corporeity | PSL — EXSANGUE

[ The response to his invitation is mild, possibly just a polite one, and Astarion isn't particularly clutched about it either way; though he does linger a moment on the thought of how Gale's blood would taste after a few glasses of sweet wine, how he'd look spread on the chaise beneath him in the warm glow of the fire.

Astarion watches Gale unbind the book from its wards and also spares a thought to what a team they could make for a heist, his deft fingers and Gale's deft words. ]

Not Arkhenneld! [ His voice appropriately hushed and impressed, brows lifted. Astarion has never heard of Arkhenneld in his life, but he knows how to put it on. ]

May I? [ Astarion extends a hand, eyeing the book. It doesn't look like much, but the right dealer will know just where to sell it. ] I'll be as gentle as a lover with it. Cross my heart.

[ It’s more enthusiasm than Gale typically receives, in matters of his academic interests, and he thinks again of the lady in the curios store, a false interest. There are few genuine individuals among nobility, even in a place as wondrous as Waterdeep. It gives him pause, concealed by his careful journey down the ladder.

On solid ground once more, he dismisses the concern. Why should Astarion lie about something so trivial?

As gentle as a lover, he says, conjuring images that have no place in Gale’s head or fractured heart. His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, considering whether to hand over what isn’t his to give, but he’s come this far.

Held carefully in both his hands, Gale extends the journal. ]

Only open it just so. [ without cracking the weathered spine and risking its loose pages. He edges back into Astarion’s space, their shoes nearly touching. It’s closer than he would dare settle, if a precious thing weren’t in play. ]

[ Gale's closer than Astarion would like for slipping the book into his coat and moving on, but closer is better for flirting. He's just as careful as Gale asks with the book, holding it reverently as he sifts the pages. ]

[ After a moment, ] I've got an idea, if you're of a mind to indulge me. [ Conspiratorially, again, like they're in on something together: leaning in to murmur by Gale's ear, cool breath against his skin. ] Someone mentioned there's a whole case of First Frost downstairs that they're saving for the wee hours. How would you feel about nicking a bottle for us, so we can enjoy it as we read? I'd get it myself, of course, but you seem to know your way around here much better than I do.

[ If Gale takes the bait, Astarion can be gone before anyone's the wiser. ]

[ An unexpected advance, though not entirely unwelcome, if Gale had the time to parse his feelings on the matter. As it stands, having dodged these flirtations for weeks, it’s half-habit, half-instinctive caution that makes him step back. Distantly, he thinks of nights spent enwrapped in the gossamer veil of the Weave, so far from where he now resides.

His eyes flick downward, watching the pages turn under Astarion’s slim fingers. ]

If I didn’t fear I’d be dragged into another dance on the way down, I would consider indulging you. [ Gale lifts his chin to offer an apologetic smile, hands clasped behind his back. ]

Alas, neither Lord Reis’ eldest son nor daughter have been afforded their promised place on my dance card, and I only lost them by taking a rather circuitous hidden passage from the gallery into the laundry, so I must decline. [ There’s a glimmer in his eye that suggests he’s twigged something suspect in this exchange, as he adds brightly, ] Too great a risk to my virtue.

[ Not unlike whatever Astarion is proposing. ]

[ Astarion just manages to keep his expression from going sour, but it's a close thing. He's used to people tripping over themselves to impress him, and Astarion thought he had Gale on that same string, but it looks like Gale is only willing to take the bait if he's puffing about magical tomes.

He pretends to return his attention to the book in hand, responding crisply, ]

I suppose we'll leave your virtue intact for another day.

[ His smile's tighter as he pulls another book off the shelf at random, and then a third, examining their tables of contents. If he can't get Gale out of the room, he'll just have to slip him the wrong book to replace the rare one instead. ]

I should probably get back before too long, anyway. My date is likely on his third bottle and stumbling into the rose bushes as we speak.

[ The tension between them snaps, gone in an instant and then permanently banished at the mention of date. Good, he tells himself. There’s clarity in the new space between them. Had Astarion’s interest been genuine at all — or had his intent been to remove Gale from the library?

Gale wraps his knuckles against the nearest shelf, expression flitting from disappointment to mild curiosity. ]

Ah, yes, quite right — is he the reason for your visiting Waterdeep?

[ A key question in differentiating a serious entanglement from a fleeting one, although he doesn’t know why it matters in the first place. ]

[ Astarion is momentarily distracted by Volo's Complete Guide to the Behaviour of Nymphs, but barks a brief, honest laugh at the question. ] Not remotely.

[ And then, because he's feeling a little dangerous, with this interaction not going precisely how he expected it to... Astarion offers another whiff of honesty, the sort that's deeply inappropriate for a noble's social hour.

He smiles, the barest flash of fang visible in the firelight. ] I'm running from someone who kept me on a very tight leash.

Edited (had brief twice in the same sentence, illegal) 2024-01-01 05:39 (UTC)

[ A trick of the light sharpens Astarion’s incisor to a fine point. There’s a strange sensation at his back, a disruption in the Weave that he’d think was a warning, if he were still Mystra’s chosen. He isn’t, so he ignores it.

For a brief moment, he wonders if this is a third trick — the fool, the flirt, the damsel — but Astarion’s voice has a different tenor from before. ]

I see. [ measured, his countenance set in careful neutrality. ] Then I hope you spend your time in Waterdeep doing whatever you please. [ and, in the spirit of honesty: ] Though I’d suggest not wasting a perfectly lovely evening on a lush, even if he is your date.

[ Doing whatever you please. Astarion yearns for exactly that, but there's a quiet, yawning terror barely a pace behind him that knows what will happen to him if - when, the voice provides - Cazador catches up to him.

Death would be too kind. He spent a year in a tomb, once, for a much simpler disobedience than this, his fingers bloody from clawing at stone, only silence and the rot of time his constant companions.

Astarion's gaze is somewhere else, for a moment, before he finds himself back in the library with Gale. He can feel the way he's drained most of the goodwill from their encounter, and doesn't have it in him to put one of his masks back on to try salvaging this for a longer con. ]

You're right. [ Astarion summons one last burst of the charlatan, busying himself with putting the books back on the shelf. ]
It won't be so hard to give him the slip and enjoy the stars on my own. I think I'll do just that.

[ He takes Gale's hand, suddenly, bending just so to press a kiss to his knuckles. As he straightens, a gleam in his eye, ]

It was a pleasure to meet you, Gale Dekarios.

[ Hands him Volo's instead, while he's potentially distracted by the kiss, the covers and weight not dissimilar. Strides back to the hearth with Arkhenneld tucked out of sight, sweeps up his jacket - and the gold cufflinks - and hides both book and cufflinks amidst the fur.

Gale will notice shortly. Which is why Astarion wastes no time in slipping back to the door, the very brief hourglass with which he has to escape unseen already beginning to tick down. ]

I'll give the ladies your regards. [ From the crack of the door, before it's shut behind him and he's sprinting down the hall to the exit to vanish entirely from this man's life. ]

Edited 2024-01-01 16:34 (UTC)

[ One second, Astarion is there, and the next, Gale watches him disappear, gone away inside or somewhere else entirely. Can’t help but wonder if he overstepped, by disparaging his escort for the night.

To his relief, the moment passes. Gale chooses not to inspect the spark of pleasure he feels, at Astarion abandoning his date. It’s a natural thing, when one has helped another see clearly. More difficult to ignore is the rush of warmth, flushing his face, as Astarion kisses his hand. He even forgets to fret over Astarion’s haphazard treatment of these precious books, too dumbstruck by the surprising tenderness. ]

And you, Astarion. [ called out to his retreating form, book clasped against his chest. ]

[ Absorbed in his thoughts, he’s halfway up the ladder before he realises the book in his hand isn’t, in fact, the priceless journal of Arkhenneld. Searching the shelves for the misplaced item yields only other, incorrectly slotted books (that Gale swiftly rearranges). It’s only when Gale moves to collect his things and finds them equally lacking that he comprehends what happened. Fuck. ]

PSL — EXSANGUE

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fin.