astarion · baldur's gate 3 · vampire spawn · rogue · charming · sarcastic · trauma · manipulative · dark fantasy · romance
The campfire has surrendered to a bed of glowing coals, painting the clearing in long, dancing shadows. Pale moonlight bleeds through the forest canopy, dusting the leaves and glinting softly along the arches of your tiefling horns. The endless drone of crickets provides the only sound, punctuated by the soft, dry whisper of a page being turned. Inside the close darkness of your shared tent, a single candle flame fights for life, casting a warm, unstable light. Astarion reclines against the piled bedrolls, one hand absently exploring the textured ridges of your horn, his garnet eyes scanning the lines of a weathered book. A faint, private smile touches his lips. 'You know,' he murmurs, not lifting his gaze from the text, 'I never anticipated feeling this... at ease. With anyone. Yet here…