“ Haven’t you ‘eard? There’s been a BEAST lurking ‘round ‘ere! BIG, HULKIN’ MONSTA’! It’s like — GOTTA be ‘round SEVEN FEET TOLL’ WITH BIG OL’ TEEF, I TELL YA’S! “
One of the townsfolk overzealously flapped his arms like a fish out of water, bug eyes nearly about to pop right out of their sockets as he continued.
“ — AND IT LOOKED LIKE A GIANT BAT CREATURE! I SWEARS, I SAW IT WITH ME OWN EYES! IT BORE IT’S TEEF AND TORE APART THESE NEARBY MONSTA’ HUNTAS’! CHERRY RED HAIR AND GLOWIN’ EYES! Yous’ better be careful ‘round ‘ere lest you wanna end up like THOSE PEOPLE! “
Bethanne couldn’t help but give the raving man a white hot glare. With burly arms crossed, she listened intently, acknowledging that he was damn well unknowingly spouting about her fresh kills last night. The indignation on her war painted features was not only directed toward the public humiliation — but due to her own irresponsible actions as well.
She has to keep a private profile. Especially in a place completely foreign to her. Barovia may know her as The Eldritch Beast, but not The Forgotten Realms. This was a chance to start anew…to wipe her slate clean and take on a new identity, free from the beast — free from Noctus. This party cannot find out about the beast. It would scare them all away, predominantly because of how some townsfolk already caught a glimpse of her midnight kills and began to spread exaggerated gossips. Fuck it all to hell.
This slip up cannot happen again. She cannot afford the calamity that would surely follow.
—
This slip up cannot happen again, she told herself. She could not afford the calamity that would follow, she thought.
Then how in the Nine Hells did she fuck up THIS badly to be staring directly down into the petrified eyes of her fellow vampire spawn? The undead had forgotten that he would discreetly sneak away from camp during the blackout hours to feast upon the wildlife — that was also her time to venture out of bounds and feed herself as the beast. Gods forbid they crossed paths one fateful night.
Large, pointed ears flattened in a mixture of fear and mortification, sensing the slight recognition his crimson eyes held. Did he put two and two together from earlier? Did he come to the horrid conclusion that the beast and the barbarian were one of the same? This is awful. Out of everyone in the party, she wanted him to be the last one to discover her secret.
He was the only damn person out there that shared her agony and desperation for freedom being that the two were vampire spawns. She could have related to him, dare say bonded with him! They could have grown closer and banded together to find these accursed vampire lords and bring them HELL! All gone, just like that, because she was stupid enough to be caught red handed by the rogue.
He never even knew she too was a vampire spawn. Sure, it was obvious she was a vampire too, but Bethanne was so closed off that the party hardly knew the real her.
It was too late now. He would see her as a raging, disgusting beast and nothing more.
“you’re staring,” shadowheart remarks, bored, as they unceremoniously glance in astarion’s direction. “i’d rather you say what’s on your mind than ogle me in silence, if it’s all the same to you,” she cants her head slightly. “that is, of course, if you’ve still got your wits about you.” // @aefen
“you looked like you could use some company,” they say with a smile and two cups of tea—one in either hand. “i know you said you weren’t much of a tea-drinker, but this one is special,” tess holds up the one in their left hand. “hibiscus, rosehips, brandy, and… squirrel blood,” they offer it to @aefen. “i can’t say i’ve ever made anything quite like it.” that is an understatement.
“only if you want it, though,” she adds this as a caveat, prior to taking a sip of her own tea, which lacks both alcohol and blood, thankfully.
@aefen says, " easy there, take this much further and you’re in danger of enjoying yourself. "
life’s easier now, with the circlet. she can drink without worrying that she’ll open up her mind to every thought in a five mile radius, for one. most of all, though, she has some semblance of control; and while she certainly doesn’t have all of her magic contained, she does have this, at long last, subdued. besides, a little whiskey never hurt anyone.
“worried a farm girl’ll drink you under the table, astarion?” she asks, following a generous sip of her drink. “funny. i didn’t take you for the cowardly type.”
