She's got a smile that it seems to me
Reminds me of childhood memories
Where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky
Now and then when I see her face
She takes me away to that special place
And if I stare too long, I'd probably break down and cry
~Sweet Child O' Mine, Guns N' Roses
Fraygo's Flophouse was a haven for misfits, a sanctuary for the lost and the forsaken. Its walls echoed with the raucous laughter of patrons from all walks of life, each one seeking solace in the embrace of the dimly lit tavern. But even in a place as notorious as Fraygo's, there were moments that defied expectation – moments when the ordinary gave way to the extraordinary.
So when the innocent-looking elven woman pushed open the tavern door, the rowdy room fell silent in awe. All eyes turned to her, their gazes lingering on her figure with a mixture of curiosity and desire.
Astarion watched from his shadowy corner as she stepped into the dim light of the tavern, her presence commanding attention despite her unassuming demeanor. She was absolutely breathtaking – a vision of ethereal beauty amidst the grime and squalor of Fraygo's.
Long, blonde curls spilled from beneath her red hooded cloak, framing her delicate features in a halo of golden light. Large violet eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief, their depths betraying a wisdom far beyond her years. A button nose and rosy cheeks adorned her pale face, lending her an air of innocence that belied the danger that lurked within.
It was impossible not to notice the effect she had on the patrons of Fraygo's – the way their eyes lingered on her form, the way their hearts quickened at the sight of her beauty. For the pale elf, however, his gaze was drawn not by lust, but by curiosity.
In a tavern filled with thieves and brigands, what business could such an innocent-looking woman possibly have? It was a question that gnawed at Astarion's mind, driving him to unravel the mystery that lay hidden beneath her seemingly unassuming facade.
And as he watched her weave through the crowded tavern with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly, Astarion couldn't help but wonder what secrets she carried with her.
The young elven woman settled onto a stool beside a burly man with a long scar etched across his weathered face. Despite the rough exterior of the tavern's patrons, she exuded an aura of innocence and charm that was impossible to ignore.
Astarion observed from the shadows, his curiosity piqued by the unfolding scene before him. He watched intently as the woman flashed a sweet smile at the scarred man, her violet eyes sparkling with an inner light that seemed to captivate those around her.
As she engaged the man in conversation, her laughter rang out like a bell, so sweet and melodious that it bordered on suspicious. Astarion's lips curled into a grimace as he witnessed the man's blatant interest, his hand inching ever closer to the woman's thigh despite the rising tension of her muscles.
But just as the man's fingers brushed against her skin, the atmosphere shifted once again. A hushed exchange passed between them, the woman's words barely audible over the din of the tavern. Whatever she said seemed to send a shiver down the man's spine, his hand recoiling as if burned by an unseen fire.
Astarion's eyes widened in shock as the scene before him unfolded with alarming speed. In an instant, the innocent facade of the elven woman shattered, revealing the true depths of her deception. With a swift motion, she unsheathed a dagger from her boot.
Before anyone could react, the woman lunged forward. Astarion's breath caught in his throat as he watched in horror as the blade found its mark, gouging deep into the scarred man's eye with a sickening squelch.
The tavern erupted into chaos as the man's screams pierced the air, his agony echoing off the walls like a macabre symphony. But the woman showed no mercy, slamming his head into the table. The blade in his eye made a sickening sound as it pierced through his thick skull, sending shockwaves of revulsion through the onlookers.
As golden curls whipped around her face, the woman turned to face the angry mob of patrons, her eyes flashing with a fierce determination. With an almost unnatural speed, she grabbed her basket and made a break for the entrance.
As Astarion watched the enigmatic woman vanish into the night, a strange and inexplicable impulse gripped his heart with an ironclad hold. It was as though an unseen force tugged at his very essence, urging him to follow in her wake. He couldn't explain it, couldn't rationalize it, but there was something about her – something that set her apart from the countless souls that had crossed his path in Fraygo's Flophouse.
She had inflicted pain without hesitation, yet there was a peculiar allure to her presence – a magnetic pull that defied reason and logic. Despite the chaos she had wrought, she radiated an aura of comfort, a sense of familiarity that whispered to him in the depths of his soul.
And so, he followed.
Astarion knew he was straying from his purpose, abandoning his duty to procure a new victim for his master. The consequences of returning empty-handed would be dire, to say the least – punishment meted out with a cruelty that made even his undead heart quiver with fear.
But in that moment, none of it mattered. All he could think about was her – the woman with the golden curls and the violet eyes that held secrets untold. It was as though a spell had been cast over him, clouding his judgment and dulling his senses to all else but the pulsating need to be near her.
Surely, he would come to regret his decision later, when the weight of his failure bore down upon him with the crushing force of inevitability. But for now, his body moved of its own accord, driven by a primal instinct that defied reason.
As Astarion caught up to her in the dimly lit alleyway beside the Stormshore Tabernacle, his keen senses took note of her composed demeanor. Despite the exertion of their chase, she seemed remarkably unfazed. The corners of his lips twitched upward in admiration; it wasn't often that someone managed to surprise him.
With a silent grace that belied his predatory nature, Astarion closed the distance between them. He was accustomed to the rush of adrenaline that accompanied the pursuit, but for once, there was something different in the air – a tension that seemed to crackle between them, palpable even in the shadowy alley.
As she pivoted on her foot, their eyes locked in a silent exchange that spoke volumes.
"You're from the bar," she whispered as if the empty streets were filled with people.
For once in his long and storied existence, Astarion found himself utterly speechless. It was a sensation as unfamiliar as it was unsettling, a rare moment of vulnerability that sent a shiver down his spine. As her apple-red lips quirked into a sly smile, he felt the weight of her gaze upon him like a physical touch, sending a jolt of electricity through his veins.
In the span of a heartbeat, Astarion snapped out of his momentary daze, his instincts kicking into overdrive. With practiced precision, he summoned forth his charming facade, his features morphing into a coy smile that masked the turmoil raging within. It was a skill honed over centuries of deception and manipulation, a finely crafted mask that concealed the complexities of his true nature.
"Well, aren't you the observant one," he purred, his voice dripping with honeyed charm as he effortlessly regained his composure. "But then again, I always did stand out in a crowd."
As he spoke, Astarion's nimble fingers danced with practiced ease, employing the subtle art of sleight of hand to pluck a pristine white handkerchief from the depths of her cloak. With a flourish, he presented it to the woman before him.
"And you dropped this on your way out," he continued smoothly, his tone laced with a hint of playful mischief as he extended the offering towards her.
The woman accepted the handkerchief with a knowing smirk, her violet eyes gleaming with amusement. There was a fire in her gaze that both intrigued and unnerved him, a spark of defiance that refused to be extinguished.
"How often does that cute little trick work on all your lovers?" she quipped, her words laced with a teasing edge that caught him off guard.
A nervous chuckle escaped from Astarion's lips, betraying the confident facade he had carefully constructed. Her teasing words had caught him off guard, a rare occurrence for one so adept at maintaining his composure. It was as though she possessed a talent for unraveling the layers of his carefully crafted persona, leaving him feeling strangely exposed.
But Astarion was not one to let his guard down so easily. With a swift motion, he readjusted his mask, the familiar guise of charm and wit settling back into place like a well-worn cloak.
"I'm Ruby," she greeted with a chuckle, extending her hand toward him. "Well, technically Ruby-Alazne, but just Ruby is fine."
Astarion accepted her hand with a grace born of centuries of refinement. There was a warmth in her eyes that softened the edges of his defenses, a glimmer of genuine connection that he couldn't quite ignore.
"A pleasure," he replied, his voice smooth and velvety as he pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her hand. "My name is Astarion."
As they walked together under the canopy of the night sky in the Lower City, Astarion found himself falling into step beside Ruby almost effortlessly. There was a certain magnetism to her presence, a captivating blend of contradictions that intrigued him more with each passing moment. With no destination in mind, they wandered aimlessly through the labyrinthine streets, their footsteps echoing in the quietude of the night.
He hadn't even realized they had begun walking together until the rhythm of their steps synchronized beneath the twinkling stars above. There was something undeniably alluring about the way Ruby moved through the world – a delicate balance of strength and vulnerability that drew him in like a moth to a flame.
"Sorry about what happened back there. At Fraygo's, I mean," Ruby spoke suddenly, her voice tinged with a hint of embarrassment as a soft blush painted her cheeks.
Astarion turned his gaze towards her, his curiosity piqued by her sudden confession. "Tell me, darling," he inquired, his tone laced with genuine interest. "What were you doing there? Fraygo's is no place for a lady such as yourself."
At his words, Ruby's expression soured, her steps faltering as she came to a halt in the midst of the street. With a defiant tilt of her chin, she crossed her arms over her chest, her violet eyes flashing with indignation.
"Excuse me," she retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'll have you know I'm not as innocent as you seem to believe."
A large smirk adorned Astarion's face as he gazed at Ruby, his curiosity piqued by her cryptic response. "Trust me, I saw that attack. Who are you, Ruby-Alazne?" he queried.
Ruby merely shrugged in response, her demeanor nonchalant despite the weight of his inquiry. "Some call me a slayer. Others call me a savior. Alas, I'm just an average monster hunter," she replied with a casual air, as though her profession were nothing more than a mundane occupation.
As her words sank in, another chill ran down Astarion's spine, a cold shiver that seemed to pierce straight through to his core. Did she know what he was? The thought sent a surge of unease coursing through him, a primal instinct warning him of the danger that lurked beneath her seemingly innocuous facade. Then again, he'd rather succumb to death by her hand than return to Cazador empty-handed.
But before he could voice his concerns, Ruby continued speaking, her words slicing through the tension like a blade through the night air. "That man back there was a werewolf and a predator to children," she explained matter-of-factly, her gaze steady as she met Astarion's wide-eyed stare.
For a moment, he was rendered speechless by her revelation, his mind reeling at the implications of her words. Did she expect him to be relieved? Grateful, even? The notion was absurd, and yet there was a flicker of something akin to gratitude stirring within him – a twisted gratitude for the reprieve from his own impending demise.
"Oh, don't worry," Ruby continued, her voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "I don't kill just any 'monsters,' just the bad ones."
The pale elf felt his mask beginning to slip once again, the carefully constructed façade crumbling beneath the weight of her revelation. With trembling hands, he reached up to straighten it, a futile attempt to conceal the truth that lay beneath the surface.
"Whatever do you mean, my dear?" he stammered, his voice betraying the uncertainty that churned within him. It was a feeble attempt to deflect her accusation, a desperate plea for reprieve from the judgment that loomed over him like a shadow.
But Ruby was not so easily swayed by his words. With a snort of amusement, she dismissed his feeble attempt at deception.
"You're not as deceitful as you believe," she retorted, her voice tinged with a hint of triumph. "I know you're a vampire spawn, Astarion."
At her words, he felt something within him snap – the last vestiges of his carefully constructed facade crumbling away to reveal the truth that lurked beneath. His mask fell to the ground with a soft thud, forgotten in the wake of her revelation.
He broke.
His crimson eyes widened in shock and disbelief, the truth of her words searing through him like a branding iron. In that moment, he was stripped bare, his vulnerabilities laid for all to see.
As Astarion stood there, his crimson eyes wide with shock and fear, he found himself caught off guard by Ruby's unexpected response. The woman's violet eyes mirrored his own momentary astonishment, a fleeting glimpse of understanding passing between them like a whisper in the night.
"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone," she reassured him, her voice gentle despite the weight of their shared secret. "Trust me, I'm a dhampir. I know how it feels. The neverending hunger. Though I can't imagine not being able to stand in the sun."
A flicker of recognition sparked within Astarion's mind at her words. Dhampir – the offspring of a vampire and a mortal. It was a rare and enigmatic lineage, one that held a unique understanding of the struggles that plagued his kind. No wonder why she was so intriguing… she was part vampire.
Her admission struck a chord within him, stirring a whirlwind of conflicting emotions that threatened to overwhelm his senses.
A hint of remorse painted Ruby's features, a shadow of regret that tugged at Astarion's heartstrings. "I'm sorry you have to live with that," she offered softly, her words carrying the weight of empathy born from her own struggles.
But even as Astarion grappled with the revelations unfolding before him, a nagging question lingered at the back of his mind. Why was she being so open? Why was she so trusting?
"Why are you telling me all of this? I don't even know you."
Ruby sighed, her breath hanging in the chilly night air like a wisp of smoke. With a resigned shrug, she resumed walking, her footsteps echoing in the quietude of the deserted alleyway. "If I'm going to be honest," she began, her voice tinged with a note of vulnerability, "I've never met a vampire spawn before. When I saw you in Fraygo's, I saw that look in your eyes. You're being controlled by your master, aren't you?"
The words hung between them like a veil of shadows. Astarion felt a surge of apprehension knotting in the pit of his stomach as he met Ruby's unwavering gaze, her amethyst orbs betraying a depth of understanding that sent a shiver down his spine.
For a moment, he found himself lost in the swirling depths of her gaze, searching for answers that remained just out of reach. Was she friend or foe? Ally or adversary? The uncertainty gnawed at him like a festering wound, a reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows of the night.
He cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away from hers as he struggled to regain his composure. "Of course, I'm being controlled by my master," he admitted bitterly, his words heavy with the weight of centuries of servitude. "I am a vampire spawn, after all."
He could've sworn he'd seen her eyes well up, a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability that stirred something within him – a glimmer of empathy born from their shared torment. But in the darkness of the night, he couldn't be sure. The air around him felt thick with tension, suffocating him with its oppressive weight.
Ruby reached for her basket, her movements fluid and purposeful as she rummaged through its contents. "Basket of Holding," she explained casually, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. Astarion watched with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation as she delved deeper, her slender fingers probing the depths until she found what she was looking for.
It was an odd tome, filled with writing that might as well have been written by a toddler. Astarion's gaze narrowed as Ruby flipped through the pages, her finger trailing down one of them with a sense of purpose that sent a shiver down his spine.
"Is his name, Cazador Szarr?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it reverberated through the stillness of the night like a thunderclap.
The mere mention of his master's name made Astarion feel smaller than he'd ever felt before, a sense of dread settling over him like a suffocating blanket. The air around him seemed to grow thick and toxic, a deadly poison that threatened to consume him whole.
He realized he was hyperventilating, his breath coming in ragged gasps as panic seized hold of him with merciless claws. Without warning, a warm hand touched his arm, grounding him in the present moment with a jolt of clarity. The sensation was fleeting, yet it was enough to anchor him in the tumultuous sea of his emotions.
Then, as suddenly as it had come, the feeling was gone, leaving nothing but a lingering sense of unease in its wake. Astarion glanced up to find Ruby looking at him with a gentle, remorseful smile, her eyes filled with a depth of understanding that he couldn't begin to fathom.
He quickly pulled his arm away, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to regain his composure. With a clearing of his throat, he attempted to mask the turmoil raging within him.
At the palpable shift in Astarion's demeanor, Ruby's smile faltered, her expression sobering as she took in the gravity of his reaction.
"My job is to make sure monsters like Cazador are gone for good," she spoke softly, her voice tinged with determination. "I've been tracking him down for some time. Must have been fate for me to have met you."
Astarion scoffed, the bitterness in his tone mirroring the anguish that gnawed at his soul. "Well, you might as well stop while you can. Anyone who has ever gone after Cazador has never lived to tell the tale."
The words hung between them like a curse, a grim reminder of the countless lives that had been snuffed out in the pursuit of vengeance. For centuries, Cazador had remained untouchable, his power and influence casting a shadow over all who dared to challenge him.
But Ruby's resolve remained unshaken, her gaze steady as she met Astarion's defiant stare. With a graceful motion, she closed the tome and tossed it carelessly back into her basket, her movements imbued with a sense of quiet confidence.
"Luckily for you, I'm not just anyone," she declared, a confident smirk settling on her lips. It was a gesture of defiance – a silent vow to stand against the darkness that threatened to consume him.
Astarion's heart clenched at her words, a surge of fear mingling with a flicker of hope that danced on the edges of his consciousness. Ruby may have been skilled and determined, but she did not understand the true extent of Cazador's power – the depths of his cruelty and malice.
"Ruby, you don't understand what he's capable of."
As Ruby began to open her mouth to argue, her head suddenly throbbed with a sharp, searing pain. The intensity of it caused her to double over, her hands instinctively flying to cover her ears as if to shield herself from the onslaught. Astarion awkwardly stood above her, unsure of what to do.
But before he could even process what was happening, Ruby reached out for his hand with a desperate urgency, her fingers clenching around his wrist with a vice-like grip. Despite the turmoil raging within her, she pulled herself up with his support, her cries of pain echoing in the darkness of the alley.
"We're not safe here," she gasped, her voice strained with anguish as she stumbled forward, her grip on Astarion's wrist never wavering.
Astarion's mind raced with a whirlwind of confusion and fear as he struggled to make sense of the chaos unfolding before him. He stopped in his tracks, pulling the dhampir back with him.
"What the hells is going on, Ruby?" he demanded, his voice tinged with frustration and concern as he yanked his hand free from her grasp.
But Ruby could offer no answer, her cries of pain drowning out his words as she reached out to him once more, desperation etched into every line of her face. He kept his hand just out of her reach, his own sense of self-preservation overriding any semblance of trust or empathy.
"Please, Astarion," she whimpered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm trying to help."
"Tell me what the fuck is going on!" he demanded, his voice ringing out into the night with a sternness born of desperation. But beneath the surface, there lingered a seed of doubt – a nagging suspicion that gnawed at his resolve like a festering wound.
Ruby's response was lost amidst the cacophony of her own torment. She held her hands over her ears once more, her body wracked with sobs as if tormented by invisible demons. Tears streamed down her face, mingling with the shadows that cloaked her features in darkness.
Astarion watched in stunned silence as Ruby begged him to believe her, her words lost in the tumult of her anguish. But try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to trust her – not when the world around them seemed to be unraveling at the seams, not when she was acting like a madwoman lost in the throes of her own delusions.
In that moment, Astarion found himself torn between conflicting impulses – the urge to flee from the madness that threatened to consume them both, and the desperate need to uncover the truth that lay hidden beneath the surface of their fractured reality. But try as he might, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Ruby's plight than met the eye – a truth that lurked just beyond his grasp, waiting to be uncovered.
Astarion's heart raced as Ruby collapsed onto the cold cobblestone street before him, her body contorting into a trembling ball of fear and agony. He felt a surge of panic rising within him, a primal instinct urging him to flee from the unseen horrors that lurked in the shadows.
But before he could react, Ruby's voice pierced through the darkness, weak and trembling. "Astarion," she whimpered, her words barely more than a whisper as she weakly pointed behind him. "Mind flayers."
His blood ran cold at the mention of the dreaded creatures – aberrations from the darkest depths of the Underdark, with minds as alien and incomprehensible as the void itself. He turned, his heart pounding in his chest, to confront the threat that loomed behind him.
The last thing he saw was piercing eyes gleaming in the darkness, their gaze filled with a hunger that sent a shiver down his spine. And then, there was the tentacled maw, gaping wide with anticipation as it surged forward to consume him whole.
Astarion's world exploded into darkness, his senses overwhelmed by the onslaught of psychic energy that engulfed him. His mind reeled, a cacophony of voices echoing through his consciousness like a chorus of the damned. And then, everything went black.