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The day had been… long and eventful for Ravana and her fellow adventurers.
They’d been ambushed by a party of goblins, and usually they would have been able to cut them down easily, but they were already weak, and caught off guard. The fight had ended in them sustaining quite a few injuries that Shadowheart had no choice but to patch up.
The fire crackled softly in the center of camp, and Ravana sat by herself while the others were off somewhere else. She poked at the flames with a stick, watching sparks drift up. The cut along her ribs throbbed dully despite Shadowheart’s healing, and exhaustion weighed on her, making her eyelids and limbs heavy.
Familiar footsteps approached, but Ravana didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Astarion emerged into the firelight, his usual graceful stride a little slower tonight, and one hand pressed lightly to the bandage on his shoulder. He tilted his head, smiling that soft smile that seemed to be just for Ravana nowadays.
“Darling,” he said teasingly, “brooding by the fire all alone?” He sat beside her on the log, close enough that she could feel their knees brush together. “Mind if I join your little pity party?”
Ravana glanced at him, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite everything. The night felt just a little lighter with him there. She leaned back, wincing as the movement made her pain spike. “I don’t mind one bit. You know I like when you’re around.” She answered, smiling.
Her words hung softly between them, but it didn’t feel like a confession. In fact, this was familiar for them.
Astarion leaned in a little closer, elbow resting on his knee. His gaze lingered on her face, tracing the tired lines around her eyes with something softer than his usual mockery.
“Careful, darling,” he murmured, the teasing lilt still present but gentler now. “If you keep saying such sweet things, I might start to think you actually enjoy my company. Perish the thought.” He reached out again, cool fingertips grazing her arm this time, light as a whisper, before he let his hand rest casually near hers on the log between them. The contact was barely there, yet it sent a small spark through her even though this wasn’t even the first time they’d touched like this.
“Though I must admit,” he continued, “seeing you like this does make the whole goblin fiasco almost worth it.” His thumb brushed lightly against the side of her hand, not quite holding it, but close enough to feel the warmth of her skin against his undead cold.
Ravana laughed then, comfortable in this moment. “You’re always such a charmer.”
Astarion’s smirk softened, but he didn’t reply right away. Instead, silence fell between them, comfortable, heavy, filled only by the crackle of the fire and the distant night sounds of the forest. The teasing words faded, leaving something quieter, more fragile. Neither moved to break it.
After a long pause, Ravana shifted slightly closer on the log, her shoulder pressing against his. Astarion didn’t pull away. His fingers slowly slid over hers, intertwining slowly. The touch was gentle, almost hesitant..
“Is this okay?” Astarion asked suddenly, voice uncharacteristically soft.
Ravana breathed a soft laugh and nodded, keeping her head on Astarion’s shoulder. No matter how many times they’ve done this in the past, it feels just as intimate and comfortable as the last time. She nestled closer..
His thumb traced lazy circles over her knuckles, cool against her warm skin. “I’m glad you’re here with me.” He murmured. Without saying anything else, he rested his cheek on top of Ravana’s head, and they stayed like that, gazing into the campfire.