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What kind of life can be led in the darkness? A place devoid of light. A thing that creates nothing but a void which devours everything and everyone whole. It doesn’t care about what it destroys. It doesn’t care about what it engulfs. The darkness only pushes forth, its shadowy tendrils sucking in more and more until nothing remains.
Some say that the darkness is killed by the light, but even when it is slain it still lingers. It lurks, lying in wait. It stalks you, hiding in every single shadow, preying on you. It lives under things… inside things, feeding, growing, anticipating.
You can try to outrun the darkness, sure, but eventually it will win. Just like water, it seeps through the cracks and forces its way in, drowning - decimating. Nothing can truly stop it.
A vicious cycle.
So I ask again - what kind of life can be led in the dark?
“A lonely one.”
The elf’s face creased, the words causing something akin to distress. Her lungs felt like they’d been punctured, the air inside rushing out. She’d been the one to push for the answer, yet here she was, ready to reject it because it made her feel terrible. She couldn’t really have expected less, but to hear those words actually come from his lips? It hurt more than she cared to admit.
Perhaps using the parasites to communicate in this way wasn’t a good idea after all. It always seemed to lead to pain on both sides - Astarion was left feeling bitter while Del felt guilty.
Resentment, malice and animosity often followed leading to a bad taste in both parties' mouths. Astarion fell into a pit of disgust and self-loathing which he seldom had the strength to pull himself out of and Del would be forced to watch from the sidelines lest her hand get bitten for trying to help him.
But it had to stop. She couldn’t keep watching him spiral, consumed by his hatred for Cazador and a life lost to isolation and shadows. She refused to let the man she loved be taken by the darkness again.
“What if the dark isn’t your destiny?” She asked. “What if loneliness is a thing of the past for you?”
“Ha!” Astarion laughed though it sounded hollow. “My dear, if you’d spent as much time in the dark as I, then you’d understand that it is the only guaranteed thing in a vampire’s life. Being alone is just part of that,” he muttered.
“What if there was some kind of cure?”
“A cure?” Astarion’s brow rose as he considered the option before shaking his head. “I doubt such a thing is even possible.”
“But what if it is? Biting Cazador would make you a true vampire, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, but that’s hardly a cure, is it?”
“No, it’s not, but if you were a true vampire, wouldn’t you be more powerful? You could seek a cure for your vampirism easier, surely,” Del suggested.
“Hm,” he hummed in response. “You think it’s that easy, do you? If it were so easy to bite him, don’t you think I would have done so by now?” He leaned forwards, tapping Del’s temple. “Please do try to use that brain of yours, darling.”
Del swatted his hand away, a pout resting on her lips. “I was only trying to help,” she mumbled.
“And who said I wanted help in the first place?”
“You did when you held a dagger to my throat and then graciously accepted my invitation to travel with me. You asked for my help when you told me about Cazador. You asked when you told me about your scars…” Del saw him go to protest and held up her finger to silence him. “You didn’t have to say the words, Astarion. I could see it in your eyes - in the way you acted. Your cry for help was so… desperate. It may not have been obvious at first because you hid behind charm and manipulation, but you were asking for help.”
Del sighed softly, eyes averting towards the ground for a moment. “Regardless of whether you ask for my help, I’m going to keep offering it because I truly think that’s what you need.” She met his gaze again. “When I said loneliness and darkness doesn’t have to be your destiny, I meant it.”
Astarion remained silent, conflicted over what she was saying. On one hand he wanted so badly to believe her, but on the other, nobody had ever told him that and stuck around long enough to see it through. What made Del any different?
Noticing his conflicted look, the wood elf smiled sadly. “You don’t believe me,” she spoke. “That’s fine. I don’t blame you. From what you’ve told me, no one has ever kept their promises for you, so why should you believe me?”
She stepped closer to him, looking up into those beautiful ruby red eyes that she’d fallen in love with. Her hand, gentle and soft, came up to cup his cheek, thumb caressing his jawline delicately. Astarion softened, leaning into the touch, eyes closing as his brows creased in slight anguish, his inner turmoil clear as he waited for the answer to her own question.
Del allowed him this moment, sensing that he needed to take it in before she spoke once more. “Because, despite everything, I’m still here, aren’t I? I’m still standing right in front of you, and I’m not going anywhere.”