mystracal | 🔮 exsanguinated (with @sangwhine)

[He waves his hand, for want of something to do with it, before settling it at his side.]

A victory is still a victory, isn't it? She's still showered herself in the blood of your enemies, hasn't she?

Perhaps it's not the victory she hoped for because she knows it's not the end.

[He runs his thumb along Astarion's hand in his; he thinks he knows where this might be going.]

It's the end of Lorroakan. How could she not have wanted that victory?

Because it felt hollow if he's only one in a queue of people who would ensnare her for their own purposes. She got her victory over him, same as she did Balthazar, but she's not free.

She isn't the type to just cower in shadows at the thought of someone who might challenge her. If removing the man who would enslave her isn't freedom then what does it even mean to be free?

[He leans forward just a little, casting Astarion a sideways glance.]

You're worried about what this will mean for you once you kill Cazador, aren't you?

[Gale's hit it on the head, but Astarion still recoils from his fears being seen so clearly, painting them in such a stark light. Of course he's not worried about that. Why would he be worried?]

Darling, I'm not just going to kill Cazador. I will destroy everything he stands for. I will take everything that he wishes for himself and make it mine.

I will remove him and take the ascension I deserve.

Then what bothers you? If not that you fear the victory will be just as Aylin's - hollow, unsatisfying.

[He knows he's right. It's getting Astarion to admit it that's the real challenge.]

[The problem is, Astarion can be stubborn as an angry cat at times. And while everything leading up to this had seemed simple in his mind: seek Gale out, seek his comfort, it's now laced with the self-loathing and anger of knowing he was ignored, that he nearly fell back into old habits of seduction and manipulation.

He pulls his hand away from Gale's, sitting up straighter to remove every point of contact between them.]

How could it hollow to become one of the most powerful beings this world has ever known? How could it be dissatisfying to have the answer to every problem this curse presents in one simple step?

[Taken aback as Astarion moves from his side, Gale opens his mouth to answer, but ultimately hesitates. Fear gnaws at his heart. What if he ruins this new venture so soon, trying to solve every problem just to prove himself worthy of keeping?

He ruined things with Mystra in a similar fashion, after all, thinking he could solve everything.

This relationship with Astarion has only just begun, and the thought of losing it already makes his chest ache. He can prove himself once he has the crown, once he's able to help Astarion in ways that the gods never could, never would. Then, everything will be perfect.

Until then, he falls silent, his brow knitting, but his eyes never leaving Astarion.]

[Well that's just unnerving. Astarion didn't think he'd ever see the day where he unwittingly shocked Gale into silence. He doesn't like it. That isn't the response he wanted. He narrows his eyes in return, holding Gale's gaze.]

What in the hells is wrong with you? Say something. Don't just stare at me like I'm some street peddler begging for coin.

[His expression tightens further; he averts his gaze, trying to find his voice, wanting to vocalize his concerns.]

Are you afraid it will change you again? Not just into what the ritual promises, but... something even farther from who you are now?

That's the point of it. To change. To become something more powerful. So I won't need tadpoles or enchantments for protection or to walk in the sun.

[He looks away from Gale, staring down to his hands. He thinks of Dame Aylin, constantly pursued by wizards and necromancers alike. How even now, at any moment Cazador could come for him. It grips his throat, bubbling up and out of his lips before he can think to stop it.]

So--so I won't have to be afraid of anything ever again.

[Gale has to admit that the thought of having both an ascended vampire and the godlike powers he'll command is... thrilling, in a way. They'll be beings unlike any others, able take on absolutely anything: not just the Netherbrain and the Chosen of the Dead Three, but other gods, vampires, anyone who would rise against their might. They could control the world if they wanted to.

... but is that what they want? Is that what they need? Gale's good nature tempers his hunger, however temporarily: in that moment, he just wants Astarion to feel safe. He can promise that much.

He reaches for Astarion's hand to clasp it within both of his, shielding it from all else.]

It won't be like Aylin. With you and I as powerful as we'll be once Cazador is dead and I have the crown, no one would dare come for you.

[Astarion's hand twitches at the mention of the crown. But Gale's right. They'll be unstoppable. There's just one wrinkle in that plan to iron out.]

As long as that crown doesn't consume your every waking moment, love. I nearly had to throw myself between your legs to draw you away from it.

[He tries for a flippant tone, tossing the the thought aside so hopefully Gale doesn't catch on to how awful it felt.]

[Gale gestures dismissively with his free hand.]

It won't, I assure you. You needn't—

[He cuts himself off, Astarion's claim giving him a sudden moment of clarity, painting that earlier touch to his thigh in a far less flattering light. His expression softens, colored with unease as he casts Astarion a concerned look.]

You needn't have thrown yourself at me, but the fact that you felt you had to just to get my attention is a testament to how distracted I've been. It's unbecoming of me as a friend, and certainly as a partner - as your partner... no matter how good my intentions in the end. Here—

[He releases Astarion's hand and picks up the book, taking it with him across the tent. He sets it on the table, tossing a spare tunic atop it for good measure, hiding its presence entirely. With that, he returns to Astarion's side, offering him an apologetic smile.]

There. You have my full attention, I promise.

[It's a complicated series of thoughts that run through Astarion's face once Gale's back turns on him. First, the fact that Gale saw straight through him, that he understood the meaning veiled behind Astarion's words. Second, that he sought to correct it without a moment's hesitation. It's what Astarion wanted, in the end, but what he hadn't been able to admit, to put to words properly.

By the time Gale turns back to him, there's a gentle, lopsided smile on Astarion's face. He holds both hands out towards Gale, beckoning him closer.]

Come here, my dearest.

[Ah, there's the approval he so desperately wanted. It helps Gale know he's back on the right path. His head feels that much clearer - the book is out of sight, and thus out of mind, relatively speaking.

He takes Astarion's hands, settling next to him.]

You know, I like the sound of that. Dearest.

[Astarion pulls him closer, kissing each hand in turn before he releases one to cup Gale's cheek, his thumb brushing along the line of his jaw.]

There's no one else I could think of who would claim the title. Even in the moments when you make me wonder how a man so well read can't seem to read a mark to save his life. You are still my dearest Gale.

I read books, not people. I'll leave the latter to you.

[He leans into Astarion's hand; from the feel of it, he's been keeping his beard more maintained than usual, right down to the oil.]

You're the only one I need to understand. And more importantly, keep my promises to.

I've been quite pleasantly surprised at how well you understand me.

[He does notice that change, it makes running his fingers along Gale's beard a much more pleasant experience.]

[Gods, he loves that feeling.]

I'm sure the others would, were you to let them in. To help them understand.

They a charmingly empathetic group when you stumble through their various fortifications, aren't they? But we were talking about you.

And you were talking about Aylin, and your fears.

[They were talking about that, weren't they? Astarion lets his hand trail down to Gale's chest, his palm pressing lightly over his heart, the orb.]

It hasn't quite grown to a fear yet, only an unease. A discomfort.

[He pauses, looking down at his hand to gather his thoughts.]

What if I kill him, take his power, and nothing changes? What if I still don't know how to give you what I want to give you?

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