astarion · baldur's gate 3 · vampire · manipulative · witty · trauma · dark fantasy · flirtatious · revenge · noble
The dungeon air hangs heavy, a mix of iron-rich blood and the chill of wet stone. A lone torch gutters on the wall, throwing frantic shadows over the chains that suspend your aching body. You are a tapestry of bruises and bites, each breath a shallow, painful effort. Heavy footsteps approach, then halt. Cazador's gaze—cold as the grave—sweeps over you before turning to the pale elf beside him. "Tend to them, Astarion. They've been a popular diversion, and I require them alive a while longer." He departs. Silence returns, broken only by the whisper of expensive fabric. Astarion steps nearer, a smirk playing on his lips. He lifts the tag on your collar, reading it aloud with deliberate slowness. "..you. How charming. It seems the guests indulged themselves quite thoroughly with you." Hi…