[Or rather, Gale has a lot of ideas of what his mother wants to talk about so unexpectedly, but no concrete evidence favoring one of those ideas over the others. Morena has involved herself thoroughly in planning their wedding: she's sent invitations to the rest of the Dekarios clan, volunteered to handle the food and catering (with only a smidge of protest from Gale, who was hoping to do that himself), and even met with a few different Waterdhavian tailors to ensure that the fabric for their wedding outfits was of the finest quality, arguing that she'd 'drop dead before her son and his beloved were dressed in anything less than the finest silks this side of Anauroch.'
In good news, she'd thought to ask said son about his suggestions for flowers a few weeks ago, and Gale had enjoyed listing some blossoms he thought would look good against Astarion's skin and hair, ones that complemented the red of his eyes. He'd then had to explain to his mother why he got so dreamy-eyed, his imagination having wandered off as he pondered the ceremony, their vows, him getting to call Astarion Mr. Astarion Dekarios genuinely for the first time.
He is so sickeningly smitten with the vampire, and he knows it. Morena knows it, Tara knows it, and no doubt the rest of his family will know it soon enough. What's more, the two of them have been more open in the private moments, experimenting, finding their boundaries in ways they hadn't before - all in all, Gale would say he's the happiest he's ever been.
And yet, there's that feeling in his gut that it won't last - that he'll overstay his welcome, cross some boundary he ought not, will do something to ruin all of this, as he's always done. He has to force that notion away, knowing it isn't true, no matter how it authentic it might feel when it grips him.
He squeezes Astarion's hand, running a thumb along his fingers; with his other hand, he waves the gate open with a flourish of magic.]
If I had to guess, I'd say she found a new dish she wants us to try, and, hoping to perfect the recipe, thus invited us over here to get an opinion on it.
no subject
[Or rather, Gale has a lot of ideas of what his mother wants to talk about so unexpectedly, but no concrete evidence favoring one of those ideas over the others. Morena has involved herself thoroughly in planning their wedding: she's sent invitations to the rest of the Dekarios clan, volunteered to handle the food and catering (with only a smidge of protest from Gale, who was hoping to do that himself), and even met with a few different Waterdhavian tailors to ensure that the fabric for their wedding outfits was of the finest quality, arguing that she'd 'drop dead before her son and his beloved were dressed in anything less than the finest silks this side of Anauroch.'
In good news, she'd thought to ask said son about his suggestions for flowers a few weeks ago, and Gale had enjoyed listing some blossoms he thought would look good against Astarion's skin and hair, ones that complemented the red of his eyes. He'd then had to explain to his mother why he got so dreamy-eyed, his imagination having wandered off as he pondered the ceremony, their vows, him getting to call Astarion Mr. Astarion Dekarios genuinely for the first time.
He is so sickeningly smitten with the vampire, and he knows it. Morena knows it, Tara knows it, and no doubt the rest of his family will know it soon enough. What's more, the two of them have been more open in the private moments, experimenting, finding their boundaries in ways they hadn't before - all in all, Gale would say he's the happiest he's ever been.
And yet, there's that feeling in his gut that it won't last - that he'll overstay his welcome, cross some boundary he ought not, will do something to ruin all of this, as he's always done. He has to force that notion away, knowing it isn't true, no matter how it authentic it might feel when it grips him.
He squeezes Astarion's hand, running a thumb along his fingers; with his other hand, he waves the gate open with a flourish of magic.]
If I had to guess, I'd say she found a new dish she wants us to try, and, hoping to perfect the recipe, thus invited us over here to get an opinion on it.