mystracal | 🔮 exsanguinated (with @sangwhine)

[He smiles against Astarion's lips; despite the chilly night air, his face is plenty warm.]

You already do. I cannot promise our lives will be entirely adventure-free, but perhaps they'll be less life-threatening, at the very least.

[He can't help himself as he steals another kiss, leaning back against the wall of the building that forms one wall of the alley.]

[Astarion leans forward to chase his lips, loosely tangling his fingers in Gale's hair to keep him held close. It is, perhaps, not the ideal location for stealing kisses with his fiance, but he isn't going to complain. Not when something as simple as Gale's touch soothes the worries he had just moments ago.

After a breath he parts, drawing his hand away with a lingering touch to the line of Gale's jaw. He gives a playful little flick to his chin at the very end.]

At the very least, yes. Now, shall we continue on our way? I much prefer our bed to a clandestine alleyway.

[For more of those touches, Gale would follow Astarion to the ends of Faerûn, to the other side of Toril and beyond.]

As do I. As I recall, I was promised I'd be allowed to dote on you tonight.

[He takes Astarion's hand again and starts walking once more; don't forget about those moments of concern he had during dinner Astarion, because he sure hasn't. He intends to talk about those, too.]

[Ah, well. He may have been hoping Gale wouldn't recall that particular detail, but that is the issue with having a very intelligent wizard lover, isn't it? Astarion laces his fingers with Gale's, giving his hand a soft squeeze.]

I'm looking forward to it, darling.

[It's well into the night by the time they get home, the streetlights having long been lit, most people in the market district having headed home for the evening while the taverns are lighting up. Gale takes his time getting back, enjoying the night stroll, in far less of a hurry than they were on the way over; as they near the tower, he opens the front door with a wave of his hand.

As he waits for Astarion to step in first, an idle thought crosses the back of his mind:]

What are the rules for where and where not you can enter without invitation? You seemed to need one to step into my mother's house, but given this is your home, are the former requirements no longer necessary?

[Astarion will gladly step in, relaxing a bit to be home. It's still novel to have a place he can call home. He turns back to Gale, tilting his head a bit at the question.]

In the simplest terms, I can't enter a residence without invitation. Taverns, shops and the like don't apply. You've extended your invitation here, so I can come and go as I please.

Ah. A good thing, too, as I have enough enchantments to work on as it is.

[His first order of business being the shortcuts to the various floors of the tower. Decorating the entry level are a number of paintings, tapestries, and decorated mirrors, each featuring artistic depictions of family and figures enjoying various activities: reading, writing, dining, being measured for a fine suit, and the like. They fit well with the rest of the decor, not standing out too much, even if they do come off as a bit ostentatious. What these (rather cleverly, if one were to ask Gale) hide are short-range portals that can quickly take anyone attuned to them to the corresponding room and floor, saving them a long walk up multiple flights of stairs.

As it's taking the magic some time to fully attune to Astarion's particular signature, Gale has mostly relegated himself to the stairs since their arrival. As a man who is nowhere near as fit as he should be, he is beyond ready to enjoy the magical enhancements his unique home has to offer. He beelines for the stairwell as he slides out of his fine coat.]

[Astarion follows after, giving an eye to the tapestries and paintings. He's had his eye on them since he first arrived, as well as the rest of the entryway, considering how he might be able to give Gale's tower a bit more glamor. Perhaps some scones, new molding along the ceiling. He certainly has ideas brewing in his mind, and time to contemplate as they climb the stairs together.]

Speaking of your enchantments, dearest, you'll have to let me know which parts of your decor you're most attached to and which ones I'm free to play about with.

[Gale hmms to himself, eyeing one of the tapestries that hangs near the bottom of the stairs - the one that goes directly to the library.]

Well, the pragmatic decor will have to stay. The portals, that sitting couch by the window that Tara loves. The bookshelves, of course. I would like the kitchen to stay as is, if you don't mind.

[Astarion gives an approving hum in response, nodding along to himself.]

I wouldn't dream of disturbing Miss Tara's favorite spot. I'll keep your kitchen and library intact as well, don't you worry.

But the rest, I think, could use a little embellishment.

[He chuckles quietly as they pass the second floor and move onto the third.]

Magic is my area of expertise, not interior design. As such, I'm open to any suggestions.

I was thinking perhaps crown moldings against the ceiling, a new balustrade for the landings and the staircase. Some new rugs for the entryway.

[He runs his hand along the railing of the steps as he speaks, clearly looking forward to these updates.]

You would allow me at least a chaise in the library, won't you?

[He glances at Astarion over his shoulder with a smirk.]

So long as I may join you on it on occasion. I'm not sure what you'd like to read from my collection, but I'm sure you can find something in there to your tastes.

Oh, I'm certain I will in due time, my love.

[He gives Gale a grin in response, showing his teeth.]

[Gale looks a moment too long at those beautiful fangs, almost tripping over his own feet as he keeps climbing. Ignore that, Astarion - he's just painfully, stupidly besotted. He keeps going, making sure to put one foot in front of the other this time.]

I'm sure there are plenty of activities we could indulge in on such a piece. Not just reading or studying, of course.

Gale Dekarios, you rake.

[He steps up, putting a hand to Gale's back so he doesn't trip all over himself.]

I was hoping you'd help me break it in, when the time comes.

[He smiles brighter at Astarion's hand on his back, even if it is a sly grin. He wouldn't dare let his mother hear this kind of talk over polite dinner.]

Of course, though it'll have to be a sturdy piece to live up to our exacting needs.

I'll make certain of it, dearest.

[He drops his hand give Gale's ass a light swat.]

[Oh, that gets a laugh out of him. He curses the stairs for keeping him from turning on Astarion, his hand on the railing as he keeps his relative composure.]

None of that until we're in the bedroom and out of these clothes. And you've been fed.

You'd better hasten your steps then, my love. Although I'm certain your mother's cooking was delicious, I'd much rather have the taste of you on my lips.

[Astarion doesn't need to tell him twice; Gale picks up the pace, allowing them to reach the upper floors in no time. He pushes open the door to the master suite, the space just as they left it before dinner: there are a few sets of jackets and pants tossed across the bed haphazardly, all choices decided against as Gale paced across the carpet and talked himself into a tizzy; some shirts hang over the folding screen near the wall, not a single one of them as fine as Astarion's usual wardrobe requires; two pairs of well-made, formal shoes wait beside the bed, both bought for the occasion before being passed over in favor of an older pair with gold embroidery.

Gale heads for the wardrobe first, hanging up his coat before he undoes his tie and starts working on the laces of his shirt.]

I was worried about you, you know. I wasn't sure how well you'd take having to swallow down food you can't even taste.

[Astarion steps in after him, going instead to the clothes that are left strewn about with their hasty departure. He's carefully picking them up and folding them, making sure there won't be any creases left from their time spent on the floor.]

I've endured far more unpleasant experiences in my time, my dear. And for far less important reasons. It was hardly noticeable by the end of it.

Still, that you would do all that for me — and just to impress my mother — is a kindness I've rarely been afforded. Especially in the past.

[He takes the time to roll his tie before he slides out of his shirt, replacing it with a grey, linen tunic. He pauses has he undoes his dress pants.]

You did seem... alarmed a time or two. Particularly with her surprise over our hasty engagement.

[Ah, he should have expected this turn in the conversation. That it would come back to this. His hands curl in the fabric of the shirt he's holding, gripping it tight with his back turned to Gale.]

I told you, dearest. I was somewhere else.

[He pauses, but he knows that isn't the answer Gale wants, that it won't satisfy him. Suddenly, he's wound too tight, feeling every bit like one misstep will land him in a trap.

But no, Gale isn't like that. Gale cares for him, loves him. He pushes a breath out, rough and noisy.]

I was—expecting the knife. The one that wasn't there. I thought that I'd be punished for failing you. For disappointing her.

[Gale's brow furrows, his eyes laced with concern as he looks Astarion's way.]

And what do you think I'd do, were you to disappoint my mother?

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