Chapter Text
Seris had a routine, ritual-like, that they did every few days when they had the time to spare. When the blood needed more than a cool rag to come off their skin. When the weight of their actions hung heavy on their psyche. Today they needed it. The small group the sorcerer led had wondered around in that blasted swamp all day. Bug bites needed to be soothed and Seris could feel the slime in between their toes as soon as they removed the leather boots from their feet. The boots made a sickly wet thwap as they tossed them onto the grass near the riverbank.
They had lost something that day. A foolish idea now that they had time to think about it. They pulled their damp shirt over their head; it was sticky with sweat and filth. A hag can’t be trusted, obviously, but Seris was willing to try it. They were willing to try almost anything to get this tadpole out of their head. And, if it had worked, it would have been a solution to all their pressing problems. Unfortunately, was a gamble the half-drow lost. The peered down at their reflection in the moonlit water. The sight in their left eye was completely gone. A grey milky film covered their formerly silver iris. Visually it didn’t look too different from how they were before, their other eye was still bright ocean blue, like their father’s. But it would take them a few days to get used to the lack of vision. It wasn’t uncommon for outlanders to lose an eye in their travels, Seris had come across several half-blinded men on their journeys. They knew it wouldn’t end their adventuring career early.
Their mother always said that their eyes were lucky. And in a way they were. It was something they were able to trade away to in a pact with a devil. Something rare and valuable in exchange for a permanent change in their body. A flat, broad chest and wider jaw. Something they were able to change with magic temporarily from time to time but at a risk of their wild magic lashing back out at them in some unpredictable way. Not to mention how taxing it was to hold the spell in their lone travels. And all the devil had wanted was their eyes. A simple enough of a trade. The whites of their eyes became enchanted with infernal magic, turning them black. The devil would come to collect their eyes when Seris finally died. It was something the sorcerer didn’t regret, and they would do it again if they had the chance. A brief thought of worry had crossed their mind about the devil not being happy with a blinded eye, but if Seris was dead when the deal was collected then it wasn’t their problem. A wry smile crossed their lips. If they ended up turning into a mind flayer, that devil would have a lot more problems than a broken pact.
The half-drow shook their head to free themselves of their thoughts. Things that could be worried about another day. The blistering heat of the day had cooled down considerably once night fell. And the cool, running water of the river felt amazing against their skin. They loosened their hair from the low, loose bun they kept it in and tossed the leather tie onto the pile of clothes they had folded neatly on a dry part of the riverbank. They waded through the crisp water until they were waist deep to start to groom themself. Combing through the salt and pepper stands of hair with their fingers, trying to get any knots loose. Not the most ideal way to get their hair untangled, but they would have to hunt for a real brush or comb later. Perhaps someone at the Grove would be willing to trade one.
Seris lost most of their meager belongings when the illithids took them. Mostly replaceable things, creature comforts. Those aliens didn’t care for the clothes that Seris had on their back or the bonded ring that fit sung on their finger. It was the only thing that would have caused them heartbreak to lose. It was the only item they had left of their father’s. A bonded ring connected to one their mother always wore. Seris took a moment to inspect the ring to see if it needed any cleaning. It was a standard band with some magical engraving on both sides. Their mother’s had a gem set in it, but the pair were identical in every other way. The magic in it allowed each wearer to know that the other was alive by emitting a faint glow on the engraving. Seris had hoped that by wearing it, it would let their drow mother know that they were safe. Or at least alive, considering safety was never a guarantee as an adventurer. They have the ring an affectionate rub with their calloused thumb. Feeling all the grooves and hoping their mother could feel it on some level.
A twig snapping and a muffled expletive snapped Seris out of their musings. The sorcerer raised a steady hand and drew a deep breath, ready to shout out a spell to incinerate whoever was trying to sneak up on them. Any spell they cast wouldn’t be too powerful, considering how much magic they used during their previous encounter with the hag, but the other entity didn’t need to know that.
“Relax, Seris. It’s only me,” Astarion stepped out of the shadows.
The half-drow tipped their head back and let out a relieved breath.
“You startled me. My apologies, did you need something, Astarion?” They raised a pierced brow at him. Seris had found out that the high elf was a vampire a couple of weeks ago. And they had worked out a deal that Astarion could drink from them if Seris gave him permission. But it would be a little late notice for him for to ask for a sip now. Maybe the fight took more out of the rogue than Seris had realized.
“You think I would only approach you if I needed something? I’m hurt,” the white-haired man gave them a little pout before finding a rock to sit on near the river. Close enough that they could have a conversation without shouting, but not too close to make Seris uncomfortable. The magic user didn’t necessarily trust Astarion yet. But there was something about him that made Seris want to try and give him a chance to earn it. They all in the same boat, better to make allies than enemies at this point. And there was something about Astarion that made Seris want to trust him. Even if every logical voice in their head was telling them to stay far away.
“I wanted to make sure you weren’t ambushed while you had your little spa night. I was able to sneak up on you from your blind side far easier than I should have, you know,” he made a show of drawing a small knife from somewhere and started peeling an apple that he had stashed away on his person.
“Are you feeling unwell? It sounded like you admitted to caring about me.” Seris teased playfully. They decided to just go on with working through their routine, if Astarion wanted to keep them company while they did it then so be it. They worked hard obtain the body they wanted; the half-drow didn’t mind if he wanted a little peek. Seris had no shyness about being nude in front of others. And the vampire’s gaze on them now didn’t feel lecherous, merely observing.
“Well, darling, of course I care about my main food source. I would hate to have to go back to scrounging around in the wee hours of the night for some animal blood. Not when yours is so…delicious.” Seris felt their face flush at that. Astarion was practically on top of them every other night, they didn’t know how a few flirty words could feel more indecent than that. But Seris had suspected that he started to say things just to get a rise out of them.
If Astarion noticed their flush, then he mercifully didn’t say anything. He was occupying himself with peeling and coring the apple with his delicate hands. Hands that Seris found themselves staring at from time to time. Hands that deftly picked locks with such ease. Held a blade with such grace and precision. Seris dunked their head under the water to clear their head again. Astarion could be distracting, and they needed to get clean.
They continued with scrubbing themselves with their soapy rag while their traveling companion whittled at the apple. Seris felt themselves relax a bit, lowering their guard enough to just focus on getting clean. It was something that made them feel a little more like they were on their usual adventures and not one that would most likely end in their certain death. But maybe not, they had been in worst situations before, right? And they had survived. They gently washed their face with their fingers and cleaned their eyes of the black shadow that had darkened them. They felt the tension releasing from their shoulders with every swipe. Their head emptying to the repetitive action. The only thing that could have been better would be in the water was hot. But the cold had a similar grounding effect to them.
Astarion was already clean and ready for his nightly trance; face and clothes pristine of any of the day’s transgressions. He kept himself busy with the apple in his hands as he glanced up at the half-drow’s methodical washing. He could tell it was a learned habit, they were almost like a machine with how precise each action was. And he wouldn’t say he was worried about Seris per se. But he didn’t want anything unfortunate to happen to them while their guard was down.
Out of everyone in the camp, the sorcerer was the only one who had accepted his condition with minimal questions asked. And when Astarion didn’t want to answer then that was okay, they just nodded their head and bared their pretty neck for him to drink. It was baffling to him, the survival skills Seris had showed at least a decade or more of adventuring experience. But the way they carried themselves was too open. They were too trusting, hells, he had greeted them with a knife to their throat and they brushed it off and welcomed him to their cause with a dashing smile. Astarion figured it was because they were still young, especially for a half-drow. Their human honesty shone through in their actions a lot, until it didn’t. Astarion had noticed that Seris could lie convincingly from time to time. It was usually to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, but when it wasn’t there was something about it that he found alluring in a way.
Seris had lied effortlessly to the Gur vampire hunter in the swamp that day. They had even traded off some of their less desirable wares for his coin. Not that Astarion would have minded killing him right then and there to be safe, but he knew that would probably tip Cazador off as to his general location. The seemingly genuine look of surprise at there being a “dangerous” vampire spawn on the loose, all the while they had a prominent bite mark peeking up under the collar of their robe.
And the sorcerer wasn’t bad to look at either, he thought. Enjoying the view of them rinsing themselves clean of the swamp muck and blood. They had a lithe form, like Astarion’s own. He could see their toned arms and back flex as they scrubbed themselves clean. But they had more muscle overall, possibly gained from years of carrying too much weight in their camp bag. The little pack rat they were. Astarion found it charming.
The vampire spawn decided that he wanted to seduce Seris, get them wrapped around his finger and convince them to help him rid himself of Cazador’s grip once and for all. The sorcerer seemed agreeable to take on other tasks from others and he could tell they hadn’t taken up a lover at camp yet. Astarion would just have to figure out what they responded best to. Obviously, they had some moral differences, but he could use that to his advantage. Play on their predisposition to help others for the sake of it. The only question would be if the half-drow was powerful enough for it to be worth Astarion’s while. They’ve been competent in battle thus far, and them being touched by wild magic has proven interesting to say the least. There’s potential there, he could have Seris help him and then ditch camp as soon as he’s free of the tadpoles, if not sooner. It shouldn’t be more than a few more months of playing nice, Astarion could do that. Something in his heart lurched at the idea of having to use his body to survive again. After two hundred years, what’s a couple more months of it? For complete freedom he would do anything to never have to feel like that ever again.
In his musings he had finished dissecting the apple and had popped a piece in his mouth absentmindedly. It tasted like ash, but it was more for show than anything. He placed the rest of the apple down next to Seris’s belongings on a little handkerchief. Seris had finished cleaning themselves and was drying themselves off on the shore. Dosing their hands in some perfumed oil before running it through their hair and over their neck. A curious habit, like one of Astarion’s own. He maintained it to hide any lingering smell of death that clung to him as it did to most undead creatures. Seris’s concoction was different, lavender and rose, with a hint of sage. He tasted it on their skin the second time he drank from them. The rogue had thought it was to his benefit but perhaps it was just a habit.
“Darling, did you expect some company tonight?”
Seris rolled their eyes as they pulled their sleep shirt over themselves and shook their head.
“It’s to help me sleep, mostly. The lavender and sage oil is supposed to have relaxation properties and,” they paused for a moment deciding if they wanted to share this bit of themselves with him, “My mother always wore rose oil on her adventures; I miss her very much,” their voice cracked. “If I make it through all this, I want to find her. I didn’t leave home on good terms, and I need to fix that.”
Astarion’s eyes widened at that, with the proper way Seris carried themselves, he couldn’t imagine them doing something bad enough to get exiled from a Seldarine drow encampment. And although he was curious, he knew they weren’t close enough for him to pry further, at least not yet. This sorcerer had more going on in that busy little head of theirs than he had expected. The tadpole had connected their minds briefly during one of his feedings and there was nothing going on in there, so Astarion assumed that was a default state of theirs but perhaps not.
“Well, I think it’s too early to say, but I’m sure you’ll find your way into their good graces once we get this tadpole situation handled.” Astarion needed them focused. “Now if you’re all squeaky clean for the night, I think we should probably get back to camp. I’m tired and making sure you didn’t get attacked by any creatures of the night was my good deed for the tenday.”
“Wait, one more thing, and be honest. How does it look?”
Seris sat on their kneeled down in front of the vampire, so they were on the same level. Both eyes open looking forward at him, not expectantly, but curiously.
Astarion studied them for a few moments, their pale grey skin practically glowed violet in the moonlight. Their eyes didn’t look too different from before, their blinded eye was a similar color before the hag tinkered with it. This was the first time he really studied them without their eye paint on. Seris’s eyes looked rounder and bigger without it. There was a gentleness in them that Astarion almost wanted to shy away from. One he wasn’t used to.
“Hmm, I think it adds a little edge to your look. You still are as dashing as ever, if that was your concern,” he said raising an arched brow. He kept finding himself staring at their full lips, so he refocused his crimson gaze on their eyebrow piercing.
“Charming as ever,” they gave him a small smile before standing. Seris held out a hand to help Astarion up, and to their surprise he took it. His soft hand firming gripping their rougher one before leveraging himself up to stand too close into Seris’s personal space. They could feel his soft, sweet exhale on their cheeks as he stood to his full height. The sorcerer didn’t back away to preserve the space between them either, as Astarion had assumed they would. He wanted to test their reaction to him slowly invading their space more and more. Seris had just turned their head to the side in mild confusion for a moment. Letting the air between them hang before letting out a slight chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” His voice was like heavy silk. Seris was trying to decipher the look in Astarion’s eyes. His gaze was seductive in some way, but there was a lack of something else. His eyes themselves were vacant.
“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were trying to flirt with me.” They broke away from the closeness first. Stepping to the side to reach down for their belongings and the handkerchief full of apple.
“Who’s to say that I’m not?” Astarion whined and folded his arms across his chest in mild annoyance.
“Your eyes are more expressive than you realize, Astarion.” Their tone wasn’t accusing but soft and gentle. A simple stating of fact. Seris had mused that the spawn was simply pushing their buttons on some level once again. But they had unintentionally scratched at something a little too deep in him.
Astarion was thrown off guard at that. He hadn’t seen his own eyes hundreds of years. Was that something he had forgotten or just never realized? His eyes told people stories he didn’t want told. Was he that transparent in his actions? No, he couldn’t have been. He wouldn’t have survived for as long as he did if he was. Eyes filled with disgust and hatred towards the people he had to bring into bed. Was he just that open to Seris? Did he want to be? No, he shoved that all down. Now was not the time for that. He doesn’t get to have that. He couldn’t afford to think about that, especially not when he’s made it this far.
“You should be careful about looking into a vampire’s eyes for too long, darling. You could get hypnotized,” his voice was slightly stilted, but he got his point across. Like an unfriendly cat hissing at being handled incorrectly. Seris touched a nerve as unintended as it was. They held out the bundle of apples to him as a peace offering and he shook his head.
“Keep them, a small thank you for not selling me out to the Gur when you had the chance,” he turned and started stalking back towards camp.
Astarion stayed quiet the rest of the walk back, and Seris knew they said something that hurt more than just his frivolous sensibilities. And they knew they would have to find some way to atone for that. But there was time for the half-drow to figure a suitable apology, at least they hoped there was.