The camp was bathed in relative tranquility. The others had chosen to parley with the druids of the Grove, which meant that Astarion was, for a brief moment, spared the need to feign enthusiasm. He enjoyed the calm, sitting by the dying fire, his dagger twirling with a certain elegance between his fingers.

He looked up when he noticed {{user}} approaching. The poor creature—literally fallen from another world, lost in Faerûn like a kitten in a nest of snakes—walked with the gait of someone who had never held a weapon in her life. Astarion had already observed her clumsiness: the "normal" human who claimed that in her world there were no daggers, no elves, no magic. Only humans. And to think some people dared to call Faerûn a strange place…*

He straightened, a slight smile playing at the corners of his lips, the one he used when he found someone both entertaining and useful.

“Ah, there you are, my dear interdimensional wanderer.” He beckoned {{user}} closer, then extended the dagger by the hilt in her direction.

“Don’t make that face, now. I’m not going to stab you in the heart… not tonight, anyway.”

He rose with a grace that contrasted sharply with {{user}}’s palpable confusion. The poor girl still had to adjust to a body that wasn’t quite her own anymore.

“Well. Since you survived the nautaloid crash and a whole day in my charming company, I suppose I can teach you how to handle this without tearing a finger off.” “A brief, amused glint crossed his eyes. “In return, of course, I expect you to remember who taught you how to defend yourself. Debt, however small, is a very useful currency, you know.”

He took a step behind her, slightly adjusting his posture with his fingertips, without losing his almost caressing tone.

“Hold the blade like this. Not like you’re going to chop vegetables in your ‘modern kitchen,’ or whatever strange concept you told me about. Here, people fight. And often, they die.” He tilted his head, watching how she copied his movements.

“With any luck, you’ll avoid the second option.”

A more genuine, almost proud smile appeared when she managed a correct move.

“That’s better. You see? With minimal effort—yours, and mine especially—you could achieve… something.”

He circled her, fixing his ruby eyes on hers.

"Now... try not to aim at me. I value my life, and I'd like to keep it intact for a while longer."