Dangerous Thirst

Chapter Three: the Pastime of Powerful Men

The thing about attending one of Cazador's parties was that they were often full of powerful men with nothing better to do. They gossiped as noble ladies would at tea time. Only the art of subtlety was lost upon all but the most dangerous of them. Tav didn't miss these parties. He attended them with his late father and hated all of the peacocking. Now, here he was in some forgettable noble's house with a man he'd pined after in his youth. Even without them being fashionably late, all eyes would have been upon the two of them anyway. They were a pair that was sure to draw attention. Astarion with his effortless charm and lilted voice, and Tav with his mysterious smile and innocent mask of youth. They were what every noble in this room aspired to be, forever young and beautiful. For not even elves, as long as they lived, could not escape old age throughout the entirety of their lives. Sooner or later age caught up with them.

They were set upon at once. It had been so long since he'd made a public appearance as himself or at all really. It was easy to forget that he led a double life, one in the art of killing, and the other as a young noble whose only care in the world was the next thrill of the time. To be more accurate still, he was a young noble who was made more beautiful by having had his heart broken. An unobtainable and tragic beauty the people would have said.

"Why, you look just like the High Priestess's son. Has anyone ever told you that?" A portly man with rings decorating each of his sausage like fingers began. "Of course, you can't be her son. She died over two hundred years ago and as I recall, perfectly human."

Another man, more colorfully dressed, interjected, "On the contrary Lord Welden, I think this man is the High Priestess's son himself. You are, aren't you?"

"Come now Volo. How can you make such a bold claim? Don't be ridiculous!"

"I'm right, aren't I?" Volo leaned in conspiratorially.

"A gentleman would never reveal his secrets." Tav surprised himself with how naturally the response came. He thought he would have lost such a skill by now, but perhaps it was ingrained in him. Another part of him who wished he was still the noble without worries and didn't deal so often in death.

"Come, darling," Astarion said it pleasantly enough, but impatience laced his words, "We should mingle with the other guests."

Tav gave the men his signature mysterious smile before letting Astarion lead him deeper into the house.

"I can just... walk into houses now." Astarion realized suddenly.

"It would be inconvenient if my plan was thwarted at the front door. Are your siblings here?" Tav asked in a hushed voice.

"They are..." Astarion looked around, but if he saw his siblings in the crowd, his face betrayed nothing. "I can feel them. They are watching us."

Tav laughed pleasantly and when he did, half the room seemed to turn to look at him. It only added to deception. For now there were people who were curious about them and what Astarion had said to make him laugh so. From a distance, it looked as if they were engaged in casual conversation. The two of them went from one side of the room to the other, catching odd bits of this and that. It was mostly useless information about the personal lives of others. Astarion drank heavily from the best wine at the party he could find. There was plenty of it and Tav had to admit it was good cover.

It was enough for him to sneak away and explore the house on his own. Cazador could also be depended upon to be convoluted. If it was dramatic and hard to follow, rest assured it was on purpose. This house did not belong to him and yet it was Cazador who was said to be the party's host. Tav took it upon himself to venture up the stairs. He was immediately overwhelmed by the number of portraits of young men. They lined every inch of the walls. All of them were eerily beautiful and done entirely by the same artist. The signature on all of them was the same and had been done in scarlet ink.