"Your mother was a cultist of Bhaal?" The two elves sit near the stream as they talk, the low sound of the running water soothing the tension of the conversation. Astarion sits in a half pretzel with one knee to his chest. His ruby eyes don't detach from Delphie's face as she tries to answer his question without breaking.
"I don't know the specifics. I was very young when I was abandoned in the woodlands of Rivington. She said my mind was broken." The wood elf looks so small with her arms wrapped around the knees curled to her chest. Her words are partially muffled as her mouth rests behind them. "I always cared for animals especially reptiles, ever since I was little, but to her, that was a sign of abnormality."
The emerald color of her irises searches for anything to focus on besides his face. She can feel the tears coming but refuses to shed them. She's stronger than that. Delphie takes a deep breath before she continues. "She tried to torture me into becoming this demonic thing she believed I was, but it never worked." A scoff escapes from her lips as she turns her gaze to the stars. "Now, that we have these tadpoles in our heads that will eventually turn us into fucking mind flayers, the whole cult will surely come after me."
"Let's see here, not only do we have a whole fleet of mind flayers after us, we have a vampire lord, and an entire cult of the lord of murder." Astarion remarks as if it wasn't obvious with a finger to his chin. He tries to meet her eyes, but she won't let him.
"Pretty much."
The pale elf lets out an exasperated sigh. "Wonderful."
After a moment of silence, Delphie's eyes finally connect with Astarion's. "I have a proposition for you. You keep me safe, I'll keep you safe. Deal?"
A soft chuckle escapes the vampire spawn's mouth as a small smirk creeps on his face. "That's all I'm asking."
"Then, as my part of the deal, you'll take that injured shoulder to Shadowheart in the morning," Before the man can say anything, Delphie dries the tears that have yet to shed and stands up. "Goodnight, Astarion." With that, she gives him a soft smile and walks back to her tent as Astarion watches, speechless.
The next day, much to Shadowheart's vexation, begins with Lae'zel's lead on a githyanki creche near the grove. A lingering tension remains in the air after an argument breaks out between Lae'zel and Delphie. Lae'zel was attempting to force Zorru, her lead, to bow before her, but Delphie refused to let the gith hold such power over the tiefling cowering in fear. It was a common display of any alpha to hold such authority over others, but unlike the wildness surrounding the grove, Zorru wasn't a wild animal.
The gith had called Delphie weak; 'like a hatchling', she said. The comment blew out of proportion and it flusters the wood elf beyond the hells. They're partners. They travel together. Delphie is not under Lae'zel, nor is Lae'zel under her. Yet, the gith called her subordinate. Shadowheart's words echo in her mind. Maybe the half-elf was right. Maybe it was a bad idea to bring the gith with them.
Instead of arguing more with the gith, Delphie turns her back to the party and walks toward the entrance to the Sacred Pool. She doesn't have to look behind to notice Wyll's attempt to follow, being gently held back by Shadowheart. However, the half-elf couldn't prevent their rogue from sneaking away.
Down the stone steps, a magical aura envelops the air around the stone arch, signaling the entrance into the sacred space of the druid grove. The trees, tall and ancient, tower above with their branches interwoven like a natural cathedral ceiling, casting dappled sunlight onto the forest floor. Moss-covered stones and arches mark the boundaries of the grove, and the subtle fragrance of wildflowers wafts through the air.
The ranger's keen senses pick up on the gentle rustling of leaves and the melodic songs of birds, creating a symphony of nature. The ground beneath her nimble feet is soft with a carpet of fallen leaves and moss, absorbing the sound of every step. As she walks deeper into the heart of the grove, the sacred pool becomes visible—a place of power and communion for the druids who gather here—the ritual currently underway as a green fog encircles it.
The party had been over this way the day prior, meeting the tribe's temporary leader, Kagha, and saving a young tiefling child from being bitten by a venomous snake. This area feels just as fresh to Delphie as it did yesterday. Suddenly, she senses the presence of a familiar sneaky figure behind her. She doesn't have to turn around to notice him.
"Astarion, why are you following me?" The wood elf asks dryly, stopping in her tracks.
A small chuckle escapes from the vampire spawn. "Honestly, seeing you upset like this, is quite entertaining. Though I do wonder if I should've stayed with Shadowheart and the gith. That may have been more entertaining. You should've heard the way they were arguing when you left."
Even though he's unable to see it, Astarion feels the eye roll aimed towards him as Delphie starts walking again. For some reason, he feels inclined to continue following her. "Look, these druids also don't appear to be particularly fond of us. Probably wise we don't split up, darling, don't you think?"
Once again, the wood elf stops in her tracks, giving him a curious glance and a somewhat amused smile. "Since when did you become the voice of reason?"
"Oh, I've always been the voice of reason, my sweet." The beginning of a rare soft chuckle comes from Delphie. It makes him smile, though he doesn't know why. Her laugh is contagious with a melodic quality, starting as a soft, musical giggle that gradually builds into a more pronounced cascade of laughter. There's a certain fluidity to the sound, like a series of tinkling bells dancing through the air.
Delphie was so serious and stoic when he first met her a few days ago. The party had somehow managed to soften her in the past few days they spent together. Sure, she can still have her moments, but Astarion can tell she's starting to trust them...starting to trust him. It's perfect. His plan, though somewhat modified after an unsuccessful attempt at seducing her, might just work after all.
However, this warmth building inside him feels different than before. It's weird. Like the ice inside of his soul is beginning to melt because of her. Her laughter. Her smile. Her various acts of kindness toward him. Not Gale. Not Wyll. Him.
As they begin to walk once again toward the secluded cove beside them, they're greeted by an apparition of a red mist encircling a deceitful-looking man. Although handsome with his shoulder-length brown hair and tan skin, the sly smile on his face says otherwise.
"My, my, what a manner of place is this? A path to redemption, or a road to damnation? Hard to say, for your journey is just beginning." At the sound of the man's deep voice, Astarion finds himself inching closer to Delphie. "What would suit the occasion? The words to a lullaby, perhaps?" Just like Astarion, the man begins to inch closer to the wood elf as well, the sly smile on his face growing. "The mouse smiled brightly; it outfoxed the cat. Then down came the claw, and that, love, was that." Astarion's hand reaches for the hilt of the sheathed dagger on his belt. "They do know how to write them in Cormyr, don't they? Well met. I am Raphael. Very much at your service."
Delphie crosses her arms in front of her and stands up taller, forming a bear-like stance in an attempt to make her tiny self look intimidating. "Pretty words. If you want to threaten me, don't disguise it." The snakes coiled around her wrists begin to tense, feeling Delphie's unease.
"Why, I never. You're paranoid, aren't you?" His tone is almost condescending. "Maybe the surroundings. Rather bleak and lonesome. One feels so...exposed. This quaint little scene is decidedly too middle-of-nowhere for my tastes." Astarion and Delphie lock eyes for a moment. "Come."
Suddenly, a white mist surrounds them. After it dissipates, the duo realizes they're no longer in the druid grove. Towering walls with intricate paneling surround them. Various portraits and emblems of devils and fiends flood the room. Two fiendish heads rest upon either side of the hearth in front of them as the growing flames inside cause an unusual unsettling feeling in their stomachs. An octagonal table rests behind them filled with a lavish feast of bread, wine, and cheese. Eight elegant chairs of red velvet plush encircle the table.
"There. Middle-of-somewhere." Raphael remarks, with his hands out beside him, presenting his extravagant abode.
The apprehension bubbling in Delphie's stomach grows with each moment they're here. "Take us back, now."
"And deny you the honour of my hospitality?" With the click of his tongue, the man continues to talk. "This is the House of Hope. Where the tired come to rest, and the famished come to feed—lavishly." Raphael gestures to the feast behind the two elves, yet Delphie doesn't break eye contact with him. "Go on. Partake. Enjoy your supper. After all...it might just be your last."
"Are these theatrics leading somewhere?" Delphie spits the words at him like snake venom. She's done playing games.
"Are you not entertained? Well—far be it from me to disappoint." As he finishes his sentence, Raphael is engulfed in a circle of flames. As the flames wither, the man reveals his true identity. The two elves watch as he develops multiple horns on his head and fiendish wings spreading out from behind his back. "What's better than a devil you don't know?" The sly smile on his face becomes more unsettling as a devilish glint appears in his eyes. "A devil you do."
Despite the mischievous look in his eyes, Delphie doesn't break eye contact with him. Astarion, now beside her, remembers the look in her eyes. It was the same animalistic look she gave him when they first met. He realizes she's preparing to attack at a moment's notice as her hand stealthily tries to reach for the bow behind her back.
A cold hand makes the hairs on the wood elf's neck rise as it makes contact with her bare shoulder. However, the touch eases the tension rising in her body. Delphie glances beside her to see the vampire spawn giving her a stern look. He's warning her. This is a fight they won't win.
"Am I a friend? Potentially. An adversary? Certainly. But a saviour? That's for certain." Raphael continues his speech, causing the apprehension in the pit of Delphie's stomach to evolve into a fiery complex.
"I don't care what you are—I care what you want." The venom in the wood elf's voice makes Astarion flinch. He knows she won't survive a fight with the devil in front of them, but the tone in her voice makes it hard to believe. For someone socially awkward most of the time, the wood elf has no hesitation when it comes to intimidating anyone she deems a threat.
"Oh, a mere trifle. How dear is one's soul, really? A rhetorical question of course, but let me venture an answer." The devil pauses and moves his face mere inches from Delphie's. "It's worth very little with a tadpole in your head. One skull, two tenants, and no solution in sight. I could fix it all like that."
Astarion can see her jaw clench. He can see the discomfort in her body. She does not like how close this devil is to her. Any sane person would feel uneasy in this situation, but her discomfort is different. The pale elf remembers their first night together when he tried to make a move on her when she offered to give him blood. He remembers the repressed memory she accidentally shared with him. That sick, twisted memory. Underneath her rough interior, Delphie was still traumatized from that moment and Astarion could tell from miles away.
"You're mad if you think I'll make a deal with a devil." The emerald eyes that were once staring daggers into this fiend are now filled with fear. Her voice quivers as she tries to stay strong.
Raphael chuckles and leaves her personal bubble. Astarion watches as she releases a breath she's been holding. "And what is madness but a denial of reality? Still, I have a feeling you'll change your mind. Before it's changed for you..." The devil pauses and gives the duo a menacing grin. "Try to cure yourself. Shop around—beg, borrow, and steal. Exhaust every possibility until none are left. And when hope has been whittled down to the very marrow of despair—that's when you'll come knocking on my door." Raphael turns his back to them. "Hope," He chuckles. "Such a tease."
"I'll have the last laugh in the end." The wood elf's voice is hardly above a whisper. Raphael glances back at her with a predatory glint in his fiendish eyes as he flicks his wrist. The world goes white once again.
"Now there's a bloody devil trailing after us?! Like we don't already have enough people doing that already." Once they return to the bottom of a cliff near the secluded cove, Astarion begins pacing in front of Delphie as she stares into space. "'Shop around', he said. He seems sure we won't find anything." Delphie snaps out of her trance and meets his ruby eyes. "And he might be right, we've had no luck so far."
Delphie closes her eyes. Raphael is gone, now. He's nowhere near you. He can't hurt you. The thoughts keep playing on repeat in her mind. A sudden surge of courage courses through the wood elf's body as she opens her eyes. "He's not, Astarion," Delphie places a gentle hand on Astarion's shoulder. "We still have options."
Astarion is shocked at how quickly she manages to calm herself. He honestly didn't believe that she was listening. This odd elf in front of him never ceases to amaze him. "Maybe, but all that 'take your time, I'll wait' nonsense? He's playing with us. He reminds me of Cazador." Delphie bites her lip, glancing away as she removes her hand from his shoulder. Without thinking the pale elf places both of his hands on her face and gently turns her face back toward him. He needed her to make sure she was listening to his every word. "Creatures like them don't play games unless they know they can win."
The wood elf gazes into the rare soft look in his eyes as he awkwardly removes his hands from her face. She clears her throat and shifts her gaze down to her feet. "Well, we're certainly not his playthings. We'll show him that."
"Maybe, but do remember, darling. He's not the only one spinning a web for us." Delphie forces herself to look back at him. "This is no ordinary mind flayer parasite. Who tampered with it and why? What do they have planned for us? And why are we important enough that a devil comes knocking on our door? If we find those answers, we might have a chance."
The two elves share a look of agreement. Delphie breaks the stare as she hears the sound of a lute on top of the cliff in front of them. Mesmerized, she follows the trail up to the cliff, unaware of Astarion following closely behind her in confusion.
Atop the cliff is a young tiefling around Delphie's age sitting on a large rock, her pale lilac skin and pink-tinted hair illuminated by the setting sun. An intricately designed lute rests in her lap as she tries to play a song, but frequently stops and mutters under her breath. When the two elves reach the top, Delphie watches for a moment in silence.
"Are you all right?" The wood elf's voice is friendly, but soft and almost shaky with hesitation.
A small smile creeps on Astarion's face. For some reason, the sight of the ranger attempting to interact with others is one of the few things that fill him with warmth. Usually, he would laugh in these situations. 'How pathetic.' He would usually say, but something was different about Delphie. Although he would never admit it, he finds her utterly adorable. Her selfless acts can sometimes get on his nerves, but in just the small amount of her past she revealed to him, he felt a general sense of remorse and understanding. The feeling confuses him. In the two hundred years he's been a vampire spawn, he's never felt like this before and a small part of him wants to know more.
"No. I'm moments away from a grisly death at the hands of this bloody song." The tiefling pulls him from his thoughts as she responds to Delphie's question. "I can't...nothing fits, you know?"
A small awkward smile forms on the wood elf's face. "Let me see if I can help." Astarion watches as she pulls her wooden flute out of her backpack.
"Hm. It can't hurt." The bard muses, returning Delphie's smile.
"What's the song about?" The coiled brown curls resting on the wood elf's shoulder brush along her neck as she tilts her head in curiosity.
"I'll start from the beginning. We'll take it slow." And they do.
The two women perform in perfect unison as if they'd practiced this piece regularly. In a moment that shocks Astarion, Delphie's tense body eases up as she plays. Delphie is a natural. It's a wonder why she never became a bard. The snakes uncoil from her wrists and slither up to her neck as they've done when she's played at night in their camp. The pale elf watches as she becomes one with her instrument, swaying with the music. The scars along her forehead begin to glow again the more comfortable she becomes.
The light breeze blows through her curls, creating a stunning image that cements itself in Astarion's mind. As the women finish the song, the scars along Delphie's forehead fade and the snakes slither back to her arms. A bashful pink tint finds its way to the wood elf's cheeks as she giggles with the bard.
Later that night, in the tranquil embrace of a moonlit night, the pale elf lies reclined on the bed of soft grass next to his tent, his form a silhouette against the canvas of the celestial display above. Despite his original opinion on laying on the dirt, his body sprawls in a relaxed yet purposeful manner, arms folded behind his head, creating a makeshift pillow. His posture reflects an unhurried surrender to the cosmic spectacle above—a rare sight amongst the chaos of the past few days.
The sound of soft footsteps growing near him makes the corners of his lips twitch. A smaller figure reclines next to him with her arms folded across her stomach. A similar expression etches itself upon her soft features. For a moment, neither of them speak a word.
"It's quite the sight." Astarion breaks the silence, his gaze continuing to focus upward.
The wood elf beside him turns on her side to face him, her head resting against her arm sprawled out in front of her. "The stars?" A content hum escapes from the vampire spawn. "You seem more relaxed." Her doe eyes are locked on him, a soft smile graced upon her lips like a shy child awaiting to hear a beloved story.
"I am. I've been thinking." The ruby orbs of his eyes quickly glance over to her and back. "Reflecting on what tomorrow might bring when we arrive at this gith creche." Delphie watches as the content smile forms into a thin line. He looks almost sad. However, the ranger is exhausted from their long day and she can't tell if it's genuine or not. "Will we find out how to bring the worm under control? Will this little adventure of ours be over?"
Despite her initial distaste for traveling with a group, she's grown quite fond of her fellow companions. Even Lae'zel, whom she had just had an intense argument with earlier in the day. It almost scares her how quick she was to start trusting these people. She never trusts anyone and the one man who seems to be the least trustworthy of them all is the one she trusts the most. That thought scares her more than anything. However, she can't manage to stop the words that are about to escape her mouth. "Astarion, I've spent most of my life alone in the woodlands of Rivington. If I'm going to be honest, I'm starting to enjoy the company. Finding a cure doesn't mean we have to stop traveling together."
A soft chuckle escapes from his mouth as he mirrors her position. "Good. I don't want you to run off just yet." Their eyes lock intensely and Delphie feels her heart beat slightly faster. "You're quite the ally, after all. Traversing Avernus. Surviving the crash. Surviving everything that's followed!" Astarion pauses for a moment, considering his next words. "I'm not easily impressed by people, but you're stronger than I gave you credit for."
"Thanks?" The wood elf doesn't know how to respond to the backhanded compliment, but an awkward, yet bashful smile still creeps on her face. "I'm honestly just trying to survive like you."
"Yes, we're more similar than I thought." Those words strike a chord in him. She lived in the woodlands most of her life by herself and from the memory he saw, he knew at some point she was forcefully taken from her woodland home not long ago. Her animalistic nature sometimes reminds him of his own. When he was on the prowl for Cazador. Right now, they're both prey trying to escape from their predators. They're both trying to survive.
He's unaware that he's been moving closer to her, trying to search deeper into her eyes. A hitch of breath from her breaks him from his thoughts.
"Are you all right?" The words escape from her lips hardly above a whisper. Her emerald eyes frantically scan his face for something, her heart racing faster than ever. The paranoia within her was creeping in slowly and he could sense it.
"Hmm?" Astarion quickly retracts from her as she lets out a breath she was holding. "Oh. I was leagues away. I just need to...get some air. Clear my head."
Delphie's eyebrows rise. "But we're outside-"
"I'll see you later, I'm sure." Astarion stands up before she can say anything else. "Sleep tight." Delphie blinks in confusion as he retreats into the grove behind their camp.
Delphie stands up, unaware of a familiar cleric approaching her.
"So, what were you two talking about?" Shadowheart's voice was curious, yet stern. The wood elf in front of her jumps out of her skin and whips around to face the half-elf. "You and the pale fellow."
"Oh, nothing. We were just talking." Delphie tries to remain stoic, but can't help the pink tint that never leaves her face.
Shadowheart gives her a stern look. She's a few inches taller than the wood elf, but it felt as if she was towering. "I'd be careful around Astarion."
"Why?" Flipping almost on a dime, the wood elf's face begins to turn red, almost as if steam was going to extrude from her ears.
The look on Delphie's face doesn't seem to faze the cleric. "Trust is a rare currency. Not sure I'd spend it on someone who claimed they were planning to gut me and bite me." She crosses her arms over her chest, letting out an exasperated sigh.
"To be fair, I was the one who attacked him first. Also, I offered him my blood."
Shadowheart's expression softens as she puts her hands on Delphie's shoulders. "Look, I've spent the past three days with you. You seem reliable. I think you know how important it is that we find someone who can cure us. Best if we focus on that."
Before the wood elf can say anything else, the cleric in front of her turns, her long braid flipping with her, and heads to her tent. Delphie stands in silence, considering the words spoken, but a deeper thought overpowers it.
If only she'd see underneath the mask he so gracefully hides behind...