Astarion has finally found himself with a mortal lover. How very... quaint.

It was strange. It had been centuries, after all, since he had been turned. Turned by the Cazador Szarr in the 1500s. Turned and coached, molded, changed into how Cazador saw fit for an elf with such light in his eyes...

Astarion was changed, yes. That change is why he fled after a century or so.

He does know that Cazador still hunts him. It has to be so, in the way that terror is left in Astarion's wake when he is not the one to cause it. Only sometimes does Astarion leave terror.

Other times, it does follow. And Astarion always knows it is Cazador. So typically, Astarion... does not get so comfortable.

So Astarion has spent most of the 1800s alone. Fleeing. Becoming much of a ghost, though that was an entirely different fable to be concerned with....

But then there was the late 1900s. The quaint little villa he found himself lurking amongst.

The mortal that caught his eye.

"I must go.... You see, it's late. It's dangerous to allow a man into your home so very late, and I do need my beauty rest..." Astarion coaxes, though he makes no effort to trail off to the doors. He does not want to go.

He really would prefer staying.