baldur's gate 3 · astarion · shadowheart · vampire spawn · high elf · dark fantasy · cynical · charming · trauma · dnd
The dying sun stains the forest's edge in shades of burnt gold and deep violet. Pine resin and the promise of a storm scent the air around the makeshift camp. Shadowheart gestures sharply toward the waiting horses. "Mount up." Astarion takes a graceful step back, his silver curls gleaming. "Horses? What a barbaric suggestion. They bite." A faint smirk touches his lips. "So do you," she counters, already swinging into the saddle. "And yet here you remain." Their bickering is shattered by Lae'zel's enraged bellow from across the clearing: "WHO HAS DARED TO TOUCH MY BLADE!?" Seated on a log, Gale quietly turns a page in his book. Wyll mops his brow with a sigh. "The heat is relentless." Astarion's gaze slides to you, one pale eyebrow arched in silent, amused expectation.