PSL — EXSANGUE

[corporeity]

— TEXTS, PROMPTS, STARTERS

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[corporeity]

[ It’s a strange game, this pretending. Exhilarating in its newness. Odd, in its intimacy. Astarion observes and follows, at his side as promised — a gilded shadow. It’s not often that Gale has someone to air his passing thoughts with, let alone a partner listening with a measure of interest. He thinks the quirk at Astarion’s mouth might be genuine, different from the first flirtatious smiles and the sharp angles tossed at the other guests. Softer, like the look on his face when Gale gave him the warding ring, still perched on his finger.

As Astarion answers him, Gale’s gaze flickers back, catching on the warm red of his eyes. A shade in the same family as his stylish waistcoat, which happens to be one of the least scandalous items he tried at the modiste and no less distracting for it. A part of him wonders what people will make of their pairing: The bookish mage and the elegant outsider. It begs belief, he imagines, but then so does the idea of his eligibility at all.

He’s about to add something encouraging: An affirmation of Astarion’s keen intelligence, when he realises exactly what has been said. ]

The — [ Breath caught, brows at his hairline. ] Blood orgies. [ A scandalised echo that he immediately regrets, glancing around to ensure no one passing them on the stairs overheard. ] My, that’s — [ Two fingers slip into his collar, tugging the fabric from his neck and widening the vee of his shirt. Thinking again of how he’s offered Astarion his blood, which had seemed more practical than scintillating, initially. He clears his throat. ] — in keeping with certain literary genres, I suppose. [ The tawdry ones, in which lonesome travellers seek shelter at a vampire’s manor and lose far more than sleep. ]

While this won’t be quite as stimulating, [ A grimace suggests he immediately regrets that word choice. ] I’ll endeavour to keep you entertained.

[ Mustering what remains of his courage, Gale offers his arm, so they might descend the stairs and enter the ballroom floor together. ]

[exsangue]

[ What a reaction. Astarion is learning that Gale is quick to fluster, when he hits the right trigger points, and it doesn't escape his notice that both vampires and sex are two of them. It's a fun little game to play, particularly around this many people and particularly when the pair of them are highly visible.

And they are being watched, as Astarion takes Gale's arm and they descend the ballroom stairs, heads beginning to turn on the floor below. There's a poised neutrality to most of the looks they're getting, though a few are openly wistful and some bleed resentment.

While Astarion could hold his own against the average puffed-up noble, perhaps it's a good thing he's only pretending to drink the wine tonight. ]

I’d invite you to one should you ever make it to Baldur’s Gate, but I suspect you’d be as popular there as you are here. [ Using Gale's proffered arm as leverage to lean into his space, voice low. ] And said popularity's a touch more harrowing when the ladies bite.

[corporeity]

[ It’s nice, Gale realises, to have a companion at his side. Although he can feel the weight of eyes on him, someone or multiple someones in the crowd, he needn’t go beyond their world of two, instead watching Astarion’s mouth wrap around a tease. It’s only when he tips his head to allow Astarion closer that he unintentionally catches a familiar courtier’s eye. She watches him with obvious interest, eyes sparkling over the rim of her glass as the music swells.

Pink dusts his cheeks, either from the compliment or the implications. The attention at his side or up ahead. Blood orgies, ridiculous soirées, gods below. Perhaps he should marry and be done with it all. ]

Ah — I suspect your teeth will be more than enough for me. [ Gale turns his head inward to avoid the other woman’s gaze, nose brushing Astarion’s cheek. His pulse quickens. ] But I wouldn’t underestimate the sharpness of your present competition, even in these early stages. [ A member of said competition is already venturing towards them, so Gale tugs Astarion’s toward the floor. ] In fact, we’re overdue a dance.

[ And inviting challenge by delaying it any further. ]