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megidonitram · 1 month

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Everyone's Running From Something (ch. 4)

A Baldur's Gate 3 University Professor AU

Rating: M

Quick Summary: Astarion and Gale are two University English professors precariously mentoring a troubled 19-year-old and falling in love.

💖Main Pairing : BloodWeave,(Astarion/Gale) 💕Side Pairings: Shadowheart/Nocturne, Karlach/Dammon, Wyll/The Dark Urge, Tav/Tav 💔Past Pairings: Gale/Mystra, Astarion/Sebastian, Astarion/Tav

<=Previous Chapter | Master List | Ao3 | Next Chapter =>

**Please see Master List Entry for Full Content Warnings**

⏰Chapter Warning⏰ None

The all-hands meeting for the beginning of the semester went the same way every all-hands meeting at the beginning of semesters go. Every professor and TA in a humanities field got squeezed into a conference room that wasn’t quite big enough, had a powered sugar donut or a couple cubes of assorted melon with half a Styrofoam cup of burnt coffee, and listened to the departmental dean give an un-rousing speech about being on the same page with the other departments. Then he talked at nauseam about school policies and ran a quick training session over a new time-tracking software that would be implemented in 3 weeks’ time.

Gale scribbled down notes on a big yellow legal pad and tried to ignore Jen and Astarion, making faces at each other as he wrote. He’d been in academia long enough to know they’d both be crying to him in a few weeks when they messed up their timecards.

As the meeting drew to a close, a dapper man with slicked-back chestnut hair and a car salesman smile stepped into the room. Astarion went stiff like a cat puffing up to defend itself. The dapper man just gave him a plasticky, knowing smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

The dean perked up a bit as he noticed the man lingering in the back of the room. “Raphael, what a pleasant surprise! I had no idea you would be joining us,” he exclaimed, “We were just finishing up. Are there any words of wisdom you’d like to impart to our humanities faculty?”

“Oh, nothing so important,” Raphael said, and suddenly Gale understood why Astarion was so on edge. Everything about the man oozed with a disingenuous charm that made Gale’s hair stand on end. “I just realized I forgot to send out a notice about the upcoming donor gala the next coming Friday. I realized you were all in a meeting right now, so I thought I’d pop in and remind you in person.”

Raphael’s eyes landed directly on Astarion as he spoke his next sentence. “There is a reasonable expectation that faculty attend these events.” Out of the corner of his eye, Gale saw Astarion’s expression go steely. “After all, we want to show up and show out for the people who allow us to do so much.”

“Of Course!” The dean chirped. “I know I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The meeting adjourned, and Astarion immediately made a break for the door. Gale hurriedly gathered his things in one arm, instinctually following after the only person in the room he really knew, like a baby duck.

Raphael stepped into Astarion’s path before he could get out of the meeting room. “Ah, we meet again, Dr. Ancunín!” Raphael’s voice dripped with sugary contempt. “I will see you at the donor gala, won’t I?”

“Perhaps. Are you thinking about calling in that favor I owe you?” Astarion’s voice was clipped, his face unnervingly blank.

“I think I’d like to wait on that a little longer, but I would like you there in case I change my mind.” Before Astarion could respond, Raphael’s gaze slid off him and onto- “Dr. Dekarios! Wonderful to see you. Are you settling in well?” He reached out a hand to him.

Gale stuffed his legal pad into his work so he could shake Raphael’s hand. “Exceptionally well!” he replied. “Everyone’s done their utmost to make me feel very welcome!”

“Oh, you don’t have to fib on your new colleagues’ account, Dr. Dekarios. I’m more than familiar with how surly certain members of the English department can get.” Raphael laughed congenially, but Astarion shot him a poisonous look.

“I’m not lying to you, sir,” Gale replied. “Astarion’s been nothing but professional.”

“Well, perhaps he’s going a bit soft.” There was a flash of something dangerous behind his eyes. He turned to Astarion. “I shall see you next Friday.” It was a command more than a farewell, but he walked away all the same.

Astarion muttered under his breath. Gale didn’t catch what he said but could make an educated guess. Astarion exhaled a deep breath like he was equalizing pressure.

He turned to Gale and said, “Thank you.”

Gale blinked. “Of course.”

Astarion opened his mouth to say something else, but the words couldn’t or wouldn’t form.

Shadowheart stepped in between them, too concerned with responding to a text message to notice the weird tension. “Karlach wants to get drinks.” She said. “She got stuck in traffic and doesn’t want to drive all the way down here for nothing.”

“Roveer’s?” Astarion asked, a very weary resignation in his voice.

“Yes, probably.”

“Nothing like running into your students at a sports bar a week before classes start…” Astarion grumbled. “Fine. Let me finish here, and I’ll meet you there in, oh… 15 minutes.” He turned to Gale. “Are you coming?”

“To the office?”

Astarion gave him a perplexed look. “To the bar.” He clarified. “You should take the opportunity to meet Karlach.”

Gale could feel himself going bright red as Shadowheart snickered. “Right. Yes. I would love to.” He replied.

“I’ll let Karlach know you’re coming. She’ll be thrilled.” Shadowheart replied, giving Gale a warm smile. “I’ll go lock up. See you in a bit.”

“Come on then.” Astarion replied, nodding for Gale to follow him.

***

The all-hand meeting was on the third floor, so by the time they’d returned to the basement and back up a floor to leave, Gale was starting to fear his knees wouldn’t survive the week- let alone the semester. “There has to be an elevator in this building.” Gale huffed and puffed as he hoofed it up the last flight of stairs. He didn’t want his new colleague’s first impression of him to be of him on his hands and knees wheezing. “I can’t take much more of this…”

“There is, but personally I don’t like chancing it unless I really don’t want to be in a meeting.” Astarion slowed to a stop at the top of the stairs to wait for him. He didn’t seem any worse for wear, but he also seemed much trimmer than Gale was- or at the very least, his shirt accentuated the pleasing nip of his waist. Gale wondered if Astarion was a swimmer. “A history adjunct got stuck in it overnight a few years past, and it still reeks a little bit when it gets hot enough.”

Gale laughed, but Astarion very pointedly did not.

The conversation lulled a little bit.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” Gale asked.

“That entirely depends on what you want to ask.” Astarion stepped into the hallway, taking a moment to slip into his grey wool peacoat before they ventured outside.

“Raphael, is he always…”

“Such an ass?” Astarion finished his thought. Gale wouldn’t have used such a strong word, but Astarion had gotten the spirit of the question right, at least. “He’s usually much worse.”

“Oh?”

“He’s a glorified middleman with too much power and time on his hands.” Astarion scoffed. “He enjoys putting things in people’s way and watching them try to wriggle their way out of problems he created. My advice is to deal with him as little as possible.”

“Is he who you went to talk to earlier?”

Astarion gave him a poisonous look that only confirmed Gale’s suspicion.

They walked across campus in uneasy silence. The bitterly cold wind whipped and whistled, tossing the last remnants of fall leaves across the concourse. The few student residents who’d gotten in that morning had either decided to hold up in their rooms or were enjoying their free time in more exciting corners of town. Gale found himself wondering what Xenia was doing... He hoped she wasn’t all alone in an empty dorm.

“Does Xenia have many friends?” Gale asked as they approached a crosswalk leading to the block of shops across from campus.

“Hm?” Astarion tapped the pedestrian-call button, which commanded them to ‘wait!’ in a mechanical voice. “I think she probably has more friends than she realizes she does. Kids like her tend to think they’re alone in everything.”

“Poor kid… Seems like she’s been through enough.” Gale sighed. There was something heartbreaking in the phrase ‘kids like her.’ It was sad to think that there were more 19-year-olds out there carrying emotional burdens far too heavy for their age- sadder still to think that if there weren’t, then Xenia would be alone.

“She’ll figure herself out eventually. She’s not like…” Astarion paused, seemingly a little shocked by what he was about to say. He leveled a wary glance at Gale. “She’s not a quitter, I mean.”

“I’m sure she’s not. I just hope she doesn’t run herself ragged.” The walk light flashed, and they hurried across the street.

***

They were comedically out of place in Roveer’s Roadhouse. A group of grown adults in Oxford dress crowding around a sticky Bud-Lit branded high top surrounded by a bevy of flatscreen monitors playing every sports broadcast under the sun. Shadowheart was already nursing a syrupy cocktail out of a chipped margarita glass.

An extremely tall woman with a red tipped mohawk and smiling eyes bounded over to Gale and clapped a firmly friendly hand on his shoulder. “You’re the new Adjunct, I take it?” She asked. “I’m Karlach, Professor Cliffgate, if you’re nasty.”

“Gale Dekarios.” He reached out to shake her hand. She fist-bumped him instead, and Gale got a glimpse of a nasty burn scar peeking out from the sleeve of her jacket. “It’s a pleasure!”

“Aw, I have a great-aunt named Gale!” Karlach replied.

“I get that a lot…” Gale sighed. “I like your hair!”

“Thanks!” Karlach tussled her own hair. “Told my kiddos they could pick what color I dyed it if they all passed their benchmarks.”

“Does Balduran give benchmarks?”

“Oh, no. Teaching university is my side gig,” Karlach replied. “I’m actually a full-time middle school teacher.”

A spindly girl with bleach-blonde hair pulled into space buns sidled up to the table, clutching a notepad. “Can I take your order?” She seemed quite put upon being asked to do actual work on a slow day.

“Vodka Soda,” Astarion replied, holding his ID out to the server.

She took it and dropped it in her apron, jotted something down on her notepad, and turned to Gale with an expectant look.

“I’ll, uh, take a Corona,” Gale replied. He’d never ordered a Corona in his life, but it seemed like an acceptable ‘getting drinks with colleagues’ kind of an order.

The server stood there staring at him a moment long before she asked, “ID?”

“Oh, um…” Gale patted for his wallet and realized he left it in his desk drawer. “I didn’t realize I would need it…”

“You didn’t realize you’d need an ID at a college bar?” Astarion asked dryly as he turned to the server. “Just put it on my tab.”

The server nodded and walked away without asking if they needed anything else.

“Wow Gale, just one day on the job, and you’re already bumming free drinks off the department chair.” Shadowheart teased. She took a sip of her drink crinkling her nose at the taste.

Gale flustered. “I-I was going to pay with my phone, I swear! I wasn’t planning this.”

“Relax. We’re not so underpaid that I can’t afford to buy you one beer.” Astarion rolled his eyes. “You can return the favor when you get your first paycheck.”

Gale blushed. “Alright.”

The server brought them their drinks without another word, then plopped down at the end of the bar to scroll on her phone. Gale pushed the lime through the neck of his beer bottle and watched it fizz as it sank to the bottom of the dubiously golden liquid.

“So, did I miss anything important at the all-hands?” Karlach asked idly, stirring her bourbon and coke.

“You know you didn’t,” Shadowheart replied. “We’re changing timecard systems, and Raphael and Astarion are in another one of their weird power struggles-there, I saved you an hour and a half.”

Karlach’s eyes lit up, and she turned towards Astarion. “Before the semester even starts?” There was a conspiratorial glee in her voice. “What the fuck could he have possibly done this time?”

“Why spoil the mood by ruminating on that rat bastard?” Astarion said. He picked the lemon slice out of his drink and laid it on a napkin. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Fair.” Karlach shrugged. She turned back to Gale and fixed him with a warm smile. “So, Gale, what brings you to the wonderful world of higher education?”

Gale had thought a lot about what he would tell people when they asked him why he wanted to teach college. He’d written little speeches in the shower about the joys of teaching language and the satisfaction of helping students reach their goal, but sitting in a group of other English professors, that suddenly all felt very trite.

“I was a public librarian, but I had to step away from my last position when I got divorced.” He admitted. “I found a job at a community college teaching database management, and I realized I’d just always missed teaching.” He took a long pull of his beer. The sour of the lime battled with the bitterness of the beer on his tongue.

“Library science might be a harder industry to break into than academia. It must have been tough to leave that behind.” Astarion mused.

“I do miss it terribly sometimes… but my ex helped me get into graduate school and got me my first library job. If I stayed, I would never be able to make anything that was truly mine.” Gale sighed. He could see the wheels spinning in Shadowheart’s head as she tried to figure out his age.

“You talk like you’re as old as this bag of bone,” Karlach pointed a thumb at Astarion, who glared daggers at her. “But there’s no way you’re that old.”

“I’m 35.” Gale clarified.

“That’s a little bit older than I thought, but still nowhere near as old as Astarion,” Shadowheart said.

“You are barely two years younger than me.” Astarion snapped.

“Barely a decade older than Gale, too.” Shadowheart shot back.

Astarion rolled his eyes and muttered something into his drink. “Did you go to get your master’s straight out of undergrad?” he asked.

“Yes, why?”

Astarion shrugged. “That’s just quite young to be with someone that well-established in their field.”

“Oh, we didn’t get together until I graduated.” That wasn’t entirely true. They didn’t get together publicly until he graduated. He didn’t know why he was still defending Mystra. It wasn’t like any of his new colleagues would ever meet her.

“I wasn’t trying to imply anything…” Astarion lied.

“Of course not.”

They both took a sip of their drink, holding awkward eye contact.

“Well, here’s to making something for yourself then,” Shadowheart said, holding her drink out to Gale for a cheers.

Gale clinked the neck of his beer bottle against her glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

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velwynn · 2 months

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oh yeah i updated mystra's gambit before i fell asleep last night

it starts to get extra spicy in ch 4, also chessfic is now gonna be 5 chapters

#velwynwrites #fic: mystra's gambit #bloodweave

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sadinasaphrite · 5 months

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Friday Nights Ch 4

Whoops, forgot to get this up on tumblr again. Here's chapter four of the Professor Gale bloodweave AU!

Read on AO3!

Gale dreamed of Astarion.

He wandered aimlessly through a fluid, ever-changing dreamscape that morphed between the bar, his office, his condo, and the lecture hall. Astarion flitted in and out of sight, sometimes in his leather jacket, sometimes in a bathrobe, but always just out of reach. Gale followed him, chasing the tease of pale skin and ivory curls, somehow knowing if he never caught him, Astarion would vanish forever.

The dream shifted, and Astarion was suddenly here, the chase over without a conclusion, sliding into Gale’s space and catching his wrist. Astarion pressed Gale against a chalkboard, silk robe spilling off his shoulders. He pinned Gale’s wrists against him.

“See something you like?” Astarion purred.

Gale’s heart raced, pulse throbbing in his ears and pounding through his skull. He tried to speak, but his tongue moved like lead, only able to give an indistinct grunt in reply.

Astarion kissed Gale’s wrist. Gale moaned and melted against the chalkboard, which turned into a bookshelf, which turned into his bed, Astarion straddling his hips.

Cold lips pressed against his skin, kissing his wrist over and over. The slick touch of Astarion’s tongue followed, licking along his skin, sliding up to—

“Hng!”

A sharp pain pierced through his dream, dragging Gale back to awareness. He thought he heard the sounds of a scuffle, but when he opened his eyes, he only saw Tara on the bed beside him, her fur puffed and wings flared.

“Tara?” Gale mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “What time is it? What… ow… what the devil?”

Two puncture wounds marred his wrist, a few inches apart. They bled sluggishly.

“What happened?” Gale asked, staring dumbfounded at his wrist.

“Just a pest,” Tara said, flicking her tail.

“Like… like a spider?” Gale supposed if he’d been laying on a spider, it could have bitten him twice as it tried to crawl out from under him. He’d never seen a spider bite bleed before.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Tara said. “You get that cleaned up, I’ll deal with the situation.”

She hopped off the bed and strutted out of the room, her tail held high.

Gale stared after her. Well, that must mean the spider isn’t still in his bed, at least. He rose to his feet with a groan and shuffled to his bathroom. The bathroom light blinded him for a moment, then he began washing the punctures. They were sore, as if the bites went deeper than just piercing through skin. As the running water washed blood from the wounds, Gale stopped and stared.

His blood was black.

No, not black, he corrected. But very dark red. Too dark to be natural. Was this his first injury since the curse? Probably. Maybe. He couldn’t remember, but he had no other explanation. What was the orb doing to him? If it was altering his blood, what else was it changing? Would he start feeling ill a year from now and discover he was in kidney failure?

The bleeding slowed, then stopped. Gale put a bandaid over both punctures and returned to his bed. Tara hadn’t returned, presumably still on her hunt. He yawned and curled up under the covers. Maybe he should see a doctor, no matter what Mystra said. Despite his troubling thoughts, his sleep remained dreamless the rest of the night.

Continue reading on AO3!

#baldur's gate 3 #Astarion #Gale of Waterdeep #Bloodweave #BG3 #my drabbles

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galeorderbride · 10 days

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Weave Wielder - Ch. 9

Summary:

As Evie and Gale move on from the melancholy of the Mountain Pass, an elder Archmage, the most famous in all the realms, pays them a visit. With Elminster's message, Evie and Gale's growing love for each other becomes threatened by the promise of Mystra.

CW for kind of intense arguing (nothing aggressive, just lots of heavy feelings).

18+ MDNI (No smut this chapter)

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #bg3 fanfic #gale x tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #gale x oc #gale fanfic #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction

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thesongthesoulsings · 3 months

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Masterlist

Hogwarts Legacy

Aesop Sharp

Ex Nihilo Nihil Fit - | Part 1 | - | Part 2 |

Promised Legacy

Egyptian Coffee

Bloodstained Silk

{Sharpuary Drabbles] - |1|-|2|-|3|-|4|-|5|-|6|-|7|-|8|-|9|-|10|-|11|-|12|

Baldur´s Gate 3

Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep

Audio

Gale´s Poem for Athena

Song of Solomon 6:3

Song of Solomon 3:4

Song of Solomon 8:7

Gale´s Poem for Athena´s Pregnancy

Poem written by @sorceresssundries in audio format

Poem "Tiefling Party" written by @sorceresssundries in audio format

Drawings

Watermelon Crushing Comic (Part 1)

Gale Holding Half-Exposed Athena

Thigh Kiss

Gale was missed

Giving a hand

Don´t Die On Me

What Were You Doing?

Athena Dekarios Portrait

Gale´s Poem Collection

Gale´s Poem for Athena

Clarified Enigma

Fanfiction

Blue Thistles & White Lilies

Of Discoveries and Worries

Devotion

Pictures

Gale "Physical" Love Scene

Perfected Astral Love Scene

Astral Love Scene

Boat Scene

Godhood

Athena & Gale

Athena & Gale Bathing

"Doing It" In Front of Mystra´s Statue

Gale is not amused

Waterdeep News Reports On Gale´s Wedding

Videos

Last Kiss & Hug

Last Kiss & Waist Grab

Astral Love Scene Recording

Tribute to Gale & Athena

The Seikilos Epitaph

Lae´zel is jealous of Gale

Harry Potter

Severus Snape & Hermione Granger

Glimpse of Us - | Ch. 1 | - | Ch. 2 | - | Ch. 3 |

Of Progress and Pursuit

Not Merely Passable

Theology of Beauty and the Observations of Trees

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mumms-the-word · 2 months

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A Macabre Masquerade - Ch. 2

Ch. 2 - Getting Ready

Characters: Tavs (multiple), Gale, Astarion, Karlach, Wyll, Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Halsin, Minthara + other OCs Plot: One year after defeating the Netherbrain and saving the city, Dani and Gale receive a mysterious invitation to a masquerade ball. The invitation specifically invites them to participate as the Heroes of Baldur's Gate. However, when they get there, they soon realize they aren't the only Heroes of Baldur's Gate that got invited. A/N: Designing outfits for Dani and Gale ended up being so hard for me, but I can't wait to show off some descriptions of other Tavs/Durges/Companions when they get to the party. Should I post my inspiration pics? Maybe~

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | BG3 Masterlist | AO3

Dani was just putting the final touches of her outfit together, sliding a few gold filigree rings onto her horns until they fit snuggly, when she saw Gale step into view in the reflection of her full-length mirror. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and pressed a kiss to her cheek before resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Nearly ready, my love?” he asked.

“I think so.” She glanced over her reflection quickly in the mirror before turning and bringing Gale to stand side by side with her, her arm linked in his. “What do you think? Are we fit to be seen by high society?”

He tilted his head, studying their reflections, and she in turn gave them both another lingering once-over. She was dressed in an elegant sleeveless midnight gown embroidered with golden swirls along the bodice and a pattern of gold embroidered feathers twisting and curling upward from the hem of her skirt. She felt sexy with her low plunging neckline, nearly to her navel, showing a tantalizing hint of the curve of her breasts. Her back was mostly bared as well, though she had draped a silky gold wrap around her shoulders in anticipation of the night chill. The blue fabric of the dress was soft and draped easily from her hips, weighed down by the elaborate embroidery. It was easily the fanciest and most expensive dress she owned, even having spent the last year filling her closet with finery to wear to dinners with patriars and celebrations for newly restored buildings in the city. She felt almost overdressed, like she were playing pretend with a costume on a stage.

But then again, it was a masquerade. Everyone would be dressing up and pretending to be someone else for a bit.

Gale, in comparison, looked more than at home in his well-tailored attire, consisting of a dark high-necked shirt buttoned all the way up, an open midnight brocade coat that fell halfway down his calves, and dark trousers to match. Warm golden embroidery shimmered along the edges of his coat and around the buttons of his purple waistcoat, and he had added a sash that crossed from shoulder to hip and around his waist in the same purple shade. He’d tied back sections of his hair into a little bun at the back, fastened with a bit of purple ribbon, the tails trailing down, and he’d swapped his silver earring of Mystra’s eight-pointed star for a gold feather charm that matched all of Dani’s gold jewelry for the night. Dani wore the other feather earring as one of her many earrings. He looked like a prince in a fairy book, especially when his expression shifted to one filled with love as he gazed at her in the mirror.

“You certainly do,” he said in response to her question, turning to kiss her cheek again. “You look absolutely stunning.”

She pursed her lips at her reflection, reaching up to pull some of her two-toned hair over her shoulder. She’d styled her hair a little differently, going with a high ponytail that left her waving, slightly curling locks cascading down her back, but kept her usual fringe pieces to frame her face, freshly dyed a pale, icy blue. She did feel beautiful, but she couldn’t shake the silly notion that she’d blink and it would all disappear.

She knew that it wouldn’t, of course. She was there when they tried on these outfits in Figaro’s elegant shop and she remembered watching Gale hand over a hefty bag of coin to pay for them. She was there when they’d trusted the custom tailoring to her mother, as the dress needed altering to accommodate Dani’s tail and Gale wanted the jacket a bit more fitted (plus it gave them an excuse to visit her mother). So there was no denying the dress on her body was more than a figment of her imagination. It was just taking some getting used to.

“You do know how to go all out, dressing for a fancy patriar party,” Dani said, smoothing her hands down her skirt. “This is fancier than my wedding dress.”

“You don’t dislike it, do you?” Gale asked, pulling back to look at her, expression suddenly concerned. “You should have said—“

“No! No, I love it. Hells, I look like a princess.” She fidgeted with her wrap, not being used to it. She didn’t like it covering her shoulders but she felt matronly with it limply draped around her arms. She was half tempted to just toss it to the side or tie it in a sash around her waist. “Is this how people dress all the time in Waterdeep? City of Splendours and all that?”

“Only if you’re of a particularly fortunate class,” Gale said. “Though among wizards it’s not unusual to see someone charm their outfit or cast a lingering illusion to make their shabby robes look better than they are. The Blackstaff Ball could be positively insufferable with apprentices and alumni trying to outshine one another with elaborate illusions.”

“Oh?” Dani grinned and tilted her head. “That sounds fun. Would we have passed muster at a Blackstaff Ball?”

“As we are now? Absolutely. But there’s nothing wrong with adding a bit of sparkle to an already stunning visage, is there?” He chuckled, but his eyes drifted back toward the mirror, lingering on both of them. He looked almost…wistful. His mind a thousand miles away.

Dani felt a pang of guilt, all too familiar. For an entire year she and Gale had lived in Baldur’s Gate, working to rebuild the city out of all the destruction the Netherbrain and a hoard of mind flayers and dragons had caused. She was fiercely proud of their work, especially Gale’s role in navigating the reconstruction efforts. He'd been indispensable. His verbosity, charm, and intelligence were essential to all the schmoozing, wheeling, and dealing they’d had to do with patriars, the upper ranks of the Flaming Fist, guild masters, and even civilians themselves. But every now and again, like now, a tiny bit of doubt and guilt would worm its way into her head, chiding her for stealing Gale away from the city that was his home. Even as he settled comfortably in Baldur’s Gate and spoke of establishing a small wizarding school or they spoke excitedly of their next book idea, she couldn’t completely ignore her doubts.

Baldur’s Gate was her home. It was the city that made her. But Waterdeep was his, and it was the city that made him. Yes, he had been the one to suggest he move to Baldur’s Gate when he proposed, but…had she been too selfish, asking him to stay with her?

She pushed the doubts aside for now. If she let herself linger on them too long, she would convince herself that she wasn’t worthy of him. That she wasn’t worthy of anyone, really. And she couldn’t let herself go down that slippery slope just yet. She wanted to be selfish just a tiny bit longer.

She turned and looped her arms around his neck, kissing just at the corner of his mouth, a sweet hint to wake him from his reveries. “Then why not add a bit of extra sparkle, just for us?” she asked, hoping to cheer him up. “A bit of dazzle. A touch of magic.”

He smiled and wrapped an arm around her, turning his head to kiss her properly. “You don’t need any extra sparkle, my love,” he said. “Not when you’re already perfect.”

She giggled and shook her head. “You and your words. We both know I’m not perfect. So go on, then. Indulge me.” She stepped out of his embrace and did a little spin. “Make me look as beautiful as I might appear at a Blackstaff Ball.”

“You already look more beautiful than most at a Blackstaff Ball,” he said, but he put a hand to his chin, clearly thinking through possibilities. She smiled and waited, curious to see what he might come up with. Sure enough, after a second’s thought, his eyes lit up as he landed on an idea.

“Hold still,” he said. He held up a hand, palm toward her, and murmured an incantation.

She didn’t catch the words he whispered, but she felt the pull of magic. She’d become far more attuned to it after living with Gale for a year, though she still preferred to cast her spells via music. She closed her eyes, feeling the threads of magic shift around her until the spell seemed complete. When she opened her eyes again, turning toward the mirror, she gasped with delight.

Gale had turned her wrap from a drape of gold silk to a cascade of gold feathers, glimmering with metallic beauty. She ran her hand down the feathers and found them soft and flexible, but not downy like real bird feathers. An artist’s rendition, a craftsman’s interpretation of feathers, sculpted in flattened gold. They shifted easily as she adjusted the wrap over her shoulders and held out her arms, admiring how it made her look like she had wings.

“You do know how to impress a girl, darling,” she said, grinning and taking his face in her hands for a big kiss. “Now I really feel like a princess in a fairy story. How long until my little spell lasts? Until midnight? Am I expected to scurry home before I start molting golden feathers?”

He chuckled again, looping his arms comfortably around her waist. “No scurrying necessary. Your feathers will last a full twenty-hours. I should hate to embarrass you by letting the illusion fall too early.”

“You’re the best,” she said, kissing him again. “But what about you? Don’t you need a bit of dazzle?”

“Why should I, when I will have you on my arm, my love?”

“Oh stop it,” she laughed, pushing playfully at his shoulder. “You can think of something, surely.”

“Well…I did have one or two ideas,” he admitted, giving her an all-too-familiar grin that was both sheepish and smug.

“Well, go on then. Show off for me and then let’s get going.” She stepped back to give him room and gestured for him to get on with it.

He shook his head slightly, amused, but then passed a hand over his clothes. He murmured another spell and she watched as the embroidery of his brocade coat, the slightly bluer threads that made up a bland repeating floral pattern against the darker blue of the fabric, shifted and re-threaded into a new pattern. When the spell was complete, the fabric of his coat had gone from a standard floral brocade to a pattern of embroidered feathers, faintly blue against a midnight-dark background. As she watched, the feathers seemed to shift and glimmer faintly, as if moved by a faint puff of air. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable unless you happened to let your gaze linger, but the overall effect was enchanting.

“There,” he said, turning to glance in the mirror. He gave his reflection a self-satisfied nod. “Now we match. Birds of a feather and all that.”

“I love it,” Dani said, wrapping her arms around his arm and resting her chin on his shoulder. “We’ll be the envy of the entire masquerade.”

“Speaking of, we’ll be late if we don’t hurry.”

“Late? We’re the heroes of Baldur’s Gate. The party doesn’t start until we arrive.”

“I’ll leave you to tell that to the doorman or whoever bars us from entry when we arrive after the appointed time, my love. You always were the more charming of the two of us.”

He adjusted her hold on his arm so that he was escorting her properly, her hands nestled in the crook of his elbow. As she straightened up and met his warm brown eyes, she found him gazing fondly, lovingly, his smile gentle. Despite his warning about the time, his eyes never moved from her face, slowly taking in every detail of her appearance. Her hair, her earrings, the decorations on her horns, her makeup, all of it.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured. “Like a dream.”

She ought to be used to his words, but something about the way his gaze lingered, the tenderness in his expression, it made her flush as though this were the first time he’d ever said such things. She was at a loss for words, wanting to say the same back but thinking that it might trivialize the moment if she did.

At her silence, he leaned in for a slow, sweet kiss. She let her eyelids flutter closed, melting into the kiss, until at last he pulled away with a soft-spoken, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered.

“Ready?”

She took a deep breath and nodded, giving his arm a little squeeze. Her heart fluttered with sudden excitement. A masked ball! And they looked gorgeous. It really did feel like a dream.

“Ready.”

#bg3 #my fic #oc #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #dani #meridan zavrai #gale #gale dekarios

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galedekarios · 5 months

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gale, elminster & mystra: new infos from the epilogue and how they tie in with what we know from the base game

so i was mulling over bits and pieces of new information we got from the epilogue, connecting it to the stuff we already knew:

1. gale's story of how mystra came into his life in the full release

gale jumping from from "i'm what one might call a wizard prodigy, who from an early age could not only control the weave, but compose it" to "such was my skill that it earned me the attention of the mother of magic herself" to then the teacher, muse and lover dynamic.

and from early access:

Player: What did Mystra’s attention feel like? Gale: Love. Player: He sounds like a very talented individual Gale: He was. Even though it was in Mystra’s affections that his true power lay. Player: Teacher’s pet, was he? Gale: He fancied himself much more than that. He fancied himself favoured above all others. Perhaps it was not quite love, but you see, the wizard was but a very young man. It was most certainly love to him. Mystra showed him the secrets behind the veils. The gossamer veils first, draped across the Weave. The delicate veils next, draped across her body. ‘Chosen One’ she whispered, as she slipped them off completely.

2. elminster's new letter from the epilogue

we knew before that elminster must have come into his life early-ish as well from this convo:

"While most know Elminster the legend, few know him as you have. He plucked you from obscurity. Offered you his guidance. His faith."

we also know that gale got to attend blackstaff academy.

now, with the new letters from the epilogue, we know that elminster met him at eight years old:

elminster coming into his when gale was just "eight summers old", gale's talents being as they were from "an early age", mystra involving herself in his life.

perhaps those two events happening are connected: the chosen of mystra. plucking him from obscurity. taking him under his wing.

perhaps on the guidance of someone? someone very clever? someone who'd later use said mentor to also deliver a message that needed to be conveyed with the utmost severity of her bidding?

someone who'd involve herself in gale's life, too? someone who needs his ambitions to be laid to rest because of a future she glimpsed at?

3. raphael's new epilogue lines if gale fails his ascension:

Raphael: I owe you a debt of gratitude. You were the spark of ambition that rekindled Gale's ambitions, after Mystra had so cleverly put them to rest.

i'm thinking thoughts not only about "cleverly", implying some sort of scheming here or manipulation.

a goddess involving her chosen, to oversee a child, so full of promise and ambition -

(a relationship forming between elminster and gale, which even by the point we see them interact in the game, speaks of the care and love they hold for each other) -

before she too involves herself: becomes his mentor, teacher, and he becomes her chosen.

making gale her chosen as a form of control, so he perhaps would not oppose her, like, for instance, even elminster is hardly capable of.

but not only did she make him her chosen, in the same breath, she made him her lover.

we know she very much is capable of using her chosen for her needs.

raphael is also very directly saying that gale's "ambition" reawakened after meeting the protag. so we are talking about mystra putting them to rest before gale met the protag, so the comment couldn't possibly be about his character arc during the game.

i already touched on this a bit earlier but:

4. we also know that mystra has foresight, being able to predict the future to some sort of degree:

History of the Chosen of Mystra: The reason why Mystra, the Goddess of Magic, invested a portion of her divine might into mortals is not known. One of the popular theories, and one that is gaining more support in light of the other goddess' during that period, is that Mystra foresaw the Time of Troubles (and her own passing at the hands of Helm) and chose to give some of her powers to mortals in order to ensure that her successor (the female mage, Midnight, as it turned out) would have a number of nearly immortal allies in the struggle against the schemes of the gods (the now dead Bane, Myrkul and Bhaal) who precipitated the Time of Troubles by stealing the Tablets of Fate.

(again, i want to reiterate that larian doesn't keep close to the dnd timeline at times, and has quite a few lore mistakes and even breaks. i know mystra was 'dead' around the time gale would have been that young. take it up with larian, please. i'm only trying to extrapolate from the things we are told in the game and the narrative in it.)

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #elminster aumar #mystra #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 meta #ch: gale dekarios #ch: elminster aumar #ch: mystra #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #meta: mybg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 patch 5 spoilers #grooming cw

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ollypopwrites · 2 months

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Ch. 4 Damage Gets Done

Words: 4.8k

Pairing: Gale x Named Female Tav

Rating: M (I personally think it's a T but just to be safe lol)

Summary:

Warnings: language, misunderstandings/miscommunication (I know I hate it too, just stick with me), jealousy, mentions of Mystra and how creepy she is, thoughts of death and dying (cuz its Gale).

Notes: It's time to yearn, boys.

You can also Read on Ao3!

Since the time she had learned how, Isra occasionally liked to wildshape to sleep. If her bed was some particularly uncomfortable ground, being a small animal provided a way of burrowing around and finding comfort. Or if she was cold, she could transform into something with fur and be mostly unbothered by the chill for a while as she slept. It had been such a night the first time she encountered Gale by the campfire, half expecting him to realize it was her immediately. Maybe it was the wine she could smell on his breath that night, but he did not catch on.

And when he first petted her, the intoxication of touch from him, despite her wildshaped form, overwhelmed her.

If she was honest she could not remember the last time she had been given such gentle affections, and her body ached for more. And he seemed pleased to have a friend, something she could not provide the same way after showing him her feelings for him in the Weave. He had pushed her away and though it hurt, she had allowed him his space. Gale had courted a goddess and how could she or any mortal ever compare? He was always talking of her, or creating simulacrums of her visage, and constantly channeling the weave of which Mystra intrinsically was made of.

Both Selune and Eilistraee had been as dear to her as such far removed entities could be since she had emerged from the Underdark with her parents. That first night topside as a little girl, when she looked up and saw the beautiful silver orb of light, she had been moved to tears. It followed her and guided her as she traveled, and she had felt the presence of the deity gentle and comforting — what would it feel like to be scooped up and held in either of their embraces? She could hardly fathom the idea of it.

Gale and Mystra’s was a strange dynamic, one that made Isra’s stomach turn. But as she had told Shadowheart, whose Goddess was diametrically opposed to her own, Isra never found it to be her place to speak on someone else’s faith. She was no crusader or missionary, she was just a girl who loved the moon. Who was she to impede on the love affair of a mortal man and his goddess?

Despite it being sneaky and a bit dishonest, she thought the guise of ‘Vesper,’ as he called her cat form, was a decent compromise. Selfishly, she got to steal time with him, and although it created an entirely self-inflicted new form of pining, he got the gift of ignorance of her pain and a friend.

If anything, she should have known her luck was running out the day they took on the goblin outpost and freed Halsin. She had kept track of time, taking into account her exhaustion from the fight earlier in the day and left Gale’s side before her spell would have given out. Even better, he had been sleeping when she left.

As she exited his tent, however, she forgot to take into account the nightly watch. So distracted by her own thoughts of Gale and trying to remember exactly how it felt to be held by him, to carry the feeling with her to her bedroll — she dropped the wildshape spell halfway to her tent.

“You’ve got to be joking.”

It was Shadowheart. By the fire for her watch, with an eyebrow raised, lips perked up into a teasing smile and laughter dancing behind her eyes. Isra froze before immediately hiding her face behind her hands.

“Fucking hells, I’m an idiot.”

“Yes,” Shadowheart joked back, her voice at least quiet.

“Please — just — gods, don’t tell anyone.”

“I thought he had finally lost it,” Shadowheart said, “talking about a mysterious house cat no one has ever seen before.”

Isra was panicking, kicking herself; the whole thing was stupid to begin with and she had to be dumb enough to get caught on top of it.

“Your secret is safe with me,” Shadowheart assured her. “Consider us even for the nautiloid.”

“I hardly think saving your life is equal to -“

“Oh, shall I tell him then?”

“No!” Isra hissed. “No. Fine. Even. That’s it. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Vesper.”

Yet, this close call was not enough to make her give up being close to him. Isra had hoped to keep it going until they went to the Underdark where she could simply stop and he could believe his new feline friend was safe somewhere on the top ground. She knew she was selfish, but she promised herself that she would stop before the real damage was done.

However, she lost track of time. She used to be able to take any animal form for an entire night but with the tadpole she seemed to be starting all over. Two hours was what she could manage now.

And now she was here, in his tent, halfway in his lap with her secret out in the open to the one person she dreaded finding out.

“Fuck.”

Gale’s expression was hard to decipher but it was not a happy one and she wanted to flee. He was grimacing, eyes tightened so the vague crows feet at the corners were more pronounced than usual. He had said her name with such a sharp intensity that made her stomach drop.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I’m so sorry Gale, I - “ I wanted to be close to you, I wanted to hear your dumb hums of interest as you read something interesting, I wanted, I wanted, I wanted. She felt tears pricking her eyes, half mortification and half overwhelming guilt. “I should go.”

“I believe that would be best,” he replied and then grunted, as if physically pained.

Isra turned tail and ran, not caring if anyone saw her leave his tent.

Luckily, there was little time for personal concerns the next day, given that they were moving into a new territory. Everyone did their part as they moved camp as a whole and headed to the Underdark, scouted out a good spot to call home base for the time being and settled in.

The Underdark was just how she remembered it. Damp, gloomy, and although not without its own beauty, a generally dreary place. She immediately missed the big open sky with her beloved moon, and fresh air of the forest. Few of them had journeyed down below the surface before, so she took her time to remind everyone of the basic rules of the Underdark. She provided them all jugs, telling them that if they came across fresh water to bottle as much as possible. She warned them not to get separated, to keep a keen eye out for creatures in dark spaces and most importantly to watch their step. A tumble there would prove fatal.

Astarion kept looking at the stone ceiling, and she lamented with him the loss of the sky. Karlach was eager to get moving, just to get out of there quicker. The others seemed fine, Wyll’s spirits were not weakened, Shadowheart found the place fascinating (despite their entrance via a Selunite stronghold), Lae’zel wondered aloud what strange beasts she could decapitate and mount, all while Gale seemed quietly studious. Halsin had joined them as well, and he was adamant this route was safer than the mountain pass. She was willing to brave it, the Underdark was treacherous but it had once been her home. She knew she could lead them through it.

Isra had chosen to not bring Gale along for the first few ventures further into the dark, opting to give him his space after they had been explicitly avoiding each other. Shadowheart, Karlach and Astarion had been her team, who all had their obvious advantages in the dark spaces. After assisting a lovely myconid colony with some invasive duergar and gathering some information about Absolute cultists deeper in the Underdark, they decided to visit a mysterious abandoned wizard’s tower.

It was supposedly the place to find some materials needed by a friendly refugee mind flayer in order to do some research on their unusual tadpoles. When she discussed her plan and her party, no one seemed to protest (besides Lae’zel who reminded her a ghaik had gotten them into this mess in the first place) and they planned to head out after another night of rest. At camp, she settled in to work on some alchemy with the new extractions she had made of some of the plentiful mushrooms of the Underdark.

Every once in a while she glanced up around the camp, everyone was getting along, although most of them had taken to whispering as if something was on the verge of finding them and leaping out of the shadows. Karlach’s gleeful laughter broke the spell at something Astarion said, echoing off the walls and it made Isra smile. She caught the eyes of Gale who was watching her and she immediately looked away from him and back to her task.

It had been days since her secret was exposed, days of pushing the thought out of her head, avoiding him beyond what was polite and he had done the same. Circe slithered up her back, coiling around her shoulders and resting her head down, offering a welcome distraction as she continued her work. They chatted about the day, Circe casually mentioning that she seemed to be avoiding the resident wizard.

Isra was grateful no one else could understand the snake as she brushed off the comments. So caught up in her task of extracting essences and not allowing Circe to extract any information from her, she did not hear the footsteps approaching her.

“Do you have a moment?”

Gale had gotten little sleep the night of the revelation. The orb ached in his chest, and the absence of Vesper now that her true identity was revealed felt like a heavier loss. She was clearly mortified, he was certain she was near bursting to tears when she realized she was found out and he wanted to go tell her not to worry herself. He wanted to offer comfort, to assure her he found it rather sweet, but the ever present pain he felt was a reminder why he couldn’t.

It did not help that now she was outright avoiding him. Better in the grand scheme of things, he had reminded himself, trying hard to grasp onto the logic of it. He was trying not to lead her down a path of agony for them both. But he could not deny that he missed her.

It was silly, since she was always there just across camp. Isra, however, would not even look at him and just as she had allowed him to take his space there was little he could do but allow her to run off.

It was hard enough before but this was a special form of self-flagellation. He had borne it all with a polite smile, until she had passed him over for Astarion of all people to join her on a journey to a very intriguing wizards tower. If being denied the chance to see such a place was not enough, Astarion’s new place at her side was. He was flirty by nature, and handsome was an understatement when describing him; he was also conniving and (quite literally) blood thirsty. He knew the vampire had propositioned her at the tiefling party, and he also knew that Isra was regularly feeding him her own blood.

Jealousy was now rearing its very ugly head, and despite reminding himself he was certainly not in any position to be jealous, he knew the feeling well. The Gods were not an entirely monogamous group, as it were. He felt as he had when Mystra told him of other lovers; helpless and very, very human.

But the last straw seemed to be the fact Isra had not even considered him to join on this journey. He told himself that the only reason he was breaking the unspoken barrier between them was because he had to see that tower. So he marched over to where she was idly chatting to the snake on her shoulders, crushing up mushrooms in her mortar.

“Do you have a moment?” When she looked up at him, her eyes widened, with panic or shock, he was not sure.

“Yes,” she said cautiously, then turned her attention back to her task.

Silence rang between them, filled only by everyone else doing their own tasks and the scrape of the pestle on the stone. Irritation flared in him.

“Apologies, I meant to ask; may I speak with you privately?” His tone was polite, forced, but polite nonetheless. He added a terse, “please,” for good measure.

“Ah, sorry, yes,” she set her mortar and pestle down, a gentle word to Circe had the snake sliding down her arm to curl around the tools.

He had already turned away, walking some distance towards camp to a nightlight frond within visual distance of the camp but not close enough to be overheard. Isra followed him, chewing on her bottom lip until he worried it might catch on her sharp canines. She met his eyes resolutely, chin tilted up to do so and face set into a neutral expression.

“I understand that you have taken on a position of leadership in our merry little band,” he began, “a position well earned, I might add, but I would advise you to take into consideration the strengths of everyone before organizing your outing parties.”

Her lips parted, eyes widened in shock, and then she frowned, “I’m sorry, is this a random lecture or do you intend to say what you really mean, Gale?”

“What I mean is,” he said, slowly to counteract the flaring irritation at her retort, “Shadowheart’s healing abilities are an invaluable asset down here, as is Karlach’s brute strength, but Astarion has no place poking around an abandoned wizard’s tower.”

“Astarion is incredibly good in the shadows,” Isra shot back, “look around, Gale, the entire place is shadows.”

“A valid point,” he conceded, “and yet, not every situation requires his brand of finesse.”

“So who shall I take instead?” Her tone was sharp, “since you’re so obviously bothered by your lack of input on the matter.”

“You are much cleverer than this Isra,” he said, in the back of his mind he knew he was being condescending and not making a good case for his own inclusion in the party. His ire, however, was taking the reins. “But if you insist on playing the fool: who amongst our party is, in fact, a wizard? Not only a wizard, but Mystra’s former chosen and learned under her tutelage and that of one of the greatest wizards in the realms?”

“Oh, were you Mystra’s chosen? You’re so humble for never mentioning it before,” Isra rolled her eyes.

He ignored the sarcasm, forcing instead more brightness with his factuality. He would not take the bait. “I did indeed,” he said. “A wizard’s tower is a labyrinth of curiosities that we protect fiercely, it is a sanctuary of our own making — of all our group, I am best suited for any challenges that may face us there.” He folded his hands in front of him, pleased with his speech, “and I believe you understand that the goal of learning more about these Illithid stowaways in order to eventually evict them, is more important than whatever personal challenges there may be between us.”

The sardonic expression on her face quickly shifted to something softer and much sadder. “I —“ she started but then seemed to deflate before him. She took a deep breath, and gathered herself, once again the fearless leader he had seen day in and out for the past months. Aloof, and stoic. “You’re right. I apologize. We leave tomorrow immediately after everyone has gotten enough rest, make sure you have what you need.”

Normally Gale loved hearing someone admit he was right. This time it felt empty. “I am at your disposal,” he replied, his own tone of insincere and overt brightness making him cringe internally.

Isra looked like she might say something else, but then reconsidered and asked, “is there anything else you wanted to say?”

There were a great many things he wanted to say to her, ranging all the way from poetry to just plain and simple declarations. “No, my case has been made.”

She smiled a little, “top of the class, as always, Gale.”

His heart ached with longing at the joke and the fond way she delivered it. He forced himself to smile back, nodded and then used the last of his willpower to walk away.

Gods above, he was in love with her.

The tower was a ways from their camp, and they had to double back towards the docks where the bodies of enemy duergar were beginning to rot. It was somewhat treacherous, they had to go one or two at a time along certain ridges and up rocky walls.

At some point they stopped to take a breather, Shadowheart and Karlach down below on an outcropping of rock while Gale and Isra were above on the cliffside. Shadowheart’s heavy armor was weighing her down, she needed a breather before taking on more rock climbing and while all four of them sticking as close as possible was best, pairs were acceptable to Isra for a short rest.

“Bread?” He offered her and she declined politely. “Isra, it’ll be hours before we head back to camp and breakfast was well before we even started this trek up the side of what seems to be eternally extending stone wall,” he said, exasperated. “Have some bread.”

He half expected her to make a comment about his lecturing, she normally did, or at the very least to roll her eyes at him. But she did neither. She took the bread, took a bite and then went back to staring at a very old, very detailed map of the Underdark.

Disappointed by the lack of reaction, he hummed slightly. His next choice of words could break the wall of ice between them, or it could make it worse. Making casual conversation had not yet worked, and despite knowing that the distance between them was best he couldn’t help himself.

“Do you often take the form of a cat at night?”

The way her eyes stopped flitting about the page gave away her shock at the question, her posture did not change much and in the lowlight it was hard to tell but he thought she may be turning that lovely magenta color. Her eyes closed tight as she scrunched up her face in a cringe.

“Gale, I truly am sorry,” she said. “I’ve tried to give you your space after… after… well — you know. And then I let it get in the way of —“

“It was not meant as a slight,” Gale interrupted. “Only curiosity.”

Isra seemed unsure, she licked her lips and then nibbled slightly on the bottom one (he would do damn near anything to have the privilege to do the same). She pursed her lips slightly until she spoke again.

“Sometimes.” Was all she said.

Brain momentarily befuddled thinking about her lips, he frowned, “pardon?”

“Sometimes,” she repeated, seeming like she was forcing herself to speak. “I take to wildshaping to sleep.”

Ah, yes he had asked her a question. Coming back to himself, chest aching vaguely with his renewed interest and proximity to her, Gale rubbed the mark of the orb and forced himself to meet her eyes.

“Do you find it more comfortable?”

Isra chewed on some bread, buying herself time before she responded. “If the ground is particularly uncomfortable, yes.”

“Are there varying levels of comfort while sleeping on the ground?”

“As someone who has slept on the ground most of their life: yes,” she said.

Gale wanted to whisk her away to his tower, where she could leisure away her days (in cat form or otherwise) on his bed. In fact, thinking about his bed made him pine for it deeply, his fireplace, his favorite chair, and his extensive library.

“I’ll have to take your word for it.”

There was a silence, not tense like before but companionable, and contemplative. Isra broke it when she added, “if it’s cold I like to transform into something with fur, helps keep it at bay.”

“We ought to get you a coat, or at the very least a better blanket,” he frowned slightly.

“Coats are expensive,” she told him, with a shrug.

“But you hunt, surely,” he said, “couldn’t you make something with fur?”

“Never took to sewing and tanning,” she shrugged. “Usually I sell whatever pelts I get my hands on.”

Gale made a mental note to find a nice blanket for her next time they came across a trader. Nothing long forgotten and repurposed like clothes she wore now, or scrounged together from scraps of their enemies belongings like her tent back at camp — something new and just for her. He could tell her not to worry herself anymore about the Vesper situation, he could further mend this break between them. But it was comfortable again and comfortable conversation was all he could afford.

They chatted a bit on the way to the tower, until the building was in sight. It was magnificent, even in its deteriorating state. A large looming beacon of civilization amongst a sea of barren rock and caverns. They navigated all the way through, down into the garden — picking through personal diaries, book collections and forgotten belongings. The Sussur tree flowers made Gale wildly uncomfortable, and he noticed both Shadowheart and Isra were fascinated and befuddled by it but he found it quite clever that it powered the lift which brought them to each floor.

Isra had pocketed a book, The Roads to Darkness, that had obviously been well loved by the wizard who created the tower. They found the spores they were hunting and the rest was pure curiosity. At the top floor he saw Isra freeze in place, befuddled by what she was seeing. Several magical automatons populated what was once a workshop, most of them were in disrepair and clunking about loudly.

“Fascinating work,” Gale admired, “still running after all this time.”

He half expected them to attack. However, when Isra approached the largest, most intricate one, it did not raise a metal finger.

“New sounds through damp and dark oppression break,” it said, “is it the foe, that foul contemptuous heel?”

Isra’s brow furrowed, and she seemed to be figuring some unknown puzzle. “The book!” She whispered and dug in her bag to pull out the book. “‘Or art thou friend, a rescue from my lonely wake?”

“Come out of love for me, not love for blood and steel. Command as you see fit, my lord, my liege,” it said in its strange tinny voice and gave a small bow.

“Good manners for a hunk of metal,” Karlach commented.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Gale began, “I love poetry as much as the next wizard, but using it to command an automaton…seems a bit self-indulgent to me.”

“One of the letters, I think she said something about being holed up with only… Bernard.” Shadowheart frowned. “This must be him. It. Whatever.”

“‘The silence stretches on -’” Isra said ignoring her companions and reading from the book, “‘Please, can I hold your hands, for just a while?’”

“Of course, my love. Don’t be afraid, sweet girl.” The machine’s tone echoed, its unnatural movement and lifeless eyes mismatching the sweet words. “What can I do? Say, would you like a hug?”

Gale was aghast, as Isra agreed. The strangeness of the moment made it tense, as the unfeeling thing encouraged her into its large arms with stuttering movements. An empty charade of an intimate moment with Isra in a cage of mechanical limbs. It was meant for someone shorter than her, smaller in general.

“Remember: you are loved, Lenore,” it whispered in the imitation of a lover. “So much. You’re doing great. And everyone will be so proud of you. As I already am.”

After Bernard released her, he went about his pointless patrol of the top floor, gears whirring with each jolting step. The other constructs let them mill about the top floor and they stopped to gather their wits before heading back towards camp. Isra and Karlach sat on the ground, perched on the edge of where a fallen wall gave a view of the rocky terrain below. Shadowheart was praying, as she often did in any given downtime, and so Gale left her be and sat with the others.

“How’d you know what to say?” Karlach asked her.

Isra procured the book from her pack and showed it to Karlach, the very page with the verse she had exchanged with Bernard. “He started speaking and it was so familiar.”

“Huh, clever,” Karlach replied, then turned Gale, “watch out or she may take your job as the brains of the operation.”

“A worthy opponent she may be but I think my particular niche of knowledge will maintain my long standing position,” he said confidently.

“Think he just called you dumb, mate,” Karlach teased.

“I do have my moments,” Isra replied with mirth. “I'm sure we all remember the acid vial I mistook for a Health potion.”

“Astarion’s hair is still ruined in that same spot,” Karlach cackled along with both of them. “Strange thing, though. The old bag of bolts was made for what? A snuggle?”

“I’m certain they have security protocols,” Gale replied, “but the last thing I expected it to do was hug you, Isra.”

She was quiet for a moment. “She lost her dog, lost her lover — and after finding out she tried to tame a bulette into a house pet… Bernard doesn’t seem so far-fetched.” Isra frowned, “the things he said. How lonely must she have been.”

“Are all wizard towers lonely?” Karlach asked.

“It certainly isn’t a prerequisite for wizard towers to be lonely.”

“Was yours?”

“No,” he said confidently, but he did feel he was trying to convince himself as much as Karlach when he added, “I had Tara, and my books. Hard to be lonely in that company.”

“Isn’t Tara a cat?”

“She is a tressym,” he corrected, “and never let her hear you mix that up.”

They chatted for a bit longer before heading out. Gale behind Isra who took the lead, it was a long trek back but filled with easy conversation. Eventually, as they always seemed to be, Isra and Gale were far enough ahead of the other two that their conversation could not be overheard.

“Were you lying?” Isra asked out of the blue.

“I don’t make a habit of lying,” he replied, “but I could be more precise if I knew what you were referring to.”

“About your tower,” she clarified, “not being lonely.”

“Ah.”

“I only ask because,” she paused, chewing on her lower lip again, “well I have Circe. And I can speak to her. She’s… dearer to me than I could say. But… It is lonely sometimes, even with her there. She’s not…she can’t…”

Hug.

The word travels from her tadpole to his, unwillingly, accompanied by visions of the automaton Bernard, wrapping large unfeeling arms around her. Days of traveling through woods with no other person around. Curling up at night as a cat in a hollowed out log, hiding from the rain. His own tadpole transferred images back, sitting alone by the fire while Tara ventured out to find him trinkets to consume. Hearing people down below on the streets cajoling drunkenly at the end of the night. The lights of Waterdeep’s night markets twinkling from afar, bodies like little ants mulling around. All of those people, living lives, laughing with friends, dancing with lovers — and he could have none of it. Lonely was certainly the word he would use to describe it.

They both opened their eyes as the connection faded, realizing they stopped mid step. Gale found himself at a loss for words, it felt invasive on both ends every time any of their tadpoles connected. There was no real choice of what was revealed, no choice to look away to respect the other’s privacy. However, it had bonded them all in a way that no other situation could. To feel each other's feelings, to live another’s memories in perfect view — it was intimate.

“Everything alright?” Shadowheart said as the other two caught up, stopping along with them.

“Yes,” Isra answered before Gale could. “Tadpole stuff.”

“Damn wriggling shits,” Karlach grimaced.

They ventured on. With the other two there the conversation had been brought to an end, not that he knew what to say still. The night’s of Vesper the cat at his feet made more sense than ever. He dearly wanted them back.

Notes: thank you for reading :)

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