Fourth Wall

Seven: A Saint or Whatever

A little while later, Chloe's party had made camp. No one was happy about the slow progress they'd made that day, but Chloe's feet were blistered and sore. The game had far more walking than she'd ever realized when she was just a player. Scratch had stuck close to her heels the entire way.

When she had settled in her spot next to the fire and taken off her shoes, Shadowheart had noticed the redness of her feet and the blisters forming on her toes and heels. She silently tossed Chloe a little red vial. Chloe recognized it as a healing potion.

Curious, she unstoppered the cork and took a swig.

"Agh! That's fucking rancid!" She shouted as she grimaced, forcing the liquid to stay down despite the awful taste. Shadowheart laughed, a sound Chloe wasn't very familiar with. She would've been shocked silent had her tastebuds not just been assaulted. "Do they always taste like that?"

"Like what?" Shadowheart giggled.

"Like an ashtray that's been left in the rain for two weeks!" Chloe shouted dramatically, earning her another fit of giggles from Shadowheart. Chloe was surprised, she didn't take Shadowheart for the type to find much humor in the world.

"That bad?" Shadowheart asked, her grin stretching across her face. Chloe was glad to see a glimpse of Shadowheart's personality. Chloe smacked her lips, trying to dispel the evil flavor, but the sores on her toes and heels were miraculously closing up. She wiggled her toes tentatively as the wounds healed.

"Small price to pay, I suppose." She sighed, offering the vial back to Shadowheart. The cleric waved her hand.

"You keep it, you might need it again tomorrow. You'll want to wrap your feet tomorrow, too." She tossed over her shoulder as she hunkered down beneath her blanket on her own bed roll. The others were still milling about. Wyll went off to collect some more firewood, Lae'zel was across the way sharpening her weapon's blade. Astarion sat hunched over a book with a single sputtering candle flame to illuminate the pages.

Chloe watched him for a moment. She wondered what he was reading. He hadn't struck her as a scholarly type, and she was curious. On bare, silent feet she tiptoed to where he sat. He was sitting on a blanket, as if having a nighttime picnic. He either didn't hear her approach or didn't care enough to look up. His hair was mussed from his hands working through it, and his white tunic was undone, revealing his toned chest. Her mouth went dry.

She crouched down next to him, peering at the book he held in his hand.

"Do you enjoy reading poetry?" She asked as she read the spine of the poetry book in his grasp. Astarion looked up at her in surprise, having not expected her so close.

"Depends upon the poetry," he responded dryly, though his eyes betrayed a certain softness when they beheld Chloe.

"Whose is this?" She asked, gesturing to the book. He glanced at it.

"Oh, it's technically mine." He said, and then looked back down. "I...Well, I was occupied for the last two hundred years. When those mindflayers took me aboard their ship, I was conveniently lost. But in that time, all I could do was write poems in my head. That was how I would pass the days, how I would cope with the things he made me do..." Astarion trailed off, disgust clouding his features. "Eventually I wrote them down, mostly in the margins of this book that I stole from the Szarr family library."

Chloe wanted to ask more about his past, but she didn't want to push him.

"What did you write poems about?" She asked quietly, thinking it a safer question than, "Who is 'he' and what did he do to you?"

Astarion blew a breath out of his nose, an almost-chuckle.

"Most of them were about the sun, I think. I hadn't seen it in two centuries before we crashed. Hadn't felt its warmth on my skin." His eyes glazed over slightly before he shook himself, snapping his poetry book closed. "Sometimes I would write poems to someone who didn't exist." He continued, his voice low and soft. "I would write poems about how they would come to save me. That we would destroy him side by side." Chloe watched his hand ball into a fist. Her heart ached for him.

"No one ever came." He finished sadly, and Chloe had to bite down on her lip to avoid tearing up.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, because it was all she could think to offer. Astarion was silent. "What would you write poems about now?" Chloe inquired curiously, both to shift the topic away from the sudden discomfort and because she was truly curious. Astarion's ruby eyes met hers then, and she could see him mentally brushing away his melancholy as he considered her question.

"Hmm, well I could always write poetry inspired by your beauty," he purred conspiratorially, and Chloe rolled her eyes.

"'My' beauty," she scoffed before she could help herself. Astarion narrowed his eyes at her.

"You don't think you're beautiful?" He asked suspiciously. Chloe shrugged.

"This body and face? Yeah, of course. I spent like an hour crafting it. This avatar is absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. I mean, horns?? Hell yeah, dude." She laughed as her hand absently hovered over the tiefling horns sprouting from her forehead. "But...it's not me. I don't look like this. Trust me, the way I actually look would not inspire any poetry." Chloe laughed darkly. Astarion's expression was serious.

"It doesn't matter," he said simply. "You have this light in your eyes, you know. You didn't have it before," he went on as Chloe sat riveted, shocked that he would say anything so nice. "That spark, it's not something that's a part of the avatar, it's a part of you. I'm sure you'll take it with you when you go." Chloe's eyebrows furrowed at the sudden change in his tone.

"Go?" She repeated dumbly. Astarion rolled his neck as if to stretch out the tension, and Chloe's eyes strayed to the puncture scars on his beautiful pale neck.

"Yes, go. I've been thinking about your predicament. It doesn't really seem likely that you'll stay here forever, does it, pet?" He asked rhetorically. Chloe felt her cheeks burn at the affectionate name, but her mind was still whirling over what he'd said.

"I suppose you're right. I have to finish the game at some point..."

"'Finish the game,' precisely." Astarion confirmed, nodding sadly. "You will be gone as suddenly as you were here."

"What about you?" She asked, her throat tight. He'd become so real to her in such a short amount of time. "Surely you have big plans after we've removed the tadpoles?" She asked hopefully. He chuckled darkly.

"Oh, darling, I have plenty of plans. I'm not worried about myself. But I suppose I will miss the way you blush every time I say something even remotely flirtatious." She blushed as if on cue, and Astarion laughed, though his smile didn't reach his eyes. She shook herself fiercely.

"Let's not focus on goodbye right now. I've only just gotten here. Astarion, listen..." she began, and his crimson eyes fell lazily on hers.

"I...I know you're not exactly a saint, or whatever..." Chloe struggled to form words. "I--..." She huffed, becoming frustrated with herself.

Astarion grinned at her discomfort.

"What, precious? You want me to team up with your little friends and learn a valuable lesson about love and forgiveness or something?" He teased coldly. Chloe shook her head.

"No. I want to see you destroy him." She leveled, not breaking eye contact as she registered the shock on Astarion's face at her words. "Fuck forgiveness. Two hundred years is too long. I hope you make him wish he was never born."

Astarion's expression changed. From shock to awe, to a kind of pride, and finally a mischievous smile.

"That's...actually very sweet, darling. Thank you." He said, sounding genuinely touched. Chloe smiled.

"No need. If there's anything I can do to help you make him suffer, just let me know, huh?" She winked, and Astarion couldn't help but smile. He paused a moment, a wicked grin lighting up his features.

"Actually... Now that you mention it, I believe there is something you could do for me..."