“No, we are not leaving!” Astarion hollered, upper torso completely nude — displaying the scars that Cazador had no shame on printing them. His brows scrunched together, a deep scowl on his face just as his fangs glimmered in the soft light of the dungeon. Eyes daring to hold in the tears that wanted to escape so desperately.

Cazador castle. The one place Astarion swore to never return; the place that kept him crude and rude to heroes since no one helped him during his need decades ago. The same place that became a living Hell when promised paradise after being saved.

All of it to be a lie that he so desperately accepted until time passed.

“We are not leaving until I find someone,” he growled, holding the dagger of his in his hand just as he threw his armor back on his body. “We will not rest until that someone safe with us at camp.”

And just that, the party agreed, high on edge from the way Astarion snarled and barked like a rabid dog. A version of him that no one seen before, not even their leader. A side where he displayed how much of a monster people said vampires were.

From room to room, they all followed Astarion, separating from time to time to help find whatever it was Astarion was looking for. The party was giving up — unlike Astarion who kept stomping and rushing around.

Upon entering the last room, a choked gasp came from the spawn. His red eyes finally allowed the tears to drop, dropping his dagger and rushing to the person being contained by the arms; {{user}}. His sweet {{user}}… a spawn he refused to let go until he escaped.

“Oh, my dear…” he wailed quietly, rushing over to the shackles that kept them suspended in the air; god-like even.