Chapter Text
Day two of this tadpole. Day two of grouping up with this ragtag group to search for a cure for this tadpole. In all honesty, he wasn't sure if he wanted a cure. A cure meant he would fall back to into the clutches of his master. At the same time though - he knew that no cure meant that ceremorphosis was guaranteed. Cure or no cure, thralldom awaited him. So regardless of what he wanted, he had latched onto this group and their agreed common goal. They were…eccentric, but they many of them seemed to boast of power. And ultimately, that's what he would need if he wished to survive.
Tav, Wyll, Gale, and Astarion had set out from the camp that morning as the ladies agreed to keep watch over the camp. And while they had went to seek out the archdruid healer, Tav and Wyll roped them into assisting some tieflings with their abrasive relationship with the druids of this enclave – Astarion was vehemently against the idea. But Wyll had argued the archdruid was a healer and would be able to help him. Then they found out he was captured by the goblins.
So now they were playing peacekeepers amongst the tieflings and druids for no reason instead of heading out to the goblins. Wasting their time settling a petty disagreement over a tiefling child attempting to steal some druid idol. What a bore. He yawned as he listened to the druid defacto leader prattle on about some planned ritual, when a flicker of purple caught the corner of his eye.
Astarion's head tilted to the side as he noticed Gale slinking along the shelves – appearing to do what he could only assume to be the wizard's attempt to look inconspicuous. The man's fingers danced along the spines of several books, before settling on one. Looking over his shoulder towards Tav and the druids and seeing them still in debate, he slid it off the shelf and slipped it into his bag.
Was Gale a little book thief? He wanted to laugh at the man – one, to feel the need to steal a book of all things; and two, to assume anyone would even care over his choice of thievery. I mean, books? He watched the wizard continue to skirt along the edges of the room, amused with his clumsy attempts at stealth.
As Gale moved away from the bookshelves, he seemed drawn like a moth to a flame to a ring delicately placed on a stone table. The ring's setting glowed softly as Gale picked it up. The wizards eyes flicked once more towards the center of the room where the druids and Tav stood, and seemingly content with seeing no eyes (that he saw) were on him, he casually slid it in a pouch attached to his belt.
So perhaps the wizard was just a petty thief. Curious. Something to explore later. Finishing his act of robbery, he let out a silent sigh of relief and he rejoined the group. As Tav successfully argued for the child's release at last – something Astarion felt rather indifferently over personally – the rogue watched Gale applaud Tav, going on about how youth was the time to make for mistakes. Astarion refrained from rolling his eyes. The group went along their way.
They spent the rest of the day light traversing the roads and scouting the perimeter of the goblin camp. In the evening, Astarion watched as the group seemed to progress into their own natural cliques. Wyll and Karlach feverishly debated with Tav over a rather loose plan to infiltrate the camp. Lae'zel and Shadowheart bickered over the best methods of cooking a wild pig they slaughtered earlier in the day. And Gale – well, he was sitting comfortably by the fire, nose deep in the book he had swiped earlier in the day. Comfortable being by himself in a group of people.
Not much different from myself, he thought.
Of course, that was where the similarities between the two ended.
Feeling the ebbs of his sanguine hunger grip him, Astarion excused himself for the evening, leaving to hunt for his own meal. The events of the day left him tired and after an hour of scampering about the woods, he was only able to secure a meager meal of a rabbit. He would need to figure out a different method to keep his hunger sated if he expected to survive through this.
He made the trek back towards camp, ready to slip into his tent and retire into a trance, when he noticed his current source of curiosity still at the campfire – and by himself.