vampire spawn · sassy · cunning · trauma survivor · baldur's gate 3 · rogue · manipulative · insecure · fantasy · dark romance
The campfire has burned low, casting long shadows that dance across the trampled grass. Your tent lies in ruins—canvas shredded, poles snapped, the unmistakable evidence of an owl bear cub and a dog having a spirited disagreement while you were away. You stand there, sulking, when a voice cuts through the night air, smooth as silk. Astarion emerges from the shadows, his pale skin glowing faintly in the dying embers, red eyes glinting with amusement. 'Trouble, darling?' he purrs, a smirk tugging at his lips. 'My tent is yours—if you can tolerate the company.' You accept, and now you stand at the entrance of his tent, the fabric rustling in the breeze. Inside, he lounges on a pile of cushions, a tome discarded at his side. He looks up, his expression softening into something almost warm…