Things between Astarion and Delphie simmer down by the end of the last two battles. Delphie, although still longing for him to open up to her, pushes her feelings aside for the sake of their friendship...or whatever it is between them. 'We fight better as one.' She tells him over the chaos of their battle with the drow. And she was right. The last two battles are fought with much more ease than their battle with the goblin priestess. Much to everyone's surprise, Delphie focuses more on using her spells than her bow. However, it is the combination of her spells and the mutual trust she shares with Astarion that helps the entire party tear through the goblin camp. Despite only knowing each other for about a month, they are a force to be reckoned with...and they know it too.
By the time they reach the sanctum's door, they're all exhausted. Out of breath. Out of spells. They are ready to go. One could only imagine the look on their faces when Astarion's 'Oh, for fuck's sake!' resonates through the empty building as he opens the door to a group of goblins charging at them.
Delphie takes a sharp breath, gripping the dragon scale around her neck as tightly as she can. "Echo," she whispers. "I need your help."
Within mere moments, the goblins stop charging as a low guttural growl echoes across the sky. Suddenly, the sun above them is obscured by a large shadow as the growling intensifies.
"Dragon!" one of the goblins yells right before he's picked up by talons half his size.
Delphie runs outside amongst the chaos, ignoring the pleas of her companions behind her to come back inside. She watches as the shimmering gold dragon rips the goblin in two, pelting the head at one goblin and the body at two others, knocking all three unconscious. The dragon lets out a loud echoing roar as it unleashes a long breath of fire toward the rest of the fleeing goblins, turning them all to nothing but ash and dust.
The rest of the party joins Delphie outside as the dragon lands in front of them. For any lucky adventurer, it's a beauty to behold. The dragon, its gold scales reflecting off the sun, is not full-sized. However, it's still almost as tall as the wooden doors behind them, and its wings span from one stone wall to the other. It cranes its long scaley neck down to reveal its elegant face, almost resembling a wolf, with two curved, ridged gold horns on either side of its head.
Everyone watches in awe as Delphie reaches out to it, guiding its head to rest against hers. A tear falls from her eye, trailing down her pale cheek. "It's been some time, Echo." A smile forms on her soft pink lips as the dragon gently pulls its head away.
"That it has, indeed." Despite the low, deep growl the group heard earlier, Echo's voice is reminiscent of a soft-spoken young woman. She tilts her head towards the rest of the group and studies them intensely. "These are your new companions?"
"Yeah. Echo, this is Astarion, Shadowheart, Karlach, Gale, Wyll, Lae'zel, and Halsin." Echo eyes each of them as she goes down the line.
"Hmm." The dragon leans her head into Astarion's personal space.
The pale elf loses his balance, trying to back away from her, and falls on his rear end with a quick inhale. "Delphie, please tell your pet not to eat me," he speaks in a stage whisper as he fearfully looks toward the other elf. The ranger gives him an amused smirk in return.
"I am not her pet just as she is not your meal, Bloodsucker." The dragon huffs in his direction, a cloud of smoke emerging from her snout.
"I like this one," Karlach leans into Shadowheart with a playful smile. "Can we keep her?" Shadowheart and Gale both chuckle in response.
Upon realizing she won't harm him, Astarion returns the dragon's glare as he stands up. "Oh, I had no idea," he responds in his usual sarcastic tone, placing his hands on his hips. "Thanks for letting me know, Lizard."
"Aww, how cute. Our vampire friend has found himself a rival," Shadowheart's smirk grows as she leans over to Karlach. The trio laugh once again.
Before the bickering continues, Delphie places herself in between them. "Alright, calm down. Both of you."
"Del, when did you befriend a dragon?" Wyll's voice breaks the quiet laughter.
"Well," she begins. "A few days after my mother abandoned me in the forest outside of Rivington, I came across this dragon egg just lying in the middle of the woods. I sat with it. Kept it warm and finally it hatched. Echo and I practically raised each other. Kept each other company, but Echo grew quickly. After a few years, she was too big to live in the woods, so she had to leave and find a cave to reside in."
The dragon beside her nods in agreement. "Every few months, I'd return to the Rivington forest to see how she was fairing. I gave her that scale to summon me when she's in danger. I can't always be around...which reminds me." She glances over at the now dull scale around Delphie's neck. The group watches as she brings her long tail to her mouth. Her eyes squeeze shut as she rips off one of her scales, grimacing at the pain. The bleeding patch on her tail quickly heals as a new scale grows in its place. She carefully places the scale in Delphie's hand. "Let me know when you need me again." The dragon exchanges a small smile with the ranger as she takes off to the skies, creating a gust of wind in her wake that almost sends Astarion flying back once again.
As the adventurers reach the Druid's Grove by dusk, the air echoes with the cheers of both tieflings and druids. After establishing their camp, the tieflings enthusiastically decide to join the party for the night, creating a scene of pure joy. Conversations flow between adventurers and tieflings alike, with some engrossed in discussion, others sharing laughter, and a few choosing peaceful solitude. To the delight of everyone, Scratch, the white fluffy dog they found earlier in the week, has traced their scent to the grove and warmly greets each adventurer. Amidst the celebration, tiefling children watch in awe as Delphie directs Vesper and Pax to perform tricks near the fire, their shadows casting mesmerizing images on the ground beside them.
Astarion observes the festivities from the sanctuary of his tent, his focus immediately captured as he watches the two bards coax Delphie into joining their performance.
Alfira sits gracefully on a rustic wooden stool, fingers dancing effortlessly across the strings of her lute. Beside her, Volo plucks at the strings of his lute with nimble fingers. Completing the trio, of course, is Delphie, the serene and graceful elf who enchants the crowd with the ethereal notes emanating from her flute. Her emerald eyes sparkle as she plays, lost in her own enchanting world. Their melodic tunes are a mesmerizing blend of elegance and passion, weaving a tapestry of emotions that resonated with everyone in earshot.
After a few songs, Astarion contemplates retiring for the night. However, his ears prick up as the amassed crowd encourages Delphie to sing. With a nervous chuckle, she reluctantly agrees, prompting cheers from the inebriated tieflings. Volo seizes a hand drum for the chosen song, while Alfira sets the stage by weaving intricate patterns with her strings, creating an atmosphere of mystery and anticipation. She starts playing staccato chords as Delphie begins to sing, her voice mirroring the whimsy of her flute—elegant, soft, yet resonant enough for all to hear. The pace quickens, and Delphie gains confidence, captivating the audience with the enchanting melody.
Astarion finds himself utterly mesmerized by their performance. While the majority of the lyrics elude his memory, as the song nears its conclusion, the last few lines resound in his mind with crystalline clarity:
Where I go, will you still follow?
Will you leave your shaded hollow?
Will you greet the daylight looming?
Learn to love without consuming?
The pale elf returns to his senses just as she sings those lines, locking eyes with her. As the song concludes, she averts her gaze, her face flushed with a shade of red. Astarion, with a content smile on his face, withdraws into his tent as Alfira wraps Delphie in a tight hug, the lingering warmth of their performance filling the air.
The cacophony gradually subsides a few hours later. Numerous tieflings have nestled into the embrace of the night, and Alfira and Volo take turns performing, both visibly fatigued from hours of captivating entertainment. Meanwhile, Astarion stands within his tent, a book in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. His tent is a curious mix of elegance and practicality, reflecting his tastes and preferences.
Despite the tent's small size, the interior is surprisingly spacious and gives the impression of grandeur. Rich, dark fabrics that drape smoothly over the walls give the space a feeling of seclusion and privacy. The otherwise functional space is given a sophisticated touch by the elaborate embroidery on some of the fabrics. An opulent rug covers the floor, cushioning the uneven surface of the dirt and grass beneath.
Both ends of the tent differ from the other, reflecting his contrasting personality. Small candles rest on a few neatly piled books on one end of the tent, with a few wine bottles positioned in front. Lavish blankets and soft pillows cover the floor in the center of the tent. On the other end, however, lies a thin pillow and a blanket that could be mistaken for a rag.
Abruptly, the tent flap moves as a solid force strikes him in the chest. With an exasperated sigh, Astarion shuts his book and pulls the wine bottle away from his mouth. Delphie sits below him, slapping her forehead as her cheeks turn a shade of pink. "Shit."
She's running from someone. The pale elf muses to himself with a cheeky smirk. "That bad, darling?"
Struggling to get to her feet, she winces in embarrassment. She massages the back of her neck with one hand and lets out a nervous chuckle.
"You know, I've never pictured myself as a hero." Astarion delicately holds his wine bottle with one hand, its form embraced like a cherished possession, while Delphie fixes her gaze upon him with eyes reminiscent of gentle doe. "Never thought I'd be the one they toast for saving so many lives. And now that I'm here..." He indulges in a sip of the wine, only to wince as it courses down his throat, leaving an unpleasant burn that fails to satisfy his palate. "I hate it. This is awful."
With an amused glint in them, Delphie playfully rolls her eyes. "But, darling, think of all the goblins you killed."
Astarion nearly erupts into laughter in response to her mocking tone, yet instead, a delightful smile dances across his lips. "True. That was fun. Still, I would've liked more for my trouble than a pat on the head and vinegar for wine."
"The wine can't be that bad." The wood elf shoots him a wry and accusing glance before deftly snatching the bottle from his grasp, taking an audacious gulp. Returning the bottle with a grimace, she endures the liquid's descent down her throat.
"See what I mean? Awful."
"Maybe we can help each other out." Her words spill forth with the innocent cadence of a child, her gaze momentarily drawn to the opulent heap of blankets beneath her feet.
"I'm listening." The pale elf finds amusement in the unfolding scene, his curiosity piqued as he wonders where this unpredictable encounter will lead. The woman before him, full of surprises, keeps him intrigued with each unexpected turn.
"I'm being chased after by almost everyone." Astarion arches an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Wait...I worded that wrong." In unison, they share a chuckle as Delphie finally allows herself to meet Astarion's eyes. "Wyll and Gale both just asked me to dance. Halsin was the one asking to do some rather 'spontaneous trysting' tonight."
The entire camp is well aware of the woman's disinterest in intimate relationships, and they all commend and respect her choice. Nonetheless, it doesn't deter a few from playfully flirting with her. After all, who could resist the allure of a badass draconic sorcerer and ranger as a potential significant other?
"Oh, but I thought you liked Wyll?" Astarion persists in his playful teasing as she starts absentmindedly playing with one of her curls.
"I mean as a friend. Same with Gale." She bites her lip, her gaze shifting between Astarion and the ground, a subtle tension hanging in the air.
Astarion starts narrowing the distance between them, unveiling the gentle gaze beneath his flirtatious exterior. "Then, why decline their invitation? You're among friends after all."
The ranger curls into herself, her face now even redder than before, a mixture of shyness and a tinge of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. "I don't know how."
Astarion pauses for a moment, the smirk on his face expanding as he contemplates his next words. "Are you proposing for me to give you dance lessons?"
The embarrassment on her delicate elven features transforms into mirth, and she giggles. "Those words never left my mouth," she declares as a playful crinkle forms on her nose.
"Forgive me, darling, but I do recall you saying we could help each other out. And then you mentioned something about declining to dance with two very beautiful men because you don't know how," Astarion remarks with flamboyant hand gestures, causing Delphie to giggle slightly louder.
"I guess I did say that," she whispers after managing to pull herself together, a playful glint in her eyes.
"Listen, I'm bored and you're in drastic need of dance lessons. Alfira and the bard are still playing music. And luckily for you, two hundred years of being a magistrate has taught me to be an exceptional dancer."
Delphie finds herself chuckling once again. Gods help me. This man is making me giggle like a little girl. She thinks to herself.
"Think of it as me being a...considerate friend," he continues when she remains silent, a sly smile playing on his lips.
The wood elf rolls her eyes in amusement. "As friends?" she questions, a teasing tone lacing her words.
"Nothing more. Nothing less, darling."
Astarion, ever the refined dancer, extends a hand to Delphie, and she accepts with a subtle nod. They move closer to each other, the tent providing a cocoon of privacy for their slow dance. Astarion's movements are smooth and practiced, guided by the unspoken connection between them. Delphie, in tune with the rhythm, matches his steps with a grace of her own.
Despite dancing as 'friends', the confined space of the tent only intensifies the intimacy of the moment. Shadows play on the fabric walls as Astarion and Delphie sway to the music, their eyes locked in a silent exchange. The outside world seems distant, and time slows down within the confines of his tent.
The snakes on Delphie's wrists elegantly unwind and begin to sinuously glide around both of them, weaving a distinctive tapestry of unity. Gradually, the snakes come to a graceful pause. Vesper gracefully returns to Delphie's wrist, while Pax finds his way to Astarion's. The pale elf's eyes widen in awe as the snake seals their bond. He shares a soft smile with the smaller elf dancing with him.
As they move together, the tent becomes a haven where vulnerabilities can be revealed without fear of judgment. The flickering candlelight accentuates the chemistry between them, creating an atmosphere charged with unspoken emotions. Astarion contemplates the traditional notion of fathers teaching their daughters to dance. Then, a realization dawns on him—she never mentioned anything about her father.
"I know your family is a rather...unpleasant topic to converse upon," he begins slowly, taking a deep breath before continuing.
"Ask anything you'd like," Delphie offers with a soft smile, her eyes glimmering in the delicate light of the flames beside them.
"You've told me about your horrible excuse of a mother, but I don't recall hearing much of your father."
The ranger's smile fades, and her grasp on his shoulder loosens as she averts her gaze from his. "To be honest, Astarion, I don't know anything about him. My mother wouldn't speak of him. When I would ask about him, she would tell me the only father I should be thinking about is Bhaal."
Her body begins to tense, a sensation that Astarion keenly feels in her hand and waist. "Well, he's a shit excuse for a father," he states with a hint of sincere bitterness in his voice.
After a moment, the pale elf feels a sudden, slight weight against his chest. He looks down, noticing Delphie hesitantly laying her head against him, easing into his touch. "Thank you, Astarion," she expresses, her gratitude lingering in the air.
They persist in standing there, swaying in rhythmic harmony, even as the music concludes and the fire gradually diminishes.
"Are you ready to traverse the Underdark?" Her soft voice startles him. Astarion releases a huff of air in response.
"I take it that's a no?" Delphie lifts her head from his chest, meeting his eyes. His demeanor has shifted from their earlier playful banter. His eyes remain soft, but there's an added layer of contentment to his expression.
"You know," he starts, savoring a tranquil breath, "I just got used to the feeling of the sun on my skin without burning to death." His gentle smile wanes. "The Underdark is every bit as foreboding as its name suggests."
"Hmm." The ranger contorts her features for a moment, a playful glint in her eye, before casting him a mischievous look. "What if I could recreate the sun down there?"
Astarion's eyebrows ascend in a playful arch, a spark of amusement dancing in his eyes. "That sounds very dangerous, darling."
"Not like that," she chuckles. "I have something that might help."
He never comprehends the depth of his yearning for her touch until the moment she withdraws it. Holding up an index finger in a gesture of reassurance, she departs from his tent. A few moments later, she reappears, presenting a metallic sword hilt. The grip is intricately ridged, its top curving up into a graceful semi-circle, and the bottom resembling the delicate folds of a paper fan. The hilt, devoid of any blade, is offered before Astarion. The man cocks his head, an amused glint in his eyes.
"Ar Vel, ivae." With her words, a radiant blade materializes from the hilt, illuminating the tent with the warm glow of the sun. Astarion gasps in astonishment at its sudden appearance. "I don't use melee weapons much. I have no use for it. Vesper and Pax are as melee as I get...well, now I guess it's just Vesper," she shares with a soft chuckle, observing the snake coiled around Astarion's wrist, refusing to move. "Ar Vel, nevae." The blade gracefully retracts into the hilt as she hands it to the man, a small smile gracing her lips. "I ended up enjoying the night more than I anticipated," she confides, caressing Astarion's cheek.
In the hushed atmosphere, the two elves find a profound connection as their eyes meet, exchanging unspoken sentiments as always. The ambient energy seems to crystallize in that shared gaze, a silent language conveying emotions too intricate for words. Delphie, with a bittersweet determination, pulls her hand away, releasing a delicate sigh that lingers in the air. "We should get some rest," she suggests, stepping away with a final glance in his direction. "Goodnight, Astarion."
The pale elf observes the tranquil flap of his tent, his crimson orbs shifting back towards the hilt in his hand. "Ar Vel, ivae," he murmurs, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as the blade lights up once more. With the softest expression in his eyes, he whispers, "Thank you, darling," aware that she can't hear his words.
Song: Thus Always To Tyrants by The Oh, Hellos