mystracal | 🔮 exsanguinated (with @sangwhine)

[The second shake wakes Gale, who almost immediately folds in on himself. The charm is still intact; the orb is still fed, however temporarily. It won't destabilize on account of hunger.

But there are plenty of other reasons it might. He presses his hand to his chest - the scar is still there, not a maw, not an all-consuming thing devouring the world around him. He needs to calm it; he needs to calm himself.

His awareness flits back, his eyes landing on Astarion. Gods, Astarion. He can't do this in front of him. It was a nightmare. He has to calm down.

Gale takes a breath, trying to think. The glow spills out from beneath his fingers, and he grits his teeth, groaning.]

Box, under the far table. There are- rings inside. A necklace.

[Astarion is darting across the tent before Gale even finishes. He has the box in hand in moments, flips it open only a heartbeat later, and the rings and necklace go tumbling into his hands. He presses them all against Gale's chest, over the orb, as if trying to staunch a bleeding wound.]

Come on, then. Take them. They're yours. You can't do this to me.

[Gale doesn't even take them himself, instead putting his hands over Astarion's and pressing them harder against his chest. The light glows greedily, and in an instant of weakness, their tadpoles connect: a vision of the hungering, clawing darkness flits across Gale's mind, an insatiable creature ravaging through him as it becomes him—

And then it is gone. The trinkets in Astarion's hands, so drained of magic that they can no longer maintain their own substance, crumble into dust. The light fades to a soft glow; Gale pulls in a deep breath, then two as his hands shake, clinging to Astarion's as though they were a lifeline.]

Thank you. It's... quiet, for now.

[That vision leaves Astarion shaking as well, his hands trembling over Gale's as his eyes dart from the glow of the orb to the wizard's face to the dust smeared with the sweat on his chest.

His expression is raw and terrified for a heartbeat of a moment before panic takes over.]

What in the nine hells was that?! I thought you had the damned thing under control!

[His voice pitches high with anxiety, he's freaking out.]

It is under control.

[Gale releases Astarion's hands, looking down to the sad, obliterated remains of the rings and necklace. One item used to be enough to quiet the orb; it just took several to soothe the ache, to nullify the nigh irrepressible hunger. He's been collecting in case of an emergency, pocketing the occasional magical trinket, saying he wanted to give them a try before they sold them to the nearest merchant. He'll have to start a new collection now that his is empty.

But at least he had it when he needed it.]

Darling, sweetheart, no part of that had the look of something under control. I thought you were about to level the entire Gate with your blast radius.

[His eyes lodge themselves somewhere on the ground; he manages to bring them back to Astarion as he runs a hand through his hair, dust clinging to the strands.]

I might have, had I not thought to keep a few items around, should such an occurrence arise. It remains sated under normal circumstances. I... didn't realize a nightmare would unsettle it as much as me.

[Gale, please. Astarion reaches up to brush some of that dust from Gale's hair, trying to tidy him up just a little bit.]

What were you even dreaming of? You went quiet, which is quite unlike you.

[He shakes his head, trying to remember what came before his waking, before the hunger and the darkness.]

Her - Mystra. This talk she wants to have. What she might say when she realizes I've disobeyed her. What she might do. Opening that book was enough to draw her attention and get her to speak to me for the first time in years. I assume the only reason she hasn't yet revoked the charm she granted me to sate the orb is because she still has use of me. But if she doesn't...

If she's willing to see the entire Sword Coast wiped out just to spite you for reading a book, then we've got problems beyond the damned orb.

[He cups Gale's cheek in his hand, meeting his gaze.]

We can't know what she'll say until we see her.

Right.

[Gale meets Astarion's gaze; his lip quivers, his brow tightening.]

Not that it'd have done you any good, but... you didn't run.

[Astarion blinks, like the thought only just now occurred to him that he could have tried to run. Which is odd, because escape has usually been his first recourse. But this time, Gale was more important. Gale was the first thing he thought of.

He glances away, the tips of his ears faintly pink.]

It's as you said, isn't it? It wouldn't have done any good. And I wouldn't abandon you.

I'd argue that you should have, but... I'm glad you didn't.

[Even in the soft glow from his chest, Gale can see how Astarion's ears get the slightest bit of color; his heart swells at the sight, suddenly taken by emotion. He places a hand on Astarion's cheek, mirroring that on his own.]

Astarion.

[Astarion returns his gaze, his eyes dipping momentarily as he takes in Gale's closeness, the sweat on his brow, his lips.]

Gale, dearest?

[Gale feels the words on his lips, brought there by fear and gratitude all mingled into one. What if he dies tomorrow? What if he doesn't make it through the rest of the night? That nightmare felt so real, the pain more tangible than it's been in some time—

And yet, Astarion remained. He thought it might be the end, and stayed. That means more to Gale than he can express.

But he's certainly going to try.]

I... I love you. I know it's sudden, and fast, and not at all how I expected it to go, but... I do. And I want you to know, in case the worst should come to pass.

[It certainly is sudden. Yet despite how much it startles Astarion to hear it, it isn't out of place. It feels earned, feels right. Even though it puts his heart in his throat, even though it sets his mind racing.

He doesn't break Gale's gaze as much as he might want to, but when he answers his voice is soft, nearly afraid.]

You...you are full of surprises. Gods, I've never...I've used those words so many times, on hapless fools, pretty things. They've all but lost their meaning, but when you say them, I believe it. I know it to be true.

And I feel the same. I do. I love you.

[Despite the worry knotted in his brow, Gale smiles, relieved.]

I'm not sure what terrified me more: pouring my heart out to you just now, or the thought that I might explode before I got the chance.

It's all rather terrifying. Thrilling, as well, but mostly terrifying.

[He brushes his thumb over Gale's cheek, against some of the faint traces of dirt that have fallen from his hair.]

Look at the mess you've made of yourself, though. I can't in good conscience let you go back to your rest like this.

I don't think I could sleep anymore tonight even if I wanted to. Certainly not until I've- [a beat as he figures out how to put it.] Resupplied. We'll find something in town tomorrow. We'll have to.

[He leans into Astarion's touch; the illumination from his chest has softened into a dim glow, but he still feels wound up, his neck tight.]

We are now friends with a wizard in possession of a rather impressively supplied tower. I'm sure that we can locate something.

[Astarion moves to stand, taking Gale's hand to pull him up as well.]

But until then, I happen to know of a bathhouse that specializes in discretion.

[Gale nods. Yes, they certainly do know a wizard with an impressively supplied tower now, don't they? Thank goodness they took time out of their day to deal with Lorroakan and help Rolan, or they might be might be in some trouble. Their gold pouches certainly would be.

He grabs his shirt and lets Astarion pull him up, reluctant to let go of his hand.]

I might normally decline such an invitation, but I desperately need the distraction - and your company. Lead us. I'm with you.

I'd hoped you would be.

[Astarion does need to let go of Gale long enough to help him back into his shirt, since they can't exactly go walking through the streets of Baldur's Gate in a state of complete undress. But one's that's taken care of, he's gently pulling the wizard along after him through the Lower City.

Without any threats of insurrection or murder at the top of mind, the prying eyes of the Steel Watch and the Flaming Fists are thankfully less alert on this night. It doesn't hurt that Astarion seems very familiar with the proper back streets and alleyways necessary to move quickly and quietly across the entire expanse of the city. Eventually, they find themselves nearly at the Gate's westernmost point, in front of a classical Chessentan style building, all tiles and carefully crafted mosaics, that advertises itself as The Hissing Stones.

Astarion leads them inside, slipping a few gold pieces to the clerk at the front desk in exchange for a pair of silk robes and a key. They're both directed to a changing room and instructed to leave all clothing and weapons behind in the locked chest found within. Astarion strips without a second thought, sliding comfortably into his robe before turning back to Gale.]

I trust you don't mind that I took the liberty to ask for a hot bath. I thought it might be preferable, all things considered.

[Though he has plenty of time to walk off the tension and uncertainty brought about by his harrowing nightmare, Gale still finds his mind wandering as they make their way through the streets. He's grateful they darted into the alleyways immediately, avoiding the main roads - he was sure he'd feel nauseous if they stepped anywhere near the Stormshore Tabernacle. However, it's hard to stay anxious when on a brisk trek through the Lower City in the cool air of the night.

His eyes started on the Fists and the Watch, peeled for any sign of danger, but as they journey further into the walls of Baldur's Gate, Gale finds himself... enjoying it. The way they dart from the shadows to avoid the eyes of the night patrols, the thrill that comes from a close call - there's something undeniably romantic about sneaking hand-in-hand through the streets in the early hours of the morning, well before the dawn. It feels like something out of a book, the sort of fairy tales Wyll would enjoy, though Gale never quite pictured himself having the experience.

Alone together in the bathhouse, Gale has hardly started disrobing, getting to work once he realizes Astarion is already out of his clothes. Off his shirt goes for hopefully the last time tonight.]

Absolutely preferable. Saves me the trouble - and the magic.

No more magic tonight, dearest. At least none of the arcane sort.

[It's not until this moment, when there's finally a chance to catch his breath, to take in his surroundings, that the strange deja vu of the situation strikes Astarion fully. While the Stones weren't the sort of place he frequented, like any other place in the city, they're known to him through his dalliances and hunting at the behest of Cazador. Sometimes prey would need to be loosened up before he could lure them further into the city, back to his master's lair. He rarely hunted so far afield, so the memories are hazier.

Having Gale here with him is different. There's no worry about whether or not he'll be successful before dawn touches the sky. No need to contemplate escaping into the sewers to avoid the sunlight if he overstayed his welcome. The realization strikes him as he takes in the pale skin of the wizard before him, the faint glow of the orb in his chest. Whatever unconscious desire for Gale it was that guided him here, it was at least in part driven by a need to reclaim the space, to make it his own. No longer a hunting grounds, but fertile ground for something new to grow.

A warmth suffuses through his chest at the thought, his smile softening as he waits for Gale to prepare himself. Tonight, they'll make a new memory for these walls to hold, a better one.]

[Gale slides out of the rest of his clothes, putting on his robe after his shirt so he has some modesty when removing his pants and undergarments - it's not done on purpose so much as out of habit. The room itself is inviting, the soft glow of the lights and the nearby steam leaving the area awash in a warm haze.

It's not nearly so warm as the smile on Astarion's face, though. It catches Gale's eye, and he can't help but grin in return.]

After you.

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