beneath the shadows where you never had to matter

[Astarion Ancunín]

The camp's fuller than usual. And so is your heart. You can't quite say what it is that makes you feel - good. But it's there. It's rich. it's all consuming. Is this what being a good person is like? Is this how you're supposed to feel? Instead of burdened by guilt. Self-hatred taking in your every second of the day, consuming you all together until there's nothing left but a miserable piece of shit.

Maybe your existence isn't a bad - oh, who are you trying to kid here?

While everyone's enjoying themselves you've decided to stay holed up in your space. Sitting on a bit of fabric with a bottle of wine in your hand that tastes bitter like vinegar but does what it's supposed to. You think. Maybe it's not the alcohol that makes you feel so warm and cozy inside. Maybe it's all the laughter. Maybe it's bright smiles and an endless see of horned heads. Maybe - no, no, it's the alcohol for sure.

You can sense her come closer. Not lifting your head just yet. Taking another sip. Only looking at her when you've swallowed the vile fluid down.

Astarion

This feels unusual.

And before she can wonder what exactly it is you're going on about.

Astarion

To be the one they toast to. I never thought I'd see myself in that position. (brief pause) Or to save that many lives.

But you did it. You saved those lives. You're the reason people get to laugh, to love, to live tonight. This is new for you, a man who only knows how to take live; to be the reason one does end and another extends.

[Imzhora Moonsong]

You hesitate but you approach him nonetheless, at last, while everyone else is drinking, some already drunk. You have talked to Shadowheart briefly before while she was sipping on some wine, now she is talking to Shiva right in front of her tent. They seem to have a casual conversation; one that makes Shadowheart's eye almost light up a bit.
Everyone else is mostly busy, so you tell yourself there is nothing else left to do other than talk to Astarion - who is sitting closely to his tent.

He talks before you can ask, before you can say anything at all. There is a slight frown forming on your forehead, and you think, silently to yourself, that he might not be used to saving lives. He did take them instead, as a vampire, for Cazador.

Imza

It's not that bad.

You tell him, tell yourself too. You have never been one to save lives, usually; always on the road, roaming the lands, but barely ever stopping for people in need. There are so many and you have so little time. But things have changed over the course of this month, with everyone else involved. With the tadpoles. The tieflings.

Imza

At least we got something out of it.

Killing goblins. Raiding their loot and their spoils.