[Reveling in the coolness of Astarion's skin against him, their foreheads meeting in an affectionate gesture they've shared time and time again, Gale feels almost feverish by comparison, and he wonders briefly if this is all just a dream. If so, he'd rather not wake.

Gale weaves his fingers through Astarion's hair, his other hand having trailed from his shoulder to his side, his blunt nails having left scratches on the way down. Astarion's hands on his cheeks make him feel like a treasured gift, something worth more than anything in the world - his words reaffirm that, stirring the wizard's once-broken heart. He need not worry about that anymore.]

I'll keep your heart, and you'll keep mine. My heart will know no safer place than with you.

[Unthreading his hand from Astarion's locks, he attempts some Prestidigitation to clean up; the spell fizzles. He chuckles dryly.]

I might... need a moment. It seems I'm thoroughly exhausted, more than I thought I could be.