#with astarion nonchalantly reading in the distance

[ddarker-dreams]

i stopped my situationship with lae'zel to fully be with astarion and now she's sharpening her weapons near him. uh oh

[roguegrove]

halstarion wip

okay so i have been writing this for a little while, my first ever actual fanfic. annnnnd i have the beginning "done" and i was wondering if y'all would be so kind as to give it a little read and feedback, let me know if i am heading anywhere interesting?

ETA: i left half the fic out for like three minutes lololol sorry

astarion/halsin, pg at this juncture, definitely won't be at one point. very first draft, inspired by hozier's "first time"

summary: Canon-led look at a relationship between Astarion and Halsin, exploring further, following the arcs in the Hozier song, “First Time.”

Astarion learns about life, death, love, and freedom in his relationship with Halsin.

“Little star,” slipped from scarred lips that first time, sounding easy as a summer’s breeze. 

The words instead dunked Astarion into a frigid river, startling awake parts of him long since laid to rest. Terrifying, encompassing, heart stopping. It settled into a little shiver and something else. Oddly…refreshing? It made his skin feel like it fit funnily, worming its way underneath every dead layer and making a home within him, not unlike the tadpole, changing him irrevocably.

He, of course, was aware of the different possible meanings of his name. An old mark once waxed poetic about it to him, assuming the vampire had chosen it himself as most elves his age did. Being as it was one of the few remnants from his past, Astarion was a bit protective of his name. It was one of the only vulnerable spots he knew himself to still have. Someone, somewhere gave him that name. Someone looked at the baby he once was and deemed him sweet enough for his name and its meaning. 

Maybe at one point he was someone’s little star, something bright and twinkling in the darkness. He was out of the habit of imagining who gave him the title, though this wasn’t an unexplored dream. There was a time when he imagined the soft arms, soft eyes, soft words of his nomenclator whispering to him in a language he barely remembered, cradling him in the darkest depths of Cazador’s cruelty. He was once held with the kind of reverence reserved for a long hoped-for child, and that thought had sustained him for nearly half a century at one point, pulling his mind from the experience of his body and taking him into that parental embrace. 

Spoken so boldly, so nonchalantly in the open air of the camp left him emotionally naked where he stood. Astarion imagined the last time he heard it might’ve also been the last time he stood in the sun as he did now. Fitting, he supposed, as his current life experience felt as foreign and unreal as the memories he made up in his dissociations. It didn’t escape him that the gentle way the druid Halsin spoke his name was as close to the way it was always supposed to sound as anything he could imagine. 

Halsin’s voice sounded like the smell of campfire as it went out, like the ground shaking from thunder far away, like the way rough bark feels on a smooth palm. Practically everything he said sounded beautiful, and Astarion’s name was no different. Halsin’s lips didn’t just form the words, but cradled them, placing them lovingly into the world as if they were worthy of care. 

The sound of his name had never sounded so sweet, not after centuries of morphing into a curse. More than spoken with care, his name was treated as a command, as a tug on a leash or a noose. Cazador’s voice poisoned Astarion’s name with his venom, whether delivered within a puncture or a masked sweetness. He began regarding it as a scourge, the sound of it acting as a warning for what awful things followed. A necessary distance from his name formed, leaving it behind with his suffering body most days. At camp, he tentatively allowed ‘Astarion’ to settle back into him as his companions spoke it without malice, without inflicting pain. It was with more indifference, informality than anything else, but maybe that was the casual way most people regarded their own name when they had anything else besides it. 

Halsin turned his curse of a name back into a prayer, but his kindness was such a practiced part of him that Astarion wondered if it was even intentional. Maybe it was a druid thing or just a Halsin thing, but the natural respect and care he gave to all living creatures was difficult for the younger elf to understand. He could understand if it was a rouse, hiding an ulterior motive, sure, but he wasn’t sure Halsin even had the capacity to lie let alone manipulate him. 

A hand reached for him as the words did, Halsin’s big paw tentative as it came toward Astarion like he was some injured small creature or something. It was clear that the older man was trying to find the best way to get him to feel comfortable, and the thought stirred something in his belly. Annoyance, trepidation, butterflies? The hand came with a request, not just to offer Astarion the sweet version of his name.

"Little star,” he’d called, as if his request was simple, as if it didn’t shake Astarion to his core.

  Blinking himself out of the momentary reverie, Astarion turned on his heel to take in the scene. Halsin was seated at one corner of his little camp, on the bare ground, large legs folded beneath him. It was only then that Astarion noticed the curls of wood scattered around him, the knife in his hand, the mangled bit of twig resting on his thigh. Was he whittling? How...quaint. Feigning casual, Astarion cocked a hip and an eyebrow, drawling. 

“What was that, dear druid?” 

“I was wondering if you would do a lazy bear a favor and hand me that bit of basswood just out of reach,” Halsin answered, a chuckle below the surface of the sound. “If it’s not too much trouble, of course.”

There was a glint to his eye that made Astarion feel like he’d been caught doing something more nefarious than simply walking past. The request was innocent, if not a possible ploy to just get his attention, and yet the vampire felt like he must tread carefully. Those hazel eyes saw more than most, Astarion knew. Beyond the wizened age of the former First Druid, Halsin had the unique ability to see what many others overlooked, and Astarion’s carefully crafted masks did nothing to deter him. He often wondered if in that sweet nature hid a schemer who kept tabs as weapons; after all, that would be what he’d do, what he did do. 

With careful, graceful movements that did little to hide the truth of the disarmament he just experienced, Astarion plucked the wood from the ground and offered it to Halsin with a flick of his wrist. 

“Is this what you’re after?” 

“Ah, yes,” Halsin beamed when he got the frightened animal to eat from his palm. “Many thanks, my friend.” 

Friend? Astarion barely grasped the concept let alone considered this lumbering teddybear of a man one of his. He could scarcely bring himself to trust Halsin, so warm affection was definitely not on the table yet. 

Still, being in Halsin’s good graces could be nothing more than an asset. 

On went the charm, an enticing smile tugging at Astarion’s lips as he peered down his nose curiously at the older man’s project. 

“And what, pray tell, are you doing? Not carving stakes, I hope?” 

At that, the laugh that burst from Halsin both startled Astarion and warmed something in his bones, his smile slipping into something less practiced without his knowledge or permission.

“Gods, no,” the bear replied, holding up the wood to show how easily it would fit in his palm. “Not unless we’re going to chase down your kin in bat form.” It was Astarion’s turn to laugh, the image of the large Halsin chasing after his master as a tiny vampire bat with his hand-carved toothpick delighting him. Gesturing to the space beside him with his carving knife, Halsin invited, “come, join me if you are not busy. I’d be happy to keep your company a while longer.” 

Astarion couldn’t say why he sat down beside him, or even what they wound up talking about until Halsin left to join the rest of the omnivores in camp for supper. The sun had shifted across the sky without his noticing for the first time since he’d been able to see it again, the passage of time seeming to rush by. This, too, was a new experience. For nearly two centuries, Astarion had felt time trickle past him like molasses. His existence was pain, isolation, and forced servitude, and anything beyond that had been a rouse. Time passing quickly would have been a blessing any moment of his life except for today. Today, when he allowed himself for a moment to believe in the sweetness of another, the world moved faster around him than it ever had before. Typical. 

[caniasfire]

kiss to the fuckin forehead w / ADVANTAGE.

unprompted (?) @estarion

he's trying to focus on his book, which is proving a little bit of a challenge after hearing astarion's voice inside his head. he wears his usual stoic façade, but he is quite unsettled by the threat . . . couldn't he have just threatened him to stab him to death or something? behead him? poison him? by the hells, why like that? astarion's words loop around his mind, he stares at the words in his book and it takes every fiber of him to actually read them and immerse himself back in the story of his book instead of thinking about the vampire. or putting pictures to words. scenarios. he remembers how he used to feel back in mephistar, and this is not too far from that.

then astarion approaches him so nonchalantly. he gets closer, and closer, until he's at distance amay hadn't allowed him to be in for a while now, but amay is frozen. as the other presses his lips to his forehead, all he does is stare, holding his book between them like his life depended on it.

"don't hurt me."

[selunesdreams]

Chapter 3: Crawling Towards the Sun

Chapter from ongoing fic Forms of Imprisonment. Full story on AO3.

Pairing: Spawn Astarion (post-tadpole) x OFC

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: 18+. Violence, mention of past trauma/abuse, preexisting relationship/storyline.

----------------------------------

When Celeste leaves the following evening, the vampire is already waiting for her in the shadows, leaning against the wall of her home. The dim light of the moon outlines his body and far off lights of the city, features barely discernible in the dark. His eyes glint as she walks outside.  

“Hello, darling.” 

“You know where I live?” She groans.

With a seductive look, he casually shrugs his shoulders. “It’s not safe for beautiful women to be stumbling through the Dock Ward alone, dear.” As he takes a step away from the wall, his arms relax and fall to his sides. “I watched from a distance last night to ensure you made it home safely. After all, I prefer to be the only creature stalking you in the dark.” He smirks, taking his time to walk in a half circle around her, his eyes roving her body, before adding, “You look quite lovely this evening.”

“Thank you, but I don’t need a chaperone.”

“My dear, you are the most sullen devotee of Selûne I’ve ever encountered.” Astarion gives her a mocking pout. “Won’t you humor me?” 

“I need to get some work done tonight.” 

“Such a hard worker.” He sucks his teeth. “As it happens, I have some business at the library myself, and I could really use the assistance of a rather gloomy friend of mine…” 

“What business could you possibly have there? You’ve sulked there all week, pulling out necromancy texts and making a mess of the histories sections…you’re all over the place. What are you up to? Because if you ask me, it seems like you’re searching for some very dark magic.”

Astarion lets out a sharp laugh.

“You’ve been reading over my shoulder? Quite rude…” When he extends his arm towards her, she dismisses the gesture and starts towards the library on her own. He nonchalantly shrugs, effortlessly falling into step beside her. 

“I’ve been…searching for something I caught wind of back in Baldur’s Gate. Something to ease a symptom of my…condition.” he says reluctantly. She comes to a halt and locks eyes with him.

“You’re looking for a cure for vampirism?”

“What? Hells, no!” Astarion gestures dramatically. “I’m not giving up immortality just to die from the first tavern brawl I get into. I just want immunity from the sun.” 

“Astarion, there’s nothing in existence that could do that for you. It would be easier to cure you than for you to stand in the sun without consequence. That would upset the balance of nature itself. If you were immune to the sun, you’d be far more powerful than most beings.” 

“That’s the point, dear. Well, that, and…” his voice trails off for a moment. “Look, I just want to stand in the damn sun! Is that so much to ask? Can’t you send up a prayer to your moonmaiden and see if she can do something?” he asks irritably. Celestia scoffs. 

“Ask Selûne, the goddess of the moon, to grant a vampire immunity to the sun?” she raises an eyebrow. “Ask her to create an advantage for a being she created my kind to kill? You think she’s going to just hand over that kind of power to you?” A flicker of darkness passes over Astarion’s eyes, and Celeste realizes she may have said something terrible.

“Well, pardon me. With all your talk of redemption last night, I hadn’t realized you thought of me as such a monster. You’ll have to forgive me if I hold little stock in the balance of nature,” he sneers. 

“I didn’t mean it like that…”

“Of course, darling, I understand.” He doesn’t hide his sarcasm. “What’s it even to you if I became too powerful? Afraid I’ll turn on you?” Astarion takes a step closer to her, his eyes gleaming malevolently, attempting to unsettle her. 

“I hadn’t considered that. I was more preoccupied with the idea that anything that could grant you that kind of power would likely come with a cost…or conditions.” 

She stiffens but doesn’t move as he caresses her cheek with his thumb, leaning forward and murmuring into her ear. “I assure you, darling, I will not harm you.” Celeste feels him smile as his lips brush against her ear. “I’m more likely to kiss you again,” he taunts. 

Stepping back sharply, she locks eyes with him and shoots him a withering glare. He’s provoking her, but she refuses to let it affect her.  

“Look…I don’t know what kind of magic or artifact you heard of that can grant you immunity to the sun, but it doesn’t exist. You’d be absolutely lethal.”

“When that damned tadpole was in my brain, my existence under the sun didn’t have any negative consequences for anyone. I didn’t seek to conquer or destroy the city. I fucking helped save it!” His voice becomes more heated. 

“The very nature of that tadpole was chaos. The Absolute nearly destroyed an entire city. You’re telling me you didn’t have an edge on nearly everyone? That you didn’t kill a single innocent soul?”

He narrows his eyes at her. “Oh, come off it. No one is entirely innocent.” 

“So you can’t think of anyone you killed who didn’t deserve it?” she presses. Astarion lets out a frustrated sigh.

“Well, there was this Gur I stabbed in the eye…” He glances to the side, “but he was hunting me! He sought to return me to Cazador. It was self defense!”

“But you didn’t even consider an alternative?”

“What alternative? Was I supposed to buy him a drink and find common ground with a monster hunter? No dear, I’m not in the business of taking a chance on peaceful resolution when violence is the easier answer.” She raises an eyebrow, as if to suggest he’s proved her point. He gives her a scornful look. 

“So, this is my reward? A lifetime of darkness and isolation after centuries of torture and imprisonment?” he becomes more flustered. “What balance is there to upset? I just want to watch the sunrise without burning alive. I have not known warmth in…” his voice falters and he shifts his gaze away from her. As her chest tightens, her demeanor softens.

“You could get way in over your head…” she warns.

He scowls. “I’ll worry about that when I have to. Right now, I just need to find out if it even exists. Will you help me? Or am I too monstrous for your taste?”

“I’ll help you.” She says in a resigned voice. “And I never said you were a…monster. We’re not so different. Besides, I still forget about the…fangs.”

He’s so surprised by her offer, he ignores her musings. He holds her gaze in surprise before his eyelids lower. 

“I…thank you.” He mumbles. He reaches out for her hand and pulls it towards him, clasping his other hand on top of it.

“I…need to go to work.” She glances off toward the library. He releases her hands and takes a step back. 

“Of course.” His demeanor was much softer and no longer calculating. “I’ll see you later?” He asks. She nods and gives a weak smile. 

“Sure, later.”  

As she walks away, she feels his eyes following her, but resists the temptation to turn back around. When she leaves, Astarion wanders off to the Blushing Nymph to drink alone and burn off his moodiness. 

When Celeste reaches the library, she finds Anders, an older, tall, balding human man with an imposing presence in the library’s back room. He looks cross with her. 

“Celestria.” He says in an authoritative voice.

She shrinks a bit. “Anders…hi.”

“Didn’t see you yesterday.” His tone is disapproving as he stands from his desk, towering over her as he approaches. 

“I know I…had a personal thing come up.”

“A personal thing?” Anders repeats, his expression unchanging as he looks her over. He is not a friendly man, and he’s never been much for small talk. He keeps his expression flat while he waits for her to elaborate.

She clears her throat. “Um, you know-”

He cuts her off, holding up his hand. “I’m not interested. Just finish your work.” He says, “I’m heading home for the evening.”

“Certainly. Have a good evening.” She can feel his eyes trailing over her body in a way that makes her stomach turn. Once he exits the library, the tension eases from her and she sighs in relief. 

The library becomes a vacant and peaceful place as the hours pass. With nothing else to occupy her attention, Celeste becomes focused on her work. As midnight approaches, a cautious knock against the wooden doorway catches her attention. Astarion leans against the frame. 

“I was hoping you would still be here. May I come in?” he asks, grinning at her. 

“You already have a pass. I assume that’s enough of an invitation for a vampire.” She says, scrawling a quick note before looking up at him.

“Fantastic. So what are you working on? Anything exciting?” His voice carries a mischievous tone, his sour mood from earlier appearing to have dissipated. 

“Religious journals.” She says, unamused. “Not my favorite.” 

He appears beside her and leans over the table she’s sitting at. “I’m surprised a Selûnite finds religious texts so daunting.”

“Not all of them, but the personal journals of the devout rarely offer much excitement.”

“They lack imagination.” He watches her work for a moment before flicking her book shut. She casts him an annoyed glance and reaches for the next book in the stack. As she touches it, she flinches as she feels a sharp sting. She jumps to her feet with a hiss, stumbling into him. 

“Ow!”

He reaches out and steadies her as she’s pressed against him. 

“Careful darling.” He warns in a sultry voice, his hands drifting down her shoulders. “It appears your book doesn’t want to be touched. Perhaps you have a few things in common…” 

She doesn’t respond to his teasing, only stares at the book, bewildered. “I…it burned me.”

“Let me see,” Astarion turns her around and pulls her hand towards him. His thumb traces her palm carefully, searching for any evidence of injury, but he can’t see anything out of the ordinary.

“I felt it.” She insists when his expression turns doubtful. 

Astarion reaches for the book, anticipating a similar reaction from it, but no pain ever comes. He picks it up, taking it into his hands and inspecting it as he flips it over in his hands. “It feels... normal.” He shrugs, glancing up at her, his lips curling upward with amusement. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I swear.” She says, “I’m not mistaken.”  

He nods. “I believe you. Does it still hurt, now that you’ve removed your hand?”

“No, it’s…gone.” She says, confused. 

He presses the book against the bare flesh of her forearm and she yelps. A mischievous grin spreads on his face.

“Apologies. Testing a hypothesis,” he says, showing her the spine of the book. 

Sharran Devotions. 

Her eyes widen. “Shar… ” she says. “Do you think…?” Astarion cocks his head to the side as he opens the book, flipping through a few pages. 

“Shar punishing a chosen of Selûne. How poetic,” he says, pensive. “Are you an enemy of Shar, or does she just not care for you?” He folds the book closed with both hands, eliciting a sharp snap.

“I am, technically. My people died on Shar’s orders. The night the Sharrans ambushed us…they didn’t just kill us, they…brutalized everyone.” 

“Killed us? You seem very much alive to me,” he observes.

“I watched them kill my parents in front of me.” her eyes are distant as she speaks. “They tried to protect me, to hide me. One of the Sharran men…” her voice trails off, despite carrying no shame. She feels uncomfortable naming it. 

The vampire’s expression darkens, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Go on, my dear. Speak it, say it all.”

She draws a slow breath, looking up at the ceiling, trying to gather her words.

“I had to stare at the lifeless bodies of everyone I loved the entire time. Afterwards…he slit my throat. And just left me there for what felt like hours, bleeding out and choking on my own blood. Eventually, everything just…went white.”

Astarion’s own dark history typically leaves him apathetic to the misfortune of others, but now and then, someone’s suffering gets to him. As she describes the horrors she endured, his stomach tightens in revulsion and…perhaps empathy. 

“The Sharrans executed every single Moonborn that night. Everyone I ever knew,” she continues, “and yet, Selûne pitied me for being caught in the crosshairs of she and her sister’s war. A war she created the Moonborn to fight to begin with.” Celeste almost looks through him as she speaks.

Astarion hangs on every word. “So she saved you? Allowed you to cheat death?”

“It was like she injected the entire power of the Moonborn into me. As if every dead Moonborn’s magic and long lifespan became my own. I’m…not invincible, but I won’t die easily or of natural causes - much like you. And nature’s balance dooms me to only thrive under Selûne’s light, under the moon. I won’t burst into flames in the sun like you, but…it makes me sick. Vulnerable. So I am doomed to the shadows forever, or at least several lifetimes. A blessing and a curse, but Selûne wasn’t about to give up the last of her Moonborn. She would not lose another battle to Shar.”

“So all that talk earlier about nature’s balance and me walking in the sun…” Astarion’s voice trails off. “How fitting that I would come to you if all people, seeking something you yourself can hardly enjoy.” 

She nods. “That book…burning me. I worry Shar is lashing out.”

Astarion’s mouth forms a line. “She is a cruel goddess,” the vampire says. “And she would want no one escaping her grasp. She has always been the more malevolent of the two, a goddess of darkness and loss. Your survival likely offends her. But why now?”

“I don’t know.” Celeste shifts uncomfortably, as if there’s something she’s not telling him, but he doesn’t press her further. He unravels everyone’s secrets in time. 

“Are you familiar with the House of Grief?” Astarion asks her slowly. 

“In Baldur’s Gate? The Shar worshippers’ not-so-secret little cloister?” she remarks, ‘Yes, I’ve heard of it.” 

Astarion straightens himself a bit, looking away from her, as he recalls the chaos he and his companions wrought on the place months ago - the bodies scattered about, the stench of carrion - all to save Shadowheart, only for Shar to kill her parents right in front of her. 

“It’s…no longer what it once was, I assure you.” His jaw clenches. Celeste gives him a questioning look, and he holds her gaze, deliberating something, before he speaks again. 

“There’s someone I think you should meet.”

[faerunsbest]

Liar

[Moments I've played so far and how I wished they went or how they just konda buzzed around in my head]

He'd not at all expected the way the way the smile fell, her jaw tight and her eyes stony cold. It had happened in an instant, it was supposed to be playful. They were having fun...

"Darling?"

Her hands pulled off his chest and dropped to her sides,her small brows set sharply In displeasure.

"I think you'd be lying."

Before he could respond, she spun on her heel and walked off.

---

Days later, the lot of them walked along the deep dirt roads chatting amicably as almost always. Astarion blinked when he realized wyll had been talking to him. Wyll raised an eyebrow at him.

"You alright?"

----

She looked at him a bit differently as she handed him a cluster of health potions for himself. A small bubble of upset pooled in his chest as he found he seemed to have backtracked with her. He brushed it off, deciding it was probably for the best.

____

Days came and went and suddenly he found himself with her hand against his cheek. She looked him up and down, pursing her lips at him. Frowning as she put her hands on her wide hips.

" Why didn't you just say you're hungry?"

"... what?"

"Well go on then."

She tilted her head and pushed a long braid out of the way for him.

"I thought you where upset with me."

"We can talk about whatever you want after you eat, you look like a wisp!"

He frowned at the comment, but all the same, she was right. He was starving. Gently he placed one hand on her shoulder and the other around her back as his teeth sunk into soft skin.

_____

Sitting at camp, Astarion whipped around to find wyll looking Incredulous as he pawed around for his dagger.

"Your neck, you're a vampire!?"

Astarion blinked at him and sighed heavily. He looked around and found the others quickly coming over to have a proper look at him.

" is it so?"

Laezel inquired as she crossed her arms over her chest at him, Gale glancing around curiously.

"Indeed I am, no need to worry-"

He found himself beginning to panic, standing slowly as the rest of them stepped towards him, armed.

" He's not harmed anyone here-so he stays."

Astarion turned to find her walking over from just outside camp, brow set deep. She stopped to place herself directly in front of him.

" Lae zel! You actively tried to kill me, TWICE!"

Laezel blinked with only mild interest, Eldora turned to point to wyll.

"You made a deal with a devil. You're actively dangerous to my inventory, and you burned my bedroll!"

As she spoke her voice rose with increasing agitation while she wagged her finger across the small crowd.

"He is actively the least trouble of all of you- Dont!"

She whipped to stop Lae zel before she could start a complaint.

" I am keeping him cared for so I don't want to hear ANY of it!"

Astarion blinked rapidly as he watched most of them turn and grumble back to their spots,but gale looked at him with worry.

"I'll just say I taste AWFUL!"

----

He had found himself gripping his stomach laughing while a goblin was flung into the sky after being forced to replace the gnome.

Baucus stared in shock, watching the goblin immediately become a screaming speck.

Lae zel wore a small smirk,admiring the sheer distance. Eldora dusted off her hands and said nonchalantly

" you think he'll be pulp when he lands or just pop?"

---

Eldoras hands where small, chilled to the touch as she tracked the marks on his back.

" some of this piled up, it was healing..."

Astarion didn't answer while she mumbled to herself as she read his back.

She looked at him with heavy concern as she told him what it was, a different kind of frown.

----

Sitting at last light inn, he watched Eldora pretend to be affected by a truth herb. He watched he comfort children, lean down and listen close to a comatose man. He watched and he watched.

----

He didn't realize until after Raphael had left them, the way she looked at him. She looked to him with heavy concern.

Thats a devil after all...

---

Somewhere in the temple of shar Astarion watched as their brilliant leader chucked skulls at karlach, who swung a club at them. Karlach slapped her thigh and grinned at her.

"You can't beat that! That's gonna be 200 feet easy!"

Eldora placed a hand flat over her eyes as she squinted into the abyss.

" damn you hit a rat !"

Astarion found himself looking around as the sound of her laughter echoed across the massive halls. Shadowheart trotting around a corner looking flustered.

"This way!"

-----

At the moment, laying flat on his back in a pile of viscera blood and pebbles, he couldn't tell where he went wrong. All the same, something exploded and yurgir's head landed a few feet beside his own.

It's blood dark, thick, and heavy splattered across astarions face. Disgusted he jumped up rapidly wiping it away

"God's it smells rancid!?"

A soft thump sounded behind him, turning around he saw the lot of them huffing and panting to recover.

Curiously went and leaned over Eldora.

" You alright, darling? You look a bit pale."

He grinned bright and wide when her laughter echoed off the walls.

------

They sat again all of them still recovering after once again Raphael had left them.

Again she looked at him, her lips pursed with worry as she looked up at him. The concept could be thrilling, so why did she look at him like that?

-----

After everything, every fight encounter and battle she looked at him. Making sure he was still there, still breathing. Still fine.

This time, he watched as shadowheart yelled, disgusted and outraged. He watched Eldoras eyes narrow when she leaned forward.

" I've made my choice, I did not agree to you or yours. Off with you."

He glanced curiously back and forth while shadowheart glared over her shoulder on her way out. Eldora seemed to march along down the path to moonrise with a placid expression. She didn't care.

-----

Camp

It's different now, he looked over to see her smiling bright for halsin. He rambled away as old men do, though for some reason, she kept smiling up at him.

Trotting along the paths was odd as now Eldora was thrilled to be sitting on a bears back for short distances.

Now when he drank from her, he could smell a musk that was most certainly not hers.