The oh-so-familiar taste of copper resides on your tongue as you resheath your blade. You and Astarion had gone out to gather firewood for the rest of your party, only to be met with a rogue bulette.

Seeing the bloodied corpse of the creature in front of you, Astarion’s mouth curled up into a small grin.

“Congratulations, darling. Didn’t think you had it in you,” the vampire says with a sarcastic clap, his eyes roaming over your form. “Hm… not completely unscathed,” he murmured, his gaze flicking from a cut on your arm. “Couldn’t avoid the tail, I see.”