Chapter Text
A persistent nudging to Astarion’s side drags him begrudgingly from a comfortable state of unconsciousness.
He flutters his eyes open, wincing at the brightness.
Astarion finds himself lying on an open grassy surface with the sun shining warmly on his cold undead skin. Two figures loom above him, both human women in strange clothing. Being the only others present in this clearing, they’re likely the ones who were nudging him only moments ago. He is about to snap at them for disturbing his rest when realization crashes down on him.
The Sun is shining on him.
Astarion is in the sun.
What follows is a mad scramble to the nearest shaded area, a tree he surmises from the sensation of its bark where he has flattened his back against. Astarion’s lungs heave with unnecessary breaths that do little to calm him.
Patting himself down, he is very surprised to note that he hasn’t burnt to death. Isn’t even a little bit singed.
Astarion eyes the division of shadow and light warily.
This shouldn’t be possible. The last thing he remembers before waking up here is having his eye invaded by some kind of worm, and being trapped in a fleshy tube contraption with the impression of falling from a great height.
He shouldn’t be alive at all, much less surviving a walk through sunlight. Perhaps the mind flayers did more to him than foisting that worm on him.
Astarion raises a shaking hand toward the light, bracing himself just in case he—
“Hey!” someone shouts. Astarion snatches his hand back to his chest, snapping his gaze to the speaker, “I’m talking to you!”
The speaker in question is a short human woman with blonde hair twisted messily around a pair of colourful sticks. Next to her is a slightly taller human woman with reddish hair. Both of them are wearing clothes of a cut and fashion that Astarion is utterly unfamiliar with. The fabrics are thin and of bright hues that could only be achieved with magic. Long-term wearing of any of these garments would be a nightmare if one intends to keep up with their repair and maintenance.
In short, Astarion hasn’t a clue as to where he is or what cultural norms he should be adhering to.
“Well, hello! Apologies for not addressing you sooner, I was merely startled. You see— when one is lucky enough to find such a lovely spot for a nap, best take advantage. I’ll be honest and say I wasn’t expecting to be woken up in such a manner,” Astarion forces a light laugh, “But anyway, what can I do for you now that you have my attention?”
Unfortunately the disarming effect of his usual charming self seems to be only half working. The red-haired woman has lost a bit of tension from what he assumes was meant to be an intimidating stance, but the blonde woman only narrows her eyes at him.
“We’re here to see what that bright light thingy was about. You were laying in the grass all unconscious looking right where it happened so we were wondering if you could tell us about it?” the red haired woman asks, “If you were practicing unsafe magic out here and it got away from you you can tell me, I wont judge. I’m new to magic myself so I understand being out of your depth sometimes is part of the learning curve and stuff.”
Ah, these must be wizard students then.
“Ahh, it’s all rather embarrassing, I’ve never practiced more than cantrips and a few first level spells.” Astarion rakes a hand through his hair in mock sheepishness, “I was trying to cast misty step and well– you can see how that turned out for me.”
There, that should account for the ‘backlash’ of light they saw and his sudden appearance if they were around to witness it.
“Hah, yeah. I’m not sure what a ‘misty step’ is–” How can she be a wizard if she doesn’t know what misty step is? “—but you know the first time I tried to make a–”
“Why don’t you come out here where it’s nice and sunny.” The blonde woman interrupts. Quite rudely, Astarion thinks. She might be onto him. He has been careful not to smile widely enough as to show any fang but he ought to do as she says rather than just kill the pair of them if he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself. This is a new environment. Take no chances.
Trepidation returns at the thought of making himself leave the relative safety of his tree-shade. The surrounding area is unpopulated from what he can see at least. There are only trees with multi-coloured foliage to mark the season as around mid-autumn and short well-kept grass. And Sunlight.
What Astarion would like to say is ‘go away’.
What he actually says is, “Of course! Now that I know I’m among fellow mages, I wouldn’t mind discussing the craft over a nice stroll.”
And then, pushing past his fear he tells himself, ‘if the sun was going to kill you you’d already be dead’ and walks out from the shadows with as much casualty as he can force.
And again he doesn’t burn.
It’s glorious.
Astarion laughs, leaning his head back to feel the warmth of the light on his skin. “Oh it really is a beautiful day!”
Foolishly he thinks of how it might be nice to have one of those afternoon picnics with cakes and tiny sandwiches. He remembers reading about them in a fiction book he managed to finish with what scraps of time he could steal away from–
No. No time for dwelling on such matters
Astarion can’t eat cakes or tiny sandwiches. He sobers some at the reminder of his nature but doesn’t lose his good spirits. The sun smiles on him today and he will not be brought down by his inability to eat childish pastries.
“You’re kind of strange, you know that?” The blonde woman says. She still seems skeptical of him but much less so now that he has seemingly passed her little test.
“Buffy!” the red haired wizard chastises, “No need to be the fun police. I think his costume is very nice,” she defends.
Costume? He surveys his clothing and despite his need for frequent repairs to the garments they are in decent condition and are still commonplace in Baldur’s gate fashion. If one were asking Astarion, he would say that their clothes are the ones that look ‘strange’ but he’ll defer to them in this situation only as he is obviously the odd man out.
“Fine, I’ll bite.” she says, no pun intended hopefully, “what are you supposed to be then, an elf?”
“Yes?” He says this very slowly, “And what are you ‘supposed to be then’ a human?”
“Ha Ha, very funny.” Buffy’s expression as she says this reads as unimpressed but there is a spark of humour around her eyes and in the slight quirk of her lips that told Astarion two things: (1) she thinks he is joking and (2) she is not actually annoyed at him for his ‘joke’. “We’re actually on our way to the dorms to change into our costumes now. Had places to be first. Somehow I feel like fairytale costumes and job fairs are non-mixy things.”
“Are you going to the party at Alpha Delta? I heard it’s going to be super spooky,” the red haired wizard chimes in rather excitedly, and honestly, Astarion is having difficulty parsing what either of these people are speaking of.
“So sorry to disappoint,” he says, “As I am always an improvement to any party I attend, but I do have a prior engagement tonight. Perhaps another time.”
Buffy rolls her eyes “Gimme a break.”
“Hah, I bet. But hey– That’s too bad! Maybe we’ll see you around campus sometime?”
“I would look forward to it,” he says, meeting both of their eyes, “And it is a pleasure to meet you both, I am Astarion.”
“That’s a really nice name, huh Buffy?” the taller wizard student says meaningfully.
“Hm, sure Will.”
“And you both are. . . ?” He trails off. Have they no manners in this place?
“Oh, I’m so sorry, I forgot to introduce us. We’re Willow and Buffy. Um, I’m Willow and she’s Buffy I mean.”
“Willow–” Buffy starts to say.
“Right, yes we really do need to get going now. Sorry– Bye!”
And with that the two students walk off at a brisk pace, leaving Astarion thoroughly befuddled and a bit exhausted at the prospect of learning his new environment.