SALTBURNT | inbox.
WELCOME TO THE SALTBURNT NETWORK
USERNAME
ASTARION
text ๐ฉธ audio ๐ฉธ video
WELCOME TO THE SALTBURNT NETWORK
USERNAME
ASTARION
text ๐ฉธ audio ๐ฉธ video
Well, hello, darling.
Fortunately, yes. This place hardly lacks for those willing to do a good deed โ or, at least, for those bored enough to happily agree to any feasible request.
Not looking for an artist, yourself, are you? I could pick you the best of the lot.
Fortunately, yes. This place hardly lacks for those willing to do a good deed โ or, at least, for those bored enough to happily agree to any feasible request.
Not looking for an artist, yourself, are you? I could pick you the best of the lot.
[ Before the evening cuddles, but after the interrogation, Lauralae sends Astarion a message. ]
shadowheart said things that i thought should be for your ears alone.
she said you are a dreadful owner. the best.
that you take care of her, and cuddle her nightly.
that you would purchase a collar for her.
she said that she is happy with you. that you are the most powerful vampire here and that you should rule the place.
and it is true, that she said she loves you.
shadowheart said things that i thought should be for your ears alone.
she said you are a dreadful owner. the best.
that you take care of her, and cuddle her nightly.
that you would purchase a collar for her.
she said that she is happy with you. that you are the most powerful vampire here and that you should rule the place.
and it is true, that she said she loves you.
[ It takes a few moments for Astarion to respond. It's all been, put extremely simply, rather a lot. To care for a creature is one thing; to have concrete proof that one's actions have been appreciated, and one's sentiments returned in kind, is another entirely.
And Lauralae's efforts (and discretion) are yet another gift on the pile: a surfeit of riches, of which he feels unworthy. ]
Thank you, dear Lauralae, for conveying Shadowheart's thoughts โ and for helping to prove my innocence.
You are a dear friend, and a rare spirit, to be cherished. You have my gratitude. For this, and for much else.
[ (And Shadowheart, perhaps unsurprisingly, accumulates several new ribbons, collars, and accoutrements throughout the days that follow.) ]
And Lauralae's efforts (and discretion) are yet another gift on the pile: a surfeit of riches, of which he feels unworthy. ]
Thank you, dear Lauralae, for conveying Shadowheart's thoughts โ and for helping to prove my innocence.
You are a dear friend, and a rare spirit, to be cherished. You have my gratitude. For this, and for much else.
[ (And Shadowheart, perhaps unsurprisingly, accumulates several new ribbons, collars, and accoutrements throughout the days that follow.) ]
Astarion - hi. It's Hawk.
Just wanted to check in and see how you're holding up. Seems a lot quieter this go-around.
Just wanted to check in and see how you're holding up. Seems a lot quieter this go-around.
[ The name that pops up on his phone causes Astarion to double-take. He'd taken Hawk to be gallant, from their brief interaction, but this is still unexpected. ]
Well, well, isn't this a pleasant surprise?
I appreciate your concern, even if I don't share your optimism as to how things will go. Votes still have to be cast, and I'd wager no one will be particularly happy about that.
But, to answer your question, I've certainly been worse. And you? Are you well?
Well, well, isn't this a pleasant surprise?
I appreciate your concern, even if I don't share your optimism as to how things will go. Votes still have to be cast, and I'd wager no one will be particularly happy about that.
But, to answer your question, I've certainly been worse. And you? Are you well?
Itโs been some time since I saw you last, husband.
[ he kept quiet in the second vote โ wisely, sheโd wager. ]
[ he kept quiet in the second vote โ wisely, sheโd wager. ]
[ Matt spends most of the week with his head down, working on the scale model of the manor that he and Harry started last month. He slips out like a cat to eat and sleep, but otherwise doesn't have much going on. He's always liked the pure craft of spellwork, honestly: the gathering of just the right ingredients, the attention to small details. It's intricate enough to occupy his mind, but much less fraught than social interaction.
Still, towards the end of the week, a combination of restlessness and loneliness gets him texting again. ]
A hot toddy is hot water + scotch/whiskey/bourbon + lemon + honey + cinnamon, though I also like to add ginger.
I don't know if that's the kind of thing you drink, but either way ...
Walk?
Still, towards the end of the week, a combination of restlessness and loneliness gets him texting again. ]
A hot toddy is hot water + scotch/whiskey/bourbon + lemon + honey + cinnamon, though I also like to add ginger.
I don't know if that's the kind of thing you drink, but either way ...
Walk?
Alas, my diet is somewhat more limited these days, but I can appreciate the scent of such a concoction, at least.
[ It does sound rather nice โ the kind of thing he'd have enjoyed as a living man. ]
Make one for me anyway, my dear? I'll meet you out front.
[ It does sound rather nice โ the kind of thing he'd have enjoyed as a living man. ]
Make one for me anyway, my dear? I'll meet you out front.
[ At some point in the afternoon, just as Matt's last breath leaves his body, a small golden light appears in his room. It's about the size of a marble, and instantly, it flutters through the air as if on an errand it knows well. Walls and locked doors are no impediment to it, as it isn't strictly solid, and it leaves no trace behind it.
Eventually, the little bauble finds Astarion. It winds and dances around him, gentle as a summer breeze but insistent all the same. If he follows it through the halls, the light will direct him to a folded slip of paper with his name on it. ]
Astarion,
When I accused you, I was not being the person I wanted to be. I hope you won't take it to heart. You do not deserve it.
Hope you do better in this game than I did. Please look out for Lauralae.
P.S. (for Shadowheart) Bawkbawkbawk, bawk-bawk. Cluckcluckcluck.
[ He still doesn't speak chicken. ]
Eventually, the little bauble finds Astarion. It winds and dances around him, gentle as a summer breeze but insistent all the same. If he follows it through the halls, the light will direct him to a folded slip of paper with his name on it. ]
Astarion,
When I accused you, I was not being the person I wanted to be. I hope you won't take it to heart. You do not deserve it.
Hope you do better in this game than I did. Please look out for Lauralae.
P.S. (for Shadowheart) Bawkbawkbawk, bawk-bawk. Cluckcluckcluck.
[ He still doesn't speak chicken. ]
1. Iโve now read back through the archives since everyoneโs arrival at the manor. Rather a lot of violence among the residents, it seems.
2. As discussed, Iโve moved my belongings into the room adjoining yours. Better we stay close in this place than reside so near unknown variables.
3. I believed you when you said it had been months, of course, but this is quite the temporal anomaly! People awaking with additional memories, even aging, when no time has passed at all for the other residents? Impressive spellwork.
2. As discussed, Iโve moved my belongings into the room adjoining yours. Better we stay close in this place than reside so near unknown variables.
3. I believed you when you said it had been months, of course, but this is quite the temporal anomaly! People awaking with additional memories, even aging, when no time has passed at all for the other residents? Impressive spellwork.
[ It takes Astarion a moment to respond, not least because the idea of reading through everything that's ever been posted to the network is, frankly, appalling. ]
1. They're all a rather high-strung bunch. It doesn't help that a large number of them are children.
[ Teens, he's looking at you. ]
2. I forgot to warn you, there is one other who will be sharing our suite: Shadowheart, but not the one you think. She is a hen. And a vampire, but not vampire spawn. And no, she does not seem to have a maker, there isn't some larger vampire chicken roaming the grounds. I think.
3. There are even stranger layers to it, unfortunately. She's gone, now, but there was a girl who claimed to know me, that we'd met near the Emerald Grove, yet I had no recollection of her at all. She knew you, too. And Minthara, though I couldn't reason out how, given that we left the drow for dead.
1. They're all a rather high-strung bunch. It doesn't help that a large number of them are children.
[ Teens, he's looking at you. ]
2. I forgot to warn you, there is one other who will be sharing our suite: Shadowheart, but not the one you think. She is a hen. And a vampire, but not vampire spawn. And no, she does not seem to have a maker, there isn't some larger vampire chicken roaming the grounds. I think.
3. There are even stranger layers to it, unfortunately. She's gone, now, but there was a girl who claimed to know me, that we'd met near the Emerald Grove, yet I had no recollection of her at all. She knew you, too. And Minthara, though I couldn't reason out how, given that we left the drow for dead.
[ Astarion is out when Matt knocks, it seems. And he said he could leave his charms in his room if he wasn't there, so Matt slips in to drop them off.
He leaves two small packets just inside the door, wrapped in paper and neatly labeled. One says CATERING, and contains a compass enchanted to direct the carrier towards the nearest (non-human) baked good. Since the spell isn't supposed to matter, Matt figured he could go wild testing out a weird charm.
The other says ASTARION (SMALL BATCH). As promised, the packet contains a beaded bracelet of wood and light blue stones. There's a note as well: ]
If you find you want a little more sense of calm than you're getting from wearing it, just roll or touch the beads.
I estimate it'll wear off in a month or so, but whenever you feel it loses efficacy, just let me know and I'll re-up it for you.
[ Matt's work done, he's super tempted to steal one of Astarion's shirts. But they don't know each other like that, he figures, so after a moment of battling between his shoulder angel and shoulder demon, he departs. ]
He leaves two small packets just inside the door, wrapped in paper and neatly labeled. One says CATERING, and contains a compass enchanted to direct the carrier towards the nearest (non-human) baked good. Since the spell isn't supposed to matter, Matt figured he could go wild testing out a weird charm.
The other says ASTARION (SMALL BATCH). As promised, the packet contains a beaded bracelet of wood and light blue stones. There's a note as well: ]
If you find you want a little more sense of calm than you're getting from wearing it, just roll or touch the beads.
I estimate it'll wear off in a month or so, but whenever you feel it loses efficacy, just let me know and I'll re-up it for you.
[ Matt's work done, he's super tempted to steal one of Astarion's shirts. But they don't know each other like that, he figures, so after a moment of battling between his shoulder angel and shoulder demon, he departs. ]
Iโve just had the incomparable pleasure of meeting Orin the Red.
Given that Iโm no longer bleeding, I think it went well.
Given that Iโm no longer bleeding, I think it went well.
[ There are several things in this message that could count as "the last thing Astarion wants to hear." On the one hand, he supposes he ought to have known better โ there's no rhyme nor reason to why he and Gale could find themselves here and Orin couldn't. Only, perhaps, that he'd hope the Balfours would have better taste in guests, butโ
(The fear he feels is less about her and more about what her presence means: namely, that there's no guarantee that Cazador Szarr himself won't turn up some day, that this gilded cage will abruptly lose what sheen it has and transform into the most miserable of jails.) ]
She hurt you
[ Sent quickly, if the lack of punctuation is to be believed.
That bitch. A shame death seems to be of little consequence in this place. ]
(The fear he feels is less about her and more about what her presence means: namely, that there's no guarantee that Cazador Szarr himself won't turn up some day, that this gilded cage will abruptly lose what sheen it has and transform into the most miserable of jails.) ]
She hurt you
[ Sent quickly, if the lack of punctuation is to be believed.
That bitch. A shame death seems to be of little consequence in this place. ]
[ Sometime after delivering the first swath of artefacts, Astarion will find a handwritten note slipped under his door. Gale's scrawl is a tidy, cramped thing, at odds with his looping signature. The body of the letter seems written in a hand intended for notes made in the margins of other texts, not wholly independent pieces.
As an aside, itโs spelled to be resistant to Shadowheartโs pecking. ]
Astarion,
Many thanks for the help with my condition.
Iโve a proposal for the favour youโre owed โ in addition to my true favour, hah!
I noted your enquiry not long after your arrival, seeking out artists.
I've no doubt you made a fine subject for their work. But if you should like to see yourself as you are, rather than through the eyes of another, there are a few, suitable spells, some of which can be taught, so you might wield them at your leisure.
Just a thought. Do let me know if you would like to learn them or have me cast them for you.
Your humble debtor,
Gale
As an aside, itโs spelled to be resistant to Shadowheartโs pecking. ]
Astarion,
Many thanks for the help with my condition.
Iโve a proposal for the favour youโre owed โ in addition to my true favour, hah!
I noted your enquiry not long after your arrival, seeking out artists.
I've no doubt you made a fine subject for their work. But if you should like to see yourself as you are, rather than through the eyes of another, there are a few, suitable spells, some of which can be taught, so you might wield them at your leisure.
Just a thought. Do let me know if you would like to learn them or have me cast them for you.
Your humble debtor,
Gale
[ (Shadowheart, typically uninterested in paper goods, seems to pick up on the enchantment, clipping Astarion's fingers a couple of times as she attempts to test the limits of the spell placed upon the letter.)
If you should like to see yourself as you are, rather than through the eyes of another ... the words strike him unexpectedly sharply, the frown that crosses his features not born of annoyance but of the surprise and confusion that most kindness has prompted in him, as though to accept it might be some sort of joke, something meant to prove his gullibility even after two hundred years of servitude.
It occurs to Astarion that he could simply text Gale his response, butโ he responds with his own little note, instead, this time sent through their adjoining bathroom, tied to a ribbon around Shadowheart's neck.
She, very politely, does not attempt to peck at Gale. ]
If you should like to see yourself as you are, rather than through the eyes of another ... the words strike him unexpectedly sharply, the frown that crosses his features not born of annoyance but of the surprise and confusion that most kindness has prompted in him, as though to accept it might be some sort of joke, something meant to prove his gullibility even after two hundred years of servitude.
It occurs to Astarion that he could simply text Gale his response, butโ he responds with his own little note, instead, this time sent through their adjoining bathroom, tied to a ribbon around Shadowheart's neck.
She, very politely, does not attempt to peck at Gale. ]
Gale,
Given your study of the network, I suppose it would be useless of me to pretend that such a spell would not intrigue me.
Perhaps a lesson, if you think such an exercise would not strain us both unduly.
Your benevolent creditor,
Astarion
[ are you having a peaceful evening? are you enjoying the sights and sounds of saltburnt? well, congratulations on finding a new companion tonight: this dog, with glowing hell eyes and fire collar and a stinky sulfuric perfume wafting along with her. if you step away from her, she will follow. if you move towards her, she will step back. just a little dance-y dance for about a few minutes before she decides she's had enough and leaves.
she knows you now. time to report back to her human. ]
she knows you now. time to report back to her human. ]
[ Oh!
Not for the first time since arriving at Saltburnt, Astarion thinks of Scratch. So when he sees the hound trailing him, he stops in his tracks, settling his hands on his hips.
And who are you, my little dear?
He takes a step forward, she takes a step back. So be it.
You must have a master, he says, as he eyes the collar she wears. And you certainly don't seem lost.
He crouches down briefly to find a stick โ and finds her gone when he looks up again. What a shame. ]
Not for the first time since arriving at Saltburnt, Astarion thinks of Scratch. So when he sees the hound trailing him, he stops in his tracks, settling his hands on his hips.
And who are you, my little dear?
He takes a step forward, she takes a step back. So be it.
You must have a master, he says, as he eyes the collar she wears. And you certainly don't seem lost.
He crouches down briefly to find a stick โ and finds her gone when he looks up again. What a shame. ]
[ speaking with gale has left him less than hopeful. not to mention, had this been his astarion, he thinks he would have heard from him. but still--
he cannot see this name in his contacts and not react to it. ]
I suspect you will not know my name. But I must hope otherwise, all the same.
It's Tilanus. Astarion, do you remember me?
he cannot see this name in his contacts and not react to it. ]
I suspect you will not know my name. But I must hope otherwise, all the same.
It's Tilanus. Astarion, do you remember me?
[ Ah. This isn't the first time Astarion's had to deal with this diverging of roads, but it somehow doesn't surprise him any less, or leave him at any less of a loss.
It is a cruel thing, not to be remembered. ]
Tilanus. I am as pleased to make your acquaintance as I am sorry to say I have no memory of you.
There was another, Elodie, who asked me the same thing, and I had no recollection of her, either. I wonder if you would remember each other, but, regrettably, she has since departed.
It is a cruel thing, not to be remembered. ]
Tilanus. I am as pleased to make your acquaintance as I am sorry to say I have no memory of you.
There was another, Elodie, who asked me the same thing, and I had no recollection of her, either. I wonder if you would remember each other, but, regrettably, she has since departed.
[ Matt is, by some metrics, not having a great time lately. But even under the dimmest circumstances, cool connections can still happen and remind you there's light and hope in the world and stuff. ]
I met your friend Gale =)
I met your friend Gale =)
[ Astarion lets the words called himself my friend, did he? blink back at him from his phone screen for a moment or two before deleting them. The jig is up, he supposes, on at least one side of the equation; he doubts Gale would have given away the fact that he's the intended recipient of the items Matt is to be enchanting, but there's no way Gale wouldn't have figured out that Matt is the heretofore mysterious source of the compass. ]
Oh? What did you make of him?
Oh? What did you make of him?
annnnd action ๐ฌ๐ฟ๐๐ชก (get it ... space + needle ... seattle ...)
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semicharmed
- 2024-12-04 00:06 (UTC) - ExpandWould you prefer to sleep in a coffin?
[ help your mortalโs been talking to other vampires again ]
[ help your mortalโs been talking to other vampires again ]
cw: vague internalized transphobia, probably all through the thread
kobes
- 2024-12-24 03:05 (UTC) - Expand[ Left in Astarion's room - because she has permission to do so, even if it feels a touch odd without his absence - is a black box, tied with a golden ribbon. Inside is a note, laying upon some gifts wrapped in tissue paper of different shades of red;
Astarion.
You were right, before, when you told me that I had more friends than I knew. Making the list of who I wished to gift to this season has shown me that there are more that care for me than I might have guessed, and that is a blessing. All the same, there are few that I have given as much trust to as you, though I do not know why it may be. Perhaps there is something similar in us, two beings of the same world, but as it stands you are important to me.
You are a dear friend. One of my dearest. I would ask for nothing but your happiness, but I hope these gifts suffice in the meanwhile. Please ensure Shadowheart gets her scarf, and I will try to encourage her to wear it when next we speak.
- Lauralae
Inside the box is a series of hand wrapped gifts:
Astarion.
You were right, before, when you told me that I had more friends than I knew. Making the list of who I wished to gift to this season has shown me that there are more that care for me than I might have guessed, and that is a blessing. All the same, there are few that I have given as much trust to as you, though I do not know why it may be. Perhaps there is something similar in us, two beings of the same world, but as it stands you are important to me.
You are a dear friend. One of my dearest. I would ask for nothing but your happiness, but I hope these gifts suffice in the meanwhile. Please ensure Shadowheart gets her scarf, and I will try to encourage her to wear it when next we speak.
- Lauralae
Inside the box is a series of hand wrapped gifts:
At the bottom, there's a tiny, matching version of the scarf that looks perfectly suited for a chicken to wear. ]A mixture of different ingredients for the making of perfumes (lavender, cardamom, bergamot, rose) tied together with a careful string, untouched other than the gathering (or purchase, thanks Gale). A set of fine notebooks, made of what seems like the most high quality of papers, and an ink pot and quill. There's also a normal modern pen, just in case he hates the ink. She wasn't sure. A set of gloves and a scarf, black with some golden accents, lined along the edge with decorative swirls and pretty patterns. One handkerchief, with a slightly wonky hand-stitched A.A. in one of the corners. A hand carved wolf, with a little chicken nestling beside it, asleep. It's not perfectly done, but it's handsome enough.
[ On Christmas morning, Astarion will find a stack of gifts, slid through the crack in the door separating their rooms (rarely closed, for reasons he neednโt explore at present). Each gift is wrapped neatly, with separate tags in Galeโs signature, cramped hand that offer clues to what lies within.
And so, tied on a silver ribbon, his final gift catches the orbโs light: A red, sunstone ring, the same shade as Astarionโs eyes (at least in Galeโs admittedly studied opinion) and spelled to fit just right on whatever finger Astarion deems suitable. ]
โข For the cold, which you so abhor โ A blanket scarf, spelled to warm when tugged on or adjusted.
โข For boredom, which plagues us all โ The first book in a trilogy, a tale of grand adventure and romance, with a dashing thief as the protagonist.
โข For the short winter days, which are ever so dark and dreary โ A little ball of light that zips out the moment Astarion tears the packaging enough for it to slip through, hovering above his head. It radiates warmth, like a miniature sun. Sometimes, it makes one give chase, but itโs not opposed to staying still.
Astarion,
Thank you for welcoming me to the manor. I fear I would not be half so at ease โ or in good health, for that matter โ without you or your careful hands.
As tempted as I am to wax poetic about our (still growing!) friendship at length, Iโm hoping you wonโt use that impeccable firebolt of yours to burn this letter. And so, with much reluctance and restraint, I leave it at this:
Happy Christmas, Astarion.
Yours sincerely,
Gale
PS โ Youโve not got the eyes right on your mirror image just yet, so Iโve attached a visual aid. Do try not to get so cross with me for saying as much that you donโt bother to untie it and check for yourself.
And so, tied on a silver ribbon, his final gift catches the orbโs light: A red, sunstone ring, the same shade as Astarionโs eyes (at least in Galeโs admittedly studied opinion) and spelled to fit just right on whatever finger Astarion deems suitable. ]
( somewhere between december twelfth and christmas eve, it doesn't take an oracle to divine who sent the gift-wrapped packages deposited in front of astarion's door. the contents within come with a set of clashing aesthetics, once opened:
next to the pile, the inside of a card simply reads: )
For the tartiest of lemons,
I never did get the chance to thank you for the shirt. I wear it fondly.
I'm sorry it took me so long to repay a kindness given to me in dark times.
๐ Alina
๐ a gift basket containing two limoncelli liquers, adorned with baby's breath, and topped off with two large lemons.
๐ a sketch, done in acrylic paints.
๐ a handpainted trinket dish.
๐a custom pearl bracelet, adorned with red craft gems and paint to resemble dripping blood.
๐ and, in good humor: a bottle of perfume, with distinct notes of pomegranate, passionflower, jasmine, gardenia, vetiver, and vanilla.
next to the pile, the inside of a card simply reads: )
For the tartiest of lemons,
I never did get the chance to thank you for the shirt. I wear it fondly.
I'm sorry it took me so long to repay a kindness given to me in dark times.
๐ Alina
[ On Christmas Eve, the manor staff kindly deliver the gifts Alicent prepared for family and friends. For Astarion,
โ Wrapped finely, a tiny box tied with a white bow, containing a ring.
โ Attached, heโll find an envelope sealed with emerald wax, fine paper stock addressed in Alicentโs elegant hand. ]
โ Wrapped finely, a tiny box tied with a white bow, containing a ring.
โ Attached, heโll find an envelope sealed with emerald wax, fine paper stock addressed in Alicentโs elegant hand. ]
My darling husband,
Is it strange that I think of our wedding night often? Perhaps not, for a blushing bride โ but I am a woman grown and weary, so it surprises me still.
Before she died, my mother told me that those who know abundance and warmth best will forever remember their slights, however singular, while those accustomed to pain and grief cannot forget the small kindnesses offered them.
May the new year โ and every turn after โ be so kind to you that you only think on the occasional, irritating slight.
Your dear wife,
Alicent
[The gift comes wrapped meticulously in paper that, while not strictly holiday-themed is nevertheless very appropriate, considering who itโs from. The gift is inside, nestled in pale blue tissue paper: An assortment of candied fruit, nuts and chocolates from the faire, for those of his friends who actually eat. For those who donโt, this portion of the gift is replaced with a simple calendar.
A jar of tea courtesy of Sol & Scroll, because everyone needs more relaxing sleep around here.
For Astarion, a warming poncho-like...thing. Koby's questionable taste strikes again.
The note, on thick, cream-colored card stock, is in a somewhat wobbly, but earnest hand:]
The note, on thick, cream-colored card stock, is in a somewhat wobbly, but earnest hand:]
Astarion -
From one bird to another. Thank you for being so kind. Stay warm, okay? It'll be spring again before we know it.
- Koby
[ neatly wrapped and tied with a wide white satin ribbon is a small book. there are a few bookmarks in the front cover
the note reads in perfectly neat penmanship, which she got an A for in 3rd grade, ]
My mom used to read this to me when I was little. I think you'll be surprised by it.
With Love, Caroline
the note reads in perfectly neat penmanship, which she got an A for in 3rd grade, ]
My mom used to read this to me when I was little. I think you'll be surprised by it.
With Love, Caroline
[ In the strangeness of betwixtmas โ that period between Christmas and New Year, a particularly unreal time for all who inhabit it โ Gale feels as though a line has been drawn, or perhaps crossed, by their gifts exchanged and hands entwined.
He reaches for Astarionโs hand again on Boxing Day, in the quiet of his favourite little library, half to prove to himself that he didnโt dream their intimacy (and half because Astarionโs elegant hand was there, laid flat against the upholstery between them, the promise of where else it might fit held in the sunstone upon his pointer finger). At mealtimes, he leans his chin into the cup of his palm to regard Astarion openly. Looking toward, not away. Something galvanising about the rare instances of the gaze returned. Diligently, he avoids the mistletoe about the manor, when it might โ well, it wouldnโt โ he knows they arenโt, of course โ but it could be counterproductive, in light of whatever miracle is happening to him now.
On the eve of the New Year, Gale doesnโt awaken with the winter light, as he has every morning since his arrival. Instead, he slumbers until the evening, blinking to life with a hungover sort of disorientation, head and heart pounding. At first, he thinks heโll be sick from the strangeness of it all. New-old memories, jostling about his skull. Then, he wonders at the veracity of the recollections, satisfied only when he finds a freshly scarred cut on his collarbone, hard-won in their fight against Myrkul. ]
Where are you?
[ Swiftly realising that might sound ominous or perhaps even demanding, as if Astarion ought to have waited for him while he slept like a lunk โ ]
Iโve good news.
[ He types and deletes said news, consumed by the thought of Astarionโs fluttering features, on hearing it. ]
He reaches for Astarionโs hand again on Boxing Day, in the quiet of his favourite little library, half to prove to himself that he didnโt dream their intimacy (and half because Astarionโs elegant hand was there, laid flat against the upholstery between them, the promise of where else it might fit held in the sunstone upon his pointer finger). At mealtimes, he leans his chin into the cup of his palm to regard Astarion openly. Looking toward, not away. Something galvanising about the rare instances of the gaze returned. Diligently, he avoids the mistletoe about the manor, when it might โ well, it wouldnโt โ he knows they arenโt, of course โ but it could be counterproductive, in light of whatever miracle is happening to him now.
On the eve of the New Year, Gale doesnโt awaken with the winter light, as he has every morning since his arrival. Instead, he slumbers until the evening, blinking to life with a hungover sort of disorientation, head and heart pounding. At first, he thinks heโll be sick from the strangeness of it all. New-old memories, jostling about his skull. Then, he wonders at the veracity of the recollections, satisfied only when he finds a freshly scarred cut on his collarbone, hard-won in their fight against Myrkul. ]
Where are you?
[ Swiftly realising that might sound ominous or perhaps even demanding, as if Astarion ought to have waited for him while he slept like a lunk โ ]
Iโve good news.
[ He types and deletes said news, consumed by the thought of Astarionโs fluttering features, on hearing it. ]
[ It's as though everything suddenly shifts just a touch left of center, a change in timbre that registers to the elf's ears like the chiming of a bell, a bright hum that affects the colors of Saltburnt's everyday palette.
They don't really discuss their encounter under the mistletoe โ let alone attempt a recreation outside of the bounds of that magic โ but there are little things: their brief conversation on the Butler app, the exchange of gifts at Christmas, the warm touch of Gale's hand the day after, when, by rights, the enchantment of the holiday air ought to have worn off at least a little. And the way Gale looks at him when they sit to partake in mealtimeโ Astarion mirrors him once, a smile curling his lips as his chin drops into his palm, as he asks, what are you looking at, then? Two birds on a branch, to anyone else looking, with no attention to spare for anything else around them.
He learns how to issue an invitation, for lack of a better phrase. To make himself available โ not yet brave enough to really take initiative, but to allow room for it to be taken, in the small bits and pieces with which he's comfortable with it. His hand laid between them, for instance.
On the last day of the month โ the year โ it doesn't escape his notice that Gale is late to wake. He pauses for a moment (two, three) in the bathroom that separates them, listening long enough to ensure Gale is still breathing before deciding that he can leave well enough alone for the day, if not necessarily longer. He's still here, after all. Were he to be spirited away, it would have happened already.
Granted, that apparent ease is belied by just how quickly a response springs to life on the screen of Gale's phone. ]
Oh? Not a sudden superhuman knack for slumber, surely.
[ And then, following the beat it takes for him to recognize that, were Gale willing to divulge said news over text, he already would have: ]
Shall I return to our rooms?
They don't really discuss their encounter under the mistletoe โ let alone attempt a recreation outside of the bounds of that magic โ but there are little things: their brief conversation on the Butler app, the exchange of gifts at Christmas, the warm touch of Gale's hand the day after, when, by rights, the enchantment of the holiday air ought to have worn off at least a little. And the way Gale looks at him when they sit to partake in mealtimeโ Astarion mirrors him once, a smile curling his lips as his chin drops into his palm, as he asks, what are you looking at, then? Two birds on a branch, to anyone else looking, with no attention to spare for anything else around them.
He learns how to issue an invitation, for lack of a better phrase. To make himself available โ not yet brave enough to really take initiative, but to allow room for it to be taken, in the small bits and pieces with which he's comfortable with it. His hand laid between them, for instance.
On the last day of the month โ the year โ it doesn't escape his notice that Gale is late to wake. He pauses for a moment (two, three) in the bathroom that separates them, listening long enough to ensure Gale is still breathing before deciding that he can leave well enough alone for the day, if not necessarily longer. He's still here, after all. Were he to be spirited away, it would have happened already.
Granted, that apparent ease is belied by just how quickly a response springs to life on the screen of Gale's phone. ]
Oh? Not a sudden superhuman knack for slumber, surely.
[ And then, following the beat it takes for him to recognize that, were Gale willing to divulge said news over text, he already would have: ]
Shall I return to our rooms?
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