I was sick; diseased even. Riddled with illness that ate away at every rational fibre of my being. It felt like my body was slowly giving out and my brain was melting alongside it; unable to move, unable to even think of commanding myself to move. Surely I was dying.
He had somehow slid past my walls of defence, with a performance so perfectly put together I struggled to see the difference between the mask and his real personality anymore. The sly smile coyly hiding his fangs, his crimson eyes that narrowed into a scowl more often than not, gods even his silver curls beckoned me towards him.
My brain was near bursting; full of stolen glances of him at any chance I could. And my stupid brain played them on repeat. Alongside clips of his voice echoing in my skull. It felt like I was being consumed, eaten alive and my brain was melting into some thick sludge that would slip out of my ears at any second.
The clearing in which we had camped down for the night was silent save for the noises of nature; an errant cricket, idle rustling of leaves, the hypnotic hooting of an owl nearby. I sat perched on a log that someone had dragged by the fire for night duty and felt myself slowly unravel.
I shuddered to myself as I shook my head, trying my best to clear the never ending rampage of thoughts. I couldn't keep going like this. It had only been a ten day since this forced adventure had began and my will was being eroded into dust.
But as I stared into the fire that was beginning to wind down and die, my already sick and fragile mind was assaulted once again by a relentless barrage of him. In battle with his twin daggers drawn, relaxing by his tent in camp with wine I know he had stolen from my own, his gleeful and sarcastic banter with other companions in the party, his vicious tongue always ready with unexpectedly accurate barbs. I couldn't escape him. When had he taken over my thoughts so thoroughly?
I thought only true vampires could use charm and he was only a high elf, not to mention I'm almost positive he was only a regular run of the mill rogue. He couldn't be intentionally doing this to me…could he? No, I must be sick, I thought, nodding to myself as I tried to regain control of my mind only to fail miserably once again.
I must have zoned out for a good couple of hours, my thoughts stewing as my gaze stayed transfixed on the fire because when I heard the soft footfall inching towards me, my head snapped up to see faintly glowing embers.
"I thought the point of night watch was to actually keep watch out for danger, darling." An amused voice called from across the fire as two long legs clad in tight black leather pants and a pair of somewhat muddied black leather boots came into my sight.
I dragged my line of sight up his legs to his chest, clad in a white shirt that was somehow both form fitting and loose at the same time to then fall on his face that wore an amused and smug smirk.
It was all I could do to keep silent as I took in his form. Lord, this man was going to be the death of me. Him and whatever this illness was that was surely rotting my brain.
"Like what you see? Although…if you stare any longer, I might just have to charge you." He spoke again, with the same teasing and amused lilt to his rich and smooth like honey voice, his red eyes flashing with something akin to mirth. I flicked my own eyes down from his to reassess the dying flame before me, deciding to add one of the many logs that were prepared earlier to the fire.
It was evident; I had some sort of illness rampaging through my body. Or maybe the mindflayer tadpole that squirmed behind my eyes was having unusual side effects? I hadn't noticed anyone else with similar issues but maybe they were just better at hiding it than I was.
"Just distracted, Astarion. I didn't realise you were out hunting still." I finally replied, though I kept my eyes off his lithe form. It felt as if I kept staring, I would lose all ability to pull my eyes from him.
He hummed a soft noise in response before coming to settle down on a log directly opposite the one I was perched on. Which would have been fine had it not put his entire body and face back in my line of sight. The sickness I had been enduring for the past week flared back to life within me; begging me to focus my gaze on his face but I somehow found the will to keep my eyes on the fire and the long legs that had relaxed themselves in the warmth of the orange glow.
My thoughts were once again plagued by him, though he sat so close to me I could now smell the perfumed oil he wore. The sweet scent of bergamot and brandy chased by the warmth of rosemary seemed to cling to my nose, almost as if his scent itself was begging me to look at him. Begging me to lift my eyes and fall into his possession.
Gods, was this a regular vampire trait? Was I truly the only one that had succumbed to his charms so pathetically? I'm not sure if he knew just how completely he reigned over my thoughts but I was beginning to feel suffocated by his scent and close proximity. It felt like he had sunk his fangs into my brain itself and carved a macabre home for himself there. And it seemed I was so fine with that, so perfectly fine to fall under his charms and will that my mind had already rolled over in a twisted display of submission.
I startled myself free from my thoughts as I realised I could feel his eyes fully gazing upon me now and cleared my throat, peeling my sight from the fire to look briefly at him. I'm not sure how long I was lost to myself but the fire it seemed had begun to roar itself back to life. Shaking my head free of the mists that clung to my mind, I finally engaged with him, feeling a little less consumed by whatever was going wrong with me.
"Find anything good?" I asked as I busied myself to add another log to the embers of the campfire. I wasn't even sure where we were anymore. All the forests and clearings were beginning to blur together and I hoped I hadn't asked anything insensitive. Was there anything to eat here? I couldn't be sure anymore. I had spent the past however many days down what I assumed to be a charm infested rabbit hole, drowning in thoughts of the elf that concerned my morals greatly.
He tilted his head to the side as he watched me carefully before he hummed again in response. "The usual fare, darling. Are you alright? You haven't seemed…like yourself lately." He stretched out his legs in a slow languid pace as he asked, briefly looking over my slackened expression and guarded stance.
I stiffened in response to his question, as I mulled it over. Could he feel what I was feeling? I was certain that we couldn't share any thoughts through the parasite unless the migraine inducing pain and wiggling had danced behind my vision. But maybe I was subconsciously sending my thoughts to him. The realisation of this was enough to send a bead of sweat down my back and I rolled my shoulders back in a nervous tic.
"Must just be coming down with something." I lied, hoping it was smooth enough to get past the discerning crimson eyes of the vampire opposite me. Gods, I hoped so. Please just let this be some sort of disease that has me feverish, maybe my brain really was being eaten by a disease alongside the tadpole.
Maybe I should get Shadowheart to take a look at me in the morning…
Astarion watched me for a few careful moments, his head still cocked to the side before making a small noise of understanding. "I forget that mortals are susceptible to illness." He murmured as he nodded in renewed recognition. It was bad enough that he had spent the last two centuries out of a normal mortal reality but he didn't think he had gotten sick much as an elf either.
"For a second there, I thought you were turning into a mindflayer and I'd have to stab you." The elf chuckled to himself before picking himself up off the log. Standing before the fire, bathed in its orange glow, he looked like some kind of pagan god, one that had me near on my knees, worshipping every inch of his perfect body. I stayed silent in the hopes I could end this encounter quicker and let out a small exhale of relief when I saw him angle his feet towards his tent.
"Well, I'm glad I don't have to get myself dirty with illithid blood so late in the evening, darling. See you in the morning." He murmured in farewell before making his way to his tent.
I looked up to watch his lithe body stride away in some kind of sensual gait and felt my blood seemingly boil under my skin. That's it, I thought, I'm going to die…
Die from a mystery illness that had consumed me alongside a fucking illithid tadpole.
"Fuck." I whispered as my gaze returned to the campfire.
