Astarion held his arms out, palms facing the sky as he silently screamed in the morning light. He had done it again, everything according to plan. The tiefling made it too easy, really. A smile here, a quip there, and Lox played right into it. Just more lies added to an endless hoard of deceptions.
Still the numb feeling settled in his stomach was like an anchor pulling him under again.
He focused on the warmth of the sun against his skin. There was a little joy in that. This light he had been forced to fear, he could and would relish.
Then there was the taste in his mouth. A target willingly offering him their blood. That was a first. It was beyond doubt that Lox’s blood was descended from the hells. It was hot like fresh brewed tea. Salty and spicy like raw cinnamon. But still it was sweet and all too smooth. A shiver ran down his spine equal parts pleasure and apprehension.
And he was afraid of this second feeling. It was blooming alongside the anchor. This want certainly had to be for nothing more than blood. He only hoped it would get dragged down to numbness too. Like everything else.
