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moqi2004 · 1 year ago

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Omgomg I need to see Dalv being introduced to Starlo's family

Hi! Sorry for how long this took! I wrote about 400 words last Wednesday and couldn't get myself to write more, and I was busy after that. It's done now though, and I hope you enjoy! I will tell you that on the proofread, I screamed to myself saying "THEY'RE GAY" multiple times out loud.

And to the anon who more recently asked for this same thing, you get your wish early :) congrats!

Family Introductions

Words: 1530

Cross-Posted on Ao3

Tags: implied past Staroba (one sided), family interactions, fluff, self-consciousness, anxiety, family teasing, sugary sweet, reassurances, Starlo being a proud boyfriend.

Summary: Starlo takes Dalv to meet his family in Sunnyside Farm. Dalv is understandably nervous about this. He finds that he has nothing to worry about.

Fic under the cut. Enjoy :)

Dalv’s first time in the Wild East had been the most fun he’s ever had. At first, the heat had been difficult to deal with, and the grains of sand loitering around within his shoes were almost unbearable. Luckily for him, his boyfriend was there. Starlo had offered to carry his cloak while they walked, which Dalv was quite happy to let him do. He also rolled up the sleeves on his shirt, attempting to cool down his body as much as possible. It didn’t take Dalv long to notice that Starlo was staring at him, eyes widened and face slightly flushed. Dalv bashfully held back from bringing it up.

He made a mental note of the reaction regardless.

The Wild East itself was a quaint little tourism spot with limited technology. Dalv noticed that most shopping and general commerce was done in Oasis Valley just west of there, while classic Dunes entertainment was celebrated right here. With a rustic tavern and even a jail (for show, thankfully), the place felt like it had jumped right out of a children’s tale! The aesthetic and charm quickly drew Dalv in, allowing to forget about the unbearable heat for just a moment.

Having the opportunity to meet all of Starlo’s friends was truly a blessing for him. After saying a quick hello to Ceroba, who he had kept in close contact with after she visited him in Snowdin with a box full of corn, he was introduced to The Feisty Four. They were all a joy to get to know. Dalv was content to sit and watch as Ed and Moray teased and bantered with Starlo, Ace staying back with him to make sure he was comfortable. Dalv had to reassure Ace a couple of times that he didn’t feel like he was being dragged around or forced into goofing with the posse. Star did have to stop Mooch from looting Dalv’s person a couple of times.

The two of them didn’t linger for very long, however. While Starlo did consider his posse as a second family, the real reason the two came all this way was so Dalv could visit Starlo’s family. As the two walked past Blackjack’s and out of town, Dalv couldn’t ignore how his heart began to race and his mind began to panic. What if Star’s family didn’t approve of their relationship? What if they didn’t like him? What would he do if things went wrong? Would he and Star have to…?

“Hey, Dal? You doin’ okay? Yer shakin’ a bit…”

Dalv’s attention quickly snapped towards Starlo. In his thoughts he had failed to notice that they had stopped walking, the pair’s hands carefully intertwined. Starlo could probably feel just how sweaty Dalv’s palm was starting to become.

“Uh- I’m…”

Dalv wanted to tell Starlo that everything was okay…

He knew that would help nothing.

“I’m worried… I don’t really know if your family will like me…”

“Dal…” Starlo reached towards him with his free hand and rested it against his cheek, “I know my Ma and Pa will love ya. With a huge heart like yers, I know they’ll see ya for the monster I love. Heck, with the dedication to yer work and experience growin’ corn yerself, I’m sure even Orion will get along with ya! All you need to do is be the vampire I fell in love with.”

“But what if they hate me-”

“If they hate ya I’ll drag ya outta there and shower ya with all the kind words ya deserve t’hear.”

“So you won’t… Leave?”

“Of course not, darlin’... Never.”

Starlo leant forwards and pressed a delicate, reassuring kiss to Dalv’s forehead. Dalv allowed his shoulders to relax and nestled himself within his boyfriend’s arms. Star returned the hug eagerly, pressing a couple more light kisses to his horns. Dalv was unsure why he was so apprehensive in the first place. He had Starlo, after all. He knew the Sheriff was a noble and kind soul. He was ashamed to even think that he considered Star leaving him because of his family’s reactions.

“So, uh,” Starlo spoke up, the two still embraced, “you still ‘aight to do this?”

“Of course,” Dalv broke away with a warm smile, “lead the way.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *. 🦇 .* :☆ ﾟ｡･ ───

Dalv was certain he had stepped into his own personal heaven. He knew that was probably a little sad, calling a corn farm the equivalent of paradise, but he truly couldn’t help it! The farm was a quaint little area with a corn field bigger than what Dalv could ever grow back in The Ruins. A cute, cobbled path and a little white house completed the homely feel that Sunnyside Farm radiated so strongly. Nearby, a four-pointed star in messy overalls and a plaid shirt was tending to the crops. Star momentarily glanced towards Dalv before waving.

“HEYYY, ORION!” he yelled, causing Dalv to jump a little.

The star turned around, eyebrow raised and lips drawn in a line of mild annoyance. He then caught sight of Dalv, who squeezed Starlo’s hand for support as the two were approached.

“Starlo,” Orion briefly regarded, “who’s this?”

“Right!” Starlo moved his hand from Dalv’s to wrap his arm around his shoulder, “Orion, this is Dalv, my partner! Dalv, this is Orion, my brother!”

“H-Hello there,” Dalv held out his hand for Orion to shake, "It's, uh, nice to meet you. This farm looks so well maintained, you must do an excellent job keeping the crops at this quality. I struggled to grow my own in The Ruins because of the lighting conditions and drab environment, but I found that with enough love and care the stalks can still grow to be incredibly strong and durable. It really portrays the… Strength of the… Plant…”

Dalv trailed off, eyes wide. Oh no, he’d been caught corn rambling! How could he let himself do that??? He focused back on reality when he felt his outstretched hand move up and down.

“You managed to grow corn in a place like that?” Orion asked, letting go of Dalv’s hand.

“Yea, he did!” Starlo chimed in, looking at Dalv with the proudest expression, “really impressive stuff, too! I’ve seen it myself!”

“Ah, it’s nothing that impressive-” Dalv began.

“Starlo!”

The three turned at the call of Star’s name. A sun monster and a moon monster walked down the steps of the house’s front porch. Starlo happily waved to the both of them, Dalv looking at him and then giving a small, shy wave of his own. When the two approached, the moon wrapped Starlo into a hug, which he seemed content with accepting. The sun monster came over to jostle the hat on Star’s head, as if ruffling the hair he didn’t have. The two then regarded Dalv, who Star was eager to introduce.

“Ma, Pa, this is Dalv! He’s, uh…” Star flushed a light pink, “he’s my partner.”

The two simultaneously looked to Dalv, who willed himself not to shrink backwards at the attention. He’d done many organ concerts at this point, but the stage fright from that could barely compare to the anxiety he felt at this moment. He steeled his mind. Please don’t hate me please don’t hate me please-

Dalv feels his hands being held. It felt different to Starlo’s hands-

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Dalv,” the moon monster smiled sweetly, holding both of his hands within her own, “my name is Crestina. I’m Starlo’s Mother. Thank you so much for being there for my little boy.”

“Ma, please…”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all, miss,” Dalv beamed.

“My name’s Solomon,” the sun monster added, “and truly, I’m glad Starlo finally found someone else after all these years. I thought that after Ceroba, he’d-”

“Pa, come on!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Solomon let out a hearty laugh.

“Don’t pay them no mind, Dal, I beg of ya…”

“Don’t worry, Star” Dalv looked at his boyfriend.

Dalv wasn’t sure what came over him after that. He just… Spoke.

“Honestly, I should be thanking all of you,” he began, “thank you for raising Star. I’m so happy I was able to meet him. He’s the kind of monster who can make any situation fun; who can bring joy everywhere he goes. He’s just so… Warm. So much so that I feel that same warmth whenever I’m with him. He’s supportive of me and my art, he’s amazing to talk to, and the only person I can think of spending all my time with… I couldn’t imagine life as it was before I met him… So thank you for having me, and uh, hopefully I can be the monster to stay by your son’s side.”

Dalv turned to Starlo, who’s face was a glowing scarlet. His jaw hung slack and his eyes were blown wide under his hat.

“He’s perfect,” Crestina whispered to herself.

“Huh?” Dalv looked towards her, hands still within hers.

“Come with me, Dalv,” Crestina began to walk, gently guiding Dalv along with her, “I simply must show you our family photo album. I can assure you, my Starlight was an absolute treasure growing up-”

“MA!”

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

REBLOGS > LIKES

#corn yaoi #uty dalv #uty starlo #uty north star #darlo #undertale yellow #writing requests

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whimsylace · 2 years ago

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Hey mate; in your Tags you were asking for asks and as you are the (self proclaimed) #1 Darry apologist, I thought you might want to share some of your Darry Headcanons with the world?

DARRY CURTIS HEADCANONS

﹕୨୧ ˚ ࿐

anon i love you so much oh my god. ur ask was like a gift from god or sumh💯💯🗣️🗣️ THANK U SM FOR THE ASKK IVE ALWAYS WANTED TO SHARE THESE !!!!!!!!!!!

he sleeps in his parents’ old room

secretly drinks when he’s having a tough time. the only two people that have caught him are soda and two

has dimples. this is basically canon because patrick swayze has them but its not talked ab enouhj!!!!1!!!!!1!!!!!11

has caught dally drinking from their fridge straight out the carton before and forbid him from ever going near the fridge again.

^isn’t aware that the entire gang does this (-pony and johnny because they’ve been paranoid that they’re going to get banned from the fridge ever since that incident.)

rants to tim all the time. tells ponyboy to stay away from the shepards but is also besties with the literal leader like hmmmmm,,, sometjing isn’t right here…………

was the first person dally met when he came to tulsa. literally scooped him up into his arms and brought him home.

sSPEAKING OF DAL! darry worries waay too much about him. dallys like a kid brother to him n hes just constantly paranoid something bads gonna happen to him.

((the “dally sees darry as an older brother” headcanon is literally whats keeping me going rn🙏))

sleeps with his childhood teddybear . their parents gave it to him on christmas when he was 7 and has been attached to it ever since.

actually rlly interested in literature!!! he’s tried to write a couple books by himself before but couldnt get them published.

tries to always wake up early so he gets to make breakfast (he doesn’t want their kitchen to be in flames when he wakes up)

gets genuinely upset when someone makes fun of his age. he grew up too fast cries bawls shits

would always bake with his mom!!!! they would bake together every week. it’s how he has his moms chocolate cake recipe memorized.

has really fancy handwriting. except it used to be all fancy and now it just looks like a doctors note

helps two-bits mom with cooking and his sister with her homework. also does two’s chores in return for stolen free beer (not buying it himself makes him feel less guilty)

would take every stray cat home if he could. prefers cats to dogs because he hates how noisy they are,, but he adores puppies .

I HAVE MORE BUT I DONT WANNA MAKE THIS TOO LONG SORRY🤕🤕

#i was gonna add angsty ones but those r for another time #i feel like while darrys helping twos sister w/ hw two’s just staring at him all lovey dovey #and then dar realizes so hes like ‘‘what teh fuck are you looking at never make that face again’’#okay YEAH theres a pinch of darbit so what!!!!!!#the outsiders #darry curtis #darrel curtis #dallas winston #dally winston #two bit mathews #keith mathews #tim shepard #stars asks ♡

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orangesyellow · 5 months ago

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Hi there! sorry it's been a while since I checked in so this will be a longer note. I hope you had a great weekend and week so far! I know, I wish I had written down what my answers were for the form because I can't recall anything now. 😅 I didn't watch Judge from Hell but I heard great things about it so I added it to my long list of shows. Light Shop looks great and I've heard some good things about it so I think I will move it higher on my list for this year. I think an upcoming show I'm looking forward to is Melo Movie. It looks cute and I'm a sucker for second chance romance.

If you're looking to get into cdramas there's a few I'd recommend that are more recent that you may enjoy. Guardians of the Dafeng just ended but it was a really fun show with a good ensemble cast. Dylan Wang (Wang Hedi) who was in Love Between Fairy and Devil (another excellent fantasy wuxia I'd highly recommend) is the lead and plays a modern day guy who gets transported to this other fantasy/historical world and he uses his modern day knowledge at the start to help him solve cases to get more promotions and gain the trust of key people in Dafeng. It's so much funnier than I thought it would be but has a good balance of some more serious scenes and lots of mysteries to solve.

For modern cdramas I'm still getting into them, but one I think you may actually really enjoy is Meet Yourself. I think you mentioned in your form that Run On is one of your fav shows and while it's not similar in storyline, it gave me the same comfort feeling that show had and the entire cast is amazing. It's very female-centric and the friend group is so lovely and funny. I feel like with 40 eps you really get the time to sit with the characters and get to know them so much better. Even the supporting/side characters have their own story arcs and side plots so you feel like you're part of this village. There's definitely some really serious and sad moments where I was bawling but there are so many wholesome, cute, romantic, and funny moments that make you feel like you're watching real people's lives. The only downside with this show is that I feel like it's so good and nothing else will compare to it now. Forever wishing I could wipe my memory of it so I can watch it again for the first time.

hi, it's your secret valentine again~ I realized in my last ask I forgot to ask you somethings to get to know you better. what are some traits that draw you to a character? you can be general or if there's some specific characters you adore and want to talk about I'd love to hear about them! are there certain things that make you connect to a show/character?

Wait, saying that nothing else will ever compare to Meet Yourself is such a strong declaration for the show, I am so intrigued! I do love shows that can make me cry but also have a worthy pay off. I might definitely might start there when I dip into cdramas!! Thank you for all the recommendations! I think the hardest part in anything is starting, so I just have to get over that hill. I hope Melo Movie exceeds your expectations. I think we can all agree we the kdrama fandom needs a new obsession.

As for what draws me to characters... Idk why I was having such a hard time answering that question, but I just looked through my fave characters tag (which is definitely not exhaustive of characters I like/love), but I noticed that it's usually characters who have a strong sense of self..? And I feel like that presents itself in various way, whether it's in what they are passionate about (mi-joo) i just love it when they have their hobbies(!) or the way they live their lives or their outlook on life (Dal-mi, cheong-ah). Gosh, I honestly have no idea if that made sense, but I hope it helps in some way! ^.^

#replies #💌

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exotictravelsolution · 11 months ago

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trixcuomo · 5 years ago

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4. Slay Dalaran City Clinic

((Part four of the craziest Kael’thas fangirl story I intend to write! Get ready for the ultimate Trixany-Gaga parody... 10 min read, 18+ for sexual themes.))

youtube

When I look back on my life in Outland, it’s not that I don’t want to see things with Kael’thas exactly as they happened. It’s just that I prefer to see them in a happier way. And you know, the way that the new me, the carefree Kaja-Cola Girl I had to become might experience these things is more honest because my better self invented it.

Clinical psylosophy, if you ask that Forsaken guy near Durnholde Keep, tells us that trauma is the ultimate killer. My people faced extinction. We lost our king, our way of life was nearly obliterated. And in a mad attempt to recover it all on his own, we ultimately lost our beloved Prince Kael’thas.

And then the Void Elves… To me, it still feels we might lose ourselves forever.

It’s like my life in Quel’thalas, today, is this broken mirror. And as the owner of that mirror, I’ve tried to fit the pieces back together. Make it perfect, clear again. But I can still see the crack in that mother fucker’s reflection.

It’s not that, ‘Trixany, by becoming a Kaja-Cola Girl, and a parody singer—which sounds so spectacularly weird in a way—and then getting high in Pandaria with a succubus to re-live moments with Kael’thas, when you’re supposed to be a righteous Blood Knight and follower of the Light… you’ve been so dishonest.’

No. It’s just that Blood Knight Trixany Cuomo loathes her reality.

For example, the Dalaran nurses here at the clinic? To me, they all have these super short, fashionable skirts on, with their tops open to the navel. And every one of them looks like Kael’thas Sunstrider.

And Kael’s shoes?

I’ve always wanted him to show off those legs, so he’s in white platform stilettoes.

I know what kind of world this is, I don’t care. I’m not talkin’ bout the weapon.

I tipped all the Kael’thas nurses’ hats to the side, because I need this to feel like another delicious, dirty dream. Like the one in back Pandaria…

And also because that’s more romantic, better than being admitted to the Dalaran City Clinic by a Night Elf stranger who found me hallucinating alone in the woods.

I also think people making cute meme fanart of Kael’thas will be very big in the next expansion.

Check out that Kael’thas nurse on the right, the one opening the door for my stretcher to go through. He’s got a great ass.

…Bam.

The truth is, back in the Ghostlands, when I mistook that Night Elf Dannox for Kael’thas because Dannox was standing in a sunbeam, and then he groped me? I came out of it, at least I think that I did, then I mauled Dannox like a she-bear. Bit right into his arm with my teeth, like the civilized, highly-trained fighter for the Light that I am.

Oh, there Dannox is now. He’s following the team of Kael nurses as they wheel me into the intensive care ward. Poor baby, whatever I did to his arm, he’s got it in a sling now.

And that Kel’thas nurse on the left? I asked him to order me some fel crystals mixed into a tall, icy glass of Kaja-Cola a couple of hours ago.

They only gave me the Kaja-Cola.

I wish that, back at Tempest Keep, they’d only given Kael’thas the Kaja-Cola.

Oh, here’s the head nurse. Looks like I know him pretty well already.

“Hi again, Kael’thas. You look lovely in that. The gold phoenix stethoscope was a nice touch.”

“I know. I’m a little scared, but then again I do look damned good, don’t I?” I watched him look down over the hot little outfit, “I’m such a clotheshorse too, Trix. I can’t believe slutty women’s fashion is a new thing for me.”

“Mhrm. You should let me dress you in my hallucinations more often.”

“Well, in any case,” He very deliberately and professionally removed my hand from his leg, “Good morning, Bloodthistle princess. How are you feeling?”

“Pretty horny.” Well, that was far more deadpan and threatening than I intended.

“Uh-huh. And anything other than the obvious?” Nurse-daddy Kael’thas did let me reach up and play at twining his long blonde hair in my weakling fingers. He smiled pleasantly at my devoted effort to flirt, even now. Then he went on checking the equipment, magical meters and tubing by my bed. I enjoyed watching him bend over to do all this for me, “Everything went really well, Trixany. You survived the Ghostlands with that Night Elf. Then, you survived Tempest Keep with me.”

“Isn’t that… somehow out of order?”

“Look at you. I remember back when they first assigned you to be my body guard at Tempest Keep. And you saluted me.”

I suddenly felt like screaming at him. Small miracle that I didn’t. I felt like I was out of my body already, with rage, with pain. I was losing control of even sweet this…

“And do you remember what you said to me back then? Trixany?”

“My life for my prince… Except my prince was supposed to be a great man. Back then, I thought my zealotry was warranted.”

“I did what I had to do. You were a Sunfury, you knew that.”

“Kael’thas, you lied to all of us.” Then, in a spark of anger, I don’t know how, I finally found the strength to lunge at him. But two more duplicates of Nurse Kael’thas held me, slammed me down. He then gestured, and a fourth blonde princely nurse strutted up with a syringe. All sharing his wicked, wonderful crooked grin. I kicked out, kicked over a silver tray by my cot. Dannox staggered back, cradling his arm. Twisted silver implements I’d never seen in Silvermoon, nor in all my life fell to the floor, scattered.

But Nurse Kael’thas came in and injected something clear blue into my arm. I slowed. I eased off.

I heard Kael’thas speak with Dannox, while the fifth clone of this crazed, resurrected Bloodmage had a clipboard, taking notes. A dull magical hum swelled in the room.

“Her heart rate is a little low. But that’s Miss Cuomo coming off the Bloodthistle…” Dannox nodded as if this was totally usual, for Kael’thas in heels, a slinky miniskirt, buff chest exposed and accented by a hanging gold stethoscope to be providing medical advice. “She’s just dehydrated now. A few more hours of rest here in the clinic should help.”

Dannox seemed sincerely worried. I assumed he’d dragged me way out to Dalaran out of guilt, or for fear of a bunch of angry Farstriders hunting him down. At least then, he could say he tried and he’d be in neutral territory. “Thank you, nurse. And thank Elune that Trixany didn’t—”

I spoke over them both, “I’m… I’m going to make it?”

Kael’thas smiled handsomely, and he had a dimple just there on his cheek, “Plenty of fluids. And no more Bloodthistle.”

Dannox asked Kael’thas more questions. A part of my brain waited for Dannox to reach around and grope Kael’thas too, while the Blood Elf prince was distracted. I mean, that’s what Dannox did to me, it’s what started this damn mess. But Dannox was trying to negotiate getting me out of there sooner, something about me being a big name, and discretion.

I couldn’t stand it. A part of me had dwindled away, I think. My voice raised like a little kid, who doesn’t know how loud they’re being, because they’re so panicked, because what’s in their imagination is far more important than what the big adults think. “I’m going to be a star, Kael’thas. Do you know why?”

He gave me a tender, patient look. As if he’d never slaughtered thousands and turned to the Burning Legion, or had ever ordered me to collude with him and other Sunfury soldiers to do the same.

“…Because after what they did to our people, Kael’thas. I have nothing left.”

“Aww, Punkin. That’s so nice.” Hair flip there, that put him back to being as callous as I remembered, “Do you need anything else?”

My breathing slowed against my will. Whatever they gave me was kicking in, surely. “I… I want my real life back? I want you back, Kael’thas.”

As always, in nearly everything, which was tragic—Kael’thas proved astute. “Is that why you sing?”

No. I think it was Dannox who asked, this time. Suddenly, it was just the big Night Elf standing by my cot. The nurses had departed to assist other patients in the large ward.

I confided, voice gravelly, “Either that or I’d be crying all the time.” My head lolled to the side, so that I could only see the wall, not him, not anyone else in the gray, gray clinic, “But I see tears as so last season.”

Dannox sat down in the metal chair beside my bed. He was heavy and strong. The metal screeched on the floor when his athletic body budged it. I peeked back his way. Dannox spread his feet on the floor and leaned elbows on his knees. I watched Dannox feel his hurt arm in the sling. Then he weaved his fingers together and squeezed his hands anxiously. He was wiped out. Me and my antics had done all this to him.

I have some goofy instincts, I guess. I presumed getting him to crack a smile might make up for all he endured on my behalf. “Everyone in here looks like Kael’thas in a miniskirt, Dannox.”

His abrupt laugh stirred a few people in the beds around us. “Well, that’s alright. Coming to the Dal City Clinic is always pretty fun for me too, in an um... similar way.”

I think we were both checking out the nurses before I drifted back to sleep.

-fin-

((Please. I please have a request for the Kael’thas stans and the art community on Tumblr here please. Please! Someone draw me a sexy Kael’thas in a female nurse’s outfit. I wanted one for this post but could not find please.

And when you do, please tag it with #slay trixany so we can all bask in its glory. Thx!))

#kael'thas sunstrider #lady gaga #warcraft #slay trixany

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bg-brainrot · 1 year ago

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WHaBFHtLA - Astarion x GN!Reader - Chapter 13: And They Were Roommates

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Elf!Tav)

Genre: Reincarnation, Angst, Mystery, Slow burn

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Canon-Typical Violence, references to past Astarion trauma, references to death and dying, lots of talking

WC: 8.4k words, 13/?? chapters

Summary: You and Astarion try to find a common ground between you. Things are awkward and tentative, and progress is anything but linear.

A/N: Prepare yourself for some big ol’ chapters going forward.

Ao3 | [Ch12][Ch14] | WHaBFHtLA Masterlist

After agreeing to stay with Astarion, you went from being veritable strangers to something closer to, well, roommates.

That first day, you had asked him where he’d like you to stay. After having overheard his distaste of you occupying your past-self’s room, you figured any other room would be preferable. However, he simply furrowed his brows, opened his mouth, closed his mouth. You saw him deliberating the various rooms in his mind before he ultimately said, “Stay in our old room for now. I suppose it makes the most sense.”

So you found yourself in the same familiar room, your bags back on the floor. You contemplated asking him for another room, considering the absolutely atrocious reverie you’d last had in this one, but decided to try once more before complaining.

It had been an awkward day already, and you weren't entirely sure what to do next. You'd arrived where you’d meant to be, but now what?

You contemplated speaking to Astarion some more, but the weight of the words you'd already spoken were too heavy to take on much more. You were exhausted, down to your bones, from tension, from tears shed, from the whirlwind of emotions that had swept you through the day. No, there will be time for more conversation tomorrow. For now, you needed to spend the rest of the day recharging.

So you spent that first night refamiliarizing yourself with Dal, as you'd silently sworn you would. Besides, after recalling her gratitude toward you, Petras's lingering questions, there is clearly a history you’ll need to learn more about.

When you’d last brushed up on your dreams, it was with a heavy focus on Astarion. You’d been eager to recall every detail about him and your journal entries with him were so enthusiastic that you didn’t pay much mind to those without him. Now you focused on rereading the entries regarding the vampire spawn.

What you relearned surprised you, and a few journal entries in particular seemed important in retrospect.

Hero’s Life - Entry 5753: No Astarion tonight. I did dream of the Underdark and Astarion’s siblings. Two of them, I think Dal and Leon, were busy setting up some defenses. I was helping the large one (Petra or Petras?) and the tiefling (Aurelia I believe) move some spawn from one location to another in a hurry. I think the other two, the gnome (Usen?) and the other blonde elf were already in hiding. From what I gather, Astarion was scouting around the fortress.

It seemed like a regular occurrence, being under attack. The whole process was very well orchestrated. The spawn siblings thanked me for my help, and I could feel my past-self’s worry. They seem to care a lot about Astarion’s family.

Hero’s Life - Entry 9816: Last night I didn’t dream of Astarion. I was a bit disappointed, but my former self was too focused to note his absence. They spoke to Dal, I think, of a project they’re working on together. The conversation was confusing, I think it was spoken in some kind of code. All I could really tell was that we’re searching for something and that Astarion is not being very helpful.

We looked over a set of diagrams for a while, I took some notes. Toward the end of the reverie we changed topics to the colony, and I have to say, running a vampire colony seems like a lot of work. The fortress is so unsafe, so easy to invade from any side. They were discussing plans for new renovations for a while – I wonder what they will settle on.

Other entries detailed working together with the spawn, setting up structures within their new society, and new rules. It was all quite informative, if a bit out of your depth of expertise. But more than anything, you wanted to know what Dal and your past-self were working on. Tomorrow, you assured yourself, I will simply speak to Astarion to learn more of this.

Here you are now, opening your eyes from an uneventful yet deeply unrestful reverie. You had sworn to speak to Astarion, but you weren’t aware at the time of how absolutely exhausted you would be come morning. Barely able to get up, you curse at the gods when you hear knocking on your door.

"Coming…" you say, voice echoing your weariness.

"Are you quite alright?" Astarion calls through the door. "Or were you lying about getting to know each other? Really, darling, there are better ways to get free lodging."

You give him an annoyed grunt as you open the door, and the gauntness of your face must be truly frightening given the way he looks at you.

"So you're not alright?" He asks, taking a small step back, as if your eyebags could be contagious.

"I'm just tired," you say, yawning. "I haven't managed to get a good reverie in three days. And I've barely made it by on rations, but I think I’ll need some real food soon." As if on cue, your stomach growls and you look down at it in betrayal.

After having gone without mortal food since your past-life's death, it's clear that the vampire’s mansion hasn't the means to feed you. Astarion waves a hand in the air in exasperation. "Can't you just, I don't know, conjure up some food?"

You give him an unbelieving stare. Surely this man, who's lived centuries more than you, can tell the differences between types of magic, right? When his face doesn't change, you clarify, "Er, no. That is exclusively holy magic. My magic is arcane. Has Gale never explained magic to you?"

He laughs, as if you've told a magnificent joke. When you don't reciprocate, he follows it with a snort, "Darling, surely you know the answer to that? If a Gale waxes poetically about magic and no one bothers to listen, did it ever really happen?"

What? I would love to listen to a great archmage like Gale speak about… oh. Many memories from your past-self click in that moment, and you realize that after decades of dreaming of him, you had started to see a lot of Astarion's behavior through the rose-colored glasses that were their affection. That perhaps your earlier memories, of his ridiculous, insane behavior, were not far off the mark. I see. It seems that I loved a man with nary a thought in his beautiful brain.

It makes sense. He's never once in your memories been the 'planner,' and in your time living together, your past-self had been the one at the desk, the one speaking with the spawn, the brains of the operation, so to speak.

It didn't bother you then, and it certainly doesn't bother you now, but it does change the way you approach this. "No matter. Just know that I can't conjure food. It seems like I'll need to go procure some.” You pause to consider your options. “Unless you have a means–”

“No,” he says, cutting you off before you can make a fool of yourself. "And I haven't the faintest where the nearest market might be at this point."

"I see," you say, breathing out a hearty sigh. "Would you happen to be able to help me find–"

"I'm afraid not, darling," he interjects again. "I don't have a sunlight ring currently, and even if I did, I'm not much interested in a field trip."

"Alright," you start, stifling another yawn. "But if that's the that case, how will you–"

"Get to know you? We have weeks. I'm in no rush so please feel free to tend to your bodily needs." He flashes you a wide, fanged smile.

Once was a coincidence, twice irks you, and three times? Well, you can't let three times go unacknowledged. "Why do you keep interrupting me?" you ask him, tone just shy of irritated.

"Oh, am I?" he asks, with a small little laugh. "I hadn't realized." The look he gives you then is full of actual chagrin, and you realize he may not have noticed.

"Yes, it's rather irritating," you say, resisting the urge to forgive him too easily. Between his laugh and his smile, you feel weak to his charms, wanting to slap yourself as much as you had your past-self.

"Well, I'll try to stop," he replies, a smile still somehow present on his face. That's when you notice it, tucked beneath the layers of carefully crafted morning cheer, a nigh imperceptible eye twitch. He's nervous. The thought of this hundreds-year-old vampire being nervous with you is rather… new.

So you find yourself averting your eyes, stowing the feeling away for later. For now, you accept his vow to stop with a mumbled, "Thank you."

You spend the rest of the day in search of a real, living person's food source. Fighting your exhaustion all the while, you stop by the nearby inn, grab a meal, get directions and stock up for the week at a distant market.

By the time you get back to the house, it's getting late and Astarion welcomes you back with an annoyed 'tch.'

"What a waste of a day, darling. I don't know how much longer you plan on staying up, but I'm quite tired by now." He gives a big, cat-like yawn and makes a show of stretching.

It's barely even half past six, and you can tell he's exaggerating, so you only respond, "It makes sense that the older you get the more beauty sleep you need, but I always presumed vampires were the exception to the rule."

He scoffs at you, but a wicked little smirk betrays how much he enjoys the jab. "So you do have some bite to you. Good to know."

"I don't think I could live through as much of my previous life as I did and not have some bite left over," you say with a small, satisfied smile. "After facing down horrors, otherworldly beings, literal devils– I’ve learned only from the best how to handle any situation.”

At the mention of your former life, Astarion's own smirk slips some. He clears his throat and responds, "Right. That makes… sense.” He bounces between his feet uncertainly before continuing, “Well, if you need anything else, within reason, you can find me in my room. Goodnight, darling." With that, he turns heel and practically runs away from you.

Well, you think to yourself. That wasn’t ideal. Maybe it was a bit too much? You make a mental note to be careful with your past, maybe not mention it so casually– at least not until he's ready.

You’d forgotten to mention that the room had been ruining your reveries, and he’s too long gone to ask for a replacement. Hopefully you’ll get used to the uncomfortable memories with time.

That night your meditation comes easier, your rest is less interrupted. You dream of a life where you had been a chef. Perhaps for the first time in your current lifetime, this life's dreams will matter for your survival.

The next day begins on a far better foot.

Now that you have ingredients, a set of plates and silverware to use, even a pot and pan on which to cook, you happily follow Astarion to the kitchen for breakfast. You wonder briefly if he’d appreciate another offer of blood, but decide against it for now– your memories have warned you enough about this and you don’t want your new relationship tainted by how transactional blood drinking can be for vampires.

Instead, you settle into the kitchen to cook a simple breakfast of eggs and bacon while Astarion sits at his kitchen table, watching.

After a few minutes of a silence that doesn’t quite hit comfortable, Astarion speaks up. "How did you know where to find me the other day?" He asks genuinely. "In your past life, we hadn't built the tunnel to the Underdark yet."

"Oh," you say, recalling your adventures throughout his house as you stir your eggs. You contemplate lying, but decide that there's no use in starting off on that foot. The rough path of honesty it is. "I actually went, erm, looking about. I likely searched most of the house before stumbling upon the illusory wall."

"You're quite the investigator aren't you?" He asks, and there's a note of concern in his voice.

You wonder why that could be, but when you look up to see him genuinely curious for an answer, you can’t help but respond. "You could say that. I love a good puzzle." You shrug and take your eggs off the stove.

"I see." He says, a far off look glazing over his eyes. "How did you manage to find the fake wall?"

"Rhapsody gave it away," you say, recalling the dagger's dive onto the floor.

Astarion clicks his tongue, annoyed. "Ah yes, that old thing. I wish I could get rid of it, its odd shape makes it prone to falling. But I can't."

"You can't?" His firm stance on it tickles the back of your mind, as if a memory is begging to burst forth. Sitting down with your plate of eggs and bacon, you search his hard red eyes for answers before beginning your meal.

"Oh not for any sentimental reasons," he says. "Don't you mind that though. What shall we get up to today?”

The part of your brain that feels close to something– something important– wants to press, but you recall how he ran away from you yesterday. You know he likely isn’t any more prepared today than he was then, so you decide to tuck it aside for later. “Well, I was wondering when we might have a chance to speak to the spawn again?” You begin, listlessly moving your eggs about your plate as you speak. “I was rereading my dreams with Dal and–”

Astarion makes a show of rolling his eyes at you before interrupting. “I’m not interested in rehashing the past, as I’ve said. Your dreams are just that– the past. What should we do today?”

You pause your fork halfway to your mouth to respond. “But the spawn seem to be a big part of your life, are they not?”

“Of course they are, but they’re only a part of it.” He folds his hands together in front of him on the table and stares you down. “If I knew you’d be so interested in them and not me, I wouldn’t have suggested this.”

Gulping down a bite of food, you take a moment to process his words. As much as Dal’s remarks burn in your mind and your memories with her seem to taunt you from the bag at your hip, you know that that’s not really why you’re here. It’s just another puzzle that’s tantalizing you, one you deeply wish to uncover, but also one that seems to run contrary to everything Astarion hopes for.

That bothers you. After all, he was nothing but a helpful brother down in the Underdark. But clearly a line between him and the spawn has been drawn somewhere– you’ll have to toe it until you get more concrete answers. “Sorry, curiosity got the better of me,” you finally reply, smiling at him apologetically. “In that case, I’m really quite amenable to anything you’d like to do. Any hobbies we would be able to do together?”

Astarion seems to visibly calm when you drop the subject of the spawn. “Ah yes, that should be a good place to start. I quite like reading, embroidery, I even do the odd whittling after that damned druid taught us. I have also found myself to be fairly adept at crafting scents.”

You nod as he lists, familiar with many of these hobbies from your memories. Chewing on a piece of bacon, you motion for him to continue with a hand wave.

He looks at you appraisingly for a second before saying, “Well if you insist on hearing more about me and my hobbies, who am I to refuse.” You’d always thought he seemed relieved to finally open up to your past-self, and the way he speaks seems to confirm your suspicions. “When I have the chance to enjoy the sun, I tend to make a day of it, go to Baldur’s Gate, enjoy the sights, ‘acquire’ myself some materials– sometimes I even find myself a meal in the form of some ruffian.”

“How often do you get to enjoy the sun?” you ask, voice a bit cautious as you’re certain this must be a sore spot for him.

Surprisingly, Astarion seems unperturbed by this particular line of investigation. “About once a month. Maybe once every couple– it really depends on how pressing any of my business is in Baldur’s Gate.” Then, likely noticing the sad tilt of your eyebrows, he shakes a finger at you. “Don’t be so… needlessly sympathetic. There are a lot of spawn and, while I may get priority for a sunlight ring on account of my previous heroics, 6000 spawn sharing a limited number of rings means I can’t afford to be selfish.”

You chew another bite of bacon as you contemplate his words. He says he doesn’t believe in love anymore, that he’s not the same man, but from that statement alone, you know your past-self has left a considerable mark. You decide not to point this fact out to him and instead ask another question, “In that case, how many rings do you have among you?”

“I’d say we’re somewhere around a hundred?” he answers, placing a finger on his chin as he thinks. “Dal would know best. But Gale sends us one every once in a while, sometimes they get lost, so the number changes. They’re not impossible to make, but they take time and a highly skilled archmage.”

“Is that why you’ve stayed friends with Gale all these years?” you ask, a teasing tone in your voice that you find comes naturally.

Astarion laughs, and it’s one of his now rare, real laughs. You can recognize the sound from your memories. “Was I that obvious?”

You can’t help but laugh along with him, an odd happiness bubbling in your chest alongside the laughter. Is this our first real, shared laugh? you think. Externally, you reply, “I’d say so. Though you do keep him quite busy,” you pause, gesturing back toward his room with a piece of bacon. “Were those illusions all his work as well?”

The vampire in front of you looks at you thoughtfully again, and more than anything you wish you could read his mind. He responds with, “Of course. He’s a master of illusions. Taught it for at least a century.” Then, abruptly, he adds, “I don't remember you being this intelligent. It’s quite irksome.”

The way he says it isn’t meant to be insulting, but you can’t help but feel a bit defensive at the statement. He states it as if being smarter is some kind of crime. “I wasn’t, to my recollection,” you start, all of your previous amusement dropping from your expression. “I’m afraid I can't help it though. If it’s an issue, you’ll have to take it up with my parents.”

“Parents?” he asks, somewhat incredulously. “You have… those?”

It’s almost as if it’s a foreign concept to the man. You suppose it must be, considering that he hasn’t had his own in centuries, and your previous self had long since lost their parents when they met. “Yes, Astarion,” you say, adopting a patient tone. “Parents, as in those who raised me, cared for me. They know all about you, you know.”

Astarion doesn’t seem to enjoy that particular fact. “Oh, do they?” The man scoots out a bit from his chair. “That’s quite interesting. And are they expecting you back anytime soon?”

You shrug, honestly not sure what your parents expect. “No, but I was going to cast a quick Sending spell to them before too long. It’s my first big trip, so I’m sure they’d like an update.”

Again, you’ve said something that’s made Astarion uncomfortable, reminded him that you’re both worlds away from each other in a way that may be impossible to surmount. You can practically see the excuses lining up behind his lips as he scoots another inch back. “You don’t say? Well, it would hardly do to keep them waiting, would it?” Before you can respond, he stands up in a single movement. “I shall leave you to it then? Of course, you know where to find me.”

He’s gone before you can contest him, and you’re left alone with the last remnants of your breakfast. “Great. So no past-life memories, no mentions of the spawn, and no mentions of my own life,” you speak down to the eggs on your plate. “What can I talk to him about without him running away?”

Once you finish breakfast, you do end up sending a message to your parents. It’s a short message, well within your 25-word limit, “I’m safe at Astarion’s. Will be here until the end of the month. Love you.”

You receive a message back a moment later from your mother, “Thank the gods. Keep us updated, and don’t forget that it’s not illegal to cast in self-defense. Love you too.”

Afterward, you seek Astarion out again, only to find that he’s sequestered himself in the bath. He stays there until dark and leaves as soon as he gets out with the excuse, “I need to find something to feed on. I shall see you tomorrow.”

You watch him leave with an annoyed expression on your face. You can’t very well force him to interact with you, but it feels like he’s not even trying to confront the pain he’d claimed to be so willing to face.

That night you dream of a life in which you were a warrior. This life’s reveries were always a bit dull for you, but tonight you welcome their training and discipline. You maintain the dream and feel a full night’s rest for the first time in days.

The following day, the fourth day that you’re spending in his house since your agreement, you decide to forgo breakfast. You wake up energetic and rested so you decide to confront Astarion right as he leaves his room.

“Morning,” you say, a bright and casual smile plastered on your face. Doing your best to hide the fear you feel, the nerves that stand on edge, you begin your new strategy: figuring out what you can about Dal and the spawn before he up and leaves.

“Oh hello,” he says, eyebrows furrowed a bit in concern. While he does seem to believe you are his reincarnated love, he continues to be incredibly wary of you, defenses raised high after more than a century alone. It shows in his crossed arms, the way he took a single step back before continuing, “What brings you to my door so eagerly this morning?”

“I was just getting an early start after entering my reverie early yesterday,” you say, continuing the cheer that you did not remotely feel. “I was also hoping to start the day by asking you some questions.”

“Again?” he asks, and his entire body wavers in the doorway of his room.

You’re worried he’s about to step back into the room so you hold out a hand: a silent invitation to take it. “Perhaps we can go on a walk about the house as we talk?”

Astarion declines without as much of a second glance at it, simply leaning into the doorway. “Ask your questions then, be quick about it.”

You take a second to take stock of him, to see if his pallor has improved after feeding. He seems exactly the same as the day before, only dressed in a different immaculate, silken garment. You wonder if he lied about where he went, but decide against wasting your questions on that– perhaps your dreams simply haven’t gotten you used to the nuances of vampires. Instead you start bluntly, “Your siblings acted quite strangely toward me. Why was that?”

His expression betrays nothing, his face implacable as he responds, “I’m afraid I’m not Dal or Petras, so I can’t provide you with a satisfying answer.”

It’s not much to go off of, but you’re ready with your next question already. “It seems that I was rather closer to the spawn than I had previously thought. What was my relationship with them in my past-life?”

Now his facade cracks a bit, eyes narrowing with something you can’t quite place. “You were close,” is all that he provides.

“Close doesn’t seem to describe it all,” you say, stepping closer, growing bold with the fracture in his mask. “Dal was thankful for my return. What was she thankful for?”

He seems to want to step back, to retreat into his room, and you know you’re dangerously close to losing him again. His next words are more than a bit dodgy. “Likely for your wonderful presence back in her life. Though she likely wouldn’t have said that if she knew how forward you are in the mornings.”

You take his dig as an opening. “I’m only forward because I know how excited they were to see me. Petras said I would be able to help. I can't help until I know what they need help with.”

Astarion sighs, relenting infinitesimally to your badgering as he says, “Their minds are filled with delusions of… well, nothing of importance.”

“Delusions of what?”

“Nothing,” he says through gritted teeth. “And if you continue to bother me, consider this conversation over.”

You want to push more, follow with a chiding ‘Astarion’, like your past-self may have done. But you’re finding yourself wary, the tenuous bond you’re building is as brittle as an old piece of parchment. So you yield for now. “Alright. My apologies for prying. What would you like to do today then?”

The vampire noticeably regains his composure, and offers you a simple exercise for the day, “Shall we share some books we like?”

It’s no hard hitting truths or delving into secrets of the past, but you spend a better part of the day in the library with Astarion. He points out some of his favorites, which you note for your own reading leisure, and you share some of your own. While some of his interests are a bit out of your particular purview, your tastes are not dissimilar. You read more history than he does, he reads more thrillers, you both enjoy a good adventure book.

Overall, the day doesn’t end with him running away from you, so you chalk it up as a win.

That night, you dream of a past life where you were an innkeeper in a remote village. It came with plenty of downtime, and you spend the reverie reading a riveting tale of dragons and conquests. You try to recall every detail you can so that you can relay the story to Astarion come morning.

The next day, you decide to take the same approach: Start out strong, and see where that takes you for the rest of the day.

Again, he seems surprised to find you right outside his doorway. “My, aren’t you an impatient one. An early rise once again?”

You nod, smiling another winning smile. “I have more questions for you.”

“Fine,” he says reluctantly, leaning on the door frame once more. “What are you plaguing me with today?”

After yesterday’s somewhat success, you decide to push a bit more on your past-self today. “So, the Hero’s Life is quite fascinating to me…”

“The what?” he all but chokes out. A laugh resembling a cough comes out next and Astarion continues with, “They wouldn’t have liked it being called that.”

“Sorry, it’s something of a shorthand for me,” you say, sheepishly. You realize that you’ve slipped up, but all the same you feel the need to find clarity, “But they were recognized as a hero, weren't they?”

Astarion seems loath to agree with that statement. Rather than answering you directly, he says, “They were a leader.” He shakes his head, thinking better of his statement. “No. They were… something special.”

The far-off tone to his voice indicates that you might be losing him. You hadn’t intended the conversation to go this way. Truth be told, you’d wanted his help to fill out some of the gaps of your knowledge. It seems like you won’t get much further with this line of thought today though, so you decide to move on for the day, “That they were. What should we do today?”

Almost startled out of his thoughts, the vampire turns to you, seeing you again as the mist clears. “Ah, yes, today. I do have some business to attend to. The colony simply can’t run on its own.” You nod, recalling some of the planning from his conversation with Dal and your own memories. “Would you– well, perhaps it’s too dull. Then again…” He gives you a quick once over. “Considering what you find interesting, you may even find it entertaining. Would you care to join me?”

That’s how you spend the rest of the day next to Astarion’s desk, pouring over papers and familiarizing yourself with the logistics of the colony. You learn about their shipping schedules, their attempts to get blood in the underground markets of Baldur’s Gate, their repair and maintenance plans. For anyone else, it may very well have been boring, but you find yourself enraptured, sharing suggestions with Astarion easily.

In the evening, you hear knocking on the front doors. You can tell by his expression that Astarion knows immediately who it might be. “Ignore them,” he says. “I’ve already fed this week and the spawn are in a decent state. Better that they think no one is home.”

You decide not to mention the fact that the lights are clearly on in his house and nod in agreement. As you both get back to work, you wonder how often he rejects visitors– or perhaps if he’s rejecting them because he’s enjoying spending time with you. You decide not to let your pathetic little heart get ahead of your brain and settle on asking him next time someone comes calling.

By the end of the day, you almost feel like business partners, and, considering all of the sensitive information he’s shared with you, you certainly feel like he trusts you. It warms you so entirely that you’re surprised to find yourself crawling into bed with a smile. You can’t remember the last time that happened.

That night you dream of the Hero’s Life once more. Perhaps it was spending so much time in close quarters with Astarion, but the reverie is spent almost entirely in his arms. You talk of an upcoming adventure, make plans to pack the necessary supplies, unfurl a map of the Underdark as you discuss. The whole time his arms are wrapped around you, he’s placing delicate kisses along your neck, he nips at your sensitive pointed ears–it’s not long before all of the planning is pushed aside and he’s pressing you into the desk, his hands quick at work to undress you.

The night is restful, but you wake up a bit embarrassed now that you’ve gotten to know the man.

For your sixth day at the mansion, you try once more to press about the Hero’s Life. This time, you prepare your words a bit more carefully, hoping to avoid the pitfalls of the day before.

“Hello and good morning Astarion!” you say, walking up to his waiting form. He’s clearly caught on to your game, because this time he’s standing outside the door, arms crossed, leaning on the frame.

“Good morning to you too, darling,” he responds, a tight smile on his lips. “What do you plan on asking about today?”

No beating around the bush, not that you mind. After some consideration on what words might not trigger an immediate flight response, you offer him your carefully worded question. “Would you please tell me a bit more about my past-self?”

Astarion seems to take the question in stride, offering no immediate reaction. In the end, his response is short and stern, “No, I don’t particularly care to.”

You had expected such a response, and, more than anything, you’re just glad he hasn’t up and left yet. So you move on to your next question. “What about reading the journals of my past dreams? I could use some assistance on fleshing out the details.”

Again, he doesn’t flinch, he doesn’t even hesitate when he says, “No.” Then as an afterthought he adds, “Thank you for the offer, though.”

You’ve tried being kind and patient, and, while you understand he doesn’t wish to rehash centuries of past pain, you refuse to accept two days with no real progress. As a result, you decide it’s alright to be the impatient young elf you truly are, even if just for a moment, “Then why did you invite me here? You seem uninterested in my memories, uninterested in discussing my past-self or their relationships, mentions of my life in Neverwinter bother you too. What are you interested in?”

Astarion sighs, likely having expected this line of questioning sooner or later– also likely annoyed that it came sooner. “Forget the past, it’s dead and buried now,” he says, pushing himself off the doorframe and beginning to walk toward the kitchen. “I’m rather enjoying getting to know someone new for the first time in… however many years. Let’s just keep doing that.”

You want to argue with him, explain to him that there’s no way of actually moving on until he confronts the hurt that’s settled around his heart like an impenetrable armor. But you’d already been so afraid of causing more pain, how can you justify reopening those old wounds? So you follow him to the kitchen, resigned to another day without genuine progress.

Turning back for a moment he does offer you a lifeline. “If you have something specific you’d like to ask about, I may be willing to entertain it. But I expect you to take no for an answer when you inevitably ruin my day.”

With the way he’s turned toward you, you can’t see most of his face and his voice remains placid throughout it all. You think he’s being genuine though, so you respond, “Okay, then. One question at a time. Thank you, Astarion.”

He gives you a noncommittal hum at that, and waves you along. “Come on, if you don’t have breakfast again, you’ll be cranky by midday.”

You want to be offended at the statement, but with two days without breakfast behind you, you decide against it. As you walk in silence, you consider a few burning questions that have been jostling around your brain for the past few days. Each will surely lead to a poor reception from Astarion, so you land on the question that’s been most bothering you in the past few weeks.

When you’re finally settled over a quick breakfast of oats, you look him straight in his deep ruby eyes and fire it off, “How did I die?”

Despite his relative composure with the previous questions, this one throws him off-balance. His red eyes widen, his mouth opens a bit, and you can all but see the unwelcome memories bursting to the forefront of his mind. You half-expect him to get up and leave without saying anything, but instead he takes a deep breath, drops his gaze, clenches and unclenches his fists on the table. Finally, he exhales through his nose and mutters, “I… I'm not ready to talk about that yet, if that’s alright.”

His voice comes out soft, almost a whisper you have to strain to hear. But he’s made an effort, one that you find easy to respect. “That’s perfectly alright,” you say, reaching a hand out, just shy of his own on the table. You’re afraid of touching him, yet thousands of dreams compel you to comfort him with a soft touch, a gentle caress. So you still offer. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m ready to listen.”

Astarion doesn’t meet your eyes now, though he notes your hand on the table. With a single finger he reaches out, tracing the line of one of your fingernails. “Thank you. You’re so… different. And yet. Similar.” He lifts his eyes back to yours and you see the struggle behind them clear as day. He’s made so much of these past few days look easy, his pain shoved away like a mere nuisance, but it’s been taking a toll on him all the same. “I should think I’d like to rest today, if that’s alright as well?”

What can you really do in the face of his struggles, if not care for him? So you agree. “Very well. I shall see you tomorrow?”

He nods, getting up from the table. “Yes, I shouldn’t need more rest than that.”

That’s how you spend your sixth day in the house alone again.

You don’t want to see this as a wasted day though– you know how little time you truly have with him. So you spend the day sending some messages. You have enough energy for about five messages, so you plan them out ahead of time. Two for Dalyria, one for Petras, one for Halsin, and one last one for your parents.

Your first message is to Dalyria, “Hello, it’s the reincarnated hero. Would you like to meet before I leave? I’m here until the end of the month.”

Her response is quick and efficient, clearly used to Sending spells. “Yes, let’s. Astarion shouldn’t know. He’s been difficult. Let me know when. Give me an hour to prepare. I’ll go to you.”

Having already prepared to use a second spell, you shoot the second off, “Will do. Thank you. For this and for believing me.”

You don’t expect her to respond, but she does a second later anyway. “Only a fool wouldn’t recognize the look in your eyes. Astarion can be a fool.”

Alone in your room, you laugh a little. You don’t have siblings, but you imagine that their relationship has truly changed into something resembling a sibling relationship after all this time. In order for their vampire society to work, they must have had to put aside a lot of past grievances, things said under the harsh rule of Cazador, all for the betterment of the rest of the spawn.

It warms your heart a little to think that he wasn’t alone after losing your past-self, and you wish you could tell your soul as much. Alas, if it were that simple to settle the unease your previous life left behind, you would have done so by now.

Instead, here you are, sending off a message to another one of Astarion’s siblings, Petras. “Hello Petras, it’s the reincarnated hero. I am meeting with Dal soon, but wanted to ask you what you wanted help with?”

It’s been abundantly apparent in a lot of your memories that Petras has never been the brains of the operation. While Astarion was willing to learn some basics of managing the colony, Petras has always been more of the odds and ends kind of contributor. It becomes even more apparent when he responds, and it’s obvious he’s not used to being a recipient of these messages.

“Oh hello! It was good to meet you the other day, I’m glad you made it out alright. I was hoping that you could pick–” The message cuts off at the word limit, and you contemplate sending another or just waiting for your chance to speak with Dal. You figure you’ll speak with her next time Astarion goes to feed which should be in a few days at most.

So, in the end, you decide that your other messages take precedence. Your next one is to Halsin, “Hello Halsin, it’s the reincarnated hero. I’m with Astarion. He says hi. Do you know any details about my previous life’s death?”

Hasin’s responding message comes back a second later, warm, welcoming, and thought out. “Hello, my friend. Astarion didn’t provide much detail. All I know is they were on an adventure together. Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

You write down what you’ve learned from your messages and move on to your last one: your parents. “Hello, all is well. I have a question. Is there a way to recall a past reverie? Love you.”

This time you messaged your father, your usual go-to on the nature of reveries. He responds a moment later, “Hello, glad you’re well. Not in particular. You could maybe try with a Detect Thoughts spell? But you’d need another wizard. Love you too.”

You nod to no one in particular, having thought as much before messaging him. There would be time for that later then.

Now that your messages are done, you decide to spend the rest of the night studying your magic. After all, if you continue a life with Astarion, danger would be around every corner.

That night your reverie comes easily, your mind seems used to the surroundings of the past now. You dream of a life where you were a mage– one of your favorites of your other lives for all of the knowledge they could impart. They were an enchanter and often created marvelous trinkets and items for the small town they lived in. Tonight you make a variety of enchanted items, and you note the spells you cast on each.

Astarion must have lied about only needing a day to recharge. You’re almost mad at yourself for not knowing better, but you believed what you wanted to believe. When he doesn’t appear at his door the next morning, you knock. No one responds.

He hadn’t gone off to the Underdark or Dal surely would have said something in her message. He didn’t seem to be hiding in the bathroom or the library. You’re honestly not sure how much more you’re willing to play these games of hide and seek when you find him sitting in the kitchen, exactly where you last saw him.

“Hello,” he says, once you appear in the kitchen entryway. “I was up a bit early today.”

“I can see that,” you say, heading to the pantry. You’re running on the last of your supplies now that the week is coming to an end. You’ll need to get some more food tomorrow, but at least you know how to make it less of a journey this time. “Are you feeling better today?”

“Much,” Astartion replies, though the smile he gives you isn’t quite convincing. Something about the way he’s sitting, too straight, the way he’s breathing, too shallow, the way he watches you, too cautious– it all tells you that something’s not quite right still.

More than nervous, it feels like he’s on edge. But he’s trying his best, so you decide to try your best too. “That’s good. Are you ready for another question?”

“Yes,” he says, tone pure practiced confidence. “Regale me with it.”

You sit in front of him with a prepared plate of dried fruit and nuts. You’d prepared what you thought would be an easier question. “What happened to some of your other companions?”

“Let’s start with one,” he says, wincing a bit at the question. Painful, but not as bad as yesterday’s question, clearly.

After chewing a bit of fruit thoughtfully, you reach a hand forward, available for comfort. Then you pick, “How about Karlach?”

“Well, she died before your past life did,” he says, as if you should know this already.

“I know,” you say between bites. “But I didn’t see it or learn about it. Only felt the sadness, I remember talking through it with you, but we didn’t speak of any details.”

While you’d told him you’d had gaps in your memories, he apparently had either not believed you or not realized the extent of the gaps. Because he looks at you now like you may as well be a fraud. “What?”

“A lot of my reveries were, well… focused on you. And our time together,” you say, suddenly finding the statement embarrassing. You’d told him so in the dungeons, but something about saying it in the middle of the day in the man’s kitchen makes you feel a bit awkward about it. “I’m not sure why that’s the case, but it does mean that I didn’t get to see much of what happened with the others.”

He looks at you, his already pale face somehow losing more of its pallor. “I see.”

A few seconds of silence pass between you, both of you lost in your respective thoughts. It’s not until you’re biting down on an almond that Astarion speaks again.

“When you said I was your every dream and thought– you weren’t exaggerating were you?” You shake your head in response and he continues. “So how much would you say is ‘a lot’ of your reveries?”

Once again, you’re a bit embarrassed to respond, but you know you must so that he understands. “I think the current count is somewhere around 11,000 reveries.”

The magnitude of your statement sits between you again. The idea that you had lived years worth of reveries with him while he’d only known you for a week is clearly affecting him. You’re not sure what to say to make him feel better– really you’re glad he’s finally facing the truth of it. So you continue to eat your breakfast, waiting for him to process.

After some time he speaks up again. “Karlach died doing what she did best. It was a fight, of course– did you know she kept fighting until each of her bones ached from age? We told her she should stop eventually, settle down somewhere, live a calmer life. But no, that would never suit her, would it?”

You shake your head in agreement, smiling at the thought of the elderly tiefling wielding a massive ax as if it weighed no more than a feather. “That makes sense, she would rather die than stop moving.”

He smiles back at you, calmer now that you’ve gotten past some of the awkwardness. “She really would.”

“I guess you all would,” you say, recalling some of the adventures your past-self had had with Astarion. “I wonder if my own soul is so restless as a result.”

You had been trying to make a lighthearted observation, especially considering how the call of the Underdark was so strong for you, but Astarion doesn’t seem to appreciate the statement. Eyes wide, a bit of panic in them, he says, “Then we ought to find a way to quiet that restlessness.”

You tilt your head at him, confused. “Aren’t you going out and about, defending the spawn and fighting still?”

“Yes,” he says, carefully. “But I don’t expect you to– in fact, don’t you have something protective you can cast on yourself? A Mage Armour or some other warding spell?”

“Well, yes, but I didn’t exactly expect to encounter any danger while I’m–”

“Prepare it tomorrow,” he demands. “Prepare it every day. You’re far too– too soft to go without.”

You bristle at that insult. It’s like being called pampered again, and you are getting tired of being treated like some child. “I am not soft. I’ve lived through enough lives to understand how to take care of myself. I don’t need you of all people coddling me.” He opens his mouth to speak, and you impulsively grab his hand on the table to stop him. “No. You know better than anyone that I have the memories of your past love. They faced dangers unlike those of any other and made it through. I shall do the same.”

He snaps at that, ripping his hand out of your grasp. “You shouldn’t speak of things you don’t know about.” His nostrils flare, and he may as well be breathing fire with the burning in his eyes. “Don’t you… dare speak as if you lived their life. You are soft and until you understand that, we won’t be getting anywhere.”

In a single spinning motion, he leaves you at the kitchen table once more. The familiar feeling of being left here is starting to wear on you, and you hang your head over your breakfast plate in defeat.

You’d been too rash, taken the words too personally. But he’d been too harsh, too set on seeing you as a babbling babe. So you sit at the table, finishing your breakfast in silence as you replay the conversation back in your head, over and over again. And somehow, despite all that transpired between you, your mind keeps pulling back to the feel of his hand in yours. How cool it had been, how right it had felt. You wonder if you’ll be able to hold it once more, perhaps under better circumstances.

You spend the rest of the day in a stupor. You try to read one of the books Astarion recommended, but find that the words swim before your eyes. You try to practice magic, but find none of your spells taking form. Eventually you decide to lay in bed and write down your thoughts in a personal journal entry– something you haven’t attempted in years.

I’ve spent almost seven days in Astarion’s house, learning to live with him. It’s been an odd time, but I think I understand who he is a bit better now. He gets upset whenever I ask about the past. I don’t know whether sating my curiosity is worth it anymore, but I also know that I can’t build a new relationship with him until we face the past. Or at least he does. I’m hoping that next week proves more productive, because time is running out. Maybe I should use magic to get through to him. Maybe I should try holding his hand again, that was nice that may be helpful. Whatever I do, I hope he doesn’t run away again. I’m starting to feel like a bloodhound.

As you lay down for your seventh reverie since you brokered your deal with Astarion, the ups and downs of your new, temporary life settle in. You realize that, while you know more about him, you haven’t made nearly as much progress as you were hoping for. The entire time you kept reminding yourself that these things take time– now that a quarter of your time was up, you were beginning to wonder if you would even have enough time to tackle it all.

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