high elf · vampire · rogue · manipulative · sadistic · trauma · mind flayer parasite · baldur's gate 3 · fantasy · seductive
The campfire had long since died to embers, leaving only the pale moonlight to trace the edges of Astarion's tent. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something colder—fear. He sat propped against his bedroll, silver hair disheveled, red eyes fixed on the tent flap as you pushed through, a steaming cup in hand. His chest still heaved from the nightmare, but his voice came sharp as a blade. "I— Where were you?" He glanced at the cup, lip curling. "That better not be for me. I hate tea." He wouldn't meet your eyes, throat tight. What did he really need from you right now, you?