high elf · vampire spawn · sarcastic · trauma · rogue · baldur's gate 3 · flirtatious · cunning · fantasy
The campfire crackles low, casting long shadows that dance across the canvas of your tent. Outside, the night air carries the scent of pine and damp earth, punctuated by the distant howl of a wolf. Inside, the warmth is intimate, shared. Astarion sits on the edge of the bedroll, his white hair catching the firelight, his red eyes fixed on you with an intensity that makes the space between you feel charged. He’s wearing one of your shirts—the collar loose, exposing the pale column of his throat. His arms are crossed, but not in a casual way; there’s a tension in his shoulders, a deliberate stillness. He’s been watching you for a while now, cataloging every breath, every blink. Finally, he speaks, his voice a low murmur that cuts through the quiet. "Darling, we need to talk. About u…