🔮 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]

[Gale nods, a touch somber.]

Sound advice. I'll tell you what: if I ever look like I'm going to setting my heart up to be shattered like a priceless urn on a rickety shelf, I trust you'll tell me.

[sangwhine]

You can be sure I'll be the first to let you know.

[He brushes thumb across the back of Gale's hand. Just feeling this warmth is soothing, knowing there's no expectation for anything else.]

when you notice a typo in your last tag and die a little inside

[mystracal]

[For as worried as he is about it at times, Gale's heart feels lighter than it has in ages; he revels in the coolness of Astarion's skin against his own, his wine-addled mind turning on how he'd like to spend more time together. He imagines watching the vampire unwind before him, discovering who the real Astarion is deep down after all this time. It's a good thought, and one he cherishes immediately.]

Well, I think I've talked your ear off enough. What would you like to do now? You decide.

[sangwhine]

I'd rather like more of your company. Listening to you go on about abjuration or conjuration or what have you is quite charming.

[He pauses a moment, smiling a little wider.]

I have thought of kissing you again. With no expectations of anything more to follow.

[mystracal]

[And that gets the biggest grin of all from the Wizard of Waterdeep. Gods, he's smitten. He's in such trouble. Didn't he just say he was going to be more careful with his heart? Wasn't he angry at this man the other night? Hells, he spent the morning with him as a literal sheep. Tara won't know what to say about him going from heartbreak with a goddess to utterly enamored with a vampire.]

I'd like that. I know the pretense under which the first one was made was less than ideal, but I have admittedly thought about it myself. A lot. And how much I rather enjoyed it.

[He can feel how red his face is, his skin just beneath his eyes and across his nose on fire. That is definitely the wine talking. And talking. And still talking.]

[sangwhine]

[Perish the thought that anything short of a spell can silence Gale Dekarios. Astarion does like the look of him when he's all flushed and grinning. and knowing there'll be nothing more than this, no expectations, no need to give himself fully away does set his heart at ease. He gives a gentle tug to Gale's hand, drawing him closer.]

Then let me give you more to think about.

[mystracal]

[That little tug shuts him up; his eyes meet Astarion's, his grin shifting toward confidence. While Gale can come off as awkward and a bit reserved when it comes to romantic intention (ah, the perils of having one's entire self-worth utterly demolished by a combination of their own bad decisions and their former goddess-lover), between the drink and their newfound honesty, he's feeling bolder than ever.]

Gladly.

[He leans forward, once again letting Astarion close the gap between them, though this time, it's purposeful: he wants his companion to have the agency to decide that this is, indeed, what he wants. That feels significant, important when knowing that he was controlled by his former master for so long, unable to choose what he wanted for himself, how he wanted to use his body. Now, he can. Gale wants him to know that, to feel it for himself.

As for the wizard, he's happy to let the kiss linger for as long as Astarion would like. He's more impassioned this time around, sure that his smile can be felt right down to his lips; he enjoys it wholeheartedly, still grinning from ear to ear when they part.]

[sangwhine]

[Astarion is all too happy to close that gap. His free hand finds its way to the nape of Gale's neck, gently holding him there as they kiss. It's no less chaste than the first one they shared, only the shift of lips against lips. But it means Astarion's able to feel the full shape of Gale's smile against his own, able to savor it. His eyes slip closed as they kiss, his mind fading into a warm haze. It feels good, it feels right. There's no curl of disgust or loathing in his gut, only the slightly sour taste of the wine on Gale's lips.

He doesn't pull far away when they part, his thumb softly drawing a line along the skin of Gale's neck just below his ear.]

I don't know if I could ever grow tired of that.

[mystracal]

[Gale still has Astarion's other hand clasped in his own, his fingers taking in the texture of his skin as he holds onto it like it's a precious treasure. His own hands tend to be comparatively rough for a wizard, with traces of ash from consistent magic use caught under his nails, old paper cuts and electric shocks having healed over into barely perceptible, uneven scars along his fingertips. For not the first time, he leans into Astarion's touch, soaking it in.]

I know I won't. If you so desired, you could kiss me every single day for the rest of my life, and I doubt I would ever tire of it. As it stands, I can hardly find the words to describe it, or how it made me feel, other than... elated. Absolutely, utterly elated.

[sangwhine]

Elated sounds like poetry to me.

[Astarion shifts his hand slightly in Gale's grasp, slotting his fingers between Gale's to hold him a bit more properly. He's taken note of the little imperfections in his fingertips, his palm, stories written on the skin that Astarion would love to read at a later time. But not yet, not for now.]

I think that every day of the rest of your life is something I can accommodate.

[mystracal]

[He chuckles, cutting a devilish grin as he gives Astarion's hand a squeeze.]

Feeling generous, are you? I could live a very long time, you know.

[sangwhine]

I have two centuries to make up for. I think that I can manage your lifetime, wizard of Waterdeep.

[mystracal]

I'll have you know Elminster is nearly thirteen centuries old. That could be me.

[sangwhine]

Do I need to remind you that I am technically immortal, darling?

[mystracal]

So you're saying you'll keep your word if I live that long?

[sangwhine]

[He draws the hand at the nape of Gale's neck down to his chin, catching it in his grip so he can lean in and steal another quick kiss.]

Obviously.

[mystracal]

[And Gale is happy to let him have another. When they part this time, he keeps close, gently pressing his forehead to Astarion's and letting himself simply drink him in. Astarion's skin is cool against his, soothing; he feels feverish in that moment, and silently prays that this isn't some dream his sheep form is having. If he wakes up to find that none of this has happened and that he has grass in his mouth again, his displeasure will be immeasurable.]

Well, you did say you'd tell me the truth from now on. I've no choice but to believe you, no matter how much of a rogue you may seem.

[sangwhine]

[Likewise, the warmth of Gale's skin bleeding into Astarion is comforting. This close he can hear the beat of Gale's heat, feel the blood it gives him. He pulls away slightly, only because it's difficult to gesticulate when he's forehead to forehead with Gale.]

I'd like to think that I'm a very honest rogue, thank you very much.

[mystracal]

If nothing else, you are ever the scoundrel. I daresay it's a part of your charm.

[He brings Astarion's hand, still held in his, to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Just one more - he can't help himself.]

Do we... [Oh, he's had too much wine to work out logistics, but his brain is trying anyway.] Do we tell the others? Do you think they'll notice?

[sangwhine]

[Astarion hesitates a moment, squeezing Gale's hand in a soft pulse.]

Did you want to keep this a secret? I think they're likely to find out. Knowing how nosy they all are.

[mystracal]

[There's how nosy the rest of their companions are, and then there's the Gale Doesn't Talk About The Object of his Affections Challenge (Impossible).]

I only ask for your comfort. I'd sing it from the rooftops if we had any nearby. To say I don't particularly hide my feelings well is a vast understatement, for better and for worse.

[sangwhine]

I'm not one to turn down the offer of a serenade.

[He draws Gale's hand to his lips, echoing the kiss to his knuckles.]

It doesn't bother me at all.

[mystracal]

You might regret it when they're sending you their condolences.

[It's a self-deprecating jab, but he meant it well. His head might be in a bit of a dizzy haze, but he's feeling energized, his heart thudding away in his chest alongside the pulse of the orb.]

Now, unless you have better plans, I think we should make ourselves comfortable, and then I'm going to regale you with all the abjuration I've been studying so that you may walk in the sun, sans tadpole.

[Don't think for one second that he forgot about that, Astarion. Dedicating his time to solving a very specific problem for his paramour is Gale's idea of high romance.]

[sangwhine]

Oh, they'll certainly know if you spend the night regaling me with arcana whilst we lounge upon my bedroll. That's nothing short of a declaration of undying love for your sort, isn't it?

[He's teasing as he says it, but he's still tugging on Gale's hand towards said bedroll. Astarion sets about making himself comfortable, propping his head up with a few pillows, but he releases his hold on Gale so the wizard can position himself as he sees fit.]

[mystracal]

I could think of far more elaborate ways to show my devotion, were I not so tipsy. I'm starting to think that was all a part of your plan for the evening.

[Gale allows himself to be tugged toward the bedroll, but upon seeing there aren't nearly enough pillows, he conjures half a dozen more with a wave of his hand. They poof into existence, and he sets himself up a comfy spot leaning against a few, leaving a spot for Astarion next to him, should he want to move closer.]