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Astarion did not care for the Tieflings. He thought it had been foolish to lose time and risk their own safety to serve the interest of a bunch of strangers. They did not even receive any prize for their trouble, beside some vinegar for wine. Not that he would be able to appreciate it even if it were the best vintage in the cave of the wealthiest baldurian patriar…
That night, everyone seemed to be having a good time; enjoying the party, dancing, mingling with each other and that frustrated him even more. How could they relax with that thing in their brain? How could they dance, knowing of the Absolute’s menace, looming over them. How could they enjoy themselves when Cazador’s goons could invade their camp at any point, drain them dry and take him to be enslaved once more.
Astarion tried to shake these thoughts off. He did not want to think of that now, but he could not help it. Luckily his contemplations were interrupted but the jarring sensation that someone was watching him.
Indeed he was right. Gale was standing a few meters from him, a goblet of wine in his hand, staring at him with unwavering eyes. It was almost uncanny how intense the wizard's gaze pierced through him; he barely blinked at all.
Astarion got the hint and decided to make his advance. He suspected the other man would never dare; otherwise he wouldn’t be standing there like a tree.
Astarion relished seeing the other man flinch and blush at his approach. It was obvious his charm was taking effect on the mage.
“Darling, what can I do for you tonight?” The vampire asked candidly, fluttering his eyelashes a bit too much.
“Nothing… I…” Gale stuttered shyly.
How adorable.
“I was standing downwind from you…” He continued.
Astarion eyebrows shot upwards, surprised by such an odd sentence. Gale pinched his lips together in regret. He probably had not meant to say this outloud. He looked inside his cup, silently accusing the red liquid with remorseful eyes.
“So it seemed.” Astarion chuckled.
“I did that on purpose….” The wizard added, supposedly trying to explain himself, “I really like how you smell.”
This revelation left Astarion speechless. He was not sure if he found that confession incredibly creepy or hilarious. He decided on the latter but had to fight hard to refrain from bursting out laughing in the wizard’s face; this man was the silliest person he had ever met.
“Are you flirting with me, Gale?” He asked instead, coquettishly twirling a finger in one of his silver curls.
“No….” the man answered.
He was blushing way too much not to be lying. He liked the vampire. This was Astarion’s chance to set his plan in motion. He would have sooner chosen Wyll or Lae’zel to be frank, as they were seemingly stronger, but a master of the weave was a powerful ally all the same. Plus he was touch-starved and ridiculously romantic: therefore an easy target.
Astarion reached out and gently brushed the fingers holding the silver cup.
“You know, if you want to catch a better whiff of my scent… Or even a taste… I know a place nearby. Quiet and remote. We could get to know each other a little better then?”
Gale choked on a hiccup. His eyes darted around and he seemed to panic. He put his cup down and backed away.
“Yes… No… I was just sniffing…” He started
Gale interrupted himself with an embarrassed groan.
“Shut up, Gale! That’s inapropriate!...” He reprimanded himself. Then to Astarion, “Apologies… I’ve had far too much wine and you not nearly enough to put up with my… Quirks… Please forget I said anything.”
At these words the mage practically ran away, flustered. This was for sure an amusing sight but it did derail Astarion’s plan. He did not expect to be rejected. That nearly never happened. His eyes followed the purple silhouette stumbling around camp and he could not help but smile. A smile he was not aware of and that he promptly wiped off his face when he realized it was etched there.
There was no time for fondness, or endearment. He would reiterate his attempt another time…