🔮 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

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[mystracal]

Baldurian fashion has always been quite different from Waterdhavian, from what I know of it. This will be a bit of a learning experience, but one never knows when we'll have to infiltrate a social gathering for the sake of our cause.

[sangwhine]

[Astarion's face practically lights up at even the suggestion of infiltrating a social gathering.]

Oh, I hope we do. Brushing elbows with the patriars and well-to-dos of the Gate, only to rob them blind or commit some other manner of subterfuge. Wouldn't that be a delight?

[mystracal]

[He catches that, and can't help but smirk.]

Not everyone is an actor, Astarion. Or comfortable in such crowded venues.

[sangwhine]

Did the great and powerful Gale Dekarios never entertain the Lords of Waterdeep in his tower?

[mystracal]

My tower was largely unsuitable for visitors, save for others invested in similar magical pursuits. Besides, I like my privacy. I was more likely to be invited somewhere than the one inviting.

[sangwhine]

And more likely to decline, I imagine.

[He gives a click of his tongue in judgement.]

The City of Splendors was wasted on you.

[mystracal]

[He can't help but nod, smiling in rueful agreement.]

Maybe now, it would be. I was more adventurous in my younger years, more willing to take a risk for the sake of my curiosity and reputation. You don't get to be the Wizard of Waterdeep by being too mysterious.

[sangwhine]

You say "your younger years" as if you wouldn't look positively juvenile without the beard.

[mystracal]

[Sigh.]

And Tara wonders why I insist on keeping it.

[sangwhine]

She might have less to protest once we teach you how to properly care for it.

[Oops it's cycled back to beard talk in the end.]

[mystracal]

[Shit, Astarion is good at this. Gale realizes he's not getting out of it.]

All right. Let's get it over with.

[sangwhine]

I knew you'd see reason. Come along now. Let's not waste any time.

[He turns to return to his tent, trusting that Gale will follow after him.]

[mystracal]

[A smidge defeated, Gale does just that, leaving the flesh-bound book in his is own tent before following Astarion to his. Looks like he'll have to save his continued dive into the accursed tome for another night.

As he crosses the camp, his eyes flick to the other tents, not only taking note of who is around... but also who might see where he's going and who he's with. It's not unusual for members of their party to talk to one another and visit their quarters, but this is twice now he's likely been seen going into Astarion's tent, and he's not sure what the others will think about it, if they think on it at all.]

[sangwhine]

[Astarion is the opposite of worried about their traveling companions taking note of Gale's repeat visits to his tent. He even gives Karlach a passing wave. Karlach he knows will be an unwittingly eager supporter in his attempts to entangle Gale, once she knows the name of the game.

But at least it's only Karlach so Gale doesn't get spooked over it. Astarion gestures to a padded seat in the corner of his tent once Gale enters, busying himself with a glass and the bottle of Undermountain Alurlyath sitting on his side table.]

Make yourself comfortable, darling. Would you care for a drink?

[mystracal]

[Karlach catches Gale's eye on the way into the tent and gives him an approving nod; the wizard grinds his teeth and makes a mental note to speak with her later, hoping to catch any rumors before they start.

The tent is just as nice as the first time. Here's hoping this evening doesn't end with Astarion storming off again. That was an expensive bottle, and he's not sure when he'll have a chance to get another. Taking the indicated seat, he politely declines Astarion's offer.]

None for me, thank you. Probably best that I keep my head clear for now. Wouldn't want everything you're about to teach me to go in one ear and right out the other.

[sangwhine]

Very well. I expect to have your undivided attention.

[He moves over to sit on a stool in front of Gale, grabbing a bottle of oil—different oil from the last time—and a blade. A bit of the oil goes into his hands and he starts to rub his hands together to warm it as much as he can without much body heat to speak of.]

[mystracal]

[Gale watches Astarion's hands. Good thing he trusts the vampire so close to his neck with a blade.

... But also, maybe he really shouldn't make him mad tonight.]

And how is it you know so much about beards?

[sangwhine]

By watching my brothers. We weren't afforded much in the way of privacy and Cazador wanted us pristine at all times. I picked up the tools of their trade.

Chin up, dear.

[Reaching for Gale's jaw, drawing his fingers across it, gently massaging the oil into his skin.]

[mystracal]

[Gale does as instructed, arching his neck to raise his chin. It's a marvel his beard looks as good as it does - must be good genes up in Waterdeep. He considers asking about how the biology of a vampire works - do they continue to grow hair if they don't age? What about their nails? Has Astarion's hair always been so coiffed? - before deciding that's a line of questioning he'd rather not risk at the second.]

How many did you have? Brothers. Or siblings in general, I suppose.

[sangwhine]

[A true marvel, but it can always use a little moisturizing. Especially with the amount of fire, acid, ice, and blood that they're all subject to day in and day out. He's leaned closer as his fingers work, thumbs smoothing across his cheeks.]

Six siblings. Three brothers, three sisters. My fellow spawn, united in misery under Cazador.

[mystracal]

[His eyes flick to Astarion's face, having little elsewhere to go when he's so close.]

I see.

[He falls silent, deciding that, rather than prodding, he'll leave room for Astarion to continue speaking on the subject if he wishes to.]

[sangwhine]

[Astarion does continue, not looking too closely at what compels him to keep talking. If he can garner sympathy from Gale maybe it will lure him in. His gaze is fixed on his hands, tracing against Gale's chin, under his lips.]

I was one of the first. So I was responsible for tending to many of them after they turned. Yet despite that all, I was rarely the favorite.

[mystracal]

[Gale keeps his expression impassive, but is privately pleased. So far, so good.]

I can't imagine what being the favorite of a vampire lord would even entail.

[sangwhine]

Oh, he loved to spoil his favorites. Fine chambers, finer clothes, privacy. Fresher rats. A promise that you wouldn't have to face the lash.

[He pauses his touch, his palms pressed against Gale's jawline, lips framed by his thumbs.]

[mystracal]

[Rats, yes. Astarion has mentioned them before, and an idle thought Gale has had a few times slips before he can reel it in.]

Had you never fed off people before? Before- um.

[He raises an eyebrow, noticing Astarion's pause, and wonders if he should back off. Not everyone is so eager to speak of their trauma, no matter how curious he may be.]