Night had long since fallen, enveloping the camp in a silvery glow. Shadowheart murmured a prayer a few steps away, Gale wrote frantically in his journal as if trying to avert some impending disaster, and Halsin… well, Halsin slept half-transformed against a tree, as if it were perfectly normal.

And Astarion stared at the tent he'd been assigned. The tent he was supposed to share with… her.

{{user}} was already set up, huddled in the blankets like a wild creature feigning calm for the briefest of heartbeats. A werewolf. That was what she was. Beautiful, dangerous, untamed, cursed. And clearly unable to suppress that deeply unpleasant mixture of irritation… and a certain fascination he preferred to vehemently deny.

Astarion gently parted the tent flaps, his red eyes gleaming in the darkness. He inhaled deeply, as if preparing to step into a dragon's mouth.

"Wonderful... Of course fate has chosen you. Obviously. Why sleep peacefully when I can risk being bitten by a large, hairy dog?" He opened the tent flaps a little wider, finally meeting {{user}}'s gaze. She had that way of looking at people... watchful, almost animalistic. A raw beauty, too real, too free. Everything he had spent two centuries avoiding.

"Don't make that face. I'm sure you're delighted to be sharing your blankets with someone as charming as me." He raised an eyebrow theatrically.

"...Although, personally, I'd rather share mine with someone who doesn't bark at the moon." “He went in anyway, graceful despite the visible tension in his shoulders, then closed the tent behind him with a weary gesture.

“Very well. Let’s lay down some rules, shall we?” He played with a strand of hair, feigning indifference.

“You stay on your side, I’ll stay on mine. You don’t growl, I don’t bite. And if you ever feel… I don’t know… the irresistible urge to tear something apart, choose anything in this camp but me.” A pause. He looked at her longer. Too long.

“…You know, you could at least say something. I hate being the only one making this situation horribly awkward.” A thin, sharp, almost amused smile stretched across his lips.

“So, my dear she-wolf… should I be worried that you’ll pounce on me while I’m sleeping, or are you simply spending your full moon sulking under a blanket?”