🔮 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

Comments

[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.]

[sangwhine]

Mmh?

[Astarion's gaze flicks up to meet Gale's, before he gives a thin smile. his hands move back so his thumbs follow the line of his jaw, his fingers cupping the back of his neck.]

No, not before I met our mutual companion. They were my first.

[mystracal]

Ah.

[Good. Astarion didn't seem to take offense to that question, and Gale is slowly discovering just how far he can press with his queries while unraveling what makes the vampire as prickly as he is. Proverbial arrow dodged.

... So why does he feel so tense? Gale shifts his shoulders just a hair. Unable to keep that eye contact, he finally lets his gaze trail from Astarion's face to somewhere on his periphery.]

I suppose there are benefits aside from taste, when drinking from people?

[sangwhine]

[Surely the proximity of Astarion's face has nothing to do with that tension. His fingertips trace lightly against the nape of Gale's neck before he pulls them away, wiping the oil from his hands.]

The taste is preferable by far, but it's also far more invigorating. Like a spark against your skin, your heart racing.

[mystracal]

[Astarion's fingers along Gale's neck make the hairs on the back of it stand on end; try as he might to control his breathing and tone, there's only so much composure Gale can fake as his body reacts, the tops of his ears reddening.]

I wonder if there is a quality in the blood of people that causes that as opposed to that of animals, or if it's simply another quirk of being a vampire. I'd provide no sustenance either way, I suppose.

[sangwhine]

No, you did say your blood would be quite foul.

[He finishes wiping his hands and reaches for a clean cloth, wetting it from a ewer of water.]

Though it did make me wonder just how you knew such a thing.

[mystracal]

[It's Gale's turn to pause as he decides just how much he wants to talk about himself. It's a fantastic topic when it's in a flattering light - otherwise, not so much.]

When I realized the orb was having... adverse effects on my body, I took it upon myself to do some testing. To find out exactly what was happening to my physically as opposed to magically.

[sangwhine]

Ah, so you tested your blood.

[He reaches back to hold Gale's chin in his hand as he wipes away the excess oil on his beard.]

[mystracal]

[He holds still while Astarion works, well distracted by conversation. He prefers it to the silence.]

It seemed as good a starting place as any. It was easy enough to figure out that it was tainted with necrotic energy. What to do about it was the real problem I ended up facing.

[sangwhine]

I must confess I'm not at all familiar with how a little thing like this—[he taps Gale's chest, roughly over where the orb is.]—can seep into one's blood.

[mystracal]

Magic doesn't just seep into the bloodstream like a poison, Astarion. It doesn't travel through the veins or organs of the body.

[He rubs where Astarion prodded him absentmindedly, his expression faltering.]

When this orb became a part of me, it- [hesitation, the span of a heartbeat] it first severed my connection with the Weave. Devoured it, and most of what command I had over it. It tainted my very aura.

[sangwhine]

For someone who has little to do with the Weave that all sounds rather dramatic.

[He brushes a thumb across Gale's cheek, a soothing gesture, clearly nothing to do with tending his beard]

[mystracal]

As someone whose entire life revolves around the Weave, to say it was dramatic is putting it lightly. I've been able to command it since before I could talk, and suddenly, it was... gone.

[Gale almost misses the gesture; he's wrapped up in memories of the feelings he had at the time, almost all of which have been largely unresolved. They were only the start of his problems.]

[sangwhine]

Your body was transformed. The way that you had known yourself was changed forever.

[His touch lingers. For a moment he sees himself in Gale, and it startles him.]

[mystracal]

[Gale opens his mouth to say something, but finds himself at a loss for words when his eyes finally return to Astarion's face; he recognizes the hint of understanding that crosses the vampire's pale features, subtle and barely perceptible, and only then notices that lingering touch to his cheek.

He doesn't pull away, but his eyes set themselves somewhere on the floor behind Astarion, shame lacing into his brow.]

I suppose it was.