[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.]
[The name leaves Astarion's lips, and Gale can't help how his expression shifts in quiet disbelief. He's never heard Astarion's family name around the camp - and from the sound of it, he's not spoken it to anyone in a long time. It's one of the few things Cazador couldn't take from him, and for Gale to be trusted with it feels divine.]
[Astarion can't help but smile. Gale understands the importance around the name, yet he's still the same Gale about the whole affair. Astarion takes Gale's hand, kissing the back of it.]
[Gale has to stand there another few seconds, just taking Astarion in, before he finally manages to tear his eyes away.]
I suppose I should put some clothes on. Hang these all to dry. Levitate the tub somewhere less obtrusive. Start thinking about how our new living arrangement will look.
[He could do those things, yes. They could settle down, there's been enough for them today. But now that Astarion's more at ease, more present within himself, with Gale so close, he doesn't want to go far from him. He turns Gale's hand in his, lacing their fingers together before drawing Gale's wrist to his lips for a kiss.]
Or perhaps, you could keep your clothes off. We can deal with things like living arrangements when the sun rises.
[Gale bites his lower lip, liking those suggestions as he lets Astarion have at his wrist. His skin is warm, both from the bath and the hot blood pumping through him as his heart drums away.]
Excellent suggestions, but I didn't hear a no to moving the tub.
[With a wave of his free hand, the basin is carefully lifted a few inches off the ground with a gentle swirl of magic. It floats out the front of the tent, his wet clothes still hanging off the side, before setting itself on the ground, leaving the rest of the space free for the two of them.]
Given that Wyll offered to take up cooking duties tonight because he thought it best we have some privacy after your ordeal, I'm afraid they already know anything we could have kept hidden.
[But Gale doesn't seem too upset about it as he lets himself be drawn forward, leaning in to steal a kiss.]
I wouldn't say they've been fruitless at all. We've been finding together the boundaries of our comfort, of our needs. Still, I... would like that. Very much so.
[He leans into Astarion's hands, basking in how those pale fingers brush against his beard, grateful for every affectionate touch as though it were the first he's had in years.]
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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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A pleasure to meet you, Astarion Ancunin.
[Ever dramatic, he gives a little bow.]
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The pleasure is all mine.
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I suppose I should put some clothes on. Hang these all to dry. Levitate the tub somewhere less obtrusive. Start thinking about how our new living arrangement will look.
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Or perhaps, you could keep your clothes off. We can deal with things like living arrangements when the sun rises.
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Excellent suggestions, but I didn't hear a no to moving the tub.
[With a wave of his free hand, the basin is carefully lifted a few inches off the ground with a gentle swirl of magic. It floats out the front of the tent, his wet clothes still hanging off the side, before setting itself on the ground, leaving the rest of the space free for the two of them.]
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I suppose you're not worried as to what our companions might think anymore.
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[But Gale doesn't seem too upset about it as he lets himself be drawn forward, leaning in to steal a kiss.]
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Then there's no point in hiding anymore.
[His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, the tip drawing against the length of one fang.]
I know our recent attempts have been somewhat fruitless, but . . . I'd like to make love to you.
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[He leans into Astarion's hands, basking in how those pale fingers brush against his beard, grateful for every affectionate touch as though it were the first he's had in years.]
You know the rules. The one rule, really.
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I meant Gale's hand in that last tag. Whups
I figured as much. ;)
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