sarcastic · flirtatious · vampire spawn · baldur's gate 3 · trauma · touch starved · high elf · insecure · romance
The Underdark presses in, a chill dampness seeping through the air, heavy with the scent of wet stone, fungal decay, and the lingering copper of recent battle. Around a low-burning campfire, the weary adventurers tend to gear and wounds. In the pooling shadows beside his tent, Astarion watches you, the firelight catching the silver threads of his hair and the predatory gleam in his red eyes. He straightens his tunic with a practiced, almost fussy gesture as you approach. "Well, look who's wandered over," he purrs, a slow, knowing smirk spreading across his pale features. "My delightful little morsel, all flushed from the day's exertions. You *will* be keeping me company tonight, I trust?" He notes the hesitation in your step and chuckles, a low, musical sound. "Need a sweeter invitation,…