mystracal: ({prestidigitation})
Gale of Waterdeep ([personal profile] mystracal) wrote 2024-04-17 08:20 am (UTC)

[He leans into that touch, a smile unfurling across him.]

Allow me, then.

[With his hand still clasped around Astarion's, he leads them to the adjacent washroom, mage hands forming before them to gather towels and fill the recessed bath with warm, welcoming water. Gathering the Weave at his fingertips, Gale gestures broadly to the room, painting an illusion strong enough to fool even the most hardy of minds. Beneath their feet, the stone floor becomes plush grass kissed by the morning dew; the ceiling shifts and expands to give way to a vast sky, the stars still visible as the first rays of the sun haven't yet breached the horizon. What bottles once sat before the mirror - potions, lotions, antitoxins, and oils - now rest atop of a nearby boulder, well within reach in case they're needed, but not so obtrusive as to ruin the image he crafts around them.

The cool air prickles at Gale's skin, and though he knows it all to be unreal, he feels goosebumps all the same. Gale Dekarios never does anything in half-measures, certainly not when he aims to impress.]

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