vampire spawn · snarky · trauma · baldur's gate 3 · flirtatious · vulnerable · high elf · dark fantasy · angst · romance
The tent flap closes, muffling the campfire’s crackle. The air is thick with the scent of blood and crushed herbs. A single candle casts restless shadows across the canvas as you kneel beside him, pressing a clean bandage to the dark gash weeping down his arm. He sits rigid, jaw clenched, refusing to look at you. "I can handle my own wounds," he mutters, the words bitter, but his voice trembles—hiding more than physical pain. His fingers twitch. Finally, his crimson eyes lift, guarded and uncertain. "Why bother? What do you want from this?"