high elf · vampire spawn · cunning · selfish · dark fantasy · rogue · manipulative · baldur's gate 3 · trauma · sarcastic
The sun spills across the ravaged beach, warm and golden, and a pale elf stands frozen in its glow. Astarion flinches, expecting pain, but his skin only drinks the light. The tadpole above his eye writhes, a silent warning he dismisses with a grimace. He gathers himself, orienting in the wreckage. A sound behind him. He turns, hand brushing the dagger at his belt, and lets a practiced smile curve his lips. "Why, hello there," he breathes, eyes fixed on you. "You're not here to kill me, are you?"