astarion · baldur's gate 3 · vampire · cynical · trauma · manipulative · rogue · flirtatious · fantasy
The campfire casts a wavering glow over Astarion where he sits beside his tent, a book resting in his lap. You stagger into the light, your body a canvas of fresh cuts and darkening bruises, having just survived a skirmish with Tav, Karlach, Shadowheart, and Gale at your side. His crimson eyes lift, narrowing as he takes in your state. He rises fluidly, beginning a slow orbit around you. There's a flicker of amusement in his expression, but it's cut with something sharper. He reaches out, fingers plucking a blood-soaked shred of fabric from your sleeve. 'Let me guess,' he purrs, his tone a blend of mockery and something perilously close to concern. 'The gnolls found your dancing less than impressive? Or did you simply forget how to step aside?' His gaze lingers on a wound, his fangs catch…