Chapter Text
Of their odd little party of misfits and rejects, the druid-girl was no doubt the strangest.
Astarion found Calaestis somehow incomprehensible and at the same time, almost comically predictable. She was the sort who liked to disappear for hours, exploring every nook and cranny, always returning covered in dirt, her plain brown hair tangled and matted with leaves. Her clothing was patched with mismatching fabrics, the cracked leather of her boots somehow held together with mold.
She had mushrooms growing on her horns, of all places.
She was his opposite in every conceivable way.
He'd ignored her at first. He had more important things to focus on, and becoming some kind of mentor to a dirt-smeared wildling was not high on his list of priorities, as it seemed to be for Wyll and Karlach. Why they bothered coddling the girl, he didn't pretend to understand.
Calaestis' odd behaviour continued. She collected mushrooms from the forest floor and the trunks of trees. Sometimes, she'd sit and watch them, humming to herself and murmuring gibberish. The only explanation she ever gave was that she was talking to the mushrooms, as if they were her friends. Probably her only friends, given how strange she acted.
As far as Astarion was concerned, this was the exact kind of strange he could do without. The other druid they'd collected, Halsin, as he called himself, was bearable (no pun intended), if a little annoying.
But this young tiefling woman, barely of age for her species, was too much. He avoided her, and she seemed content to avoid him in return.
They were travelling together for the better part of three weeks before anything changed between them. The disgusting goblin camp was cleared out, and the tiefling refugees insisted on celebrating at their camp. It wasn't Astarion's idea of a good time, but he tolerated it.
He couldn't resist free drink, after all, even if it was below his usual standards.
Astarion found the girl in a tree.
The drunk refugees were singing and dancing raucously, the fires lit for cooking for the celebration. Astarion didn't want to be around any of it, and slipped into the treeline for a quieter, more sober respite.
He almost didn't notice the tiefling druid, curled up in the branches of a large tree and chewing idly on her thumbnail, staring out at the celebration with her strange, pale eyes.
He considered turning back, leaving her to her own devices, but his curiosity won out.
"What are you doing up there, pet?" he asked, sweetening his voice in that easy, practiced way he was so used to doing.
She turned her head, startled, then relaxed a little when she saw him.
"I'm watching," she said simply.
He quirked a brow, his curiosity only growing. He stepped closer to the tree, looking up at her.
"Why don't you go and join them, darling? I'm sure you'll find someone nice to pass the time with, maybe even dance a little. There must be someone there who doesn't mind their dance partner being covered in moss and mold and other such things."
She looked at him for a long moment, her face unreadable, before she came to a conclusion.
"You're making fun of me," she said.
Astarion rolled his eyes. "Yes, well done, you figured it out. No prize for working out the obvious, I'm afraid."
Calaestis watched him with an inquisitive gaze, cooking her head. Again, Astarion was struck by how different the two of them were. He knew his witty jabs were clever, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that's what they were - jabs. Was it so hard for her to differentiate between mockery and sincerity?
"It's a joke, pet. The least you could do is laugh a little," he prompted, but the girl was stubbornly silent.
Astarion sighed. "Alright. Fine. I'll be on my way. You keep watching from afar, if it's really so much fun."
He turned on his heel, ready to walk away.
"Oi," she said indelicately.
He stopped, turning halfway around.
"You're here too," she said, "so you're not enjoying the party either. Why are you hiding?"
Mercifully, his mask of mild amusement didn't slip. He was not expecting that.
"I'm not hiding," he said coolly.
"Liar," she responded, and her tone was not mocking. It was plain, as if she were stating a simple fact.
He sighed, irritated. "Look, just because I'm not dancing with a bunch of drunken half-witted refugees doesn't mean I'm hiding. It simply means I'd rather be alone. If you'll excuse me."
"You're excused," she said without a hint of satire.
He hesitated a moment, looking up at her, and wondered again why in the world he put up with travelling with druids. At least Halsin was easy on the eyes, if anything.
He left the strange creature to her observations, and didn't see her until much later when the revelry had all but died down completely, as she crept on silent feet back to her moldy tent and presumably fell asleep. If she even needed to sleep. Maybe druids were above such mortal activities.
After their conversation that night, however, it seemed the girl was more comfortable around him. She hadn't exactly been afraid of him before, but now she let herself relax in his presence, when walking beside him or sitting by the fire.
It was still odd, Astarion thought. He hadn't intended to befriend her, but it wasn't all bad, he supposed. Having someone on his side with her abilities could prove useful after all.
He would have to wait and see.