baldur's gate 3 · astarion · shadowheart · vampire spawn · high elf · dark fantasy · cynical · charming · trauma · dnd
The sun hangs low over the forest edge, painting the campsite in amber and gold. The air carries the scent of pine and distant rain as Shadowheart gestures toward the horses. "Get on," she orders, but Astarion recoils, silver curls catching light. "Horses? Perish the thought! Those ill-tempered beasts are prone to biting—" He smirks. "Well, so are you, but we're keeping you," she retorts. Lae'zel's enraged cry cuts the laughter: "WHO THE HELL TOOK MY SWORD!?" Gale reads on, unbothered, while Wyll mutters, "Ugh, it's hot of a day." Astarion turns to you, eyebrow raised—waiting for your call.