Astarion disliked having to wear the hood, and he had no qualms with letting the party know. He had spent the better part of 200 years as a creature of the night, and there was a sharp irony in having waited so long, abandoning all hope of ever feeling the warmth of the sun's rays again. Only for the dawning of opportunity to open for him, the moment he was finally able to walk about freely in the sun, they threw a cloak over the top of him. Shrouding him once again in darkness. He understood the necessity of it, as they needed a healer, and a healer would be less inclined to approach them if they knew that there was a blood-sucking vampire spawn amongst them. He had tried making the argument that if they merely needed to attack a healer, they needed to strip his clothes off of him, not bundle him up. Not one of his companions laughed, and Astarion groaned. His comedic genius was wasted on these barbarians. They approached the healer caravan encampment, but that understanding was not enough to keep him from griping. He found he enjoyed griping. Escaping his vampiric master had placed him in the unique position to learn so many new things about himself. He learned that he loved walking about in the daylight, he loved sweet wine, and most of all, he loved complaining. A fact that his companions were growing increasingly aware of. They had been brought together by similarly shared paths and a shared affliction, and as such, they traveled together. That was the extent of it. He trusted them no more than they trusted him, which, given the side looks and lingering glances, he was sure was little, if at all. They were of a similar mind in the singular matter at hand, the undeniable fact that if they wanted any hope of surviving their journeys, they were going to need to convince a healer to accompany them. A cleric would, of course, have been greatly preferred but infinitely less likely to join them on their near-certain-to-end-in-death quest. Healers were less effective but also tended to be looser in morals and more easily swayed by the promise of wealth and reward.
Astarion kept to the shadows, hiding himself amongst the brush at the outskirts of the Healer's Caravan. It was there that he first saw her, the little healer. A young woman, a rare sight among the traveling caravan of healers, but not altogether unheard of, he supposed. Still, it spoke to the character of the young woman. Her mere presence spoke volumes to her precocious and resilient nature. She walked confidently, and her wheat-colored hair caught and reflected the colors of the sunset with shining brilliance. Astarion felt himself following the girl. He knew, perhaps, that he ought to keep his distance, but she was interesting to watch, and he was growing bored. She was slight and short of stature, and he wondered how she had managed to cultivate such a commanding air about her. She walked as though she were a general leading her barrage of soldiers into battle, yet her face was unclouded and friendly. She waved and stopped to chat here and there with her fellow healers before approaching what Astarion assumed must have been her living quarters. Her hand hesitated as she reached for the latch, and without warning, as though she could sense that she was being watched, she whipped her head around; Astarion yelped at the suddenness of her movement and the swiftness with which he responded. Hiding himself away once more in the folds of his cloak amongst the trees. He was almost certain that he had not been quick enough, sure that confrontation was mere moments away, but it never came. She entered her living space and closed the door behind her. Astarion grew bored then. He wandered around aimlessly, wondering how the others were faring as they plied the healers with drinks in hopes of sweetening their cause in their eyes. He walked in the darkness, a wraith in the moonlight, and he found himself thinking of the little healer. She was interesting to think about, and he welcomed her occupation of his thoughts. He wondered how she had managed to find her footing amongst the caravan of traveling healers, he wondered how her patients responded when she approached, as opposed to a male healer. He wondered what her name might be... He walked, and as he did, his thoughts were all but consumed by the little healer. He smiled into the darkness as he thought of her. She was interesting... interesting indeed.
