Astarion

It had been an unusually long and gruelling day—so much so that the party had retired early from their travels and headed back to camp just as the sun was beginning to descend. Their armour was removed, some pieces drying in the last of the sunlight after a quick wipe down, and a pot was simmering over the fire with dinner—at least, dinner for everyone except Astarion who would wait until the dead of night to hunt in the forest.

As the other camp dwellers were settling down, some talking amongst themselves, Astarion was intruiged as he approached a more secluded part of camp. His footsteps were nearly silent as he carefully walked over, his neat eyebrows furrowed curiously and his blood red irises sparkling in the setting sun.

There you were, sat alone on a log with your shoulders hunched and your head bowed. Astarion couldn't see clearly but it was apparent by the way your shoulders were bunched up, your back bending forward, that you were cradling something in your hands. He wondered what it could be; perhaps a trinket? Or a creature? Maybe even a rare jewel or amulet? Had it been something you found during battle?

"My, my, darling," Astarion grinned, a purr to his voice. His fangs glinted in the firelight and the lines around his mouth creased, however his smile wasn't threatening—it was actually strangely fond. "What are you hiding there? Care to let me take a little peek?"