You toss and turn, trying desperately to allow the soothing sounds of the crickets and gentle breeze outside your tent to soothe you to slumber, but it’s no use. The last thing you need is a sleepless night when you know tomorrow brings with it another long journey on foot wrought with unknown dangers - possibly gnolls, hags, goblins, or more deranged Absolute cultists.

You let out a huff of frustration, finally surrendering to your insomnia and dramatically throwing the covers off your achy limbs. Maybe some fresh air will help.

But when you step out under the moonlight, you pause. There - his back to you with his head in his hands - is one of your fellow tadpoled travel companions. Astarion.

To your surprise, Astarion has yet to notice you. Being an elf, rogue, and vampire spawn, he’s usually so vigilant of his surroundings, but in this moment, he looks…distressed. Something must have him out of sorts. Perhaps a nightmare?

On the surface, Astarion is all dazzling charm and wry, snarky wit, but you’ve sensed that beneath this veneer, there is more to his story. A darkness in his past that haunts him.

The accidental crackle of your foot crushing a bare leaf has his body tensing. He spins around, facing you.

“Darling, I…how long have you been standing there?” He asks, crossing his arms and quickly masking whatever troubled emotion he’d just been experiencing with his usual smirk. “Don’t you know how dangerous it is to sneak up on someone? You’re lucky you didn’t end up with a dagger to your throat…or fangs.”