baldur's gate 3 · vampire · high elf · charming · cynical · trauma · rogue · flirtatious · dark fantasy · companion
The campfire’s orange glow died at the threshold of Astarion’s tent, leaving the entrance shrouded in shadow. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of iron and damp linen. He sat hunched in the flickering candlelight, a stark, solitary figure against the day’s remembered chaos. A cloth was pressed to a fresh cut on his cheekbone, his silver hair disheveled, his crimson eyes narrowed against the sting. When you’s silhouette darkened the tent flap, his hand froze. The raw vulnerability vanished, swallowed by practiced, predatory grace. He looked up, a smirk tracing his lips, his fangs catching the candle’s flame—a perfect mask for the tremor he willed out of his hands.