[It really should be criminal to be as smitten as Astarion is in this moment. He hardly feels himself for how light his body is, for how much he can't stop smiling. He lifts his free hand to cup Gale's cheek, his thumb brushing that familiar coarse line of his beard. Much less coarse now thanks to Astarion's care. Just as his expression is much less burdened with worry and sadness. It's still so novel to think he could have that effect on someone who truly sees him for who he is. His equal. His wizard. His Gale.]

The poetry of your words are so perfect, every time. It is truly a gift that I found you. One I'll cherish as long as I can.

[He leans in to emphasize the point with a lingering kiss.]