[ Everything in Gale stills, on hearing how these scars were formed. For all his sorrow, he has never known true horror โ not like what Astarion has endured over the course of hours, days, weeks. This must have taken time, dedicated and precise in its cruelty.
Permission granted, Gale crouches near the sunken tub to peer at Astarionโs scars, raised and angry. The itch to touch and feel out a problem goes untended. Inappropriate, however innocent his intentions are. ]
Your master has a ghastly idea of sweetness. [ He ignores the protective lurch in his skull. All he can offer has already been promised, the praesidium of an archmage known across the realm. ]
Itโs Infernal, alright. [ The language of the hells. Mystra wouldnโt wish for him to entangle himself, in such things. ] But the syntax โ itโs fragmented. [ faster, words coming together in his mind. ] Strange. Inferiu should be an adjective, but itโs the subject of a sentence here. [ He lifts his hand, as if to trace the shape, but stops himself, hovering. ] I recognise oaths and, ah, the fires below clearly. Once weโre home, I can consult my books for the rest.
[ Once, Gale would have said thereโs no problem too great for that course of action. Looking at this macabre tableau, he isnโt so sure. ]
no subject
Permission granted, Gale crouches near the sunken tub to peer at Astarionโs scars, raised and angry. The itch to touch and feel out a problem goes untended. Inappropriate, however innocent his intentions are. ]
Your master has a ghastly idea of sweetness. [ He ignores the protective lurch in his skull. All he can offer has already been promised, the praesidium of an archmage known across the realm. ]
Itโs Infernal, alright. [ The language of the hells. Mystra wouldnโt wish for him to entangle himself, in such things. ] But the syntax โ itโs fragmented. [ faster, words coming together in his mind. ] Strange. Inferiu should be an adjective, but itโs the subject of a sentence here. [ He lifts his hand, as if to trace the shape, but stops himself, hovering. ] I recognise oaths and, ah, the fires below clearly. Once weโre home, I can consult my books for the rest.
[ Once, Gale would have said thereโs no problem too great for that course of action. Looking at this macabre tableau, he isnโt so sure. ]
[ Steady, ] This is no poem, Astarion.