corporeity: (019)
π‘”π‘Žπ‘™π‘’ π‘‘π‘’π‘˜π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘–π‘œπ‘  ([personal profile] corporeity) wrote 2025-03-25 05:30 pm (UTC)

[ 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 β€” most of which return the same answer. It isn’t a point of contention or uncertainty, mind, merely a fact. ]

Ah β€” no. [ Colour high in his cheeks. ] What an observation.

[ Made fairly, when he wouldn’t think Astarion as careless as Spike, though he’s likely been hungrier for longer. Armand has insight into his every thought, besides, and Gale hasn’t expelled him from his mind since that first day.

He touches the marks, mouth taut, and averts his gaze. ]


This was β€” [ 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 I’ve 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 Mystra’s gossamer fingertips, or godhood clutched in his own, will spare him. ]

Post a comment in response:

This account has disabled anonymous posting.
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
HTML doesn't work in the subject.
More info about formatting