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corporeity) wrote2024-11-12 12:45 pm
corporeity) wrote2024-11-12 12:45 pm
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[ Eager to please, Gale watches Armand smile with some satisfaction. Glad to have successfully guided them both back to shore, perhaps, even as the tides of melancholia continue to swirl. Armand names yet another side effect of immortality to ponder. The distance of time multiplied ad infinitum.
Only that, too, dissipates under the brightness of his affection for Astarion, shadows scattering at the first rays of the sun. ]
Ah! I suppose it is new. [ His mouth quirks, helplessly fond. ] It both feels that way and doesnāt, at times.
[ New for the way Astarion delights and surprises even himself, taken aback by his own interest and softness. The bubble of laughter that Gale wants to bottle, a cure for even his most sorrowful bouts. But the comfort Gale finds in their closeness seems much older, aged and strengthened by all theyāve been through together.
His hand strays to the diamond earring Astarion gifted him, worn in place of Mystraās token since the New Year. ]
[ bashful, ] Regardless, itās rather wonderful.
Only that, too, dissipates under the brightness of his affection for Astarion, shadows scattering at the first rays of the sun. ]
Ah! I suppose it is new. [ His mouth quirks, helplessly fond. ] It both feels that way and doesnāt, at times.
[ New for the way Astarion delights and surprises even himself, taken aback by his own interest and softness. The bubble of laughter that Gale wants to bottle, a cure for even his most sorrowful bouts. But the comfort Gale finds in their closeness seems much older, aged and strengthened by all theyāve been through together.
His hand strays to the diamond earring Astarion gifted him, worn in place of Mystraās token since the New Year. ]
[ bashful, ] Regardless, itās rather wonderful.
[ The brightness of that loving joy is like a flame that Armand longs to plunge his hand into just to feel the burn, as if the pain can replace the warmth that has deserted his own soul. Once again, he misses Daniel with a physical ache, misses what he had with Louis so long ago, the simple happiness of every mortal or immortal who has ever found someone to share their days and nights and hoped it would be forever.
Like an addict watching someone else get their fix, he can't look away from it. Has to singe himself a little more, a vague attempt at a smile on his face, remembering waterlogged tenderness and the feeling of Gale's mouth on his. ]
Yet he hasn't tasted you.
[ He can tell that much, the marks on Gale's throat the product of a far less deserving vampire, the placement over his carotid a dog's hurried bite rather than the refined evidence of loving teeth. ]
Like an addict watching someone else get their fix, he can't look away from it. Has to singe himself a little more, a vague attempt at a smile on his face, remembering waterlogged tenderness and the feeling of Gale's mouth on his. ]
Yet he hasn't tasted you.
[ He can tell that much, the marks on Gale's throat the product of a far less deserving vampire, the placement over his carotid a dog's hurried bite rather than the refined evidence of loving teeth. ]
[ Gale chokes on air, chopsticks fumbling a pick and lift of his next bite. He coughs into his palm to recover. Tasted, of course, has multiple meanings in the context of his relationship with Astarion ā most of which return the same answer. It isnāt a point of contention or uncertainty, mind, merely a fact. ]
Ah ā no. [ Colour high in his cheeks. ] What an observation.
[ Made fairly, when he wouldnāt think Astarion as careless as Spike, though heās likely been hungrier for longer. Armand has insight into his every thought, besides, and Gale hasnāt expelled him from his mind since that first day.
He touches the marks, mouth taut, and averts his gaze. ]
This was ā [ He hesitates, preferring not to speak ill of one who has apologised. ] A chance encounter. [ Softer, then, as he moves his food around the plate: ] I do worry Iāve soured, however, on account of my affliction. [ mournfully, ] To be expected of a dying creature, I suppose.
[ Because he is dying, even with potential clemency in sight. Only true forgiveness at Mystraās gossamer fingertips, or godhood clutched in his own, will spare him. ]
Ah ā no. [ Colour high in his cheeks. ] What an observation.
[ Made fairly, when he wouldnāt think Astarion as careless as Spike, though heās likely been hungrier for longer. Armand has insight into his every thought, besides, and Gale hasnāt expelled him from his mind since that first day.
He touches the marks, mouth taut, and averts his gaze. ]
This was ā [ He hesitates, preferring not to speak ill of one who has apologised. ] A chance encounter. [ Softer, then, as he moves his food around the plate: ] I do worry Iāve soured, however, on account of my affliction. [ mournfully, ] To be expected of a dying creature, I suppose.
[ Because he is dying, even with potential clemency in sight. Only true forgiveness at Mystraās gossamer fingertips, or godhood clutched in his own, will spare him. ]
[ Strange, to think of a vampire so capable of controlling their hunger, to have withheld himself from even a sip -- but then, Astarion is not a vampire like other vampires, never human even as a mortal. Armand studies Gale as he gathers himself and wonders if Astarion would even be significant within his own kind, a singular force of will.
As Gale touches his throat with his fingertips, Armand toys with the rim of his glass, gaze lingering thoughtfully on those small scars. He doesn't appear to be effected by the admission of mortality, already aware of the hot void hollowing Gale out from within. It has been a foundation of his understanding since he was turned: to be mortal is to die. His pity would be a thin and useless thing, not to mention hypocritical, given the corpses stacked in his wake. ]
Sickness will taint the blood. Pain, trauma, sadness, deprivation. As we take the blood, we take everything that comes with it. [ He frowns, pensive. ] My maker drained me as I lay dying, but it was under desperate circumstances.
[ His gaze is steady, searching Gale's expression. ]
Would you like me to try it, and tell you what I think?
As Gale touches his throat with his fingertips, Armand toys with the rim of his glass, gaze lingering thoughtfully on those small scars. He doesn't appear to be effected by the admission of mortality, already aware of the hot void hollowing Gale out from within. It has been a foundation of his understanding since he was turned: to be mortal is to die. His pity would be a thin and useless thing, not to mention hypocritical, given the corpses stacked in his wake. ]
Sickness will taint the blood. Pain, trauma, sadness, deprivation. As we take the blood, we take everything that comes with it. [ He frowns, pensive. ] My maker drained me as I lay dying, but it was under desperate circumstances.
[ His gaze is steady, searching Gale's expression. ]
Would you like me to try it, and tell you what I think?
[ He hadnāt thought of blood as such a holistic, revealing element of his person. It stands to reason that there are several factors that make Gale unappetising, then, from the Netherese blight nestled above his heart to the lifelong melancholia in his veins. His magic must surely have an outsized impact, as powerful as it is consumptive.
It fascinates enough that heās tempted by Armandās offer for reasons both academic and personal ā wouldnāt it be better, to know for certain before Astarion indulges? Gale would rather avoid being the source of hurt or discomfort for one so treasured, even for a brief moment. ]
Always an honour to be invited into your head, for a change.
[ To hear his honest thoughts, on anything at all. He looks down at the blue-green veins in his wrist, pensive, but his hand strays to the purple leylines that trail his throat. ]
Perhaps another day, if Astarion does not mind it. Iāll admit Iām curious, but Iāve promised him the right of first refusal for my most peculiar vintage ā [ He lifts his gaze, eyes sparking with amusement. ] And Iām learning youāre something of a territorial bunch, arenāt you.
[ Vampires, that is. Heās not so naive, after witnessing the triad in play at the manor and learning how Astarion accosted Spike, on his behalf. His smile remains easy, at once friendly and flattered. ]
āDid you wish him to change you?
It fascinates enough that heās tempted by Armandās offer for reasons both academic and personal ā wouldnāt it be better, to know for certain before Astarion indulges? Gale would rather avoid being the source of hurt or discomfort for one so treasured, even for a brief moment. ]
Always an honour to be invited into your head, for a change.
[ To hear his honest thoughts, on anything at all. He looks down at the blue-green veins in his wrist, pensive, but his hand strays to the purple leylines that trail his throat. ]
Perhaps another day, if Astarion does not mind it. Iāll admit Iām curious, but Iāve promised him the right of first refusal for my most peculiar vintage ā [ He lifts his gaze, eyes sparking with amusement. ] And Iām learning youāre something of a territorial bunch, arenāt you.
[ Vampires, that is. Heās not so naive, after witnessing the triad in play at the manor and learning how Astarion accosted Spike, on his behalf. His smile remains easy, at once friendly and flattered. ]
āDid you wish him to change you?
[ A not so surprising answer, and an astute observation from Gale. Armand only lifts his eyebrows a little, acknowledging the point as its scored. He can't deny that his kind have a tendency to lay claim to the things they want, ancient hunting instincts they've never managed to shake off. One of the many reasons the Great Laws had forbidden congress with mortals -- that, and the tendency for the vampire heart to be far more fragile than it appears.
With a twinge of said heart, Armand's expression cools a little, holding on to his silence for a single pointed moment before he allows the change of subject, reaching for his glass for a swallow of tepid blood before he answers, not looking at Gale when he speaks. ]
My memories from that time are.. fractured. Difficult to hold onto. But I believe I.. I begged him for it, endlessly. His mercy. His gifts. Once I discovered what he was, I only wanted to be with him forever. He saved me. [ His tone warms, becomes almost reverent. Still devoted, even after all this time. His accent slips a little, becoming something else. ] Not just then, but before, when I -- he took me from a brothel. At fifteen, I believe, though I don't know for sure how old I was -- how old he was. Arun. That was my name before, I think, I don't remember it for certain. Stolen from his homeland as a child. A good little slave. A good little..
[ His words falter, his jaw working as he closes his mouth on the word he was going to use, a foul word that that had shaped Arun -- shaped Amadeo, shaped Armand. He struggles with it for a few beats, then continues, looking up at Gale with bright and shining eyes. ]
Yes, I wished for him to change me. For I had already been changed, against my will. So many times. Over and over. Raw metal hammered into a shape I did not understand. But he could give me something that nobody else ever could. And he let me choose. He let me want it, do you understand? I never wanted anything as much as I wanted him. To be him. To be with him. And now I am what he made me, and it has been five hundred years since I last saw him, before he was taken from me.
With a twinge of said heart, Armand's expression cools a little, holding on to his silence for a single pointed moment before he allows the change of subject, reaching for his glass for a swallow of tepid blood before he answers, not looking at Gale when he speaks. ]
My memories from that time are.. fractured. Difficult to hold onto. But I believe I.. I begged him for it, endlessly. His mercy. His gifts. Once I discovered what he was, I only wanted to be with him forever. He saved me. [ His tone warms, becomes almost reverent. Still devoted, even after all this time. His accent slips a little, becoming something else. ] Not just then, but before, when I -- he took me from a brothel. At fifteen, I believe, though I don't know for sure how old I was -- how old he was. Arun. That was my name before, I think, I don't remember it for certain. Stolen from his homeland as a child. A good little slave. A good little..
[ His words falter, his jaw working as he closes his mouth on the word he was going to use, a foul word that that had shaped Arun -- shaped Amadeo, shaped Armand. He struggles with it for a few beats, then continues, looking up at Gale with bright and shining eyes. ]
Yes, I wished for him to change me. For I had already been changed, against my will. So many times. Over and over. Raw metal hammered into a shape I did not understand. But he could give me something that nobody else ever could. And he let me choose. He let me want it, do you understand? I never wanted anything as much as I wanted him. To be him. To be with him. And now I am what he made me, and it has been five hundred years since I last saw him, before he was taken from me.
[ Gale watches Armand process and accept his answer, too observant, too learned not to know what Gale might say, in weighing the offer ā that it would surely hurt Astarion, as one of his kind. He does not think Armand cruel, but ā heās certainly inclined to push, beyond those boundaries humans would consider acceptable. Another byproduct of eternity, perhaps. Of unrestrained power.
Armandās explanation, however, proves humbling. A beginning not so different from Astarionās, though the timelines and mechanics differ in the details. Arun, he sounds out in his mind, knowing Armand will hear it as if spoken aloud. Memorising the shape of it. A good little slave, the word alone making him flinch, though he dares not look away. Gale could identify reverence, absolute devotion, even while blind, while insensate. Immediately, he understands. ]
When you were fifteen. [ Mystra appeared to him long before that, but it was then that she named him Chosen, a token glittering in her transluscent palm. For Arun, he was fifteen and already abused by the world. Fifteen and still naĆÆve, surely, about the nature of eternity. Of belonging, even. Did he let you want it, or did he teach you to do so? ]
Thatās terribly young. [ To know what one wants. To know anything, including a saviour from a keeper. ] Still, Iām glad that he changed you, else I might never have met you.
[ A soft smile. Sincere in this, at least, even as he resists questioning the nature of such a dark gift. Selfishly, Armandās answer calls his own potential futures to mind. He could become a god ā and raise Astarion up with him, ensuring neither of them suffers alone ever again. Perfect and protected, no longer vulnerable to potions and foolish mages and resurrections-gone-wrong.
Tempted as he is to ask after the fate of Armandās master now, he decides against it. Taken is explanation enough. ]
And I do ā understand, that is. As much as anyone can.
[ To be him. To be with him. For so long, Gale dreamt of a life as Her peer and greatest love, not one of many Chosen but an equal, ever at her side. The whole of the Weave at his fingertips, the breadth of eternity to explore their love. Is it so different from a vampiric master kneeling at the side of the dying, offering them more when they could possibly understand the cost? To hear it from another. One he cares for, at that, whom he would risk life and limb to keep from loneliness ā it shifts his perspective. ]
Armandās explanation, however, proves humbling. A beginning not so different from Astarionās, though the timelines and mechanics differ in the details. Arun, he sounds out in his mind, knowing Armand will hear it as if spoken aloud. Memorising the shape of it. A good little slave, the word alone making him flinch, though he dares not look away. Gale could identify reverence, absolute devotion, even while blind, while insensate. Immediately, he understands. ]
When you were fifteen. [ Mystra appeared to him long before that, but it was then that she named him Chosen, a token glittering in her transluscent palm. For Arun, he was fifteen and already abused by the world. Fifteen and still naĆÆve, surely, about the nature of eternity. Of belonging, even. Did he let you want it, or did he teach you to do so? ]
Thatās terribly young. [ To know what one wants. To know anything, including a saviour from a keeper. ] Still, Iām glad that he changed you, else I might never have met you.
[ A soft smile. Sincere in this, at least, even as he resists questioning the nature of such a dark gift. Selfishly, Armandās answer calls his own potential futures to mind. He could become a god ā and raise Astarion up with him, ensuring neither of them suffers alone ever again. Perfect and protected, no longer vulnerable to potions and foolish mages and resurrections-gone-wrong.
Tempted as he is to ask after the fate of Armandās master now, he decides against it. Taken is explanation enough. ]
And I do ā understand, that is. As much as anyone can.
[ To be him. To be with him. For so long, Gale dreamt of a life as Her peer and greatest love, not one of many Chosen but an equal, ever at her side. The whole of the Weave at his fingertips, the breadth of eternity to explore their love. Is it so different from a vampiric master kneeling at the side of the dying, offering them more when they could possibly understand the cost? To hear it from another. One he cares for, at that, whom he would risk life and limb to keep from loneliness ā it shifts his perspective. ]
[ The ghosts of those boys sit beside them, unseen but present. Armand tries not to look too closely at them, at Arun's pain and Gale's yearning. Both of them taken and used and broken by hands that should have loved them instead. Devotion. A small word for what it cost them, for how little reward they have been given.
He hears the question that sits in Gale's mind. Did he let you want it? Not the first or the last to wonder at it, though Armand can't approach the details without flinching, retreating into the gaps between those jagged mirror shards of memory. The safety of oblivion, back behind Armand's mask. He sees the warmth of Gale's smile, the compliment in his thoughts meant for a different vampire entirely, but can't feel it, not in that cold void. He fidgets with his drink instead, pointed fingernails clicking against the glass, only vaguely aware that he's doing it. His voice is likewise distant when he speaks. ]
Nobody can. Not truly.
[ After a long beat of staring into the distance, a flat nothingness in his amber eyes, he stirs again. Blinks, comes back to himself, or at least appears to. He offers Gale a pleasant smile that goes no further than his mouth. Rashid's polite servitude, yet another mask. ]
I'm sorry, that was -- I'm not used to talking about these things. It was a long time ago. A lifetime ago.
He hears the question that sits in Gale's mind. Did he let you want it? Not the first or the last to wonder at it, though Armand can't approach the details without flinching, retreating into the gaps between those jagged mirror shards of memory. The safety of oblivion, back behind Armand's mask. He sees the warmth of Gale's smile, the compliment in his thoughts meant for a different vampire entirely, but can't feel it, not in that cold void. He fidgets with his drink instead, pointed fingernails clicking against the glass, only vaguely aware that he's doing it. His voice is likewise distant when he speaks. ]
Nobody can. Not truly.
[ After a long beat of staring into the distance, a flat nothingness in his amber eyes, he stirs again. Blinks, comes back to himself, or at least appears to. He offers Gale a pleasant smile that goes no further than his mouth. Rashid's polite servitude, yet another mask. ]
I'm sorry, that was -- I'm not used to talking about these things. It was a long time ago. A lifetime ago.
[ He need not read minds ā or indulge the tadpoleās conquering instincts ā to know that Armand goes elsewhere. Back to Arun, perhaps, or the false safety one finds in the depths of the self, in the refusal to face the truths that lie beyond it. Human instincts, despite the hundreds of years between them.
And if Gale were a younger man, heād pull on that thread until the peace between them unravelled. As he is now, he banishes the stacking questions from his mind. Holds Armandās gaze, when it returns to him, after a beat of fussing over his food. A soft, sad smile upon his face. ]
Itās all right, my friend. Well, none of itās all right, exactly ā but it doesnāt offend me. [ hopelessly sincere. ] It couldnāt, to know more of you.
[ Gently, then: ]
I hope my curiosity hasnāt taxed you in turn.
[ His relentless pursuit of knowledge being his greatest strength and weakness, the very thing the guided him down that dark, winding corridor to his doom. ]
Weāve lighter things to discuss, besides, like Santiagoās latest exploits.
And if Gale were a younger man, heād pull on that thread until the peace between them unravelled. As he is now, he banishes the stacking questions from his mind. Holds Armandās gaze, when it returns to him, after a beat of fussing over his food. A soft, sad smile upon his face. ]
Itās all right, my friend. Well, none of itās all right, exactly ā but it doesnāt offend me. [ hopelessly sincere. ] It couldnāt, to know more of you.
[ Gently, then: ]
I hope my curiosity hasnāt taxed you in turn.
[ His relentless pursuit of knowledge being his greatest strength and weakness, the very thing the guided him down that dark, winding corridor to his doom. ]
Weāve lighter things to discuss, besides, like Santiagoās latest exploits.
Iāve cast about for her myself. [ in every sense of the word. ]
Glinda has gone as well.
[ And Matt before her, losses Astarion will feel more keenly, for how long he was by his lonesome. ]
Would you come with me to the pool that Lady Alia shared with us? We could honour all the friends weāve missed, of late.
[ not lost, when he hopes theyāve been returned home. ]
Glinda has gone as well.
[ And Matt before her, losses Astarion will feel more keenly, for how long he was by his lonesome. ]
Would you come with me to the pool that Lady Alia shared with us? We could honour all the friends weāve missed, of late.
[ not lost, when he hopes theyāve been returned home. ]
August! How marvellous. Iād been so terribly worried for you, my friend.
And Iāve another stack of books to share with you. Are you quite alright?
And Iāve another stack of books to share with you. Are you quite alright?
After breakfast.
[ a promise. ]
Iām sorry, Astarion. I know the House has been especially cruel to you, of late.
[ a promise. ]
Iām sorry, Astarion. I know the House has been especially cruel to you, of late.
Years?
[ now thatās a peculiar phenomenon, far more than his days on the road. ]
And you still recall your old friend Gale?
[ now thatās a peculiar phenomenon, far more than his days on the road. ]
And you still recall your old friend Gale?
six.
[he's leaving out that he didn't remember him in his home world and when he woke it was an onslaught of overlapping memories.]
of course.
my friend told me i wasn't out for too long. everything okay?
i'll be back at sol&scroll when i tie a few things up.
[he's leaving out that he didn't remember him in his home world and when he woke it was an onslaught of overlapping memories.]
of course.
my friend told me i wasn't out for too long. everything okay?
i'll be back at sol&scroll when i tie a few things up.
So youāll not have any dashing grays for yourself just yet.
[ thanks buddy ]
You missed a quiet week, to my knowledge. I personally managed to have a rather uneventful month after all my trouble the previous turn.
[ forgetting that he didnāt mention said trouble at the time. anyway. ]
Anything I can assist with?
[ thanks buddy ]
You missed a quiet week, to my knowledge. I personally managed to have a rather uneventful month after all my trouble the previous turn.
[ forgetting that he didnāt mention said trouble at the time. anyway. ]
Anything I can assist with?
Iāll treat your queries with the utmost seriousness, my friend, for your sake and mine.
What would you do if that girl I told you about showed up here. And you didn't remember anything happening between the two of you, other than one very brief but tender kiss, but you've got an inkling she's lying to you about something more happening. Sometime in your future, thanks to this place's radically fucked time travel business, but only days, apparently, because the universe has a truly mental sense of humor and loves to play a game of kick the Spike.
Just theoretically
Just theoretically
[ oh my god ]
Presuming Iām you in this scenario?
Presuming Iām you in this scenario?
Edited 2025-05-05 15:24 (UTC)
Theoretically, then, what cosmic torture! Youāve my sympathies, as one previously left behind in the timeline, so to speak.
The goods news is that you are still you, so whatever kindling ultimately sparks the blaze of her affections surely remains. And you need only have patience, in the face of this temporary (and temporal) uncertainty.
The goods news is that you are still you, so whatever kindling ultimately sparks the blaze of her affections surely remains. And you need only have patience, in the face of this temporary (and temporal) uncertainty.
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