[ The resistant (and dour) part of Gale nearly quibbles Astarionโs faith in him, despite how it echoes what he feels to be true of his companion. The fact remains: He resigned himself to die the moment he left his tower. It was, ironically, that tadpole that saved him from a lonesome demise the first time. And his companions, Astarion included, the second.
But what good does it do to say that? To make it seem as though his tether to this world remains a tenuous thing, when Astarion is here. No, Gale decides he has never been so glad to be thought a fool.
With a quirk of his mouth, his counter comes soft and easy. ]
Of course it was with you.
[ Another echo, as he nudges Astarionโs outstretched fingers. A series of teasing follow-ups occur to him (about how only Astarion thinks him enchanting, or perhaps on the matter of how fetching he manages to look, even while a bit of a wet cat) but he canโt manage to see either through.
Instead, ]
Itโs only you. [ Robbed of his eloquence and verbosity by the sincerity of it โ and the fear that heโd lost any chance at this, that Astarion had thought himself unwanted โ gaze suddenly flicking to their hands, touching but not grasping. ] That Iโm waiting for.
[ A confession that isnโt a jab at his myriad connections in the manor, simply a natural outcome of his affections, which have always been singular. ]
no subject
But what good does it do to say that? To make it seem as though his tether to this world remains a tenuous thing, when Astarion is here. No, Gale decides he has never been so glad to be thought a fool.
With a quirk of his mouth, his counter comes soft and easy. ]
Of course it was with you.
[ Another echo, as he nudges Astarionโs outstretched fingers. A series of teasing follow-ups occur to him (about how only Astarion thinks him enchanting, or perhaps on the matter of how fetching he manages to look, even while a bit of a wet cat) but he canโt manage to see either through.
Instead, ]
Itโs only you. [ Robbed of his eloquence and verbosity by the sincerity of it โ and the fear that heโd lost any chance at this, that Astarion had thought himself unwanted โ gaze suddenly flicking to their hands, touching but not grasping. ] That Iโm waiting for.
[ A confession that isnโt a jab at his myriad connections in the manor, simply a natural outcome of his affections, which have always been singular. ]