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[thirsted]

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ASTARION

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[corporeity]

I don't know. We cannot give the girls warning, as with time at their fingertips and fear in their hearts, they managed to poison Ren.

So it is simply that we must be certain. And kind, if we can be.

[thirsted]

[ The tide turns. Astarion watches the wave crest from his place at Gale's side, holding onto his hand until the moment Gale wades into the fray. He stays close — as close as he can, keenly aware of the rising pitch in tempers and his beloved's place in the midst of it all.

Kindness — there's little place for it, in the end, even with the best of intentions, and when Gale is only one part of a larger puzzle.

His fingers slip back into Gale's, when the wizard finally steps away, leading him not away from the fray but at least to its perimeter. This isn't the end of it — can't be, when there's time left before the votes are counted — but it's enough for the moment. ]

[corporeity]

[ For Gale, even amidst the heaving throng, the rising voices — there is no other in the room. It is Astarion he finds, always, both when he succeeds in sharpening a point and when he hesitates to land a proverbial blow. The girls’ obvious care for each other, and the resultant pain of the accusation, trouble him more than any argument. Melissa’s exit, in particular, stills him.

But he watches her go, and finds his turmoil eased by something as simple as a hand in his. It will be harder, as the night goes on, but he takes comfort in the one he knows to be true, above all others. ]