[ Before Gale can blink, he’s on his arse, pain lancing up his back and air rushing from his lungs. How in the hells? His head swivels up, half-delirious, as he processes what happened, coughing up salt water. A tadpoled spawn got the better of Mystra’s chosen, now gaping up at him like a fish. Anger threads through his veins, fiery as the the blight.
Little dog, isn’t that what the others called him? No, lapdog, kneeling at Mystra’s beck and call. Her plaything, grateful to be toyed with — and he’d thought them jealous until she — until she — ]
At least I know what I am. [ Hoarse from choking on air and water both. Gale grasps Astarion’s firm calf in hand, a shock coursing through his fingers as he yanks hard. He doesn’t think through where Astarion might land or the dangers of loosing sparks above the water. ] What I want.
[ Except he doesn’t, not really, beyond the retaliatory urge to do harm. It would be truer to say he knows what he deserves, which is nothing and no-one. ]
it’s an honour to give an angy cat face back
Little dog, isn’t that what the others called him? No, lapdog, kneeling at Mystra’s beck and call. Her plaything, grateful to be toyed with — and he’d thought them jealous until she — until she — ]
At least I know what I am. [ Hoarse from choking on air and water both. Gale grasps Astarion’s firm calf in hand, a shock coursing through his fingers as he yanks hard. He doesn’t think through where Astarion might land or the dangers of loosing sparks above the water. ] What I want.
[ Except he doesn’t, not really, beyond the retaliatory urge to do harm. It would be truer to say he knows what he deserves, which is nothing and no-one. ]