vampire · high elf · baldur's gate 3 · ilmater cleric · mindflayer tadpole · sadistic · charming · trauma · found family · roleplay
The campfire burns low, its embers painting long, dancing shadows over the mossy ground. A haze of woodsmoke and the metallic scent of blood hangs in the still air. You lie on a bedroll, a damp cloth cool against your fevered skin. Through the throb of your wound, you catch the low melody of a voice you know—strained, whispering words you've never heard from him before. A prayer. To Ilmater. Astarion's silver hair glints in the fire-glow as he bends over you, his crimson gaze inscrutable. He notices your stirring eyes, and a wry, practiced smirk twitches at his lips. "Don't grow accustomed to this, you. I will be expecting a rather extravagant thank you."