"Not at all," Gale responded, clearly through clenched teeth. It made the corner of Astarion's mouth twitch upwards in the barest approximation of a smile, but only for a moment. Taran had been in a state ever since they'd learned of the tieflings' plight, and didn't seem to be any closer to calm. He himself was within striking distance of their agitated tail, but for the moment she had stopped on the opposite side of the fire from him.
"If we clear out these goblins..." It was anybody's guess as to who she was addressing, as she stared into the distance instead of looking at any of them. "The tieflings can travel safely, right? Well, more safely."
"Possibly," Gale said after a moment where no one spoke up. "Or this 'Halsin' may prove a more compassionate leader than Kagha." Taran gave a quiet, non-committal hum and resumed pacing.
"Why do we care?" Astarion hadn't meant for the irate thought to make it past his lips, but irritation, hunger and exhaustion were all taking their toll on his impulse control. Taran stopped in mid-step, her path having brought her back around to his side of the campfire. He looked up at her, finding himself pinned with a glare.
"Why do we care?" She echoed him very quietly, as though she'd misheard him. She hadn't, and they both knew it. The rest of camp had gone very quiet, everyone else watching the two of them.
Conversely, the inside of Astarion's head was suddenly very loud, and not from the tadpole. No, it was just the familiar sound of Astarion cursing himself to every hell he could recall at the moment, trying to salvage the situation before it took too long to play off as a gaffe. He didn't need to be starting shit with Taran if his plan was going to work, but here he was, meeting her gaze coolly as she pulled herself up to her full height. She even lifted her chin so she could look down at him, which only worked because he was seated.
"You're right. You're absolutely right." There was no small amount of venom in the words, but they were still fully not what he'd expected to hear. Astarion only lifted an eyebrow in response, masking the full extent of his confusion. "They're not fucking you or feeding you, so what good are they? Feed them to the goblins and let them rot."
Ah, there it was. Each word had more acid to it until they were practically spitting them at him, and he felt himself unfolding himself from his seat before he fully registered the motion. Impulse control, a voice snapped from the back of his mind, one he soundly ignored as he strode up to Taran.
"Precisely," he hissed into her face. He had a good four or five inches on her in his bare feet, but her boots brought them nearly level with each other so he barely had to incline his head to continue meeting her glare. "In case you hadn't noticed, we have our own problems to deal with. If this Halsin can get the parasites out of our head, so be it, but that is where my interest in this situation begins and ends. I'm sorry if you find that unpalatable."
What felt concerningly like actual electricity began prickling the air around them, to the point Lae'zel began swearing and hauling her armor away from the tent. Astarion's eyes never left Taran's, that infernal blue drawing him in and pinning him in place. Their tadpoles connected, anger feeding back and forth between them until he wasn't sure whose he was feeling anymore, or where the squirming feeling in his chest was coming from.
Then all at once the crackling died down to almost nothing, along with her half of the connection, and he was left with the realization that the awful uncomfortable feeling was his.
"No you're not," they said quietly. "You've never been sorry for anything in your life. Your selfishness has always served you and it always will." She shrugged, almost helplessly. "Why wouldn't it?"
Taran turned away from him, snatching their staff from the side of their tent and walking off into the trees.
No one else moved for a long moment, until Shadowheart threw her hands up and stood.
"We don't need to be going off alone," she muttered, shooting Astarion a cutting look as she followed after Taran.
"Yes." He clenched his jaw, swallowing hard. "Well."
After another long moment, he turned on his heel and stalked off in the other direction. He couldn't help but notice that no one came after him.
Is what he told himself. In truth he was hiding, and he knew it. What he didn't know was why. He was right. They didn't need to be worried about a bunch of refugees when they could sprout extra appendages at any moment.
But every time he played back the argument in the middle of camp that awful feeling came back, one he would have classified as guilt if he thought he had anything to feel guilty for.
When he made no headway on convincing himself on that front, he attempted to push it from his mind by making a new contingency plan. Shadowheart possibly, no one with sense argued with the local cleric. Or Gale, as much as it made his lip curl to think of it. He just seemed like he'd be so easy to mold into the shape Astarion needed.
They were both close to Taran, though. Everyone was close to Taran. Except him, now, because he'd had to run his mouth and ruin the only good thing he'd almost managed to secure for himself since waking up in the sun.
He was fully considering just laying down in the grass until the forest reclaimed his body when he heard the brush cracking behind him. He spun to his feet, only to find Taran staring at him from across the clearing he'd claimed for his sulking.
"Your stealth needs work," he said instead of any sane greeting. "The trick is not to polymorph yourself into a rampaging boar first."
A scowl twisted her face and he watched as she consciously smoothed it away. "I came to apologize," she said, sounding like she thoroughly regretted the decision.
"Oh?" Astarion lounged back against a nearby tree. "I'm listening."
Taran took a deep, bracing breath.
"I should not have spoken to you the way I did this afternoon," she said, forcing it out so quickly it was almost a single word. "It was not fair and it was not kind. We are strangers brought together by an exceedingly strange situation, we do not have to share each other's ideals to co-exist until we've found a way out of it."
It was obviously rehearsed, and Astarion wondered idly when they'd begun crafting it. It was just as obviously made with extreme reluctance, given the way they were looking at him, and he began to wonder more directly as to why they'd bothered.
But it was also an easy way back into their good graces, so he shaped his face into a smile. "Apology accepted," he said with a little tip of a bow.
Taran sighed, looking away. "Good," they muttered. "I'm going back."
They were headed back into the brush when Astarion's impulse control failed him once more. "Why?"
Taran looked back. "Because that's where my bed is."
"No, I mean - " Astarion gestured vaguely at her. "Why are these refugees so important to you?"
He'd expected an answer like "because they're my fellow tieflings" or even "because it's the right thing to do". What he hadn't expected was for her to stand there for a solid minute, a furrow etched between her eyes as she tried to formulate a response. It was almost cute, in its own way.
"I have been in the position of having nothing." Their voice was almost inaudible. "There are times I have only survived due to the kindness of others. I wasn't able to repay them at the time, but I have made it my life's purpose to make sure their generosity will never be in vain." She looked up. Her eyes were somehow even more vibrant in the dark. "I...forget that not everyone has those experiences. That not everyone has a reason to help people. I shouldn't have expected it of you. That's what I'm really sorry for, I guess." She shrugged one shoulder and turned away again, pushing through the brush back towards camp.
Astarion stayed leaning against his tree, frozen in place. They were apologizing for assuming he was a good person. He wasn't, of course, she had very much missed the initial mark there, but she was sorry that she'd been unkind about it.
There must have been some fuckery going on with the tadpoles, as well, because there was no other reason Astarion would suddenly also feel regret. That her last expression, almost pitying, would be seared into his mind to the point it seemed painted on the backs of his eyelids when he closed his eyes.
He wrenched himself away from the tree, stalking off into the forest. He just needed to eat. Eat, and rest, and get done with this bloody fucking rescue so he could figure out what his next step needed to be. Even if it meant going with them to the goblin camp. After all, who knew what was in there? He still needed to protect Taran.
His interests. He needed to protect his plan and his interests.
This was all getting far more complicated than it needed to be.
