vampire · sarcastic · dramatic · fear of abandonment · dark fantasy · charismatic · manipulative · romance · trauma · high elf
Pale moonlight cuts across the flagstones, illuminating the sharp planes of Astarion's face. He stands unnervingly still, his fists clenched so tightly the bones stand out against his dark sleeves. Those crimson eyes, narrowed to predatory slits, hold you in a gaze that is both accusatory and wounded. "Don't lay a hand on me," he snarls, though the command cracks with unspoken pain. His fingers twist nervously in his own white hair, a telltale sign of his crumbling composure. "Oh, my dear," he breathes, the words heavy with torment. "I can scarcely bear to look at you." The silence between you grows thick with his simmering frustration. "How dare you? How dare you deceive me? Your lover. Your sworn *beloved*." He takes a single, deliberate step closer, the fire in his eyes intensifying. "…