He drags his hands down his face. Trying to debate the intricacies of the
orb while still partially erect was not how he expected to spend any part
of his night.
"Mystra doesn't control the orb, certainly not like that. I thought it was
a lost piece of the Weave, which I sought to return to her, but it is
something else, something malignant." He does his best to retain his
professional, knowledgeable, professor tone despite the absurdity of the
conversation. "Past, er, experiences suggest that dreams aren't sufficient
stimuli to cause problems with the orb. And I'm not dignifying the other
question with a response."
"For the record, this is also an important part of your medical history."
She reaches out and trails her fingers over the visible wisps of the mark. Her eyes trace the faint glow, and then drift lower.
"You can't." She worries her lower lip between her teeth. Her expression is clearly wondering if it might be worth detonation anyway. "But you do want to?"
"Blow up the city? No, I'd rather not. Tara does live here, you know." A joke, just a moment to stall, but not because he doesn't take her question seriously. The hesitation to answer genuinely is only to work up the nerve, to decide how best to explain his mind.
He lifts his hand to place it over hers. "Were circumstances different, I would want to have a conversation about the matter, to ensure we were on the same page. As I've mentioned, I don't engage in such activities lightly, though I do not judge those who care to indulge in a more casual nature. I did try such... informal arrangements, as a younger man, but it did not suit me, I'm afraid. So I would want to make sure we... see each other in the same light." Could she love him? Does she love him? Has she run out of jokes, or is this just another fun time? He could have used fewer words to ask, but that's not really his style. "For my part, I find you resplendent. Whoever gave you the idea you were stupid is a buffoon of the highest order. You have been a guiding star when darkness would have swallowed me whole, and more than anything else, I need you to know that."
He calls her resplendent and a guiding star and still finds it impossible to consider that her affection is anything more than a jest.
He also says shit like buffoon, but they can't all be winners.
She turns her hand under his to link their fingers together and leans forward until they are almost touching again.
"You seem to be very bad at listening, or maybe because you don't take me seriously you can't imagine I ever say anything plainly. So I'm going to say it again and you better listen this time. I love you, Gale Dekarios, and I'm going to marry you for real."
He dips his head until their foreheads touch. "It's not that." At least not really. He had assumed that she was joking over and over, but not because he didn't listen or take her seriously. "It's just... You deserve someone who can give you everything you want." He doesn't just mean sex. "If only you'd met me at my prime. Gale of Waterdeep, Archmage, Chosen of Mystra, a wizard of exceptional power and renown. Why bother with a dimming shadow? Why marry someone who's dying?" He's never actually said it out loud before, but as terrible as it is, it's almost a relief, like finally realizing how a poem should end.
"I'm still a blowhard, but I must inform you that I'm also a very strong swimmer, so I would only return."
I love you now. The answer struggling to surface is a simple why?, but he swallows it until he's sure it won't reemerge, at least for now. "I love you too. I'm sorry about... everything. If things were different, I would woo you properly, but I shall endeavor to do as much as I can with the time I am given."
She cups his face like something precious, the way he touches her, and runs her thumb over the angle of his jaw.
"Stop talking about if things were different. We live the life we're in now, and yours isn't over yet."
She kisses him fully on the mouth, but it's soft and sweet.
"And if physical intimacy is something you're interested in, there might be a brilliant and gorgeous doctor nearby with some very clever ideas. But for tonight, how about you make some tea and we talk on the balcony?"
"But I--" Her kiss stops him in his tracks and lingers long enough to erase whatever counterpoints he was working up to.
He laughs and a blush creeps up across his cheeks. "Well! Who am I to argue with a brilliant and gorgeous doctor?" Though he's hesitant to disentangle himself from her, he'll do whatever she asks of him, from now until his end.
Oh his way out of the room, he stops to assess and restack the books he had knocked over then, satisfied with that, proceeds to the kitchen.
When he returns, it's with two teacups and a well loved quilt thrown over his shoulder. He passes her one -- tea with honey, lemon, and a little bourbon -- and then gestures for her to have a seat on the bench so he can drape the blanket over both of them as they sit.
She settles into a cozy nest with her ... Well, her whatever he is now. Whatever they are. That's one of the things they should probably talk about.
One hand carefully holds the teacup and the other slides into his hand, arms looped together so she can tuck against his side. Her head rests on his shoulder and she sighs happily.
This was her own idea, but now that they are settled and ready for a conversation, she just wants to fold the quiet moment around themselves and live here a while.
For a while, they just sit quietly like that, listening to the waves, sipping tea, but of course that can never last for long with Gale.
"I just need to say one thing. And you don't have to talk about it, I'm not asking questions, just making a statement." When he glances sidelong at her, in the moonlight, she looks like a marble statue. "When I said to stop and you pulled back, you looked upset and... almost afraid? And I need for you to know that you never, ever have to be afraid of me." He squeezes her hand.
She glances back at him, and has to fight to keep her face neutral. She sucks air between her teeth. His hand is warm and careful around hers.
"It's not that I'm afraid of you, but..." The arm looped through his tightens against her body. He's an anchor. "I don't know many people who are kind."
She forces herself to breathe evenly, trying to exhale the rising tension.
"And I never thought that someone kind would want me."
"I'm sorry that life has been like that for you thus far." Anger at everyone who hurt her, and the sorrow it leaves behind when it fades, make the orb flicker just once, though he doesn't notice. "But we live the life we're in now, and so long as I'm here, you will never want for kindness, I swear it. Because you deserve it."
She's quiet for a long while, until she finishes the tea. She only moves away from him to set the cup on the table and when she settles back she hugs his arm tightly and brings her legs up across his lap.
She doesn't believe she deserves much of anything good, but he means it when he says she does. So she decides to put her trust in that.
"I'm from Daggerford, originally. I don't remember my mother, and all my father told me about her was that she was beautiful and that she left him because of me." It's another thing that's hard to say when his eyes get so sad, so she turns her face to his shoulder again. "He used to leave me places, but I was good at finding my way home. I thought it was a game we played and that he would get mad because I won. Eventually he took me all the way to Baldur's Gate because it was much too far for a child to walk back and he left me in the Temple District. Figured one of them would take in strays. I was six, maybe seven? So since the start, most people who get to know me decide I'm too much trouble to keep."
If she doesn't want to see him look sad, then it's a good thing she doesn't look at him while she explains all this.
"When adults fail children, it says more about them. That wasn't your fault." He's not good at sitting still, so now what he's finished with his tea, he runs the hand not holding hers up and down her legs in his lap like he's trying to warm her up, except he hardly notices he's doing it.
"I was near that age when my father stopped turning back up. He was a sailor, and my parents were never married, so it's hardly surprising -- downright banal, even." He lifts a hand to make a dismissive gesture, like ending a spell or shooing away a troublesome fly. "In your professional opinion, would you say the same of me? That it was because I was too much trouble to keep?" Except maybe he understands better than he's letting on, because that's sort of exactly what he's always thought, deep down. "In my opinion, their failures don't define you, your survival does."
"I think you're right. I know you're right. But sometimes things that aren't true still feel real, especially things we learn as children."
She sighs warm against the side of his neck. He can feel the tension melt from her as his hands run over her legs. Damn it all, she should have worn a skirt today.
"What I mean to say is that when I flinch, it's not because of you. It's just ... Ghosts, you know?"
"I understand," he replies, leaning sideways to press a little closer, "And I'll help in any way I can." As much as she'll allow for as long as he can. "When you're being haunted, I'm still right here with you."
"If it helps, I've spent little time with anyone who took an interest for reasons unrelated to my magical prowess, so I'm at a bit of a loss. I'll just have to come up with other ways to charm you." He means this all as a light hearted joke, not realizing that it's a little telling and a little sad.
"Rest assured, I'm charmed." Somehow. Inexplicably. The heart is a mystery. She brings their joined hands up to brush her lips across his knuckles.
"Do you know, I almost didn't come to Waterdeep at all? And I was thinking about going back to Baldur's Gate when Tara hit me with that fireball. Funny how fast things change."
"And I'm going to endeavor to keep you charmed," he replies with a smitten little smile that suggests he's already spinning up ideas for how to retroactively woo her like he'd talked about.
"I never asked you what you were doing in Waterdeep to begin with, though I had wondered. It's the City of Splendors, yes, but also a city full to bursting with condescending, pretentious, shitty wizards," he says, grinning as he quotes her.
"And they're still looking?" He pauses, deliberating on whether he wants to continue. "He's still looking?" It still feels against the rules to bring up her former lover, still ominously unnamed, but he reasons that if they're going to do this -- whatever this is -- then such things cannot remain taboo.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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That's sobering.
Her palm presses against his heartbeat, and she looks mildly confused and then baffled as she puts the pieces together.
"Your goddess ex lover doesn't let you come? That's fucked up!"
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She crosses her arms and raises a skeptical eyebrow. All of a sudden she's sober and unkissed and the gods themselves are running her good time.
"Are you going to explode if you have a sexy dream? Do you not get to ... self service?"
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He drags his hands down his face. Trying to debate the intricacies of the orb while still partially erect was not how he expected to spend any part of his night.
"Mystra doesn't control the orb, certainly not like that. I thought it was a lost piece of the Weave, which I sought to return to her, but it is something else, something malignant." He does his best to retain his professional, knowledgeable, professor tone despite the absurdity of the conversation. "Past, er, experiences suggest that dreams aren't sufficient stimuli to cause problems with the orb. And I'm not dignifying the other question with a response."
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She reaches out and trails her fingers over the visible wisps of the mark. Her eyes trace the faint glow, and then drift lower.
"You can't." She worries her lower lip between her teeth. Her expression is clearly wondering if it might be worth detonation anyway. "But you do want to?"
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He lifts his hand to place it over hers. "Were circumstances different, I would want to have a conversation about the matter, to ensure we were on the same page. As I've mentioned, I don't engage in such activities lightly, though I do not judge those who care to indulge in a more casual nature. I did try such... informal arrangements, as a younger man, but it did not suit me, I'm afraid. So I would want to make sure we... see each other in the same light." Could she love him? Does she love him? Has she run out of jokes, or is this just another fun time? He could have used fewer words to ask, but that's not really his style. "For my part, I find you resplendent. Whoever gave you the idea you were stupid is a buffoon of the highest order. You have been a guiding star when darkness would have swallowed me whole, and more than anything else, I need you to know that."
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He also says shit like buffoon, but they can't all be winners.
She turns her hand under his to link their fingers together and leans forward until they are almost touching again.
"You seem to be very bad at listening, or maybe because you don't take me seriously you can't imagine I ever say anything plainly. So I'm going to say it again and you better listen this time. I love you, Gale Dekarios, and I'm going to marry you for real."
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"I probably would have thought you were a real blowhard and pushed you off a dock." And that's if she were feeling charitable.
"I met you now. I love you now."
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I love you now. The answer struggling to surface is a simple why?, but he swallows it until he's sure it won't reemerge, at least for now. "I love you too. I'm sorry about... everything. If things were different, I would woo you properly, but I shall endeavor to do as much as I can with the time I am given."
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"Stop talking about if things were different. We live the life we're in now, and yours isn't over yet."
She kisses him fully on the mouth, but it's soft and sweet.
"And if physical intimacy is something you're interested in, there might be a brilliant and gorgeous doctor nearby with some very clever ideas. But for tonight, how about you make some tea and we talk on the balcony?"
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He laughs and a blush creeps up across his cheeks. "Well! Who am I to argue with a brilliant and gorgeous doctor?" Though he's hesitant to disentangle himself from her, he'll do whatever she asks of him, from now until his end.
Oh his way out of the room, he stops to assess and restack the books he had knocked over then, satisfied with that, proceeds to the kitchen.
When he returns, it's with two teacups and a well loved quilt thrown over his shoulder. He passes her one -- tea with honey, lemon, and a little bourbon -- and then gestures for her to have a seat on the bench so he can drape the blanket over both of them as they sit.
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One hand carefully holds the teacup and the other slides into his hand, arms looped together so she can tuck against his side. Her head rests on his shoulder and she sighs happily.
This was her own idea, but now that they are settled and ready for a conversation, she just wants to fold the quiet moment around themselves and live here a while.
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"I just need to say one thing. And you don't have to talk about it, I'm not asking questions, just making a statement." When he glances sidelong at her, in the moonlight, she looks like a marble statue. "When I said to stop and you pulled back, you looked upset and... almost afraid? And I need for you to know that you never, ever have to be afraid of me." He squeezes her hand.
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"It's not that I'm afraid of you, but..." The arm looped through his tightens against her body. He's an anchor. "I don't know many people who are kind."
She forces herself to breathe evenly, trying to exhale the rising tension.
"And I never thought that someone kind would want me."
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She doesn't believe she deserves much of anything good, but he means it when he says she does. So she decides to put her trust in that.
"I'm from Daggerford, originally. I don't remember my mother, and all my father told me about her was that she was beautiful and that she left him because of me." It's another thing that's hard to say when his eyes get so sad, so she turns her face to his shoulder again. "He used to leave me places, but I was good at finding my way home. I thought it was a game we played and that he would get mad because I won. Eventually he took me all the way to Baldur's Gate because it was much too far for a child to walk back and he left me in the Temple District. Figured one of them would take in strays. I was six, maybe seven? So since the start, most people who get to know me decide I'm too much trouble to keep."
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"When adults fail children, it says more about them. That wasn't your fault." He's not good at sitting still, so now what he's finished with his tea, he runs the hand not holding hers up and down her legs in his lap like he's trying to warm her up, except he hardly notices he's doing it.
"I was near that age when my father stopped turning back up. He was a sailor, and my parents were never married, so it's hardly surprising -- downright banal, even." He lifts a hand to make a dismissive gesture, like ending a spell or shooing away a troublesome fly. "In your professional opinion, would you say the same of me? That it was because I was too much trouble to keep?" Except maybe he understands better than he's letting on, because that's sort of exactly what he's always thought, deep down. "In my opinion, their failures don't define you, your survival does."
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She sighs warm against the side of his neck. He can feel the tension melt from her as his hands run over her legs. Damn it all, she should have worn a skirt today.
"What I mean to say is that when I flinch, it's not because of you. It's just ... Ghosts, you know?"
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"If it helps, I've spent little time with anyone who took an interest for reasons unrelated to my magical prowess, so I'm at a bit of a loss. I'll just have to come up with other ways to charm you." He means this all as a light hearted joke, not realizing that it's a little telling and a little sad.
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"Do you know, I almost didn't come to Waterdeep at all? And I was thinking about going back to Baldur's Gate when Tara hit me with that fireball. Funny how fast things change."
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"I never asked you what you were doing in Waterdeep to begin with, though I had wondered. It's the City of Splendors, yes, but also a city full to bursting with condescending, pretentious, shitty wizards," he says, grinning as he quotes her.
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"The bigger the city, the easier to disappear. Nobody who knows me would think I'd come here, because of all the shitty wizards and I can't swim."
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She frowns a little and looks out over the dark waves, as though she might see all the way to Baldur's Gate and her tormentor's intentions.
"He doesn't think of me much, but when he does..." She sighs and turns to him with a rueful little smile. "Well, he has a hard time letting go."
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