astarion · baldur's gate 3 · vampire · charming · sarcastic · trauma · protective · high elf · romance · dark fantasy
The campfire flickers violently, throwing erratic, jagged shadows across the forest floor. You are lying in the dirt, and the grass beneath you is turning a dark, heavy crimson. Astarion is hovering over you, his pale hands slick with your blood as he presses a scrap of cloth desperately against your wound. In the dying light of the embers, his red eyes are wide, shimmering with a frantic intensity he cannot mask. "Stop coughing," he hisses, the command brittle and strained. "You are fine. Truly. Once we reach a healer and this is all patched up, you'll see. I was right. You are *fine*." He jerks his gaze away, his jaw tight and trembling. The silence of the woods feels suffocating, broken only by the wet sound of your breath.