A soft breeze wisped through the air, twisting around the defective black and white strands of Tava’s hair. The wind carried with it the scent of late summer sky, sweet berries and mossy springs, tinged with the metallic smell of blood.
Tava’s breathing grew ragged and she thrusted her hands into the fast flowing creek beneath her kneeling form. She rubbed her fingers, watching as the congealed blood washed away, coloring the clear water pink.
Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood.
Blood pouring from Alfira’s frail body. Blood dripping into her eyes, crusting in her hair. Blood spilling from Alfira’s mouth, choking out the screams that threatened to escape.
Something in the back of Tava's mind screamed in elated joy at the memories. The tadpole, she thought. No, this was wholly hers, something twisted and mangled within her heart that she had forgotten about.
Tava shuddered, her skin was feverish, palmy and sticky with heat as if doused in fresh life ichor.
Her head pounded as she dunked her hands into the stream again, trying to rid herself of the phantom gore sticking to her fingers.
Warm droplets of water splashed onto her face, dripping down her neck, just like how the sticky juices of Alfira's guts were clinging to her just hours before.
Over and over and over and over and over, Tava threw her hands into the water, rubbing and scraping her skin raw. In her frenzy, she sliced herself on the edge of a sharp rock embedded in the soil.
Dark blood oozed from the wound but Tava was beyond caring. What was another drop of blood in an ocean? There was laughter in the back of her mind. The tadpole? Hers? The dark thing in her head cackled harder at her confusion.
There were soft footsteps in the distance, getting closer and closer.
Her blood thrummed.
Leaves rustled, crunching under footfall.
There was still mad laughter in her head. Inescapable.
Snap goes the crack of a branch, the noise close by. Too close.
Tava leapt, tearing the sharp rock from soil and pouncing in the direction of her intruder.
“What in the hells!-”
They slammed together, hard enough to rattle Tava's skull, and tumbled into the dirt. The attacker yelped, scrambling to get away, but she was faster, acting on animalistic instincts. Tava struck, nearly feral, wrestling them to the ground.
She swung her legs over them, pushing down their prone form with her knees. An awful ringing filled her ears as she raised the blade-like rock upward.
Yesyesyesyesyes-
Wild, panicked red eyes locked onto hers as the knife plunged down, towards the pale expanse of the intruder's throat.
“Astarion?!” Tava's mind snapped back to some semblance of sanity. In a split second, she wrestled with the blade in her hand, thrusting it from its deadly trajectory.
She followed the downward movement, panting with adrenaline as the rock embedded itself deep into the soil, mere slivers away from Astarion's neck.
“f*ck! Godsdammit!” Fear rattled in Tava’s throat. She’d come so close to killing Astarion, just like how she murdered Alfira. Only, she didn’t know if she had the strength to live with Astarion’s death on her conscience.
Tava fell limp, slumping over the vampire's prone form. Her breaths fanned across his cheek in short bursts. A drop of water fell from her unruly hair onto his face.
“Well…hello to you too.” The vampire was glib as ever, he raised a quivering eyebrow, expression sardonic. Tava clambered off of where she was straddling him. Her body shook, but she was in control now. Just barely.
“What are you doing here?” Tava's breathing slowed as she dragged herself back over to the stream. Astarion followed.
“No, no, no, no! More like what in the hells are you doing? Attacking innocent strollers in the forest, who was only looking for you, I might add!” His voice pitched, indignant.
Tava winced. She cradled her bloodied palm in her lap, finally feeling the sting of the wound.
“You caught me at a bad time. I was…thinking?” She ducked her head in shame when the statement came out like a question.
“Oh really? Thinking is it? About what? The best ways to send a vampire to hell?!”
Tava rolled her eyes, she swiped her hand through the stream, flicking the water clinging to her fingertips in Astarion's face. Her lips lifted in a smile as he contorted in offense.
Then she sobered, remembering why she came to be at the side of this stream in the first place.
Tava turned away.
“I was thinking about Alfira.”
She felt the roll of his eyes and the judgment wafting off of him in waves even without seeing it. It stung worse than normal.
“Really? That little brat? It was the tadpole's fault. Why waste another thought on her, when thoughts are already in short supply with these worms in our brains. She won't be missed.”
Tava tensed at his flippant tone. The insidious thing living within her whispered that he was right.
“Are you truly that heartless or are you simply pretending?” Tava turned, staring into his eyes and watching as the shock descended on his face. Astarion sneered.
“I'm a vampire, darling, heartless is in the description.” He brought up a hand to inspect the state of his nails.
Guilt, shame, and anger swirled in the pit of Tava's stomach. She leaned forward, pushing into Astarion's space.
“You- Don't you understand?-” A frustrated groan snuck past her lips. “It was my fault. I killed her and she was innocent. I took a life and I wasn’t even in control of myself.”
Her breaths grew ragged, she blinked rapidly, trying to dispel images of bloodshed from her vision, hot tears sprung in her eyes.
Tava was burning with anger. Anger at Astarion’s callousness. Anger at her own weakness.
It felt a lot like fear.
Tava seized the collar of Astarion's shirt, trying to peer into his eyes, to find a crack in his demeanor.
Her voice grew soft, shaking. Almost pleading.
“Don't- Don't you ever…regret?” Pathetic. The voice in her head hissed, then dissipated.
The silence stretched, filled by the babbling of the flowing stream beside them.
Something in Astarion's eyes shifted, a light reflected in his blood-red pupils.
He darted out his tongue to wet his lips.
“I have.” He paused, her own uncertainty mirrored on his face. “And I know what it’s like not to have control over your own body. It’s…unpleasant.”
The vampire trailed off, his words falling short as if he forcibly bit them away.
For the first time, Tava saw Astarion, the real one. The Astarion that was vulnerable, fearful, composed of jagged, sharp edges, instead of the smooth and polished facade he wore like a second skin.
A sigh of relief escaped her lips. She released the ruffles of his shirt from her desperate clutch.
Leaning back, Tava tilted her head to the sky, exposing the expanse of her throat. He understood. Perhaps he was the only one that could.
Something in their very nature demanded bloodshed and violence. Their survival came at the cost of the lives of so many others. A shared burden, dark and ancient, hovered in the air between them. A thousand sins to atone, a thousand penances yet to be served.
When she next spoke, the words tore from her as if they had been waiting to be unleashed.
“I want to be good.”
It was a vow, stronger than any she had ever made and will ever make.
It tasted like ashes in her mouth and burnt her lips as it left, but the fog in her mind parted. It was the first true, clear thought she had.
“You already are.” Astarion replied, gone was the frills and flirtation that often embellished his speech.
She turned to him, her eyes narrowed.
“You're lying.”
“There are plenty of other things to lie about. This isn't one of them. Sometimes you are so kind, it's nauseating.” He rolled his eyes, but the smirk that fell on his face was more genuine than she expected from him.
“Really?”
“It was especially sickening when you saved that gnome from the goblins, he never even gave us anything in return! Or the time you saved that child from those harpies.” Astarion made a wretching noise, his face full of disdain. “It turns the stomach just thinking of it.”
“If I didn't know any better, I might've said you were trying to cheer me up.”
The vampire groaned, he kicked up water from the stream, the water droplets caught Tava as they rained down.
“Never. Now shut up already and let me take a look at that cut on your hand.”
“And now you're nursing me back to health?” Tava relinquished her hand to him.
She felt saner than she had in hours, days, possibly her whole life.
“Maybe you do have a heart after all. Like a doting grandmother.”
“No one will stop the others from killing me in my sleep if you drop dead. See? Another horribly good decision. Letting me live. ”
When Astarion grabbed her wrist, there was still the bloody weight of Alfira's death and a million unknown others bearing down upon her hand.
But this burden was shared, halved for the moment. It gave her hope that one day it might become light enough to forgive.
And hope was the most dangerous delusion of them all.
