The same cloth
“You’ve been awfully quiet.”
“I don’t make a habit of jabbering on when I don’t have anything to say.”
Astarion rolls his eyes, maybe miffed that Orochimaru isn’t paying him any attention.
Or maybe he’s just anxious, and doesn’t want to seem like it.
Either way though, Orochimaru has never been one for pointless smalltalk, and he doesn’t have much of any import to say at the moment.
Nothing wrong with a companionable silence, anyway.
As they approach the broken-down gate of what surely must have been a bustling village.
“Wonder what happened. This place looks like it’s been abandoned for ages.”
“Right…”
The acute awareness of being watched makes Orochimaru prickle, though as he looks around he doesn’t see anything at first.
His instincts don’t lie, however. So he keeps his guard up.
“Keep close,” he says. “I think we’ve got company.”
As if waiting for their cue, they hear shouting.
“Oi! Hands up! You’re surrounded like!”
More of those wretched goblins emerge from the ruined buildings around them, aiming bows and arrows at them.
Orochimaru does as he’s told, curious as to where this is going.
(He's not afraid, of course. He can wipe them out just like he'd wiped out the ones at the gate to the druid's grove. But he's curious about what they want, so he'll try to hear them out.)
“Doesn’t anyone around here know how to just say hello?” he sighs.
Then, he looks up toward the one who seems to be their leader, who sneers down at them.
“Do you mind telling us what you’re doing?”
“We’re the ones askin’ the questions here!”
“We can just kill them, can’t we?” Astarion whispers, through gritted teeth.
Orochimaru very much wants to do that- if only for the annoyance-, but he’s given a better idea when a strange symbol starts to glow on the apparent leader’s face.
And as it does, a strange feeling courses through him.
Power.
Authority.
“Knock it off,” he says, tone perfectly casual. “Before I make you regret it.”
“Oh- didn’t realize you was a True Soul-”
She calls out to the other archers, sounding desperate.
“Stand down! True Soul comin’ through!”
She does an awkward gesture a bit like a bow.
“Sorry- you’ll get no more trouble from us, I swear.”
They scamper off like rats back into hiding, leaving them to their own devices once again.
The goblins mutter amongst themselves furiously, scolding each other and arguing about whose fault the confrontation is.
“I ain’t wanna argue with no True Soul-”
“You shoulda asked before tryin’a kill ‘em!”
More pointless bickering, probably about to break out into a brawl. But it's none of their concern.
“...So.”
Astarion bares his teeth in a contemplative smile.
“It appears these little worm friends of ours allow us to influence people.”
“So it does.”
Orochimaru ponders this, and finds himself smiling too.
“Could be useful. As long as they’re here, we might as well see what these parasites can do for us.”
Astarion claps his hands together in glee.
“My thoughts exactly! I’m so glad we agree.”
Orochimaru frowns.
“True Soul, though…I wonder what that means…”
They make their way to the far side of the village, coming up against a bridge that's been totally obliterated right down the middle.
What an annoying setback. Orochimaru glares at the broken bridge as though he could will it to repair itself.
No sense in dwelling on it. They have plenty of other things to worry about.
"Must have something to do with the parasites. But hells if I know what."
Both are so lost in thought that they don't notice they aren't alone until they hear a voice that makes them both jump out of their skin.
"What manner of place is this? A path to redemption, or a road to damnation? Hard to say, with your journey just beginning."
Dressed all in frills and finery, the man grins as he approaches, reaching up to smooth back a stray brunet hair.
He speaks with a low, pleasant voice, in a friendly, jovial tone.
“ The mouse smiled brightly: it outfoxed the cat! Then down came the claw and that, love, was that. ”
He laughs.
“They know how to write them in Cormir, don’t they?”
A bit strange for the words to a lullaby, Orochimaru thinks.
“It isn’t every day I get to meet such a cavalier sinner as yourself. Welcome to this charming little plane of existence.”
Orochimaru doesn’t think to ask what he means by that.
“So, poetry aside- who are we speaking with?” Astarion asks. “The cat or the mouse?”
“Neither.” the stranger answers. “The fox- rather. Hiding, in a word. A silent observer, about to break their silence.”
He laughs again at this, like he finds himself hilarious, giving the pair of them a mock bow.
“Well met. I am Raphael- very much at your service.”
Orochimaru raises an eyebrow.
“And why would you be interested in helping us?”
“Why, my friend- I cannot help but offer a hand to souls in need. And you and your little companions are in desperate need, aren’t you?”
He tilts his head and examines the pair of them, seeming to take in everything with even the smallest glance.
“I would love to have a chat, but these surroundings are a bit too middle-of-nowhere for my tastes.”
He holds his hand out, with a sickly sweet smile.
“Come-”
Instantly, they’re standing in the midst of a huge dining hall, with stained glass all along the walls and giant chandeliers from the ceiling.
“There we go. The middle of some where . ”
The air is dry, and unbearably hot. But the surroundings are nothing but ornate finery, and this stranger stands in front of the roaring fireplace with a smug grin on his face.
“Where are we?” Orochimaru demands, already feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand up at the sheer aura of wrongness emanating off this man that he can’t quite place.
“The House of Hope, my friend.”
The man chuckles in a way more reminiscent of a predator growling than anything else.
“Go on,” he says, gesturing toward the table laden with every possible assortment of decadent food one could imagine. “It may be your last supper, after all.”
Neither Orochimaru nor Astarion take him up on the offer, staying stubbornly rooted to the spot.
“Is there a reason you brought us here, or are going to keep talking in riddles?” Orochimaru finally asks.
“Ah, of course. Where are my manners?”
There’s the reek of sulfur and cherry as a whirlwind of ash and fire wraps itself around this mystery man.
When he emerges from it, he’s sprouted an impressive pair of horns, leathery red skin, and intimidating talons at the ends of his fingers.
He strikes a pose like he’s deep in thought, still grinning as smugly as ever.
Orochimaru wonders if this is meant to impress him, or intimidate him.
“What’s better than a devil you don’t know?” He asks, clearly rhetorically as he doesn’t wait for an answer. “A devil you do.”
Astarion is as tense as a tripwire, mouth pressed firmly shut like he’s afraid to speak.
“I’d prefer to cut the theatrics, if it’s all the same,” Orochimaru says. “What is this all about?”
“Now, isn’t that a question? Am I an ally? An enemy? A savior? What do you think?”
“I think you’re starting to wear out my patience. So if you’d be so kind as to get to the point-”
“Ah, yes. The point-
He holds his hands out, framing Orochimaru’s head in his hands.
“Your predicament. One skull- two tenants. No solution in sight. I could fix it all-”
He snaps his clawed fingers.
“-Just like that.”
“And what’s the catch?” Orochimaru asks, knowing that whatever help this man is offering, it won’t be cheap.
“Our souls, I assume?” Astarion asks, half mocking, half serious. “Our firstborn children, maybe?”
“You read too many stories, little vampling,” Raphael chortles, shaking his head and speaking as though he’s speaking to a child. “We devils can be far more ambitious than that.”
“I’m getting a little tired of these games,” Orochimaru snaps. “Whatever you’re proposing, I want no part of it. I think you’ll find I’m clever enough to fix this by myself.”
Raphael scowls for just a moment, before that sickly smile returns.
When he speaks, all the mirth has been drained from his voice.
“So be it. Shop around, if you like- bargain, beg. You’ve been paragons of luck so far- I’ll be there when it runs out.”
Orochimaru doesn’t think that his predicament is anything resembling lucky, but this mystery man is gone before he can say as much.
They’re standing back by the broken bridge again, like nothing happened.
Astarion laughs at the absurdity of it all.
“Now there’s a bloody devil after us?!” he snaps, an ugly scowl on his pretty face as he folds his arms in aggravation. “Oh this just keeps getting better…”
Orochimaru still isn’t sure what a devil is, but he decides it probably doesn’t matter.
But the man definitely has an angle. Whatever angle that is.
“So he wants to cut a deal with us. One that, based on your reaction, I’m assuming will have a steep cost.”
“He seems certain he’s the only one who can cure us,” Astarion mutters. “And maybe he’s right. So far we haven’t found much help. Yet-”
“I gather striking any sort of deal would be a bad idea?”
“Making a deal with a devil is worse than stupid,” Astarion confirms. “They’re- well. They aren’t unlike my master. They’ll demand everything you have. And then more besides. Still, I don’t know what our other options are…”
“We don’t need him, then,” Orochimaru says. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“That won’t do us much good if that bridge collapses from under us.”
Astarion’s eyes dart around as the gears in his mind turn rapidly.
“I don’t like this. He’s playing with us. And men like that don’t play games unless they know they can win.”
Orochimaru tries to put the matter out of his mind, surveying the absolutely destroyed bridge and pondering how they’ll get over. Or whether they should.
Well. He could probably make the jump no problem, but Astarion…
“Think we can find another way around?”
“Maybe. For now, how about we head back and see if that village has anything interesting?”
(that, and they’ve been walking for a good bit and he’d like to take a break.)
“Oh, we might as well. Those goblins shouldn’t give us any more trouble, at any rate.”
“I should hope so. As fun as the little beasts are to kill, I’d rather save the energy.”
Astarion nods in agreement.
It feels an awful lot like they’re wasting precious time chasing dead ends, but neither of them have any better ideas.
Besides, those goblins seemed to know something about their stowaways. Or at least, what those stowaways can do…
“What a day…”
Astarion seems to mostly be talking to himself so Orochimaru leaves him to it as he pokes around the ruins of this village that must have been abandoned ages ago.
There’s a decrepit well in the center of the village, with a strange, rank sort of smell emanating from it.
Peering down, he wonders how deep it goes. And what must have happened down there to make the water within smell so foul.
He picks up a small stone and drops it into the well; it takes a solid thirty seconds to hear the echoing clatter as it finally hits the bottom.
So. It isn’t water making it smell rotten.
“Something caught your eye?”
Astarion grabs his shoulders and peers into the well, too, squinting and scrunching up his nose.
“Just curiosity,” Orochimaru says. “Now, if you don’t mind giving me some personal space-”
“Hm? Funny, usually people are thrilled to have me touch them.”
Despite sounding a bit hurt, Astarion does release him and takes a few steps back.
There’s something in his tone Orochimaru doesn’t like.
“...What do you mean by that?”
“Darling, I think you have an idea already.”
Orochimaru rolls his eyes so hard he wonders if Astarion can hear it.
“I have a light head and a sore neck,” he grumbles. “So if it’s all the same, I’d rather not be pawed at.”
“Ah, yes. It does take a bit more than an apology to fix that, doesn’t it?”
Despite his protestations, Astarion is still uncomfortably close, though his hands hover over him rather than touching directly.
“Let me make it up to you sometime, then.”
“Make it up to me?”
“I’m a man of many talents, dear. If you’d like, I’m sure I can more than make up for any trouble I’ve caused. We could take an evening to ourselves sometime- get away from the others. Get to know each other better…”
He trails off deliberately, to emphasize the point.
It takes a moment or two, but it clicks in Orochimaru’s mind what he’s proposing.
It’s…
Not an unfavorable offer, in all honesty.
Such a gorgeous man offering himself up- there are few people who would refuse such an offer.
Yet- something feels off about it.
The words are just a bit too practiced, a bit too forced. Nothing but a performance- a good performance, sure. But it makes him thoroughly uncomfortable in a way he hasn’t felt in a very, very long time.
(It’s too familiar. Far too familiar.)
He doesn’t let his discomfort show, but he puts some distance between them and keeps his head turned away.
“You’re a bizarre man.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“I mean that I haven’t met many people who would propose an amorous liaison with their dinner.”
“Maybe you just haven’t had a good enough meal.”
Astarion is joking. Probably.
Well, it’s funny, either way.
“As tempting as that offer is,” Orochimaru says, trying to pick his words carefully, “I’m going to have to decline for now.”
(He decides to say for now hoping it’ll soften the blow a bit.)
“...Why?”
Astarion sounds absolutely baffled. Utterly confused. Like he can’t possibly wrap his pretty head around someone turning down the chance to sleep with him.
Orochimaru laughs, shaking his head in disbelief.
“No need to rush into this sort of thing,” he says. “And I don’t expect you to sleep with me as some kind of payment for my blood. That was a gift, like you said. Gifts don’t need repayment.”
He allows himself to look over at Astarion, finally.
The man looks so lost- like he’d had this entire conversation planned out in his head, only for it to go sideways in a way he never considered.
Once again, those scarlet eyes dart around as his mind works, trying to make sense of everything.
He folds his arms. Unfolds them. Rests them on narrow hips, glaring at the muddy ground.
“What’s the problem?”
“...It’s my experience that generosity always comes with a price tag. So why don’t you just cut the shit and tell me what you want from me already and we can get it over with?!”
This probably isn’t a situation where full honesty is appropriate.
But how does he answer this?
He puts on his best poker face as he tries to answer.
“Is it not enough that we’re stuck in the same boat? No sense in not helping each other out when we count on each other for survival.”
Astarion doesn’t seem to accept that answer- he still has that distrustful stare that pierces straight through to his core, still balls his hands up into fists like he’s ready to strike at any moment.
“Besides-”
He plasters on his best faux smile as he leans forward, wanting to wipe that sullen look away before it can make him feel too guilty.
“-I’ve taken more than my share of lovers in my time. My standards are pretty high. Do you think you’re up to scratch?”
“Up to scratch?! Darling, don’t be ridiculous-”
Astarion lays a hand on his chest, aghast at the accusation that he could possibly be an inadequate lover.
“-I can assure you, people are dying to get in bed with me.”
There’s something off about the way he says that. Maybe he didn’t want Orochimaru to catch it, but he does.
He might very well be poking a sleeping bear by asking, but he can’t help himself.
“Why do I get the impression that’s more literal than you’re letting on?”
The painful silence that follows, and the way the smile evaporates from his companion’s face, lets him know that was the wrong thing to say.
“You’re quite the nosy one.”
“Seeing as you’ve had your teeth in my neck draining my life away, I think I’m entitled to be a bit nosy.”
A heavy sigh.
“I should have just shut my mouth…”
“Is that how you used to get your meals, then?”
Astarion answers flatly, in a clipped way like the words are being forced out of him.
“No. Not mine.”
“I suppose this is about Cazador?”
“And here I thought you might be stupid.”
Astarion sits on the edge of a rotting wagon, rubbing his temples like he’s got a wicked headache brewing.
(Hell, he probably does.)
“I was given a…duty, when I first awoke as a vampire spawn. To go out into Baldur’s Gate and fetch him the most beautiful souls I could find… and bring them back. For him.”
He looks around to make sure that none of the goblins milling about are listening in.
“...It was a fun little ritual of his. When I brought him prey, he would ask if I wanted to dine with him.”
He holds up a cupped hand, staring at some place a great distance off, but not really seeing anything.
(It's a look Orochimaru knows all too well- though he's more accustomed to seeing it on the faces of those dragging their sorry carcasses back from war.)
“If I said yes, he would serve me up a dead, putrid rat.”
That cupped hand curls into a white-knuckled fist.
“Of course. If I said no, he’d have me flayed. Hard to say which was worse.”
“And you never tried to get away?”
The moment the words are out of Orochimaru’s mouth, there’s a knife inches from his face, and those red eyes are glowering at him.
“You don’t know what it was like!” he snarls. “To be a vampire’s spawn is to be less than a slave- less than a puppet, even. If the word is spoken, we are given no choice but to obey our master’s will. It doesn’t matter how vile the deed. Master’s word is always law. I couldn't run away. I never had the choice."
Things get more and more interesting by the moment, it seems.
Those goblins are still busy rooting about the wreckage of the village.
Perhaps he best return these revelations with some of his own.
(Fair is fair, after all.)
“Would you look at that? We have more in common than I thought.”
“What do you mean?”
Certain he has Astarion’s undivided attention, he launches into a tale of his own.
“Before I came here- before I became myself, even-” he says, leaning against one of the ramshackle buildings as if this were a casual conversation, “I was a soldier of sorts. Born and raised to serve my homeland, I was told. The shield with which the village would be protected. And the sword with which its enemies would be struck down.”
He picks a rock up off the ground, and throws it toward the faded hopscotch outline still clinging to the soggy earth. The stone bounces two or three times before clattering to a stop, in the middle of the final square.
“I still remember how it started. I was called into my teacher’s office, where he, his right hand man and a diplomat from another country were waiting for me.”
Crows cawing in the distance cut through the thick tension in the air.
“The diplomat- I forgot his name by now- took a look at me. He smiled. He said I would do, and would I accompany him back to his home village? I said yes. I wish I had known what that would cost me…”
He pauses, swallowing his emotions before they can get the better of him.
(He’s telling a story, after all, not fishing for sympathy.)
“...It was the first of many times I was made to trade myself for political favors. What I wanted- how I felt about the ordeal- that didn’t matter. The village was the only thing that mattered. From the time I was too young to know what was happening, to the day I finally got strong enough to take control of my life. It never stopped. Not even when I begged for death, just so I didn’t have to endure it anymore. I could have run away. But the dogma was so embedded in my mind that I couldn't even think about it for decades."
He digs his fingernails into the back of his other hand to ground himself.
“So, like I said- we have something in common. I only wish we didn’t.”
“Hm.”
Astarion has gone terribly quiet- he looks at Orochimaru with something somewhere between pity and surprise.
“I thought I’d found a kindred spirit in you,” he finally says, before the silence gets too awkward. “Did the mind flayers save you as well?”
Orochimaru barks out a laugh at the insinuation.
“Far from it. I did that myself. With my own blood and sweat and determination. They hadn’t owned me for years before I wound up here.”
“If only we all could be that lucky.”
“Oh, I assure you-”
Straightening back up, Orochimaru leans forward and hooks a finger under Astarion’s chin to lift his head.
Astarion flinches away from him, with a glare, but continues to listen.
“-Luck had nothing to do with it, my dear. I clawed my way out of that pit. And I did it on my own.”
“How?”
“Spite, darling. Nothing but spite.”
He smiles, but he doesn’t really find it funny.
“If spite was a weapon, I could’ve killed Cazador with it long ago.”
“Oh, but spite is a weapon. A powerful one, if you wield it right.”
“You’d have to show me sometime, then.”
Orochimaru pulls a rusted knife out of where it’s stuck in a chunk of rotting wood. He points the sharp end toward Astarion, with a cheeky smile.
“With pleasure.”
That much, at least, is sincere.
He doesn't know this Cazador person. He's nothing more than a vague collection of unpleasant ideas in his head. Secondhand memories shared in snapshots by his unusual companion.
But he's already decided that, if they ever do meet, Cazador will have to die.
It'll be fun to do, at the very least. The fact that he stirs up a feeling of rage inside him that he hasn't felt in ages is secondary.