[ As Astarion flits past, Gale follows that fleeting touch as if pulled on a string, turning after him. A crooked, sleep-soft smile chases the contact, only displaced by Astarionโs comment on the somewhat haphazard state of him. Canโt help but adjust the vee of his jumper and card a hand back through his hair, tidying. ]
Yes, well. [ A wobbly gesture of approximation, before he flicks his hand out to push through to the point. And at pace, ] Fortunately, my thorough research on arrival prevented any undue anxieties about my health โ or sanity, for that matter โ after missing the better part of the day.
[ Babbling ahead of himself, he crosses the rich plum curtains of his four poster to meet Astarion in the heart of his room, framed by his open balconette. Itโs at that moment that he notices Astarion regards him on an angle, which he tries to measure by sight alone until his fingertips brush his cheek. Seeking a forgotten smear of ink and finding none, they stray to catch the dropped opal instead, more out of habit than cleverness. The feel of it galvanises him, of course, an entirely divergent weight and shape from the pointed star that Mystra gifted him so long ago. ]
Oh โ I finished attuning it last night. [ A rushed explanation as to why heโs wearing it now, though it doesnโt quite account for his sudden, creeping flush. The admission robs him of higher thought, too wide eyes searching Astarionโs posture for discomfort and noting the faint lavender hue of his shirt in the process. Fetching, to be sure. Whyever should that warm him so? ] A long overdue change, though you mustnโt tell Tara Iโve confessed as much.
[ When they meet in Waterdeep, a fantasy made more real by the events recalled. (As for Tara, she spent a not-insignificant amount of her time toppling the Mystra statuette on his desk every morning until it finally cracked.) ]
no subject
Yes, well. [ A wobbly gesture of approximation, before he flicks his hand out to push through to the point. And at pace, ] Fortunately, my thorough research on arrival prevented any undue anxieties about my health โ or sanity, for that matter โ after missing the better part of the day.
[ Babbling ahead of himself, he crosses the rich plum curtains of his four poster to meet Astarion in the heart of his room, framed by his open balconette. Itโs at that moment that he notices Astarion regards him on an angle, which he tries to measure by sight alone until his fingertips brush his cheek. Seeking a forgotten smear of ink and finding none, they stray to catch the dropped opal instead, more out of habit than cleverness. The feel of it galvanises him, of course, an entirely divergent weight and shape from the pointed star that Mystra gifted him so long ago. ]
Oh โ I finished attuning it last night. [ A rushed explanation as to why heโs wearing it now, though it doesnโt quite account for his sudden, creeping flush. The admission robs him of higher thought, too wide eyes searching Astarionโs posture for discomfort and noting the faint lavender hue of his shirt in the process. Fetching, to be sure. Whyever should that warm him so? ] A long overdue change, though you mustnโt tell Tara Iโve confessed as much.
[ When they meet in Waterdeep, a fantasy made more real by the events recalled. (As for Tara, she spent a not-insignificant amount of her time toppling the Mystra statuette on his desk every morning until it finally cracked.) ]
โ Does it suit?