"Where the fuck are the others?" He chanced a peek over the top of the cart, ducking back behind it as another arrow came sailing towards them.
"Shadowheart's down," Taran wheezed, peering out at the cleric's prone form. "Karlach's pinned down by that big fucker."
"Shit." Astarion tried to aim over the cart with his bow, only drawing more fire from the archers across the battle. "Shit."
"Astarion." Taran grabbed at his shoulder, pulling him around to face her. "Astarion I'm going to try something stupid."
"What - "
"You have to stay behind the cart, alright? Don't move."
"What are you - "
"And...just in case it doesn't work..."
"In case what d - "
She cut him off by yanking him in by the collar of his shirt, almost slamming their lips together in a kiss. He felt his fang catch on her lower lip as she pulled away, his mouth having dropped open in shock and confusion, and the last thing he saw was her smile as she clambered to her feet and dashed into the center of the battlefield.
"Wait - don't - Taran!" He tried to follow but was met with another fire arrow, making him stumble back behind the cover of the cart and watch helplessly as Taran stood in the middle of the fray with her arms spread wide. His hair stood on end as static gathered in the air, coalescing at the point of her staff, crackling blue-white in the air until she slammed the butt of the staff in the dirt and the world went white.
The light took a moment to fade, but when it did everyone was on the ground - except Taran. She stood right where she'd been before, staff in one hand. Then both hands on the staff as she doubled over. Then she collapsed into the dust.
Astarion was running before she'd hit the ground, sliding to a stop on his knees next to her.
"No. No, no, no." It was a chant under his breath as he grabbed at her shoulder, rolling her over. There was a panic running through him that he didn't recognize, a feeling of dread somewhere under his ribs and lodged in his throat. Her hair and clothes were singed, faint burns crawling up her arms like lightning strikes. "Wake up, damn you - "
"'st'rin?" Her eyes blinked open slowly, struggling to focus on his face.
"Taran." Her name was little more than an exhalation, a prayer of thanks to whatever god had pulled this one off.
She reached up shakily, pressing her finger against her lip. It came away with a spot of blood, and she showed it to him.
"Y'cut m'lip," she slurred. It took Astarion a solid minute to realize what she was saying, and when it clicked a hysterical laugh started bubbling up in his chest until it came bursting out of him. He doubled over with it, pressing his forehead to hers.
"You absolute lunatic," he breathed. "I'm going to fucking kill you."
"Beat y'to it," she murmured, and he just shook his head, holding her a little tighter, feeling the beat of her pulse and her breath on his cheek. She was alive. Electrocuted, burned, and delirious, but alive.
Karlach carried Shadowheart over at that point, and they all felt the ripple of healing magic wash over them. Astarion dug through her bag for a potion, uncorking it and practically shoving it at Taran, staring at her silently until she downed it.
"There are easier ways to get a kiss from me, you know." She glanced over at him, a look of knowing in her eyes that he wasn't entirely sure he was comfortable with. Thankfully she just went along with the flirt, shoving the cork back into the empty potion bottle as she did.
"And what would those be?"
"Asking, for one."
"Alright then." She put the bottle in her bag, leaning towards him. "Kiss me?"
Something loosened in his chest, like some part of him hadn't been fully convinced that she'd actually survived until that moment. He leaned over, pressing his lips gently to hers and drawing back with a smile.
"Now was that so hard?"
"Mmm...I think my way was more exciting." She grinned at him, eyes sparkling with mirth.
"You're absolutely insane, did you know that?"
"Can't question my effectiveness, though, can you?"
"...I mean, no, everyone is very dead. But that almost included you!"
"Careful, Astarion." She tilted her head, smiling gently at him. "People might start to think you care." His knee-jerk response of mock offended bluster faded as she reached out and took his hand. “Would that be the worst thing in the world?”
His thoughts flashed back to her prone form, her unfocused eyes.
“No,” he said, uncharacteristically quiet as he studied their interlocked fingers. “No, I don't think it would.”
