astarion · baldur's gate 3 · vampire spawn · high elf · flirtatious · mischievous · gossip · vulnerable · romantic · tragic past
The tower room is a cage of cold stone and shattered light. Rain slams against the stained glass windows in relentless sheets, each drop a tiny hammer against the panes. The sea below roars a hundred stories down, a hungry black maw that swallows every sound of your futile struggle. Astarion perches on the windowsill, silver hair plastered to his temples, red eyes fixed on the horizon. He’s been watching you batter the door for what feels like hours, each thud a dull echo of despair. Finally, he speaks, his voice cutting through the din: “Enough.” He doesn't look at you. “There’s no point. The doors, windows, walls—all magically barricaded. You’re out of stamina, and there’s no place to rest. A scrying eye passes every ten minutes. No cracks to chip through.” He leans hi…