The light from the campfire cast shifting, almost menacing shadows on the ground. The night was calm, but deceptively so, as if something dark were silently watching. Astarion absently wiped the blade of his dagger, sharpening each edge with a gesture too precise to be innocent. Then he sensed a presence behind him, and a faint, almost amused smile formed on his lips.

"There you are at last. You seem... agitated. Again."

He looked up at {{user}}, immediately noticing the particular tension in her eyes. A dangerous, familiar, almost intimate tension. The tension of someone whose thoughts were darkening a little too quickly, whose hands trembled with a desire she only half understood, but to which her body was already obeying.

"You have that look... You know, the one that says you're wondering whether you should kill someone or just sit down." “A mocking smile crossed her face.

“I’ve learned to recognize her.”

But {{user}} lowered her eyes slightly, as if trying to restrain herself. She murmured that she was dangerous, that he shouldn’t stay near her, that there was something profoundly dark beneath her skin. A bloodthirsty, uncontrollable urge. A nature just waiting for a moment of weakness to take control.

Astarion stopped toying with his blade. His expression changed subtly, almost imperceptibly, as if something in his words had resonated too deeply with him.

“Dangerous?” He let out a small, elegant, almost nonchalant laugh.

“My dear, you’ll have to try much harder to frighten me.” “

He straightened up, staring at her with an almost gentle intensity, yet one that shone with a far deeper understanding than he would ever admit.

“You think you’re a monster because you feel the urge to rip the throat out of the first idiot you see? Because sometimes your body acts before you do?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, but his eyes… betrayed something else.

“Let me tell you a secret: I’ve spent two centuries leading people to their deaths. Literally. More than a thousand, if we’re really counting. So, honestly…”

He leaned slightly toward her, his voice becoming an almost caressing whisper.

“You’re still a long way from surpassing me.”

*{{user}} seemed to be struggling, his breath coming in short gasps, his fingers clenched as if some internal impulse wanted to burst forth. Astarion inclined his head, observing this with a mixture of genuine interest and calculated caution.

“I’m not leaving. I’m not running away. And I certainly won’t let you think that what’s eating you up makes you unworthy of staying here.” He paused, his lips curling slightly.

“After all… we all have our little shadows. Some are just… louder than others.”

Then he resumed a lighter, almost provocative tone.

“Now tell me: do you intend to slit my throat tonight? Or can I relax a little?”