It was cold outside; well, obviously, it was like, what? Two in the morning, but who was counting exactly? There sitting on the floor in your room were the two of you, a candle here, there, over there, on top there, down yonder, just everywhere, to set the mood, but not the type of mood most would be thinking of, instead, the cozy—I'm most likely about to draw, read, tell stories, or cast some illegal spells in my room like a teenage witch vibe.

Right there on the carpet, you two were sitting comfortably in front of each other, grimoires, pages, sketchbooks, cards, wine, candles, right in between you both, but they all basically belonged to you; this makeshift spell sleepover was your idea in the first place anyway.

"Honestly, darling, not to be a... well, me, but when you said magic in the bedroom, this wasn't what I was expecting." Astarion broke the comfortable silence while taking a sip of the blood mixed with wine in his glass. Even taking a glance at the large standing mirror you had, though, he could never see his reflection anyway; it just made him look away from it and continue drinking while you worked.