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Astarions aware he should be asleep but, he's wide awake. Hes free. After two hundred some odd years. Best of all Cazadors dead. Yet, he can’t sleep. He’s restless. Like some adrenaline ringing in his ears won’t go away. Astraion shakes his covers off him sighing. If he is doomed to restlessness, at least make use of it.
He huffed, slipping back on his shoes as he headed towards the Inn room doors. Then his ear twitched, the sound of tiny, tiny hiccups. He used to go after these kinds of people. People who were alone, venerable, and looking for comfort. But every single one of the people in this room, safe for Dame Aalyin and Isobel, as they were just traveling with them because Saint had somehow managed to convince them to but, everyone else in this room was an ally. Even some of them had saved him from Cazador. Astarion paused for a moment, hand on the door. He wasn’t the best person to talk emotions to, probably one of the worst in the camp. Maybe he just wake someone else up? But most were heavily exhausted from their fight. With an internal sigh, He shook off the idea of leaving and let his ears guide him.
Astarion stopped as he stood in the archway in the main bedroom. The moon casted a silver light over the room. Like a child playing hide n seek, Saint was curled into a ball, back turned from the world. He watched as its chest stuttered as it tried to breathe normally. The oh-so-noble hero, cowering like a child left a bitter taste in his mouth. Part of his mind told him to turn around and leave but a bigger part told him he had a debt to repay. It saved his life, it would be damned of him to at least not lend a hand. He was going to have to sneak over there to do it though, he wasn't about to call to it like a cat. He took his time cautiously watching every floorboard, making sure it wouldn’t creak.
It felt weird, standing above it. Astarion reached out. The moment his hand was placed on its upper arm, it jumped and halfway scrambled up the wall. It looked over him, analyzing him like some fight was about to start. Yet, the tear marks down its face read of something else, a fight or flight response. Usually, he knew how to take over in both of those instances but he waited. The only sound in the room was the heaving of Saint’s chest as it struggled to breathe.
It took what felt like an eternity but with shaking hands, Saint finally signed, “Oh hey, you're up. Why are you awake at these hours?”
Astarion rolled his eyes, “I just got my freedom after wanting it for two hundred years. What are you doing awake and-” He paused, eyes narrowing, “crying?”
Saint waved him off, forcing a smile that looked borderline painful, “I’m fine don’t worry about me, just working through some stuff. But seriously how are you doing?”
Astarion deadpanned, crossing his arms and shifting his weight to one foot before signing, “You are deflecting.” He felt like he was a parent scolding a child in the weirdest way possible.
Saint brushed away invisible dirt off itself, “I wanted to make sure you were alright first. I mean I couldn’t imagine that whole ordeal being easy on you or your mind.” Saint had always checked on people physically but more mentally, something about its religion but, he never much listen to its talk of gods. Not particularly something a vampire would be enthralled to hear about.
“It seems it wasn’t easy for you either. We can continue to stay here and run in circles or you can pull on your adult pants and tell me what's wrong.” Truly, Astarion hadn’t meant it that harshlyy but, his feet were starting to ache from standing too long.
With a grin Saint signed, “Great! See you in the morning then!” as it turned over and began to lay down again. Where Saint almost outmatched Karlach in strength and definitely in height, Astarion was much more agile and quick, stuffing his hands under its arms and dragging it off the bed. It fell with a soft ‘oof’ as the both of them quickly looked around to see if the minor chaos had woken anyone up. When no one stirred, Astarion started to drag Saint across the floor as it hissed and tried to claw at him. Finally, after what felt like dragging a toddler throwing a tantrum, he had dragged out the door.
Saint stood up, opening its mouth to say something but Astarion was quick to cut in, “So are we talking about this over a bottle of wine or are we sitting on the roof? This is the one thing you get to decide.”
With a grumble, it responded, “You can get your wine, you’ll probably need it. I’ll be on the roof.”
It turned to go find the stairs that lead up to the roof before Astarion called out, “You want me to grab a glass or are you going to be stuck up again with your non-drinking rule?”
“I just don’t like alcohol. Is that too much for any of you to handle?” It huffed before disappearing.
Astarion laughed to himself about it as he headed downstairs to the tavern, it was still so full of life even in the late evening. The Elfsong Tavern had always been this packed, people soaking in the light of the oil lamps in exchange for the sunlight that would come in the morning. He quickly paid for the bottle of wine and a glass, he could always drink the rest of it later.
Astarion hurried himself up to the roof, there on one of the pillows sat a curled-up Saint, head resting on its knees as its arms wrapped around its legs and he could just make out that its tail was restless against the stone, swaying back and forth. He sat down across from it, “I half expected you to not come up in all honestly.” He struggled with the cork for a moment before Saint snatched it from his hands and pried open the bottle without much effort.
It smirked, “Whimp.”
Astarion rolled his eyes as he poured himself a glass, “My apologies, I'm not exactly built like a mountain, unlike someone else.”
Saint smiled, bearing all its too-sharp of teeth, “I will take that as a compliment!” It didn’t have the sharp fangs like most teiflings did, more like a row of shark teeth in its mouth. It was, unsettling for a reason he couldn’t place.
“You and misinterpreting things,” Astarion sighed, “Won’t be surprised if that's what kills you.”
Saint leaned back as it laughed, It was a very expressive person. That was except for the “Unsavory emotions”. It hide behind what seemed like endless hope and joy.
Astarion clasped a hand over the top of the wine glass, pointing at it with his first finger, “Now, spill. As much as I like the nighttime, I also like my sleep.”
It leaned back, resting on its hands behind it, raising an eyebrow, “But you said you weren’t-”
“You must be thick-headed, truly. This is my thank you. You helped me back there, made sure I didn’t lose it. It's my turn to pay it forward.” Astarion said as he took a sip of his drink.
Astarion could count the seconds it took to register in Saint's brain, before a simple, “Oh.” happened. “I should say thank you but, are you really sure? I mean having you in the team is repayment enough.” It offered.
“You’re avoiding it because you don’t think I can handle it?” Astarion accused.
“Yes?” Saint was even unsure of what it said.
“You just watched me stab a man to death and you think I can’t handle whatever you're about to say?” Astarion questioned.
It tilted its head to the side in acknowledgment and as a nod, “That is a fair point.” It then looked to the stars above, “But I mean shit, where do I start with it all?” Saint studied him again, Astarion made no effort to change his body behavior. It started to pick at a seam in its clothes, “Where I come from,” It was slow with its words, it was hard to not pick up that it was choosing each word carefully, “Cattle is,” It took a deep breath before letting its almost glowing golden eyes bounce around, never to look him in the eyes, “Cattle is a derogatory term.”
Suddenly Cazadors voice rang in the back of his head, “I will not speak to Cattle!” The feeling left a rock in his stomach as he set down the glass, “Oh, my apologies.”
“It’s not your fault that Cazadors a piece of shit Astarion. It’s just,” It swallowed, “I never thought I’d get called cattle here.”
“Well, that's something we can both agree on.” Astarion quipped.
It chuckled, “Oh absolutely. I mean you are a little bitchy yourself and have a weird sense of a power trip but you make up for it in the end.” If Astarion could, he would have kicked Saint. Yet, even with the confession, Saint's shoulder blades were still scrunched together. “It was a third of the reason I didn’t let you bite me.” Astarion blinked for a moment, he hadn’t even remembered that.
“A third? What's the other two parts?” Astarion asked.
Saint scratched at its neck, “Unimportant to the topic really. More personal things.”
Astarion nodded, before tilting his head, “May I ask why Cattle is taboo?”
“I don’t mind.” It shrugged, “I mean it's for the reason you think it is. When your race is used as a literal steak for a richer upper class and the other reasons, it quickly becomes derogatory.”
Astarion groaned as his head tilted back, “You and your endless secrets. Spit it out.”
“Astarion, this isn’t my real body.”
Astarion slowly looked back to Saint. It seemed almost guilty as it leaned forward, hands coming around the back of its neck as it looked to the ground. “I don’t think I heard you correctly, come again?”
It was still looking at the ground, “I’m cursed Astarion. I have no idea how I ended up on the ship. I am not from here. I see someone completely different when I look in the mirror. When The Emperor offered the tadpoles I just kind of said Fuck it, my body dysmorphia can’t really get any worse.” The air quotes when it said “The Emperor” gave way to a whole other conversation they could have but Astation guessed this one was already torturing Saint to utter. “I don’t know how to get my body back. I’ve just kind of,” It paused sitting back up, face scrunched up to a scowl, “given up.”
“So tell me, paint me a picture if you can, what do you actually look like,” Astarion asked, debating if he should just chug the rest of this wine if this is how the conversation was shaping up to be.
It leaned back, laying down on the slabs, “You’d never believe me.”
“I’ve seen a lot of shit in the past two hundred years, try me.” Astarion pointed out.
“Ten feet tall,” Astarion coughed as he almost choked on his wine, “You said you wouldn’t be surprised?”
“Oh I'm sorry, you start off with Ten feet tall. I’m going to be surprised. I thought being six foot-five was already enough for you! Good gods.” Astarion almost shouted.
Saint laughed, “I mean it doesn’t get any more normal than that, and I'm also pretty absurd for my race so fair enough. But continuing on, my horns are actually on the side of my head and shaped like classic bull horns. Still gold, but not actual gold, just like the color. Then you know where the scar is on my forehead is? Well that's about where my third eye is normally which i'm assuming if it's forced closed by whatever thing put me in this body is what's causing issues when I actually try talking to my god. Might also be the tadpoles.”
“What do you mean you actually talk to your god? I mean Shadowheart only got reached out to that one time and that was for torture.” Astarion asked, letting his questions fall from his mouth without much thinking,
“Well usually, my god hangs out in the back of the mind, quite literally. When it's there you can feel the weight. You know how The Emperor keeps talking to us through the tadpoles or whatever mind fuckery he’s doing? It's exactly like that but it's like having a second consciousness hanging out with you.” It talked with its hands, still looking up to the sky.
“Does your god read minds or something?” Astarion questioned.
“Astarion if I was back in my real body I could flip through your memories like a flip book if I so wanted. My god is a lot more complex than words can explain in all honestly. But you're distracting me you fuck. Shut up.”
“As long as you don’t do that to me,” Astarion muttered taking an obnoxiously loud sip.
“Anyway, third eye. Eyes are still golden too but they're a little different. We’ll get back to that. I don’t have pointed ears, I got the ears of a cow.” Its ears twitched as Saint said that.
Wine went just about everywhere as he coughed it out, taking a few moments to process, “Excuse me?”
Saint sat up, “I am a giant half “Human” half cow. Black ‘n white spotted fur. Everything from the waist down, cow. I’ve got the eyes of a cow too.” It paused eyes narrowing.
“A ten-foot-tall cow, no wonder your built like a goddamned mountain.” Astarion held a hand to his forehead, “Why are you staring at me like that?”
“Are you gonna say it?” Saint integrated.
“Say what?” Astarion was still trying to wrap around the idea of it all.
“Are you going to call me a minotaur?” Its eyes narrowed further.
“Saint, for fucks sake. That doesn’t sound like any minatour I’ve even heard of.” He sighed, “In all honesty, not even sure what you just described to me.”
“Its going to break your mind when I tell you my blood usually is a neon cyan.” It smiles like the devil himself.
“This is some weird lie you're telling me, right?” Astarion felt like his head was spinning.
“I told you all several times, under religious oath, I cannot lie. I mean I can, I’ll just cough up blood halfway through.” It shrugged.
It was quiet for a moment as Astarion tried to process what in the nine hells he was hearing until, “Wait, wait, wait. You said you had given up. You? Giving up? Unheard of. You can’t give up.”
A somber tone washed back over the conversation, “Astarion-”
“We can go to Gales, where ever the hell, and ask that grand wizard to break the curse. If they need to, they can just ring up mystra-” He was rambling.
“The world must be ending before I ask for her help.” Saint hissed.
“Have you not looked outside, the world is kind of ending!” Astarion half yelled.
“Oh because yes, Making your ex-lover into a walking bomb is right by any god,” Saint growled.
Astarion paused before nodding, “Fair point but seriously, you're helping everyone else. You broke Wylls pact, and almost died saving his father. You comforted Shadowheart after her run-in with Shar and are actively helping her find her parents. You managed to convince Gale to not throw himself at the Elder brain. You saved the lower dark for Haslin and then the thing with the teiflings. Then you collected infernal metal and tracked down Dammon for Karlach and are still trying to find a way she can stay here. Not to mention you saved me from Cazador. You deserve at least a shred of happiness.”
Finally, Astarion looked to Saint, all he could see in its eyes was utter heartbreak, despair, unlike anything he had seen. “I have given up hope on my own ending, helping you all find yours is the closest I’ll get.”
The moment seemed like centuries, seeing The great beacon of hope and happiness so defeated. “You don’t deserve that,” Astarion whispered.
“I don’t deserve a lot of things, Astarion.” He heard the slightest crack in its voice. “Yet I am handed them on a silver platter and I take it in stride. For there is nothing else I can do with it.”
“Doesn’t it wear you down?” He asked in quiet earnest.
“Immensely. There is nothing more i’d like to do than to just lay down and let it wash me out like a riptide. But I can’t do that. I won’t do that. I don’t have any other option than to live.” Its honesty burned like sunlight.
Astarion hesitated, remembering the way Saint would avoid touch like the plague, but decided to hold out his arms anyways. Saint was slow to move, like someone stuck in a gelatinous cube but, eventually, its arms wrapped around him. Astarion wasn’t the best at comfort but he could give it his best shot. He rubbed his hands on its back, “We’ll find a way. I promise.”
Astarion didn’t comment when its frame started to shake again or how he felt the back of his shirt become wet. He barely heard it whisper, “Thank you Astarion.”