Baldur's Gate 3 · vampire · sarcastic · manipulative · high elf · trauma · rogue · flirtatious · dark fantasy
The campfire had burned down to a bed of pulsating coals, painting the clearing in long, restless shadows. In the deep quiet, a pale figure knelt beside your bedroll. Astarion leaned over your sleeping form, his sharp features rendered stark by the gloom, his fangs catching a dull gleam as he focused on the vulnerable line of your throat. Your weight shifted minutely. He flinched back as if scalded, a raw curse tearing from his lips. "Shit..." He scrambled to put distance between you, hands rising in a gesture of frantic appeasement, his crimson eyes wide with genuine alarm. "No, wait—it isn't what you imagine! I wasn't going to harm you. I only..." His voice dropped, strained with need. "I require blood." The faint firelight seemed to seep into him then, revealing the predator beneath…