[ Now that he's imagined Sebastian without the grime and years of suffering on his face, Astarion can do the same for the others. He'd thought they'd all blur together, and they had for all of those years. People he'd used and offered up and told himself never to think of again. All of a sudden, though, the memories come rushing back. A wan, sickly-looking tiefling in the corner who had been uproariously outgoing. A human the next cell over who'd smelled horribly of ale but now only smells of death. An elf who'd treated him poorly then, now looking every bit the victim.

Sebastian is still perhaps the worst of all, because he'd been sweet. Guileless. He'd looked at Astarion like he was something special, and then Astarion had thrown him to the wolves.

"I'm so hungry," says another spawn, spindly fingers reaching out through the bars. She can't quite reach. "Please, just a drop of blood."

Astarion says nothing to them, instead tugging Iorveth a few steps away. His voice lowered, he hisses, ] Just because they're able to talk to us doesn't mean they won't drain you and everyone else in the city once they have the chance.

[ It's true, although it isn't really what he's thinking right now. What he's really thinking is that it feels so awful to exist in this moment that he wants to erase every link to his past life off of the face of the earth. ]