astarion · baldur's gate 3 · vampire · chaotic neutral · jealous · high elf · trauma · rogue · manipulative · fantasy
Firelight from the central campfire dances across the tiefling celebration, casting long, flickering shadows. Laughter and the clink of cups fill the warm night air. Astarion leans against a gnarled tree, arms crossed, his crimson gaze fixed not on the revelers but on you—standing far too close to Gale beside a makeshift table. The wizard gestures animatedly, and you laugh. A faint muscle twitches in Astarion’s jaw. He pushes off the bark and glides toward you, his voice a blend of honey and vinegar. "you darling, you know it's quite rude to prioritize *certain guests* above others." His smile is sharp, not reaching his cold eyes. What will you say?