"Vinegar for wine? What happend to it's too good to waste?" She turns her head to take a sip of wine, and with a step sideways manages to put some distance between them.
Enough to recover her thoughts.
"Can't believe you didn't have fun playing nurse to your favourite wizard," she starts, with an amused smile. Shakes her head, considering his other needs. "But I can do flattery. You'll have to decide how empty it is. You're a very beautiful man, Astarion, and the closer I am to said beauty, the more tongue-tied I feel. If you start lecturing me about how you're talking about sex when you say," here she imitates him again, but just for the word, "fun, I might combust."
The vampire hums and clucks his tongue softly. "Combust? Tsk. I didn't think we'd gotten nearly that far along. Wait until I actually start trying."
As she drifts away, putting that distance between them once again, Astarion relaxes his stance. It's clearly not discomfort, not with her bravely wading into this particular conversational pool.
"Of course this is all hypothetical. For the moment."
"Purely hypothetical, of course " she agrees, with a toast of her cup, and a sip. She chooses this as the right time to sit down again, even if her seat ends up being the closes chest that holds all her belongings.
"In the purely hypothetical sense, of course, why aren't you? Actually trying, I mean. I'm not without my charm, I'm sure, and I'm definitely willing and interested, so I've - in a very roundabout way, circumnavigated, you see - wondered if it's because you don't want to." A little shrug.
"Honest hypotheticals only, no hard feelings. And also if there are no hard feelings."
He pauses for a moment, letting silence swallow the small tent. Some of the edge eases off of his expression, the line of his mouth a little softer.
"I didn't want you to assume that after everything you've already done, that I was taking advantage of the situation, I suppose. It wouldn't be an unfair thing to suppose, even if untrue. Vampires aren't exactly a trustworthy sort."
There's a silent pause between them, as she considers his words. "You're the only vampire I know," she finally says, her expression earnest and soft.
"And I do like to let someone's prove themselves trustworthy as an individual rather than go by baseless, biased opinions written of their whole race, by some bard in a book. I mean, you've met Volo."
There's a change in her expression again, from that roll of her eyes about Volo to something softer. Soft and warm, like the candlelight in the tent. "I trust you."
Plenty of fools had made that mistake before, and paid dearly for it. But this time is different.
Isn't it?
"Then trust that you won't want to be as gracious with the rest of my kind. You'd be better off trusting the devil on our tail," he replies with huff, one hand lifting to wave dismissively. "Thankfully, or perhaps regrettably, hanging around with you degenerates is beginning to have an effect on me."
If this time isn't different, Hermione will have a rough awakening. Another life lesson, one she hopes to neither need to be taught nor perish learning. It's nothing as dramatic as expecting the worst of Astarion, truly, because she doesn't. But here he goes again, deflecting like it's his bonus action, and she rolls her eyes.
"Oh, for gods' - I'm trying to say I like you," she snaps, having apparently reached the end of her tether. A pity she chooses her tent, while not even wear a goddamn breast band under her flimsy robes, as the spot to lose her patience. She sucks in a breath, and exhales, pressing her palms together.
"I'm sorry, that was...abrupt. I am not very good at this, I know." A pause, after which she gestures at him. "I know because you've told me, actually. Please let's forget all that awkward outburst."
"Careful. Or you're going to wrench something unpleasant. And after I went through all the trouble of patching you up."
Far from looking alarmed at the outburst, Astarion almost looks amused. It really is too easy to wind her up, sometimes.
"So. That being the case! Perhaps we put a pin in this particular conversation until you're well enough to do something about it, mm?" His brows arch, that devilish smirk crossing his lips once more. "A night we could arrange for...a little more privacy, perhaps."
Given that she probably just announced her feelings to anyone in the camp standing within thirty feet.
She lets out a laugh at being scolded, even as the grimace of pain - her back feels very tight, he's not wrong - breaks the expression of fondness.
"Ow - fair point."
She did just announce her feelings in an outburst - typical. By the morning, Karlach is going to start waggling her eyebrows at her, and Lae'Zel might offer - oh, shudder - seduction tips fit for a githyanki. Privacy seems like an impossible luxury for either of them, here.
"In the Shadow Cursed Lands?" she asks, managing to sound amused and sarcastic. So, like Astarion.
Still, what's the rush? It's not like they're going to die tomorrow. There's so much still to do - finding their way into Moonrise Towers and freeing the tieflings (if they find them), and whatever Raphael wants from him, and breaking the curse...
"Alright," she admits, after a moment of feeling dizzy by the sheer amount of Things To Do. "Yes - pinned. We'll consider it pinned. Will you still travel with me, tomorrow?"
For a moment, it almost seems like things have gone back to normal. But before he departs, the elf tilts his head at Hermione consideringly. Appreciatively, even. Then he smiles, flashing fang once more.
"Get your rest," he murmurs softly. "You're certainly going to need it."
She hesitates, for a moment, before pushing herself up from her seat, fretting her fingers together.
"Astarion?" she calls out softly, a flutter of nerves in her throat. "This is going to be - maybe this will be silly, and you can say it, but if you wanted to, if you were amenable to it, I would - do you want a hug?"
A bit patronising, that, she thinks to herself as the tent flap falls shut in his wake. Calling her precious? Where does he get off?
With me, apparently, if I'm lucky. A wave of heat rushes through her, she gets all flustered and shoves her face in her hands for a moment, burying a silent scream against her palms.
"What a mess."
She's going to set the wine aside, cork it and put it in her chest, then burrow under blankets and sleep. She falls asleep thinking of where she could possibly find somewhere with privacy for them, anywhere here.
In the morning, that takes not the frontline of her concerns, due to mostly lack of time. She stubbornly ignores Karlach's cheeky grins, and asks Lae'Zel to help Karlach with selling their wares as soon as the githyanki woman sits down next to Hermione at breakfast and attempts to explain how she conquered god's favourite little princess.
("Your mouth will be your biggest asset - "
"Oh my gods, all of my gods, please go help Karlach?")
With those two dispatched towards Last Light's quartermaster, she gathers Astarion (as promised) and Halsin and Shadowheart and they head out to find Thaniel's spirit.
Which takes the whole damn day, or what feels like it. But gods, it feels like a victory, coming back and setting Thaniel to rights, and coming a step closer to healing this land.
"Kinda feels great, doesn't it? Potentially saving the day," she asks Astarion later in the evening, as they walk back towards camp.
Is she going to point out that there's a nice little corner of woods they could steal away to and... talk? No, not yet.
"Oh yes. I feel much better now, having gathered up another eerie little waif to add to our collection of strays. One that might potentially make this place a little less dreadful."
Tart sarcasm aside, the shudder he gives is almost genuine.
"I'm all for the dark and the shadows, but this place makes even my skin crawl."
Still, they'd done something allegedly to the common good, and Hermione and Halsin seemed pleased enough with their efforts. It's progress forward, in a way. Patience will provide something a little more substantial, hopefully.
But he's fairly certain there's a glint in Hermione's eye as they walk. Something unsaid. It doesn't take an intelligence score the level of Gale's to know what might be on her mind, and he smirks quietly in the dark.
There's no hiding her reactions around a vampire, so she has decided to not bother. At the very least, she refuses to feel guilty over finding him spellbindingly attractive.
The victory of the day is putting some pep in her step, making her forget her injuries from last night and feel closer to an actual victory against the Absolute. It suffuses her with optimism.
Could they truly have fixed this land? Broken the curse? Halsin is optimistic too, and has promised to keep her updated as soon as Oliver and Thaniel are reunited.
So, there's some time. It feels like there's some time.
"I think we've earned a little celebration," she admits, glancing sideways at him before smiling. "I don't think we finished your wine, if you'd still like to."
As though he had any interest at all in the wine. But there are rituals to observe, in this sort of matter.
"Then why don't we wait for things to quiet down some and we can find somewhere secure to enjoy ourselves? We're not exactly anywhere terribly inviting, but we could make do."
The Last Light inn isn't too terrible, but she understands his point. It's hard to feel inclined towards seduction on the regular, since Hermione values spirited, intellectual conversations and meeting her match in terms of ability to bicker. And then, when she does find the right match to light up a spark, they're in the middle of a pretty harrowing adventure and in a pretty uninviting place.
"I'm sure we can get creative," she plays along, with a slight smirk. "You've seen my impressive command of cantrips, after all." Everything can be lit well, everything can be cleansed, and every broken thing can be mended. She'd make a very good domestic witch, if she were not such a powerhouse with a Fireball.
"Well, since no one's making use of the wine cellar in the Last Light, it seems like we could make a cozy little spot for ourselves. I believe the door even locks."
Four walls in a place like this? Worth its weight in gold. It certainly wouldn't do to have any intimate entanglements interrupted by some spooky busybody looking for fresh victims. Certainly would set the pulse racing, though, if he still had such a thing.
Hermione, however, might not appreciate the scare as much.
That brings her to a pause. "Huh - you're right, it does. I hadn't even thought about it," she says. Shrugs a little, and admits: "I suppose I kept picturing a meadow with you or something of that type. Soft light, moonlight, and a warm breeze."
But the cellar of Last Light is empty and tucked away, and they cleared it of all those beastlies. They would need to sneak in.
"We'll need to sneak in," she says conspiratorially, but still smiling - a genuine smile, as her excitement grows. "Our own little side-quest, mm?"
"A little late for that, darling. At least until we've made it through this awful place. Assuming we do. Which I am, at the moment. I'm feeling optimistic at present!"
He chuckles, gesturing grandly with one hand before letting it settle at his side once more.
"And if it's sneaking you want, you couldn't have chosen better."
She lets out a laugh at that. "I have been meaning to get better at sneaking, I'll admit. Invisibility potions are for the wealthy, and you can't be wealthy if you've got to spend so much gold on paper."
The struggles of a wizard. She is dexterous, fairly so, but Astarion is just better. She's been asking him to follow her along on every adventure because Hermione Granger has never met a locked door she hasn't wanted to open.
"If we find a locked chest, I promise to applaud. Write stories of your clever fingers."
How that sounds sinks in a second later, and she blushes what she reckons might be beet red at this point. Time to move along - time to move on.
"We'll make it out of here, I'm sure of it." She'll make sure of it. "We'll make it out, we'll see the city again, and find a cure for these little wormlings in our heads. Eh, sorry, I realise talking about the tadpoles is not the most romantic of topics."
As nimble in conversation as he is with his fingers, Astarion cocks his head in thought.
"Once they're out of our heads...what's the first thing you'll do?" He has his own ideas, of course, but it's better to look forward to all the wonderful things they have to look forward to.
Like revenge. That's probably highest on his list at the moment, in truth, but he's wise enough not to say so out loud.
"It depends," she murmurs, frowning slightly at the list of options. "On what we do before we get them out of our heads, and on how many of our companions still want me around."
She rushes past that little sliver of self-doubt. (What is her purpose if she can't be of help to her friends? Even her school friends lost interest in her after they recovered the Tower from under Riddle's control, because they wanted to move on with their magical studies and Hermione wanted to change things.)
Karlach will need her help, Hermione refuses to let the tiefling be forced to return to the Hells, there must be a better way, maybe if they find a better artificer? And Wyll, she promised she'd help him exit his contract with Mizora, and Gale - oh, Gale, there's much to help him with - and she can sum it all up.
"I think I'll keep travelling. I like the adventure, to be sure, but I enjoy helping people more - but okay, that's not my final answer. Final answer, as soon as the tadpoles are out of our heads, I'm taking a three-hour long bubble bath."
"Wouldn't that be nice? Gods, once we reach the city, if we don't find a proper inn to luxuriate in, it'll be a travesty."
Wry amusement touches his lips, even as he rolls his eyes and gestures loosely in the direction that Baldur's Gate must lie. They're getting closer and closer every day, and he's trying not to think about that winding ball of anxiety in the pit of his stomach at the idea.
She follows his line of sight - he must be right about this, she wouldn't know; she envies that darkvision a lot in this realm - and tries to imagine the city being there. Beyond the shaded trees. Beyond the lurking dangers.
"It's a good thing we're both good at improvising," she jokes back, her voice a little on the wry side.
Her expression softens as she spots the campsite in the distance, and she brushes the back of her fingers over his knuckles - touch, gentle and casual, easy as breathing.
"I'm going to help the others with dinner," she says, "but... Find me, when they've gone to sleep?"
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Enough to recover her thoughts.
"Can't believe you didn't have fun playing nurse to your favourite wizard," she starts, with an amused smile. Shakes her head, considering his other needs. "But I can do flattery. You'll have to decide how empty it is. You're a very beautiful man, Astarion, and the closer I am to said beauty, the more tongue-tied I feel. If you start lecturing me about how you're talking about sex when you say," here she imitates him again, but just for the word, "fun, I might combust."
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As she drifts away, putting that distance between them once again, Astarion relaxes his stance. It's clearly not discomfort, not with her bravely wading into this particular conversational pool.
"Of course this is all hypothetical. For the moment."
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"In the purely hypothetical sense, of course, why aren't you? Actually trying, I mean. I'm not without my charm, I'm sure, and I'm definitely willing and interested, so I've - in a very roundabout way, circumnavigated, you see - wondered if it's because you don't want to." A little shrug.
"Honest hypotheticals only, no hard feelings. And also if there are no hard feelings."
If he catches her drift.
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He pauses for a moment, letting silence swallow the small tent. Some of the edge eases off of his expression, the line of his mouth a little softer.
"I didn't want you to assume that after everything you've already done, that I was taking advantage of the situation, I suppose. It wouldn't be an unfair thing to suppose, even if untrue. Vampires aren't exactly a trustworthy sort."
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"And I do like to let someone's prove themselves trustworthy as an individual rather than go by baseless, biased opinions written of their whole race, by some bard in a book. I mean, you've met Volo."
There's a change in her expression again, from that roll of her eyes about Volo to something softer. Soft and warm, like the candlelight in the tent. "I trust you."
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Isn't it?
"Then trust that you won't want to be as gracious with the rest of my kind. You'd be better off trusting the devil on our tail," he replies with huff, one hand lifting to wave dismissively. "Thankfully, or perhaps regrettably, hanging around with you degenerates is beginning to have an effect on me."
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"Oh, for gods' - I'm trying to say I like you," she snaps, having apparently reached the end of her tether. A pity she chooses her tent, while not even wear a goddamn breast band under her flimsy robes, as the spot to lose her patience. She sucks in a breath, and exhales, pressing her palms together.
"I'm sorry, that was...abrupt. I am not very good at this, I know." A pause, after which she gestures at him. "I know because you've told me, actually. Please let's forget all that awkward outburst."
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Far from looking alarmed at the outburst, Astarion almost looks amused. It really is too easy to wind her up, sometimes.
"So. That being the case! Perhaps we put a pin in this particular conversation until you're well enough to do something about it, mm?" His brows arch, that devilish smirk crossing his lips once more. "A night we could arrange for...a little more privacy, perhaps."
Given that she probably just announced her feelings to anyone in the camp standing within thirty feet.
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"Ow - fair point."
She did just announce her feelings in an outburst - typical. By the morning, Karlach is going to start waggling her eyebrows at her, and Lae'Zel might offer - oh, shudder - seduction tips fit for a githyanki. Privacy seems like an impossible luxury for either of them, here.
"In the Shadow Cursed Lands?" she asks, managing to sound amused and sarcastic. So, like Astarion.
Still, what's the rush? It's not like they're going to die tomorrow. There's so much still to do - finding their way into Moonrise Towers and freeing the tieflings (if they find them), and whatever Raphael wants from him, and breaking the curse...
"Alright," she admits, after a moment of feeling dizzy by the sheer amount of Things To Do. "Yes - pinned. We'll consider it pinned. Will you still travel with me, tomorrow?"
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For a moment, it almost seems like things have gone back to normal. But before he departs, the elf tilts his head at Hermione consideringly. Appreciatively, even. Then he smiles, flashing fang once more.
"Get your rest," he murmurs softly. "You're certainly going to need it."
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"Astarion?" she calls out softly, a flutter of nerves in her throat. "This is going to be - maybe this will be silly, and you can say it, but if you wanted to, if you were amenable to it, I would - do you want a hug?"
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"Oh, you are precious. Sleep tight."
But there's a stiffness in his voice under the casual dismissal, before he slips out of her tent and back into the night.
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With me, apparently, if I'm lucky. A wave of heat rushes through her, she gets all flustered and shoves her face in her hands for a moment, burying a silent scream against her palms.
"What a mess."
She's going to set the wine aside, cork it and put it in her chest, then burrow under blankets and sleep. She falls asleep thinking of where she could possibly find somewhere with privacy for them, anywhere here.
In the morning, that takes not the frontline of her concerns, due to mostly lack of time. She stubbornly ignores Karlach's cheeky grins, and asks Lae'Zel to help Karlach with selling their wares as soon as the githyanki woman sits down next to Hermione at breakfast and attempts to explain how she conquered god's favourite little princess.
("Your mouth will be your biggest asset - "
"Oh my gods, all of my gods, please go help Karlach?")
With those two dispatched towards Last Light's quartermaster, she gathers Astarion (as promised) and Halsin and Shadowheart and they head out to find Thaniel's spirit.
Which takes the whole damn day, or what feels like it. But gods, it feels like a victory, coming back and setting Thaniel to rights, and coming a step closer to healing this land.
"Kinda feels great, doesn't it? Potentially saving the day," she asks Astarion later in the evening, as they walk back towards camp.
Is she going to point out that there's a nice little corner of woods they could steal away to and... talk? No, not yet.
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Tart sarcasm aside, the shudder he gives is almost genuine.
"I'm all for the dark and the shadows, but this place makes even my skin crawl."
Still, they'd done something allegedly to the common good, and Hermione and Halsin seemed pleased enough with their efforts. It's progress forward, in a way. Patience will provide something a little more substantial, hopefully.
But he's fairly certain there's a glint in Hermione's eye as they walk. Something unsaid. It doesn't take an intelligence score the level of Gale's to know what might be on her mind, and he smirks quietly in the dark.
"But, perhaps reason enough to...celebrate."
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The victory of the day is putting some pep in her step, making her forget her injuries from last night and feel closer to an actual victory against the Absolute. It suffuses her with optimism.
Could they truly have fixed this land? Broken the curse? Halsin is optimistic too, and has promised to keep her updated as soon as Oliver and Thaniel are reunited.
So, there's some time. It feels like there's some time.
"I think we've earned a little celebration," she admits, glancing sideways at him before smiling. "I don't think we finished your wine, if you'd still like to."
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As though he had any interest at all in the wine. But there are rituals to observe, in this sort of matter.
"Then why don't we wait for things to quiet down some and we can find somewhere secure to enjoy ourselves? We're not exactly anywhere terribly inviting, but we could make do."
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"I'm sure we can get creative," she plays along, with a slight smirk. "You've seen my impressive command of cantrips, after all." Everything can be lit well, everything can be cleansed, and every broken thing can be mended. She'd make a very good domestic witch, if she were not such a powerhouse with a Fireball.
"What did you have in mind?"
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Four walls in a place like this? Worth its weight in gold. It certainly wouldn't do to have any intimate entanglements interrupted by some spooky busybody looking for fresh victims. Certainly would set the pulse racing, though, if he still had such a thing.
Hermione, however, might not appreciate the scare as much.
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But the cellar of Last Light is empty and tucked away, and they cleared it of all those beastlies. They would need to sneak in.
"We'll need to sneak in," she says conspiratorially, but still smiling - a genuine smile, as her excitement grows. "Our own little side-quest, mm?"
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He chuckles, gesturing grandly with one hand before letting it settle at his side once more.
"And if it's sneaking you want, you couldn't have chosen better."
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The struggles of a wizard. She is dexterous, fairly so, but Astarion is just better. She's been asking him to follow her along on every adventure because Hermione Granger has never met a locked door she hasn't wanted to open.
"If we find a locked chest, I promise to applaud. Write stories of your clever fingers."
How that sounds sinks in a second later, and she blushes what she reckons might be beet red at this point. Time to move along - time to move on.
"We'll make it out of here, I'm sure of it." She'll make sure of it. "We'll make it out, we'll see the city again, and find a cure for these little wormlings in our heads. Eh, sorry, I realise talking about the tadpoles is not the most romantic of topics."
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As nimble in conversation as he is with his fingers, Astarion cocks his head in thought.
"Once they're out of our heads...what's the first thing you'll do?" He has his own ideas, of course, but it's better to look forward to all the wonderful things they have to look forward to.
Like revenge. That's probably highest on his list at the moment, in truth, but he's wise enough not to say so out loud.
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She rushes past that little sliver of self-doubt. (What is her purpose if she can't be of help to her friends? Even her school friends lost interest in her after they recovered the Tower from under Riddle's control, because they wanted to move on with their magical studies and Hermione wanted to change things.)
Karlach will need her help, Hermione refuses to let the tiefling be forced to return to the Hells, there must be a better way, maybe if they find a better artificer? And Wyll, she promised she'd help him exit his contract with Mizora, and Gale - oh, Gale, there's much to help him with - and she can sum it all up.
"I think I'll keep travelling. I like the adventure, to be sure, but I enjoy helping people more - but okay, that's not my final answer. Final answer, as soon as the tadpoles are out of our heads, I'm taking a three-hour long bubble bath."
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Wry amusement touches his lips, even as he rolls his eyes and gestures loosely in the direction that Baldur's Gate must lie. They're getting closer and closer every day, and he's trying not to think about that winding ball of anxiety in the pit of his stomach at the idea.
"Alas that we'll have to make do, for now."
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"It's a good thing we're both good at improvising," she jokes back, her voice a little on the wry side.
Her expression softens as she spots the campsite in the distance, and she brushes the back of her fingers over his knuckles - touch, gentle and casual, easy as breathing.
"I'm going to help the others with dinner," she says, "but... Find me, when they've gone to sleep?"
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