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It takes Astarion two whole days to do something stupid, after having been released from those aliens and, more importantly, after having finally been freed from Cazador's hold. Two days are way too much time, considering the huge changes he's been forced to experience, really.
While travelling with the strangest group of companions he could have ever joined – a cleric, a githyanki and a monster hunter –, they encountered a bloody owl bear. Of course, after having been able to escape the cave without the enormous beast noticing them, the group simply left it alone.
Not Astarion, though.
Once everyone else went to sleep, after having shared yet another meal where Astarion had to pretend the food he was ingesting didn't taste like ash, Astarion offered to stand in watch. Obviously, he didn't stay for long, and began his way back to the cave.
He's considered, many times, biting one of his new friends– the mere thought of considering them that makes him grimace. It's a silly thought. He's only using them because he needs them for his own protection, nothing else. As soon as they get rid of these parasites, each of them will take their own way, and he'll have to come back to him– no.
Astarion has to figure something out to fix that tiny problem of his, but first he needs to eat, which takes him back to topic: since he can't bite one of his own – if Cazador's commands are really out of the way and Astarion's now truly able to drink from thinking creatures, a theory he's yet to prove –, considering how badly they'd certainly react, that leaves him with animals. And what better option amonst all the animals one could find in Faerûn than an owlbear?
And he managed to fight along with the others pretty well, too! With his dagger and bow, the owlbear will be done for in a matter of a few moments, surely. Astarion could almost shake, purely out of excitement.
Finding the cave again is not difficult at all, nor is it to catch sight of the beast he'll be killing tonight. His mouth's watering already, Astarion realizes, using the shadows like a second skin to get to the sleeping beast.
Astarion readies his twin daggers, before he launches himself against the beast, stabbing both sides of its neck. As soon as the heavy smell of blood reaches his nose, Astarion loses any rationality left in him and stabs his own pair of sharp knives into its neck, ignoring the way the beast weakly struggles against his grip.
Astarion moans into the soft skin of the beast's neck as bliss hits him like a brick, and the world around him disappears for a second. There's no Cazador to hunt and hurt him, or years and years of torment, or that certain void that hunger creates once it's become your immortal companion.
For a moment, Astarion is free.
But perhaps he was never meant for freedom, because the next second Astarion feels four claws nailing themselves into his back, certainly ripping both skin and flesh, before throwing him to the side and away from his well-earnt food. He chokes out a gasp as he falls back to the ground, and he tries to escape from his imminent doom.
Like a broken bottle of wine, Astarion feels himself being drained, rapidly losing all the delicious blood he was just sucking! He didn't even get a good taste of it, for fuck's sake!
So, apparently, there's a second owlbear, that's four times as big as the one Astarion was trying to kill just now, if the size of its claws is anything to get by. "Damn it..." Astarion weakly mutters, dragging himself through the mud to get away from the monster he has just pissed off.
Astarion's really hoping he has not just killed that thing's baby or else he really is a dead elf. Dead undead elf. Dead vampire spawn. Whatever.
"Help-!" He tries to shout for help then, but all that comes out of his throat is a choked out yelp. Guess the claws pierced way deeper than he imagined, because he can clearly taste blood on his tongue– another perk of breathing out of habit.
"Arde!"
"Wyll...?" Astarion whispers to himself, finally relaxing onto the dirt, knowing the cavalry's here. He can hear the beast's pained screech as it burns, product of Wyll's spell.
But then, all of a sudden, Astarion grows aware the bite marks he must've left on the baby owlbear's neck, and how blood must be drying all around his face and nails and hands and clothes–
"Astarion," Wyll snaps him back to reality and he sounds way to close to him. Escape is completely out of the table now, and Astarion feels far too exhausted to really fight or talk his way out.
"If you're going to kill me, just make it quick," Astarion sighs, closing his eyes and completely giving up.
"Kill you?" Wyll sounds astonished at his words, as he exhales a short laugh. "Astarion, don't be silly, now."
Out of the blue, Astarion feels a warm hand cupping his cheek, slowly lifting his head, and then he's laying on Wyll's lap. Astarion is not freaking out because he doesn't have enough blood to muster even the slightest of nerves.
"If this is about you being a vampire, let me tell you it's no surprise to a monster hunter like me," Wyll says with a gentle chuckle, running a hand through Astarion's curls and sending a shiver through his spine. "The sunlight part did took me off your trail for a bit," Wyll adds, oblivious to Astarion's racing brain and unbeating heart.
"Exactly, you hunt things like me, thus," Astarion huffs a breath, almost indignant at Wyll.
"I'm not going to kill you," Wyll argues, but there's no bite to his words, "here, take my blood."
I know I can't dream but I guess there's a first time for everything, Astarion thinks, staring with wide eyes as the monster hunter rolls up his sleeve and offers him his wrist.
"Trust me, you'll feel better," Wyll encourages him, as if Astarion is one of those tieflings Wyll was teaching how to use a sword, the first time they'd met– not that Astarion even remembers that much about that particular day, nor cares about Wyll. He just needs him for protection. That’s right. He's using him. Even now, he's literally using him for blood.
"Why are you doing this?" Astarion can't help but ask. Biting his tongue has never been his thing, after all. "Is it some kind of sick game? Where you'll hunt me as soon as I gain strengh?"
"What?" Wyll sounds both absolutely horrified and utterly confused. "Why–?"
"It's more reasonable than to have a bloody monster hunter helping a vampire spawn," Astarion narrows his eyes at the wrist in front of him, since he's too weak to move his head and personally glare at Wyll.
"As far as I'm concerned, you're no threat to me or the group," Wyll says with a sigh, but doesn't push his wrist any closer– if anything, he pulls it away and leaves it over his lap, away from Astarion's face. "And as long as you don't betray my trust, I consider you a friend–"
Before he can spill any more... whatever, Astarion speaks. "You make no sense, Wyll," he says with a scoff.
"Just drink, Astarion, please."
Astarion thinks he must be looking worse for wear, because Wyll sounds desperate now.
"Okay, give me that," Astarion rolls his eyes, earning another amused chuckle, as he raises a hand to grab Wyll's wrist and bring it closer to his mouth.
Before losing himself in the bliss again, Astarion does catch a surprised gasp as soon as he pulls his fangs out. Right after, of course, everything he can feel about is the warm blood filling his mouth and belly, and once again the world around him disappears.
The beauty of the universe vanishes because, suddenly, someone's pulling Astarion off his food–
"Astarion."
Right, Astarion thinks as he grounds himself and follows Wyll's voice to find his way out of the oblivion. He pulls his fangs out of Wyll's wrist and licks the twin wounds to start the healing process. He can feel Wyll's eyes on him, but the monster hunter – that has just let a vampire drink his own blood – has yet to comment on what's just happened.
"That was amazing," right then, Astarion can't help but admit with a content sigh, now properly sitting up and licking his lips– he would hate to waste even a drop of that delicious blood. "You taste amazing, darling."
"Thank you?" Wyll looks genuinely flustered at the praise, and a bit pale, if you will. "I'm glad to be of help," he smiles at Astarion, with that sincere look he always seems to fashion when he's being selfless and/or reckless – both in this case.
"Oh, dear, you're much more than that!" Astarion could almost kiss him, he thinks, still high off blood, as he leans forward. "And you even saved me from that big ugly beast! You're my hero, Blade of Frontiers!" Astarion showers him with compliments, knowing – from what he'd gathered during the past few days – Wyll would not appreciate some other less than professional ways of payment.
"It really is nothing, Astarion," Wyll assures him with another gentle smile, looking far too tired to be out and about at these hours.
"Come, I'll take us back to our camp," Astarion offers him his hand, when he's standing back on his feet, feeling brand new. The wounds on his back have been stitched back together and have left no scars behind. He can't say the same for his clothes, but to sew some holes in his shirt is children's play for Astarion.
"You're looking way better already," Wyll comments, taking a slower pace than him when they start walking, which Astarion quickly makes sure to follow. He's ready to take one of Wyll's arms around his shoulders if it's neccessary, too.
"That's just how it works, dear, and I really appreciate what you did for me back there," Astarion confesses, looking ahead of them instead of directly at Wyll. "It was a gift, and I will remember it."
"I just did what was right. You're a friend and you needed help."
"And before that, you came to look for me," Astarion snaps his head to look at Wyll, cocking one eyebrow up.
"I couldn’t sleep, so I got up, and then I noticed you weren't there," Wyll explains, holding his hands up in defense. It's almost endearing. "So I went out to look for you." It's funny how Wyll says it, like it's the obvious thing to do, to go look for your friendly vampire spawn that, as far you know, could be easily planning to stab you in the back, or rather in the neck.
"And how did you know where to find me?" The obvious question escapes Astarion's lips before he can stop it.
"You're not that sly, Astarion," now it's Wyll's turn to look unimpressed, except he looks a second away from grinning. "Earlier, I noticed you couldn’t keep your eyes off that thing, and I knew it wasn't out of fear."
"How very observant of you," Astarion tries not to feel cornered, because he really isn't. Wyll has just saved him, yet Astarion can't help but doubt his good intentions.
Before long, however, the two of them reach their camp.
"Finally, you two!" Karlach abruptly greets them, making Astarion almost jump out of his skin. He didn't think they would find anyone else awake. "Are you okay?" She says, inspecting both of them from head to toe.
"Right as rain, dear," Astarion says after clearing his throat. "I just went for a walk and then Wyll joined me."
"I hope you didn’t do anything nasty," Karlach grins at them, earning a row of curses thrown at her way.
But, internally, Astarion's slowly spiraling. He can't believe he's drank so much blood in one single day. Hells, he must've drank more blood today than he had in two hundred years. And Wyll's, nonetheless. Because Wyll knows– has known this whole time he was a vampire spawn and never tried to kill him.
"Fangs?"
Karlach brings him back to their conversation, which has apparently ended at some point. Wyll's looking at him with a funny look too. Perhaps Astarion missed his cue to throw a stupid comment. "Are you sure you're okay?" Karlach gives him a concerned look.
"It's nothing, dear," Astarion assures them both with an easy smile. "You two should go back to sleep. I promise I won't go anywhere this time."
And with a full stomach and a clearer mind, Astarion sits in front of the fire once again, keeping watch and keeping his friends safe.