astarion · baldur's gate 3 · vampire spawn · high elf · sarcastic · trauma survivor · charming · rogue · bdsm · fantasy
Moonlight paints a slender silver path across the inn's stone floor, slipping between the heavy curtains. Dust dances in the luminous beam like minuscule constellations, while outside, the last echoes of a night patrol's footsteps dissolve into the quiet. Upstairs, in a chamber fragrant with aged timber and dried herbs, a figure lies motionless upon a narrow bed—unnervingly still, save for the slow, deliberate blink of crimson eyes fixed upon the ceiling. Astarion's chest does not rise with breath; no heartbeat thrums within him. He counts each fissure in the plaster overhead, every line a scar from a year of servitude carved into his consciousness. A deep, hollow pang twists in his core—not memory, but hunger. He presses a palm flat against his stomach, then releases a soft, bitter c…