[Astarion knows very well what sympathy looks like in the eyes of others. It's not something he relishes in, not something that brings any sort of comfort or calm to him. Sympathy is an empty hope. Sympathy can't kill a vampire lord. Sympathy never freed him from his torture or captivity. He has to look away as a sour taste rises in his throat. If he can't make this work, if he can't play Gale the way he wants to, none of it will mean a thing. Gale will just become another person who pities him for the life he's been forced to live with no power, no will to change a thing.]
I don't linger on the thought of it. I'll either burn up in the sun, or spend the rest of eternity running from Cazador. Killing him matters more to me.
[Gale lets it go for now, stifling a sigh; however, Astarion's insistence he not linger on the thought only encourages the wizard to do just that. He never has been one for doing what he's told.
He mentally files it away as one more problem to solve. He has plenty of his own issues to deal with, sure, but no easy solutions for any of them, save for following Mystra's commands. Perhaps, with what time he has, he can help the others instead. He can make himself useful - useful enough to keep. Obliterating himself along with the Netherbrain would have been far easier than what they'll likely be dealing with when they start digging into the city proper. He'd rather the rest of the party not ponder that, growing to resent him in the process.
Ah yes, don't linger on the thought of it they would insist, whether it's about Astarion's life beyond the tadpoles, or Gale's value as a person. Perhaps they're more similar than he thought.
Gale attempts to offer Astarion a reassuring look.]
Let's make sure we kill him then, and after that, we can worry about how you'll stay in the sun. But for now, I suppose we should tackle my beard. Seems best to start with the smallest step, and the one we know how to deal with.
[Small blessings for Gale to give him the out, to bring them back around to what Astarion had wanted out of this entire encounter. But one word catches Astarion like a hook, abruptly pulling him from his anger, his past, all of it. His gaze searches Gale again, trying to find if it was just a slip of a tongue or something more.]
[Gale nods. Yes, the part about him staying in the sunlight. Of course that was what he meant.]
I can't guarantee anything, obviously, but I have been known to devise some phenomenal enchantments, when given the opportunity. And with what awaits in Baldur's Gate, perhaps a solution will appear sooner than we think— than you think, rather.
[Well. That's what he wanted, isn't it? An assurance that he could have a companion who wouldn't turn on him. An inscrutable emotion passes over Astarion's face as he turns the words over in his mind. Does he need to continue, if that much is true? Does he need to seduce Gale, if he'll get what he wants without it?
While it's true he's actually found Gale quite charming in the time they've spent together, the thought of something more takes on a different shade in Astarion's view of their interactions. He's stunned by it, struck dumb for a moment, but silence only lets the worser parts of his instincts whisper louder at the back of his mind. He still should. It's what he's good at. It's the way that's worked, time and time again.]
Obviously.
[His reply is a beat too slow, his thoughts still trying to sort into some kind of order. He looks Gale over, sitting here with him, in his tent, asking his advice, his guidance, and gives him a smile that's just shy of being genuine.]
You know, now that we've tended to it, I think I rather like the rugged look on you.
[He feels he should move away, but finds himself glued to his spot. This is definitely that cloying Astarion, he tells himself, the one he's seen buttering up their leader when he's in the mood for a snack.
And yet, those little moments of empathy come floating back into his mind: of Astarion insisting he could do better than Mystra, arguing that he deserved to be treated as more than a goddess' plaything, knowing what it felt like to be changed and unrecognizable from who he used to be. Those felt real, sincere - and gave Gale a flicker of an emotion he's not sure he's truly felt in ages. Cautious as he is, he can't help but want to nurture that feeling, see where it leads. It's his natural curiosity at work.
He reminds himself that said curiosity has led him to disaster before. He avoids a direct answer, stalling as his mind turns.]
I'm frankly surprised you'd want to, given what an ass I made of myself the other day.
That's in the past, dear. There's no need to worry over it.
[There's Astarion's real coping mechanisms coming into play. But he's well experienced enough with waving off yesterday's incidents so he can seize on today's opportunities to even bat an eye at it.]
[As someone still moored in his folly and all the disgrace that resulted from it, Gale's earlier faux pas doesn't seem quite as 'in the past' as he'd personally like, but he's willing to move beyond it for now in light of that quiet fluttering in his chest. He really shouldn't indulge, as this isn't exactly the time, place, or the circumstances for it; however, given those same circumstances include the tadpoles in their heads and a mind flayer cult infecting the city, there's no telling when a day will be their last. They might all be growing tentacles by the morrow for all he truly knows.
Perhaps he should indulge a little, if for no other reason than to distract himself from that grim thought. It's just a kiss. When was the last time he had one of those, felt though his physical body rather than the Weave? How long has it been since he allowed himself to believe that someone could see him as desirable?
Maybe Astarion is sweetening him up, or maybe he's feeling grateful to have someone to commiserate with for a change, and this is how he shows it. Maybe he's secretly lonely. Gale can relate to that an unfortunate amount.
He fights a moment of embarrassment. Astarion made that proposition seem so casual, and here he is, overthinking it.]
All right. [He tries to hide his nerves with a smirk, one more confident than he feels.] But only if you ask.
[There it is. He's won Gale over, or at least secured an important victory. The hesitation, the attempt at a diversion, it's just allowed Gale the time needed so that he can convince himself that he wants this. Because it does no good if Gale doesn't want it for himself.
Astarion leans a little closer, gently cupping Gale's cheek in one hand. He lets his voice quiet, to something softer and more intimate.]
[As Astarion touches Gale's face, he may be able to feel the wizard lean into it so subtly that even Gale doesn't realize he does it. It's a reflexive, instinctual - and if you asked Gale himself, unfortunately telling and perhaps a little pathetic. He's aware he's lonely; he doesn't want anyone else to realize it, too.
He brings his gaze back to the man before him.]
Yes, of course.
[And with that, he leans in, allowing Astarion to close the gap. His kiss is not needy or wanton, not colored by the isolation he's endured on account of the orb; by most standards, it would be considered positively chaste. It's tender, lingering just long enough for him to get a taste of the vampire's lips.
Maybe he's making an ass out of himself, but feels he can have this, just for now.]
[Telling, yes. But Astarion just pockets that information away for later use. Gale's eager for this, hungry for it, and Astarion can use that hunger. He lets his eyes slip closed as he closes he space between them. There was no intention to make this something deeper in his mind, only a simple kiss. A taste of things to come, perhaps. And a little bit of a show of just how experienced he is at this. How he knows to slant his lips over Gale's, to let just the slightest hint of a hum reverberate through them as he draws away, his nose tracing lightly against Gale's cheek. He looks, half-lidded, up at Gale when the kiss ends. His lips are ever so slightly parted as the moment hangs in the air, his breath faint across Gale's skin.]
[In the academic sense, Gale can see exactly how it was Astarion was able to lure people to Cazador; the man is an immaculate kisser. Even with an embrace so tentative and brief, Gale can tell that much. He feels his face burn just a little deeper, and fights that ever-present want for more. If he can withstand the orb's hunger, he can surely tolerate his own.
[He's teasing, but there's that hint of a seductive purr undercutting it. He meets Gale's smile with his own, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind the very red tips of Gale's ears. How much more will Gale let him have, he wonders.]
But I'm happy to help if you'd like a little more.
[Astarion politely leans back to give him room, but he's very clearly pleased with himself. He reaches up to briefly touch his fingertips to his lips, savoring the lingering warmth of Gale on them, perhaps, before rising from his seat.]
Trust me, darling. I don't think that you'll wear it out any time soon.
[Gale relaxes as Astarion moves away, straightening his shirt as he rises from the padded seat. It's just a smidge warm in that tent.]
You severely underestimate my propensity for unintentional offense, but I will endeavor to stay in your good graces from now on. After all, I don't know who else I'd go to for beard advice.
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I don't linger on the thought of it. I'll either burn up in the sun, or spend the rest of eternity running from Cazador. Killing him matters more to me.
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He mentally files it away as one more problem to solve. He has plenty of his own issues to deal with, sure, but no easy solutions for any of them, save for following Mystra's commands. Perhaps, with what time he has, he can help the others instead. He can make himself useful - useful enough to keep. Obliterating himself along with the Netherbrain would have been far easier than what they'll likely be dealing with when they start digging into the city proper. He'd rather the rest of the party not ponder that, growing to resent him in the process.
Ah yes, don't linger on the thought of it they would insist, whether it's about Astarion's life beyond the tadpoles, or Gale's value as a person. Perhaps they're more similar than he thought.
Gale attempts to offer Astarion a reassuring look.]
Let's make sure we kill him then, and after that, we can worry about how you'll stay in the sun. But for now, I suppose we should tackle my beard. Seems best to start with the smallest step, and the one we know how to deal with.
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"We" can worry about that, is it?
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Well, yes. We might only be companions in this endeavor, but better we work together than alone, whether it's against tadpoles or tyrants.
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I assume I'm not the only one who will stand beside you when we face your former master. Karlach will surely be there. Wyll, too.
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But I meant the second part, darling. The sunlight.
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I can't guarantee anything, obviously, but I have been known to devise some phenomenal enchantments, when given the opportunity. And with what awaits in Baldur's Gate, perhaps a solution will appear sooner than we think— than you think, rather.
[That correction? That was a slip of the tongue.]
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While it's true he's actually found Gale quite charming in the time they've spent together, the thought of something more takes on a different shade in Astarion's view of their interactions. He's stunned by it, struck dumb for a moment, but silence only lets the worser parts of his instincts whisper louder at the back of his mind. He still should. It's what he's good at. It's the way that's worked, time and time again.]
Obviously.
[His reply is a beat too slow, his thoughts still trying to sort into some kind of order. He looks Gale over, sitting here with him, in his tent, asking his advice, his guidance, and gives him a smile that's just shy of being genuine.]
You know, now that we've tended to it, I think I rather like the rugged look on you.
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Really?
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[A beat.]
You are quite charming when given the chance, Gale of Waterdeep.
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I've been known to have my moments, when not talking superfluously - which, granted, is most of the time. Including now.
[Maybe he should have had that wine after all.]
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[He inclines his head just slightly towards Gale, a playful smile across his lips.]
If I asked you very nicely, would you let me kiss you?
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And yet, those little moments of empathy come floating back into his mind: of Astarion insisting he could do better than Mystra, arguing that he deserved to be treated as more than a goddess' plaything, knowing what it felt like to be changed and unrecognizable from who he used to be. Those felt real, sincere - and gave Gale a flicker of an emotion he's not sure he's truly felt in ages. Cautious as he is, he can't help but want to nurture that feeling, see where it leads. It's his natural curiosity at work.
He reminds himself that said curiosity has led him to disaster before. He avoids a direct answer, stalling as his mind turns.]
I'm frankly surprised you'd want to, given what an ass I made of myself the other day.
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[There's Astarion's real coping mechanisms coming into play. But he's well experienced enough with waving off yesterday's incidents so he can seize on today's opportunities to even bat an eye at it.]
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Perhaps he should indulge a little, if for no other reason than to distract himself from that grim thought. It's just a kiss. When was the last time he had one of those, felt though his physical body rather than the Weave? How long has it been since he allowed himself to believe that someone could see him as desirable?
Maybe Astarion is sweetening him up, or maybe he's feeling grateful to have someone to commiserate with for a change, and this is how he shows it. Maybe he's secretly lonely. Gale can relate to that an unfortunate amount.
He fights a moment of embarrassment. Astarion made that proposition seem so casual, and here he is, overthinking it.]
All right. [He tries to hide his nerves with a smirk, one more confident than he feels.] But only if you ask.
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Astarion leans a little closer, gently cupping Gale's cheek in one hand. He lets his voice quiet, to something softer and more intimate.]
May I kiss you, Gale? Please.
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He brings his gaze back to the man before him.]
Yes, of course.
[And with that, he leans in, allowing Astarion to close the gap. His kiss is not needy or wanton, not colored by the isolation he's endured on account of the orb; by most standards, it would be considered positively chaste. It's tender, lingering just long enough for him to get a taste of the vampire's lips.
Maybe he's making an ass out of himself, but feels he can have this, just for now.]
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He offers Astarion a grateful smile.]
I'm clearly out of practice.
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[He's teasing, but there's that hint of a seductive purr undercutting it. He meets Gale's smile with his own, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind the very red tips of Gale's ears. How much more will Gale let him have, he wonders.]
But I'm happy to help if you'd like a little more.
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A tempting offer, but I believe one is enough for me. I wouldn't want to wear out my welcome so soon after earning it back.
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Trust me, darling. I don't think that you'll wear it out any time soon.
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You severely underestimate my propensity for unintentional offense, but I will endeavor to stay in your good graces from now on. After all, I don't know who else I'd go to for beard advice.
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[He's setting about tidying up, though he pauses by the wine bottle to put a hand on the neck of it while giving Gale an over the shoulder look.]
Besides, you did say you would drink with me after I took care of you.
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