corporeity: (023)
𝑔𝑎𝑙𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑘𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑠 ([personal profile] corporeity) wrote2024-11-12 12:45 pm

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bhaalist: (m o d e l)

[personal profile] bhaalist 2024-11-23 10:34 pm (UTC)(link)
I believe lashing out at them would be unwise, at least for now. I can't say I trust them, but it sometimes pays to be patient. I agree with you.

[ about this, anyway. orin is another story. ]
bhaalist: (112)

[personal profile] bhaalist 2024-11-23 11:08 pm (UTC)(link)
[ he's wary of pushing too much, assuming too much. especially after talking to astarion. it's strange to be strangers again. ]

You're welcome.

Gale, if there is anything you need, you need only ask.
bhaalist: (t h i n k)

[personal profile] bhaalist 2024-11-24 01:22 am (UTC)(link)
I know.

It was no lie when I said I recall little of my past. When I woke on the Nautiloid I knew nothing but my name, and I met you not long after.


[ what he had discovered, he had discovered with gale, and the wizard had not turned from him then. would this version feel differently?

it is a strange thing to be concerned about. there are few people whose opinion would matter to him.
]

Would you take a drink with me? I would rather speak of this in person.
thirsted: (Default)

🚪 visitation.

[personal profile] thirsted 2024-11-28 01:50 am (UTC)(link)
[ A couple of days after Astarion's conversation with Tilanus (in which he, in the privacy of their rooms, has seemed more agitated than usual), the vampire comes through the adjoining bathroom, a pinch in his brow.

He debates a text, debates a letter, debates a call. None quite seem sufficient.

Without any preamble (and without any regard for whatever Gale was previously doing):
] Tilanus. You've spoken with him.
volkarin: (pic#17517657)

✉️ text — un: ev.

[personal profile] volkarin 2024-11-28 02:02 am (UTC)(link)
Dear Gale,

Per our discussion on the network, I have something to report as to the nature of death in this place.

The fact of the matter is that it is not, in fact, death. It is something very close to it, practically indistinguishable by those who experienced it, but not death. It's entirely unfamiliar to me, I'm afraid. I wish I knew more, but this seemed significant enough to pass along.

Yours,
Emmrich
thirsted: (Default)

[personal profile] thirsted 2024-11-30 10:13 pm (UTC)(link)
At least Elodie had the courtesy to treat me as a stranger, [ Astarion hisses, already beginning to pace a course through Gale's room. As he goes, he pulls his phone from his doublet pocket, scrolling through its contents before he finds the message he's looking for.

In a melodramatic (and frankly uncharitable) tone:
] "There was much that we shared. Much that I know well you would not tell a stranger you had just met." The gall— to speak of knowing me—

[ He bares his teeth in displeasure, still on course to bore a divot into the floor of Gale's quarters. ]

Whatever version of me he knows must be a dolt, else he would know better than to address me so familiarly. Or perhaps I was under some enchantment—

[ The fact is that he doesn't actually know what it is that Tilanus knows about him, but he doesn't want to ask and find out, either. ]

Does he speak to you the same way?
bhaalist: (26)

action?

[personal profile] bhaalist 2024-12-02 12:14 am (UTC)(link)
I shall meet you there.

[ and he will. he's explored enough of the house to find it with relative ease. wine is his choice, and he'll be able to be found at a table large enough for two, with a bottle of red. he hasn't opened it yet, though there are two glasses waiting for gale's arrival. ]
volkarin: (pic#17517739)

[personal profile] volkarin 2024-12-02 02:02 am (UTC)(link)
Frankly, I worry that it may be the latter, as it seems that experiencing such a shadow state comes with its share of aftereffects, the nature of which I am still researching.

And of course. I expect it will benefit us all to share from our respective troves, rather than keeping a dragon's hoard.
thirsted: (Default)

[personal profile] thirsted 2024-12-02 05:21 am (UTC)(link)
[ With each new word that leaves Gale's mouth, the corners of Astarion's turn further and further downward, as upset with the (perceived) invasion of Gale's privacy as with his own. ]

Unsettling, [ he repeats, as he briefly stops his pacing to plant his hands on his hips. ] It's insulting. You know, I told him — twice! — that we were strangers, and each time he acknowledged the fact, and yet the conversation always rattled back onto the subject of how we once knew each other, of how he would protect us. Us! As though he were our beloved keeper!

[ And his pacing begins again, though this time, his hands come up to the level of his chest, his palms parallel as he gestures through his frustration. ]

He speaks of earned friendship and yet acts as though the earning has been done already. He says he wishes for us to be on an equal playing field, then persistently mentions how dear we are to him, further reminding us that we know nothing of him at all.

[ He'd stomp his foot if it wouldn't belittle the degree to which he's been irritated by the entire affair — and he'd throw himself onto the bed if it weren't Gale's, so he simply stops for a second time, his fingers curling into fists. But this second pause seems to be enough to get him to relent — not in terms of changing his mind but in terms of calming down for Gale's sake. He realizes, after all, that he's basically made the same complaint twice already.

Actually, suddenly, abjectly:
]

We— we know each other, don't we? A few lost days aside, I—

[ He falters, unusually flustered and unmoored by his own errant train of thought. ]
thirsted: (Default)

✉️ text — un: astarion.

[personal profile] thirsted 2024-12-02 07:54 pm (UTC)(link)
[ From the other room: ]

Has anyone shown you emojis yet? Or has the illustrious Gale figured them out on his own? 🧙‍♂️
thirsted: (Default)

[personal profile] thirsted 2024-12-02 10:22 pm (UTC)(link)
[ The sound elicits a smile in turn, blessedly not the sort of thing that will carry while out of view. ]

Somehow, the other option, beardless though it is, strikes me as even greyer: 🧙
Perhaps it's the glasses?
thirsted: (Default)

1/2

[personal profile] thirsted 2024-12-03 12:27 am (UTC)(link)
You know, I've always thought that looked rather more like Cazador.
thirsted: (pic#16740284)

[personal profile] thirsted 2024-12-03 12:27 am (UTC)(link)
[ Then, quickly, lest Gale think he's stepped on a land mine: ]

🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🧛‍♂️
thirsted: (pic#17360801)

[personal profile] thirsted 2024-12-03 03:26 am (UTC)(link)
[ When Gale gets to his feet, for a single, terrifying moment, Astarion fears the worst. That he's been coddled, duped — that there's been a stranger in the adjoining room this entire time. It's writ clear upon his features, in the wide set of his eyes, the way the line of his jaw goes taut.

Then — relief. There's a flare of his nostrils as he breathes out, lets go of the worry he'd been holding onto, his expression remaining unusually open just a moment longer (because he sees the way Gale's hand hovers in the air, because something else entirely seizes his chest in that brief moment) before it changes again, taking on something like self-effacement as he allows himself a tsk and a slight stomp of his foot. Even his shoulders slump, leaving him looking small but at least less rudderless than he had been mere moments before.
]

Nor I, you. Any of you.

[ He speaks the words more easily than he typically does similarly honest sentiments, like the syllables are being pried out of a vise. He draws in a breath to say something more, then seems to change his mind, a shadow of Gale's gesture, extended and then curbed. ]

I've had rather enough of him, [ is what he settles on, his tone plaintive as his eyes bore a hole into the middle distance, his apparent lack of focus serving as an indicator of the mental strain used in jumping from one train of thought to another. ] The next time he calls me friend, I'll put stones in my pockets and walk into the lake.

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