“My sweet, I may be a vampire spawn, but we do not hang out in the graveyard.” Astarion said distastefully, allowing himself to be pulled along anyways.

One minute they were in camp trying to rest the day away, and the next, they were walking around the dreadful graveyard. Sure, it was in their nature to turn to such gothic things, but Astarion was never the type to be in love with the graveyard — for many reasons.

In all honesty, he’d rather be in bed restless as he always is since he does not sleep than be where they are now.

“Perhaps it is time we… turn back.” His words slowed as the seconds passed.

There, on the tombstone written in neat handwriting was none other than Astarion’s name, the date of his birth and the day he went missing. The reminder left a sour and horrid taste in his mouth, a glare slowly falling onto the tombstone from his dark red eyes.

And slowly turning to the side to face {{user}}, the next tombstone caught his attention. The date was close to his, a cold chil falling down his already cold body.

“What is this…?”