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[corporeity]

[ It feels like a victory, to have Astarion draw close and laugh aloud, the sound tinkling in his ear. Delight and surprise written in those fine features, each emotion satisfying to witness from this vantage point. A charming peak of fangs (gods, something must be wrong with him, to find a predator’s razored edges so charming). If he looks a little too long — or leans a tick closer — anyone would understand. All part of the frightfully human instinct to linger in the sun’s warmth, impossible to resist. Even Astarion wouldn’t begrudge him it, surely, after a year in the dark.

Gale’s laughter joins his own, myriad anxieties eased by Astarion’s words and proximity — the admiring look in his eye — prompting a pleased flush. ]

Let us hope we don’t reduce the population to cattle, lest Shadowheart grow envious.

[ Gale starts reorganising his notes, sliding the sigils to one side and his lengthy notes to the other. ]

[ almost shy, ] I’m like to finish this up tonight, if you’d keep me company.

[ As if Astarion would be doing him the favour, despite being far more rattled by their lot than Gale. A glance from the notes to the armchair in the corner, where Astarion might prefer to linger, together without clinging. He imagines (hopes) continued contact would help soothe them both, after this uneven week. ]

[thirsted]

Oh, hardly. It'd just make it easier for her to lay waste to the place.

[ It's with that thought that Astarion pushes himself off from the desk, a satellite reentering its orbit after lingering too close to a sun. (He registers the blush upon Gale's features, moves away to linger on its sweetness, on how much he finds he likes to see it. He's handsome, Astarion's always known that, and yet—)

He's halfway back to his usual sense of ease when Gale speaks again. For a second, Astarion simply looks surprised, casting a glance back over his shoulder, going still ... then shrugging. Ease to counter the near-shyness in Gale's voice, even if he isn't certain he doesn't feel a little shy, too. Better long to linger on the feeling, anyway. ]

I suppose it'd only be fair. You are doing this for both our benefits, after all.

[ Though he doesn't go to the chair, first, instead checking the door to the bathroom, through which Shadowheart, as though summoned, comes tip-tapping, circling Astarion's ankles once before beelining for the darkest corner of Gale's room.

Then, then he finds the chair, settling in it with his legs thrown over one arm and his back against the other, watching Gale a moment longer before diverting his attention to his phone. ]