It definitely meant unlocking something, at the very least, and he crossed the room to where the others were standing, shooing them away from the elaborately decorated chest they were crowded around.
"I can't pick a lock through your bulk," he said, kneeling in front of the check.
"Careful who you're calling bulky," Shadowheart muttered.
"I was talking about Karlach, obviously." Karlach just grinned and flexed, and Astarion rolled his eyes with at least a small twinge of fondness. The big tiefling made it incredibly hard to genuinely dislike her. "Can I at least get some space to use my elbows?" he asked, and the three of them spread out away from him, looking through the shelves and crates scattered throughout the room.
He slid the lockpick into the lock, wiggling it experimentally. "Easy," he muttered to himself, and worked the other tool in beside it to start manipulating the pins into place.
The "click" that sounded was wrong. Hollow, somehow, not the satisfying weighty sound that usually signaled a successfully bypassed lock.
Trap, he thought, and in the time it took for the word to cross his mind the world went white.
"Taran, move, let me get to him - "
"Astarion, please - "
"Here, I've got a potion - "
"Just let me get a hand on him - "
The cacophony cut through the ringing in his ears, doing nothing to help the pounding in his head. He wanted to hiss at them to shut up, but his jaw didn't seem to be working.
There was a ripple of warmth and the worst of the pain abated. He could feel other things now - a hand on his chest and another holding his own hand, gripping almost too tightly.
"Astarion, please say something." That was Taran's voice, accompanied by a squeeze of his hand - she must be the one holding it.
"Haaaaaa." It was less of a word than a single excruciating exhale, but everyone seemed to relax regardless.
"Here." A hand lifted his head and a potion was pressed against his lips, tilting slowly to pour the liquid into his mouth and down his throat.
"I'm so sorry." Taran's voice was a choked whisper, and with the potion bolstering Shadowheart's magic he managed to open an eye to stare up at her.
"I didn't realize you were in the habit of rigging chests to explode in my face." His voice was hoarse and his throat was dry - potions did that, for whatever reason - but a wavery smile crossed Taran's face regardless.
"He's being sarcastic, he's fine," Shadowheart muttered, pulling her hand away from his chest.
He closed his eyes, tongue darting out in a fruitless attempt to moisten his lips. "Can a dying dead man get some water?" Karlach helped him sit up and Taran offered her own water skin, hands hovering around his own as he managed to lift it to his mouth and drink.
"I should have checked for a trap - "
"Darling." Astarion cut her off, capping the skin and handing it back to her. "Please understand I mean this with the utmost fondness, but you wouldn't recognize a trap if it walked up and introduced itself." Another flickering, unsteady smile from them. "Tell you what," he added in a conspiratorial stage whisper. "We'll teach Karlach to pick locks and let her take an explosion to the face. It'll bounce right off her."
"Somehow I'm both flattered and insulted," Karlach said from behind him. There was both humor and relief in her voice, and Astarion wondered briefly when people started being glad he was alright.
"Come on," Shadowheart said, standing and offering him a hand up. "There's only so much I can do here; you need proper rest at camp."
"No one else is hurt?" He let Shadowheart leverage him upwards, a pained noise escaping him as his battered muscles protested the sudden movement. Two other sets of hands braced him almost immediately, and he found his arm slung over Karlach's shoulder without so much as a by-your-leave.
"Nope, you're today's special winner," she said.
"That's something, I suppose." He wanted to protest being manhandled, lifted and moved around like a child, but standing was a shaky proposition at the moment.
"Wait," he said as they started to hobble out the door. "Was there anything in the chest?"
"Nothing that survived," Taran said apologetically, and Astarion gave a brief laugh before the pain in his ribs cut him off. "What?"
"I knew you checked."
A flush flooded Taran's cheeks, making Karlach chuckle as well. "After I checked on you!" she insisted.
"Magpie," he teased. "Magpie with horns."
"Shouldn't have wasted a potion on you," she muttered, crossing her arms in front of her chest. But they were smiling, mingled exasperation, fondness and relief as their motley procession made their way back towards camp.
