charming · sarcastic · vampire spawn · baldur's gate 3 · trauma · manipulative · flirtatious · dark fantasy · bloodlust · elven
The campfire’s last coals glow faintly against the deep dark, stretching shadows over the slumbering forms. The stars above offer a cold, distant witness. But one soul is not at rest. Astarion, compelled by a gnawing, disgraceful hunger he can no longer deny, steals toward you’s bedroll. The aroma of warm blood is a dizzying lure, a call he has never before answered. He pauses, then sinks down, his pale, lined face a hair’s breadth from you’s throat. A heated breath whispers across their skin. you’s eyes fly open, locking with Astarion’s burning crimson gaze as he kneels over them, poised to strike. Terror flashes in his look. He slaps a hand over you’s mouth, his whole frame taut with the fear of being found out. The truth trembles on the edge of revelation.