galefcrce

[galefcrce]

cat people doing cat people things like involving their cats in everything. Pt. 5 of the portraits. Yippee.

#obligatory Gale and Tara share #͙͘͡★ char. gale of waterdeep #͙͘͡★ char. tara #q.

[galefcrce]

"Well, consider it a Waterdhavian courtesy to view gold as the initial offering of trade. The offer of a significant load of gold as payment will remain open regardless," he pressed, much rather having lighter pockets than to consider trade of the arcane with a wizard of such poor reputation.

Regardless, Gale's personal and professional opinion must be set aside, for it was a matter of survival for him. A fact that he knew he must keep to himself.

"I have no intention of restoring Netheril if that is what you imply. I much prefer to reside in the City of Splendours; the sea air does wonders, as I'm sure you are aware, having resided in Baldur's Gate for some time."

Gale feigned complacence as he strolled around the room. There was a hint of truth in his confidence; despite the orb, in the last few months of traveling, Gale had found a way to rebuild a vast amount of his wizardly strength. But still, he hoped his reputation as an archmage would suffice in convincing the other wizard. "In fact, I have no desire to wholly possess the book; I merely wish to read the texts. You may keep it locked away in your vault once I have finished perusing."

𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐃 with a contemptuous chuckle, placing his cup back down.

"Indeed, I do possess a tome on the works of Karsus," he drawled arrogantly. "And you, Gale of Waterdeep, aren't the first mage who has come humbly requesting my permission for access to its secrets. One wizard even journeyed all the way from Cormyr." His smug smile grew wider with each word, before his haughty expression shifted to feigned offense.

"Gold? You wound me if you think I would sell such invaluable knowledge for mere coin. Well," he added, "... certainly not for the sum you could muster, I assure you."

There was a momentary pause as he regarded his visitor with an amused look.

"Surely you're not one of those fools who aspire to follow in Karsus's footsteps?"

#that tag is beautiful hahah #͙͘͡★ rel. lorroakan #͙͘͡★ chapter. the crown #͙͘͡★ story. a difference of opinions #lcftyambiticns #q.

[galefcrce]

Gale Dekarios

#(: #͙͘͡★ char. gale of waterdeep #q.

[galefcrce]

"Oh, ho. Indeed, quite a ways. I'm usually not a travelled man these days, so it's safe to say I am rather out of my usual abode. That being said," he paused to accept the offer of the stool. Drawing it close to his form with the sound of wood scraping against the floorboards before creaking under the wizard's weight. "I am enjoying my adventure, of sorts. Well, I am enjoying the new scenery it brings and the pleasantries of kind folks I have the good fortune of meeting." A smile graced the wizard as he gestured towards Tareque.

A minute head tilt as Gale observed Tareque's seating arrangement; needless to say, he was impressed somewhat. Still, the stool sufficed. It alleviated the pressure from his knees and was tall enough to allow his legs to stay stretched out.

"My drive? Oh, well. In the simplest setting, it's all I know. Magic, quite literally, is my life. Casting spells is perhaps one of my earliest memories, and I wouldn't wish to have my life any other way. The comfort of the embrace of the Weave, the power at my fingertips, the sword and pen all in one." A pause followed as the wizard cleared his throat, remembering not everyone was as devoted to the arcane as he was. "But I fear my renowned stature may have been tarnished as of late. Say, would you know of many wizards?"

Wash his mouth out with soap? Tareque's brow knit with an amused confusion (and curiosity, most certainly,) but his grin was wide as he listened to the way those man weaved his words. Oh, he was fun, and Tareque was beginning to find himself fortunate that this unique person had decided to wander in his direction on this day.

"Waterdeep? You are some way from home, then." He was a bit surprised, but pleasantly so. And he couldn't help the passing wondering of if this man might know Gale if he was of such reknowned claim. How fascinating that would be? Tareque could scarcely imagine the things he would discuss with him if ever given the opportunity.

He motioned to one of the vacant wooden stools near the main counter where sales were done, inviting him to have a seat if he liked. Commentary could be added regarding those creaking knees, but Tareque bit his tongue in the rare off-chance that he was simply talking about a friend and not himself.

Considering that a physical seat wasn't precisely a requirement for him, Tareque sat back in the air as he so often did, idly drawing his pipe from a pocket of his robe.

"Tell me, my new Mysterious Friend. What has driven you to become so renowned? Why have you found it exhilarating enough to devote such ongoing focus?" Small talk was brilliant and all, but Tareque was more interested in learning from people, and about them. Chatter about the weather could never compare to genuine discussions about passions and ambitions. That was where you could see the true core of a person.

#Gale is fully convinced they have already been through introductions now lmao #͙͘͡★ rel. tareque #͙͘͡★ chapter. preventing ceremorphosis #͙͘͡★ story. potions #shadovan #q.

[galefcrce]

☀️

insp. by @astrariums

#love it #͙͘͡★ char. gale of waterdeep #q.

[galefcrce]

💜 Gale

#͙͘͡★ char. gale of waterdeep #q.

[galefcrce]

"Time," Gale concurred. "Time and the lack of desire to give it a trim I suppose, although upon consideration, perhaps a light trim would be beneficial. As for the beard, would you care to share that sentiment with my Tressym? It may persuade Tara to pester me less." A soft smile followed the statement, an attempt to bring levity to their exchange.

Gale found himself drawn to Astarion's eyes, pondering the colour they once held before the transformation. Blue? Green? A blend of the two? It was difficult to envision his appearance before he became a vampire. In a peculiar way, Gale had grown accustomed to the crimson hue, finding a strange comfort in its familiarity, mostly as he associated it with the man before him.

"Sibling?" The admission offered a diversion from Gale's musings on Astarion's appearance, redirecting their conversation towards personal matters. "Ah, or well, 'sibling'?" he amended, using air quotes to copy Astarion in emphasizing the term. "I presume she is another Spawn?"

Gale hesitated, mindful of the delicate balance between curiosity and respect for privacy. While his nature inclined him to inquire further, he understood the importance of discretion, having himself been reticent to share his own past with others.

< insight check: 13 >

Watching as Gale observed himself in the mirror, Astarion wondered at the expression on the man's features, wondered at the way the man seemed to react to whatever he saw there. He could tell something was amiss... but what it was he wasn't entirely certain. Whatever it was, it was outside of Astarion's knowledge on Gale... but what he could tell was that Gale wasn't entirely fond of whatever it was he saw in that mirror of his.

Odd, considering the attractiveness of the man.

"What made you grow it out?" he questions, gaze drifting to Gale's mouth not because he wanted to kiss him (he did), but because the man mentioned his beard. "I do quite like your beard... you should keep it.."

"As for what's changed on me... nothing, I suppose, outside of the obvious. My eyes changed colors and my skin is paler than what I imagine it would have been when I was alive. My hair was cut by Aurelia, a 'sibling' of mine," he used air quotes, lips twisting into a bit of a sneer. He wasn't overly fond of any of his siblings, but if he had to be fond of one or two, Aurelia would make the cut. The poor soft hearted fool.

It was the first time he had mentioned his siblings to anybody, a fact he had yet to realize he opened up about.

#he's like “no I wanna respect boundaries but also wanna know more about you” #͙͘͡★ rel. astarion #͙͘͡★ chapter. preventing ceremorphosis #͙͘͡★ story. broken fingers #never surrender #q.

[galefcrce]

Lazy morning, he caught you watching him sleep.

#͙͘͡★ char. gale of waterdeep #q.

[galefcrce]

Hello. Yes, Munday! Let me introduce you to Tara who adopted me a while back:

#͙͘͡★ ooc. the player

[galefcrce]

The silence that followed, though brief in reality, felt drawn out to Gale. Each blink seemed slow as his mind swiftly connected the dots: Halsin was indeed unaware of his condition. Surprising, in a sense; Gale had expected someone to make a comment or even crack a joke. Yet, in another sense, he was deeply grateful that people had kept his secret.

After all, it was his condition and therefore his responsibility to warn the archdruid. A burden Gale must bear as part of his folly. He hoped Halsin wouldn't relinquish his kindness upon learning the full extent of the orb and its potential consequences for them all.

"They do, in fact. I partially anticipated that one of them would have informed you by now. I am glad, somewhat, that it is probably much better to be aware of my condition directly from the source itself." He gestured to his chest, indicating he meant to be the source.

Questions were to be expected. In a way, it was easier to discuss the details of the orb when broken down by queries.

"It is quite heavy, but I can assure you, I have maintained this condition for a considerable length of time, and I do not intend to allow it to impact our goals." His fingers uncurled from the balled fist he had made, the palms slightly raw from the grazing of fingernails. It hadn't been so difficult to discuss the matters of the orb previously, but in those cases, he was too consumed by the agony of the orb to comprehend potential responses to his predicament. Now, the only pain was the constant throb in his chest, a dull ache that he learned to tune out.

"There's an orb within me, some part of Netherese within me. It constantly hungers for the Weave. At many times, it's content with my own magical abilities, but often it craves for more. If I don't quell it then, to simply put it, it will consume me whole and detonate. A powerful detonation, enough to level a city the size of Waterdeep - if my calculations are right. But I can keep it at bay. At times when my own magic isn't enough, I can consume the Weave, enchanted to magical artifacts. These are enough to quell the hunger, keep it at bay."

He swallowed harshly before continuing, his eyes glancing to the soil before returning to meet Halsin's gaze.

"I promise you, as I did with the others, if I experience a moment where I believe I can no longer contain this orb, I will leave and find a spot far away. You will not be in danger as long as I live."

The Archdruid frowned, the wizard's half-answer to his question not sitting well with him. Of course they all had their burdens, but that did not mean that any of them -- Gale included -- needed to shoulder them alone. Halsin understood that he was a newcomer in their unique group -- it was likely he did not yet understand their dynamics, but he hoped there was some sort of support system amongst them. If not, he would provide it himself.

As Gale continued, Halsin listened carefully, his face impassive as the wizard described some sort of condition that caused him to be a danger to all of them if not maintained. In his time as a healer, he had witnessed a number of deficiencies in the human body, but they only posed a danger to the individual, not to everyone around them...

Did he refer to the illithid tadpole? Surely not -- they had already discussed the group's collective condition, albeit briefly, after they had rescued Halsin from the Goblin Camp. So what condition had the wizard -- an Archmage -- so distraught that he was trapped in a cycle of insomnia? And what kind of danger were they in?

After a long pause, Halsin finally said, " --Hmm. I see. "

He took another moment to collect his reeling thoughts, keenly aware that Gale was watching him, waiting for some sort of reaction. Hazel eyes shifted briefly to the spread of tents across their camp. He was a newcomer, he reminded himself, and Gale seemed like a good man. But Halsin had an obligation as a healer, as Archdruid, as someone who cared about the people around him, to ask questions, especially if they were in danger. He looked back to the wizard.

" --That is... certainly a unique condition. And it seems like a heavy burden indeed, " he said slowly, " ...What kind of condition is this? How do you... maintain it? "

And he hated feeling obligated to ask a seemingly honest man, " ...Do the others know--? "

#hahaha oh he has no idea what chaotic group he's found himself with yet #gale's lowkey scared of Halsin not taking the news well #͙͘͡★ rel. halsin #͙͘͡★ chapter. preventing ceremorphosis #͙͘͡★ story. restlessness #alittebitofmuse #q.

[galefcrce]

Boyfriend shaped

#:) #͙͘͡★ char. gale of waterdeep #q

[galefcrce]

If the Spawn had made such gestures and not the Vampire Ascendant, Gale would have responded with a loving gesture of his own. He would have taken a step closer, closing the gap to plant a gentle kiss on Astarion's cheek, followed by whispers of sweet nothings. But this was no ordinary moment of affection; it was a crucial part of their plan. Gale had to envision the man before him as the Spawn he once was.

With worry in his eyes, unsure of how Astarion would accept the approach, Gale reminded himself of the necessity of the façade. The man who stood before him, the man who had once been his lover, had to become his lover again if their plan was to succeed. His hand, previously poised before Astarion's lips, uncurled to reach out and cup his cheek.

Astarion's gesture, the show of kindness. And then in Gale's own mind whispered words of desperation; perhaps they weren't entirely an act. The words and behaviour were indeed rehearsed, but they also carried a genuine weight. It made the performance easier to execute. Gale's thumb stroked the pale skin of the vampire before he spoke, his voice heavy with remorse.

"I am sorry."

Sorry for not stopping this from happening in the first place. Gale had stood there, in shock and horror, as Astarion carved those ruins into the back of Cazador, relishing in the cries of his old Master. The fool within Gale had hoped it was merely an act of revenge, a ploy to scare the monster into believing the ritual would take place and then destroy the Vampire Lord for good. Yet, when Astarion grasped the staff and Gale took one last glance into the eyes of his lover, he remembered the fear before the ritual consumed them all.

In truth, the word "sorry" failed to suffice. Apologies were merely words; Gale intended to rectify his mistake and undo what he should have prevented.

"I am so sorry."

He had no desire to speak to another person in this room.

Though he may not crave the life blood of others as he once did, Astarion's senses were still so very attuned to the beating of hearts. How they quickened. How they slowed. How they trembled like in Gale when he spoke. A chorus to his ears. Was it in fear or want he wondered?

"An apology?" Astarion was tempted to force Gale to declare it here in the middle of the dance floor. See how sincere he truly was. "Don't fret." He circled around Gale leading him through the steps. What an elegant portrait they made among the other courtiers. His hand placed itself firmly in the middle of his dance partner's back. He dipped Gale down as the song reached it's epilogue.

The final notes of the chorus echoed throughout the grand hall. "I'd allow it." The sooth tenor of his spoke nothing of if he'd accept it. His eyes half lidded with a smile that would almost appear gentle if the emotion wasn't absent in his eyes. He stood slipping his arms free of his partner's. Those ruby eyes never once breaking from Gale's.

He held the wizard's hand as he brought it up to his lips, kissing his knuckles. Around them the other couples bowed. Astarion did not so much as bend even minutely at the waist. "Why not mingle with my guests for a while? They'll be eager to meet you."

#HA HA ow #͙͘͡★ rel. astarion (ascended) #͙͘͡★ chapter. a sliver of hope #͙͘͡★ story. guest of honour #apalestar #q.

[galefcrce]

There was always something to be said for a simplistic lifestyle. The absence of clutter made their current nomadic habits easier, but it was a life that Gale could never live in the longer term. He found small delights in objects of interest, or perhaps simply of entertainment. Items that kept the mind occupied were frequently found in Gale's tent, along with whatever source of comfort he could find—pillows, throws, items that reminded him of home in particular.

Needless to say, among the variety of objects, a spare lanceboard did not reside in Gale's tent. However, he had no issue fibbing to Aubrey about it if it meant she would accept his gift offering with little fuss.

"If you were given your own lanceboard, perhaps you would indulge in some practice. A good sparring of the mind. I would be more than happy to source a spare from my tent. It has some wear due to the impact of the rubble from which I salvaged the board, but I can assure you all pieces are intact."

Gale was quite aware of his penchant for babbling, especially when attempting the art of deception, so he briefly occupied his mouth with a sip of tea. The herbs did wonders for soothing the soul. He ought to inquire about where the druids sourced such a herbal blend—a quest for tomorrow.

"Oh, paint? A beautiful hobby. To capture the essence of a moment in time and place onto a canvas is as remarkable as the Weave itself. What is your preferred style?"

Her tent was ... quite sad, really. With very little as far as expression went, her tent bore the bare minimum of what was necessary to survive. No comforts were seen outside of a blanket that was clearly well used... and why?

Well it was quite simple, really.

She didn't see herself and her hobbies as something important enough to bring into camp. Why load herself and potentially somebody else down with something as trivial as paints and various art supplies that would do the party no good in the long run? Sure other's weren't in the same mindset as herself... hell even Lae'zel herself had more expression of who she was in her tent than Aubrey did.

"Do I play?" she parrots the words, before a bashful sort of smile rises to her features, a flush coloring her darker skin as she shrugs. "I mean... I play, but I dont' play well. You'd beat me, undoubtedly, with as smart as you are," a compliment, sure, but one directed towards him while undermining herself.

"I tend to paint in my free time, honestly. I never could quite understand the game well enough to play it by myself ... and when you paint, there's more room for error than with the lanceboard... if you'd like though, I'd be happy to play with you, if you want to go get yours!" She holds her cup delicately between her hands as she brings it to her lips to take a lingering sip from. In doing so, her eyes close as she relishes the taste of it, humming a soft sound of pure content as she does.

#[ a holy shit nat 20 for deception - he did a good job lying about that board ] #͙͘͡★ rel. aubrey #͙͘͡★ chapter. preventing ceremorphosis #͙͘͡★ story. confessions #never surrender #q.

[galefcrce]

A kitten at heart

#this is so wholesome #͙͘͡★ char. gale of waterdeep #͙͘͡★ char. tara #q.

[galefcrce]

"Apologies! Apologies!" Gale exclaimed, not at all intending to startle the bard. His attempt to stoop down and reclaim the fallen pen was hindered by his aching knees. It had been a long day of trekking, and between the wear and tear of the orb and the relentless passage of time, his joints suffered from the strain of their journey. By the time he had managed to crouch down, the pen was already being reclaimed by the other.

Gratefully accepting the offer to occupy the vacant spot beside Alaara, Gale settled in with as much grace as a weary wizard could muster. A soft groan accompanying, of course.

"Like a dying owlbear? Oh, I doubt our pale friend would appreciate that. I implore you to keep that snippet of description in your works come publication," he replied with a hint of amusement, craning his neck to see if he could detect the phrase in her writings.

However, his eyes paused mid-scan upon the explanation for his absence in the texts. It would be a lie to say the reasoning didn't cause a wave of relief to wash over Gale. For being unremarkable was possibly the worst thing to be as a wizard. His gaze flicked up from the page to the bard as she perused through her own work, then back down as she paused.

His brows knitted in concentration as he swiftly absorbed the notes dotted about him. Sparking eyes? An unusual observation, but a kind one. His dedication to his craft was evidently clear to others, aside from his vast knowledge. Yes, magic in its entirety, his goddess included, was everything to him. He had no need to attempt to hide as much.

He could dedicate hours, entire nights to discussing the Weave with another if they so wished. But to talk about himself, the man behind the magic? It felt foreign. At times, he didn't think he was more than merely a shell to contain a fraction of the Weave.

The previously knitted brows unfolded as he tried to consider who Gale was when not a wizard.

"Hmm…" Fingers drummed against the ground in thought. "Well, I have a companion—Tressym—a library, and a good taste in wine. When time allows, I may also dabble my hand in poetry. Would you happen to have much experience in the poetic arts?"

Alaara's pen abruptly scuttled across the page of her journal as Gale spoke, its tip piercing the paper as it neared the edge. She lost her grip as the quill embedded itself, and the writing implement tumbled from her hand and onto the ground. She fumbled to pick it up and blow the dirt out of it. By the gods he'd startled her. She took a deep, steadying breath and let it out slowly before looking up at him. How long had he been there, observing her work? His comment betrayed the fact that he'd been there long enough to read what she'd written down. Perhaps he'd been next to her nearly the entire time she'd been writing, observing every pen stroke she made. She found, to her mild surprise, that if that were true she was fine with that. His presence was gentle, regardless of whether he was calm and reserved or wildly and enthusiastically rambling about something he loved. It was a welcome difference to the others in camp who were hard-won and still fairly barbed.

"Gale! Yes. Tonight it felt more important to write things about everyone. Things that might be lost to time. Things nobody else would think important."

She nodded her head toward everyone else, still having a good time.

"Who would remember, for example, that Astarion wheezes like a dying owlbear when he laughs for real, but that he's all the livelier for it because he's happy? Like right now. Looks like Wyll's made an ass of himself so much that Astarion couldn't handle it." A small, amused grin graced her features as she pointed to the scene across camp. Her gaze lingered only but a moment on everyone else before flicking right back to Gale. "Even if these things don't make it into a story or a song, they help set the tone of a work. And for as long as this journal lives, it's all written down for whoever lays eyes upon its pages."

She patted the ground next to herself, inviting him to sit. "I was going to write things down about you, but you weren't with the others... I was starting to get worried. Now that you're here, I can send worry away. And now you can help me add to my notes about you." She flicked to a different set of pages, these ones already sparsely written upon. Alaara made no effort to shield the pages' content from Gale; she'd written down things she'd made sure to remember from their conversations about magic and music. There was a note about the sparkle in Gale's eye as he spoke of his vocation, about how raptly he paid attention when learning something new. And a little note scrawled diagonally and hastily that made mention of needing vastly more information to do the wizard justice.

"Surely there's more to you than just being a well-read, allegedly acclaimed wizard? There are many such wizards of Waterdeep. I can't tell you how many I've heard of in taverns there, even my own."

#I am enjoying this thread so much - ty! #͙͘͡★ rel. alaara #͙͘͡★ chapter. preventing ceremorphosis #͙͘͡★ story. ink to parchment #chaoticbard #q.

[galefcrce]

#bringing this back cause Tara #͙͘͡★ char. tara #͙͘͡★ char. gale of waterdeep #q.

[galefcrce]

Mortal touch wasn't exactly foreign to Gale, but it had been a considerable length of time since he properly felt the touch of another. For that, he wasn't sure if it was Astarion's skill or the long period of isolation that made Gale curl into every touch, a slight quiver of anticipation building and building as Astarion eased into the motion.

A satisfied groan escaped the wizard as he finally felt the ecstasy of Astarion stroking him, his eyes closed, his head tilted back into the grass. "Gods." A smile graced his lips as he basked in the sensation, his hips rolling slightly of their own accord.

It was the moment that brought his attention back down to the other, his brown eyes meeting Astarion's crimson ones. The press of fangs against his cock ought to have worried him, yet the smile only widened, the hint of danger only making it more exciting.

"Oh, more." Gale's breath caught, his plea almost a whisper. "Please." He found that manners certainly seemed to work, and Gale would never accept being rude, even in these scenarios.

A touch Gale wanted and a touch Gale shall receive. All of his encounters before now were for the pleasure of another. Truthfully, Astarion knew no other way. His own needs were brushed aside, so why bother dwelling on them in the first place. The rogue wasn't even sure what they were.

He fell back into the role. A seductive smile graced his lips. A light heart chuckle resonated from deep in his chest. "Begging already? I've barely gotten started." He flattened his fingers and palmed Gale in earnest a few times. It was second nature by now to know how to adjust his technique based on the noises his lover made.

Further back still Astarion reached to briefly cup his partner's ball. Finally, he leaned down to give Gale attention with careful presses of his teeth. He clearly enjoyed it before. During this Astarion allowed himself to drift away, a little. He possessed enough self control to not pierce flesh. Provide just enough of a sting for the threat that he could.

Astarion ran his fingers over the underside of Gale's cock before wrapping around him and stroking in earnest. He hummed against the mark he was pressing into the wizard's thigh. Moved further up still. His eyes glanced up from between Gale's legs. He pressed his fangs then at the base of his cock. "More?"

#sorry Astarion he's no idea this isn't in your comfort zone #͙͘͡★ rel. astarion #͙͘͡★ chapter. the mountain pass #͙͘͡★ story. killing loneliness #apalestar #q. #usfw #suggestive