Nyx & Astarion POVs

I'm pissed off, Nyx thought while turning the page more energetically than she should. Even after her extended meditations.

Pissed off at the curse and what it did to Tav, she turned another page. Pissed off at the creatures. But most of all pissed off at myself for being so glaringly unprepared. Thus, she decided to do something about it.

After Gale, Wyll and Shadowheart had setup the perimeter wards the group was able to camp proper. They had organized rotations for keeping watch, since the protections alone couldn't stop the effects of the curse completely, or its denizens. However, no one had formally fallen into the rotation, since they were all keeping watch to some degree - none of them had settled enough to attempt sleep.

Nyx had her alchemical kits propped up on a flat rock, she sat before it on a pillow, paging through one of her notebooks. A tall stack of notebooks next to her. She had taken to brewing potions; any-and-all she decided would be useful in an awful place like this. Starting with the anti-anaemia potion; the first batch she promptly delivered to Tav's tent. Halsin and Gale were taking turns to check in on Tav. Halsin had lifted the curse from her mind, and she slept soundly afterward. Halsin received the potion with grace, seated outside Tav's tent, but it wasn't required anymore.

Nyx debated with herself whether it made any sense to give some of the anti-anaemia potions to Astarion. Since vampires feed on the life force extracted from the blood, not the blood per se - but she left some on the display by his tent in any case, clearly labelled.

Next on her list of potions were to increase mental fortitude, physical fortitude and night vision. After that it'll be every nasty poison, she had a recipe for, to coat her knives. She left a selection of bottles at Astarion's tent as well. Similar to traps, she doesn't approve of poison use, but these creatures have no qualms using underhanded tactics and they were certainly not going to 'fight fair' either.

After some time, Gale mused behind her, "That certainly puts a new meaning to 'brewing up a storm'."

Nyx set aside her latest batch, her rocky workbench and the surrounding floor already crowded with bottles. She gave him a smile and gestured around her, "Help yourself. I've hoarded so many bottles and ingredients I could supply an army."

Gale laughed, "And an army's supply is likely what we'll need."

She watched amused as Gale perused her wares. Her foul mood had lifted, and she was feeling more in control - the extent of which will need to be tested along with the 'in-event-of' coverage of her potions. A few bottles made their way back into her own pack and she cleaned up her station. Astarion stalked past, tension lining his shoulders, and a lingering scowl on his face.

He had set out with Lae'zel and Wyll to scout the area and familiarize themselves with 'threats'. Nyx assumed he was more concerned with getting the lay of his new hunting grounds. Her quick scan showed Lae'zel and Wyll at ease near the campfire and pleased with their survey. Nyx left Gale to his browsing.

--- --- ---

Astarion had picked up their scent in the distance. He was downwind and he could make out a whole pack of them.

What did Nyx call it, a death pack?

He scowled again when he reached his tent, setting eyes on the collection of potions on the table. The scowl deepened into a frown, What is Gale playing at?

He picked up the first and read the label, Anti-anaemia? Is this Gale's version of a joke? It’s a decidedly poor prank at that.

Then he recognized the handwriting, and his eyes scanned the others, Various poisons, paralytics and combinations. He picked up the potion with the familiar white liquid, though with a novel blue tinge, Her new dual anti-paralytic and poison antidote.

And as if to summon her, her footfalls stopped behind him and the scent of spring forests chased away the remainder of the death pack's.

He lilted, not turning, "Couldn't sleep, my sweet?"

She informed him plainly, "No, not yet, and I was foul company too." He chuckled and turned to her, she continued smiling warmly, "Hence the apothecary", gesturing at the bottles.

He grinned, "Hmm, but this apothecary has a penchant for serving death too."

She snorted, "All good healers make good poisoners, one tends to supplement the other."

"Well, my sweet, I think that you have more than a passing talent for poison. Your drow heritage perhaps?"

She considered that for a moment more seriously that he intended. She nodded once and replied, "You may be onto something. How did your hunt go?", and she probed cautiously, "Slim pickings?"

"Surprisingly not as bad as one would expect. Majority of the animals are corrupted, it's true, but there are a few that slipped the net."

Her eyebrows rose and she blinked impressed, "You can smell the curse?"

"Yes, my sweet, but not in the way you think. I can smell its corruption in the blood of living creatures. It's, unpleasant to say the least. We did happen upon a frequently used patrol route, complete with untainted goblins and drow. So, there is opportunity yet.", and he gave her a fanged smile.

She snorted and replied stating earnestly, "You'll let me know when that is not the case. If you need help?", he gave her a quizzical eyebrow at the 'help' part and she added, "Someone to watch your back."

His lips split into a sly grin, and he lulled, "Oh, my little huntress. We should consider hunting together regardless. It'll be fun."

He indulged himself in roving his eyes down her body, I do so enjoy when you're covered in the blood of our quarry.

She crossed her arms and gave him a flat look, but amusement shone in her eyes, "I'm going to assume that means you'll let me know either way, fun or no. But more so when trouble comes knocking."

His grin dropped for a moment when remembered the death pack, but she had seen him falter. He didn't want to talk about it, instead he was searching for something else to distract her with.

She smiled again and made a peculiar offer, "If you need some company, I'll be in my tent."

He tensed. It's not like he wasn't used to being propositioned, but it was rather out of character for her, especially after the night they had - unless he didn't know her as well as he thought. Or her true colours were finally showing. He wasn't prepared for any of it.

She noticed this too, his hesitation at the invitation, but before he could remediate the deteriorating situation she added, "Astarion, I meant that in a literal sense. Bring a book and simply read in my company. We don't need to talk or do anything else for that matter."

He blinked at her and managed a stiff, "Thank you."

She smirked at him more amused than she ought to be, then bid him good night.

Weak and pathetic, he heard Cazador's voice in his head when he watched he go. But the cutting edge of the words have become blunt, and something stirred in his chest again. The stirring was stronger than the fading chastising reprimands. His anxiety evaporated. She had unknowingly granted him reprieve once more. He didn't know what to make of it, or her, and tried to distract himself in his own tent.

It would be so easy for her to simply take whatever she wanted from me. Like all the others had before. Yet even now she doesn't. Why?

Eventually, his feet followed his nose, and he found himself in front of her tent. He hesitated again, staring at the light spilling out of the slit and onto his shoes wondering what in the hells he was doing here.

Little huntress, you're the trouble knocking at my door.

A loud audible gasp made his head snap to find Gale gawking at him in disbelief a few tents away. Gale must have swallowed his tongue. A theatrical sigh escaped Astarion, It is officially a scandal. Might as well seal it.

Astarion flashed Gale a wicked grin and stepped into her tent. The parting expression on Gale's face was priceless.

--- --- ---

He notified her as he entered, "Nyx, my sweet, I'm afraid that your reputation has been irrevocably sullied."

Nyx snorted, "Oh?", but he didn't answer, and she looked up from her desk. He was scanning her tent, she smiled to herself at the mild surprise on his face.

"You've been holding out on me again, little huntress."

She gave him a flat look, "I recall inviting you when it was appropriate to do so. I don't make a habit of inviting every random person I meet, you know."

He chuckled wryly looking around.

She provided, "A talented artificer in Candlekeep. Cost an arm and a leg, but it was well worth the investment.", she stowed away her notes and stood from her floor desk, stowing it away too by lifting it up and sliding it into the small cupboard next to her bedroll.

Her tent was over twice the size inside than it was on the outside. The limited number of very specific furniture pieces inside were also from the same artificer. Cleverly arranged and multi-purpose, it catered to all her needs. When the time came, she merely had to roll up the tent and stuff it into her pack - no fuss, no mess. And things remained exactly as she left them when she would setup again. She gestured for him to make himself comfortable in her small 'living nook'.

She settled next to him, quickly securing a pillow before he hogged them all. He grinned at her knowingly and lilted, "Very practical. Careful, or you might not be rid of me."

She grinned back and prompted, "What was this about 'my reputation' - the one I didn't even know I had?"

He lulled suggestively and gestured, "I've been spotted, by no other than Gale, snatching away your innocence tonight."

She burst out laughing into the pillow and he smirked delighted. She said, "If he truly hadn't noticed anything by now then he is more dense than I thought."

"That obvious, am I?"

"Heavens forbid, no. Your reputation remains firmly intact."

They lounged in comfortable silence for a while.

He shifted. Something was on his mind. She didn't want to pry. Several things past behind his ruby gaze and he finally spoke, stating tentatively, "I am rather grateful you fought so hard for both your sakes tonight."

Her smile warmed and he asked, "Where do you find it?"

Confusion furrowed her brow, and he added, "The will to keep on fighting like that?"

Astarion waited patiently for her considered response, and she said, "I am, and have been tired of fighting, of trying. To keep going, but I think lately, I've been coming out of my own personal winter. Maybe that is the source of my newfound will too."

It was his turn to frown, and she continued, "People are like the seasons. We have our own cycles of feast and famine, ebb and flow. Our spring and summers filled with joy, hope and abundance. The winters filled with rest and introspection. Sometimes sadness or conflict."

His lips quirked and she elaborated further, "Like the seasons, some summers are lusher and some of the winters are harsher."

She pointedly looked at him and said sincerely, "Your winter had been unnaturally long and unjustly cruel. I admire your strength to have fought through it without losing yourself entirely."

He stared incredulously, mouth slightly ajar. She made sure he noticed her wrapping her fingers around the back of his hand. He didn't recoil at her touch, and she stated, "I firmly believe your spring and summers are on the horizon. We will make sure of it, Bellinor, and I hope to be present to witness the growth that comes after." She finished by giving his hand a small squeeze and released him.

--- --- ---

Astarion snatched her hand back, lifting her fingers to his mouth. He breathed in, filling his senses with her, brushing his lips over her knuckles, trying to think of something to say. There was no expectation in her expression, only a warm smile.

What could I say? What could I possibly say?

He knew how to seduce and lie.

It was easy.

Playing to people's petty vanities using sweet meaningless little words, capturing so many timid fleeting hearts. Yet, her convictions left him without any, only the stirring in his chest that expanded tenfold. Instead, he expressed his gratitude the only other way he knew how. He kissed her hand then moved to her lips. Kissing her deeply, drawing her to him, hoping that with it, she would understand his own admiration for her. She wrapped her arms around him, and he found meaning in her reply. Blissfully, none of his shades were present to rip it away from him again. He pulled away nonetheless, not wanting to entice them to do so, preserving what he had been given.

A gift. Hidden away from the world. R'hunni'vah.

She gave him a curious smile and another quick kiss. She rose and said onto him, "I'm going to try getting some rest. You're welcome to join when you're ready."

He propped himself up against the pillows and watched her undress. Once again, she had no hidden agenda, merely went about her nightly routine. His eyes lingered on her tattoos, especially the phoenix wrapped around her leg. He briefly entertained the notion of running his tongue along the feathers, specifically toward the inside of her thigh.

Not tonight.

He was content in her company. She finished and eyed the lantern overhead, smiled at him one last time, snuffing the light in a whispered, "Umbra."

The rate of her breathing changed when she fell into slumber while he listened to the night.

These cursed lands have a haunting ambience to them. An unsettling music.

Deep knocks and creaking moans, almost as though the land itself strained against the curse. The animal noises were also distorted. Warbled shrieks of fear and pain. Fortunately, it felt distant now.

Her tent was quieter than his, muffling some of the outside world. If he tried, he could forget about it. He wanted to forget about it. His gaze drifted to her sleeping form and his body moved of its own accord again. Removing his shirt and shoes, he gently slipped in behind her. She roused and hazily shifted to accommodate his arms wrapping around her midsection. Her warmth was soothing against his chest. She fell asleep again and he waited until she had warmed him up thoroughly. Then he slid his hands beneath her loose clothing to feel her skin. He nuzzled his nose into the nape of her neck and sighed.

This is nice.

---

The Shadowcursed lands were surprisingly lighter during the day, if only by a smidge. The gloom had gradually lightened in her tent. He didn't know how much time had passed or what time it was. He did care quite frankly.

It is all so very... domestic. Tangled up with her, in her tent, in her bedroll.

Astarion mentally scoffed at himself, yet grinned into her shoulder. Her cheek next to his, her arms held to her chest between them and their legs tangled together. He never thought he'd enjoy such a simplistic and dull activity. And here he was, not really wanting to do anything else.

Movement caught his eye, and his gaze met Clive's.

His curled lip became a snarl as Clive's leering smile spread. Nyx woke and he could feel her lashes blink against his skin, but she remained still.

Clive broke the silence, grumbling, "Finally caught ye red handed in the cookie jar."

Astarion scoffed in disgust and Nyx snickered softly into his chest. Astarion replied, "You'll have to work on your euphemisms, backpack."

"Har!"

Nyx quipped smiling up at Astarion, "He'd never spared any of my feelings and he's not one for flowery words either."

"Aye. Now, all I ask is that ye two lovebird have some decency and warn me - or better yet, remove me from the premises when ye feel like sharing those cookies."

Nyx gasped annoyed, "By the Abyss Clive. That's low, even for you", and cringed apologetically at Astarion.

"HAR!"

Astarion smirked slyly, "I wholeheartedly agree with the removal part.", and he slid out of the bedroll stalking toward Clive and seized him by the straps. Promptly seeing him out personally. While he escorted Clive to his tent, Clive grumbled in no uncertain terms, "Ye better treat Nyx proper, bloodsucker, lest ye want me to send yer limbs to the astral plane when yer least expect it. Starting with yer fifth one. Or is that too subtle of an euphemism fer ye?"

A smile quirked Astarion lips and he answered, "You have my word."

He harrumphed, "I trust Nyx's judgement, doesn't mean I trust ye."

"The feeling is mutual, I assure you."

"Har!"

--- --- ---

Nyx snorted at Astarion's receding form through the tent flap while Clive noisily demanded to be unhanded by the 'lover boy'. She ran a hand over her face, Well, the whole camp has been informed that my reputation has been irrevocably sullied, and snickered.

Astarion returned with a smug look on his face, and she asked, "What did you do with him?"

"Easy, tossed him into my tent. Let him insult my décor while I'm not there."

She laughed and watched him dress this time. Appraising his sculpted body, pouting when he pulled on his shirt. He gave her wink.

She rose and walked over to him, "Good morning", and gave him a peck.

He lilted, a lazy hand touching his chest, "Careful, little huntress. I might come to like this, and you won't be rid of me."

Her smoulder replied, "Oh? I don't mind waking up to you shirtless."

He flashed her his signature smile and returned the peck, albeit a lingering one, "Good morning, R'hunni'vah."