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[thirsted]

WELCOME TO THE SALTBURNT NETWORK

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ASTARION

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[thirsted]

My darling,

A heart, is it? I see it, now, upon explanation. And you'll see it in the shape of my hand, once I grow used to the gesture.

Thank you for the flowers.
Thank you for the book.
I plan to spend my afternoon with them both — to spend my afternoon with you.

Love, in scores,
Astarion

P.S. The culprit you're looking for is only the little picto-keyboard, but I'll look forward to your telling it off, regardless. I desire affection, yes, but I desire it only — ardently — from you.

[ (And he does as promised, finishing the volume in the golden light that filters into their room, and spending a little extra time preparing and then pressing one of the blooms within, once he's done.) ]

[corporeity]

[ Gale folds the note into a neat square, tucking it safely inside his spellbook (alongside their letters from Christmas and correspondence in between).

I desire it only — ardently — from you.

Something he’s known for months now and still delights to see written so plainly. Rather than respond to it directly, he hides a series of responses around their rooms and Astarion’s usual haunts. Every strip of paper holds the same message, though all remain blank until touched by Astarion himself. For him alone, the letters appear as they were written in Gale’s compact, academic hand.

I love you.
I love you.
I love you. ]