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A shadow fell over the pages of D'ylân's book, one that was a pleasure to ignore. That was, until the sun-blocking intruder opened his mouth.
"Hey, horns."
Letting out a sigh that came alarmingly close to a growl, D'ylân looked up.
"More plans to ruin my day, midge?"
Astarion let out a growl that came suspiciously close to a snort. One hand on his hip, he glared down at the D'ylân, but the twitching corner of his mouth gave away his good mood, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.
"Your slothful behaviour is a disgrace to the camp. Get moving, I have work for you."
"I'm not doing your chores." D'ylân yawned and turned his attention back to his book. Peaceful daylight moments had become a luxury on their chase for a cure, and all the sidetracking that came with it. On most days, it was already dark when they had time to wind down for a couple of hours before he was drawn to his pile of furs in his tent.
D'ylân had been indignant when Durge decided to leave him at camp today - to keep a certain someone with sticky fingers out of their tents and backpacks, as he suspected. On the other hand, with his share of camp tasks done, this was the perfect opportunity to soak in some sun, stories, and, most of all, quiet.
Astarion clicked his tongue impatiently.
"Like I'd waste a precious day in the sun on discussing something as mundane as chores with someone as mundane as you! I need you to take care of something that's more suitable for the likes of you."
"Oh!" Laughing, D'ylân put his book away and stood up; Astarion took a step back when the much taller tiefling looked down at him. "Why didn't you just say so? Of course, I'll help you."
"That…That's…! As if I'd ever need your help!" Astarion huffed, scrunching up his nose at the mere thought. "Will you come with me or not?"
"Since I'm already standing, why not? Lead the way, young lord," he said sweetly, with a mockingly deep bow. Astarion rolled his eyes again and shook his head, considering this silliness not worthy of another quip.
They left the camp and followed the path in the opposite direction from the rocky shore. D'ylân enjoyed the silence of this unplanned walk. The sun stood high in the blue sky. A mild breeze carried the salty taste of the sea and kept the air from becoming too warm. Thank the gods, he had decided against changing into his much heavier leather coat and pants he preferred to wear on the road. His step was much lighter in his buckskin breeches and simple but well-made leather sandals. His white shirt fluttered loosely around his waist. A few blond strands had escaped the tight bun in his neck and were now pushed into his face by the playful wind.
They walked up a steep slope that was covered in more grass than rocks and pebbles, making the hike much more pleasant.
It led up to a cliff that pointed at the sea. Close to the edge, surrounded by raspberry bushes, stood a gnarly tree that looked as old as the land. It stood tall and proud with a lush green crown. That it lived long enough to grow such strong roots that allowed it to bear fruit despite the lonely struggle against the elements was one of nature's small miracles that became more impressive the longer one paused to think about it.
"You need to get up there." Astarion pointed at a massive branch that lurked under the leaves. "Gale wanted fresh fruit for whatever he plans for dinner tonight. There are some up there, but I can't reach the lowest branch. Your obnoxious size could be useful for once, if you'd be so kind."
"So I'm doing one of your chores after all." D'ylân gave him a side glance. "I don't remember any discussion about Gale's cooking plans, now that you mentioned it."
Astarion shrugged.
"He didn't task me with it explicitly, but asked me to keep an eye open for anything of use to your mortal tongues if I happen to come across it on my prowls. So, no." He smirked at D'ylân. "This isn't one of my chores. Just an opportunity to do something nice for Gale. But if you don't want to do something nice for Gale, who am I to push you?"
"Brat." D'ylân snorted and pushed through the bushes, now wishing he'd wear his thicker pants. Thankfully, the shrubs barely reached his hips. D'ylân didn't blame him for delegating the task. Astarion would have sunk to his waist into this barrier of thorns. Not impossible to traverse, but much more unpleasant.
D'ylân eventually stood in front of what seemed to be an apple tree, one of those rare breeds that happened by chance when the seeds of the known forms lost their way. And there was only one way to find out if it was bearing edible fruit: Up.
The trunk looked healthy and sturdy. Good, he wouldn't have liked to climb a brittle thing that was dead inside so close to the edge of the cliff. Standing on his toes, he could just reach the branch Astarion had pointed out. A little jump was enough to get a good grip on it.
Clenching his teeth and his muscles bulging under the tightening sleeves of his shirt, he pulled himself up with a strained grunt. Once up, he was rather pleased. The branch was indeed large and healthy, and he could sit comfortably on it, with his legs and tail dangling in the air.
"Try not to be a klutz for once and don't look around!" Astarion shouted from below. "Unless you want to explain to Withers that you fell and died because of your vertigo!"
"My what?" D'ylân laughed. That was news to him, that he was supposedly afraid of heights. Naturally, the underlying rudeness of Astarion's warning prompted him to do just that.
One hand on the branch and the other against the trunk, he caught his breath the moment he turned his eyes ahead.
Like jagged teeth broken off ancient stone, rocks and cliffs fringed the basin whose narrow shore they had chosen for their camp. Beyond stretched the sea, endlessly, with no land in sight. The calm surface sparkled like a sheet of blue and green gemstones in the afternoon sun until it eventually disappeared behind the horizon that separated it from the azure sky.
This was beautiful.
He wanted to stay here.
He wished he had brought his violin.
He wanted to come back during a storm and find the melody to the beat of house-high waves crashing against the cliff.
"Pretty, isn't it?" Astarion shimmied up the tree and, with feline grace, swung himself on a branch opposite D'ylân's.
"Hm." D'ylân nodded, lost in thought. He was delighted whenever they stayed close to a lake or river, but there was something in the wide, wild, and salty waters that pulled at his heartstrings, making them sing with happiness and yearning.
The wind got caught in the tree's crown, rustling through the leaves. He barely noticed how the string that held his hair bun together disappeared and the waves of his blond mane rippled over his shoulders and back, to become a plaything for the breeze.
"There's a whole world out there," Astarion muttered after a while, as if he had to voice the thought to truly believe it.
"What? Oh, right." D'ylân looked to his left where Astarion sat, staring ahead, his fingers playing with a familiar-looking leather string. He squinted at him, only now noticing his open hair that would be a pain to untangle later. But he felt too light around his heart to turn this moment into banter.
"This brings back memories," D'ylân said, his gaze returning to the sea. "I used to climb the trees in our garden all the time when I was little. I'd just sit there and look. Over the garden wall, beyond the rooftops until they glowed red under the setting sun. Streets, houses, gardens, parks, all in front of my eyes, but I could barely see far enough to see where Baldur's Gate ended.
I'd think the same. There's a whole world out there. And I wondered if I'd ever grow up to go there to see for myself."
He looked at Astarion again, smiling.
"And I did."
For a moment, Astarion stared at him, his eyes wide and unreadable, but not with fear as they used to be in the early days after fate forced them on their shared journey.
Then, more afraid of the moment than he was of D'ylân lately, Astarion snorted.
"I suppose you cannot help being a bard about something as profane as climbing a tree. Well, at least, you don't sound as ridiculous as Volo."
"Hey! Don't insult a master of the craft! Volo knows what he's doing."
"If anything, it makes it worse!" Astarion scoffed. He closed his eyes and turned it towards the sun. "But sure, this is nice, whether there's a world ahead or not."
"Not much of a tree climber yourself when you were a kid?"
Eyes still closed, Astarion frowned, his features hardening.
"There's nothing left of my childhood in my memories. As for Cazador, there weren't opportunities of such whims under him." He gave a small, amused laugh. "Not counting hunting or shooting bugbears to keep incompetent tieflings alive, I suppose this is going to be my first memory of climbing a tree, just to enjoy the view." Sadness dampened his sigh. "Consider yourself and your happy little childhood memories lucky."
"I'm sorry," D'ylân said warmly. It was difficult lately to feel angry or insulted by Astarion's sharp tongue, as it had become harder and harder to grasp what he had lost the moment he had become a spawn, and with what those losses had been replaced.
"Knowing you, it's probably barely a comfort," D'ylân said slowly after a moment of silence, "But for what it's worth, you experienced your first time of climbing a tree to enjoy the view with a friend. It might not be much, but it's more than nothing."
"You…!" There was that unreadable look in Astarion's eyes again. It disappeared when he forced his smile into a grin. "I'll ruin the moment by saying something venomous in return, you know that, don't you?"
"I'd be disappointed if you didn't." D'ylân grinned back. "Also, there aren't any."
"Any what now?" Astarion asked, in a pretended exasperated tone.
"Fruit." D'ylân pointed at the branches above them. "By the look of it, it only stopped blooming rather recently. It'll be another month before it bears anything visible from the ground, let alone worth picking."
"Huh, would you look at that. How mysterious. I could have sworn differently." Indifferently, Astarion looked up and shrugged. "I suppose it was one of the other trees closer to the shore after all. My bad."
"Sure. Happens to the best of us." As if the ruse hadn't been up the moment Astarion joined him up here after claiming it was out of reach!
You could just have said you wanted to show me the view because you thought I'd like it. But that would mean you had to admit that you wanted to do something nice for me for once, wouldn't it?
He turned the sentence around in his mind for a moment, rewording it several times, from teasing to appreciative, even to flirty, and just plain grateful.
He decided against saying anything.
They already knew, and for now, that was enough.