As Astarion woke and opened his eyes, he saw Mazelyn sitting with her back to him. The faint, green orb-like glow of a healing spell emanated from her neck, casting dim light inside the tent like a gleaming gas lantern, but with a serene, emerald hue. Under the soft light were two puncture wounds from where he had fed on her the night before while she was asleep. As the glow repeatedly dimmed and brightened, Astarion noticed a piece of chained jewelry wrapped around Mazelyn's hand. It was the amulet of Sylvanus, the restorative charm they had found back in the Emerald Grove.
Astarion silently sat up, his gaze lingering on Maze as she cast the spell. Almost unconsciously, his hand reached up, fingers brushing the side of his own neck. There were the scars he wanted to deny forever, but unmistakable—the two deep indentations, tactile whenever he touched them. The torn and poorly closed marks were burned into his memory; even if he couldn't see them, they were always tangible to his touch, though he rarely reached for them intentionally.
Lost in thought, Astarion kept running his fingers over his neck, and as her wound was nearly closed under the spell, Maze caught his gaze.
"What's on your mind?" her voice startled him slightly. He met her eyes, and when the emerald light faded, the sudden darkness filled the tent and the space between them. Only the dawn light and the warm flickering campfire slipped through the tent's flap. Astarion held her gaze for a moment before his eyes drifted back to the spot on her neck where the wound had been.
"It's gone. Not a trace…" he muttered under his breath. "Such a quick, passing thing it is."
Maze raised an eyebrow, noticing his unusual tone. "Upset the mark you left on me is gone?" she teased with a playful voice.
"No. It's just…" he responded quickly, as if slightly irritated.
There was a brief silence. As Maze's playful smile began to fade, Astarion spoke again, his voice more composed this time.
"There was no one to care for my scars back then. No person, no time, not even a single second to heal them… I had nothing." His voice was calm but heavy.
Astarion's gaze drifted away, his hand gently resting on his neck, covering his wounds, arm balanced on his raised knee. Maze sensed his mood, slowly drifting her gaze in the same direction as his. The crackling sound of the fire filled the silence, seeming to gradually intensify, tightning the air around them.
Astarion shifted his focus back to her, his eyes searching her profile.
"Guess I'm used to them by now. The scars, I mean." His voice was soft but filled with a quiet weight. "Maybe that's why… the idea of someone caring for them now seems too… foreign. Too much like a dream."
Maze looked up and met his eyes for the briefest of moments, feelings caught between sadness and something more resonating deep within her.
"I..." she finally exhaled, more a sigh than anything. She could have said she was sorry, but she knew that "sorry" wouldn't mean much to him—not that she wanted it to, either. She looked away, unsure of how to continue.
Maze shifted to lean toward him but then slowly drew back. She didn't reach out for him; instead her hand moved to trace her own large scar running from the top of her head down to her face. Astarion's eyes followed along her fingertip. She ran her fingers lightly across it, tracing the rough edges as if trying to ground herself in the sensation. Her movement was slow, almost absent, as though she were lost in thought.
"Maybe it's like what I wonder sometimes… am I meant to escape this darkness? Am I meant to be truly cared for… saved?" Her voice was barely above a whisper; it carried certain weight, though she didn't elaborate—and that was enough for him.
Maze looked back at him, their two pairs of red eyes locking together. She watched Astarion's red eyes, faintly glowing in the dim firelight, while he watched hers. Only then did he notice that the color in her eyes, those blood-rich crimson he remembered from when they first met had lightened somehow, as if following her resistance to her bloodlust throughout their journey. Now, her eyes seemed much calmer, not as brimming with intensity as when they first met, as if the blood was about to spill over her irises. Was it calmness, or is she just drained, or worn out, exhausted?
As Astarion studied her eyes, the silence between them stretched again, but this time it felt different, for both of them—the tension in the air softened. Astarion shifted, drifting his eyes away from hers, but there was a flicker of recognition in his face.
"I'm not asking for someone to save me, Maze. Nothing like that," he said quietly, a small bittersweet smile on his lips. He paused, then added, with a touch of humor to lighten the mood, "Of course, if you exclude the 'salvation' the tadpole showed us—well, at least, to me, that is. But…" He leaned in closer, nothing like a gesture of kindness or comfort, more of a deliberate movement, though with a sense of something like certain anticipation. "I do wonder what it would be like to have someone truly care."
Maze looked at him, her gaze steady now. The firelight danced across her face, casting a glittering trail over the pale scales on her cheeks and brow bones. For a brief moment, a flicker of vulnerability appeared in her eyes. For her, it was just as visible in his eyes. It was an unexpected moment of honesty between them, one neither had expected.
After a long pause, Maze spoke softly, "You're not as alone as you think."
Her words hung in the air, not quite promising resolution—almost more a quiet affirmation to herself. Yet, in a way, it felt something like a promise to Astarion, bringing with it an unfamiliar sense—relief.
As the dawn light grew brighter, the two of them sat quietly, the crackling fire filling the silence around them. Though there was still some distance between them, it had lessened. When the morning came and the time arrived to move forward, the path ahead would remain obscure for all. Yet, amidst that uncertainty, something lingered in the air—a quiet promise: to be two wanders for each other, lost but together, side by side.