Chapter Text
Entry eight - 29 Ches
Milil invited me back to the bar. He said there'll always be a spot for me if I wanted to perform there.
I turned him down.
I know he means well, but I can't go back there. Not yet. I want to but the thought of getting back up on stage is too much. What if someone sees me? What if someone hears me? It's the Upper City and Cazador's old clients still roam free. Milil said he blacklisted them all but what if he missed one…
I don't think I could say no if one of them found me. Not yet.
I wish I could just… wish it all away. If I could flee – just run away from it all then that would be better but I can't bring myself to leave this damned city. I thought things would have changed but I still don't feel whole. I don't even feel real yet. Cazador has been dead for two years and I still can't even get back on stage. I can't even look at a microphone. The very thing that I long to do… I can't.
Even from the grave that bastard owns my voice.
Gods, he's taken everything from me. He's taken my freedom, my sanity, my body, and my godsdamned voice. I thought it'd be different once he was dead but… I guess I was wrong. I thought that once he was dead, I'd get better. But maybe… maybe I was wrong.
Astarion looked up from the leather-bound journal in his hands as a child let out a piercing laugh nearby. A small group of children was chasing each other up the grassy hill that spanned the length of Upper City Park. Astarion huffed a sigh as he watched them. He was currently seated on a bench facing the lake but he turned his head to watch the other parkgoers around him.
The sun was shining bright that day. Birds were chirping, children were laughing, families were enjoying each other's company. Astarion hated all of it. And yet, he still came to the park. He didn't know why he came as often as he did, but it had become like a ritual to him. Once a week, on eighthday, he came to Upper City Park to watch the ducks play in the water. It was something he had never been allowed to do. Not since…
The child shrieked another laugh and Astarion's frown deepened. He watched the group of children chase each other further up the hill before they disappeared around an outbuilding. Astarion sat, staring off in the children's direction before he turned back to watch the ducks.
Astarion liked the ducks. He would often come to upper City Park to watch them or feed them or just spend time in their company. He had missed his visit last week and since then, it looked like they had recently hatched. A string of ducklings followed behind a mother duck as they strode across the shoreline. Astarion reached his free hand into the bag that he had brought with him to pull out a handful of seeds.
He looked down at his palm for a moment. Astarion frowned as his thoughts began to drift again. Disjointed memories passed by, images of things he would have rather long forgotten. Shadows of people standing just past the edge of the light. Astarion could barely make out their outline but he knew they were there. They were always there, watching him. His ears twitched as he heard voices in the distance and he looked up quickly. The children continued to laugh and play on the hillside.
Astarion let out a sigh before he tossed the seeds into the water. The ducks quacked and splashed as they swam toward the floating gifts. A small smirk ghosted Astarion's lips as he watched them. Finally, he looked back down at his journal. He remembered when he had first started writing in it. Alfira had told him that getting his thoughts out of his head and down onto paper would be good for him. He hadn't believed her at first, but when he had finally tried it, something had broken loose inside of him. A lock had clicked op, releasing deluge after deluge of emotion. He hadn't been able to stop writing. Every thought, every feeling, every twisted up memory went into that notebook. Some entries he re-read. Others, he never looked at again. But everything that Astarion needed to say went into that journal.
Astarion reached his hand into the bag again when a young boy suddenly ran up to the shoreline. Astarion paused to watch him. The boy was holding what looked like a loaf of bread in his hands and Astarion frowned as he watched the boy begin to tear off pieces to throw to the ducks. The birds quacked happily as they paddled over to collect the offered food but Astarion huffed as he stood up.
"Excuse me," he said, setting the book down next to the bag of seeds.
The boy froze at Astarion's words. He slowly looked up at him with wide eyes. "Yes, mister?"
"Ducks do not eat bread," Astarion explained as he pointed to the loaf in the boy's hand. "What are you trying to do? Kill them?"
The boy's eyes widened even further. "Oh no, mister! I just wanted to feed them!"
"Ducks eat seeds, nuts, berries, and corn if you must," Astarion counted on his fingers. "But no bread."
As Astarion said it, his lips curled back to reveal the tips of his sharp fangs. The boy let out a gasp as he dropped the loaf of bread into the dirt. Astarion watched him take a few steps back before he turned and ran back up the grassy hill. The vampire watched the boy collapse onto a blanket next to an older couple where he began to wave his arms wildly and point in Astarion's direction. The boy flailed his arms for a moment before he suddenly began to point to his teeth. He dragged his fingers down and Astarion realized he was miming fangs. The couple looked over at him and then back at the boy, but didn't move to approach him.
Astarion sighed as he turned back to gather his things. There was always something that managed to ruin his time at the park, and it was usually a child. He slipped the bag of seeds into his pocket and pressed his journal under his arm before he straightened. He took one more look around the shoreline of the large pond. The ducks had paddled further away from him and as he followed them, he caught sight of a young couple seated on a bench directly across the water from him. They were laughing and smiling together as a young woman knelt in front of them, snapping photographs. Astarion watched her as she shifted closer to the couple and then got off her knees to step back toward the shoreline.
Astarion focused on the woman's form. She was a drow but as she turned to adjust her body position, golden dragon scales reflected the bright sunlight back at him. Her dark ginger hair was pulled back into a long braid that hung down her back and it swept across the ground as she settled down onto her knees. As Astarion watched her, he realized he had never seen a drow woman quite like her before.
He watched as she lowered the camera from her face and Astarion followed the trail of dragon scales down her temple. She wore an oversized sweater but there were a few visible scales that dusted along her forearms. He had seen his fair share of dragonborn and those with draconic ancestry but as he observed the drow, a thought suddenly came to mind.
Rough dragon scales brushed against his bare chest. He shifted around to roll away but a large, clawed hand wrapped around his wrist to pull him back. Astarion struggled, pushing against the dragonborn but he was so much larger than him.
"Cazador said you were feisty." Hot breath ghosted across his cheek as he laughed above him. Astarion turned his face away.
Another clawed hand scratched across his hip and lower.
"Please, don't –"
Astarion swallowed as he shook his head. No, he would not remember. Not now. He looked up to focus on the drow woman again but she was no longer across the pond. He looked around and caught sight of the couple wandering off toward the parking lot. Astarion frowned. He hadn't been gone that long.
Astarion sighed as he turned to leave the park. The sun was moving across the sky and the shadows were starting to stretch across the pavement. He had spent long enough with the ducks and it was time to return to his apartment.
He began to walk along the shoreline. The apartment he had "inherited" sat on the west side of the city, overlooking the Sea of Swords. It was modest for being nestled in the heart of the Upper City but Astarion was grateful for it. After Cazador died, Astarion had worried he would have been forced to find a place in the Lower City, amongst the very people he had hunted for his old master but Astarion found he had friends in the magistracy. Despite Cazador's influence, not many people cared for the vampire lord's business practices. The apartment conveniently fell into Astarion's name and no questions were ever asked.
The children continued to laugh and play nearby. The small group that had disappeared over the hill earlier was making their way back down again. Their earlier game of tag has evolved into each child taking turns doing cartwheels and somersaults down the sloping hill. Their sharp screams of laughter grated on Astarion's ears and he winced. Astarion glanced back down at the ducks once more before he scanned the park. The couple had finally disappeared into the sea of vehicles over the hill but the woman with the camera had seemingly disappeared into thin air. He had hoped to catch one more look at the shimmer of golden scales before he left but as the children dashed by him on the walking path, he shook his head.
There was a shaded path that led along the edge of the parking lot and down away from the lake. The Upper City had a collection of perfectly manicured trails and walking paths built throughout and Astarion made it a point to walk them as regularly as he could. He rarely drove, as he still had too many dark memories of times trapped in vehicles with Cazador's clients.
A gentle breeze rustled Astarion's silvered curls as he walked. It was cooler than normal for that time of year and while the weather rarely bothered him, he pulled his wool coat tighter around him. It was mostly out of habit. Cover his body; cover the parts of him they would be looking at.
Astarion's brow furrowed. He didn't normally have so many discordant thoughts, especially about back then. He adjusted the journal under his arm. Perhaps he needed to write more. Perhaps there was still more for him to divulge to the pages of the book.
The path that he walked was sparsely populated and the sun filtered in through the branches that stretched overhead. He glanced up as he walked. He remembered when the sun would have burned his skin, turning it to ash. Now though… Now, he was ascendant.
Astarion couldn't help but smirk at the thought. At least one thing had gone right in his life. Cazador was dead and he was free from that enslavement, although he was still bound by his memories.
The path began to curve as it wound through the trees. The breeze blew again when suddenly his ears twitched. There was a rustle of noise up ahead and he paused. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he listened
"Stop fighting, you stupid spiderfucker!" a man's voice pierced the silence.
"Get off me!" a woman yelled back.
Astarion moved to take a step when a white dragonborn suddenly came running around the bend. He was wearing all black and he was holding something in his hands. A woman ran behind him and Astarion caught sight of ginger hair and golden scales that reflected the sun. His eyes widened as he realized it was the woman from the park.
"Stop!" She called out. Her eyes shifted to Astarion's and she lifted her hand in front of her. "Stop, please!"
"Stop, please." Astarion's voice was barely a whisper as he pushed against the body above him.
The dragonborn above him laughed. "Say that again, pretty."
Astarion jerked his head to shake the memory as he realized the woman was calling out to him. He stepped into the middle of the path, directly in front of the thief but before he could reach out to stop him, the dragonborn barreled into him. Astarion threw his hand out to grab the dragonborn's bare arm, just as the man collided with him. They both went down in a flurry of arms and legs. Astarion tensed as he tried to grab at the dragonborn's arms but the thief suddenly pressed his large clawed hand against his shoulder. Astarion froze as his breath caught.
Rough scales under his hand, scratching, scraping…
One hand pressed against his sore, bruised shoulder to hold him down as another tangled into his hair. Astarion twisted, trying to wiggle out of the man's grasp but the hand slid up to tighten around his neck –
"Get off me, knife-ear!" The dragonborn hissed as he shoved Astarion back.
Astarion blinked as his head hit the dirt, jolting him out of the memory. The dragonborn scrambled to his feet. He looked around for a moment before he grabbed the discarded camera off the ground next to Astarion's head.
The dragonborn looked down at him one more time before he looked up and then turned to continue running down the path.
"No, please stop him!" The woman called out as she ran up to him.
The Dragonborn didn't turn back, disappearing off the path into the trees. Astarion slowly sat up.
"That bastard." The woman growled the word.
Astarion's ears twitched as he looked up at her. She was standing with her back to him but the word had sounded nearly feral as it had left her. The woman clenched her fists as she watched where the thief had gone. Even from where he sat, he could feel heat radiating off her body.
"Damnit, why?" She asked into the air.
Astarion brushed himself off as he stood up. He settled his gaze on the drow and he was finally able to take in her appearance better. She wore a dark brown sweater that seemed too large for her and skin tight black leggings. She was short for a Drow and wore wedge heels to compensate for her height. Her long braid fell to the small of her back and it had been tightly wound, with not a hair out of place. Everything about her seemed perfectly held in place.
The woman turned to look at him. Her brow was furrowed over bright, amethyst eyes and Astarion was finally able to see the intricate pattern of her scales. He had never seen a draconic sorcerer up close and she looked even more unique than he could have imagined.
She rubbed her hand across her eyes as she began to pace in front of him. Her long braid swung back and forth as she spun on her heel to walk across the path. Astarion watched her in silence for a few moments.
Suddenly, the woman turned to him. Her eyes were sharp as she glared up at him. As she stepped into his space, a part of him wanted to move back but he held firm. She was smaller than him but there was something about her presence, her aura that gave him pause.
"You saw him! He ran right into you!" she snapped at him.
Astarion narrowed his eyes at her as he tilted his chin down slightly. "I did see him. He was quite large."
She opened her mouth but paused before she placed her hands on her hips. She looked up at him. "And?"
"And what?" Astarion replied. His fingers twitched and he balled his hand into a fist. He wanted to meet her aggression with his own, but he forced his voice to stay level.
"And you didn't stop him!" The woman spun back to look down the path. "He… he…" the venom that had been in her voice had dissipated as she stood with her back to Astarion.
A gentle breeze blew between them.
"What did he take?" Astarion finally asked.
The woman released a deep sigh as she deflated. Her hands slid off her hips as her shoulders dropped. "My camera. Everything is on that. I can't lose it."
"Can't you just buy a new one?" He asked.
She shook her head before she turned back to him. "I can't afford a new one." Her eyes dropped to the ground. "I couldn't even afford that one. My dad bought it for me as a graduation present."
"Graduation present?" Astarion repeated. The woman didn't look especially young as he observed her.
"I wanted to be a photographer but my mother refused to let me." She shrugged her shoulders again. "My father bought it for me behind her back."
She heaved a heavy sigh. "Damnit, why does this always happen to me?"
Astarion was silent as he watched the woman. Her face was a sea of warring emotions. She tried to compose herself but her eyes were bright with unshed tears and her cheeks had begun to flush. Astarion's eyes widened slightly as he realized she was about to cry. His throat tightened as his skin felt like it was crawling. He wasn't prepared to handle a crying young woman in the middle of the forest.
"That is a terrible tragedy, however, I must say this doesn't particularly concern me." He blurted out before he turned and began to walk down the path.
"Wha…" he heard the woman begin to ask but he continued to walk away.
Astarion's brow furrowed, and he swallowed as he marched down the path. He didn't stop walking until he had rounded the next bend, and he was certain he was alone.
Cyra watched the mysterious elf hurry away. Her lips parted slightly, and her brow furrowed. The stranger had stood in front of the thief, wrestled with him, had every capability to stop him, and still let him go. Cyra felt her chest tighten as she watched the elf disappear around the bend in the path. He had stood in front of her, seen her despair, and then just… left.
Cyra sighed as she pressed her fingers into the space between her eyes. The dragonborn was gone. Her camera was gone. She had lost the gift her father had given her. It had been one of the few things she had been gifted to celebrate completing her master's in journalism. Cyra chewed her lip as she imagined what it would be like to go back to him to explain what had happened. She had been careless to let a stranger that close to her, to let a man that close to her. Now, everything she cherished was gone. Her camera, her livelihood, her freedom were all gone.
Cyra groaned as she thought of the couple. All of their photos were still on the camera. She would have to contact them and tell them that she couldn't complete their photoshoot.
"Did I do something?" Cyra asked, looking up at the sky. "Tell me, did I piss one of you off?"
Cyra sighed again before she shook her head. She didn't know why she even bothered asking. She knew the gods would not answer her.
Cyra wrapped her arms around herself as she looked in the direction the mysterious elf had gone in. He had acted so strangely, just turning and marching away from her as abruptly as he had. She had dealt with her share of interesting characters at her mother's brothel, The Gilded Dragon, but never any quite like him.
There was a buzzing in her pocket and Cyra groaned again. She already knew who it was but as she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, she saw a text message from her mother.
-I need you to wait on my business meeting tonight. Don't be late. -
Cyra's skin crawled at the thought of assisting her mother's clients but she still typed out a response.
-Of course, mother. I'll be there tonight. -
Cyra slipped her phone back into her pocket before she looked down the path once more. In one direction, the dragonborn had made off with her camera and her life's work. In the other direction, the mysterious man whom she would probably never see again. Cyra shook her head before she hurried toward the parking lot. She'd have to worry about both later.