds, your chest aches, and your ankle moans in pain.
Maybe if you’re lucky some poor fucker will see you and take pity on your sad self. Maybe if you just close your eyes, you’ll be able to gain enough strength to make the way back to camp and you can have Shadowheart patch you up.
Just a few minutes.
That’s all…
It can’t end here…
But you can’t push yourself any further for now…
You just need to rest real fast…
That’s all….
….
You feel yourself on the very edge, your final breath lingering on the tips of your lips as you try to give way to sleep, but something is calling out your name.
You really must be dying.
The voice sounds faintly like Astarion.
It’s pathetic how even on your deathbed you can only think about him. Your dying vision is him calling out for you one last time.
The voice continues to get louder, and you feel like every shout is leading you closer to death, your hallucination slowly becoming more reality than dream. There comes a point where it becomes too real though, and your brain fights itself between accepting this dream and realizing this was real. A thick shadow looms over you, blocking out the lights from outside the alley. The voice is loud in your ear, panicked and calling out louder than before.
He couldn’t really be here, right?
Astarion wanted nothing to do with you before, there’s no way he’s calling out now.
He said he hoped you died screaming.
If we really were here, he should be laughing, delighted that he got the chance to see your body withering away on the streets by random chance.
“...As-tarion….?” You croak out, your voice so hoarse from coughing that it's barely there anymore. It’s stupid to hope, you’re probably just talking to air, but you try anyways. If this is real, then this is your last chance.
The figure is kneeling now, right by your body. A gentle hand scoops under your head, and another hooks under knees before your body is being shifted. You wince but let yourself be manhandled, it’s not like you have much of a choice or can put up a fight. You’re pulled into a lap, you can feel crossed legs underneath you, against your back. One arm continues to cradle your neck and keep your head up, while the other frees the wet hair sticking to your face.
This has to be real right? Your body wouldn’t move like this on its own.
“As-” You open your mouth to try and call out to him again, but you’re quickly stopped with a finger being pushed to your lips and a quiet ‘shh’ noise.
“Yes, it's me.” He speaks.
“What are you- Why are you-” You have so many questions, that your mind can’t choose which one to ask first. You’re still trying to comprehend if this is true.
Because he’s here, he’s actually here. You can feel his hands all over you, his body pressed up against yours. You see him, feel him, hear him. In some twist of cruel fate, he came back. All it took was you ending your life for him to show up again. You can’t decide if it’s worth it. Because you get one last chance to see his smile, how his laugh lines move as his lips quirk upward. You get one last chance to see his expressive eyes that seem to give him away when he’s not quite 100% in the act he’s putting on. You get one more chance to finally apologize, to say all the things you’ve been thinking about for weeks.
“ I’m so sorry-” You find yourself saying. If you’re going to die, at least maybe you can get the apology you’ve been practicing in your head before it's all over.
“I never meant…God, I’m so sorry.” Your voice cracks, and you can feel yourself getting choked up. Your already sore throat hurts even more, but you keep pushing. You need to get this out.
“You were hurting, and I turned you down- wouldn’t even say anything- just denied you.” Your mouth is moving faster than your brain, the rehearsed apology being quickly thrown out the window. You’re going to die soon, you need to get this out now before you’re gone forever. “I was just…scared- and I didn’t know what to do- I-I fucked up though and made you think I wasn’t on your side..I’m-God- I’m sorry-”
You feel tears slide down your face and they burn the tender bruises forming on your cheeks, but you can’t stop. You keep blabbering, saying the same three sentences over and over again, not being able to comprehend anything, just trying to talk, to get him to forgive you. And eventually, there’s another set of fingers being placed on your lips, shushing you again. And you quiet right away, you feel like you can barely breathe.
“It’s- Okay.” He seems choked up, lost in his own thoughts. He takes a second to work out his words, but you can tell he is thinking hard about them. His voice isn’t filled with malice like it was last time. It’s soft, and gentle this time. It’s serious.
“I see that now.” He finally decides on his words, and loosely shifts in his arms to stare up at his face.
It really is him .
“I was so focused on something that I had been denied for so long…I let it control all my thoughts and actions. I didn’t realize how far gone I was. I just wanted…revenge…to get my life back. To feel in control for once. I couldn’t take being denied that again, and I didn’t want anyone who wouldn’t support me. I just wanted…closure.”
As he talks, you stare at him and take everything about him in. The rain has let up, the clouds finally parting just enough for the moonlight to peek through. It shines brightly on Astarion’s hair, casting a halo highlight. His eyes are soft, but the deep red that you love. His expression changes with every single word he speaks, a frown tugging at his lips as he talks to you. He’s beautiful. He’s more beautiful than you remember.
“But I left, and it didn’t take me long to calm down and realize my mistake. You were right . And I didn’t notice at the time..but you were scared. I keep playing that night over in my head and - Gods - I can only see how terrified you were. I did that… ” his voice fades out, and you feel more tears slip down your face.
This can’t be real. This is a dream. Because Astarion is pouring his heart out to you, holding you in his arms, apologizing while you’re on your deathbed.
It’s like a cliche dream come true, the best case scenario you could have pictured when you think about your death.
It feels so real though. It has to be.
“I made you scared. I never want to do that again. But I couldn’t bring myself to come back…not yet at least. I would never forgive anyone if acted the way to me that I acted towards you-”
“I’ve prayed every night that you would come back- you’ve been in my dreams- you’ve-” You cut him off, needing him to know how much you want him back. How much you forgive him, but you can’t talk long before you heave a heavy cough and can feel even more blood sliding down the corner of your lips.
“ Gods.. ”He breathes out a heavy, heartbroken sigh as he thumbs away the blood soiling your face.
His touch is the lightest thing you’ve ever felt, especially after the beating you suffered earlier in the night. Your whole body screams in pain, but every place that he touches is a personal cure all, you don’t feel any pain at all in his arms. His hands aren’t warm, yet somehow they are warming your body, filling you up like the alcohol did, but ten times stronger. You can feel your stomach flipping over itself, fluttering at every touch. You missed him so much.
“What happened to you?” He asks in shock, holding your face, sliding his thumb along your cheek to catch whatever stray tears linger as he stares into your eyes.
“I…don’t…know…” You admit, pitifully, darting your eyes away from his as you answer the question.
He raises an eyebrow at you, wordlessly encouraging you to keep talking. So you do, as best as you can. You speak in short, simple sentences, your apology from before taking the most of your brain power and energy. You explain drinking to clear your thoughts, and coming back to on the street. You talk about the pain in your ankle, in your chest and hands. He looks at you the entire time, his face morphing into different expressions as you retell certain parts of your night and you can feel the judgment from him seeping into your bones…though the care he has for you over powers it. The gentle feeling of fingers carding through your hair, detangling the strands, the gentle rubbing motion of his fingers on your arm. It’s like he’s single handedly feeding warmth back into your body, even if it isn’t enough to keep you alive, it's enough to prolong your death.
“What are you doing out here?” You ask at the end of your explanation, not giving him a chance to comment on your decision making skills of the night. Maybe he’ll stay with you until you fade away. That would be nice, dying in his arms. You couldn’t imagine a more perfect way to go.
“Making my way to the woods…” He starts, and quickly fades off leaving you to fill the blank.
Oh right, he must be starving. Back to animals, you were guessing. You almost feel guilty for doing that to him, even though he was the one that left in the first place. Your eyebrows just shoot up and your eyes widen at his response as you nod ever so slightly, telling him you understand.
“Were you ever going to come back?” You ask after another beat of silence.
You really shouldn’t be talking, but you can’t help but keep asking questions. You need answers, and you need your own closure. You need to lay here, life slowly draining your body and listen to his voice as it carries you into the afterlife. You can already feel your eyes get heavier with every word you breathe out. You can feel air being harder to take in, just becoming shallow and soft.
“I- '' It seems like he is going to respond seriously, but can sense the change in your condition and suddenly his calm demeanor completely switches as he cries out, not being able to keep his act going anymore.
“You’re fucking dying!”
He screams into the night, at your face and you frown. You are dying, it's not by your choice and you’d change if you could.
“- fuck-! ” He cries out, and you feel the gentle presence of a healing spell being washed over you. But, it doesn’t do much, just takes you back from the edge of blacking out. Your vision clears for a moment, yet your body still aches, and you can barely breathe. Blood still leaks from your mouth. The only difference is your eyes don’t feel so heavy anymore.
“We need to get you back, hold on-” His grip tightens on you, and you use all the strength you have in your body to reach out and wrap your hand around his arm to get his attention and shake your head.
“Don’t move…I’m not going to make it…” Your voice gets quieter with every word, it seems your vocal chords are finally giving out on you.
“I came here to die like a pathetic stray animal once I realized I had no chance.”
He washes another light spell over you, but just like before it only helps for a few seconds before you go back to feeling worse than ever.
“There’s no way you’re giving up now. ” He speaks through gritted teeth, annoyance and disbelief fills him. “After everything? A stupid bar fight is what puts an end to you?”
You want to laugh because it's true. What a pathetic way to go out.
“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.”
His eyes narrow at your choice of words and you swear if a light breeze of wind wouldn’t currently knock you on your ass, he would reach out and swat at your arm.
“No. No, this isn’t the end.”
Astarion attempts to stand again, but just like before you shoot your hand out to stop him, pleading with his name on your lips. He stops once more and looks down at you, wide eyes of terror meeting your own.
“I mean it…it’s over for me, I wouldn’t even make it- and the others don’t need to see me like this. Just let them think I ran off on my own in the middle of the night or something-”
Astarion opens his mouth to interject, but you stop him and keep talking with the last strength you have in your body.
“Please…just stay here…” You take a break to wheeze in a pathetic breath of air, and continue. “I don’t ask for much…just, this is perfect. You are all I need. Just one last kiss, and send me off on my way.”
He wants to fight, you see it in every bone in his body. But he’s at a loss, he can either leave you and let you die alone, or follow your wishes. It’s obvious if he tries to take you to camp you’ll fight the whole way there. This alley is your deathbed, that’s all there is too it.
“...Fine…” He relents, with another heartbroken sigh. His eyes are on your face, soaking up your features because it's the last time he’s ever going to get to see them.
His fingers trace the curve of your cheeks, the bridge of your nose and rough skin of your lips. They run across your eyelashes, and smooth over your eyebrows. They dance along your neck, and make their way to your collar bones before moving up to your ear, playing with the cartilage of it. Every move he makes is practiced, purposeful, calculated. He has intent with every touch, his face twisting into something so serious and focused as he stares down at you. As his fingers move and continue to spread warmth and love into your body, he starts to lean down and you try your best to meet him halfway. He stops you though, and tells you to let him do all the work. Eventually you feel his lips against yours.
Something so soft, a feather like kiss that almost feels like it wasn’t even there in the first place. You let his breath take your last as you breathe into his mouth. You move ever so slightly, leaning into his touch, to grab more of him, take whatever you can before it's too late. You strain yourself, pushing yourself over the edge as you lift your arm and wrap it around his neck, letting yourself play with the soaked white curls at the nape of his neck. He sighs in content and kisses you deeper, taking every bit of strength that you have left.
You feel the world fading around you, slowly but sure coming to a halt. Everything is starting to feel dull, his touch, his heat, the cold air outside…it's all starting to feel so far away. And you’re realizing you’re ready. All you wanted was one last kiss and you’d be set.
Astarion pulls away as your eyes blink, and slip closed for one last time.
The last sensation you feel before you’re pulled under is a deep, sharp shooting pain in your neck.
