Dark Star Falling (7 of ?)
Astarion finds Darling in front of the fireplace in the central pit of the hotel suite, in a nest made of all the couch cushions and several purloined down comforters piled together.
“This is new. Should I be concerned?” he asks. They look up at him and then quickly look away trying to hide their runny mascara. “Ah, I see. Do you… want to talk about it?”
He pulls a cushion out and sits on it and Darling flop over to put their head in his lap.
“You’ll bake fun of be,” they mumble wetly. “You called be twee.”
“Well, I can’t argue with that,” he says, stifling a laugh. “But tell me anyway. Maybe I can cheer you up. I owe you for, well, you know.”
“Baybe just cuddles,” they propose. They aren’t up for fighting him on the who-owes-who, or that nobody’s keeping score anymore anyway. Tho as an attempt at distracting them from their misery it is appreciated.
Astarion disappears for a minute and then drops a handkerchief on their head. “All right, slide over. You’re taking up all the big cushions. Would you like me to get Halsin over here?” he asks, settling in with an arm draped over them. They don’t answer immediately, sniffling into the hanky.
“What, are you gonna just yell for him? He’s sleeping. Let him sleep,” they say incredulously.
“He’s been sedated in the temple of Bhaal for three whole days. Vacation over. If you ask me he ought to start pulling his considerable weight,” Astarion says, eliciting a chuckle from Darling.
“You’re mean,” they say.
“You love it. Tell me what’s bothering you, my sweet.”
“I dunno who I am.”
“All right, but that’s hardly new for you. Do you mean because the Urge is gone? Or all that nonsense about being a hero that Withers dropped on you?”
“Both?”
“This won’t be the first time you’ve had to reinvent yourself, and I’ll be there to make sure you don’t turn into some obnoxious do-gooder like the Blade of Avernus over there. I’m more than up to the challenge of being your new dark urge,” he laughs his somewhat unhinged chuckle, and this seems to satisfy Darling on the subject.
“I’m afraid to fall asleep,” they say, finally.
“Ah, yes. That’s perfectly understandable,” he begins, but there isn’t really more to say than that.
“What if Enver doesn’t like me anymore?”
“Then we’ll kill him, or better yet, we’ll release Karlach into the room with him and watch from the loft. We can bring wine and a cheese board,” he says, but only hears snuffling in response. “You shouldn’t worry about him, darling. That man has it bad for you.”
“Probably not bad enough to denounce his god, tho.”
“Darling, the collective tonnage of experience with denouncing gods that is present in this building could kill a herd of dragons. You just did it a scant few hours ago. What brought that about?”
“I think it’s a wing of dragons,” they say.
“Pedantry, was it? A bold strategy. It’s no wonder you died.”
“Ugh,” they groan and stuff their face in a pillow. “I thought about when He tried to make me kill you and I was so mad I just kept saying no to Him until He killed me.”
“I couldn’t make out any of that so I’m going to assume it was about me.”
“It was about you!” they grumble, rotating to face him. Their makeup is completely in ruins, and not in a cute way like Shadowheart’s been wearing hers.
“Oh good,” he says, pulling another handkerchief out from under him and wiping at Darling’s face until they bury it in his tunic. “Looks like you’ve got laundry duty tomorrow.”
“We’re gonna blow up the steel watch tomorrow,” they say.
“Really? And that’s not what you think will put Gortash off your dance card?”
“It’s for his own good. He’ll thank me later.”
“Ah, yes, the Darling special.”
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