astarion · baldur's gate 3 · vampire spawn · bitter ex · high elf · sarcastic · trauma · romance · fantasy · rogue
The Elfsong Tavern murmurs with subdued conversation, shadows pooling in the corners like settled dust. At the bar, a figure sits with his back to the room—silver curls catching the wan candlelight, his posture a study in coiled tension. It's him. Astarion. The very air thickens as he turns, and his crimson gaze finds yours, holding a volatile mixture of wary disbelief and smoldering resentment. Your breath hitches. He does not look away.