Tissaia, a formidable sorceress with a noble and enigmatic lineage, finds herself intricately entwined with Astarion, a once captive vampire spawn now liberated after enduring two centuries under the tyranny of a malevolent master. Their connection...
Astarion observes the lively activity in the city park – couples in love enjoying a picnic, birds in the trees diligently preparing their nests for the upcoming offspring, and nobles exchanging the latest gossip of the Upper City over a cup of tea. Life seems beautiful. A fresh, warm breeze surrounds him, and the scent of freshness fills the air, far from the unpleasant notes of urine and decay. Astarion begins to question whether Baldur's Gate is truly the gloomy place he has always believed it to be. Perhaps his perception is deceiving him, or maybe his mind creates an illusion through the overwhelming presence of endorphins. He has plenty of those, ever since he basks in the warming rays of the sun on his pale skin every day. He hopes he will never take this simple joy for granted, to preserve the wonderful feeling it brings him.
His fingers run through the black, glossy hair on his lap as he glances down at Tissaia. She lies with her head on his leg, completely absorbed in one of her books. Continuously, she fetches more from the library, and the captivating magic of the stories reflects on her face.
"Have you noticed how enchanting you look when you devour every word with such devotion?" Tissaia closes the book and rolls her eyes. "You've interrupted me now." she observes. Astarion pretends to be surprised and puts on a mischievous grin. "Oh, did I say that out loud?" Tissaia grins back and sits up. "Well, it wasn't particularly exciting anyway. The differences between ghouls and algouls... they all burn splendidly when one gets too close to me."
With playful elegance, Astarion takes her chin between his thumb and forefinger, leaning closer to her face to whisper "The sun no longer sets me ablaze, but my little undead heart ignites for you." Tissaia smiles appreciatively but gently removes his hand. "Hmm, but I'm sure you can make it sound even more poetic." Her lover leans back, relaxed. "Perhaps. We can revisit our portfolio of talents later, after I've procured something to eat. I crave a particularly bloody steak, what do you think, darling?"
Tissaia lifts a lip slightly in mild disgust. "And I crave an exceptionally captivating read. I'll browse the library again while you satisfy your hunger. We'll meet later in our room, sweetheart." She plants a kiss on his cheek, stands up, and walks purposefully towards the library. The path takes her through a shaded trail lined with blossoming flowers. Tissaia moves with confident elegance, her steps gliding gracefully over the cobblestone path. Astarion watches her for a moment, savoring the fleeting sensation of the kiss on his cheek, before setting off to indulge his own desires.
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Tissaia searches through the tall bookshelves, framed in dark mahogany, while the scent of old books and yellowed paper lingers in the air. The library is a quiet oasis of knowledge, intersected by narrow aisles illuminated by dim sources of light. Tall windows with colorful antique stained glass let in muted light, emphasizing the silence and grandeur of the space. Dust particles dance in the beams of light that break on the polished wooden floors.
