FREEDOM | Astarion

| act one: 1 |

A glacial and unsympathetic breeze whisked through the capacious Chapel Ruins, it crawled up your skin where goosebumps raised beneath your thin cotton shirt. This would not have been your first choice of setting camp, but you and your companions were weary. These decrepit stone walls were spooky though, that and the reanimated skeleton which stood in the adjacent room by his coffin. Withers had promised you a myriad of services should they be required, only you were as suspicious of the collection of bones as any other in this hall.

By the fire was the wizard, too friendly to be as honest as he vowed, though he appeared harmless enough on the surface you did not require the insight of the parasite lodged behind your eye to know he was powerful. Power was dangerous, it drove the most noble of men greedy, it corrupted the greatest minds and was the downfall of even the kindest and most troubled. You had seen that play in all of its tragic acts many times in battle, you could not recall how many leaders and Captains you had been led by for they all succumbed eventually. Perhaps the mindflayers had saved you instead, if you could rid yourself of their parasite, you could start again; humble, comfortable, not in wanton for more. The grass was never greener on the other side, you would have to be wary around the humbly charming man.

Sifting through what little they still possessed after their time on the Nautiloid, you could see the cleric who had a worry line creased across her pink mouth. There was a look of despair already in the bright of her sharp eyes, you could only assume that although hopeless it seemed she was determined to find a healer. It may also be that she was anxious to be in the company of the githyanki whom you had rescued earlier that day. From the capture of two tieflings with an attitude that was astoundingly greater than the average troll's.  Lae'zel had been about as grateful as you had expected, she was too focused on the issue of the tadpoles. Her hatred for the illithid appeared to cause her greater frustration at the situation than any of your other newly-found companions. From the way she would mutter under her breath any time you were not talking about finding a healer, to the extent of reminding you all of the situation you would find yourselves in if you did transform. 

That brought you to the pale elf, the hint of an ubiquitous smirk at the corners of his lips from where he was stood under the canopy of a makeshift 'tent'. It was one large canvas sheet draped over what you could see to be relatively sturdy logs, it looked as if he had also used the destroyed stone column by the hall's threshold to pin the sheet up in its left corner. You trusted him the least, arguably his own doing from when he had tackled you to the ground just by the crash site and brought the point of one of his long daggers. You could still remember the flash of your own reflection in its steel, he had  kept them in remarkable condition, similarly to how he presented himself. You could only wonder how often he had needed to clean the blood from its sharp edge to polish it so well, to hide its past forbidden crimes. 

Your eyes were threatening to roll from watching him this long, that and you were beginning to feel the need to itch them as a drowsy force pushed upon you. Only the chill of the drafty hall was keeping you awake, that and the occasional suprising pop of the campfire. You decided to head for your bedroll on the other end of the fire, only as you passed the wizard he startled you, 

"Go to hell." 

Curious to his uncharacteristic command, the way the words melted into a tone of exhaustion, you stopped and studied the wizard's face, finding that he was enamoured in the flames. 

"Something on your mind?"

"Ha!" He said, lamely, "Something trivial. That everyday expression: 'go to hell', so trivial that its almost meaningless."

"I suppose... If it is my place to suggest though, that you do not open with it regularly with mere acquaintances." 

Gale smiled, and looked away from the flames to you as if he was glad, as if he had been right about you.