[As he's closing the door behind them while Astarion makes his grand entrance (and it gets grander every time, if you ask him), it's another few seconds before Gale turns to see the flowers, as well as the individual beyond them. He greets the woman with a warm smile.]
That's us. [As much as he wants to examine the arrangement, he knows manners come first, side-stepping them with a quick glance as he extends his hand to her.] I'm Gale, son of the fine woman who owns this house, and this is my fiancé, Astarion. You're the florist my mother has chosen, I assume?
[She takes his hand in both of hers, smiling in greeting. Her eyes flick over to Astarion as Gale introduces him, but it's only a momentary thing. She gives a soft handshake before releasing him.]
Quelenna, though most call me Lena. I specialize in moonflowers, which I understand was a special request of yours.
[Astarion, meanwhile, seems to have completely forgotten his manners, all but openly staring at Lena. There's something about her, like a thorn wedged at the back of his mind. He puts a hand to the small of Gale's back, his fingers twisting in the fabric just slightly to keep a hold on him. He glances to Gale, putting a strained smile back on his face.]
How lucky for us, darling. Your mother's connections really do extend across all of Faerûn, don't they?
[Though Gale misses any hesitation on Lena's part, Astarion's smile - particularly in combination with that slight feeling of the fabric tightening on his back - gives him pause. He doesn't cover it nearly as well, either.]
Ah, right. She truly does. My mother is a marvel unlike any other, her determination to make this day special for both of us unparalleled.
[Unsure of just what's wrong, he pulls his hands back, reaching for Astarion's to give it a reassuring squeeze before he continues.]
Knowing that, I requested the moonflowers. [He meanders around the arrangement, taking Astarion with him.] Though I've got to say that I didn't expect her to find a source for them so quickly. These are gorgeous specimens, as well.
[Astarion is all too happy to move with him, catching Gale's wrist to keep an hold on his hand. Lena, meanwhile, turns her attention back to the arrangement, seemingly pleased to speak to her work.]
I'm glad that you approve. It's not a common request, but fortunately I have family in Evereska who keep a garden. They don't mind sharing their beauty with those who wish it.
[Astarion makes a faint sound at the mention of Evereska, his grip on Gale's hand pulsing quickly, carefully kept out of view from their new acquaintance.]
[That grip gets another concerned glance from Gale. He'd thought briefly that it was the flowers themselves that were causing Astarion distress - and yes, he was about to chastise himself for it, for not thinking of how the inclusion of the same blossom they found on his grave might cause unexpected anxiety on Astarion's part and how, for all his brilliance, he'd never even considered that - but he reconsiders, refocuses away from his own feelings of inadequacy and on his partner instead.]
Very generous indeed.
[He offers Astarion an out.]
I imagine Tara and my mother are in the kitchen if you'd like to join them, my love? I can finish these arrangements, surely.
[Astarion is all to happy to take that out. He turns to press a kiss to Gale's temple, squeezing his hand once more before releasing it.]
Of course, dearest. I'll let your mother know that we've arrived.
[He give a short little nod to Lena, a nervous energy at the edges of his expression.]
Lovely to make your acquaintance.
[Without waiting for a reply, he quickly makes his escape to the kitchen. Lena follows his movements with a faint frown, her brow creased before she turns her attention back to Gale.]
[Gale's eyes flick from Astarion to Lena, just fast enough to catch that frown; his own brow knits.]
It's an impeccable arrangement, of course. I'd expect no less from someone chosen by my mother.
[He steps closer to the flowers, his fingers grazing delicately against the blossoms.]
Aster for beauty and wisdom. Lavender for the deepest of devotion. Moonflower for captivation of the heart, stronger than any magic. All qualities that suit us, Astarion and I.
[He pulls in a quick breath to settle himself before asking a question of his own.]
Do you come from Evereska yourself? You mentioned family there.
[Any worry or concern over Astarion is quickly forgotten with Gale's assessment of the flowers. Her eyes light up at the prospect of discussing floral arrangements with someone who's versed in the their language as she is.]
Well noted, yes. I do try to weave a happy message into my wedding arrangements.
[She preens a moment, reaching over to ever so slightly adjust the angle on a sprig of lavender within the display.]
My father's family resides in Evereska, these are from my aunt's garden. I was born there, but in my years I've perhaps spent as much time within the city as without. My mother was a Harper, you see, so my father likes to say that I inherited some of her adventurous spirit. Though not so much now that I'm in my later years.
[There's a pause, a moment of consideration, before she favors him with a curious look.]
[Ah, a Harper - yes, they know well of their indomitable spirits. His mouth quirks into a half-smile as he tries to determine how best to approach the topic of Astarion. Certain elements of his past are clearly off-limits, but there's nothing wrong with being conservative with the truth, especially if it guides him toward that that frown was about.]
Baldur's Gate, actually. He lived a half-dozen of my lifetimes there, and will hopefully live a half-dozen more here in Waterdeep.
[The frown is back, with her brow wrinkled as she spares a glance to where Astarion's disappeared into the kitchen.]
Oh—I've never been myself. Father never speaks highly of it and you know how the stories are about that place. Much better here in Waterdeep, as I'm sure you can agree.
[Having expected a polite no or even something along the lines of just because I have family in Evereska doesn't mean I know everyone there, you silly human, Gale looks positively astounded, his brows rising in unmasked surprise.]
Familiar as in— [the absolute barest pause as he tries to compose himself] —having heard of them. We have a friend by that name. In Baldur's Gate, obviously, but he was wondering if his family was still there... in Evereska.
[Gale Dekarios you are so lucky that an old half-elf's insight isn't quite up to snuff to suss out all that lying you're doing. She does look confused, though. Like she's not quite following the line of logic, but after a moment, she shakes her head, remembering how her earlier suspicion seemed to arouse Gale's irritation.]
Well, of course I've heard of them. I am one. On my father's side, obviously. [She huffs a bit of a sigh, another shake of her head.] For a moment I was worried there was some scandal. I don't visit often, you see, and my most recent trip to Evereska was somewhat abbreviated because of your mother's request. But yes, despite the few who've wandered off over the years, the family Ancunín still has roots in Evereska.
Are they half-elf too, your friend? I know they don't mean it, but for as sharp as their memories can be, I find it's sometimes so easy for the Tel'Quessir to forget how it is for us more mortal sorts.
[She is one. That might explain some of how Astarion was acting. He has family there - perhaps even direct family, family who may very well still be alive, who might remember him after two centuries. Does he have siblings? Parents? Gods, what if—
Gale cuts that line of thinking off, realizing that he's taking so long to digest all this new information that he's not yet answered her question.]
Er, yes, half-elven. They do forget how brief our lives are by comparison. [Please excuse that nervous chuckle, Lena.] I will have to tell our friend that we met one of his kin today. I'm not sure if the Ancunín clan is as widespread as the Dekarios one, but he's not heard from his family in some time, so I'm sure he'll be...
[Another beat as he tries to conjure a word out of the air; he gives a little celebratory pump of his arm.]
[But he should. He immediately tries to recall the name of literally any elf at all, but his mind draws a complete and utter blank, and thus the best he can do is:]
Rolan. Rolan Ancunín. That's what he told us to call him.
If it meets your approval, I believe we're quite settled. Morena's provided me the details on the ceremony, so all should be ready for you and your intended.
[She offers him a warm smile.]
If you would, please pass my farewell along to your mother and your fiance. I should be getting back before it gets too late.
Of course. It's been a pleasure to speak with you.
[He shakes Lena's hand once more, shows her to the door, and waves farewell as she exits the front gate. With that, he closes the door and sucks a breath in through his teeth, rubbing his chin idly, his hand over his mouth as he stares at the floor. It holds no solution for his unexpected anxiety.
There's undeniable excitement lingering beneath his nerves - Astarion has family. A bloodline, kin, people who might want to meet him. People who might have been looking for him after his death. Were they the ones who left the flowers on his grave? Has word of what happened in Baldur's Gate reached Evereska? Do they know he's a hero?
Gale pulls in another breath. This should be a good thing... so why is he anxious? Why does he feel trepidation at the idea of telling Astarion what he's learned? He knows the answer to that: he wants to give Astarion stability, and this is certainly throwing a wrench into that idea. That same family who might be excited to meet their lost kin might be horrified upon learning what he is - what happened to him in his absence. They might not even like who he is now, or who he's chosen to be with. Astarion had seemed off before escaping to the kitchen - perhaps he already knows the truth, or suspects it.
A third breath, and Gale heads to the kitchen himself to regroup.]
[Oh, Astarion certainly suspects it. Or fears it, judging by how his mind races the moment he escapes the encounter. Her face was too familiar, the flowers sitting in their vase leaving an itch at the edge of memories and scars that he thought he'd long buried. That he doesn't wish to exhume for fear of what might be lying in wait there.
Because what would his family say, seeing him again? What good could it possibly do to let them know he'd lived for centuries under torment and torture? And why would they even care to know, when there had been nothing they'd done to stop it? To find him? To answer his pleas for salvation before they were eventually silenced?
All his mind can conjure in answer is the 'family' that was forced upon him in his years of torment. Cazador's face, lit in the glow of bluehsine flowers. The punishments, the degradation. How surely they must think him pathetic and weak for falling to a vampire lord, for failing to find his own freedom for centuries until a mind flayer of all things granted it to him.
He swallows against the sour taste of it in his throat, pushing the memory away, pushing he thought of it away, clenching his hands into fists to keep them from trembling. Not now, not again. He doesn't want to lose himself in front of Gale and his mother once more.
With a deep, bracing breath, Astarion pushes away from where he's braced himself against the wall, stepping into the kitchen with a smile on his face to hopefully cover the deep unease still roiling in his guts.]
[Tara's voice rings clear from the kitchen, as motherly and doting as always; she eyes him from her perch atop a stool near the counter, where an army of conjured hands are gathering plates and silverware. Morena, on the other hand, wastes no time in turning to Astarion, her arms spread as she goes to embrace him, her hands and the apron she wears both covered in flour.]
My darling son-to-be!
[She's warmed significantly to him over the past few tendays, especially in light of how he treats Gale - and how utterly, painfully smitten Gale is with him in return. She clearly delights in seeing her son so happy, so warm and alive again - it's a bit funny if you ask her, given this change came from his relationship with a vampire, the very picture of cold undeath, but she's forsaken and and all of her early judgments on Astarion these days. He's clearly good for Gale, and her son is what matters most to her in the entire world.
And with Astarion joining their family properly — and soon — she cares a great deal for him too, and she make sure he knows that. She gives him a tight squeeze before pulling back to look him in the eye. There's a second where she seems to pick up on his discomfort, but she mistakes the source.]
Goodness me, I should have asked, shouldn't I? [She brushes some flour off his sleeve apologetically; he no doubt has hand prints on his back.] Did you see the flowers when you came in? Lena's done truly marvelous work if you ask me.
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That's us. [As much as he wants to examine the arrangement, he knows manners come first, side-stepping them with a quick glance as he extends his hand to her.] I'm Gale, son of the fine woman who owns this house, and this is my fiancé, Astarion. You're the florist my mother has chosen, I assume?
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Quelenna, though most call me Lena. I specialize in moonflowers, which I understand was a special request of yours.
[Astarion, meanwhile, seems to have completely forgotten his manners, all but openly staring at Lena. There's something about her, like a thorn wedged at the back of his mind. He puts a hand to the small of Gale's back, his fingers twisting in the fabric just slightly to keep a hold on him. He glances to Gale, putting a strained smile back on his face.]
How lucky for us, darling. Your mother's connections really do extend across all of Faerûn, don't they?
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Ah, right. She truly does. My mother is a marvel unlike any other, her determination to make this day special for both of us unparalleled.
[Unsure of just what's wrong, he pulls his hands back, reaching for Astarion's to give it a reassuring squeeze before he continues.]
Knowing that, I requested the moonflowers. [He meanders around the arrangement, taking Astarion with him.] Though I've got to say that I didn't expect her to find a source for them so quickly. These are gorgeous specimens, as well.
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I'm glad that you approve. It's not a common request, but fortunately I have family in Evereska who keep a garden. They don't mind sharing their beauty with those who wish it.
[Astarion makes a faint sound at the mention of Evereska, his grip on Gale's hand pulsing quickly, carefully kept out of view from their new acquaintance.]
My, how generous of them.
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Very generous indeed.
[He offers Astarion an out.]
I imagine Tara and my mother are in the kitchen if you'd like to join them, my love? I can finish these arrangements, surely.
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Of course, dearest. I'll let your mother know that we've arrived.
[He give a short little nod to Lena, a nervous energy at the edges of his expression.]
Lovely to make your acquaintance.
[Without waiting for a reply, he quickly makes his escape to the kitchen. Lena follows his movements with a faint frown, her brow creased before she turns her attention back to Gale.]
Well, what do you think of the arrangement?
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It's an impeccable arrangement, of course. I'd expect no less from someone chosen by my mother.
[He steps closer to the flowers, his fingers grazing delicately against the blossoms.]
Aster for beauty and wisdom. Lavender for the deepest of devotion. Moonflower for captivation of the heart, stronger than any magic. All qualities that suit us, Astarion and I.
[He pulls in a quick breath to settle himself before asking a question of his own.]
Do you come from Evereska yourself? You mentioned family there.
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Well noted, yes. I do try to weave a happy message into my wedding arrangements.
[She preens a moment, reaching over to ever so slightly adjust the angle on a sprig of lavender within the display.]
My father's family resides in Evereska, these are from my aunt's garden. I was born there, but in my years I've perhaps spent as much time within the city as without. My mother was a Harper, you see, so my father likes to say that I inherited some of her adventurous spirit. Though not so much now that I'm in my later years.
[There's a pause, a moment of consideration, before she favors him with a curious look.]
Your fiancé, is he from Evereska as well?
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Baldur's Gate, actually. He lived a half-dozen of my lifetimes there, and will hopefully live a half-dozen more here in Waterdeep.
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Oh—I've never been myself. Father never speaks highly of it and you know how the stories are about that place. Much better here in Waterdeep, as I'm sure you can agree.
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Yes, of course. Is there a reason you ask?
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My apologies, it's only an old woman's idle curiosity. He—seemed familiar, in a way. But it must just be my years catching up with me.
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[He offers her a reassuring smile.]
One more question, if you would: you're not familiar with the family name Ancunín, are you?
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Yes, of course, but—what do you mean? Familiar in what way?
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Familiar as in— [the absolute barest pause as he tries to compose himself] —having heard of them. We have a friend by that name. In Baldur's Gate, obviously, but he was wondering if his family was still there... in Evereska.
[Nailed it.]
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Well, of course I've heard of them. I am one. On my father's side, obviously. [She huffs a bit of a sigh, another shake of her head.] For a moment I was worried there was some scandal. I don't visit often, you see, and my most recent trip to Evereska was somewhat abbreviated because of your mother's request. But yes, despite the few who've wandered off over the years, the family Ancunín still has roots in Evereska.
Are they half-elf too, your friend? I know they don't mean it, but for as sharp as their memories can be, I find it's sometimes so easy for the Tel'Quessir to forget how it is for us more mortal sorts.
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Gale cuts that line of thinking off, realizing that he's taking so long to digest all this new information that he's not yet answered her question.]
Er, yes, half-elven. They do forget how brief our lives are by comparison. [Please excuse that nervous chuckle, Lena.] I will have to tell our friend that we met one of his kin today. I'm not sure if the Ancunín clan is as widespread as the Dekarios one, but he's not heard from his family in some time, so I'm sure he'll be...
[Another beat as he tries to conjure a word out of the air; he gives a little celebratory pump of his arm.]
Thrilled.
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Do pass along my regards. I hope they're doing well—ah, what did you say their name was?
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[But he should. He immediately tries to recall the name of literally any elf at all, but his mind draws a complete and utter blank, and thus the best he can do is:]
Rolan. Rolan Ancunín. That's what he told us to call him.
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[She pauses, clearly trying to recall the name.]
I'm afraid I'm not familiar. He must be a more distant relative.
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Likely. I don't know half my cousins, or a fourth of my second cousins, and the math gets worse from there.
[Another nervous laugh before he tries to divert the subject.]
Now, is there anything else to discuss? About the arrangements?
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[She offers him a warm smile.]
If you would, please pass my farewell along to your mother and your fiance. I should be getting back before it gets too late.
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[He shakes Lena's hand once more, shows her to the door, and waves farewell as she exits the front gate. With that, he closes the door and sucks a breath in through his teeth, rubbing his chin idly, his hand over his mouth as he stares at the floor. It holds no solution for his unexpected anxiety.
There's undeniable excitement lingering beneath his nerves - Astarion has family. A bloodline, kin, people who might want to meet him. People who might have been looking for him after his death. Were they the ones who left the flowers on his grave? Has word of what happened in Baldur's Gate reached Evereska? Do they know he's a hero?
Gale pulls in another breath. This should be a good thing... so why is he anxious? Why does he feel trepidation at the idea of telling Astarion what he's learned? He knows the answer to that: he wants to give Astarion stability, and this is certainly throwing a wrench into that idea. That same family who might be excited to meet their lost kin might be horrified upon learning what he is - what happened to him in his absence. They might not even like who he is now, or who he's chosen to be with. Astarion had seemed off before escaping to the kitchen - perhaps he already knows the truth, or suspects it.
A third breath, and Gale heads to the kitchen himself to regroup.]
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Because what would his family say, seeing him again? What good could it possibly do to let them know he'd lived for centuries under torment and torture? And why would they even care to know, when there had been nothing they'd done to stop it? To find him? To answer his pleas for salvation before they were eventually silenced?
All his mind can conjure in answer is the 'family' that was forced upon him in his years of torment. Cazador's face, lit in the glow of bluehsine flowers. The punishments, the degradation. How surely they must think him pathetic and weak for falling to a vampire lord, for failing to find his own freedom for centuries until a mind flayer of all things granted it to him.
He swallows against the sour taste of it in his throat, pushing the memory away, pushing he thought of it away, clenching his hands into fists to keep them from trembling. Not now, not again. He doesn't want to lose himself in front of Gale and his mother once more.
With a deep, bracing breath, Astarion pushes away from where he's braced himself against the wall, stepping into the kitchen with a smile on his face to hopefully cover the deep unease still roiling in his guts.]
Morena, Tara, my darlings, are you in here?
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[Tara's voice rings clear from the kitchen, as motherly and doting as always; she eyes him from her perch atop a stool near the counter, where an army of conjured hands are gathering plates and silverware. Morena, on the other hand, wastes no time in turning to Astarion, her arms spread as she goes to embrace him, her hands and the apron she wears both covered in flour.]
My darling son-to-be!
[She's warmed significantly to him over the past few tendays, especially in light of how he treats Gale - and how utterly, painfully smitten Gale is with him in return. She clearly delights in seeing her son so happy, so warm and alive again - it's a bit funny if you ask her, given this change came from his relationship with a vampire, the very picture of cold undeath, but she's forsaken and and all of her early judgments on Astarion these days. He's clearly good for Gale, and her son is what matters most to her in the entire world.
And with Astarion joining their family properly — and soon — she cares a great deal for him too, and she make sure he knows that. She gives him a tight squeeze before pulling back to look him in the eye. There's a second where she seems to pick up on his discomfort, but she mistakes the source.]
Goodness me, I should have asked, shouldn't I? [She brushes some flour off his sleeve apologetically; he no doubt has hand prints on his back.] Did you see the flowers when you came in? Lena's done truly marvelous work if you ask me.
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