[ Gale lifts his gaze, keenly attuned to Armandβs expression, his barely there tells. Younger than him in looks, he realises, despite the age of his soul. He canβt help but frown, mouth twinging in sympathy for the boy Armand was β is. Poison in the blood, yet another strange thing they have in common.
Thereβs something exceptional about Armand, in particular, thinking his goddess cruel β having known her through Galeβs memories and perceptions, which remain largely adoring. What then does he see that Gale fails to, even now, her forgiveness within his grasp? Or your freedom. ]
[ evenly, ] Perhaps.
[ Perhaps he will always be a servant, perhaps not. A third path stretches before him, after all. A crown reforged by his skilled hands that would make him a god in his own right. Worthy, after a lifetime of inadequacy. Undying and all-powerful, overcoming the blight eroding his very person.
He wonders if Armand is privy to those musings, peering his whirring mind. He hasnβt shared that possibility with anyone yet, even Astarion. ]
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Thereβs something exceptional about Armand, in particular, thinking his goddess cruel β having known her through Galeβs memories and perceptions, which remain largely adoring. What then does he see that Gale fails to, even now, her forgiveness within his grasp? Or your freedom. ]
[ evenly, ] Perhaps.
[ Perhaps he will always be a servant, perhaps not. A third path stretches before him, after all. A crown reforged by his skilled hands that would make him a god in his own right. Worthy, after a lifetime of inadequacy. Undying and all-powerful, overcoming the blight eroding his very person.
He wonders if Armand is privy to those musings, peering his whirring mind. He hasnβt shared that possibility with anyone yet, even Astarion. ]
βWhy do you call it the Dark Gift?