[ It is no small thing, for Gale to feel the stirrings of affection for someone after all this time. Tav is beautiful in her humanity, brilliant in her capacity for tugging truths out of each reluctant party member, even those who don’t deserve her gentle handiwork (himself, chiefly). For the last year and a half, Gale hasn’t had company like this. In truth, he never thought he’d have it again.
(And he knows it can’t last.)
Is it so surprising that he’d gravitate towards her effusive warmth? She’s all soft lines, with visible interest in his stories and audible appreciation for his abilities. Chosen, for the party frontlines and evening chatter. Astarion nips at his heels, however, brought along just as often and far more capable in melee. Tav throws her head back with laughter more and more, with Astarion in the party, and Gale can already imagine the point of his incisors piercing her delicate flesh. Sharp teeth, silver-tongued. All mawkish charm and devilish looks, he knows he doesn’t stand a chance.
And if he isn’t favoured, if she doesn’t adore him the way he might be capable of adoring her, she may yet see fit to dismiss him, upon learning the truth of his affliction. Oh, he and Astarion both share a hunger — the likes of which Gale glimpsed once, as Astarion stretched languidly by the fire, shining eyes flickering to the tanned line of his neck when he tied his hair back — but Gale alone risks total annihilation.
That makes Astarion no less of a predator, mind you, stalking back to camp invigorated by some wildlife or another. With watchful eyes, Gale has spied the newfound strength obvious in the lean lines of his arms. Without a doubt, the man is a charlatan, slinging flirtations at almost every member of their group, even Gale. A droll, insincere: I do so enjoy our walks had him tripping over an exposed root before a dull counter could slide from his tongue.
It should be for the best that Tav has chosen another (for her sake), if only it hadn’t been Astarion she followed into the night. His imagination allows him no peace, images of exactly how his companions spent their time playing behind his eyelids until his older, deeper melancholia overtakes him.
At Astarion’s jibe, Gale jolts and nearly slips from his perch atop a raised rock on the shoreline. Of all the people — ]
I was rather enjoying the view. [ until you soured it implied by his snappish tone and sideways glare. His scowl falters as tired brown eyes rove over tousled hair and flushed skin. Fresh blood in his mouth, no doubt. Gale’s stomach swoops. ]
It’s certainly early for you to be up, after the night you’ve had. [ A glimmer of hope, perhaps, that Tav might view Astarion as a better man for a night of celebration. A fair assumption, really. Even if Gale dared — indulge in anything untoward — he’s out of practice on this plane. ] Though you do look…enlivened.
[ Another flash of her throat bared for his pert mouth, fangs glinting in the moonlight. Like a tawdry novel. His cheeks warm at the thought, and he hopes the red hues of the sunrise might obscure it. ]
no subject
(And he knows it can’t last.)
Is it so surprising that he’d gravitate towards her effusive warmth? She’s all soft lines, with visible interest in his stories and audible appreciation for his abilities. Chosen, for the party frontlines and evening chatter. Astarion nips at his heels, however, brought along just as often and far more capable in melee. Tav throws her head back with laughter more and more, with Astarion in the party, and Gale can already imagine the point of his incisors piercing her delicate flesh. Sharp teeth, silver-tongued. All mawkish charm and devilish looks, he knows he doesn’t stand a chance.
And if he isn’t favoured, if she doesn’t adore him the way he might be capable of adoring her, she may yet see fit to dismiss him, upon learning the truth of his affliction. Oh, he and Astarion both share a hunger — the likes of which Gale glimpsed once, as Astarion stretched languidly by the fire, shining eyes flickering to the tanned line of his neck when he tied his hair back — but Gale alone risks total annihilation.
That makes Astarion no less of a predator, mind you, stalking back to camp invigorated by some wildlife or another. With watchful eyes, Gale has spied the newfound strength obvious in the lean lines of his arms. Without a doubt, the man is a charlatan, slinging flirtations at almost every member of their group, even Gale. A droll, insincere: I do so enjoy our walks had him tripping over an exposed root before a dull counter could slide from his tongue.
It should be for the best that Tav has chosen another (for her sake), if only it hadn’t been Astarion she followed into the night. His imagination allows him no peace, images of exactly how his companions spent their time playing behind his eyelids until his older, deeper melancholia overtakes him.
At Astarion’s jibe, Gale jolts and nearly slips from his perch atop a raised rock on the shoreline. Of all the people — ]
I was rather enjoying the view. [ until you soured it implied by his snappish tone and sideways glare. His scowl falters as tired brown eyes rove over tousled hair and flushed skin. Fresh blood in his mouth, no doubt. Gale’s stomach swoops. ]
It’s certainly early for you to be up, after the night you’ve had. [ A glimmer of hope, perhaps, that Tav might view Astarion as a better man for a night of celebration. A fair assumption, really. Even if Gale dared — indulge in anything untoward — he’s out of practice on this plane. ] Though you do look…enlivened.
[ Another flash of her throat bared for his pert mouth, fangs glinting in the moonlight. Like a tawdry novel. His cheeks warm at the thought, and he hopes the red hues of the sunrise might obscure it. ]