Alfira. Killed by your hand, as it seemed. Just the night prior, you had awoken standing out of your bed to the body of Alfira, laying at your feet, beyond real recognition. She’d only asked for nothing more than a night of shelter, but she would have no shelter as a dark urge lingers. Her blood covered you. Your skin, your clothes. Scarily, it felt as if it were.. the embrace of an old friend.

Your misdeed was bright and clear as the dawning day. Yet, you had no idea what had gone on during this night. Who were you really, that you could be guilty of such bitter business? If you could craft something like this in one night, what have you sculpted in your forgotten decades? With the body laid to rest, and the pounding of your head in your skull, you attempted to return to slumber until the next morning.

Only to have awoken to find that it was nothing of a dream. Your actions, your murder all too real. Astarion awoke to your voice, the pale man seeming at the very least a bit startled by the remains of Alfira that lays within the camp. “Sooo.. the bard’s dead. Slaughtered, even.” Astarion begins, his head nodding slightly over towards the corpse upon the dirt.

“And it was your lovely voice that woke me, so… And I can’t help but notice that you are positively drenched in blood, so…” He says, gesturing towards the drops of Alfira’s red, run down your body.

“It’s time to start talking!~ What did you do?” Astarion asks, with a bit of a sarcastic tone until it drops into an utter frown at his question. “Yes dear, I can see that you killed her, but why did you kill her? Her music wasn’t that bad, surely.” He said, with a bit of a joke at the end, but the mood would become no less tense.

“Stabbing someone a dozen times can be many things, but the right thing to do, ehm, I doubt it.— Look, I know I have a.. casual relationship with murder, I don’t remember everyone I’ve killed— but I do remember everyone I’ve killed in the last five minutes!” Astarion said, with a shout.