🔮 exsanguinated (with @sangwhine)

[mystracal]

tfln | invitations | and there was only one bed | undermountain alurlyath | what could be | blood bond | the price of freedom
it wore his face | dinner with morena dekarios | rediscovery

Comments

[sangwhine]

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.]

[mystracal]

[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.

[sangwhine]

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.]

[mystracal]

[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.

[sangwhine]

[Astarion pauses, considering]

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

[mystracal]

[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.

[sangwhine]

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.

[mystracal]

Probably for the best.

[A beat, his brow knitting.]

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

[sangwhine]

[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.

[mystracal]

[Yep, there is no missing that. Gale's eyes flick toward Astarion, his mouth tightening. Despite the fact he's aware he's in dangerous territory again, he can't help himself this time. He keeps his tone steady, even.]

It was a sincere question, Astarion. Assuming you wouldn't tell her all you've been through, I was just... curious as to what kind of conversation you'd have. Or try to have, rather.

[sangwhine]

[He drops the blade abruptly, pushing himself up from the basin and away from Gale. His voice is suddenly sharp and angry, his hands cutting through the air as he gestures.]

Oh, a lovely hypothetical to sate your curiosity, is it? What kind of conversation would it be, between a son two hundred years dead and the mother who never spared him a second thought even when he lived.

I wouldn't have a conversation with her, Gale. I can't even remember her name.

[mystracal]

[Gale's brow furrows, his body tensing; those eyes, once searching for any way to avoid Astarion, are now locked on him. He opens his mouth to speak, only to second guess himself.]

I'm— [he shakes his head; his gaze darts away for a second before returning, full of genuine remorse.] My apologies, Astarion. I... should have thought about that. Should have considered it.

[He falls quiet, realizing all too late that he knows so little about Astarion - and making a private vow to remedy that in the future.]

[sangwhine]

Well, forethought and consideration for others have never been your strong suits, have they?

[He gives Gale a thin-lipped smile, the barb intended to hurt, even though he might very well be razing any progress he's made in their time together today. But he can't let it burn away completely, he has to control himself.

His hands clench into fists, nails dragging against his palms, the next words carefully enunciated to contain the venom in his voice.]

I think that you can handle yourself from here, since you've already proven yourself quite capable in availing yourself of my belongings.

[mystracal]

Of course.

[He kicks himself inwardly, angry, frustrated at his incredible ability to push people away, no matter how badly he wants to know them better. He could be the most intelligent, powerful wizard in all the Realms, and he'd still be perfectly capable of making a fool of himself.

He pushes his hair out of his face, a few loose clippings falling from it into the water. It somehow feels colder than when he got in. ]

I'll just- finish up. I appreciate your help. Truly.

[sangwhine]

Don't leave any more of a mess than you already have.

[Astarion turns, leaving Gale in his tent without another word.]

[mystracal]

[Indeed he doesn't. By the time Astarion returns, everything is back where it started, from the oil to the blade. Gale even took the time to fill the basin with clean water, just in case. He dares not leave that tent anything but perfect after his faux pas. A part of him wants to chalk it up to Astarion being as dramatic as ever, but it's difficult when said dramatics are aimed at him, and are - most importantly - his fault.

No, Astarion had every right to be angry, and unlike his flirtations, that anger felt real. Real, painful, and incredibly raw in a way that he's rarely seen from the vampire. They don't spend much time in one another's company, unfortunately. And maybe they never will, Gale considers.

He doesn't come over to tell Astarion how his date went, but he leaves a little something for when he returns that he hopes will smooth the waters: a fine bottle of Undermountain Alurlyath.]

[sangwhine]

[Thankfully, the time apart has given Astarion's anger time to cool. And time for him to remember what's most important here: finding protection for himself, securing allies. When he finds the bottle waiting for him, it seems as good a time as any to see what needs to be done to salvage things.

Instead of a message, Astarion makes his way over to Gale's tent. He puts on a carefree and casual affect. He doesn't mind seeing Gale feel guilty, but too much would be counter to his purposes. He can't have Gale avoiding him completely. No, needs Gale to think the words didn't cut too deep. That things are healing over already.]

So, how was your meeting with mother dearest?

[mystracal]

[After their last conversation, Gale was of the mind that Astarion might avoid him for the time being, or even consider never speaking to him again, save for when absolutely necessary. He's a little surprised when the vampire walks right up to his tent uninvited - pleasantly so, of course, as it gives him the opportunity to do better than before, to mend what little rapport they had. He was just getting ready to settle down and do some reading of a certain necromantic tome; he instead leaves it closed and gives Astarion a polite - if uncertain - nod in greeting.]

It went as well as could be expected. She's headed back to Waterdeep, none the wiser that I'm one step away from death's door at any given moment... including right now, I suppose.

[sangwhine]

[Astarion offers Gale a winning smile in response. Some uncertainty is to be expected, of course. Given how things ended last time. But at least Gale isn't turning tail and fleeing. Though he is still being very...Gale about it all.]

I suppose I was getting my hopes up thinking that impressing her would do something to remove the air of gloom and doom that clings to you like a pall, but beggars and choosers.

I trust she appreciated how well you clean up at least.

[mystracal]

[Thankfully, it doesn't look like Astarion is here to end him - or that he's even holding a grudge. Gale assumes he's masking the latter, but remains cautiously friendly. He prefers it to Astarion's usual (verbal and literal) dagger and knives.]

Oh, that she did. She said I looked 'rather dashing for someone who clearly hasn't had a good meal in years,' and insisted I tell her about what I've been studying. She found necromancy to be an acceptable answer. She has always been supportive of me, no matter how eclectic my interests.

[sangwhine]

Well, then I won't see my shirts going missing again, will I?

[Astarion reaches out, brushing an imagined bit of dust from Gale's shoulder. He's being perfectly pleasant. :)]

[mystracal]

[Gale glances toward his hand, inspecting his shoulder after as though the dust would still be there.]

No, no you won't. No need to borrow them for the foreseeable future. And I'll be sure to ask next time. I should have asked the first time.

[He gives Astarion a short, apologetic bow.]

You have my sincere apologies for that.

[sangwhine]

[The apology is good, it does mollify Astarion somewhat. But he gives a click of his tongue, shaking his head at Gale in censure.]

Next time, we'll be buying you your own shirt. So you can become a presentable human being when the need strikes you.

Unless you've found you don't like the feeling of being a rather dashing starving wizard.

[mystracal]

[A smirk cuts into his face.]

I think my wardrobe is adequate enough for now. These were unusual circumstances, and was hopefully the only time I'll need to paint a finer portrait of myself than I am, for the time being. We have more important matters at hand than my attire.

[sangwhine]

And here I thought that this entire debacle might convince you to invest more importance in your appearance.

[He gives a dismissive wave of his hand.]