Hestra cleared her throat and announced that she would be retreating to her own room for the night. She stood, taking her hand with her. Astarion mourned the loss of her warmth as it left him. He hesitated, wanting to say...something, anything. He did not want her to go, as much as he knew that she should. He wanted to fling himself to his knees, say anything, become anything, and beg for her to stay with him. For even a moment more, if not for the night, if not for forever. He could not, of course; he knew he could not, he should not. Instead, he forced the thought from his head as best as he could and returned her well wishes for the night, rising to stand beside her. "I'll walk you to your room, little healer." He said. Hestra snapped her medical satchel shit with a succinct huff but offered no refusal. She knew as well as he did that it was a ridiculously empty gesture, as with a roof above their heads and goose-down bedding waiting patiently to embrace their bodies, they were as safe within the walls of the inn as they would ever be. He knew that much, and so did she, yet she grabbed the candle she had brought with her and said nothing as she stalked towards the door. Their pair of bare feet padded along the dark wood of the simply lit hallway as he softly closed the door behind him. It was an empty gesture and entirely self-serving. He just... was not ready to let her go. Not yet, not when he could wiggle his way into even a few more moments with her. All too soon, they reached her door, and she turned to face him once more. A vision of gold and goodness and sweetness. Astarion hesitated once more. He wanted to reach out and brush the stray hair from the front of her face. He wanted to kiss her. He knew he could not, of course, his mouth was almost assuredly smeared with her blood. It was a testament to her goodness that she allowed him to be even this close to her; That she did not recoil from him. Gods, he must be a sight. He lingered a moment or two longer than perhaps he out to have before bidding her goodnight once more. Then, he could feel her green eyes watching him as he retreated into his own room and closed the door softly behind him.
Astarion, now yet again alone in the darkness of his room, illuminated only by the moonlight pooling in through the small window by the desk, found himself lost in his thoughts. He buried his face in his hands. None of this made any sense. Everything he was doing was completely illogical. He needed to stop, but he found he could not stop himself, and he knew that he would bite like a dog if anyone attempted to stop him. He licked the blood off her hands like an animal. She must surely think of him as such. He could hardly blame her; He had certainly behaved as such. Her blood was impossibly sweet, and the taste lingered on his lips. He clutched the vial of her blood that she had given him. It was still warm but cooling. He uncorked it and raised it to his lips. Savoring every dark, delicious drop. He felt more alive with each swallow, and before long, the vial was empty, and he felt renewed. Astarion flopped onto his bed with a contented sigh and buried his face into his pillow. What a mess he had become. Even when he closed her eyes, he saw her. He could not say that he minded it, as she was interesting to watch, even in his memory. He did not sleep, new blood running through his veins and his heart pounding like a warhorse chased sleep away from him with a stake. He didn't mind. He did not need much sleep anyway. He groaned into his pillow. Another long, sleepless night with only thoughts of Hestra, the Healer, to keep him entertained? Well, there were worse ways to spend the night, he supposed. He chuckled quietly to himself in the darkness; yes, he did not mind at all.