thirsted | SALTBURNT

Always.

[ There's more that he types out — even after all these years — but he thinks better of it, and it's turned into a sort of one-word game, besides. ]

A blessing and a curse, as most things are. A shame we don't encounter more of the former alone.

[ so this IS a sex castle. ]

Agreed. My brief visit to the Otherworld has assured me I’m right to avoid it.

You visited the club?

[ Following a longer pause: ]

And found it not to your liking, it seems.

For curiosity’s sake, and at the request of another, whom I thought should be accompanied on their first journey, even if I didn’t wish to linger.

[ an easy (and true) answer. ]

There are similar places all over Waterdeep, though the majority devote their pleasures to Sune and Shar. One bearing Mystra’s token would certainly draw attention, if they visited, and I’m the courting kind, besides.

So, no, not to my liking, but I wouldn’t judge others for partaking. Something for everyone, isn’t there.

[ wait. ]

Is it truly so surprising that I would attend?

I'd merely assumed you'd rather keep company with a stack of books, had you the choice. Would you have been happier if I was under the impression you were [ WHY IS HE TYPING THESE WORDS ] insatiable on a carnal level?

Though perhaps that was the correct assumption — who so kindly requested your presence?

[ brain shutdown occurs somewhere around ‘insatiable carnal desires’.

then, typing dots. ]

You’re teasing me. I can tell, even in writing. Anyone would want to see what the fuss is all about.

[ but most people who enjoy the club don’t use phrases like what the fuss is all about. ]

[ in a series of separate messages — ]

Ah, well.

Let me clarify that I accompanied her in the interest of ensuring a truce between us all and learning more of Tilanus, in the first instance.

And because she asked nicely, I suppose.

That is to say, Orin.

[ don’t be mad 🥺 ]

[ Swiftly replacing a very dubious "would they?" at Gale's first text: ]

Orin.

The one who stabbed you, Orin.

[ say psych right now ]

GALE

It sounds terrible in that context.

[ and every other context. ]

She promised not to stab me again.

And if a fox promised not to eat every hen in the coop, would you let it roam freely?

Am I a hen in this metaphor?

[ not important actually (a little important) ]

There’s no serving Bhaal in this place, with the impermanence of death, so she’ll not kill. She is a Chosen without her god, Astarion.

I’ve never known another.

[ Cast out or taken beyond the gods’ reach, it amounts to the same thing. They’re lost. ]

Edited 2024-12-09 09:45 (UTC)

Once I would have said the answer to that question was obvious, but I may have to rethink the metaphor — Shadowheart would never put herself in such danger.

[ As for the rest of Gale's message, there's a long pause before Astarion responds. A storm plays out in miniature: a strange sort of sting at being clearly marked outside of their circle at the same time as he understands it to be a curse; the urge to ask if he truly is blind— but he supposes he largely would be, given the differences in their timing. ]

Bhaal demands pain, cruelty, and destruction, not death alone.

[ What he bites back: Every god is a blight. None will accept a complete stop to a subject's devotion. ]

Don't get yourself killed.

[ Then, quickly, ]

I'm not a cleric. I won't waste my time on a wound that insists on reopening itself.

I understand.

[ That he has disappointed Astarion again and, as such, is undeserving of further assistance. A fair punishment.

It’s only that what Astarion describes — a wound that insists on reopening itself — might apply to Gale beyond this instance of questionable judgment. One must be a glutton for punishment, to serve a goddess that would ask for death. ]

You realise, however, that if I do not detonate the orb at Moonrise Towers, I’ve merely granted myself a stay of execution. It is not Orin who holds my life in her hands.

[ If Mystra releases him from her protection, its consumption will advance, unchecked. A death in service of none. Utterly meaningless. ]

I do not see a third path, at present, but I am looking.

[ With Orin, with Astarion. It’s the best he can do. ]

[ Something that Astarion has kept to himself, a fear that he hasn't allowed anyone else to even begin to perceive, is the thought that, though their paths have been the same up through Gale's recollection, that perhaps they could still diverge. That he'll disappear and simply— never come back. Not because of whatever methods this place has of spiriting souls away, but because he's detonated the orb in his chest, because he's—

—dead.

He types then deletes the words look harder, frustration and fear curdling into something he's even less comfortable with. ]

What is all that cleverness for, if all it offers you is two paths through the same woods?

[ But, to curb any further argument for the moment: ]

I believe you.

[ I don’t mean to disturb what peace you’ve found here typed and deleted, blinking dots the only evidence they were ever there. A shade too pathetic, even for Gale.

Astarion has already answered the question he dare not ask, in this moment. Find another way, than the path of least resistance and an end to the ache.

Finally — ]

Thank you.
I’ll endeavour to be worthier of that belief than I’ve been, of late.

SALTBURNT | inbox.

no subject

no subject

1/2

no subject

no subject

2/2

1/2

no subject

1/2

2/2

1/3

2/3

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject