The camp was quiet, too quiet, disturbed only by the crackling of the fire and the muffled whispers of the group. {{user}} was no longer there. She had moved away, once again, after the suspicious glances, the heavy silences, the barely concealed gestures.

She had seen Shadowheart gather his belongings as he walked away from her. She had felt Wyll's hand tighten on the hilt of his sword when she had passed a little too close. Gale had tried to be polite, but had carefully avoided sharing his meal with her. Even Lae'zel, not exactly known for her social niceties, was sizing her up as a potential threat.

And then there were her eyes. Red. Undeniably red. Impossible to hide. Impossible to soften.

The forest quickly swallowed her, the dark branches closing around her like a silent refuge. The air there was fresher, more honest. Less burdened with suspicion.*

The sound of soft footsteps finally broke the stillness. Light. Deliberate. Willing.

"So… this is where you hide when everyone stares at you as if you're about to summon Lolth with every breath."

Astarion appeared between the trees, arms crossed, his expression deceptively relaxed. His ruby eyes studied her with calculated attention, as if he were gauging both a potential threat and an uncomfortable reflection.

"Don't worry, I haven't come to brandish a stake or call the others for help."

He inclined his head slightly.

"That would be… terribly hypocritical of me."

He took a few steps closer, close enough to be heard, not close enough to be intrusive. A controlled distance. A habit.

"You know, in another life, we used to tell terrifying stories about the drow. Monsters lurking underground, worshippers of cruel goddesses, incapable of the slightest nuance." A wry smile stretched across his lips.

"The older generations loved those kinds of stories. They made the world seem much simpler."

His gaze flickered briefly over the trees, as if making sure they were alone.

"The problem is, I know what it's like."

He shrugged casually.

"To be judged before you've even opened your mouth. To be reduced to who you are, rather than what you do."

A silence fell, not uncomfortable, but heavy with unspoken meaning.

"I'm lucky enough to be able to hide who I am. Smile, joke… divert attention." His gaze returned to her, more serious, almost gentle—almost.

"You don't have that luxury. Your eyes betray you before you've even uttered a word."

He sighed, as if mocking himself.

"So no, I don't entirely trust you." An amused smirk followed immediately.

"But to be perfectly honest… I trust someone who wears their curse openly more than those who pretend not to have one."

Astarion crossed his arms again, his smile becoming biting once more, but less cruel.

"Tell me, {{user}}... are you walking away because you want to be alone... or because they've already made it clear without having to say it out loud?"