Read Sunshine & Starlight on Ao3 Read the previous chapter on Tumblr Pairing: Dafni (F!Tav) x Astarion Rating: M (Later Chapters will contain explicit content) TWs: depiction of mild anxiety Tags: Cubby elf oc, Cleric!Tav, fluff Elvish Translations: N'Tel'Que'Tethira - City Elves
Dafni sat cross-legged beside the fire, elbow-deep in her heavy canvas pack, plucking out anything of use she could find amidst the collection of random objects that had taken up a semi-permanent residence there over the years. Her mother had always said that her organizational skills left much to be desired. She could picture her golden brown eyes as they rolled in response to Dafni's insistence that she was simply well prepared.
Dafni yelped, her finger finding the sharp edge of a knife. She pulled her hand free of her pack, examining the tiny laceration. A bit of blood had welled up at the tip of her finger. She popped the finger in her mouth, gently sucking on the wound. Her face scrunched in displeasure as the smell of iron stung her nose. Frustrated, Dafni grabbed her pack, dumping its contents into a heap atop her bedroll.
She immediately pulled out her father's compass, her crinkled map of the Sword Coast, and the offending knife, sorting them into the 'useful' pile along with a few other adventuring essentials she'd found mixed in with her clutter.
She separated her clothing next. One by one, Dafni tossed each article to the side save for a single length of translucent azure cloth. She pressed the peplos to her nose, drawing in the sweetness of elven laurel and fertile soil. It had been over a year since she last returned to her village, but the smell of home still clung to her vestments.
Her chest ached at the thought of home. If she had just been able to content herself living among the wood elves— If she had never left the Feywild in the first place, Dafni might have avoided the dire situation she'd found herself in altogether.
She signed, kicking out her crossed legs and flogging to her back.
There was no use dwelling on the what-ifs. A part of her would always belong to Gwynneth and the kaleidoscopic splendor of the Feywild. Still, the world was wide, and Dafni had been born with a voracious sense of curiosity that would never have allowed her to content herself with living the neat, simple life her mother had planned for her.
True, Bauldr's Gate had taken some getting used to at first, but life in the city was already shaping up to be an excellent adventure. Twin Songs was a colorful hodgepodge of architectural influences. Temples and shrines to more gods than she could have imagined lined each street. Some people might have called the mishmash of aesthetics as garish, but to Dafni, there was strange loveliness in so many dissimilar things coming together to make something entirely unique.
She'd found a townhouse there, just beyond Wyrm's Crossing. A white brick building with dark wooden archways. It was covered in crawling vines and star-shaped blossoms. The front garden was overgrown, but she could still identify a few familiar herbs among the chaos. A bergamot tree grew near the edge of the waist-high lattice fence, its branches bowing with the weight of unplucked fruit. When she spotted the crooked 'for rent' sign in the window, Dafni knew she'd found her new home.
The townhouse belonged to a family of elvish nobles from the Upper City who had long since left for their country estate. However, their retainer had assured her they wouldn't have an issue with her using the lower floor of the property as a clinic so long as she could afford the rent.
Business had been slow initially, but she'd gained a measure of favor among the city's elven refugees. Dafni's mouth tipped downward, her thoughts drifting to the trembling woman who'd come to her door in the wee hours of the morning.
There had been an outbreak of fever spreading amongst the elven refugees of Rivington. Dafni had held her shaking hands as she described the illness: fever, chills, a flushed appearance, excessive perspiration. The Sylvan Sweats, she was sure of it.
A nasty disease is left to run its course but treatable with the right combination of herbs and magic. She kept her shelves well stocked, but she'd need something more challenging to come by than the willow bark and elderflower she'd sent the woman home with to ease her people's symptoms.
Naralis Blessing. That had been her purpose in setting out for the Cloak Wood. The flowers were rare in the material plane, only growing in places where the veil between it and the Feywild was particularly thin. Even if she hadn't found them growing naturally, the conditions of the forest were perfect for her to conjure some up herself.
Dafni's fingertips brushed against the delicate skin just below her eye. Yesterday, she'd been on a mission to help her people, and now she was the one in desperate need of a healer.
Gale had spared no detail when explaining the gory details of ceremorphosis. Disorientation, hallucination, headaches, bleeding orifices. They should have been hip-deep in misery by now.
Yet, she and her new friends remained miraculously untentacled.
He and Shadowheart were suspicious of the lack of skull-splitting horror, but Dafni was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Gods willing, their luck would continue and she'd have a cure and be on her way back to the Rivington elves before they even had time to wonder what was keeping her.
Dafni's eyes fluttered shut, and thoughtful reflection began to bleed into half-formed reverie. She might have drifted off completely had she not heard the sound of Astarion's voice.
"Pardon me ah— Daffodil, was it?"
"Dafni," she corrected with a snort.
"Right. My Apologies. I'm not usually one to forget the name of a beautiful woman. A side effect of our little hitchhikers, perhaps."
She waved her hands before herself, a flush forming across her cheeks. "No harm done. Was there something you needed?"
Astarion pushed aside the pile of clothes Dafni had left out on her bedroll before sitting beside her. Her flush grew impossibly hotter as his pale hand brushed against a pair of her candy colored panties.
He glanced up at her, wearing a close-lipped smile. "Oh, nothing in particular. I just wanted to see how you were faring before we turn in for the evening. I'm happy to take the first watch if you'd like. I'll be awake for a while anyway. This is all new to me. Trudging around the wilderness all day and curling up in the dirt to rest is a little… novel," his expression soured for a moment before shifting back to indifference, "but I doubt I'll be getting much rest until we can procure some more comfortable accommodations."
Dafni brought her palm to her mouth to stifle her giggle. It was terribly impolite to laugh at the discomfort of others, but the idea of an elf turning their nose up at nature was, as Astarion had put it, a little novel to her.
"I'm sorry!" she said as she bit back another peel of laughter, "I hope I haven't offered you it's just where I come from, N'Tel'Que'Tethira are particularly unheard of. Hearing an elf so dissatisfied with a night beneath the stars was a bit of a shock."
"Oh, no offense taken." Astarion offered her a dismissive wave of his hand. "I take it you aren't baldurian then?"
"Actually, I am! Only recently, though. I'm from the Moonshaes, originally."
Astarion gave a thoughtful hum. "What brought you to the city then?"
"Wanderlust, mostly," Dafni explained, "I lived with a clan of wood elves before coming to the city. We traveled all over the Isle of Gwynneth. I loved it but I was just… ready for a change."
"Wood elves? How charming." he flashed her a dazzling grin, adding, "Although, I hardly think it was fair of them to keep such a lovely creature all to themselves in the wilderness."
Dafni was beginning to wonder if Astarion took some sort of sadistic pleasure in making her blush. Gods, all it took was a few honeyed words and Dafni had found herself reduced to jelly. In her fluster, she had forgotten to mind her glamour, allowing a cluster of pale yellow and peachy pink flowers to blossom among her loose curls.
"Was there anything I could do to help you feel more comfortable?" Dafni blurted out, desperate to shift his attention away from the garden spring to life in her hair, "I—I could brew you an herbal tea to help you relax, maybe? Or, umm, I could share my bedroll. Not like that, of course! Not that I don't think you are handsome. You are very handsome. I mean, obviously. I just mean I could let you use it so you'll be more…comfortable."
Dafni groaned, burying her face in her palms. She jumped at the feeling of an icy hand wrapping around her wrist. Astarion tugged her hands away from her face. When Dafni finally mustered the courage to face him, she was met with the first genuine smile she'd seen grace his perfect lips all day.
"Oh no, darling, tea isn't really my drink. As for the bedroll, well, maybe another time."
Dafni yanked her wrist free of Astarion's loose grip, "You are a ruthless tease! Has anyone told you that before?"
"Alright, no more teasing for tonight; you have my word," Astarion said with a low chuckle; his fingertips brushed against her temple as he plucked a yellow flower from behind her pointed ear. He rolled the stem between his index and forefinger, glancing at her through his dark lashes. He brought the blossom to his nose, drawing in a deep breath. "You know, I think I might like you, Daffodil . The two of us are going to have a lot of fun together."
