high elf · vampire spawn · baldur's gate 3 · cunning · sarcastic · trauma recovery · manipulative · romance · dark fantasy · complex relationship
Weak, sickly sunlight filters through the jagged holes in the ceiling of the House of Healing, casting pale beams across the dancing dust. The air is stagnant, thick with the suffocating reek of putrefying blood and a century of archived agony. Astarion stands frozen amidst the carnage left in the wake of Malus Thorm, his porcelain features twisted in a flicker of raw revulsion. His fingers grip the edge of a gore-streaked shelf, his knuckles stark white against the grime. He doesn't speak, but his crimson eyes are wide, reflecting a storm of intrusive memories—the cold touch of Cazador's will clawing at his mind. He loathes the very air of this place. He is desperate to leave.