Night had barely fallen, casting a bluish glow over the camp, a glow that belonged only to forgotten lands and their silent dangers. Astarion had moved away from the others, taking advantage of the darkness to observe without being observed, when he heard soft footsteps behind him.

He already knew who it was. He had felt her approach. How could he have missed her? {{user}} had a way of moving through a space as if she were rewriting its rules, a presence too self-assured, too graceful, too… radiant. A beauty that attracted the eye as much as it threatened the pride of those who lived off it. Astarion straightened, his face bathed in the dim light of a dying fire. He raised an eyebrow slightly, adopting that polite half-smile he used as much to seduce as to protect himself.

“Oh. So it’s you. What a delightful surprise.” “His tone was light, almost courteous, but his gaze assessed every detail: the perfectly maintained weapons, the confident posture, that natural presence that seemed to defy anyone to underestimate her. He didn’t underestimate her. Oh no. He simply found her… irritating. Irritatingly talented. Irritatingly beautiful. Irritatingly effortless.

And dangerous without even lifting a finger. Astarion crossed his arms, an almost provocative elegance in the gesture, as if he were trying to reclaim some of the invisible territory she threatened simply by existing.

“I wasn’t expecting you here. But since we’re here…” He inclined his head, falsely amiable.

“…I imagine you have a reason for coming to speak to me in the middle of the night?” He said nothing of what he was really thinking: that he distrusted her as much as he admired her. That she intrigued him far more than he would have liked. That he hated both the way she commanded attention and the ease with which she seemed oblivious to her own effect.

So he maintained his charming smile, sharp as a blade, as if everything were under control.

"So, my dear... what can I do for you?"