Firelight
“Arabella, what were you thinking?! What if something happened to you?! What the hells got into you?!”
“I thought if I- I thought if we had the idol then they would talk to us- Mol said we have to look out for ourselves, so-”
“-That was very dangerous! Something could have happened to you! Stealing is wrong, we’ve told you that!”
The poor girl hangs her head, still sobbing from a mixture of fear and relief.
Despite their yelling, her parents embrace her, as if- if they held her tightly enough- nobody could ever take her from them again.
Her father looks up at Orochimaru as he comes back up the short stone staircase, tired eyes full of tears.
“Did you- are you the one who-”
Arabella nods, trying to put on a brave face for her rescuer.
Her father relinquishes her and throws himself on the ground in front of Orochimaru, prostrating himself in gratitude.
“Arabella is our world,” he breathes. “We’ve lost so much. If anything happened to her I don’t know what we would have done. I can’t thank you enough.”
“Get up,” Orochimaru says, with a bit more disdain than he ought to have done.
The man obeys, though he looks confused.
“Your daughter needs to be able to look up to you. Be strong. Keep your dignity- don’t bow to anyone.”
The man straightens up, taking the words to heart.
“O-of course. Thank you, again. We should get back with the others. Arabella-”
“Oh, right-”
The girl straighens up as well.
“Thank you,” she says.
Satisfied with himself, Orochimaru glances over his shoulder to watch the rest of the menagerie catch up with him.
“Nettie was a dead end,” Kisame says, sounding put out.
So. Still stuck with their uninvited guests for now.
What a pain. But, there’s still that so-called creche Lae’zel is so intent on finding. It’s sounding more and more like she’s their best bet at getting out of this situation sans tentacles.
Either that creche, or this Halsin person everyone keeps muttering about whenever Kagha is out of earshot.
He’ll worry about that soon. Right now he just needs a moment to breathe.
And he’ll eventually need to find that Zevlor character he’s supposed to talk to.
For now, his head hurts terribly (though he isn’t surprised about that). He should try to find something for the pain.
A hand grabbing at the hem of his shirt draws his attention away from that, though.
It’s a duo of those cute tiefling children- a red skinned one and a purple one, looking up at him with curiosity.
“Hey, you got a moment?”
Orochimaru raises an eyebrow at these strange children, wondering if he should indulge them.
He decides it wouldn’t do any harm.
It isn’t like the parasite in his head is going anywhere any time soon.
“I suppose I do.”
“Good. We got a question for you!”
“Oh? And what might that be?”
The boy child elbows the purple one in the ribs.
“This was your idea, Silfy. You ask him.”
“Wha- I uh-”
The child stammers, pulling at the back of her neck and flushing dark.
“We were just w-wondering- uh, are you a boy or a girl?”
“Eh?”
It takes a moment or two for the question to sink in, and another still for him to formulate a response.
It isn’t the first time he’s gotten that question, but it never gets any more off-putting to hear. Or any harder to answer.
“Does it matter?”
“We just wanna know.”
“I suppose I’m neither. If you really must know.”
“Wait, you can do that?!”
“I don’t see why you can’t.”
“How did you decide that?”
“I don’t know. I suppose I just did.”
“Is that why you look like that?”
“I guess so.”
(Even in a totally different world, it seems children are still prone to asking a thousand questions at a time.)
“I’m Mattis,” the one with crimson skin and dusty blue hair chimes in, a flash of mischief in his yellow eyes.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a burnished copper ring, holding it out toward him with a winning smile.
“Take this,” he says. “It’s lucky.”
Skeptical but curious, Orochimaru takes it- the metal is warm from being in his pocket, and clearly cheaply made. Astarion peers over his shoulder, wrinkling his nose in confusion.
The child pulls out a coin.
“Alright- call it. Heads or tails?”
“Tails?”
Mattis flips the coin, then catches it midair.
“Tails it is!” he declares, grinner wider still. “See? That’s what you get with just one of my lucky rings!”
Ah. A hustler- and not a very adept one at that.
Oh well. He’s still young, he has time to learn.
Hopefully before he runs into someone who doesn't find this quite as amusing as Orochimaru.
“What makes you so sure it’s lucky?”
“I just am- I’ve got loads of other cool stuff if you wanna take a look!”
“Hm? What would a child have that could be useful to me?”
“Oh, this and that. Just don’t ask me where I got it.”
It’s adorable just how cocky this boy is.
"Mmhmm. I'm afraid I don't have any money on me, so maybe I'll have to come back later."
"If you say so. You want some advice before you go? I'll give it for free."
"I suppose that depends on what advice you're trying to give me."
Mattis leans forward like he's imparting some great secret.
"If you're gonna stay around for awhile, you're gonna want to find some better clothes- you and your mates stick out like a devil in a snowstorm, you know."
Orochimaru figures he must, considering what everyone around them seems to be wearing. Unfortunately, he doesn't really have any money he'd purchase clothes with- or any idea where to buy them, for that matter.
"...I'll keep that in mind."
As he says that, he feels something brush up against his back, and turns around to see one of the tiefling children- the girl, Silfy-, caught red-handed trying to pickpocket him.
"What are you up to?" he asks Silfy, although he already knows.
The poor girl's eyes well up with tears, skinny shoulders shaking as she tries not to sob out loud.
"It seems Arabella isn't the only one around here with sticky fingers, eh?" Astarion remarks, folding his arms and fixing the child with a knowing stare.
"I- I'm-"
She turns toward Mattis, her voice cracking as she speaks.
"I can't do this anymore, Mattis!" she sobs.
"Oh, please get a hold of yourself," Orochimaru sighs, crouching down to be closer to eye level with the children. “Crying won’t fix anything.”
The poor girl looks ready to break down sobbing, and the tears seem genuine. He can’t help but feel sorry for her; Mattis must have put her up to it.
"I'm not angry. You didn't even manage to take anything, and I don't have anything on me worth taking, anyway."
Astarion looks at him like he's sprouted a third eye, silently demanding to know what the fuck he's doing.
"Look," Orochimaru says, ignoring him. "If you're going to steal, you can't hesitate. That's how you got caught. Figure out what you want. Take it and run the opposite way. That way, even if they figure you out, you'll be on your way before they can catch you, understand?"
"Huh? I- okay. I'll remember that."
“And one more thing- don’t try to hold your breath. Breathe through your mouth instead, you’ll make less noise and be able to think clearer.”
Mattis smiles an adorably cheeky smile.
“You’re a weird one, aren’t you, stranger? I think Mol would like you.”
There’s that name again. He’ll have to keep an eye out for this Mol person people keep mentioning.
"You know, I'm not that fond of children," Astarion grumbles, as they depart. “Such nosy little creatures.”
“I am,” Orochimaru says. “There’s no harm in indulging their curiosity every now and then, anyway.”
They’re interrupted before Astarion can come up with yet another snarky remark.
“You’re hurt-” Shadowheart says, grabbing Astarion by the wrist to look over the claw marks on his side.
“Hey now, don’t get grabby-”
“Now’s not the time to be a prude,” Shadowheart snaps at him. “Just let me heal this before it gets infected.”
That was enough to get Astarion to hold still, though every single muscle fiber of his body screams discomfort as the woman prods at his injuries to get a feel for how bad they are before she goes to heal them.
“How are you walking around like this?” she marvels. “These wounds are deep.”
“Would you believe me if I told you I’ve had worse?”
“How does a magistrate wind up hurt worse than this?”
Astarion gets a vacant sort of stare when she asks this, like his mind is taken somewhere else.
Something- possibly their shared parasite- pulls at the corner of Orochimaru’s mind. Showing flickers of images through eyes that are not his.
Rough, vicious people with rough, angry voices. Shouting all manner of profanities and insults as they rain blow after blow down upon him.
One of them shouts about my boy, you locked up my boy- the edges of the world start to go fuzzy-
The other snarls insults that would make the most grizzled sailor blush, spittle flying from his mouth along with the bile.
-Then the connection breaks off, and he’s inhabiting his own thoughts once more.
Astarion doesn’t even seem to realize his mind hadn’t been his own for those few moments.
“That’s my business.” he tells Shadowheart, all the joviality gone from his voice.
Shadowheart clearly doesn’t like being rebuffed like that, but she accepts it.
She mutters something under her breath, and the lacerations start to knit themselves shut, open wounds turning into soft pink lines, which fade into nothingness, as though he hadn’t been injured at all.
“There. Was it really that bad?”
“Oh for the love of-”
“A simple ‘thank you’ would be sufficient here, you know.”
Astarion rolls his eyes so hard it’s a wonder they don’t fall out of his head.
“Thank you,” he says, dripping sarcasm as he does.
Shadowheart either manages not to catch that sarcasm, or she doesn’t acknowledge it.
“Your skin is awfully cold,” she remarks as she straightens back up, fiddling with his torn clothing as if she could fix them.
“I’ve heard that a lot,” Astarion laughs. “It’s nothing to worry about.”
The woman squints at him in suspicion, before letting the matter drop.
“What about you?” she asks Orochimaru. “Did you get hurt?”
“Hm? Just a few scrapes, nothing to fuss over.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. Put that talent of yours to use where it’s needed more, alright? I'm pretty sure Kisame got bruised up and needs some attention."
Shadowheart gives him a miffed expression, and leaves to find something to keep her hands busy.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say she liked you," Astarion giggles.
Once again, Orochimaru decides not to indulge his banter. Instead, he wanders to where Itachi has an enraptured gaggle of tiefling children around him, regaling them with stories of adventure he must have told his brother in his other life. His expression is as stony as ever, but Itachi is clearly in his element there.
It's a welcome break from the tension everywhere else.
Orochimaru doesn't sleep well that night. His dreams are troubled, flashes of the past he's desperate to forget flitting through the spaces between consciousness.
Maybe it's better that way. Because at some point, while the world is still and silent, he jerks awake to the feeling of something brushing against his neck.
Something cold. Something sharp.
"...Shit."
Astarion’s scarlet eyes flash in the darkness as he falls backward, alight with terror.
“Nonono, it’s not what you think- I- I just-”
Orochimaru grabs the knife from under his pillow and rolls onto his feet, figuring he’s in for a fight.
"I wasn't going to hurt you!" Astarion insists, his voice weak and his knees shaking as he pleads his case, raising his hands in a pitiful barrier.. "I was just- I just needed-"
He hangs his head, like a dog caught doing something naughty.
"...Well. Blood."
As they stand there in the dying firelight, things connect in Orochimaru's mind, and everything makes sense.
The bloodless boar. The scars on his neck. The way he'd seemed so very nervous when the subject came up.
"You're a vampire."
It's not an accusation, just a statement of fact.
A vampire. The ravening monsters that Shadowheart and Lae’zel had warned him about.
"I-"
He doesn't even bother trying to deny the accusation.
"Well, out with it then. How long has it been since you've killed someone?"
"I've never killed anyone !" Astarion insists, and Orochimaru is pretty sure it isn't a lie. "Well… not for food. I feed on animals- deer, boar- whatever I can get. But-"
He clutches at his stomach like he's in agony.
"...It's not enough. Not if I'm meant to fight. I feel… weak."
He holds his hands up, scarlet eyes pleading with him.
"If I had blood- even a little- I could think clearer. Fight better. I just…"
There is no lie in his words. Only blind fear. Desperation. He's three seconds away from getting on his hands and knees and begging.
"Why did you not say anything before?"
"You heard how the others talked about my kind! At best I expected to be thrown out. At worst you'd ram a stake through my ribs. People see a vampire and they can only see a monster- I couldn't have that happen. I needed you to trust me. You can trust me. Please."
Funny to ask for trust after trying to drain his blood in his sleep.
Or, it would be, if the poor man didn't look so…pitiful.
There's no malice in his words. No lies. Only desperation. Hunger.
He needs to handle this situation carefully. Astarion is tense, like a frightened rabbit, ready to run off into the dark at any moment.
And despite that maybe being for the best, Orochimaru does not want that to happen. If only because he would miss the company.
"I do trust you." He says, after careful contemplation.
(It might be a lie. He isn’t sure.)
Astarion relaxes, just a fraction, and he smiles just a bit.
When he speaks again, he tries to throw that charming veneer back on, though it doesn't quite work.
"Thank you." He says. "Do- do you think you could trust me just a little further?"
He doesn’t have to elaborate- what he’s asking for is quite clear.
Astarion touches his shoulder gingerly, like he's worried he'll be rebuffed, or that Orochimaru might run off.
Orochimaru only has one last question.
"Why me?"
“I- you’re new here. You didn’t know about my kind. I figured you would be the least likely to know how to kill someone like me. The blue behemoth could snap me in half if I tried it with him, and the quiet one’s blood smells… off. And besides-”
He looks a bit sheepish, but still finishes the sentence.
"-I got a taste of your blood, back at the crash site. It's been… driving me mad, ever since. I thought if I could have another taste, maybe I could stop thinking about it-”
Orochimaru probably shouldn't be as flattered by that statement as he is.
It certainly puts him practically deep-throating the dagger he’d held to his throat in a bit of a new context.
He does a few calculations in the back of his mind, never taking his eyes off the pale man.
Technically, a human can lose about forty percent of its blood before risking death. He certainly has it to spare.
The question is-
"-How much would you need?"
"I-"
Astarion glances away, cringing as he thinks about it.
"I don't know. Nothing ever makes the hunger go away entirely. But-"
He can't finish the sentence- maybe too ashamed to.
How dreadful, to have to bargain and beg just to try to sate a hunger that can never be sated.
But if it would truly make him more useful, to be fed…
(Besides, he knows all too well what it’s like to be starved. It’s a wretched enough feeling when it’s only a want for food.)
"Alright then. I don’t mind.”
Astarion tilts his head, as if he can't believe what he's just heard.
Orochimaru beckons him over.
"If you need to be fed, I'll allow it. So long as you promise not to kill me."
“...What? I- of course. I wouldn’t dream of that…”
Satisfied that his life isn’t in danger of being ended tonight, Orochimaru gets back down on his bedroll, yellow eyes set firmly on the frightened vampire in front of him as he brings his wrist up to his mouth.
He takes advantage of his own sharp teeth to pierce the skin, not so much as flinching or breaking eye contact as he does.
The familiar sharp taste of blood greets him- surely the man can smell it too, because all his muscles tense up, his face twisting up like the scent of it is causing him pain.
Still keeping eye contact, he offers up his bleeding wrist; he hears Astarion’s breath catch in his throat- either from the sheer want for it, or from disbelief that he’s actually about to be fed.
He approaches warily, getting down on his knees and taking the offering gingerly, like he’s worried he’ll be burned.
His hands are icy cold, as is his tongue when he runs it over the wounds- carefully, wanting to savor the moment as best he can. A small moan of relief escapes him, despite his best effort to restrain himself.
It isn’t nearly enough- Orochimaru can tell that much from how his lips curl over wickedly sharp fangs. From the way his fingers twitch and curl in on themselves, as he tries so desperately to maintain self-control.
A pitying smile crosses his face. He reaches out to pet Astarion’s hair- it’s soft and fluffy, like rabbit fur- the way he imagined it to be. The man flinches at first, but then he leans into it warily.
So much like a rabbit. So skittish. So distrusting.
(How long has it been since he’s been touched gently?)
“You poor thing.”
“...what?”
“Starving for so long. Knowing people think you’re a monster. You must be so lonely.”
“I don’t need your pity,” Astarion hisses, through clenched teeth. His nails bite into the thin skin of Orochimaru’s wrist in warning.
Now he’s more reminiscent of a feral cat, hissing and swatting at any helping hand offered out of fear of getting hurt.
“Indulge my curiosity for a moment,” Orochimaru says. Astarion tilts his head a little, but is too enraptured with the blood from his wounded wrist to say anything at the moment.
He takes that silence as permission.
“What is it like? This sort of hunger, I mean.”
“It’s-”
Astarion’s eyes dart around, trying to find the right words.
“It’s unbearable,” he finally manages to croak out, barely louder than a whisper. “For two hundred years, it’s been unbearable-”
His voice is drenched in shame as he says it, as if it’s somehow his own fault.
“It’s like there’s a bottomless pit in my stomach. It’s hard to think of anything else. I mean- I’d been hungry before I was- before I became this. But I would suffer that every day for the rest of time if I could be free of this torture.”
There’s the slightest quiver in his voice, like he’s fighting the urge to cry.
“It never ends. It never goes quiet. But no matter how long I starve it won’t ever kill me. Only chew me up over and over until I break. No matter how many times I break, it can’t ever kill me.”
How dreadful.
It must have taken a lot of courage for him to admit all this.
But one thing in particular catches Orochimaru’s attention.
“Two hundred years?”
“It’s one of the…quirks of my affliction. Time will never kill us. Hunger, thirst, illness- they can’t touch us. But we suffer in plenty of other ways, so whether it's worth it is anyone's guess…”
Interesting. Orochimaru will certainly have to look into that more later.
Rather than remark on what he’s just been told, Orochimaru pulls his long, silken black hair aside, exposing the side of his neck, inviting him closer.
“Come here, then. I’m sure you need more than just a taste.”
After freezing in place for far too long, Astarion creeps closer to him, never once taking those sharp, scarlet eyes off him.
Perhaps he wonders if it’s a trick. Or maybe he’s wondering if he’s dreaming.
“You don’t need to be so nervous. You wouldn’t be the first person to have bitten me- and this sort of bite would at least be productive.”
“You don’t know what you’re-”
Astarion doesn’t finish the sentence, probably because he’s unable to ignore the lure of blood humming just beneath Orochimaru’s paper-white flesh any longer.
“...If you’re sure.”
In truth, he’s not sure. But it’s a bit late to turn back now. He can't, not when the promise of a meal- a real, proper meal- is so tantalizingly close.
Astarion’s lips tremble against his skin- is he about to cry? Is he afraid?
Afraid, maybe, that this is a dream, or some sort of trick?
Poor, poor little thing.
There’s a tense snap as teeth breach his neck, like biting into the taut skin of a grape.
It’s like shards of ice right to the carotid artery- a sharp, cold pain that quickly melts into a soft numbness.
Not pleasant, but somehow not entirely un pleasant, either.
Astarion’s frigid skin grows steadily warmer the more he drinks; he grabs fistfuls of Orochimaru’s hair to keep his head steady, taking great, greedy mouthfuls of blood as fast as he can swallow them.
The corners of Orochimaru’s vision start to go fuzzy- he doesn’t know how much of his blood has been taken, but it’s starting to become too much for his comfort.
He puts a hand on Astarions forehead and tries to pry him away while being as gentle as he can manage.
“Ah- that’s enough-” he mutters, while he still has the clarity of mind to do so.
“Hm? Oh-”
Astarion jerks away with enough force that he falls backward and lands ass-first in the dirt.
“O-of course. Sorry, I got caught up in the moment-”
He speaks in a hushed, breathless tone- something like he’d either just run a great distance or had a particularly gratifying orgasm.
He scrambles to get to his feet in the most dignified manner possible, dusting himself off and straightening out.
“I- I feel-”
It’s hard to tell in the dying firelight, but Orochimaru swears there’s a flush of color in the man’s face now that wasn’t there before. He flexes his hands and smiles, reveling in the euphoria washing over him.
“...I feel good. Strong. Happy.”
He certainly looks better- other than the color, he has a new air about him- more confident. Bolder.
Orochimaru might smile back- if he didn’t feel quite so lightheaded. He lays back down, figuring he can deal with his injury in the morning.
“Let’s hope it pays off next time we get into a fight.” he says, hoping he doesn’t come across too flippant.
“I’m sure it will- so many people need killing- now, if you don’t mind- you’re invigorating and all, but I need something a bit more filling. I’ll let you get back to sleep.”
He turns around, and Orochimaru wonders if he’s somehow gotten taller, or if he’s merely standing straighter.
Astarion takes a few steps away from him, but then freezes once more.
“...This is a gift you know,” he says, his tone suddenly deadly serious. “I won’t forget it.”
He disappears into the darkness after that, ready to hunt.
Shutting his eyes once again, Orochimaru has to wonder what the fuck he’s just done.
He feels vaguely nauseous. Exhausted. The world spins around him uncomfortably, even behind closed eyelids.
Yet he doesn’t regret what he’s done.
The gears in his head start turning as he processes his muddled thoughts.
Come morning, they’ll need to talk it over with the others- if only to clear the air so there’s no more surprises.
But besides that, he can’t help another thought that eats at the back of his mind.
Unendurable hunger aside, his brain keeps wandering back to what Astarion said about never dying.
If that’s the price to pay for immortality-
Well. He would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit the idea intrigued him.
Immortality. True immortality. No more hopping from one stolen vessel to another to try to cheat death a little longer.
And all it costs is blood? Hell, he’s probably spilled enough blood in his life to slake a thousand vampires’ thirst. It should be a triviality to him.
The only issue would be to get close enough to poor, unfortunate Astarion to get him to relinquish that beautiful body without too much of a fight.
It would be a shame, since he’s surprisingly amusing company. But that brief sadness would be a trivial price to pay for eternity.
For now, he can be patient. Worrying about their parasites should be the priority- but on the way, it won’t hurt to cozy up to his pretty vampire companion to hedge his bets in case they survive.
He’ll think about it more after sleeping off the dizziness from having his blood drained.