mystracal | 🔮 exsanguinated (with @sangwhine)

[He is enjoying himself, it's true. Oddly, it feels better than his usual seductions, the instincts he's been leaning on where he can with their party's fearless leader. But even if Gale's been a little skittish about his advances in that direction so far, drawing attention to it like this gives him a chance, doesn't it? And he could always use some more protection...]

Honestly, I'm surprised you aren't enjoying it more. I've been told that my touch can feel quite pleasurable.

I'm sure it can be, when experienced in less embarrassing and more... intimate circumstances. With the right people, of course.

[Needless to say, Mystra didn't do romantic baths.]

[Certainly not baths like this. Astarion lets his nails drag across Gale's scalp, gently massaging as he goes.]

Ah, and I thought we had a connection. That this setting was perfectly intimate.

[He's playing at being hurt, nothing serious just yet, but it all depends on how Gale reacts to it.]

[The part where he had to strip? Embarrassing. Being scrubbed and oiled and doused? He might have preferred to just stay dirty and hope his mother didn't notice. But this, where Astarion works his hair, his nails etching into his scalp? Gale will never admit to how much he's enjoying it.

But he likely doesn't have to: his head slowly leans back toward Astarion's hands - subtly, gently, and before Gale realizes it. He closes his eyes.]

It's unwise to tease someone who can level a city, you know.

[It's a subtle shift, but it's encouraging to Astarion nonetheless. He keeps up the touch, working the oil through, coaxing away the tension that he finds in Gale's brows and temples. This is something he's done hundreds of times over.]

Darling, who said I was teasing?

[The relaxation starts to ease into Gale's shoulders. It seems like he's trying to fight against it, however feebly, as though he'd rather not let his guard down - and yet, his eyes remain closed, forcing him to take it all in through sensation alone. His brow furrows just a hair, the corner of his mouth curling upward.]

You did say you were a natural-born liar, unlike me.

I did say that.

[And it's not like he's being entirely truthful with Gale at this moment, but how insightful can the wizard really be? Gale seems far too caught up in his own circumstances to interrogate what Astarion's got planned.]

But you have my word, if you would like for this to be more enticing for you, I won't tease.

[Gale of Waterdeep is still, in many ways, a broken man. He has yet to fully reconcile what happened with Mystra, heartache finding him at his worst moments; it reminds him that she's only interested in how useful he can be, whether as a prodigy, as her Chosen, or as an explosive means to an end. Maybe she's always been that way, and he was just too blinded by his devotion for her to see it; maybe his transgression against her really did cause her to lose all faith in him. He's not sure he'll ever know.

Regardless of whether or not she ever felt anything for him as he did for her, her spurning has colored his perception of what it means to truly connect to people. Their leader talked him out of obliterating himself once, but when this was all over, and they went their separate ways, who would he have? If he can't do anything for others, why would they keep him around? And if he couldn't get rid of the orb, what would happen then?

He asks himself that in the moment Astarion seems to offer him a connection, and he finds himself afraid to take it. It's flirtatious, licentious, and he's not sure entirely sincere, but it's still something Gale didn't expect, even teasingly. He laughs quietly with a sober smile, just enough of a chuckle to push the air out of him.]

It's tempting, I'll admit...

[And yet, he turns it down - not because he doesn't trust Astarion, but because he doesn't want the vampire to realize he has nothing to offer. He manages to keep his tone light, though the somber look in his eyes likely speaks volumes.]

But this is probably best saved for when I'm not going to face my mother later in the evening.

[Tempting is enough for Astarion, at least at this moment. It's a seed planted, just enough to get Gale's interest, to let it linger at the back of his mind when he's alone in his tent at night. Then he can lure the wizard in for more, he can sink his claws in deeper. Provided this meeting goes well--and it will go well--Gale will be in his debt. There will be something owed, and if Astarion plays his cards right, he can see that debt repaid in protection, in a pretty little wizard to shield him from his master's wrath and more.]

Oh, of course, darling. We can't have you going to your mother looking undone.

[He lets his hands slip to Gale's shoulders as he says this, his voice dropping lower as he leans in closer. It's a secret, shared just between the two of them.]

[The flush across his face is definitely not the water temperature anymore. He has a more genuine laugh - just one.]

Nice to know you're looking out for me, and not just on account of my hygiene. I'd hate to have more to explain to her than I already do.

Though it would prove to be quite the distraction. Prying mothers love nothing more than some delicious scandal, hm?

[He strokes against the back of Gale's neck, kneading into some of the tension he finds there. Russ all may be rote for Astarion, but he's finding the wizard does have his charms.]

[This is just Astarion being Astarion, Gale reminds himself as he leans into the vampire's hands, tension still knotted in his brow. He's seen him doing similar with their leader, using a mixture of cunning and cloying words to sweet talk them, trying to get into their good graces.

Exactly why, Gale's not sure, but he has his guesses. After all, he tried to ingratiate himself with the group as quickly as possible too, desperate not to have to face the threat of ceremorphosis alone.

He clears his throat, and dodges the subject.]

How long is this supposed to stay in my hair? The oil, I mean.

[Right, the oil. Gale's grooming. Astarion's gotten enough out of the wizard for this little venture. He removes his hands, reaching for the bucket again.]

Until just about now. Close your eyes, dear.

[And there's the rinse. He runs the water through Gale's hair a few times, working away the excess oil with his fingers, leaving it shiny and sleek.]

[This is the cleanest Gale's hair has been in some time. He'll be far more appreciative when it's not all hanging in his face, a bit like a curtain.]

I hate to say this, but I might need to consider a haircut sometime soon.

We were going to do something about that beard of yours, weren't we? I do have a skilled hand with a blade.

[He does at least do Gale the favor of pushing his hair out of his face before reaching for a comb to start working through it.]

Shall I make a few cuts?

[Gale looks as though he's about to immediately decline, but he pauses, his eyes momentarily meeting Astarion's as the vampire pushes his hair out of his face; he reconsiders in the second it takes to grab the comb.]

I suppose it couldn't hurt. Not too much, though. I feel the length is rather flattering on me when it's not hanging in my face, don't you?

As much as a dirty mop can be flattering, I suppose. But now that it's clean I must admit you would lose your scholarly charm if we cut it too short.

[And just like that he's back to making teasing little jabs at Gale. The comb is set aside as he picks up a short blade to start trimming.]

[Ah, there's the Astarion he's more prepared for. At least Gale can handle the teasing jabs better than the lingering touches. He holds still while Astarion cuts, privately grateful they're back on familiar ground.]

I was short-haired and clean-shaven for some time. I think the beard is what will surprise my mother the most. Well, of what I intend to tell her.

Short-haired and clean-shaven? You must have looked like a newborn babe. Is that the sort that Mystra favors?

[Astarion can't push too hard if he wants this to work, after all. He needs to give Gale room to breathe, enough space so that he'll start to miss the touches and the flirtations.]

[Gale laughs; despite everything, he still tries to paint Mystra in a good light.]

She favors those who have high degree of skill with the Weave, though in all fairness, that has been me since I was a babe.

[Astarion pauses, considering]

Well, I suppose that is the problem one has when one's lover is an immortal being of divinity.

[He gives an indistinct noise of agreement, the ache in his chest keeping him from thinking too hard on Mystra - or perhaps that's the orb acting up. Either way, it's discomfort, and he's not ready to face it, certainly not while naked in Astarion's tent.]

A problem for anyone longer-lived than I'll be, I imagine. Add that to the list of things not to tell my mother.

Yes, it might be wise to avoid the "I will surely die an early death and am not long for this world" sort of thing around her.

Probably for the best.

[A beat, his brow knitting.]

Were this your mother, what would you say to her?

[There's no way that Gale can miss the way Astarion freezes at those words. His hand stops, his entire body deathly still for a lengthy pause. When he speaks, his tone is completely changed from the lighthearted teasing and flirtations into something rough and forced.]

I'm going to let you think about what you just said and whether that's a question you truly want to ask.

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Whoops, sorry that got long!

o man don't apologize that was beautiful.

😊

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