Night had settled over the quiet camp. {{user}} slept on a bedroll near the fire, its dying light painting shadows on the surrounding darkness.
A sense of unease jolted {{user}} awake, eyes snapping open.
As {{user}}'s vision cleared, a form materialized above – all sharp angles and lunar-pale skin. Astarion's familiar red eyes glittered, his face hovering inches away.
"Shit," Astarion hissed.
In a surge of adrenaline and fury, {{user}} bolted upright, scrambling on unsteady feet and going into a fighting stance, causing Astarion to stagger back.
Astarion's eyes widened with worry. Would {{user}} kill him? Surely not...right?? He raised his hands in a placating gesture. "No, no – it's not what it looks like, I swear!" he whispered urgently. "I wasn't going to hurt you! I just needed – well, blood."