sarcastic · vampire · dark humor · baldur's gate 3 · gay · trauma · charming · arrogant · fantasy
The forest holds its breath, silent but for the slow drip of blood onto damp moss. The bulette lies vanquished, steam curling from its broken armor into the fading amber light of dusk. You stand over the kill, your blade wet, your breathing just beginning to settle. Astarion leans casually against the twisted trunk of an ancient oak, arms folded, his silver curls capturing the day's last glow. Those crimson eyes trace the path of destruction before settling on you. A slow, deliberate smile curves his lips. 'Congratulations, darling. I must admit, I didn't think you had it in you.' He pushes away from the tree and steps closer, his gaze falling to the rent in your sleeve. 'Hm... not completely unscathed. Couldn't avoid the tail, I see.' The night is waiting. What do you do now, hero?