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Tav felt the rich, cool dirt beneath her feet and focused on the vibrations of the world around her — vibrations from the earth, the wind, the music, and, most importantly, from the people. She could hear them, alright, loud and clear. All the tieflings, the druids, and her “tadpoled friends.” It was hard to discern who was who with all the noise and movement, but she didn’t have to worry too much about it for Astarion found her soon enough.
“Darling! Quick question: who the hells brought this wine?”
“How would I know?”
Astarion made a sound. “Oh, please, I saw you helping with the barrels!”
Tav wrinkled her nose. “I was helping because, apparently, there’s a total strength of zero among the men in this camp.”
“First of all, rude. Second of all, lying. I can lift Halsin — why are you laughing?!”
Tav wiped the fake tears from her eyes. “I don’t even need to see to know that’s a total lie. Halsin moves like a rock. I highly doubt you can even lift a boulder on your own, Princess.”
“More like I rather not, darling. And don’t call me Princess! It’s degrading.”
“Oh, and call you what?”
“Oh, I don’t know — how about we start with my goddamned name?”
“That’s so boring,” Tav sighed. “I can’t imagine you not looking like a princess, though. You sound so… regal.”
Astarion was silent for a few moments. Tav would’ve wondered if he was still there if it wasn’t for her innate ability to focus on the shift of his movements — faint, but there. Finally, he said: “Regal? Now I like that sound of that. Do go on, please.”
Tav raised a brow. “Self-absorbed much?”
“Curious, rather. Now go on!”
“Alright, alright — let me think.” She crossed her arms and tilted her head back in thought. She couldn’t quite picture Astarion in her head. There wasn’t anything to picture for she had never known colors or shapes. She had only ever known people — their breathing, their talking, their walking, and their touch, which was arguably more intimate than color. And she knew the world around her — the dirt, the trees, the flowers. If she really thought hard about then…
“You remind me of water,” Tav finally said.
“Water?!” Astarion exclaimed. “Ugh, how dull.”
“Do you want me to explain or not?”
A pause. “Fine,” he grumbled.
Tav smiled. “Water is… well, it sort of depends. Water is quiet. And you are still as the river. I can’t hear you coming, and I’m usually pretty good at that.”
“Sneaking is my forte, darling.” He sounded quite smug about it.
“Yeah, you’re great at it. But you’re also a force to be reckoned with, I’m sure. You’re the dam when the floodgates open; you’re the waterfall coming down the mountain; you are capable of gentleness as much as you are able to wield destruction. And it’s often a delicate balance to tread, but you tread it quite well I think.”
Moments of hearing Astarion talking to Scratch or reading to himself crossed her mind. It was those moments of peace and quiet, when he wasn’t the sardonic vampire or a bloodthirsty killer, that made her realize how multifaceted he was. He was like the water indeed, at least in her mind. Able to soothe and able to destroy. The relief of water after days of dehydration; the burn in your lungs as you drown.
Astarion was uncharacteristically still and quiet after that, then he laughed. “People usually tell me I’m beautiful and call it a day!” His tone was a bit dismissive, almost as if he couldn’t believe Tav — or wouldn’t dare to.
“Well, I wouldn’t know.” Tav shrugged. “But I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”
“Oh, darling, you can ask anyone in the camp right now!”
“Sure, but that’s not — there’s more to people than just their appearance.” Tav couldn’t help but feel frustrated. “I can’t judge you based on that. Now, hush. You asked for my opinion, and I gave it to you.”
“Yes, I suppose I did. I just didn’t expect that answer…” He trailed off, and Tav couldn’t help but feel embarrassed all of a sudden.
So she lightly punched him in the shoulder. “Yeah, well, whatever.”
“Ow, darling, really?”
“I didn’t even punch you that hard!”
“Your knuckles are made of steel!”
Tav cracked grin. “Heh, yeah, I guess they are. Years of monk training, what can I say?”
“Precisely!”
The conversation was easily swept under the rug after that. Tav, slightly embarrassed she gave Astarion such a deep and detailed answer, tried to erase it from her mind. She never opened herself up to people like that. It felt strange… and strangely liberating, even if Astarion didn’t react all that much to it. Or maybe he had, emotions displayed on his face, and she couldn’t see. Either way, she said what she said and she only slightly regretted it.
For some reason, Astarion sat by her for the rest of the night — even when person after person shyly approached Astarion for a drink or a dance or a… private “conversation.” Tav almost felt jealous no one approached her, but Astarion told her it was because of her “sour face.”
Oh well. She didn’t need anyone. She had Astarion, and that was alright.