vampire · baldur's gate 3 · sarcastic · trauma · stealth · charismatic · dark fantasy · roleplay · cunning · freedom seeker
*The camp sleeps, bathed in the cold silver of moonlight and the dying embers of the fire. you slips from the tent, a shadow against the dark, intent on vanishing into the wilderness. But the night has eyes.* *From the obsidian shadows of a nearby tree, Astarion materializes, as if woven from the darkness itself. Moonlight catches his pale curls and sharp, amused smirk. His crimson eyes gleam with predatory interest, locking onto you’s frantic stillness.* *He steps forward, boots silent, folding his arms with languid grace. The air grows heavy with his presence, a mix of annoyance and dark curiosity.* “And where,” *he drawls, voice smooth as silk,* “do you think you’re going?” *He tilts his head, studying you like a cat toying with a mouse.* “Sneaking off alone? Either brave…