"What in the infernal gods' name have you done, you idiot of a spellca-" the pointy-eared man growled as I rolled off of him. He smelled like a campfire, which of course, has to be one of my favorite scents.

I recalled my last camping trip with Sarge. It was just me and him…and some weird animal noises that made my skin crawl. I'm pretty sure we were nearly eaten by bears that night. Luckily, Sarge's growls warded off any creatures looking for a snack. Least, that's what I told myself.

"You're certainly not Gale." The man said as I managed to stand, half stumbling.

He abruptly also stood up, which almost made me dizzy just witnessing. Quite the agile person, this pointy-eared man was. Does having red eyes grant you agility?

"I am not. Does this Gale make a habit of falling on you?" I asked slowly, my vision still a little blurry. Was his hair really white? Bleaching my hair was impossible - it was black.

He ignored me and asked instead, "Where the hell am I? And why does the air smell….bitter?" His nose did a funny dance, like Sarge's did when he smelled bacon juice on the floor. Somehow, I had a few brain cells left that managed to cobble together an answer to his odd question.

"This is an apartment in Seattle." I said, searching for my keys.

Where did this man come from? Why was he wearing such a funky costume? I still felt like I had to vomit, and had half a mind to just bolt to my apartment.

Except the man pulled out a knife, which…he just had. Somehow. How did I not notice that? He could have stabbed me. But then again, anyone could have stabbed me with how tipsy I was feeling. Hell, I could have just fallen onto it and that would have been the end of me. No more Blue.

The man scrunched his face up, and demanded, "Your response better not be more nonsense. There is no such place in Faerun as 'Seattle'."

I laughed. Was this guy serious? Was he drunk too? One of those agile-drunkards? I've met one before, but this was my first time meeting someone with white hair like his. It was kind of pretty.

"Very funny. Now can you put that down so I can go home? I think I might vomit. And I wouldn't want to get it on your costume."

The man in front of me lowered his weapon only slightly, "Home? You're…going towards your place of rest?"

This guy was funny, or maybe I was just drunk. "Heh, yeah. My 'place of rest' being an amazing apartment with my dog." Finding my keys, I stood up straighter, trying to pretend that I wasn't seeing stars while doing so. My head hurt.

"Ah, you can speak to animals? Will it attack me?" The man asked. He seemed like he knew something, or figured something out.

"What? No. I mean, I talk to Sarge, but he can't understand me." I pretended not to notice his knife and started for my apartment, the fear of death snuffed out by the symptoms of alcoholic consumption.

The man watched me pass him. He looked around with wide eyes several times, smelling the air. Or whatever someone like him needed to smell. He seemed a little frightened at some unknown presence.

"Wait." The white-haired mystery man called. I was about to open my door and ignore him, but he was suddenly right next to me. Spooked, I looked right up at him.

Right up at deep, maroon-red, haunting eyes that made me believe the saying that the 'eyes were the window to the soul', except this soul was horribly complex.

"I haven't the faintest idea where I am but it seems I'm no longer in Faerun. This place feels…different, and you don't seem threatening to me." His voice was velvety, as if he'd spent many years perfecting the art of speaking.

"Um…thanks?" I unlocked my door.

"Would you mind if, say, I stayed with you? Just for a few moments, so I can figure out how to return to where I came from? At your place of rest?" He smiled in a way that my gut couldn't decide whether to shove him away (which, likely would not be possible since he was a foot taller than me) or invite him in like a new friend.

I recalled his knife. But I also remembered falling on him. And there was an earthquake? Such a strange night.

I wagered that if he wanted to kill me, he would have. No way he didn't know I was tipsy. And something told me he wasn't looking to take advantage of me. The way he was looking around, and his appearance, he seemed lost. Abandoned, even.

"Fine. But first, I need to vomit." I opened my door without listening for his response. I was greeted by Sarge, who immediately began sniffing the man.

Navigating my way to the bathroom down the hallway, I heard grunts from either Sarge or the stranger, but I chalked it up to Sarge doing his nose-in-your-face routine with strangers. Shoving open the door with my palm, I shut it closed and locked it (just in case Mr. White hair did feel like murdering tonight).

Throwing open the toilet lid, I knelt down just in time to release what felt like an entire day's worth of meals and drinks. A wave of relief from the emptiness in my stomach was quickly followed by a fatigue I hadn't felt in a long time, not since a few months ago to celebrate the game's funding.

I leaned against the tub behind me, wiping my face off with toilet paper. Flushing, I closed my eyes, trying to organize my thoughts.

I let a stranger in the apartment.

Right. Shit.

My eyes shot open. What should I do next? Should I get him to leave? He seemed lost. Not my problem. In my attempts to stand, dizziness threatened to pull me back. Steadying myself on the counter, I splashed my face with water. Thank god I skipped the makeup. I must have looked miserable.

Think, Blue. THINK. Shutting my eyes again, the next action had to be getting him out. Or at least, ensuring he was not going to murder me in my sleep, which I hoped would come sooner rather than later. (The sleep, not the murdering. )

I took a moment to fix my hair, a hilarious attempt at making myself seem more serious than I probably looked. It was in a messy bun and half-soaked from the rain. My hoodie was also still wet, so I took it off, and hung it on a towel rack. With a throbbing head, I unlocked my bathroom door.

The living room is an open area that feeds into the hallway and the kitchen. It's a very inviting space, which contradicts the closed-off office at the end of the hallway and the upstairs bedroom, where a second bathroom was. Across from the bathroom I emerged from was the spare bedroom, something I rarely used given I almost never invited anyone to my apartment.

Where I lived wasn't an open inn, whereas my mother, growing up, always believed differently. Our house was always open to her friends, family, and other guests my charismatic parents thought were trustworthy.

I tried to imagine using some sort of gauge they had in their minds for measuring "trustworthiness" against the mysterious stranger, who was currently observing my space with inquisitive or judgemental eyes. Eyes that were also red. (I was having a hard time getting over that.)

Sarge was sniffing him, and the man seemed mildly annoyed at the snot Sarge was leaving on his pants, which seemed a little dirty, now that I was slightly less dazed.

"Does this dog ever leave anyone alone?" He asked, but wasn't backing away from Sarge's prying snout. I ordered Sarge away, and doing so, the man raised his eyebrows. "I thought you said that he couldn't understand you?"

"He knows some commands. But he doesn't…speak english, I guess." I replied.

"English? Does everyone in this realm speak the same tongue?" The stranger asked, looking around him as if he was still lost.

It was in this moment that I felt he was not a threat. At least, not to my immediate self. It seemed like he wasn't sure of what world he was in.

"Yes," as a joke, I added, "and everyone here is also human."

"Really? That can't be possible." His voice was very pleasing to listen to as if everything he said was meant to charm. I tried not to let it annoy me as I struggled to the kitchen to get some water.

"Wish it weren't possible either but here we are. If I had to choose, I'd be like, part sea monster or something. I like the ocean." The ocean. If he wasn't confused already, he certainly should be now given my absolute cringe of an answer.

Between the sound of running water from the kitchen sink, I kept my eyes on him. He kept his on me. As if I was the threat. He also looked mildly confused as to what I was doing.

"So, where exactly am I, as in, what region?" He raised an eyebrow.

After a gulp of water, I affirmed, "I told you, Seattle."

"And that is…?"

I made a face that must have upset him, because he sighed, exasperated, as if I wasn't understanding some simple concept. Placing his hands on his hips, he explained, "Look, this is clearly not Faerun, which is a continent in the region of Toril. Abeir-Toril is the planet where all that is located, which clearly, is entirely different from where I currently have been displaced."

I frowned. I was starting to think this stranger was drunk, and not me.

"There aren't just humans there either. There's all manner of races and monsters." He added. He sounded serious. For a second, I wanted to press further. But I didn't really care because this all sounded made-up, so I asked instead, "So…what are you?"

"Me? I am a high elf. Pleased to meet you." He bowed but kept his gaze in my direction.

Then, he added, "You're…a human? Yes? And quite intoxicated, it seems." Ouch.

"Not wrong. That would explain your ears, then. Where'd you get your costume? I know some cos-players but that's a new level of medieval stuff there, uh…what's your name again?" I asked, trying to will away the buzz.

His eyes momentarily went blank as he must not have understood what I asked, but he responded nonetheless, "Astarion. And yours?"

"Blue."

"Blue?"

"Blue. Like the color."

"I know what blue is. That's just…unique, is all." He eyed what I was drinking, and glanced at the sink.

"Does that device magically produce water?" He must have been joking.

"Um, the sink? Yeah. Do you not have sinks where you're from?" I tried not to laugh at him, as he seemed surprised.

"Not that I have seen as of late."

Awkward silence.

Finishing the glass, I set it down in the sink and walked towards Astarion - which was such a dramatic name, my god - but didn't get too close. He watched, his arm moving slightly behind him, probably reaching for the knife, but something gentle was in his eyes, as if he doubted his instincts.

"Look," I started, trying to sound official like I was at work, "I'm kind of drunk-" Astarion chuckled and said, "kind of?" I ignored him and continued.

"I'm kind of drunk. I'm trusting you, against better judgment, that you're not going to murder me or harm my dog. In fact if you harm my dog, you won't be able to walk." Astarion made a face. I continued, You can stay here until you get your bearings. I'm. Trusting. You. Got it?" I felt a wave of fatigue hit me again as if that took some psychological effort.

Astarion bowed slightly and moved his hand away from his waist. "Of course. You can trust me." Straightening up, he gave me another smile, that made me feel both uneasy and flattered. There was an air of something to Astarion I wasn't sure I understood. As if, some sort of, for lack of a better word, magic, was surrounding him.

"Great. I'm going to bed." Curtly, I began to leave the room, Sarge in tow.

"You can stay in that bedroom across the bathroom." I motioned lazily toward the hallway.

"Wait! Um," Astarion called. I stopped and turned to look at him, puzzled. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean."

"Does…Toril, not have bathrooms?"

"No, we do. But," he walked towards the bathroom and eyed the area suspiciously.

"Whatever all that is, is not, in my centuries of experience, something I recognize as a defecation device," Astarion said, completely serious.

I laughed out loud, which shocked him.

After explaining how to use the toilet and the sink, he eyed the shower head. Despite my better judgment, I showed him how to use it, and added that if he needed to take one, he can, as long as he didn't make a huge mess. Astarion listened with great interest, asking questions like I was giving a lecture. Besides the few snarky comments, he seemed impressed, given where he came from, toilets and showerheads weren't something commonly found. I was starting to doubt that he wasn't serious about not knowing anything about Earth or Seattle.

After this entertaining but exhausting debacle, my eyes were about to fall out of my skull from tiredness.

"Ok. Great. The toilet lesson is over. There are spare towels in the cupboard and the bed is clean. I'm assuming elves need sleep?" I was only half-joking.

"Yes, we do require a long rest now and then. Helps with killing monsters and the like." He smiled, more warmly this time. Genuine.

"Right. Well, the only monsters on Earth are other humans. Good night." I turned away, praying he didn't have any more questions.

He didn't. But I could feel his gaze on me as I went upstairs, pulled off my socks, undid my hair, and collapsed on my bed.