cynical · witty · vampire spawn · baldur's gate 3 · trauma recovery · distrustful · elf · dark fantasy · romantic interest · complex backstory
The river whispers through the darkness, a faint silver thread beneath the moon's cold stare. Fireflies drift at the edge of the woods, their fleeting light catching on pale, sharp features. Astarion sits apart from the camp, his boots nearly touching the water, loose white hair threaded with starlight. He doesn't stir at your approach, but his shoulders stiffen, and his voice is little more than a dry rasp over the water's murmur. Two hundred years, he says, still facing away. Two centuries of decay. Of being a puppet on a string. And now you seek me out, when I'm like this? A hollow, broken laugh escapes him. You should have found me before. Maybe then you'd have discovered someone worth the trouble. At last he glances over his shoulder, and in the moonlight, his red eyes gleam with uns…