#and like incorporating the weirdest funniest library facts I could out of my little head

[slothquisitor]

Invisible String: Chapter Eleven

A Baldur’s Gate III Modern AU.

Chapter Summary: It's the date we've all been waiting for. Featuring random library facts and discussions of anthropodermic bibliopegy. Obviously.

Read from the beginning.

Read on AO3.

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“I appreciate you both coming out for this emergency,” Astarion says as Karlach and Shadowheart join him at the table of their favorite bars. It’s not a boisterous bar, it is relaxed and quiet. Filled with people gathered around small tables chatting in the dim lighting. Well, calling it one of Karlach’s favorites might be an exaggeration. He’s pretty sure she called it pretentious once, but he and Shadowheart adore it. 

“You are buying the drinks, right?” Karlach asks as she sits. “You did say that in your text.”

“I still don’t understand why we couldn’t just come to your house. I had to put real pants back on!”

Karlach looks over at Shadowheart with concern. “It’s like eight o’clock…”

“On a Wednesday!” Shadowheart insists.

“You need to get out more,” Karlach shakes her head and waves down a waiter while they all place their orders. “Besides, Astarion made us meet here because he’s got a new roommate.”

“Oh no, did something happen with the librarian?” 

“Archivist,” Astarion corrects. “And no…she’s still my roommate.”

Karlach starts laughing. “Yeah, you’re never going to believe this. Astarion is letting another vampire crash at his place.”

“Another vampire? Oh…that means. Well…that’s actually nice of you.”

“Your surprise is hurting my feelings.” Astarion glares at Karlach. “What is Petras telling you?”

Karlach shrugs. “Things. Does the big emergency involve him?”

“No, but I didn’t need his prying ears tonight. It’s…well…” He’s interrupted by the arrival of their drink order and waits for the waiter to walk away before he continues. “I’m taking someone on a date…and I’m not exactly well-versed in…courtship.”

“Oh my gods, you met someone. Are they from the Weave?” Shadowheart asks excitedly. “But why do you need our help? You meet up with people from there all the time.”

He should probably correct that assumption at some point. He shifts a bit in his seat. “No, this is…different. It’s a real date…and it’s…”

Shadowheart grins. “Oh, it’s someone you really like. How novel.”

He glares at her. “I can go ask other friends if you’re going to tease.”

“You have other friends?” Shadowheart asks doubtfully. 

Karlach breaks into their bickering, resting her forearms on the table and looking distinctly unimpressed. “Remember when I said ‘Don’t shit where you eat’?”

Shadowheart frowns. “Oh no, Astarion. It’s not your roommate.”

He suddenly feels very defensive. “And if it is?”

Shadowheart and Karlach exchange a look. “Look, I know that it seems like a great idea. Convenient, even. But it almost never works out.”

“Not only that, but it makes it very hard when breaking up also means fucking moving,” Karlach adds. 

“We are mature adults. It’ll be fine,” Astarion says and immediately amends the statement after being met with their dubious stares. “Liv is a mature adult. It’ll be fine.”

Shadowheart sighs and takes a drink. “You really like her, don’t you?”

Now it is his turn to sigh. “I do. Help me plan a date?”

Even Karlach’s glower is broken by his asking for help. “This is a terrible idea.”

“Me coming up with a terrible idea? Never.”

Shadowheart sighs. “If we help you do this, we want to meet her. And soon.”

Well, that sounds distinctly terrible, but if that’s the price he has to pay for their expertise…that and drinks…it’s probably fine. “Sure. We should just invite her to a book club. She's usually already read our picks anyway.”

Shadowheart beams. “Oh, I love that.”

Karlach grimaces. “But I hate book club. Bring her to the Elfsong instead. You never come in anymore.”

“Sure, but not on a weeknight. Please?” Shadowheart agrees looking at him expectantly. 

“You’re both insufferable…agree on something and I’ll bring her around to whatever. Now, can we get back to the important thing? Helping me?”

In the end, Shadowheart and Karlach tell him less about what to do and spend rather more time encouraging his current course of action. It is comforting to know that his initial instincts about this whole date thing weren’t too far off the mark. And so, the next evening he watches the last rays of sunlight leave the city before rushing out the door and off to Old Town. 

He’s sure that this part of the city is beautiful in the daytime. It would have to be. He can almost see the way the stone spires would look reaching up towards the blue-gray skies over the city, but in the evening it is something different. The buildings are lit up, the spires falling to darkness and shadow. There is a golden glow from the windows, and the filigreed gates to colleges are closed, but promise radiates just inside. He’s walked these streets often, staring up at the old buildings and wondering what it would be like to go inside. 

The library courtyard is mostly empty except for the occasional student leaving through the main doors. He steps inside the warm, dim foyer. It seems empty until he turns to see Liv standing at the security desk talking with the tiefling woman behind it.

Liv is always beautiful, always somehow put together even when she’s standing in their kitchen in her pajamas, but there’s something about how she holds herself in this space. She’s comfortable here, confident even. She wears an oversized blazer and a BGU library lanyard with her ID on it. She looks rather official. 

“Welcome to the library,” she says with a smile. The woman behind the security desk passes her a guest pass and Liv takes it before holding it out to him. 

He takes it and puts it on. “Good to see you.”

The woman at the desk smiles and opens the gate for them both to enter. “The second floor of the Silvershield Library is closed for the evening, but they’ll let you go up as long as you’re there before eight.”

“Thank you, Nina,” Liv says. “You ready?”

Astarion nods. “Lead the way.”

They step around the corner and into a stairwell. “This is the main library building,” Liv explains as they begin climbing. “I thought we’d start here and then make our way over to the Silvershield. The reading rooms here are a bit less grand, but the books here are older.”

He finds himself a little unsure, a little searching for words. But that’s okay because Liv isn’t. She’s in her element here. As they climb the stairs, she lowers her voice and proceeds to tell him a story about a career criminal who before he died of tuberculosis gave his deathbed confession of his crimes and instructed that the book be bound in his own skin. After he died, the book was delivered to one of his victims who kept it in the family until it was eventually donated to the archives. 

“But why did he have it bound in his own skin?” Astarion asks, equal parts delighted and disgusted. 

“Anthropodermic bibliopegy wasn't exactly a common practice at the time, but not unheard of amongst criminals and even some doctors.”

“Doctors?”

She shrugs. “They had easy access to corpses.”

“That is…delightfully macabre.”

“I thought you might enjoy it.”

“Will I get the chance to see this skin book, is it in this reading room?” he asks. 

“It’s safely tucked away deep in the archives. It’s not out of public viewing, but if you want to see it you can. The story is better than the book itself, it’s a little underwhelming honestly. It’s not like it’s all patched together with a face etched in proclaiming that this is made of human skin,” she says. 

“Are there books like that here?” 

“Oh yes. And magical tomes too. Those tend to be housed elsewhere though. A few too many accidental fires in these old buildings made everyone a bit nervous, so the more unstable tomes are stored especially in our storage facility in Beregost that we share with Candlekeep. Most of the lesser used items in the library are stored there now anyway.”

“Really, so why do you work here instead of there?” 

“Beregost is more of a repository than a true archive. The preservation work of things in use still happens here, but we simply don’t have the space in these old buildings to house everything in the collection.”

“And how big is the collection?”

“Pushing nearly twelve million printed items.”

“No wonder you archivists lose things.”

She laughs. “Kind of makes you wonder what other books might be hiding out here…lost to time.”

“But mostly the skin-bound ones.”

By this point, they’re at the doors to the upper reading room. There are warnings on the door instructing them that no bags, pens, or food are allowed inside. “There are still students working in here, so we’ll have to be quiet.”

“Alright.”

She opens one of the double doors, gesturing him inside. As he walks in, he can’t quite keep from gazing about in awe. He would have never guessed from the unassuming nature of the stairwell that this one was waiting on the other side. Filled with floor-to-ceiling dark wood bookshelves, the room feels darker than it should. The ceiling is made of wood as well, red and blue with golden designs and words in a tongue he doesn’t recognize. And there are books. Shelves and rows of books. An older half-orc man sits at a desk that blocks this main hallway from the rest of the library shelves. He has a book open and his pen moves across the page as he looks between his book and computer screen as they approach.  

“How nice to see you, Liv.” He smiles, then nods to Astarion. “First time?”

“Hi, Oscar. We’re just doing a little tour of the place.”

Oscar nods understandingly and opens the small wooden gate for them. “Enjoy.”

He feels the quiet here like it bears weight, and for a moment he wonders if he should be here at all. But then Liv glances back at him and smiles inclining her head towards an alcove of books. 

It’s a nice, quiet alcove and there are no students here. It’s nice, nicer because he gets to be close to Liv here. He enjoys seeing her like this talking about her work, this library, and books. However, he worries that this feels less romantic than anything else they could be doing. Even so, there’s a buzz of electricity between them as they stand looking at the shelves of books. At the lowest level before the shelf turns into a desk where someone could sit and study, there’s a sign beside the oldest leather-bound books, their yellowed pages peeking out. The sign says, “Do not touch the books. They are alarmed.”

“Who is terrorizing the books and do we need to have a word with them?” he asks in a whisper as he leans closer to Liv. 

“You’ve got to be the millionth person to make that same joke in this library,” she says around quiet laughter as she twists to look at him. 

“Oh, you’ve heard it before?” he asks. 

“No, but it’s pretty corny.”

He scoffs. “As if the romantic comedies you put on during movie night aren’t?”

“I’m just saying it’s not very original.”

“But you still laughed.”

She considers that eyes bright with mirth. “Yeah, I did.”

Good. He’s trying. He’s not sure exactly how this should be going, but this is nice. She’s close enough to touch, his fingers brush hers but nothing more, as if they both aren’t quite sure how to push this thing between them further. 

“Tell me more about the library.”

And she does. 

***

Liv takes Astarion through her favorite sections of the library: the upper reading room, the West building which houses the exhibitions, and through the secret tunnel linking the old library building to the Silvershield. It’s affectionately referred to as The Shield by the student body, mostly for the shape of the building, which is rather squat and wide, but the interior is where this building shines. All spiral staircases and arches amongst the bookshelves. As Nina said, the second floor of the library is closed when they arrive, but the librarian on duty gives her a nod as she unlocks the door and they make their way up the stairs. 

Their conversation has meandered nearly as much as they have through the library shelves. Astarion keeps looking at her with some strange intensity every time they pause anywhere, and she feels like there’s an electric current running between them, like her head is buzzing every time he’s close to her. 

Astarion lets out a low whistle as they enter the second floor. “Well, isn’t this something?”

“This is my favorite place,” she says. She loves her little office in the main building, but when she needs a change of scenery, this is where she comes. It’s even beautiful at night, the old building filled with shadows as the only lights burning brightly are the ones that sit upon the reading tables. 

“Saved the best for last, did you?” he asks. 

They’re alone up here, there’s no need to be quiet, which is nice as they’ve mostly been communicating in snatched whispers and smothered laughter thus far. “I’ve always found libraries calming.”

“Oh?”

She’s not sure if this topic is really first-date material, but she’s also not sure whether it matters. Everything about this has just felt like two friends wandering a library with the possibility of something more hanging out on the horizon…but he hasn’t made any move toward it. She sighs. “Growing up, my home wasn’t a very peaceful place. Lots of expectations…all the time. But our local library wasn’t too far to ride on my bike, so during those long summer days when I was missing school…I would go to the library.”

“Didn’t you have friends?” Astarion asks teasingly. 

“Yes, I met them at the library.”

He laughs. “I’m not surprised that you loved a place so much you made it your career.”

She’s never thought of it that way, but she supposes it’s true. “I guess I did.”

“Everything you tell me about your family makes them sound exceedingly awful, but this might be the worst: that you missed school so went to the library.”

“Summers were hard. Everyone was at home all day every day…including my mother. She was always so quick to correct. And my older siblings wanted little to do with me, so I just…disappeared.”

“You said you haven’t met your half-brother?”

“That’s right.”

“Have you thought about it?”

The truth is that she’s thought about it a lot. She’s even stalked his socials. He lives in a little suburb of Cormyr with his partner and five children. He seems…exceptionally normal. He looks like her brothers. It would be so easy to send him a message. “All the time.”

“Does he want to meet?”

She nods. “According to Brelia, yes.”

“But you don’t?”

She pauses walking and leans against one of the reading tables. “I don’t know what I want. Sometimes I want to meet him, and sometimes, I don’t. It’s…complicated.”

“Why?”

“I can barely navigate the family I have now…and…I don’t know if it was guaranteed to be good…maybe I’d want it.”

He studies her for a moment. “You’re afraid? I didn’t think you were afraid of anything.”

She crosses her arms, can’t help the rueful laugh that escapes her. “I am afraid of so much. But that…that maybe I’d meet him and he wouldn’t love me…I’m most afraid of that…of what it would mean about me.”

“That he has terrible taste in people?” he asks, stepping closer.  

“That it’s me and not my family that’s the problem,” she breathes. She worries that she is difficult to love, that her family are not the unreasonable ones, but that it’s her and it has always been her. And if she were to meet him and he doesn’t love her? If she had to twist and bend and make herself smaller to be loved by him too….well, she thinks that might be what breaks her. At least if she never meets him, she never has to worry about disappointing him and vice versa. 

“You are incapable of being the problem,” Astarion says, the words as soft and firm as they were the night she called him from Neverwinter.

She wants to believe him, or at least enough of the hyperbole he offers to feel confident that the love she does receive is not somehow a fluke. “You sound very sure of that.”

He has drifted closer in the last handful of moments here, and though she still leans against the table, he is like watching the tide coming in. His crimson gaze is soft as it sometimes is, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. “I am.”

Astarion is close enough to touch now, though she’s not sure if she should reach out. They haven’t touched since that night they kissed, have been very particular about not . But they’re here, and it’s a date, and she’s still not quite sure what it is he wants. The silence stretches between them, full of anticipation. 

“What are you thinking about?” she asks. It’s a stupid question, and she feels like she’s suddenly a teenager again, giddy with a first crush. 

“I'm thinking about kissing you again, and wondering how much trouble you’ll get into since you’re on the job…and how much I care.”

“Maybe you should find out,” she says lightly, unable to contain a smile.  

He moves slowly, deliberately, a hand skating along her jaw before cradling her head. And then his lips are on hers. This is so different from that first kiss, so devoid of all the frantic scrambling, as though they both wanted to get as far as they could before one of them came to their senses. Their first kiss was doomed from the start, and they’d both known it. But this is different. 

This kiss is soft, gentle, as if they are both a little afraid of how fragile the other might be. Her hands find his waist, and his tangle in her hair. Her heart feels like it is racing so quickly, there’s a danger it might spill right out of her chest.  

The kiss is over far too soon.

Their eyes lock as he pulls away, and she cannot help but smile. She reaches forward, catching his hand before he can move too far from her. He settles beside her, leaning against the table with his shoulder pressed against hers. 

“Now, I’m perfectly fine staying here all night, but I did get us a dinner reservation,” he says. 

She chuckles at that. “You don’t even eat.”

He shrugs. “Seems like a perfect excuse for you to order two things you can’t decide between from the menu and have as much of either as you like.”

It’s…surprisingly sweet of him. “While I appreciate that, we don’t have to. Really.”

He sighs. “I just…I want this to feel normal.”

He says normal, but she thinks she knows what he really means. Like he’s normal. And how could she deny him that? “We’ll make our own normal. Let’s go get dinner.”

***

The rest of their evening is rather uneventful. They take the riverwalk after dinner, pointing out their favorite buildings in the sparkle of lights that is their city. Their conversation wanders, switching from teasing to serious and back again as they meander through topics and subjects. There are times that Astarions forgets that this is a date, much less their first. It feels like being with Liv always does: comfortable. 

The only reminder that this is different is the insistent pressure of her hand in his. She had taken his hand first, but he is the one who can’t seem to let hers go. Can’t seem to stop reaching for her, for that careful, perfect contact. She doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Petras is going to be insufferable about this when we get back,” he muses as they walk. They’re just a few blocks from home now. 

“To you maybe,” Liv replies. “Do you think we ought to tell him though?”

“Are you advocating for dishonesty?” Astarion asks, surprised and intrigued. 

Liv considers that for a moment and sighs. “Not necessarily. I just…how would you feel if the two people you were living with started dating? He’s getting his new place in a few days and I don’t want it to feel as though we’re trying to get rid of him.”

“But we are. Finally,” Astarion murmurs. 

Liv rolls her eyes. “You say that, but you’ve been taking care of him since he moved in. Whatever are you going to do with your days with him gone?”

“Finally have some peace and quiet. So, what are you saying? We tell him after he moves out?” 

“If he asks, we don’t lie, we simply don’t say anything about it for now?” 

He grins. “You are advocating for dishonesty. The things I learn new things about you every day. By the way, Shadowheart and Karlach are chomping at the bit to meet you.”

“Really?” she asks. 

“Yes, so if we don’t make plans with them soon they’ll take matters into their own hands and show up unannounced or something equally ridiculous.”

“I’m flattered they want to meet.” Liv’s voice is tight. He knows that there’s a hint of nervousness there. 

He squeezes her hand reassuringly. “Karlach loves everyone, so she’ll be easy. Shadowheart is harder to please, but she already thinks you’re great because of your book recommendations.”

“But I haven’t given her any book recommendations.”

“But you’ve given them to me, and I’ve passed them along to her. Credit where it is due, darling,” he says. 

“I appreciate you trying to raise my stock amongst your friends in advance,” she replies. 

“Frankly, it’s hard to find someone whose company is even better than mine, but they’ll inevitably come to that conclusion.”

“Thank you,” she says, words quiet. 

“For what?”

“For always being so confident in me. It’s….it’s not something I’ve had a lot of and it’s…really nice.”

Liv’s wonderfulness is a foregone conclusion to him. Like the sky being blue or that one shouldn’t mix florals and plaids. It’s a fact of the universe. Immutable. But he considers her upbringing, her isolation, and the expectations she’s always had heaped upon her. He’s glad at least that he has something to offer her, something she hasn’t often had. 

“I’m not very practiced at this,” he says, squeezing her hand. “I don’t know what I’m doing, but it’s nice to hear I’m at least doing something right.”

“You’re doing great,” Liv says as they arrive at their building. “But promise me something?”

“What?”

“That you’ll let go of whatever expectations you have for what’s normal or what we should be doing. This is ours. We decide what this is…no one else.”

He stares at her for a moment, at the lifeline she’s handing him. “And you’re alright with that?”

“More than. I care about you . About being with you . Whatever that looks like.”

They’re alone in the elevator, and he can’t stop himself from kissing her again. It’s easier than figuring out what to say than trying to tell her what this means to him. He thinks she knows anyway. 

As they enter the apartment, depositing their coats on the hooks near the door. Petras pauses the baking show he’s watching, jumping to his feet and looking between them both a little bit lost. 

“Where were you two?” 

He and Liv exchange a look, both trying to figure out what to say. “The library and then the riverwalk,” he replies. 

Petras looks hurt. “Were you…hanging out without me?”

Liv’s eyes go wide with understanding and she looks at him like Petras is some kicked puppy dog. He sighs and gives her a nod. 

“No, Petras. We were…on a date.”

The unhappiness in Petras’s eyes immediately fades, and Astarion wonders just how genuine it might have been. “Fucking finally.”

“Okay…”

“Did it go well? Do I need to step out for a bit? If it went poorly that’s super awkward because there’s no escaping each other and how do you know if the date is over if you’re already going home together?”

Liv is blushing furiously, and Astarion rubs at his temples. “I think the date’s over now.”

Petras looks positively smug about whatever has transpired here. “Wanna watch the show with me?”

Liv is already halfway to the couch. “Yeah, is this the pastry episode?”

The three of them settle into their usual, easy routine, but Astarion can’t help glancing at Liv in some attempt to catch her eye. Each time he does, he’s met with the brilliance of her smile. They certainly do make their own normal.