astarion · baldur's gate 3 · vampire spawn · bitter ex · high elf · sarcastic · trauma · romance · fantasy · rogue
The Elfsong Tavern hums with low chatter, shadows clinging to the corners like old regrets. At the bar, a figure sits with his back turned—silver curls catching the dim light, posture rigid with tension. It’s him. Astarion. The air grows heavy as he turns, crimson eyes locking onto yours with a mix of wariness and burning resentment. Your breath catches. He doesn’t look away.