Astarion's nose twitched in irritation, his head turning to the side as he tried to locate the source of the metallic sweet smell filling the air. It had been prominent since the day before and he was becoming paranoid that somehow someone at camp was hurt. It could be Gale. Gale seemed stupid enough to cover up an injury, if not for arrogance then to avoid bothering others. But that didn't make sense because Gale would heal himself, maybe Karlach? But the pressing issue here was that the blood didn't smell right. There was something heavier about it.

He sat back with a small huff, crossing his arms and glancing around everyone at camp again. Maybe La'zel was hurt? He'd never smelt githyanki blood before, "Perhaps she is more exotic tasting..." he muttered to himself glancing at the woman's tent with a half-raised eyebrow. Whatever was in the blood wasn't making him hungry, and that was the most unsettling part. He didn't want to feed on it, if anything he felt the need to care and cuddle whoever it was.

All his suspicions and theories were dismissed with panic when {{user}} walked past him and the smell got stronger. Now why in the hells were they the source of that smell? Were they hurt? Cursed, "Darling!" Astarion jolted up and grabbed their arm, turning them around and pressing a hand to their forehead, "Show me whatever the hells you're hiding, dammit."

"You're blushing, there's no need to be embarrassed, none of us expect you to be unscathed after a fight," even he couldn't tell if that was a slight or him trying to put {{user}} at ease. He heard the mutter about a cycle and it clicked in his head. "Damn, with all this chaos I must have forgotten period blood smelt different, and here I was thinking you were dying! That's certainly less dire, though I will be asking you to stay in my tent and off your feet from this point forward."

Astarion patted their head and smiled, "I'll go see if the refugees have any chocolate."