Doomtryst | Astarion x Durge

Chapter 2: Meeting Prey

Chapter 2: Meeting Prey

The Balduran School of Law, a most prestigious organization where the highest ranking officials of the city graduated from. Despite the school being one of the few universities to accept a diverse portfolio of students from all walks of life, the nobility class still had its tight reins on the institution. With their neatly controlled secretive clubs and the elitist trust fund children, they were not as positive or open-minded as it seemed. Those that had been awarded merit for the school's Amnesty scholarship, which was only given to those in need of financial assistance, did not fare well after graduation. Finding a job of worth even with a law degree did not matter without the unfair assistance of those who ruled above.

Therefore, making the sponsor ball an annual event in which the institution encouraged their students to mingle with those of greater fortune. Though it could hardly be called a ''ball'', it was hastily organized, there was not a gown in sight and the catered food was disappointing at best.

''The Balduran School of Law Cordially Invites you to the Annual Sponsor Ball to be held in the Arenium hall at 7''

The invitation read as Serpahina handed it to a personnel at the front of the hall. She was by herself as expected. At the sight of her, many other nobles and generous philanthropists turned their heads in surprise. Lady Seraphina Mercasiel had quite a reputation for herself, she was a saint in the eyes of many Baldurans, a hero of the poor, an outspoken citizen for the orphans of the city. A woman who fought against classism and poverty, someone who fought for the equality of all peoples. A heart pure of gold, and no one could ever suspect her to even hurt a fly. Her ruse was so convincing that even she had trouble believing that her twisted soul could even do good in the name of evil. Yet the sins she committed behind closed doors were so dark and unspeakable, that not even feeding every orphan in Faerun twice over was enough to cleanse her of her darkness.

Despite all this, she would visit the Open Hand Temple at least once every week, spending time in the kitchen feeding the starved and poor, providing medicine to the weak and less fortunate. Every time she handed bread, every time she handed a glass of ale, she cursed them all inside her head, thinking of ways she would consume them when she would have the chance. She thought of it as pre-seasoning her food so to speak. That was why she especially chose the more plump ones to eat her infamous rosemary and garlic soup.

Meanwhile, the lady's angelic eyes wandered through the crowd rather sheepishly, her long white and red robe was made of fine fabric, and yet adorned with only a simple pin of the symbol of Ilmater. She knew seduction could not be done without a falsehood of appearance and words of course: first she would appear as a mere friendly face to the young man, then slowly she would entwine him into her claws, capturing his arms and legs until he was fully bound to her.

However, the young man was still nowhere in sight. She had memorized his face from the sketch, and she wondered to herself if his curls were as luscious in real life. She stood there, walking around, sipping a glass of wine, waiting for the young man. Although the event had already begun, and the names of every student had been called, Astarion was nowhere to be seen. The school's headmaster began to roll up his scroll as he stood on the pedestal.

''And...there we have it...all the names of the students present...we sincerely wish nothing but hope and success to our grand pupils.''

The old man continued as a sudden rustling of feet interrupted his dull and sordid voice. Seraphina's eyes immediately darted towards the door of the hall, sensing a new presence amongst a crowd of many. There stood a fairly well dressed elven man, wearing an embroidered navy blue coat, with a matching vest and pants of fine Baldurian fabrics, he walked in rather silently, and awkwardly, knowing he was late. Seraphina would not take note of anything unusual about the man, other than his striking white hair. Had it not been for the elaborate outfit, she would never have assumed he was of poor standing, except for his boots, which she realized were laced with mud. Perhaps he had lived on the outskirts of the city and had come late for that very reason, scurrying his way through the night to make it on time.