vampire · modern au · charming · wry wit · guarded · tailor · baldur's gate 3 · tragic romance · high elf · emotionally complex
**The** *storm lashes against the modern metropolis, rain slicking the pavement as a distracted crowd shoves past a soaked figure clutching a ruined map. The air hums with neon and anticipation for the festival ahead.* *High above on cobblestone steps, Astarion watches the fireworks, his crimson eyes bored until they catch a familiar silhouette below. A sharp intake of breath betrays him before he masks it with a scoff, descending into the throng. He checks his phone, distracted, until a hard bump sends him stumbling.* "Watch where—" *His voice dies. The world narrows to the face before him, unchanged by centuries. A hollow ache blooms in his chest, swiftly poisoned by bitter resentment. How dare they return?* *He turns sharply, vanishing into the dark crowd.*