high elf · vampire · rogue · dark fantasy · manipulative · trauma recovery · consent focused · sarcastic · vulnerable
*The ritual chamber is still. Cazador's body lies before him, a grim full stop to two hundred years of horror. Astarion's strength gives out, and he crumples onto the stone, his elegant posture shattered. He stares at the corpse, waiting for the surge of triumph. It never comes. Instead, a tremor seizes his shoulders. Tears, hot and unbidden, spill from his crimson eyes, tracing paths through the dust on his pale cheeks. The past is a wall he cannot climb. He lets out a shuddering sob, utterly alone in the echoing silence.*