[Guilt crosses Gale, tugs at the corners of his mouth as it throbs in his veins. It's not his fault, he tries to remind himself - this isn't about him.
And yet, he can't help feeling as though he pushed Astarion too far, made too many demands. He shouldn't have asked Astarion to turn over, shouldn't have mentioned the scars at all, shouldn't have—
He pulls Astarion to him tighter, forcing his mind onto his partner. He lets that focus — difficult as it is, his head swimming — keep him present, where he's needed.]
[Astarion doesn't shy away from being held. If anything, he seems to crave it. He puts his arms around Gale, finally lifting his head to meet his lover's gaze, his eyes bloodshot from the tears.]
I hope.
[He swallows, brow furrowed as he starts to see the guilt across Gale's features.]
[He presses his forehead to Astarion's, letting the coolness of his skin help temper his fever as the doubt creeps up his neck. He's going to ruin this by pushing too hard, just like before. When will he learn to do otherwise?
He chides himself inwardly. Astarion isn't like Mystra, and he'd be appalled by any amount of comparison, no matter how bare and hypothetical. He turns to levity, hoping it will help.]
As were you. But you're well aware of that, I'm sure.
[The words lack Astarion's usual playful lilt, the subtle flirtation that usually undercuts most things he says. He swallows again as he presses his forehead to Gale's, finding comfort in the familiar gesture. He's still disquieted by the turn of events. His mind is here, his body is here, but every emotion has been swallowed by a gaping maw of emptiness. He doesn't feel himself anymore, and it grips his heart with fear. What if it never returns?
No, he won't let that be. He's free now, he has Gale, and that's worth everything. His lips purse into a tight line, one hand finding Gale's to hold tight to him like an anchor.]
Could I--would you be willing to open yourself to me, darling? Your mind, I mean.
[It's no secret that for as much as he wears his heart on his sleeve, Gale keeps his mind well-guarded. He'd been the only one of their companions to reveal his past via the tadpole purposefully rather than accidentally, his training as a wizard allowing him a greater degree of control over the side effects of the worm than most; when he has slipped, it's been either in private or in Astarion's company, and only for a moment.
There is no one he trusts more with his mind, save for Tara. He nods, giving Astarion's hand a squeeze.]
Of course. I would do anything for you.
[He closes his eyes, his thoughts unfolding. Though he tries to stifle his guilt, some of it remains at the top of his mind, right next to the worry and concern he feels for Astarion.]
[Astarion is far less experienced with keeping his mind in check, his own tadpole sometimes latching onto any strong emotion and projecting it for all to see. He's gotten better at it over time, of course, but it does make it easier in a moment like this to simply reach for Gale's mind and latch onto it.
Gale's guilt is something he quickly pushes away, tamping it down to silence it as much as he can. But as for the rest, he presses, as though searching. Filtering through Gale's worry and concern for something more, something comforting. His own mind, wide open to Gale now, seems filled with a dysphoric void more than anything else. Not unlike the orb in Gale's chest, it is a hungry darkness, consuming any fleeting happy thought Astarion might have. He's afraid of it. He wants it gone, but he's never felt this sort of emptiness before and he doesn't know how to quiet it.]
[As Gale sinks into the abyssal dark that permeates Astarion's mind, he quickly realizes that it's not just Astarion's emotions he's feeling, but ones with which he's entirely too familiar, so akin to his own that they might as well be ghosts of his own past and present. That feeling lives in his chest now, clawing against his insides when doubt takes him; it consumed him as Mystra commanded he die for her forgiveness, leaving him resigned to a terrible fate; it emptied him as he lay on the floor of his study after opening a book he thought contained a missing piece of his beloved goddess, and found out otherwise.
It's the thought of being changed and broken, unrecognizable as despair devours every last shred of hope, leaving only a shell in its wake. It's a horrible, hungering thing, ravenous and uncaring.
Gale has faced such demons before; Astarion has buried his vulnerabilities for so long — he's had to do so to survive — that it occurs to the wizard that he might not know how to face them, how to keep moving until he's beyond them.
And that is where Gale can offer support. He gives his hand another squeeze, and retreats into his own mind to draw forth a memory.
For a moment, the world is only the two of them, connected by their hands and minds entwined; then, the sunrise emerges slowly from the darkness, pushing away the void as it creeps upon the horizon. There are reflections on the water, the dawn breaking across the Chionthar before them, the light reaching all the way to the roof of the Baldur's Mouth.
It might not be his happiest memory, but it's one Gale holds fondly, one he can recreate vividly within his own mind - and Astarion's. He speaks aloud, his voice barely above a whisper.]
[Astarion's hand squeezes tight around Gale's as the memory begins to push its way into his mind. He latches onto it like a starving man being offered food, desperately searching his own mind for its mirror. It isn't hard to find, it's only been a few days after all, but dragging it to the forefront through the darkness is no easy task.
His mind wants to linger on all the terrible thoughts surrounding it instead: how the burdens of his past had overwhelmed him that night just as they do now, the festering fear that it may very well be one of the last sunrises he'll ever see. But Gale's hand is warm in his, as warm as the sunlight spreading across his skin. The same warmth that he can feel echoed across their bond, creating a bulwark against the cold and dark.]
[More of Gale's memory floods in, filling in the details: the chill of the night air as it gave way to the morning, the chatter of merchants preparing for the morning rush, the flutter of his own heart as he struggled to keep his eyes on the sunrise, preferring to watch Astarion instead.
He might not have meant for that last one to bleed through, but it does all the same, an emotion so strong that Gale struggles to contain it. It pushes against that fear that Gale can feel through his partner, and the wizard attempts to bolster it, to allow it to envelop Astarion and provide him a safe haven from his own thoughts, however temporary.]
[A shiver runs through Astarion as the warmth of that feeling suffuses through him. There's a faint hitch as he draws in a breath, pressing himself impossibly closer to Gale. The flutter is so soft, so precious, that he nearly shies away from it for fear that his own darkness might just snuff it out. Yet after a moment, a quiet beat of Gale's heart, that feeling finds its echo in Astarion.
He remembers the moment, the promise of a kiss for every day they'd have together, the poetry that Gale gave him as the golden light of the sun crept over them both. His love for Gale is there too, finding its own footing in a mirror of Gale's love for him. The way that the warmth of Gale's body against his soothed him, the quiet contentment of their hands joined together.
Slowly, much like the morning sun burning away the morning dew, the darkness begins to quiet within him. He give a quiet, heavy sigh as he feels it ebb. Even though Gale's mind has soothed him, warmed him from within, he still feels worn out from the whole experience. He lifts a hand to Gale's cheek, brushing his knuckles across it, letting his fingertips trail along the line of his jaw, through the hair of his beard.]
[As the darkness fades, Gale relaxes just a hair, relieved; he presses a gentle kiss the corner of Astarion's mouth before letting himself bask in the sensation of cool fingers against his scruff.]
That's a promise I intend to make sure you keep. My heart couldn't take it were I to miss my kiss each day... were I to lose you.
[He keeps the link between them open, refusing to close it until Astarion is ready to do so. Morning may be hours away in the world around them, but within their minds, they have all the time they need to watch the light as it crests the horizon.]
But should you need respite from the ghosts that haunt you... know I'm with you. Always.
[Astarion shifts to mirror Gale's kiss with one of his own. He lets himself bask in the light of memory a moment longer before pulling his mind away, too exhausted to keep it up now that the immediate danger is taken care of. Not gone, of course, but settled for now.
He gives a weary sigh, leaning back just enough to take Gale's face in when he opens his eyes. His touch brushes gently over his lover's lips before threading through his hair in a soft hold.]
[The darkness may only be settled for now, but a temporary reprieve is better than none at all. As it retreats, it feels less like the hunger of the orb when sated, and more like its own, carrion beast, feeding off what remains of Astarion in the wake of his centuries of trauma.
Gale lets the connection close, opening his eyes to meet Astarion's crimson ones. He knows good and well the fear may linger in Astarion's mind for years, decades, perhaps the rest of Gale's mortal life; however long it remains, Gale is determined to stay beside him, to help him through it. And if it takes more than his human lifespan, well... he wouldn't be the first wizard to find a way to keep living.
And that's what strikes him most. He wants to live, both with and for Astarion. The vampire's affirmation makes Gale's heart flutter all over again, each and every time as though hearing those words anew. To love so ardently and be loved equally in turn—
He almost regrets letting their mental link close before Astarion could feel what he feels in that moment, hearing those words. Next time, perhaps.]
And I love you, as well. More than the stars, more than the sun, more than I ever thought possible.
[He leans back against Astarion's hand, his gaze still brimming with warmth.]
You should get some rest. I doubt you did any while I was away.
[Though the connection may be gone, Astarion can still feel the comfort in the warmth of Gale's gaze. Having those eyes on him, having someone who looks to him and sees him for who he is, not just an object to be used or desired, is something he doesn't want to ever take for granted. It brings a soft smile to his lips, his thumb brushing over the crease at the corner of Gale's eyes.]
Not much at all. And you've thoroughly worn me out, my love.
[There's the levity that Gale was trying to find before, the musical tone of Astarion's voice returning to him. He leans in, pressing his smile to Gale's lips with a feather soft kiss.]
[A very nice and soft wizard pillow. Astarion has head so many hearts beat their last that it's a wonder to him that he can be this close to Gale's and know that it won't snuff out so easily. He closes his eyes to let its beat echo in his ear, gently stroking his fingers through the soft hair on Gale's chest.]
[Astarion's touch on his chest make his skin tingle, the whorls of his hair standing on end as his pale fingers brush through them. He wraps his arm around Astarion's back, holding him close.]
Will you sleep tonight? After all you've been through today, you could likely use it.
[Gale can't help but smile, his chest jostling as he lets out a single, quiet laugh.]
I'm not sure how chatty I'll be tonight, but who am I to deny you the opportunity for a lecture, should there be one?
[He closes his eyes, trying not to think about the effects of the potion, and how much more he can feel them now that he's not distracted. Some sleep will do him good to fight the fever.]
Don't let me sleep too long, will you? There's something I'd like to do in the morning before the day's plans get underway. Assuming our leader has a plan, of course.
[He can only assume most plans were delayed by his kidnapping.]
If it's anything that requires your assistance I will have to politely decline on your behalf. I'm not letting you out of my sight for at least another day or two.
[His tone is light as he says it, but Gale would know him well enough to know he's completely serious. His hand finds Gale's, lacing their fingers together with a soft squeeze.]
But rest assured, I'll wake you before the midday bells, my dearest.
[Gale returns that squeeze, knowing that for all the levity he's putting on, Astarion is deadly serious about that remark.
The thought is as heartening as it is heartbreaking. From what Gale knows of Astarion, he knows the spawn has rarely had anything of his own, anything he wanted protect other than himself - and that's when he could protect himself. Gods, he can't imagine what he felt, discovering his lover had been taken, not being able to go right then and there to save him —
To think someone cares for his well-being that much — more than the goddess who asked him to sacrifice himself for her forgiveness — makes Gale's heart flutter anew in his chest. Astarion might never let him out of his sight again, and a part of Gale thinks he'd be perfectly okay with that.
But those are thoughts for another day, for when his fever breaks and his exhaustion is abated.]
I'm trusting you on that.
[He expects to be awoken in time to at least make breakfast, but suspects Astarion will let him sleep for as long as he pleases.]
[Astarion will absolutely be a man of his word about fiercely protecting Gale's rest. But that's after his trance. Honestly, he finds that he's nearly lulled completely to sleep with the slow beat of Gale's heart in his ear and the feverish warmth of his body beneath him. But after his few hours of rest he remains where he is, feeling the rise and fall of Gale's chest beneath their joined hands.
It's Wyll, rather than their leader, who comes to their little of the corner of the inn first thing in the morning. Astarion absolutely isn't above giving the man a very pointed glare at even the suggestion that Gale be on breakfast duty the day after his kidnapping. Not to mention the fact that there's an entire damn tavern with a fully functional kitchen beneath them. Word spreads from Wyll to their leader, as it should, and both Gale and Astarion are left undisturbed well into the late morning.]
[Gale would thank Astarion for his consideration, but he sleeps like the absolute dead until late morning, not stirring but once or twice when something in his dreams sees fit to bother him. Though he probably needed rest, he'll be embarrassed all the same, even if he wasn't needed for breakfast.
When he finally does wake, it's with a start: he opens his eyes, realizes he doesn't recognize where he is, and has a mild moment of panic as he sits up, recalls being taken, Orin, then—
Astarion. The inn. He's safe - they're safe.
He can apologize to any vampires he may have dislodged from his chest once he gets his bearings.]
[It is a bit of a rude awakening, given how Astarion had let his mind wander off while tracing the lines of the Netherese orb against Gale's neck. He is a rogue, though, so his quick reflexes keep him from tumbling off the bed entirely. A beat later he registers the panic in Gale's eyes, unable to stop it from echoing in his own mind. A nightmare? A call from Mystra? The orb? He grabs Gale's wrist, squeezing tight as one hand goes to his cheek.]
[He shakes his head before leaning into Astarion's hand, squeezing his eyes shut.]
I'm fine. Just —[he swallows hard, offering Astarion a reassuring, albeit nervous smile]— a momentary panic. I forgot where I was. Forgot that I'd been rescued.
[He fights his anxiety, riled by his dreams, finally shaking it off as best he can. It's morning, and he has work to do. He notes how quiet the room is.]
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And yet, he can't help feeling as though he pushed Astarion too far, made too many demands. He shouldn't have asked Astarion to turn over, shouldn't have mentioned the scars at all, shouldn't have—
He pulls Astarion to him tighter, forcing his mind onto his partner. He lets that focus — difficult as it is, his head swimming — keep him present, where he's needed.]
Will you be all right?
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I hope.
[He swallows, brow furrowed as he starts to see the guilt across Gale's features.]
Dearest, it isn't you. You--you were wonderful.
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[He presses his forehead to Astarion's, letting the coolness of his skin help temper his fever as the doubt creeps up his neck. He's going to ruin this by pushing too hard, just like before. When will he learn to do otherwise?
He chides himself inwardly. Astarion isn't like Mystra, and he'd be appalled by any amount of comparison, no matter how bare and hypothetical. He turns to levity, hoping it will help.]
As were you. But you're well aware of that, I'm sure.
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[The words lack Astarion's usual playful lilt, the subtle flirtation that usually undercuts most things he says. He swallows again as he presses his forehead to Gale's, finding comfort in the familiar gesture. He's still disquieted by the turn of events. His mind is here, his body is here, but every emotion has been swallowed by a gaping maw of emptiness. He doesn't feel himself anymore, and it grips his heart with fear. What if it never returns?
No, he won't let that be. He's free now, he has Gale, and that's worth everything. His lips purse into a tight line, one hand finding Gale's to hold tight to him like an anchor.]
Could I--would you be willing to open yourself to me, darling? Your mind, I mean.
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There is no one he trusts more with his mind, save for Tara. He nods, giving Astarion's hand a squeeze.]
Of course. I would do anything for you.
[He closes his eyes, his thoughts unfolding. Though he tries to stifle his guilt, some of it remains at the top of his mind, right next to the worry and concern he feels for Astarion.]
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Gale's guilt is something he quickly pushes away, tamping it down to silence it as much as he can. But as for the rest, he presses, as though searching. Filtering through Gale's worry and concern for something more, something comforting. His own mind, wide open to Gale now, seems filled with a dysphoric void more than anything else. Not unlike the orb in Gale's chest, it is a hungry darkness, consuming any fleeting happy thought Astarion might have. He's afraid of it. He wants it gone, but he's never felt this sort of emptiness before and he doesn't know how to quiet it.]
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It's the thought of being changed and broken, unrecognizable as despair devours every last shred of hope, leaving only a shell in its wake. It's a horrible, hungering thing, ravenous and uncaring.
Gale has faced such demons before; Astarion has buried his vulnerabilities for so long — he's had to do so to survive — that it occurs to the wizard that he might not know how to face them, how to keep moving until he's beyond them.
And that is where Gale can offer support. He gives his hand another squeeze, and retreats into his own mind to draw forth a memory.
For a moment, the world is only the two of them, connected by their hands and minds entwined; then, the sunrise emerges slowly from the darkness, pushing away the void as it creeps upon the horizon. There are reflections on the water, the dawn breaking across the Chionthar before them, the light reaching all the way to the roof of the Baldur's Mouth.
It might not be his happiest memory, but it's one Gale holds fondly, one he can recreate vividly within his own mind - and Astarion's. He speaks aloud, his voice barely above a whisper.]
Do you see the light, my love?
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His mind wants to linger on all the terrible thoughts surrounding it instead: how the burdens of his past had overwhelmed him that night just as they do now, the festering fear that it may very well be one of the last sunrises he'll ever see. But Gale's hand is warm in his, as warm as the sunlight spreading across his skin. The same warmth that he can feel echoed across their bond, creating a bulwark against the cold and dark.]
I--yes, I see it. I see you.
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[More of Gale's memory floods in, filling in the details: the chill of the night air as it gave way to the morning, the chatter of merchants preparing for the morning rush, the flutter of his own heart as he struggled to keep his eyes on the sunrise, preferring to watch Astarion instead.
He might not have meant for that last one to bleed through, but it does all the same, an emotion so strong that Gale struggles to contain it. It pushes against that fear that Gale can feel through his partner, and the wizard attempts to bolster it, to allow it to envelop Astarion and provide him a safe haven from his own thoughts, however temporary.]
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He remembers the moment, the promise of a kiss for every day they'd have together, the poetry that Gale gave him as the golden light of the sun crept over them both. His love for Gale is there too, finding its own footing in a mirror of Gale's love for him. The way that the warmth of Gale's body against his soothed him, the quiet contentment of their hands joined together.
Slowly, much like the morning sun burning away the morning dew, the darkness begins to quiet within him. He give a quiet, heavy sigh as he feels it ebb. Even though Gale's mind has soothed him, warmed him from within, he still feels worn out from the whole experience. He lifts a hand to Gale's cheek, brushing his knuckles across it, letting his fingertips trail along the line of his jaw, through the hair of his beard.]
I won't let you go. Ever.
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That's a promise I intend to make sure you keep. My heart couldn't take it were I to miss my kiss each day... were I to lose you.
[He keeps the link between them open, refusing to close it until Astarion is ready to do so. Morning may be hours away in the world around them, but within their minds, they have all the time they need to watch the light as it crests the horizon.]
But should you need respite from the ghosts that haunt you... know I'm with you. Always.
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He gives a weary sigh, leaning back just enough to take Gale's face in when he opens his eyes. His touch brushes gently over his lover's lips before threading through his hair in a soft hold.]
Thank you. Gods, I love you.
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Gale lets the connection close, opening his eyes to meet Astarion's crimson ones. He knows good and well the fear may linger in Astarion's mind for years, decades, perhaps the rest of Gale's mortal life; however long it remains, Gale is determined to stay beside him, to help him through it. And if it takes more than his human lifespan, well... he wouldn't be the first wizard to find a way to keep living.
And that's what strikes him most. He wants to live, both with and for Astarion. The vampire's affirmation makes Gale's heart flutter all over again, each and every time as though hearing those words anew. To love so ardently and be loved equally in turn—
He almost regrets letting their mental link close before Astarion could feel what he feels in that moment, hearing those words. Next time, perhaps.]
And I love you, as well. More than the stars, more than the sun, more than I ever thought possible.
[He leans back against Astarion's hand, his gaze still brimming with warmth.]
You should get some rest. I doubt you did any while I was away.
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Not much at all. And you've thoroughly worn me out, my love.
[There's the levity that Gale was trying to find before, the musical tone of Astarion's voice returning to him. He leans in, pressing his smile to Gale's lips with a feather soft kiss.]
Would you hold me until morning finds us?
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Of course. I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise.
[He situates himself so that Astarion can rest his head on his chest. His personal wizard pillow.]
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Your body sings the sweetest lullaby, darling.
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Will you sleep tonight? After all you've been through today, you could likely use it.
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A trance will restore me. And if I slept, who would be audience to your nighttime discussions?
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I'm not sure how chatty I'll be tonight, but who am I to deny you the opportunity for a lecture, should there be one?
[He closes his eyes, trying not to think about the effects of the potion, and how much more he can feel them now that he's not distracted. Some sleep will do him good to fight the fever.]
Don't let me sleep too long, will you? There's something I'd like to do in the morning before the day's plans get underway. Assuming our leader has a plan, of course.
[He can only assume most plans were delayed by his kidnapping.]
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[His tone is light as he says it, but Gale would know him well enough to know he's completely serious. His hand finds Gale's, lacing their fingers together with a soft squeeze.]
But rest assured, I'll wake you before the midday bells, my dearest.
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The thought is as heartening as it is heartbreaking. From what Gale knows of Astarion, he knows the spawn has rarely had anything of his own, anything he wanted protect other than himself - and that's when he could protect himself. Gods, he can't imagine what he felt, discovering his lover had been taken, not being able to go right then and there to save him —
To think someone cares for his well-being that much — more than the goddess who asked him to sacrifice himself for her forgiveness — makes Gale's heart flutter anew in his chest. Astarion might never let him out of his sight again, and a part of Gale thinks he'd be perfectly okay with that.
But those are thoughts for another day, for when his fever breaks and his exhaustion is abated.]
I'm trusting you on that.
[He expects to be awoken in time to at least make breakfast, but suspects Astarion will let him sleep for as long as he pleases.]
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It's Wyll, rather than their leader, who comes to their little of the corner of the inn first thing in the morning. Astarion absolutely isn't above giving the man a very pointed glare at even the suggestion that Gale be on breakfast duty the day after his kidnapping. Not to mention the fact that there's an entire damn tavern with a fully functional kitchen beneath them. Word spreads from Wyll to their leader, as it should, and both Gale and Astarion are left undisturbed well into the late morning.]
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When he finally does wake, it's with a start: he opens his eyes, realizes he doesn't recognize where he is, and has a mild moment of panic as he sits up, recalls being taken, Orin, then—
Astarion. The inn. He's safe - they're safe.
He can apologize to any vampires he may have dislodged from his chest once he gets his bearings.]
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Gale—darling, I'm here. What is it?
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I'm fine. Just —[he swallows hard, offering Astarion a reassuring, albeit nervous smile]— a momentary panic. I forgot where I was. Forgot that I'd been rescued.
[He fights his anxiety, riled by his dreams, finally shaking it off as best he can. It's morning, and he has work to do. He notes how quiet the room is.]
What time is it? Is everyone gone already?
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