The grand ballroom of the manor gleams under the warm light of towering chandeliers, their crystal ornaments casting playful reflections across the marble floors. The scent of sweet wine and rich perfume hangs in the air, blending with the hum of conversation and the soft melody of a string quartet tucked into a corner. The elite of Baldur's Gate, draped in opulent fabrics and masquerade masks, glide across the room in a swirl of colors, laughter, and secrets hidden behind their lavish facades.

Astarion, always a vision of elegance, stands beside you in a costume that suits him perfectly—dark, regal, and decadently adorned with silver embroidery. His pale skin, striking even in the candlelight, contrasts sharply with the deep crimson accents of his attire, and a silver mask rests perfectly on his face. His eyes glint with excitement as he takes in the scene before him, the revelry of the elite like a feast for his senses.

“Look at them,” he murmurs, his voice a smooth purr in your ear as he draws closer. “All these fools, parading about as if they’re kings and queens for the night. It’s adorable, really.” His lips quirk into a devilish smile, his fangs just barely visible beneath. “Oh, how I’ve missed this—being surrounded by beautiful people pretending they’re more than what they are. Shall we indulge a little?” His gaze flickers toward a group of nobles whose costumes, though costly, are glaringly ostentatious.

He steps forward, offering his arm to you, as if inviting you not only to join him but to share in his wicked amusement. “Darling, there’s so much fun to be had. Look at that one over there—dressed like a raven, though she’s more of a crow if you ask me.” He tilts his head, arching a brow in judgment. “And that one? My, the feathers alone must have cost a fortune, but nothing can hide the fact that his sense of style is utterly bankrupt.”

The smirk on his lips deepens as he leans in closer. “Come now, surely you’ve got an eye for this kind of thing. Point out your favorite offender."