In The Eyes of Destiny (D&D 5e Fic One Shots)

Balance

Several days had passed since he was welcomed into the home of the nation's warlord, and given room and board due to the actions of a Lady of the Court - Ashtai. The words "I am a Kalashtar!" echoed in his mind and he, from that pivotal moment, felt a deep yearning to figure out what exactly that was.

The man paced back and forth in his room, open books scattered over every surface, tossed aside in frustration at the unfinished pages before picking up another and coming to the same end. Contradictions. Vague passages with dumbed down explanations unlike anything he had ever experienced. He needed to know what - and who - he was dealing with.

 The two are one, but separate.

The passage rang in his head, much like the way a dinner bell sounds to the ears of the hungry.

"It makes no sense," he sighed, "And even if it did, it only raises more questions than answers. Do I address both of them at once? Have I been rude to one by not acknowledging the other? Gah..." 

He ran his hands through his white hair, not unlike her own, and finally resting it on the tip of one of his horns, "This is too much to leave to chance.I must know, and I think I know how I'm going to find out." 

He slams the books shut, one by one, leaving a large pile to return to the library in the morning. Walking over to the small mess station in his room, he lit a fire and put a pot over it. Sitting in front of it, he focused his mind on his surroundings.

"Marthac reoli hartinack...".

The incantation's effects took place almost instantly, turning the small room into one that would be more common and comfortable in his home land. Old world decor masterfully recreated out of what was once there. Was still there. Just hidden away.

After preparing a simple dish, one his mother had taught him before he went to study at the Bardic College, he made his way off to find Ashtai. Smiling down at his creation, he took in the meal's simplicity as it sat in the middle of his table. Braised rib over mashed potatoes with a brown beef sauce. Simple, but comforting. Meant to go straight to the heart.

It took a few tries, but he found his way. Standing outside her closed door, he almost stopped himself from knocking. What if she was busy? What if she wasn't even here?

I'm here, Baldric. You can come in.

The words came from in his head, but sounded just like her. At that moment, he knew this was just the beginning.

Opening the door, he was met with the gentle scent of lavender. It filled his senses, and for a moment he forgot where he was standing. His eyes found the small yet curvaceous form of the woman he seeked. She was sitting on her bed, book in hand. 

Other than her, there was just so much to take in at once, his eyes did not know where to rest. The royal purple and white silks that covered the place in which she lounged? The tapestries on the wall that bore an insignia he had never seen? The thousands of books that lined her walls?

But no matter where his eyes wandered, they always fell back on her, a knowing smile dancing on her lips. It was hard not to be inexplicably drawn to her, especially for a man of his interests. She would have been bare if it were not for the soft pink chemise she wore. The tops of her shoulders and neck bared in the firelight, her long legs covered in sigils and words in a language he couldn't quite make out. 

"Ashtai," he began, clearing his throat as his vision finally rested just above her head, focusing on the messy bun of braids there. 

He felt a little awkward standing in a noblewoman's door, but managed to ask, "Would you mind helping me with a problem?"