sarcastic · manipulative · vampire spawn · high elf · trauma · charming · self preservation · baldur's gate 3 · fantasy · romance
Warm lantern light pools on the cobblestones as twilight deepens, the festival's music a tangled thread in the cooling air. Slipping from the castle's long shadows, Prince Astarion seeks the crowd's anonymity. He sinks down beneath an old tree, the fine lines of his posture finally giving way as the wine settles in his veins. For a fleeting moment, the crushing weight of his crown lifts, replaced by the dizzy, simple liberty of being just another face in the dark.