[ His tent suddenly smells very much like Gale--not just the crackling ozone from that surge of magic, but also parchment and warm, time-weathered skin. He wonders what Gale might look like, if he actually had years ahead of him rather than two potential time bombs inside, the orb and their shared problem of the worm.
Humans go so quickly. Spawn tend to be turned during their prime, and age never marks them thereafter. Astarion feels a tenderness he can't look at straight-on for the beginnings of crow's feet at the corners of Gale's eyes, the faint wisps of grey at his temples. They make him real, and they make something ache in him, like thumbing a bruise.
Astarion might bristle at his territory being marked under different circumstances--because cleaning it means Gale noticed the filth, the familiar squalor he lets himself live in--but strangely, he doesn't mind this tonight. Their transaction is technically done, but he considers the offer, curiosity drawing him in.
Maybe more than curiosity. A desire for closeness, to not be left alone to brood in his clean, Gale-scented tent for the rest of the night. But he won't look at that straight-on, either. ]
Why not. [ Astarion extends a hand, even though they technically don't need to touch for this, his voice soft. ] We've given each other stranger things.
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Humans go so quickly. Spawn tend to be turned during their prime, and age never marks them thereafter. Astarion feels a tenderness he can't look at straight-on for the beginnings of crow's feet at the corners of Gale's eyes, the faint wisps of grey at his temples. They make him real, and they make something ache in him, like thumbing a bruise.
Astarion might bristle at his territory being marked under different circumstances--because cleaning it means Gale noticed the filth, the familiar squalor he lets himself live in--but strangely, he doesn't mind this tonight. Their transaction is technically done, but he considers the offer, curiosity drawing him in.
Maybe more than curiosity. A desire for closeness, to not be left alone to brood in his clean, Gale-scented tent for the rest of the night. But he won't look at that straight-on, either. ]
Why not. [ Astarion extends a hand, even though they technically don't need to touch for this, his voice soft. ] We've given each other stranger things.