Chapter Text
“Fucking Hells on bikes,” Karlach groaned. “Why did I pick a character with full body paint?” She patted silver onto her cheekbones, frowning into the mirror. She'd do her hands last, obviously, but kept misjudging how far she had to angle her palm not to brush off more paint than she’d put on.
“Because you are committed to your craft,” Lae’zel replied staunchly. Her githyanki friend had already applied her human body tone-- fucking immaculate, of course, Karlach thought with admiration-- and was now adding a vivid splash of red across the prosthetic nose. "It shows your confidence in your abilities. Anyone expending lesser effort is demonstrating cowardice."
Karlach smiled at her. "Thanks, Lae."
"I'm simply stating the truth," she said, choosing another brush from her selection. On her half of the hotel sink, Lae'zel had an entire array of makeup, bases, brushes, sealants, setting powders, cream, polymer clay, a backup wig, and backup noses. The brushes were arranged from smallest to largest like knives.
Karlach had... sponges. She was more of a 'dash it on and hope for the best' kind of cosplayer. But she was trying! She'd even packed two this time. Still, at this rate it’d take her hours to finish her damn bodypaint. And the Carnival opened at nine. She scowled at her reflection.
Might as well take a break from painting for a second before she got too annoyed. With a sigh, she set down her sponge and dug around in her backpack for her horn rings. When she pulled back she'd left about half her arm paint on the fabric. Godsdamnit.
She turned to the mirror and slid the rings on carefully. The disguise took: her hair shimmered white, her horns lightened from bone-brown to bone-gray; and her eyes dulled from sunlight to a cloudy sky. That part was a little sad honestly - but it fit the character. And it was a lot easier than fucking with wigs and spraypainting and contacts. She grinned, trying it out, and her greyscale self grinned back. It looked deadly. That was the most important bit.
Technically she could've done her whole costume with a more expensive disguise ring. But one, she didn’t have that kind of money laying around, and two, like Lae had said, she wasn’t a fucking coward.
Her suit and trenchcoat had turned out pretty good. She'd done a hack job of the buttons, admittedly, and maybe she should've known not to try it herself; she'd never sewed a lot except her own wounds. The second Lae'zel had spotted them she'd insisted on fixing it. She'd redone the whole thing while muttering under her breath, which felt like kind of a slight, but Karlach didn't deny her needlework was a lot better. She had refused Karlach offering her cash, so she was going to buy her drinks all weekend instead.
The coat was loose enough that Karlach had decided not to cut a hole for her tail. (It also meant she'd have less body to paint.) Instead she'd snipped a pair of grey leggings to wear as a sock for her tail bit sticking out the hem, which fit nicely. The quarterstaff she'd commissioned a few months ago was rad as fuck.
Oh yeah. It was all coming together.
Karlach had thought about going all-in on the islander costume instead, but the Tav Center always cranked the air conditioning way too high for summer and she’d rather not freeze her nipples off. ... more quietly, she didn’t want to give people that much opportunity to stare at her scars, even under the paint.
No, no, let's not go there, soldier. That way lies fucking madness. Karlach inhaled, focusing on fiddling with her hair ornaments and not on anything else.
Her distraction was helped by the loud knocking from the hall. “Confection delivery!” A voice called.
“Gale!” Karlach abandoned the sink and bounded over to the door, yanking it open as her tail swished happily.
Said wizard teetered back into the hall under the force of the full Cliffgate Hug, laughing, while precariously balancing a large container in his other hand. “Good to see you again, Karlach.”
"No shit! Gods, it's been months. You can teleport, what's your excuse?" She pulled back, beaming, which quickly got apologetic when she noticed the gray smudges on his overcoat. Stepping to the side to let him in, she said, "Uh-- you can get that out no problem, right?"
"What? -- ah."
“Charming as always,” a posh voice behind her drawled.
Karlach spun around again. “Star!” She shouted. She pounced on their elven friend, trying to throw her arms around him too.
Astarion ducked out of the way, faster than she thought was really fair. “Oh no, no, no!” He said, raising an elegantly manicured finger at her accusingly. “I heard you bellowing before we got to the door, you are not ruining this coat with your paint hands.”
Karlach groaned in protest, but dropped her arms from squishing posture. "Sorry, mate," she said sheepishly. Because literally only then she'd remembered: Astarion had a thing about sudden physical affection, sometimes.
A smile grew on his face as he passed her. “It's alright. And not that you don’t look lovely, darling,” he said as she closed the door behind them, “I’ve just spent a lot of time with this coat. I’m rather attached to it. Metaphorically.”
“All good.” She smiled back at him (wincing when her tail whacked into the nearby garbage can).
Once he scuffed his boots, Astarion faced her, raising his voice a little to be heard above the dull roar of everyone greeting Gale and his snacks. "So, what do you think?" He did a quick turn, hands out in a flourish. He was already wearing his costume, down to the dagger sheaths and fancy-boy buckled boots.
It was a very cool coat. Blue and royal purple, puffy sleeves, waistcoat-y, with burnished buttons. He’d worn it at the Ages Fair last summer where they'd all got stupendously drunk around other people with fairy wings and sparkling glitter tattoos. He'd added an earring and done his eyeteeth the way he always did when they went out. The games didn't actually have vampires, but she could appreciate the commitment; and fangs were awesome, anyway.
All in all he looked like he'd stepped out of the fucking fourteen-hundreds, she thought approvingly. His clutched coffee cup and car keys dangling from his fingers in his other hand were the things that seemed out of place, in comparison.
Gods how she'd ride him to the Feywild and back if he wanted. Instead of saying that out loud, because she'd been out of Avernus for over a year now and remembered some tact, a bit, she just said, "You know you always look great."
Astarion preened. "Maybe. But it is so nice to hear again."
Everyone had clustered around the sitting bed when they joined them. The room had two, and the other one was covered with supplies and bags and stuff. (At least six of them would be sleeping in here, but assuming they didn't all just pass out on the floor by the time they got back, two to a bed and Lae'zel and Shadowheart cuddling in the bathtub would fit them fine. Besides, Karlach could take the floor. She'd slept way rougher than a plush carpet with nice soft duvets in a safe, dry room with friends.)
She pulled at her coat's shoulders a little to cool off; the air was starting to heat up with all of them packed in.
The memory of it, the heat in her chest, lit a small ember of panic. She pressed it down. Focus, Cliffgate.
"I am aware that you have your professorly duties," Lae'zel was saying judgmentally with a judgy expression. "I simply don't understand why that would prevent you from responding to messages swiftly." The red smeared artfully over her nose made her look even more intense than usual; but the effect was ruined by the cupcake she gnoshed on. On one hand Karlach was surprised she was eating at all when she'd done her face up already. On the other hand, it was stupid cute.
"I've had my schedule full for the last three weeks!" Gale protested. "I can't be seen leaving the university early."
"Then bring your costume there," Wyll said with a grin. "Robes fit the dress code, don't they?"
Shadowheart was watching her girlfriend noshing the cupcake with a small crooked smile, but she refocused on their wizard. "Even if they don't, that'd hardly affect your cell service. You should answer your phone, Gale."
He waved both his hands defensively. "I get so many messages, a man has to prioritize, I'm sorry. And not exactly, Wyll - only for ceremonial purposes. It isn't casual daily wear," Gale argued back. Then he paused and added with a tinge of pride, "Though it is a shame to deprive the other faculty of my visage in them. Handsome devil, aren't I?"
'Phrasing, mate', flickered across Karlach's mind before she kicked it back whence the fuck it came. Gale was right, anyway. Purple suited him well; and he looked so natural in the robe, even with the capelet. Like Astarion, it was easy to imagine he'd just stepped from a portal back in time instead of across the city.
"As handsome as you are modest," the man in question said. He sat on the edge of the mattress closest to Karlach.
"Ah, our erstwhile elf arrives!" Wyll beckoned them, beaming. "What took you so long, then, friend?"
"Your lateness has even less excuse than his," Shadowheart added, tilting her head at Gale, who snorted.
"I'm hardly the last, though, am I?"
"The others at least texted!"
"So they are still coming?" Karlach interrupted; she'd been getting a bit worried about their group's missing faces.
Wyll nodded across the bed at her while the other two kept bickering goodnaturedly. He said something about Dammon and picking people up after work, though some of it went right over her head in muddle of other voices.
Astarion shrugged, accusations rolling off him like water off a goose. "I was getting coffee with my family, if you really must know. We may have lost track of time," he said airily, holding up his First Cup takeout as proof.
"Family events? Completely understandable." Gale jumped at the topic change. "Which of your relatives were you meeting with?"
A complicated look flickered across Astarion's face, so fast Karlach almost didn't catch it. His voice remained light. "My sister, Dalyria, and our niece Nita with her."
Wyll answered earnestly, "That's lovely - how are they?"
"Both fine. Dal's getting her medical license re-certification in a few months." His tone was still friendly but it was starting to get posher, which was a telltale sign this was thin ice. That was a funny thing about Astarion, Karlach thought; he acted like he wanted nothing more than to talk about himself but didn't actually like questions much.
"A respectable profession," Lae'zel allowed. (Her voice was a bit off too. Whenever siblings came up, she seemed... not fascinated; jealous and a bit sad, maybe? Like she was afraid of missing out. Guess the whole 'growing up in a cult' thing will do that to you.)
"And you were in the coffee shop with that?" Gale asked, gesturing at Astarion's coat. "Not that it doesn't suit you. Actually - wait, why are all of you costumed up now?" His eyes narrowed. "I thought the parade was tomorrow?"
"Hey, we're not all done up yet," Karlach pointed out. She still had half her face, neck, the very top of her tits, and her arms to paint. The second part she could concede. "But yeah, it's tomorrow. The bar opens tonight though. Might as well get the party started while we're here, right?"
Lae'zel nodded, adding, "A full drill will give us advantage over others who haven't prepared come morning." She meant the cosplay contest.
"Seeing what everyone makes is one of the best parts," Wyll chimed in. "Besides, we're far from the only ones. Did you see the Julie Farkas with the cazador balloon on your way in? That thing was huge, there's no boot big enough."
Gale perked up with wizardly glee. "Ah, yes! Likely a levitation charm rather than helium-"
From the corner of her eye, Karlach noticed Astarion twitch. It wasn't quite a flinch. But it was definitely a thing. She frowned, turning to ask what was wrong.
Maybe he noticed. Before she could get a word out he stood up and stepped around her with that annoying grace he had. "Excuse me, darling," he said under his breath as Gale talked enthusiastically about the artist who had been selling handmade Vault merch at a lobby kiosk. In the space between Karlach's blink, he'd vacated their little circle entirely.
"Their wasteland omelette certainly looked... authentic. Not that I have plans to partake myself," Gale finished. "Speaking of - does anyone want pizza?"
"Oh fuck yeah," Karlach enthused, her attention snapping back to him. "Dibs on a mutton bits slice?"
"Mutton bits noted," he confirmed with a smile at her.
Lae'zel cut in, "I will also have meat."
"How many would you be willing to order on our behalf, good saer?" Wyll asked.
"And where from?" Shadowheart added, flicking her silver bangs out of her eyes.
Gale answered them backwards. "Triple Pizza, as many as you all care to chip in with, Lae'zel could you specify--"
Karlaxh grinned to herself watching her friends squabble like birds around a bunch of seed. Fuck yes, pizza.
... am I forgetting something? What was— She looked over her shoulder and caught sight of white curls. Right, elf interventioning.
Plucking up two of the remaining cupcakes, she slid off the group discussion bed and went to join Astarion.
He was loitering by the window, holding his cardboard cup by his face like a shield. The sun had sunk behind downtown's buildings a little while ago, but traces of oranges and purples and golds still lit up the clouds real pretty. It reminded her of the watercolours an auntie in her old neighbourhood had used to paint, set up on the sidewalk in front of their building on nice days.
"No thank you, darling," Astarion said offhand, his eyes on the horizon like he was looking for something.
"Aww, but you didn't even see what I have!" Karlach waved a cupcake in front of him enticingly.
Inside, her spirits fell a bit. Astarion never ate with them; not at bars or anyone’s house, and he always had an excuse why he couldn’t make the lunches Lae’zel scheduled with military precision. He didn't bring his own snacks anywhere, either, except a fancy tea thermos sometimes. Karlach knew that some elf families had a whole thing with accepting food, but he'd never mentioned anything like that. Fuck-- if she really thought about it she hadn't seen him eat anything in the year or so that they'd known each other. She worried, was all.
"Come on," she wheedled, "You'll upset Gale. You don't want to see him make the sad wizard eyes, do you?"
He looked at the sun a moment longer and finally turned to her. "Oh, I suppose," he said with an exaggerated sigh.
She beamed and handed him one. Bright blue, keeping the yellow-frosted one for herself.
Karlach leaned against the window, realized her mistake, winced and then pulled away, only to look down and see a grey smudge on the glass. She'd clean it up before they went to sleep. That'd be fine, right?
When she glanced up she, of course, immediately caught Astarion's gaze. He raised his eyebrows at her. She stuck her tongue out at him in response.
(Gods but she wanted to kiss his grin into his pointy little face.)
"Anyway," she said, then hesitated. She had to try to keep her voice from getting too soft. He hated feeling like he was being talked down to - which, same, but she never meant it that way, her voice just got like that around him. Truly, her brains turned to mush around the man. “You alright, soldier?" She tried. "Not just being over here, that’s fine, it’s getting bloody hot anyway. But I saw the.” She waved her hand up and down covertly.
Astarion glanced over his shoulder towards the others. “Hm? Yes, I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting that particular topic of conversation to come up.”
Karlach ran over what everyone had said for anything unusual and came up empty. “Cosplaying?”
He snorted. “No, darling. There was a... very old employer of mine, I was stuck with for years, who was named Cazador. He was an absolute bastard. Haven't heard so much as a whisper of him in a long while before today.”
“Right,” she said, hoping she sounded encouraging. He didn't go into his past a lot. Guess when you have tons, there's less that matters to you.
That was a thing about talking with elves, or dwarves or gnomes, any long-lived people: when they said ‘very old’, in her experience, they could mean anything from like 'twenty years ago' to 'back when people straight-up killed kids in the street for trying to pickpocket them’ and shit. It all depended on how old that person was. (Admittedly, that could be hard to tell. When she'd first met Astarion she'd thought he was about her age and just really into theatre.) From the look on his face she guessed it was the latter, though; and whatever ‘employment’ the bastard might have given him wasn't the kind where he'd had a choice.
(In the Avernus-shaped pit in her heart, red light flickered.)
"And, I suppose, seeing Dal and Nita didn't help matters," Astarion added, almost to himself. He was looking out the window again. Catching her confusion, he explained, "Dal was employed alongside me. All our siblings were. Nita as well-- though in a different capacity, thank the gods. Cazador was stringent about such things. Contractual obligations, you know."
Karlach did know.
She wasn't really sure what to do with that. Family was a special thing, tricky to talk about. Let alone what she was guessing was his slavery, no matter if this Cazador fuckhead had literal infernal contracts or not. “... and he’s dead now?” She guessed.
He grinned, flashing his acrylic fangs. “And he's very dead now.”
She held up her cupcake with a grim grin of her own. “Cheers, soldier.”
They clinked them like they were champagne glasses, and the air between them eased.
She popped hers in her mouth with a happy groan. Any cupcakes were good cupcakes (especially after ten fucking years)-- but she’d missed Gale's cooking especially. Not as much as she missed him, obviously, but still.
Astarion full-on laughed at her for that, the airy giggle that always made Karlach’s tail curl up happily in response. It only dipped a bit when he handed her back his own. “Here, you’ll enjoy this more than me."
Well, she'd tried. Karlach took it back, thanking him even though she’d technically given it to him, and chomped it as well. So of course she got icing all over the place. Damn it.
... was it her imagination, or were his ears getting a little bit redder while she licked her fingers clean?
“That paint is nontoxic, isn’t it?” Astarion asked mildly, eyes flicking between hers and her mouth. “We can’t have you poisoning yourself before the party.”
She laughed, her head tilted back. “Nah, the beer’s going to do way more damage."
Honestly she wasn't planning to get tanked, yet; on the first night she usually just bounced from corner to corner keeping everyone together. They were all adults, obviously, but... she worried. (About Shadowheart especially. Though Karlach loved her, she was an absolute lightweight, and drunk Shads loved to get into fun-bad ideas but was always close to tipping to bad-bad ideas instead. She was Karlach’s default check up-slash-retrieval point. It was weird that Fringe was twenty-odd years older than her, with how she partied, even though half-elf fifties and tiefling fifties weren't quite the same thing. But, Karlach guessed the whole 'growing up in a cult' thing would do that to you too.)
"I cannot understand how you have so much access to all kinds of alcohol and you'd still rather drink foaming piss."
Despite Astarion's snark, he was still looking at her with that soft expression he had sometimes. Karlach wasn't sure when she'd first started noticing it, or if it actually was especially for her, but it felt special.
Fuck, she really couldn't stand it anymore. "Can we hug?" She asked, holding her arms out hopefully.
"Can we?" The softness morphed into a grin. "I suppose we can. As long as you're careful with those forearms of yours." He looked like a cat who'd gotten into cream. Karlach didn't get the joke. Didn't matter though, she was just happy to get some hugging in.
She threw his arms around him, a touch looser than she'd been at the door and minding her painted bits. He laughed into her coat, low and happy.
Gods, it was like she'd jumped onto a cloud. He was pleasantly buffer than you'd think, not that she was noticing his muscles more than was normal. And he smelled so good. Karlach wasn't sniffing him, okay, but there was only so much a woman could do when her face was so close to someone's face the ends of his hair were tickling her ear. To avoid elf-squishing she tried to reroute some of her energy into her tail, which wagged furiously. "It's good to see you," she told him, kind of by accident muffling it into his neck. (She was being so normal about this.)
"Likewise, darling."
"Are we doing hugs now?" Wyll's voice said from, abruptly, very nearby. Karlach could hear the grin in it. "Astarion, I never thought I'd see the day."
They pulled apart, Astarion visibly doing a paint check and dusting his sleeves before answering. "It's not always everyone's business," he said primly. His ears, Karlach was delighted to see, were slightly flushed. "And aren't you still getting ready?" He gestured to Wyll's lack of chestplate.
Wyll shook his head. "I decided to go for a ranger instead of a warrior. One of the perks is lighter armour. The Blade Of Frontiers, at your service." He bowed like a gallant prince.
The tighter tunic and tabard suited him well, Karlach thought; though Wyll was handsome in anything. She felt like the eyepatch he'd worn instead of his usual prosthetic fit with Shad's whole pirate thing as well - especially since they were, technically, a group costume.
Astarion laughed. "The son of the premier, a rogueish type! What would your father say?"
"Ha ha." Wyll smiled at them. "It's good seeing you two are together. Being friendly, I mean."
That sounded... specific. Karlach narrowed her eyes at him and let go of Astarion's waist to point. "Oi, I'm always friendly! Unless someone's a dick."
"In which case they deserve it," Astarion agreed.
"Of course, forgive me." Wyll held up his hands in a playfully placating way. "I only meant it as—"
Whatever he meant, Karlach didn't find out, because Lae'zel's voice cut through the room and caught all their attention. "Fifteen minutes!" She called sharply.
Wyll and Karlach answered at the same time. "Thank you fifteen!"
"Shit!"
She turned to Astarion hurriedly. "Sorry, soldier, I--"
Astarion shooed her away, smiling.
Wyll laughed at her when she stepped past him, as well; she threw him a bird as she dodged Gale and his mirror image on her way to the bathroom.
Lae'zel and Shadowheart had taken it over again. Their gith back at her post in front of the mirror, painstakingly redoing her lip paint, and Shadowheart perched on the top of the toilet behind her girlfriend re-weaving Lae's hair into braids.
The bathroom was barely big enough for two honestly, but Karlach had never met a small space she couldn't budge her way into. She sidled next to them, careful of her good horn on the doorframe. (If she was lucky she'd remember to duck later, too, but she wouldn't count on it. 1.9 meters wasn't even that tall, and fucking yet, the extra few centimetres always made a difference on whether she'd chip her horn or not.)
Her backpack still sat on the floor. Without the room to lean down, she looped her tail under the handle and hefted it up the rest of the way with her hand, nudging it onto the corner of the counter. Thankfully her setting powder was in the front pocket. Her arms were a lost cause at this point, but she could finish her face at least.
"Not doing the wig thing after all?" She asked as she slapdashed more grey together.
Lae'zel flared her nostrils but didn't reply out loud, perfecting the corners of her mouth.
"The grip wasn't holding as well as she wanted," Shadowheart confirmed, glancing at Karlach through the mirror with a smile. "But we can't just have hair in her face, of course."
Lae'zel leaned backwards, squinting at her reflection from various angles. She turned to Shadowheart. "Tell me, how—"
Shadowheart kissed her. Then pulled back, grinning, their lips now the same colour. "Looks great, Lae'zel," she said.
Lae'zel sighed and rolled her eyes to the ceiling for a few seconds. "My joy," she said finally. "If we are late to the opener it will be your fault."
"I'll take that loss," Shadowheart said, smug.
"Awww," Karlach cooed, unable to help herself. Seeing them happy always warmed her whole heart.
Her mood faltered, tail sagging, when Lae'zel looked towards her and winced. "... is it really that bad?"
The other women exchanged glances. "I'll help you blend it in," Shadowheart offered.
"Yes, that would be best. I will prepare my weapon in the meantime," Lae'zel said magnanimously. She made one last adjustment to her hair and left, calling into the room at large. "Ten minutes!"
Karlach swapped spots with Shadowheart, sitting on the lid while she picked through her makeup supplies. "Thanks, Fringe."
"Any time." Quickly and expertly, she started shading Karlach's scars and cheek ridges to smooth them out into the gray.
Only one small problem - the other woman helping her necessarily meant that her tits were at Karlach's eye-level. And with her cosplay they were more in view than usual- Shadowheart's long-sleeved pirate's shirt had, in-character, half its buttons undone, and her cleavage was framed prettily by the chunky gold necklaces she'd been so happy to thrift months ago. Karlach felt her face warm. She tried to keep her eyes on the ceiling; she knew she had the subtlety of a dragon in a glassblowers', but she wasn't a creep. Just beset by hot people everywhere she looked tonight apparently. Godsdamn,
In between brushing, Shadowheart raised her eyebrows at her. "You and Astarion certainly seemed friendly."
"Yeah?" Karlach beamed. "I guess so-- sorry, sorry," she added when Shadowheart tutted at her for moving. "It's just nice to see him."
"I'm sure," Shadowheart agreed, with a small smile.
Ridges blended, makeup set, and boobs painted to her neckline, Karlach was shooed out so Shdowheart could check her kohl again.
The room was in a last-minute flurry. Astarion had rejoined everyone and was sitting on the coat bed, sewing a loose thread back onto Wyll's costume with tiny quick stitches and biting the thread off at the ends. Gale was on the phone again, talking about wizard shit it seemed like, which Karlach was a bit dissapointed by. But she forgave him when she saw him flick his fingers to guide a mage hand, which was floating the pizza boxes over to the hotel dresser. Fuck yes. The smell was fragrant as hell. Karlach's stomach growled.
Lae'zel perched on the other side of the coat bed, meticulously polishing a greatsword that was absolutely not peacebound or made of foam. It was flagrantly against con rules and probably also illegal. Karlach didn’t know how she’d even gotten it into the hotel.
Wyll stood tabard-less by the door talking to-- Karlach recognized with joy-- their dragonborn friend. She had made it after all!
"Hey!" Karlach shouted as soon as Wyll had stepped back, and pounced past him to envelope her into a hug.
Wyll lauging behind them, she squeezed Karlach back. She already had her costume on as well, with a staff at her side and a dash of red paint across her snout that looked brilliant on her white scales.
"It's good to see you, soldier."
"You too--" She winced as Lae'zel shouted, "Five minutes, istiks!"
"And you got here just in time," Karlach grinned, clapping her on the shoulder and pulling her inside.
The others converged to greet her, so Karlach stepped aside and went for her own staff which she'd left leaning on the far wall.
"Everyone remember your identification!" Gale called. They were partying in the hotel today so he wasn't technically the DD, but it was his usual duty, and he took it seriously.
Karlach, holstering the prop to her back, cursed to herself. Her packsack was still in the bathroom. She'd forgotten it a third fucking time.
Shadowheart was at the mirror still and Gale had dipped in to do last-minute checks on his hair, so she just sidled behind them to grab it, and then backed out again.
She sat on the bed heavily and started rooting through it. Honestly, she really didn't get the point of this shit; everyone in the building who had a scrap of magic would be done up to fucking Elysium and back with their costumes. Karlach thought of Lae'zel earlier and smiled. If they're cowards, anyway. But maybe the con comm gave the bartenders anti-illusion rings or something. Either way, no skin off her back.
Her long-suffering and deformed Kirby wallet was actually where she'd remembered leaving it, which was a nice surprise. Finding her ID in it meant digging through five hundred random receipts, crumpled grocery notes, an unexpected bright blue fiver (nice), her lucky Charmeleon, and two versions of her health card; but finally she pulled it free with a victorious crow.
Alfira's photo fluttered out with it. Karlach startled, snatching it out of the air before it could get lost.
Something moved quick in her peripheral. She tensed up despite herself, muscles ready to lash out, but it was just Astarion. He was looking down his nose at the photo in her hand, his eyes narrow. "Well. Is that your partner? I didn't realize you were involved with anyone," he said, voice gone frosty. "Carrying photos has an old-fashioned charm, I suppose."
"What?" The fuck was his problem? Karlach frowned, glaring up at him--
Wait. I don't think we told him yet, did we?
No, we didn't. Chill out, babe. She took a deep breath, easing her hackles down. "Nothing like that. She's my donor," Karlach explained softly. She tapped her knuckles on her breastbone, safe under her shirt and the Inquisitor's coat. "The doctors gave me her heart."
Karlach didn't know how the other young woman had died, but her grieving girlfriend had asked to meet her after Karlach had been recovering in the hospital for a while. She'd given her the photo then. Alfira would be glad someone has a second chance after she's gone, Lakrissa had said, smiling through teary eyes.
Karlach kept it out of respect and as a reminder to herself: all the good people she owed her life. The story feels private, way more than her scars and mental shit from being in Avernus. But all her friends here knew, anyway.
"Oh." Something sharp in Astarion's shoulders eased, and his expression softened. "I'm — I'm sorry, then."
Karlach smiled despite herself; seeing Astarion at a loss for words was rare. "No worries, Star." Thank you, she thought to Alfira, carefully restashing the photo. "You have yours too right?"
Astarion rolled his eyes, but held up his own card between two of his fingers. He had a slim and perfectly evenly-folded leather wallet that had probably never gotten milkshake spilled on it or been lost under his bed for a week. His ID didn't look quite like him, but his pictures never did. Cameras did weird things to people, Karlach guessed.
There was a shing of metal scraping against itself behind her.
Karlach hid a flinch as she swept to her feet - but it was only Lae'zel, shoring her ridiculous greatsword onto her back. She made herself relax.
"Time," Lae'zel announced.
Fuck! "Wait, group photo!” Karlach shouted, holding her phone up. "Lae?"
Lae'zel grumbled at her, but sighed. "I'll allow it."
Everyone obligingly crowded around. Astarion held back for a second, fiddling with one of his rings, and she was about to be crestfallen before he stepped back into the huddle next to Lae’zel. Karlach beamed.
It was hot with everyone crammed together, but her face didn't feel like it was running. Gotta buy Shads a drink when we get down there, she reminded herself. The heat didn't bother her, this time - her heart was too busy fluttering from having so many of her loved ones so close. She had to consciously wrap her tail around her knee so it wouldn't thwap anybody.
She hummed for a couple seconds as she held out her phone; her mage hand crystallizing in the air in a sparkle of green. It bobbed to head height and floated her phone backwards until they were all in frame and, after her whistle, spun around to use the good camera.
Gale sent his own phone to join hers a little less haphazardly. ("Multiple original sources means safer data," he loved saying, whatever that meant.) “Everyone say ‘cheese wheel’,” he piped up from the back.
“Cheese wheel,” they chorused as the flash went off.
"Alright! Everyone ready?" Their dragonborn friend called, looking over the room.
At the general positive susurrus, Wyll stepped forwards and hefted his (foam) sword over his shoulder. “Then we sally onwards at last!”
With scattered cheers, their party trooped into the hall and onto the weekend's adventure.