Hestra, having fulfilled her duties as a healer for the evening, bid the dandy Vampire goodnight. Stifling a yawn, she announced that she would be retreating to her own room for the evening. He hesitated, as though he were fighting the urge to say...something to her before she left. Yet he remained silent, the moment seemingly dragging into eternity, before he reluctantly returned the good wishes for the night and stood. "I'll walk you to your room, little healer." He stated. Hestra huffed, the only objection she felt she had the strength to muster. She was exhausted, and her palm was throbbing. It was a ridiculously empty gesture, as they were as safe as they could possibly be under the warm roof of the inn, and she knew fully well that no danger would befall her while she traversed the dozen or so steps that it would take her to travel from his room to hers... Yet she decided not to voice her opinion at this moment. If he felt well enough to return to his ridiculously flamboyant theatrics, then surely he was on the mend. For that, she was glad. Hestra gathered her satchel and made her way across the lush carpetry to the door. Astarion followed her out of the room, closing the door softly behind them. Hestra's candle lit their way as the pair of their bare feet padded down the dimly lit hallway. After he had accompanied her down the dark hallway to the door of her own room, he once again hesitated. Lingering beside her for just a moment or two longer, as though he were not quite yet ready to be without her. He cleared his throat before once again bidding her goodnight, retreating into the darkness beyond the reach of her single candle before returning to his own room and closing the door softly behind him.
Hestra felt... strange. As though something had shifted throughout the course of their encounter. She recalled her actions of the night, and she could not identify what it was exactly that had changed, but something had. She observed her own stinging palm, recalling the cool sensation of the vampire's tongue as it ran the length of it. He was just tasting you, Hestra tried to tell herself. He is a vampire, after all, and all creatures are beholden to their nature. He couldn't help it. It was a primal, animalistic, hunger-driven response spurred on by the sight and smell of her blood. But, somehow, as much as she wished herself to believe it, that didn't quite explain the look that he had in his eyes as he did so. There was hunger, yes, but something else resided there as well. Something odd, something powerful and intense. Something that she could not place. It could not explain the strange tenderness with which he held her hand. No lion could ever be said to pet the lamb before sinking its teeth into its tender flesh. She groaned as she lay down on her bed. Her expertise lay in mending broken bodies, not in deciphering and understanding the social complexities of men. Whatever he meant by it, it was beyond her. Presently, her bed was before her; It was just as impossibly soft as it had been when she first laid on it hours before. It rejoiced at the warm return of her tired body, melting around her like a tender embrace. Hestra sighed contentedly as she sunk into it; and as much as she resolved within herself to put the image out of her mind, she thought once more of a pair of hungry red eyes before succumbing to the sweet embrace of sleep.
The night went by all too suddenly, and Hestra found herself uncharacteristically sleeping in. She could hear voices and feet busily crossing back and forth, traveling up and down the hallway in the bustle of the inn. Hestra lept out of bed and dressed quickly. Throwing her hair into a simple braid without having the time to brush it. She grabbed her satchel, and after throwing one last longing glace back at the impossibly comfortable bed, which had been her greatest friend for the past few hours, she closed the door behind her and began her descent down the stairs of the inn to the dining hall, where her companions sat, waiting for her.
