[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.]
I'm sure you never expected this to be the price of your freedom: a bloody bath and a water-logged wizard.
[He leans out of the tub, grabbing the carafe of water on the nearby table. Setting the one washcloth aside, he conjures a fresh one before using the clean water to rinse the crimson droplets from Astarion's hair.]
I could always call Shadowheart in here to purify the water for us.
I'm grateful you did. Your presence is always a comfort.
[He takes the towel, leaning in to kiss the corner of Gale's lips before he sets about drying his hair and scrubbing the last of the blood from his skin.]
I'm only glad it seemed to help. I would do anything for you.
[That kiss helps keep Gale's heart light; he's glad to see Astarion acting more like himself. It will take time to heal, time they should have plenty of once the tadpoles are gone and he's given the crown to Mystra. Gale intends to be with him every step of the way.
He eases to his feet, peeling out of his clothing and leaving it hanging at the side of the basin. Wiping off what traces he had of blood on him - not nearly as much as Astarion - he wraps the towel around himself and steps out of the tub, eyeing his soggy garments. He's going to run out of camp clothes at this rate.]
[At least they're no longer in the wilderness without any options for shopping. Astarion drapes his towel over his shoulders, so it's easier to pat his hair dry. He steps in closer to Gale, smoothing a hand across his shoulders.]
[Gale's eyes meet Astarion's, his gaze as adoring as ever as Astarion returns to him a question he once asked. He places a hand on Astarion's at his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.]
I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise. No force in this world could keep me from your side tonight.
No sense in it at all, no. Especially as what's mine seems to have become yours as of late.
[The familiarity of the moment, their usual back and forth strikes Astarion for how much it contrasts to the beginning of the evening, to when Gale first arrived. He quiets a moment, taking Gale's hands in his properly, turning to face him.]
I hope you understand what it means to me, everything that you've done. You have given me a gift. One I hope to never forget. Thank you, Gale.
[Beneath Astarion's gentle touch, Gale burns brightly, the orb etched into his skin illuminated with a soft glow as his heart sings in his chest.]
Dekarios. If it's all right with you, I think I'd rather be Gale Dekarios, a man who loves you very much, who you convinced could be enough just as himself.
[He kisses the hand still in his grasp atop the knuckles.]
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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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[He leans out of the tub, grabbing the carafe of water on the nearby table. Setting the one washcloth aside, he conjures a fresh one before using the clean water to rinse the crimson droplets from Astarion's hair.]
I could always call Shadowheart in here to purify the water for us.
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I think that I would rather just throw it out.
And get you out of those clothes.
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A wise choice. I don't regret joining you, but I would feel better in something dry.
[He'll wait for Astarion to stand before he does, but he does conjure towels for them like the ever-helpful boyfriend he is.]
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[He takes the towel, leaning in to kiss the corner of Gale's lips before he sets about drying his hair and scrubbing the last of the blood from his skin.]
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[That kiss helps keep Gale's heart light; he's glad to see Astarion acting more like himself. It will take time to heal, time they should have plenty of once the tadpoles are gone and he's given the crown to Mystra. Gale intends to be with him every step of the way.
He eases to his feet, peeling out of his clothing and leaving it hanging at the side of the basin. Wiping off what traces he had of blood on him - not nearly as much as Astarion - he wraps the towel around himself and steps out of the tub, eyeing his soggy garments. He's going to run out of camp clothes at this rate.]
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You'll stay with me tonight, won't you?
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I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise. No force in this world could keep me from your side tonight.
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Perhaps tomorrow night as well.
And the night after that. And the night after that.
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For as long as you'll have me, as long as I live.
[He reddens just a hair from a thought before vocalizing it.]
We might consider combining our tents. No sense in having two, now is there?
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[The familiarity of the moment, their usual back and forth strikes Astarion for how much it contrasts to the beginning of the evening, to when Gale first arrived. He quiets a moment, taking Gale's hands in his properly, turning to face him.]
I hope you understand what it means to me, everything that you've done. You have given me a gift. One I hope to never forget. Thank you, Gale.
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And what gift is that, Astarion?
[He suspects he knows, but he wants to hear it, for it to be all the more real in his heart.]
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[He tugs at Gale's hands to draw him closer, reaching up to cup his cheek again, tracing his thumb over the flush on Gale's skin.]
And the gift that is you, Gale of Waterdeep.
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Dekarios. If it's all right with you, I think I'd rather be Gale Dekarios, a man who loves you very much, who you convinced could be enough just as himself.
[He kisses the hand still in his grasp atop the knuckles.]
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[Astarion pulls Gale's hand back to kiss his knuckles in turn, running his thumb across his fingers in thought.]
AncunÃn. That was—is my family name.
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I meant Gale's hand in that last tag. Whups
I figured as much. ;)
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