Next to the altar where Wyll lies prone, she approaches Astarion like a lioness, her elongated strides carrying her closer to the vampire spawn, exuding an air of predatory confidence. With each step, her demeanor becomes increasingly feral, echoing the eerie laughter of a hyena echoing through the night. The primal instincts course through her veins, igniting a fiery bloodlust that consumes her senses.
As she draws nearer to him, her grip tightens around the hilt of the dagger, the anticipation painting a malicious grin across her features. It's a grin that's alien in its sadistic pleasure toward someone she cares deeply for. Questions swirl in her mind, but they are swiftly drowned out by the overwhelming rush of adrenaline and excitement.
In the moments before the strike, there's no room for hesitation or remorse. Astarion slowly raises his hands in a futile attempt at defense. With a primal roar echoing in her ears, she launches herself forward.
Emerald eyes flutter open, their brilliance momentarily dulled by the haze of sleep. Delphie's breath catches in her throat as awareness floods back into her senses. There, beside her, lies Astarion, his pallid arm draped around her waist like a haunting reminder of the events of the previous day.
As she begins to regain control of her breathing, a sense of dread creeps into her thoughts. The memory of her own violent actions resurfaces, sending tendrils of fear snaking through her mind. What if I lose control again? What if I hurt him?
Her panicked thoughts grind to a halt as her gaze falls upon his bandaged arm, a stark contrast against the pallor of his skin. Confusion clouds her mind momentarily until the pieces begin to click into place. A flicker of recollection dances across her consciousness, and suddenly, it all comes rushing back to her.
Astarion's defensive stance, his hands raised in protection against her onslaught. The sickening sound of metal slicing flesh, the sight of blood staining the leather of his armor. The realization hits her like a physical blow, and she recoils from him as though his touch were searing hot against her skin.
The sudden movement jolts the vampire spawn from his slumber, his crimson eyes locking onto hers. Yet, despite his gaze, Delphie's attention remains fixated on the bandage encircling his forearm, a visual reminder of the violence she had unleashed.
Slowly and hesitantly, he extends a hand toward her, a silent offer of comfort. However, instead of reaching out to accept it, Delphie recoils, her body trembling as tears cascade down her cheeks. "No, please. I don't want to hurt you again," her voice, barely above a whisper, trembles as she pleads.
The rogue's heart aches at the sight of her distress. With a gentle tone, he attempts to alleviate her fears. "This little thing? Oh, it'll become my most cherished scar once it's done healing, I assure you."
Yet his attempt at levity only seems to deepen her despair, her cries growing more desperate with each passing moment. Realizing his mistake, Astarion moves swiftly to her side, his hands reaching out to grasp her arms firmly, anchoring her to the present moment.
"Listen to me, Delphie," he urges, his voice firm yet compassionate. "Bhaal no longer holds any control over you. Not anymore. You and I, we're free from our tormentors."
"But I hurt you," the wood elf whispers brokenly.
Astarion's grip on her arms softens, his touch gentle as he reassures her with a tender smile. "You would never intentionally hurt me, darling," he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm to her troubled soul. With a slow, deliberate motion, he begins to trace soothing circles into her skin with his thumbs. "You weren't yourself, but I assure you, I'm unscathed. Just a mere scratch. Everything's fine."
His words wash over her like a wave, offering solace in the midst of her turmoil. Unable to find the strength to argue, Delphie relinquishes her resistance and collapses into his embrace, her tears trailing down his bare chest. Astarion enfolds her in his arms, holding her close as she surrenders to her grief.
With tender affection, he presses gentle kisses against the crown of her head, each one a silent vow of unwavering support and devotion. And with each kiss, Delphie feels a flicker of hope ignite within her heart. It's going to be a long road to recovery, she knows, but in that moment, she finds reassurance in the knowledge that they will face it together. As they hold each other close, she dares to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, there is light to be found at the end of the darkness they've endured.
The first rays of dawn filter through the fabric of the tent, casting a soft glow on the elves as they slowly awaken from their shared slumber. Wrapped in each other's arms, they feel the lingering warmth of the night's comfort.
As they stir, their consciousness gradually returns, and they become aware of the faint sounds outside their shelter. With a shared glance, they realize the others must have returned during the night.
Pushing aside the cozy confines of their blankets, they emerge from their makeshift bed, their movements synchronized. Astarion stretches his limbs, feeling the stiffness of sleep relinquish its hold, while Delphie rubs her eyes, blinking away the last remnants of dreams.
Stepping outside the tent, they find their companions bustling about, their forms silhouetted against the burgeoning light of day. Packs are being filled, gear organized, and preparations made for another day of journeying.
The once jovial atmosphere surrounding the campsite seems to dissipate as Delphie takes note of the tension etched on the faces of her companions. Her heart sinks, a pang of worry seizing her chest. Casting a fleeting glance at Astarion, she feels his hand tighten around hers, a silent reassurance amidst the brewing storm.
Approaching Wyll, the wood elf's steps are measured. She knows something is amiss, and the weight of uncertainty hangs heavy in the air.
"Wyll?" Her voice is soft, yet laced with a subtle urgency. The warlock turns to meet her gaze, his usually confident demeanor faltering under the weight of turmoil. Delphie's heart sinks further at the sight of his troubled expression. "What happened?"
Wyll responds with a heavy sigh, his words laden with gravity. "Well, we succeeded in blowing up the Foundry-"
Before he can finish, Shadowheart steps forward, placing a gentle touch of reassurance on his shoulder. "Gortash knows it was us. He'll be hunting us like dogs."
"It's worse than that," the urgency in his tone sends a shiver down Delphie's spine, her emerald eyes widening in comprehension of the grave situation they face. "We need to get to the Iron Throne."
Karlach's fiery presence adds to the intensity of the moment, her words ringing out with a fervor that matches the flames dancing around her. "We think that's where that fuckhead is holding the duke," she interjects, her tone seething with righteous anger.
Wyll's touch on the wood elf's shoulders is gentle yet firm, grounding her amidst the whirlwind of emotions threatening to engulf them all. "My friend," he begins, his voice steady despite the daggers of disapproval piercing him from Astarion's eyes. "We have to leave soon. He doesn't have much time."
The weight of the moment hangs heavy in the air. Slowly, almost reluctantly, the warlock lowers his hands, the tension in his posture easing slightly as he regains his composure. Shadowheart's concerned gaze shifts to the vampire spawn's, a silent exchange that speaks volumes of their shared apprehension.
Both of them are acutely aware of the toll recent events have taken on Delphie, their hearts heavy with concern for her well-being. She has endured more than her fair share of trauma in the past few days, yet here she stands, already contemplating throwing herself back into the fray without taking the time to properly process her losses.
But time is a luxury they cannot afford, a harsh reality that looms over them like a specter in the shadows. The urgency of their mission weighs heavily on their shoulders, pushing them forward even as their hearts ache with worry for their leader.
Astarion's gaze shifts to Delphie, his eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation or doubt. Yet, he only sees the determination burning bright within her, a fierce resolve that refuses to be dimmed by the darkness that surrounds them.
"Let's go," she declares, her voice steady despite the turmoil raging within her. Her eyes meet Wyll's, locked in a silent challenge that speaks volumes of her determination to see this through to the end.
"Thank you, Del," Wyll responds, his gratitude tinged with a hint of sadness as he begins to move toward the teleportation circle. "We'll wait for you two at the portal."
Shadowheart shares one last concerned look with Astarion before following him, her steps echoing his as they make their way down the rocky pavement.
The blaring alarms cut through the air like a knife, their piercing wail signaling imminent danger. The wood elf's senses, honed by years of survival in the wilderness, detect the urgency before it fully registers in the minds of her companions. As the shrill sound reverberates around them, her heart quickens with a sense of impending doom, the weight of responsibility pressing down upon her shoulders.
They had ventured into the underwater prison aboard a submersible, their mission veiled in secrecy and fraught with peril. But their plans had been thwarted by Gortash, who caught them with one hand in the cookie jar. With a single command, he initiates the self-destruct procedure of the Iron Throne, sealing their fate in a countdown to catastrophe. They only have a few minutes before the entire prison becomes a watery tomb.
"Shit. We need to get as many of them out as possible," Delphie declares, her voice ringing out above the chaos. Despite the looming threat, her resolve remains unshaken, her determination a beacon of hope amidst the encroaching darkness. And as her words echo in the chamber, they are met with unanimous agreement from her comrades, their expressions grim yet resolute in the face of adversity.
With practiced efficiency, the group divides into pairs, each pair instinctively knowing their role in the rescue effort. Astarion and Delphie share a silent nod of understanding before setting off together, their footsteps echoing against the slick floors as they race against time. As they navigate the labyrinthine corridors of the prison, the sound of rushing water grows louder, the murky liquid seeping steadily into their path.
Suddenly, their progress is halted as two grotesque creatures emerge from the shadows, their fish-like features sending a shiver down Delphie's spine. With gills flaring and webbed feet poised for attack, the creatures block their path.
"Darling, you can befriend fish, right?" Astarion inquires, his fingers already gravitating towards the familiar weight of the radiant blade at his belt.
With a casual shrug, the wood elf offers a response tinged with dry humor, her tone light despite the tension crackling in the air. "Only reptiles, I'm afraid," she quips, her lips quirking into a wry smile as she prepares to unleash her arcane powers upon their aquatic adversaries.
Drawing upon the natural energies around her, Delphie channels her magic with practiced ease, her hands held out in front of her as she utters an incantation under her breath. Suddenly, a surge of raw purple energy erupts from under her, hurtling towards the sahuagin with explosive force.
Caught off guard by the unexpected onslaught, the creatures are thrown off balance, their webbed feet slipping on the slick surface as they are knocked back by the magical blast. Seizing the opportunity, the ranger gestures toward the cells, her silent command clear: it's time to spring into action.
With a nod of understanding, Astarion wastes no time, swiftly moving to pick the locks of the nearby cells with deft precision. As the metal mechanisms click open under his skilled touch, the imprisoned victims emerge from their confines, their expressions a mix of relief and gratitude as they realize they've been granted a chance at escaping the hellish prison caging them.
As emerald eyes sweep the chaos-ridden scene, Delphie's gaze lands upon a young woman bound to a chair. Determination ignites within her heart, propelling her into action with a swift glance toward Astarion.
"Cover me!" she shouts, her voice cutting through the din as the sahuagin begin to rise once more.
A mischievous glint dances in the spawn's crimson eyes as he acknowledges her directive. With a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, he gracefully maneuvers through the throngs of victims.
In a mesmerizing display of elven grace and vampiric speed, Astarion leaps into the air, his bow drawn taut with deadly intent. With the precision of a master marksman, he takes aim at their assailants, his focus unwavering as he locks onto his targets with deadly accuracy.
With a flick of his wrist, he releases the arrow—a gleaming shaft of death propelled toward its intended mark with lethal force. It finds its target, embedding itself in the flesh of the nearest sahuagin with a satisfying thud, the creature staggering back under the impact. But his aim is true, and without missing a beat, the arrow continues its relentless trajectory, sailing onward to its next target.
Delphie darts past the semi-aquatic creatures, her lithe form weaving through the chaos with effortless agility. In a swift and fluid motion, her nimble fingers snatch one of the pale elf's sheathed daggers from his belt as she maneuvers toward the restrained woman.
Meanwhile, the rogue unleashes a relentless barrage of attacks upon their assailants, his movements a blur of speed and precision as he wields his radiant blade with deadly efficiency. The sahuagin, caught off guard by the ferocity of his assault, find themselves overwhelmed by the vampire spawn's relentless onslaught, their blood staining the floor as their life force slowly drains away.
As Delphie works to free the captive woman from her bonds, a sense of urgency gnaws at her insides like a ravenous beast. "Get them to the submersible! I'm right behind you!" she calls out. Yet, as she glances toward Astarion, she detects a subtle shift in his expression—a dimming of the mischievous spark in his eyes, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty.
For a moment, the vampire spawn hesitates, his reluctance clear as day as he stands rooted to the spot, torn between his instinct to protect Delphie and their mission. But the wood elf knows that there is no time for hesitation.
"Astarion, I'll be fine!" she reassures him, her voice steady and unwavering as she implores him to trust her. "They need you to guide them!"
At last, he acquiesces, his resolve firming as he gestures for the victims to follow. With a final nod, the vampire spawn leads the way, his footsteps echoing down the corridor as he guides the survivors toward safety.
Meanwhile, Delphie focuses her attention on the task at hand as she swiftly cuts through the last of the restraints binding the woman. But even as the woman scrambles to her feet and flees to freedom, danger lurks in the shadows, poised to strike at any moment.
Another sahuagin emerges from the depths, its movements swift and relentless as it closes in on the ranger with predatory intent. With lightning-fast reflexes honed by years of survival in the wild, she dodges the creature's attack at the last possible moment. Yet, her victory is short-lived as a net of ropes suddenly ensnares her, entangling her in its unforgiving embrace.
"Run! Get out of here!" Delphie's voice rings out. With a sense of desperation, the woman obeys, disappearing into the darkness as she leaves the wood elf to face her fate alone.
Aboard the cramped confines of the submersible, Astarion and Wyll work tirelessly to assist the rescued victims as they navigate the precarious transition from the ladder to the vessel's floor.
"We have the duke. Let us leave, now," Lae'zel's impatience fills the air surrounding them, earning a glare from the half-elf behind her.
As the last of the victims clambers aboard, the vampire spawn's watchful gaze sweeps across the chamber, his crimson eyes burning with a flicker of concern as their leader has yet to return. Despite the urgency of their situation, he finds himself unable to shake the sense of foreboding that clings to him like a shadow.
"Shit," the rogue curses under his breath, his voice a low growl of frustration as he struggles to suppress the rising tide of fear that threatens to overwhelm him. With each passing moment, the apprehension tightens its grip around his undead heart, squeezing tighter with every beat.
Unable to ignore the sense of dread that gnaws at his insides, Astarion finally gives in to the pull of his instincts. With a determined resolve, he descends the ladder once more.
"Astarion, where are you—" Wyll's voice trails off.
"Don't leave without us," the vampire spawn interrupts, his tone leaving no room for argument.
The words hang heavy in the air, a solemn vow that resonates with unspoken determination. Though his voice may waver, Astarion's decision remains sure as he sets forth on his quest to find Delphie. With a final nod of reassurance to Wyll, he disappears into the darkness, crimson eyes burning with an intensity born of desperation.
The water rises around him, its cold embrace creeping up to his shins like a chilling omen of the dangers that lie ahead. With each step he takes, the weight of his fears presses down upon him like a leaden burden, threatening to crush him beneath its relentless weight.
A surge of panic courses through his veins, his mind overrun by a tempest of self-recrimination and doubt. Why did he agree to leave Delphie's side? What if she's hurt? The thought claws at his consciousness.
It's his fault, he knows it deep inside. If anything were to happen to her, he would bear the blame on himself. He shouldn't have left her alone, vulnerable to the dangers that lurk in the shadows of this blasted underwater prison. He should have argued with her, insisted on staying by her side to face whatever may come together like they always do. Like they promised they always would.
But now, as he retraces his steps through the flooded corridors, the echoes of his footsteps mingling with the relentless drumming of his unbeating heart, he is consumed by a sense of helpless frustration. Each passing moment feels like an eternity, the uncertainty of Delphie's fate gnawing at him with every step he takes.
Yet, despite the overwhelming tide of fear threatening to engulf him, he presses on, driven by a single, unwavering purpose: to find her, no matter the cost. And so, with every ounce of determination he possesses, he continues, his heart aching with the desperate hope of reuniting with the one person who means more to him than life itself.
Turning the corner of one of the flooded halls, Astarion's heart skips a beat as he catches sight of her, ensnared in a tangled net beside a menacing sahuagin. The water slowly rises to the small ledge she lies on. With each passing moment, the danger grows more imminent, threatening to swallow her whole in its relentless embrace.
As the sahuagin lunges at her, the wood elf's reflexes kick into overdrive, her movements graceful yet frantic as she attempts to evade the creature's attacks. But in her struggle, she only succeeds in becoming further entangled in the unforgiving net, her predicament growing more dire by the second.
Without a moment's hesitation, Astarion springs into action, his instincts taking over as he pulls back an arrow. Time seems to slow to a crawl as he takes aim, his focus unwavering as he zeroes in on his target.
With a swift release, the arrow hurtles through the air like a streak of silver lightning as it lands with a resounding thud at the feet of the sahuagin. In an instant, the creature is sent reeling backward, its momentum halted by the unexpected impact.
As the vampire spawn lands gracefully in front of the stunned creature, a sense of relief washes over him. With practiced efficiency, he activates the radiant blade in his hand, its brilliant glow illuminating the dim confines of the flooded chamber. Without hesitation, he plunges it into the chest of the sahuagin, the creature's agonized shriek echoing through the waterlogged corridors as its life is extinguished in an instant.
Not wasting a single precious moment, Astarion swiftly turns his attention to Delphie, his movements swift and sure as he begins to cut away the ropes that bind her. "You had a dagger—"
"Had," the wood elf interjects, her voice tinged with a note of exasperation as she gestures towards the blade submerged in the water on the other side of the room.
"You have magic—"
"Magic-resistant ropes," she deadpans as she watches the pale elf work to free her.
Finally, with a deft stroke of the blade, Astarion cuts a hole large enough for her to escape through. With her golden wings stretched out behind her, she wastes no time seizing the opportunity, her movements fluid and graceful as she grabs hold of Astarion underneath his arms.
With a grunt of effort, Delphie flaps her wings to propel them both out of the waist-deep water and into the air above. She grits her teeth against the strain as she struggles to maintain altitude, her golden wings beating against the air with all the strength she can muster.
With Astarion's weight dragging them down, each flap of her wings feels like an uphill battle, the water below threatening to swallow them whole with every passing moment. Despite her best efforts, their feet occasionally brush against the surface of the rising water, sending ripples cascading outwards in their wake.
Summoning the last reserves of her energy, the wood elf pushes herself to the brink as she propels them towards the submersible looming in the distance. With the hatch within reach, she channels every ounce of strength she possesses, her muscles burning with exertion as she guides them through the narrow opening, crashing them both onto the floor of the vessel. Ignoring the sharp pain radiating from her back, she shields the pale elf from the worst of the fall, taking the brunt of the impact upon herself.
Before Delphie can utter a word, Astarion's lips crash against hers in a rough, desperate kiss. His touch is urgent, almost frantic, as if he's trying to convey a thousand emotions all at once. The taste of saltwater lingers on their lips, a bitter reminder of the peril they've just narrowly escaped.
"Don't you ever do that again," he murmurs against her lips, his voice rough with emotion as he presses his forehead against hers. His thumbs gently caress her cheeks, tracing the lines of her face.
"Don't do what?" the wood elf's voice carries a note of genuine confusion as she searches his crimson orbs for answers, her brow furrowed in concern.
A sigh escapes his lips as he struggles to find the words to express the tumult of emotions swirling within him. "Ask me to leave you like that," he finally responds, his voice laced with a raw vulnerability.
In that moment, the memories of the promise they had made to each other just a few nights ago flood back to Delphie, her heart breaking at the realization of the pain she had unwittingly caused him. Without a second thought, she pulls him close, her arms wrapping around him in a tight embrace as they cling to each other amidst the chaos of their surroundings.
In the warmth of their embrace, both elves find solace, their hearts beating in unison as they draw strength from each other's presence.
The sound of a throat being cleared cuts through the air, breaking the tender silence that envelops them. Delphie's cheeks flush with color as she reluctantly pulls away from their embrace, her heart still racing from the intensity of their shared moment.
Astarion's gaze narrows as he glares up at Gale, his crimson eyes flashing with irritation. "Do you mind, wizard?"