[His voice still sounds hoarse, the usually musical affect of his words undercut by a heavy weariness. He curls his hand in the fabric of Gale's shirt, his thumb running across the material.]
[Gale can't help but laugh - despite all the emotions he's had wearing on him over the course of the day, Astarion still manages to find a little more energy for determined defiance.]
And I couldn't be happier for it. You chose me, you chose to remain who you are and not ascend, and... and I...
[He pauses, hesitating as a consideration he's been avoiding floats back into his mind. His eyes fall, brow tightening.]
[It does bring a smile to Astarion's face to hear Gale's laughter, despite everything. Though it fades rather quickly with his next words. He reaches up to cup Gale's cheek in his hand, tilting his face back up to look at him properly.]
There have been many gods who were mortals once, including the Dead Three and Karsus himself. While they all sought power for less noble purposes than I, what we have in common is ambition. It drives me just as it did them, an insatiable call for more power, no matter the cost.
[Gale remembers all too well the night Astarion had to throw himself at him to steal his attention from the book - and how uncomfortable it had made his partner.]
I thought I'd learned my lesson when I became host to the orb, but the more I thought about the crown, what I could do with it - what I would do with it - the more I wondered what would become of me once I had it. Would those noble intentions remain? Would I be capable of loving you? Or would I end up just as unfeeling as Mystra, no longer able to understand love the way I once had?
I had- [he laughs sadly, a quiet single breath pushed from the back of his throat] -I had thought, were we equals, there'd be no need for such concerns. I would never feel inadequate next to you, unworthy. And you would be so powerful that you could draw my attention whenever you wanted it.
[He shakes his head.]
I think had you gone through with the ritual, you'd have lost a piece of your soul, if not all of it. And I'm not entirely certain the same wouldn't happen to me were I to become a god.
[Astarion listens to him, quiet and intent, until the very end. He purses his lips before letting out a heavy sigh.]
As it turns out, seeking incredible power comes with its own consequences.
I could feel myself slipping, when I pulled him from his sleep. I could see him in my actions, hear him in my thoughts. I think that, had I completed the ritual, I would no longer have been myself.
[He looks up to Gale, his expression somber but gentle.]
Were you to become a god, I don't know if you would be the man I've come to love.
[Astarion smiles and shifts closer, leaning in to close his lips over Gale's for a gentle kiss. His hand trails back, threading through the damp hair at the nape of Gale's neck, holding him close.]
[Gale is all too happy to return that kiss, then steal another of his own. He leans back as far as the basin will allow, his back braced against the wall behind him, his legs bent so that they fit in the tub. Even with his spell, it's cozy, at best.
Not that he minds too much. He enjoys that closeness.]
I suppose we should finish getting you cleaned up.
[It's mostly along Astarion's chest, an area that was hidden when he was folded upon himself. He dips the cloth and wrings it lightly before getting back to work, scrubbing along Astarion's chest, removing some of the last vestiges of Cazador's blood.]
[Gale's touch feels so much better now that Astarion is more present in his body. He looks down to the muddied water, running a hand through it in contemplation.]
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Before long they'll all carry your scent.
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And what scent is that? Describe it to me.
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Ink, parchment, a faint whiff of decay overlaid by petrichor.
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That sounds accurate. And hopefully not all that unpleasant.
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[His voice still sounds hoarse, the usually musical affect of his words undercut by a heavy weariness. He curls his hand in the fabric of Gale's shirt, his thumb running across the material.]
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[Gale kisses the top of Astarion's head once, then twice. That weariness is impossible to miss.]
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I am not stuck with you, Gale Dekarios. I chose you. And I would not have anyone else.
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And I couldn't be happier for it. You chose me, you chose to remain who you are and not ascend, and... and I...
[He pauses, hesitating as a consideration he's been avoiding floats back into his mind. His eyes fall, brow tightening.]
I can't choose the crown.
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For us to remain as equals, you mean?
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Yes. For us to remain equals. If it came to a choice... I would choose you. I would choose you every time. Choose us.
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You are more to me than any god could ever be. You don't need to be any more than you are now for me to love you, to want to stay with you.
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But I could be so much more for you. I could do so much good for this world. For you.
[And yet, there's an iota of doubt creeping into his tone, pulling at his lips so that his nose curls.]
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But what would be the cost, dearest?
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There have been many gods who were mortals once, including the Dead Three and Karsus himself. While they all sought power for less noble purposes than I, what we have in common is ambition. It drives me just as it did them, an insatiable call for more power, no matter the cost.
[Gale remembers all too well the night Astarion had to throw himself at him to steal his attention from the book - and how uncomfortable it had made his partner.]
I thought I'd learned my lesson when I became host to the orb, but the more I thought about the crown, what I could do with it - what I would do with it - the more I wondered what would become of me once I had it. Would those noble intentions remain? Would I be capable of loving you? Or would I end up just as unfeeling as Mystra, no longer able to understand love the way I once had?
I had- [he laughs sadly, a quiet single breath pushed from the back of his throat] -I had thought, were we equals, there'd be no need for such concerns. I would never feel inadequate next to you, unworthy. And you would be so powerful that you could draw my attention whenever you wanted it.
[He shakes his head.]
I think had you gone through with the ritual, you'd have lost a piece of your soul, if not all of it. And I'm not entirely certain the same wouldn't happen to me were I to become a god.
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As it turns out, seeking incredible power comes with its own consequences.
I could feel myself slipping, when I pulled him from his sleep. I could see him in my actions, hear him in my thoughts. I think that, had I completed the ritual, I would no longer have been myself.
[He looks up to Gale, his expression somber but gentle.]
Were you to become a god, I don't know if you would be the man I've come to love.
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Then I won't become a god. I don't want to lose that man, Gale Dekarios. I don't want to lose you.
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Then, I'm afraid you're stuck with me, darling.
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[His arm still around Astarion's back pulls him just a hair closer; the orb glimmers from beneath his wet clothes.]
And I would not have anyone else.
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Not that he minds too much. He enjoys that closeness.]
I suppose we should finish getting you cleaned up.
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[He pauses, one fang indenting his lower lip as he looks back up to Gale.]
But I do seem to recall you quite enjoy that.
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All the more reason I love you, and could never leave you even if I wanted: you know me entirely too well.
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[He pulls away from Gale, retrieving the cloth and pressing it into his hands.]
I think that you had some work to finish.
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That I do.
[It's mostly along Astarion's chest, an area that was hidden when he was folded upon himself. He dips the cloth and wrings it lightly before getting back to work, scrubbing along Astarion's chest, removing some of the last vestiges of Cazador's blood.]
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What a mess this all made.
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I meant Gale's hand in that last tag. Whups
I figured as much. ;)
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