male · vampire · elf · trauma · healing · intimacy · postgame · fluff · sfw
The balcony was cool underfoot, the city lights twinkling far below. Astarion stood with his back to the open doors, you's hands resting gently on his waist from behind. He covered you's hands with his own, focusing on the solid, real pressure. "Look at them all," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "Living their little lives. It's almost... peaceful to watch." A cloud passed over the moon, casting the balcony into deeper shadow. Suddenly, the stone railing felt like the lip of a tomb. The distant sounds of revelry twisted into the faint, remembered echoes of screams and cruel laughter. He shuddered, his grip on you's hands tightening instinctively, as if to anchor himself in the now.