chapter ten.
first bite

Fallon looked down at her hands, splayed beneath the moonlight. It cast a luminous, almost ghostly pallor to her skin and the lines that interspersed it, running thin like plotted rivers against map parchment. Calluses topped each palm, as they did for her finger tips, skin layered upon skin where the natural defences of the body had taken lessons learned, only to whisper 'never again'. Her right thumb and upper index bore the toughest flesh, where years of fiddling with locks had taken their toll. 

That was what her hands were for. Entering places guarded, taking things that weren't hers. Not for whatever macabre magic had spilled forth upon Dalaia's contact.

The ground beneath her was rough and craggy, a tough patch of rock where time had worn the border of a cliff into a steep staircase. Below the valley stretched out, impossibly dark save for the glint of a river and the bushy silhouettes of treetops. A celestial eye shone against a cloudless sky, lending an unwanted kiss of light. Fallon didn't want to see herself, she wanted to disappear, her stomach rumbling from the fires of her shame. 

She reached blindly to her side, her hand enclosing on a heavy rock. With what little strength she could muster, Fallon tossed it over the edge of the rocky cliff. It fell away, plunged somewhere unseen. Distantly she heard it break water as she buried her face in her hands. Would she never know a gentle touch as long as this parasite remained? A parasite she had so willingly allowed past the fold of her lids, where now it wriggled in delight, taking revel in her self-abasing thoughts. To not feel the touch of Marth's hand upon her shoulder, nor Dalaia's all encompassing embrace, to fear the proximity of her sole kin was a damned fate.

Fallon hunched her shoulders, her frustration built to boiling point.

"Curse it all!" She yelled to the void. Her voice carried an echo way deep down, bouncing through the valley, circling her throat.

"I hope you don't include me in that. A curse against this face? You'd be signing yourself away to Avernus for lifetimes untold."

Fallon's head jerked upwards. Astarion stood on the rippled rock above, his arms against the slender give of his hips. If she hadn't felt as defeated as she did in that moment, perhaps she would have considered speaking against him. With the look upon his face, stoked in smug satisfaction, she did indeed wish to curse him, as pitiful a thought as it was. Still and sullen, Fallon could only turn away, squeezing her eyes closed as she willed him away.

She heard the sound of his feet as he hopped down beside her before he settled on the ground. Of course it hadn't worked. Why would anything go her way?

"You should be thanking me, for doing you the honour of dirtying my clothes. Sitting on dirt and rock, oh how the mighty have fallen."

"I suppose you include no one but yourself in that category."

"You're catching onto me. I don't know whether that's endearing or a little annoying, but perhaps it's neither. Some consolation. You can stop questioning my every move now, not that it was making much difference."

She glanced upwards beneath the shelter of her hair. Through the dark strands, she hoped he could see her rolling her eyes.

"I wish to be left alone. That's not a question." Fallon muttered, knitting her brow.

"Do you suppose that's all that wise? You seem more than a little agitated and it'd be a shame if you met the same fate as that rock. It's my duty to make sure our fearless leader doesn't go and off herself, at least that was what I told the others. That face wouldn't look nearly as pretty all smashed up by the valley."

"If I wish to smash my face up, I will. Perhaps it's what I deserve."

A moment of quiet followed, where only the faint whistle of the breeze against the water below could be heard. She had run far from the goblin camp but not far enough, though something told her there was no distance he wouldn't have crossed to harangue her. What did he want? To accuse her of harming Dalaia? To call her a monster? Because only a monster could have caused such an injury. Without thinking, she spread her palms again, staring hard as though an answer could be derived if only she tried hard enough. What was wrong with her?

Astarion made to grab her hand and she yanked them away, twisting her body to create some distance. Her brow contorted in confusion, lips thinning with indignation.

"What are you doing?! Didn't you see what I did to Dalaia? I don't want to hurt anyone else, not even you."

"As touching a sentiment as that is, you won't. Do you forget so quickly that we danced together?" He clutched a hand to his chest as though in offense. "Besides, even if anything sordid did happen, the pain is my choosing."

She couldn't deny his point, still hesitating. She had detected the faintest hint of intent beyond curiosity in his tone. He wished to touch not to alleviate her mind but for some device of his own. Fallon knew there was only one way to confirm the suspicion. Allow him. If he were wrong, he would only have himself to blame, just as he had said. 

As much as the thought of Dalaia's darkened flesh branded her mind, Fallon's curiosity was strong. Slowly she swivelled back within his reach. Astarion's hand hovered above her own for a moment, the strange cold of his undead flesh radiating in the sliver of space between. He seemed to ponder the question of whether his words truly held water. His jaw grew vexed as seconds ticked by, doubt deepening what lines drew across his skin. Fallon found herself thirsting to know the debate within, for his mask slipped just enough for her to catch a stray hair of honest vulnerability.

With a resolute nod, he finally clamped down upon her, sandwiching her fingers between his own. Nothing. No brand, no strange dark smell. Just a touch, a pleasant one even. Fallon snuffed the thought hurriedly. 

A low sigh of relief whispered from Astarion's throat. He let his hand fall away from her own, smirking in confirmation. 

"What?" Suspicion quirked her brow.

"Oh, just savouring the feeling of being right." He motioned airily. "Albeit the path was unpredictable, though not entirely unwelcome. Now that I've confirmed one question, I might as well voice the other. Did you know that the tadpole would affect you in this way?"

"No!" She shook her head hurriedly. The mere assertion she would have allowed this to happen with her knowledge disgusted her. "Of course not. I don't bother with magic, if you must know."

"And why would that be?"

"No reason," she lied, "and if I had known what I would be setting into motion ..."

She let her voice trail off. Faintly she heard Raphael's laughter in her ear, wincing. Had he? Now that she considered it, this didn't seem outside the realm of possibility. In fact, it was almost fitting. Advice from a devil with no strings? She'd been stupid to take the bait so willingly. From what she knew of demons, they didn't approach mortals without an agenda of their own.

Fallon kneaded her brow with a light groan. 

"Well? Aren't you going to ask?" He chuckled wryly beside her, running a hand through his silver curls. He had mistaken the sound to be directed at him. 

"Do I dare?" She muttered, sighing darkly.

"Consider this my not so subtle suggestion."

"Fine. What genius did you surmise then, since you wish so blatantly to make it known."

"Thank you for humouring me, I've been waiting far too long to speak on this matter." He grinned and the moonlight caught his fanged canines, besetting them with an eerie glow. Already she regretted her choice. "The question had itched at me the past few days, the wonderful memory of my blade against your throat, how you bloomed for me. Gods, the scent has haunted me ever since."

"I don't understand your meaning." Fallon pressed, even as she felt recognition in her gut. She could already predict the words on his lips.

"What do you think the preoccupation of a man of my condition is? Aside from the usual depraved vices, of course. Blood, my dear. Your blood. Even beneath the thin coat of your skin, I could smell it, dulled but still a bitter temptation."

Fallon's hand ghosted the scar against her neck, rough in healing. He watched her intently as she traced it with her index finger. That look on his face, she remembered it now. An unbridled hunger. At the time she had thought it nefarious, presently it occurred to her that it still could be.

"What about my blood? Why is it of such particular interest to you?" She asked slowly.

"Oh I don't know," he replied with a note of irritation. "The aroma? The viscosity? Would you have me write a soliloquy to wax poetic about its tantalising nature?"

"No one is stopping you. I simply want to understand."

"Well understand this: you smelled like nothing I have ever encountered before. All I know was that it was different than any I had ever had the pleasure of being tempted by, even before the tadpole. That is nothing short of a compliment. And there's a reason, you saw it just as plain as I. You don't need my word, though perhaps Dalaia's could help."

She winced at how flippant his reference was. Yes, Dalaia was certainly proof of something.

"So your insistence at our company was ... What? For the off chance that I would bare my neck to you?" Her features contorted. 

"Yes. Oh, whatever is the matter? Is it really all that surprising that I might have motivations unseen?" He cocked an eyebrow as her expression fell. "Come on now, as invigorating as it is to try and pry information from you, I wasn't doing it for my health ... Or maybe I was? When you spoke of powers beyond your current means, I didn't think this was what you were hinting at. Now I wonder if you know more than you let on about our hosts."

His eyes fell away to the curve of her neck. Fallon's jaw reflexively tensed. It made her feel peculiar, to be looked at in such a way. She should be wary, and the emotion was present, kept at bay by an urge that could only be described as alien. Fallon could not name exactly what it was, only that prior to the tadpole and the dark wounds she had inflicted on Dalaia, it had simply not existed. Now it was as though a creature had unfurled in her depths, one with dark feathery limbs that blossomed against the flesh of her insides like foreign flora.

"For two centuries I fed off a meagre supply of rats and insects without knowing a drop of human blood." Astarion continued at a measured pace. "On animals, I survive. On a drop from one of your friends, I would thrive. And on you? Well, there's the question of it all, but I don't doubt the promise there. A mystery locked, as of yet, if you would only allow me to turn the key."

She realised he had begun to lean towards her, closing much of the previous gap between them. Even as she urged herself to move away, she remained as she was. She could feel the soft tickle of air with each exhale brushing against the skin of her arm. Fallon pressed her lips together firmly.

"So I'm to surmise you want to bite me then." The thought did not disgust her as it should have. 

"In that, you would be correct."

"And what is there to stop you from draining me clean?" The thought was spurred by the look in his eyes. It had grown ravenous, eager for the gratification he plied her for. 

"If my history is any evidence, you would find me more skilled in self-control than in indulgence. You have my gentleman's promise that I would take only as much as I need." 

He reached forward, the backs of his knuckles brushing against the slender curve of her neck. It steadied against the throb of her pulse, kicking nervous as a frightened animal. He would not let her hide her apprehension.

"And you would do me such an honour, being my first. There's something in this for you too, if you need further enticement. I might bring you some answers to your own condition. For that, I would need to taste you. The answer is clear."

Saccharine words from the mouth of a charlatan, her suspicion hissed sharply, don't be naïve. Yet Fallon only held questions where she begged for answers. Allowing him could be an action twofold — gain some trust in exchange for possible enlightenment. She could make a medic of him, he would diagnose her problem, then at least she could hope for a cure.

"If I'm to allow this, then the others cannot know," Fallon said tightly. She didn't want to field their reactions. "Not for now at least."

"Completely understandable! Why, it would be our own little secret. I do quite like the sound of that, don't you?"

She trained her gaze on his. Like a swirling apparition, she saw not just Astarion's hunger but the lights of the taverns from his memory. She did not know the truth behind this memory, only the instinctual dread it summoned. Those smiling, trusting faces were marked by the shade of Cazador's palace, as dark as it marked the man before her. What would he make of her? Was it anything close to what she planned to make of him? 

"So, what will it be? The hour draws ever closer and I have wracked up quite the appetite. If you would return to sleep among the others now, I wouldn't begrudge you. Actually no, that's a lie. I would."

The others. She winced at their mention. Fallon hadn't known what would become of her as the midnight waned, only that she felt too ashamed to return. 

"What will you do after you've ... Drank?" Her intonation rose as she flushed. 'Tasted' felt too intimate. "Fed?"

"We'll figure the verbiage when the matter's less pressing, if it's all the same to you." Astarion's eyes grew distant as he weighed the question. "I think I would go find the largest beast I could and bring it to dust. Just for the hell of it. Just to see that I could. I would report back to you, of course, if you were still about."

The twinkle in his eyes caused a reflexive twinge in her gut. She had expected something more, though she couldn't say just what. Astarion's expectancy impressed upon her. Finally she relented.

"Okay. Yes. You can do it."

Astarion sighed loudly. Doubt washed clean of his features and left only self-satisfaction. Relief. He hadn't expected to win.

"Oh good, you have enough sense to see this is mutually beneficial."

"Don't sound too pleased," Fallon muttered, "it's unbecoming."

"Is it now? Do you prefer it when I'm kindly begging and pleading?"

"I-I just ... I ..." She stuttered, letting out a nervous chuckle. "Can we just get on with this?"

"Hmm, well if the matter is truly settled, would you ...?" He gestured with a wave to her neck. Fallon ran her tongue against her bottom lip and nodded.

"Um, yes. So ... Uh, how do I ..." She began to awkwardly angle it towards him.

"Allow me."

Astarion leaned towards her. Fallon clutched her breath as he cupped the other side of her neck, his touch as tender as a lover's, the pads of his fingers bracing the base of her skull. His hand snaking around her waist to steady her, already she could feel herself fading to weakness, a meekness besetting her. Fallon hadn't felt much in the way of embrace for some moons, before their prior humiliation, and with a strange pang she realised just how much she had yearned for it.

What denial Fallon had lulled reared its ugly head. These fickle thoughts were nonsensical, had she truly grown so dense? Astarion was her salvation from the pathetic oblivion she'd spent her whole life rotting in. Had she lost her mind? Was the tadpole devouring her brain? Stop it, her mind screamed, stop it now.

Fallon open her mouth to stop him just as Astarion closed the gap.

His teeth sank into her tender flesh, her nerve endings singing with pain. White heat hummed from where he had pierced, lips brushing light against her skin. It was like nothing she had experienced before, a deep sting like nettle barbs, yet to describe it as agony paled to what overwhelmed her, for what remained in the wake of pierced skin was primal as a growl and illuminated by the senseless stare of the moon.

By the second she felt herself fading into his clutches, muscles capitulating. Astarion lowered her to the ground by did not abate. She writhed from beneath as a cry rung from her throat, her vision swimming. He might have promised self-control yet it felt as though he were sapping her for all she was worth. Dwindling as the stars as the stars above, her pulse began to slow until it were naught by a steady drumbeat echoing deep against her skull.

Above the noise, she felt the tadpole bucking behind her eye. With a gasp, she felt it connect with his, the two swimming in tandem. In one fell motion, Fallon saw the other side of the coin.

Metallic notes met her tongue, she tasted her own blood, now coursing through his veins. She felt its power, its delectable promise, the grip of his hunger clutching at her brain. Suddenly she felt strong, the kind of strength that could bring any man to his knees, the kind of strength that afforded power. Astarion's ecstasy beat in her chest, strong as the swell of her own heart, and beyond its wave, gratitude. He wanted her to see this boon. He wanted her to know.

The connection severed and once more she found weakness. Fallon's vision blotted, she was losing too much, the world around her falling to a hush. She begged herself to speak as her body sunk beneath the earth. As her consciousness waned and her eyelids descended, faintly a silhouette appeared before her in the growing dark. The opening chords of a harp swelled in her chest, a beckoning hand against her cheek, the warmth of a feminine voice. From the storm emerged a clarion call.

Let go, sweet child, to me. To safe harbour.