closed starter | @asangel
Astarion moves through the camp with the languid grace of a predator, his sharp eyes taking in the familiar sights of their haven: the crackling fire at the center, the bedrolls arranged in a loose circle, the quiet murmur of his companions engaged in hushed conversation. Yet tonight, his focus isn’t on them. His attention is drawn to the new addition—a figure whose presence has stirred more than mere curiosity in the vampire spawn.
Azariel sits apart from the others, a spectral figure of divine elegance beneath the pale light of the moon. The blue hues of his skin catch the firelight, shimmering like the surface of a twilight sea. His wings, now unfurled and free, stretch out behind him in a display of celestial power, the kind of power that hums just beneath the surface of his flawless skin. Astarion has to admit, there’s a certain allure to the demigod—a beauty that’s almost too perfect, too radiant to be of this world. But it’s not just the aesthetics that draw him in; it’s the scent, faint but distinct, of divinity that lingers around Azariel. The tantalizing thought of what his blood might taste like—rich with divine essence, an ambrosia few, if any, vampires had ever known—makes Astarion’s fangs ache with a hunger he hasn’t felt in some time.
But hunger alone isn’t what propels him forward. There’s something else, a shared understanding buried beneath the years of torment that they both endured at the hands of merciless captors. Astarion knows the pain of being reduced to nothing more than a tool, a means to an end. He knows the bitterness of having one’s freedom stolen, the endless days of suffering with no promise of escape.
Perhaps that is why he approaches Azariel now, with a practiced air of nonchalance, his lips curling into a faint smile as he steps into the demigod’s space. ❛ I imagine it must be quite the relief, ❜ he begins, his voice smooth and unassuming, ❛ to finally stretch those magnificent wings of yours after so long. I, for one, have always found that freedom—however fleeting—makes the world taste just a bit sweeter. ❜ His crimson eyes gleam with a mixture of curiosity and something darker, as he waits for the demigod’s response.
