corporeity: (102)
π‘”π‘Žπ‘™π‘’ π‘‘π‘’π‘˜π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘–π‘œπ‘  ([personal profile] corporeity) wrote 2024-12-03 07:07 am (UTC)

[ A familiar helplessness overtakes him, at the sight of Astarion’s uncharacteristically open (and therefore vulnerable) features. Whyever did he stand up, if he was only going to add to his companion’s unease and then bloody stand there, unable to do anything more? They’re suspended for a moment longer before Astarion stomps his foot, and Gale cards his offending hand back through his hair, skimming off the top of the surface tension β€” then trying and failing not to look touched by the answering reassurance, unasked for. Truer for it, when Gale has begged praise from others since he first started casting.

You remember me, and I remember you. Recalled from their first conversation, an axiom-like rhythm to it that sticks in his mind. A comfort, for its reciprocity. ]


Come now, surely your roguish talents are better served putting stones in his pockets.

[ A sly, half-smile, hesitant in the offering, as he resists the urge to ask where it is Astarion goes, when he looks elsewhere. Better to make oneself worth paying attention to here. ]

Would you like to see the wards I’m setting? [ Already doubling back to the safety of his desk, rearranging his papers to find the sigils in question and sliding them out of his messy notes on everything from ki to their twisting timelines. ] Tilanus, Orin, anyone entering without our leave will find themselves in for a nasty surprise. A changeling can fool the human β€” or elven β€” eye, but not [ he raps his knuckles against the wood. ] the arcane.

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