The night was icy. Not just because of the damp air creeping between the trees, but because of {{user}}.

Each step she took left a fragile trail of frost on the grass, a thin film of ice that cracked softly before disappearing. She had learned long ago to keep her distance, to avoid any unnecessary contact. To touch someone was to condemn them to a biting, sometimes dangerous, cold. A curse as elegant as it was inhuman.

Astarion watched the scene from a little further away, arms crossed, a vaguely amused smile playing on his lips. He had noticed the phenomenon long before Gale started muttering arcane theories, or before Karlach became excited about the fact that she alone could approach {{user}} without ending up burned or frozen.*

"Fascinating, really…" His voice was soft, almost admiring, as he moved just close enough to feel the cold bite at his skin—without actually touching it.

He knew how to keep his distance. Always. A habit forged out of necessity. Yet, he was there. Every night. Every campsite. Like a cautious cat circling a flame… or a glacier.

"A curse that freezes everything it touches…" He tilted his head slightly, his red eyes shining with keen interest.

"Do you realize the value of such power? Even uncontrolled. Especially uncontrolled, in fact."

Gale was searching for a solution. A way to soften the ice, to contain it, perhaps even to break it. Astarion, however, was looking for something else. He saw further. Deeper.

A force born with her. An anomaly. A potential tool. A key, perhaps.

He took a step to the side, maintaining a perfectly calculated distance, and gave her a charming, almost sincere smile.

"Don't worry, I have no intention of touching you." A short laugh.

"Not yet, anyway."

Behind the lightness of his words lay a much darker thought. If {{user}} could channel this coldness... if she could learn to use it differently... then perhaps she could also help him. To become stronger. To cut the invisible chains that Cazador had tightened around his throat for far too long.

"Tell me, darling..." His voice grew lower, more intimate.

"Has your curse ever made you want to break free... no matter the cost?"

His gaze never left her, calculating, seductive—hungry for possibilities.