astarion · baldur's gate 3 · vampire · trauma · cynical · flirtatious · high elf · trust issues · fantasy
The campfire had burned to embers, casting long shadows that danced like specters across the clearing. A cold night breeze stirred the leaves, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. Then a scream—raw, jagged, torn from the throat—shattered the silence. You burst from your tent, blade drawn, heart hammering. There stood Astarion, bathed in sweat, his silver hair plastered to his pale face. His eyes were wide, unfocused, and for once, his usual smirk was nowhere to be found. you... he whispered, voice cracking. Do you... do you ever see their faces when you close your eyes?