#estarion.

[grief-worn]

What did one even gift an immortal vampire for their birthday? Another year of misery fraught with pain; that's essentially what it boiled down to. Why bother celebrating at all? She'd certainly not waste the effort, but Astarion was never a man to turn down shallow attention. He'd take any chance under a shower of praise and personalized offerings.

Getting him to shut up and bask in a good mood for once was worth whatever losses she may suffer. Might as well play along.

It was a week too soon, but better to snatch the early worm than to miss it altogether. He'd never let her forget if she happened to forget.

Wrapped in brown twine and left at his tent-step, she plopped her sacrifice and departed. With any luck, she'll be dead by the time his next birthday came around.

𝘿𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝘼𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚'𝙨 𝙖 𝙥𝙤𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙤𝙛 𝙜𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙄'𝙫𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. 𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙪𝙥 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙨, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙩 𝙢𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙝 𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙚. 𝘾𝙖𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙩'𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙. 𝙃𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙛𝙪𝙣, 𝙄 𝙜𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙨.

@estarion

[grief-worn]

grief worm.

would you still love me if i was a . . .

never mind. go back to walking into traps and failing perception checks, an-poo-nin.

[girlrequiem]

@estarion. ⊱ ♡

𝔫ame: asteria. (meaning "star / starry one"; also the greek titan of falling stars & nocturnal divination. an ode to both her parents, i think.)

𝔭hysical 𝔣eatures: fair—skinned like both parents. eyes are shaped similar to her mother's, almost doll—like, but shaded more ruby—red like her father's. features are more her father's, with balanced proportions & sharper features & high cheekbones. (inherited her father's nice lashes, too. lucky! oh, & his pointed ears.) nose is similar to amelia's: straight sloped with button nose-tip. lips are more amelia's as well, naturally rosy with the upper / bottom lip pretty full & equal. hair is dark, with curls very much like astarion's! (also has lil singular fangs that came in fully around three years, which was… fun.)

𝔭ersonality: as a baby / toddler, very curious! mischievous as soon as she learns what mischief is, really. of course, amelia teaches her to be polite & respectful asap, which she quickly learns to balance along with her trickster—esque nature. astarion teaches her the... other stuff. (hunting, feeding, all that.) loves to read & study about magic / fairytales / etc. as she grows older, is more on the ambitious & confident side; a bit impatient, too. still likes to play little (somewhat harmless) pranks & tricks on others, but always remembers her mother's teachings to be kind to her elders & children & the earth.

𝔴ho 𝔱hey 𝔱ake 𝔞fter 𝔪ore: honestly... takes after her father more than her mother. has her mother's eye shape & hair color, but that's about it. (lip & nose shape too.)

𝔭ersonal 𝔥eadcanon: i have a feeling that as she gets older, due to her almost otherworldly looks & charming (albeit sometimes difficult) personality, probably gets many confessions. however, is not easy to charm & doesn't just fall for some handsome / beautiful face. probably won't date or marry, but would rather just buy a home deep in the woods (ameliacore) & do her own thing. who knows, though!

[lunaferrous]

he resented the free space too much to fill it

are you luna's type?

Ah, well. This was... something. Memorable, to say the least, seeing as it stood out for several reasons.

She wasn't going to pretend like she didn't know what he had used for ink, either. She just chose not to acknowledge it, having more difficulty interpreting all of the smudges left on the page. She could count them, question was: was she meant to? Hard to tell.

"Looks like someone was in a hurry." She hummed, jutting her lower lip and looking rather puzzled. In it, she saw two things: promise and uncertainty. Uncertainty, coming from Astarion? Granted, she could have been wrong in her assessment. But what else could it be?

"I could be gracious and just give it you. You have most of the important ones filled in. But I have to ask about the smudges. Was this in your pocket and you just forgot about it, or...?"

@estarion

[grief-worn]

🐛

"If I'm the worm, you must be the ant."

A sudden pause, her face frozen in a frown. Were ants smaller than worms? Well, it might entirely depend on the kind of ant, and the kind of worm. She wasn't a bloody entomologist. She just could not stand this whirly-haired freak.

"Much, much worse than an ant. A flea. A mite. The tiniest, nastiest, little blip, easily overpowered by the worm."

Alright, Shadowheart, you're overcompensating.

"You're the furthest thing from scary, Astarion. You have absolutely no room to judge."

He actually scared her quite a bit. And she would never admit this.

[grief-worn]

🤜🤜🤜

She's normally better at this sort of thing.

Her senses have been sired under Lady Shar's own standard, she has been carved into Her dauntless soldier, enforcing darkness and all its grim promises. Even in the total absence of sight, she knows to keep hearing acute, predicting risk before it even comes close to meeting its mark.

But Astarion is a risk she's entirely unequipped to handle. The cantankerous bastard.

His arm is hooking itself beneath her chin with one strong tug, toppling her off-balance and planting her against his chest. She makes an undignified bleating sound, yanking and clawing at his wrist; a helpless victim to vampiric strength.

"Astarion! I know that's you!" He had snuck up so seamlessly behind her steps, striking when her back was turned. Her laundry sits wholly abandoned at the riverbank, the shirt she was in process of scrubbing now sunk to the bottom of the shallows. "This is not funny! You're not funny —"

Like salt in the wound, his knuckles drill a hole in her skull. Twisting, grinding, utterly destroying her meticulous arrangement of dark hair. It hurt, too. A burrowing pain that achieved complete disorientation and hot-blooded rage.

"You loathsome, vile, repugnant, little —"

She gives up on his arm, realigning efforts to his ear. One hand grips at it, bending the cartilage at a harsh angle. The sort of thing you'd punish a rebellious child with. Quite fitting.

She aims for the very tip of his shell, where bundles of nerves are most sensitive. Maybe it'll get him to surrender, but really she just wants him to cry.

"Let me go."

[grief-worn]

lae'zel is the most delightful person in this camp, what are you on about.

She thought she caught the whiff of something troubling. Decomposing. Entirely displeasing.

"You would say that, wouldn't you? You're both two peas in the proverbial pod." Her upper lip hikes itself up, a brattish expression very unbecoming of a poised lady. "Don't pretend as if you share anything in common. The only reason you get along so well with that brute is because you get to lap up the leftovers of her killing sprees."

Gods, is he still here? Doesn't he have more dusty books to stare at?

"You might want to make yourself scarce, Astarion. Too long out here and a bumblebee might mistake you for some beautiful dandelion."

[grief-worn]

something's the matter all right.

Her ability to stomach the vampire's general loathsomeness really varies from day to day. He's lucky tonight. She meets him head-on with a jab, and not a stab.

"What's wrong? Don't agree with the beverage selection this evening?"

She's putting on that high and fluttery cadence. It often makes its debut when she wants to belittle him.

"Maybe loosening that corset will make the wine taste better. Must be very hard being you, Astarion."