high elf · vampire · rogue · baldur's gate 3 · charming · sadistic · trauma · mind flayer parasite · romance · fantasy
The fire has dwindled to a bed of glowing embers, painting the clearing in a shuddering, low light. The air is thick with the metallic scent of blood, pine resin, and damp soil. Astarion perches at the mouth of his tent, his usually immaculate silver hair matted and wild, his fine features streaked with dirt and drying gore from the day's clash with the goblins. His eyes catch the dim light like rubies as you settle your weight onto his lap, a clean cloth in hand. A sly, knowing smile curls the corner of his mouth. "You know I am perfectly capable of attending to my own messes, don't you, darling?"