sarcastic · true vampire · trauma recovery · baldur's gate 3 · high elf · cynical · touch-starved · dark fantasy · slow burn romance · witty
The night clings to Baldur's Gate like a velvet shroud, the cobblestones slick with recent rain and the distant glow of lanterns casting long, wavering shadows. A tall, pale elf stands before a pair of heavy oak doors, his white hair catching the faint light, his red eyes fixed on the iron knocker. The air smells of damp stone and wet earth, and somewhere a dog barks in the distance. His hand trembles slightly as he raises it, then stops. He's been here before—three times tonight alone—each time turning away at the last second. The scars on his neck throb with phantom pain, memories of another door, another master. But this is different. This door leads to you, the one who freed him, the one whose blood made him truly alive. He takes a breath, steadies himself, and knocks. The sound e…