The Rise of The Second Born Bard

The party had arrived bloodied and beaten. The body of a cold and limp Tav had been placed gently at Whither’s feet. The skeleton was at work for longer than one would consider comfortable for the situation. From the second they crashed back into camp, Wither’s was unable to guarantee a successful reunion. Something was a miss, but none would hear it.

“Dammit, man, you can’t tell me there isn't a shard of this soul's light left somewhere; I won’t hear it!” 

The wizard’s voice almost broke before dropping his head. Withers stood still in all-knowing calmness, giving a heavy sigh as it granted a wide berth to the wizard's mounting rage. A low growl began to form words, from a dead language that bore a dark resemblance to Draconic. It spilled forth from his throat, sounding like a wounded beast out for blood. A piercing shaft of amethyst colored light radiated from the scar from behind torn robes. It glowed bright as if it could melt skin off bone. Shadowheart watched in a brief moment of awe as Gale began his attempts to call the wild dark power to a heel and use it. Inspired by his will, she would take vigil, prayers to her dark mistress would not go unheard today. Her focus unwavering, she held her might at the ready for whatever he may unleash. Astarion looked on, dizzy, barely healed, left searching for any memory of how they made it back. The dark incantations from a once unassuming wizard made him feel ill. Then the body came into his view, and it all came flooding back. The fight, they were losing, when he collapsed into unconsciousness. The last of the bard's words crept back into his mind in Tav's soft, naive, now haunting voice. "I've got you."  He released the cloak from his shoulders, crumpling it into something soft to place the fool's head. He raised it gently, placing it on top of the bloody fabric. Staring at the placid face, he brushed hair away from their closed eyes. They wouldn’t want anything in them when they opened. 

“They will open again, they will.” The pale elf would mutter over and over like a prayer for mercy until Shadowheart touched his arm. He recoiled, 

“Don’t touch me…” With that spark of outrage, the smell of blood became heavy, filling his nose to near drowning. The realization of just how weak he had become manifested by way of the stabbing pain of hunger that ran through him like a rapier, chest to spine. His red eyes burned, forced to retreat from the body before he succumbed to fear and hunger, he brushed past her, turning a back on the body, needing to put distance between himself and blood-soaked ground.

“Does it normally take this long?” 

The tiefling's mouth was turned towards the warlock watching on alongside, but her eyes were fixed on the hypnotic pacing of a very on-edge vampyre spawn, stalking like a caged Displacer Beast back and forth…

“Not sure, I’ve never seen that kind of magic use before.” 

Wyll looked on with concern. Gale’s will seemed possessed, conjuring some kind of dark mass. Hoping whatever it was the wizard was up to would be worth it, they watched on, willing some kind of life to manifest. Wyll’s frustration rose as helplessness set in; his fingers grabbed at the absent scabbard he was so used to keeping at his side. He wanted answers. 

“What happened out there, Astarion? What in the hell’s is Gale getting up to?” 

The elf's body came to an abrupt halt. They both could see every muscle twitch beneath the leather armor along his back. The springs had been cranked and needed only the slightest of hair triggers to be unleashed. Wyll almost stepped up, raising a hand to grab at Astarion’s shoulder before Karlach blocked his path.

“Whoa there, think it’s best to go easy with that one, ya Blade? Obviously, it was a shit show, and who the fuck even cares what happened? All that matters is everyone made it back. We just need to get Tav healed up, right, Astarion?” 

Her voice wavered at the end. Astarion unclenched his teeth. Suddenly, holding on to the anger in such a weakened state became exhausting and not worth the warlock's blood. Instead, he simply gave Wyll his answer. 

“They, they saved me?” He threw a withering glance over his shoulder even though Karlach could hear a slight tremor in his words.

 

      Cameron gasped for air; it was blindingly bright, and their vision was blurred. Coughing and hacking, they tried to remember how to breathe in what felt like the first time in a moment far too long to go without air. They rolled to their side, pulling heavy limbs together in order to get to their hands and knees. Tears cooled the burning of their blurred vision. They could feel bile rise to their throat as a San Fran Special rolled its way through their skull. They could only make out random, muffled noise that may have been voices... 

Sirens, no animals… Fuck, where am I? Why couldn’t I breathe before? What happened to make my head feel like it had just been bashed in? 

They dug one hand into the ground, trying to hold on before the earth flung them off again. The worst hangover could not compare; this was more like getting hit by a truck. In between gasps and trying to wipe away tears, shadows began to close in around them. The ringing in their ears gave way to fuzzy bursts of sound made of different tones and migraine-inducing pitches, but still, they couldn't distinguish friend from foe, up or down. They closed their eyes as hard as they could, digging fingers deeper into the dirt, if they could only will the planet from spinning so fucking fast. They tried to concentrate on the muffled tones amidst the buzzing and screeches, something, anything familiar. Finally, a rhythmic purr poured down their ear canal. A possible voice? They focused on it as they caught their breath. It was then that they felt a hand resting on their back between their shoulders. The purr drifted in and out of fuzzy bursts. They. lost it for a moment, folding in two, trying not to vomit up the entirety of their insides. When the nausea passed and with nothing else terrible happening, they tried to let go of the panic and let what seemed like safety settle in its place. A dry ice chill crept and clung to their skin, burning it, only to be washed away by a wave of warmth slowly wrapping around them. It spread, and they stopped shaking for the first time. 

Shit, had I been shaking this whole time? The bad connection in their ears started to filter out as they could almost make out words. 

“..av, ..av ca..  ..u ..ar me?” 

The nightingale took shape in a woman’s voice. It made its way through the chaos; there was something pure and steady about it now. Relief was setting in. The hand on their back must have belonged to this voice. 

“.re .ehy al…ht?” 

The cat’s purr was closer, but cautious to approach. They shook their head a little; the symphonic warm-up was coming to a hush. Breathing slowly with purpose, flexing fingers, and feeling sensation come back to them, they pulled themselves up, chest first, stacking their vertebrae one on top of the other, till they were rested on their heels, knees dug into the soft earth beneath them. They let their head fall back and roll between their shoulders. Opening their eyes to a crystal blue sky above, they could smell water nearby as mountains and trees filled the periphery of their vision. The air around them was cool and made the wet shift of a shirt cling to their skin. They rested their hands on top of thighs clad in leather pants that felt like a second skin. Their head dropped quickly, finally taking stock of the body. Something felt off, but they couldn't see what. Whose clothes were they wearing? 

The purr gave way to a clear and demanding voice, tugging at their ear. They knew it, but something about it, being so near, didn’t seem right. 

"God’s! Finally, a sign of life.” Astraion quickly wiped his face, brushing the sentimentality aside. “Just a bit over dramatic if you ask me.” 

They closed their eyes tight, rolling their shoulders, feeling the blood rush back to their skin caused a shudder to run through them, and a sneer flared.

Dramatic? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?                      

They slowly brought their head back to the center, one more full breath before opening their eyes, ready to confront this fractious stray. Still on their knees, they looked up to a crown of fair hair, framing garnet colored eyes, set in an alabaster face, held high above a perfectly poised exterior. Their mind raced as a new reality was taking shape before their newborn eyes, where fantasy and reality were colliding. Their eyes narrowed as a horse chuckle escaped before blurting out. 

“You?” 

Their voice was scratchy with the feelings of trying to swallow sand while attempting to speak again, but it was too weak. Still, a badly needed anchor was cast with one simple word. They were in their own skin, not a dream, not dead; though their body might claim otherwise, but this, here, with him?  

His brow arched, insulted, “ and just who else would you be expecting?” 

He moved with nearly a sound, his hand stretched out to them. They hesitated before reaching out and taking it. The pale elf helped pull them to their feet, shoulder to shoulder, his face inches away, every detail there for them to take in. They couldn’t help themselves; overwhelmed, they would answer him in nothing more than a whisper, it was all they could muster. 

“Nobody." They dropped their eyes; their voice was weak, and this is not the way they would want this to go down. Is this really happening? They looked back up at Astarion's face, inches away. Holy shit. I'm going fucking crazy. He waited for an answer; there was only one they could give: "Of course it's you." 

The brow lowered, and the cheshire curled his mouth, letting the moment hang. Relief washed away the hunger for a moment, pride taking over, welcoming the unabashed compliment; he enjoyed watching color rush back to their face, knowing he put it there.

“You should go slowly, just for now, the wounds are taking longer to mend than normal.” 

The nightingale was at their side. Her voice was warm but guarded as always. They smiled softly, wanting to reach out and touch her face, but they knew better. Green blue eyes smiled up at them through a silky curtain of raven-winged colored hair. Her hand slid to the middle of their back again. They suddenly realized they were being supported by both. Whatever had happened, they were still very weak, as they would discover when trying to take a step. The feeling of a knee buckling gave way for them to stumble. They wouldn’t get far, feeling the inhuman reflex of Astarion tightening his grip kept them on their feet. They had no idea fingers could be or feel that strong.

“It may be side effects from the resurrection. I’m sure it takes more than mere seconds for the weave to fully bind the soul back to a body.” 

Gale reached for their wrist and held two fingertips firmly against their pulse. A soft, reassuring smile made its way across his very weary face, trying to hide a wince of pain as he took up his duty. He took great efforts to avoid looking in their direction, keeping focus on the small hourglass in his other hand. They looked about themselves from one face to the next, all familiar, including the single-horned Tiefling burning with the heat of the hottest summers they could remember. She radiated, clenched fists at her hips, trying to keep her distance and composure even though the voice gave her away. 

“Hey, soldier, had us scared there for a second.” They couldn’t help but smile. Who could ever say no to that face? 

“Just a second hu?” They managed to croak it out, which made her smile even brighter. It was a good sign.

“Not my fault, you're shit with timing.” 

They chuckled, and an ache in their chest caught, making them hack. There was a moment of worry as she stepped forward, but her eyes met with Astarion’s, garnets flashing a warning and reminder. She couldn’t help, no matter how badly she wanted to. She nodded and looked back to them.

 “Looks like you're in some pretty good hands. Best get some rest, ya, we still got plenty of evil motherfuckers to take care of out there.” 

The environment around them started to fall into focus as they watched her walk, then lightly skip back to her tent. There was a small beach behind them, a short path just ahead, giving way to a circle of tents and camp fire. 

“You must be the bravest of souls, I am sure of it.” The best amongst them, a devil gentleman and fighter of the people, calling them the bravest? 

 “Lucky.” It came out sounding more like uky, but Wyll shook his head; he did not find that an acceptable answer. 

“Time will tell about it being lucky, I think.” His glance shifted to Gale; there was a hint of suspicion in his eye before he turned to catch up with Karlach; a giant white dog ran up to greet him as he reached the fire. Again, their attention was drawn away from attempts to focus. What was that look all about?

“Ah, yes, and there we are. A much stronger heartbeat. Think it’s safe to say you are on the mend.” The words were kind but formal. 

Gale's hold slipped from the writs to their hand, catching fingers. His thumb gently grazed across their knuckles before giving a slight bow, relinquishing their hand to take his leave. Shadowheart squeezed their arm one last time, urging them to start taking on their own weight. She would wait for them to stand on their own before following Gale's lead. They could feel a small pang when she let go. She smelled like tobacco flowers and honeysuckle. A tickle at his side pulled them back to the moment at hand, technically in his hand, still… There they were, supported at Astarion’s side. He still had their hip in the vice of his fingers, and it felt like it was leaving a mark.

In a horse whisper,  “Think I should try a bit on my own now?” 

Suddenly, they were left on their own feet, as he dropped his grip, slinking back like a cat confronted by a loathsome dog. Shaking it off with a vain chin flick, he stood back and pretended not to be interested, but still on the balls of his feet, just in case. 

“Yes, well, I suppose that is that then. I just hope you're not so stupid as to do anything that ridiculous in the future.” 

They found their feet and proceeded to stretch their limbs back into place. He watched as the blood-drenched shirt clung to their body. He could feel an itch above his canines. They rolled their tongue across their teeth under lips, gaining feeling to their face, making sure the next time they opened their mouth, something would be there; they cleared their throat.

“I’m sorry, but what did happen, exactly?” 

It was a biting tone he hadn't heard from them before. His face twisted with suspicion, then concern.

 “You mean… You really don’t remember?...”  

He let his words drop off. They waited for him to finish, but nothing was coming. 

 “Remember how I died?” Their voice was coming back, and they intended to use it, “I’m guessing that’s what happened, fucking feels like that’s what happened?” They waited, looking at him directly. “Nope, not ringing a bell hu?” 

A twinge made them flinch as a muscle spasm convulsed in their temple. Images of a bloody fight were happening all around. Goblins flooded from over a partial wall, as a roar rolled from up above. The voice of a drow commanded the will of righteous anger down. There was a violent shock that ran through the body, something wet gushed down its chest, blood flooded from the body. Consciousness proceeded to fade in and out, with one last flash of their own face rushing towards the body, covering it as another strike from a lightning bolt ricocheted from the ceilings of the ruins. Blackness took over completely, and the connection was broken. 

They had just seen a memory, and it wasn’t theirs. The tadpole… The pressure passed quickly, and they looked to Astarion for answers, but were unable to find his gaze. They saved him, well, not them, but the imposter who sure as hell looked a lot like them. It started to make some sense now.

“I suppose I should be grateful, although I never asked for your help in the first place. You know you really are becoming a rather infuriating being.” 

His self-loathing seeped, and he did as he always did, weaving it into anger and deflected it onto the nearest victim at hand. Forcing his face to twist in an ugly, disapproving snarl, he turned his back on them. Taking a moment to collect himself away from the sight of a blood-covered Tav, it was all too tempting. He shifted his weight and crossed his arms, composing himself to think on his next move. 

He shouldn’t let them get under his skin like that. It was weak; then again, he shouldn’t have lashed out either, if he wanted to get what he needed from them. 

They took the opportunity of being out from under the spawn's gaze to collect themselves and actually take an assessment of their circumstances. The next words out of their mouth could set so many things into motion, if, and it was a really big fucking IF, this was everything it seemed to be? Baulders, The Grove, either way, they were pretty fucking certain; there was no save button this time. As their mind raced, trying to calculate the possible outcomes of their first instinct responses, they got distracted by a chill twisting amongst their fingers. They saw what looked like a dark mist taking shape where the chill lingered. They looked up from across them to where Astrarion had been standing. 

Fuck! 

The shadow grew, and a hand passed through, grasping the top of their wrist in a firm but gentle grip. Slowly, it was wrapped up and behind their back. A leg stepped through, then hips, inevitably, rib touched rib. They stood frozen when, out of the corner of their eye, his cold marble fingers flew past their vision and brushed against their cheek. His face leaned in from the darkness, filling up the rest of the limited visible space. They were in the center of a swirling shadow that concealed them both. Breathing the same breath, he could see and hear the pounding excitement along the heaving artery of their neck. The tickle turned to a tinge as his incisors ached; he needed to feed and soon. 

No harm in playing a little bit with his potential dining guest. He’d convinced them before; he would do it again. 

Brushing his face past theirs, till they felt his nose graze an ear.

 “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I honestly, I don’t know what I would have done if...” 

They could feel his mouth and breath lingering near their ear as icy fingertips rested lightly on their throat. He pulled their arm tighter against their back, pressing them into his chest. They were fully engulfed in shadow now, alone, with him. A flurry filled the space as it felt like they might fall again. The vice had reclaimed them. The words screaming in their mind caught in their throat, coming out more of a whimper than the command they hoped for, “This isn’t happening.” He heard them, but it would not change his intentions. He was relentless as brushes from what felt like moth wings worked a path from their ear to their jaw and across the cheek. The wings would touch upon every centimeter of their skin till he reached his destination. 

They forgot everything when he kissed them. It was softer than anything they had imagined capable from the brat prince. Moth wings continued to dance and entice for their lips to part. They stood dumb struck, eyes wide. Firm soft lips pressed against theirs, and they melted, letting their eyes close, giving in to his gentle coaxing, till it started to build. His dragging canines against their bottom lip provided the warning, as a flash of sanity broke them free of his seduction. No matter what the intention he had in the moment, the kiss was not for them, though they doubt it mattered to him. They needed to get back some kind of control, with instinct as their guide. Gently, they dug their own teeth into his lip. He took a sharo inhale, feeling them hold his lip between their teeth, quelling the onslaught of hunger threatening to devour. He slowly set their arm free, as their teeth dragged and released his lip. Something had changed, something that made hairs stand on end down his neck and spine, but he would not let them get away with it that easily. His shot back out like a bolt, applying the vice to their side. Fucking seriously again with the hip? They watched the darkness fall to the ground around them both. They were no longer near the beach; he’d mistied them to a cliffside just outside of camp. They hated the fact that they were becoming far too familiar with the feeling of his fingers' impressions burning into their skin, they could feel it getting tighter, and it sent a quiver across thier lower lower back, crossing over there cheeks calfs and makeing the toes spasm. He was about to pull them in again. They could not let that happen.

“Wait! Wait, wait fuck… I’m not the guy!!”  

Finally, their voice was back, a bit dry like they’d just dusted off a couple of smokes, but strong enough to set the elf to a standstill. He let them go and stood back. There was something not right about the voice or the biting of his lip. Tav was never this… challenging. The face was soft, but something about their eyes, sharper, darker? 

“Not that I wouldn’t love to dive right back into the divinity that are your lips… but!”

He raised a brow and let the cheshire slip back to one corner of his mouth. After all, they weren’t wrong. Keeping a cool and calm exterior, he stepped back, but kept his arms loose at his side, meaning he was ready, and they would have to proceed with caution.

“I got rules about that kind of engagement.” 

They stood straight, confident, supporting their own weight now, full control of their own body, which was strong and lean as before, but the way they stance they way they carried it?  

“You have to know who you’re dancing with.” 

The voice grew more and more… different; the accent was not from anywhere he could place. It was grittier; something about it was bold and unsettled him. They stood plainly in front of him, palms up, inviting inspection, unafraid. It pissed him off, arrogant little… They watched as suspicion slipped into his eyes, and then a flash of white overtook the garnet; realization set in. Coolly, coldly, he dropped his chin, eyes examining every inch of them now. 

“You’re not Tav.”

Without allowing him even a second to dwell and let accusations fly, they responded swiftly with a calm control to their voice, “Yes, you are absolutely right.” No raised tones, no decepion just truth.  His posture shifted the coils, tightening. Their hands were still palms up, and they locked eyes with him. They were darker; Astrion could see them fully now. How could he have ever mistaken them for Tav? Dark eyes, not green, hooded and piercing. They were standing taller and, worst of all, confidently. 

“My name is Cameron, or Cam works too, I mean, if it's easier? I don’t know what happened to your friend. I don’t even know how I got here.” 

Their eyes darted about his face; he was gaunt, the eyes were tired, he needed to feed, and this could go very badly, very quickly if they didn’t make him feel at ease and fast. 

“I will answer any questions you have, any of you have, but I need to get a few of my own answers first.” 

He recalled the first encounter w/ Tav. Charming much like this one, but more innocent, naive perhaps? This one knew what they were doing. How in the hells did he not see those eyes before now? Granted, he was hungry and not as focused on their face at the time as their throat. Still, they were dark and deep, and watching every move he made. Their palms still up, they had moved in a bit closer, and he could begin to smell them. 

“Stop right there, I think we are both very well aware, I bite.” 

They stopped dead in their tracks; they knew an honest warning when they heard one. 

“Camreon, is it?”  

They nodded, keeping still, but breathing was steady and relaxed. 

“Yes, well, as lovely as our tasty little moment was, I think it best you walk away and find whatever answers you need while I go find something to rip to shreds.”  

The mist swirled up around him, and he vanished into the dark shadow again, leaving them alone. They stood there with a wash of relief, overwhelme setting in and it was all they could do, they started laughing at the madness that had just paraded itself through their path. Till they looked around and remembered where he had left them. 

“Such an asshole, great, how the fuck do I get down from here?”