[ If stumbling back to his tent last night had been difficult, rousing himself in the morning is borderline untenable. He’s slow to wake and slower still to rise, exiting his tent to find everyone else dressed for the day. It’s a terrible morning — at least for Gale — altogether too bright, exacerbating his splitting headache.
Everyone else seems rather chipper in the greenery and sunshine. Lae’zel tsks as he wanders to the fire, but he assumes there’s a sliver of appreciation for his presence in general, given her annoyance that he failed to cook breakfast for the first time since their journey began.
Initially, he plans to eschew Astarion’s gaze. Gale may not be the one in debt, but he’d been — desperate, in all things. Quick to follow, eager to please. Besides, he doesn’t have the faintest idea how to handle the shift between them.
When Tav invites him to join the adventuring party, he should decline, pinning the blame squarely on his hunger (rather than his ill-advised blood donation, concealed by his high collar). Can’t help but chafe against helplessness, however, so he abandons his plans to rest and avoid Astarion both. It’s furtive glances from then on (ridiculous but unavoidable, for a person with as little restraint as Gale Dekarios). At one point, he thinks Astarion catches him fingering the punctures at his neck (not his earring, not today), or maybe he catches Astarion looking his way.
In the end, it’s for the best that he acquiesced, since he ends up putting out literal fires at Waukeen’s Rest. Nevermind that he’s so light-headed after their daring rescues that he misses news of Duke Ravengard entirely and has to be informed by Shadowheart on the walk back to camp. Perhaps that’s why she volunteers to cook in his stead, slinging a tease about variety his way. It means he can slump by the riverside while the others gather round the fire. A relief, when his veins are surely boiling, Netherese fire hollowing his ribs. ]
for exsangue.
Everyone else seems rather chipper in the greenery and sunshine. Lae’zel tsks as he wanders to the fire, but he assumes there’s a sliver of appreciation for his presence in general, given her annoyance that he failed to cook breakfast for the first time since their journey began.
Initially, he plans to eschew Astarion’s gaze. Gale may not be the one in debt, but he’d been — desperate, in all things. Quick to follow, eager to please. Besides, he doesn’t have the faintest idea how to handle the shift between them.
When Tav invites him to join the adventuring party, he should decline, pinning the blame squarely on his hunger (rather than his ill-advised blood donation, concealed by his high collar). Can’t help but chafe against helplessness, however, so he abandons his plans to rest and avoid Astarion both. It’s furtive glances from then on (ridiculous but unavoidable, for a person with as little restraint as Gale Dekarios). At one point, he thinks Astarion catches him fingering the punctures at his neck (not his earring, not today), or maybe he catches Astarion looking his way.
In the end, it’s for the best that he acquiesced, since he ends up putting out literal fires at Waukeen’s Rest. Nevermind that he’s so light-headed after their daring rescues that he misses news of Duke Ravengard entirely and has to be informed by Shadowheart on the walk back to camp. Perhaps that’s why she volunteers to cook in his stead, slinging a tease about variety his way. It means he can slump by the riverside while the others gather round the fire. A relief, when his veins are surely boiling, Netherese fire hollowing his ribs. ]