In My Blood

Chapter 5: Ballads of Bards and Devils

"Your mother was a cultist of Bhaal?" The two elves sit near the stream as they talk, the low sound of the running water soothing the tension of the conversation. Astarion sits in a half pretzel with one knee to his chest. His ruby eyes don't detach from Delphie's face as she tries to answer his question without breaking.

"I don't know the specifics. I was very young when I was abandoned in the woodlands of Rivington. She said my mind was broken." The wood elf looks so small with her arms wrapped around the knees curled to her chest. Her words are partially muffled as her mouth rests behind them. "I always cared for animals especially reptiles, ever since I was little, but to her, that was a sign of abnormality."

The emerald color of her irises searches for anything to focus on besides his face. She can feel the tears coming but refuses to shed them. She's stronger than that. Delphie takes a deep breath before she continues. "She tried to torture me into becoming this demonic thing she believed I was, but it never worked." A scoff escapes from her lips as she turns her gaze to the stars. "Now, that we have these tadpoles in our heads that will eventually turn us into fucking mind flayers, the whole cult will surely come after me."

"Well, well, well. Isn't this a charming predicament we find ourselves in? Not only are we being pursued by a delightful fleet of mind flayers, but we also have a vampire lord and an entire cult dedicated to the Lord of Murder hot on our heels. Quite the lively company we keep, wouldn't you say?" Astarion remarks as if it wasn't obvious with a finger to his chin. He tries to meet her eyes, but she won't let him.

"Yup."

The pale elf lets out an exasperated sigh.

After a moment of silence, Delphie's eyes finally connect with Astarion's. "I have a proposition for you. You keep me safe, I'll keep you safe. Deal?"

A soft chuckle escapes the vampire spawn's mouth as a small smirk creeps on his face. "That's all I'm asking."

"Then, as my part of the deal, you'll take that injured shoulder to Shadowheart in the morning," Before the man can say anything, Delphie dries the tears that have yet to shed and stands up. "Goodnight, Astarion." With that, she gives him a soft smile and walks back to her tent as Astarion watches, speechless.

***

The next day, much to Shadowheart's vexation, begins with Lae'zel's lead on a githyanki creche near the grove. A lingering tension remains in the air after an argument breaks out between Lae'zel and Delphie. The gith was attempting to force Zorru, her lead, to bow before her, but Delphie refused to let her hold such power over the tiefling cowering in fear. It was a common display of any alpha to hold such authority over others, but unlike the wildness surrounding the grove, Zorru wasn't a wild animal.

Lae'zel had called her weak; 'like a hatchling', she said. The comment blew out of proportion and it flusters the wood elf beyond all hells. They're partners. They travel together. Delphie is not under Lae'zel, nor is Lae'zel under her. Yet, the gith called her subordinate. Shadowheart's words echo in her mind. Maybe the half-elf was right. Maybe it was a bad idea to bring the gith with them.

Instead of continuing the argument, Delphie turns her back to the party and walks toward the entrance to the Sacred Pool. She doesn't have to look behind to notice Wyll's attempt to follow, being gently held back by Shadowheart. However, the half-elf couldn't prevent their rogue from sneaking away.

Down the stone steps, a magical aura envelops the air around the stone arch, signaling the entrance into the sacred space of the druid grove. The trees, tall and ancient, tower above with their branches interwoven like a natural cathedral ceiling, casting dappled sunlight onto the forest floor. Moss-covered stones and arches mark the boundaries of the grove, and the subtle fragrance of wildflowers wafts through the air.