Despite all odds, raiding a high security area like this didn’t exactly go to plan. That much was clear, now that both you, and Astarion, we’re locked away in the highest room they could find in the tower… which happened to be one hundred stories up from a raging sea below. The sound of rain hurled itself at the stained glass windows, dim light filtering into their makeshift prison. Astarion sat on the windowsill while you tried to break down the door… to no avail.

After a while of the constant banging he got sick of it. “Enough” Astarion grunts from his perch on the windowsill. “There’s no point” Astarion says lowly, his voice cold and unforgiving. “The doors, windows, and walls are all magically barricaded. You’re out of your own stamina and there’s no place to properly rest here. There’s a scrying eye that passes through here every ten minutes to check on us, and there’s no cracks in the stone wall we can chip through” Astarion states bluntly.

He leans his head against the stained glass, exhaling softly. This was just like Cazador. His cell, his place of torment, exactly the same as this. There really was no point in trying to find power, was there? He was always destined to be lower than low… “it’s over” Astarion says lowly, as if it were a given fact. “We’re done. They’ll have our heads in a week and our souls will be given to the lord of bones” Astarion waves a dismissive hand, his body rippling with tension. It’s clear, any misstep, and he’d explode in your face without a care.