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[ It's amusing, to watch the expression flicker across the wizard's face as he processes what Astarion has said, and he waves his hand. He doesn't much care what Mystra does or does not think about him; much like many of the other Gods in this realm, she had not responded to any of his cries for aid or his prayers. Thus, he has no time for her now, and will not engage in any worship of her being, no matter the intent.
It seems as though Gale has entirely missed his attempt at being complimentary. He sighs, tilting his head and barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes. ]
That is likely for the best. What I said a moment ago? Repeat that.
[ Blah, blah, Gale is better off without her from what little he has heard, can make his own choices, and so forth. ]
That does not mean she is better than you simply because she has power. I can assure you, there are many men more powerful than me who are far less charming and fun to be around.
[ Like, you know, vampire lords. ]
It seems as though Gale has entirely missed his attempt at being complimentary. He sighs, tilting his head and barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes. ]
That is likely for the best. What I said a moment ago? Repeat that.
[ Blah, blah, Gale is better off without her from what little he has heard, can make his own choices, and so forth. ]
That does not mean she is better than you simply because she has power. I can assure you, there are many men more powerful than me who are far less charming and fun to be around.
[ Like, you know, vampire lords. ]
Yes, well. Still. I'm not a leader, so... don't call me that. I'm just like you. Well, not just like. You know what I'm saying. I should just stop while I'm not ahead.
Ramble, fine. And compliment, more fine when I'm the one saying it to you. But if I keep going, you'll never be able to look at me the same and I don't know that I can handle that.
[ Gale scoffs, incredulous at Astarion's boldness to compare the Mother of Magic to simply 'powerful' (and apparently charmless and boring) men. He shakes his head again, unable to even quip back at Astarion's immodest claims. They'll have to go unchallenged for now.
Frustration at being at cross purposes worms its way into his voice. ] You misunderstand. Mystra is not only powerful, she is power.
[ An unimportant distinction to some, but everything to him. She's the embodiment of the Weave. The thing that gives his life purpose. The only reason Gale even matters. He would be a fool not to worship her. ]
Without Mystra, there is no Gale of Waterdeep. [ Metaphorically. Literally, there may be no Gale with her soon enough, but that's another story. ]
Frustration at being at cross purposes worms its way into his voice. ] You misunderstand. Mystra is not only powerful, she is power.
[ An unimportant distinction to some, but everything to him. She's the embodiment of the Weave. The thing that gives his life purpose. The only reason Gale even matters. He would be a fool not to worship her. ]
Without Mystra, there is no Gale of Waterdeep. [ Metaphorically. Literally, there may be no Gale with her soon enough, but that's another story. ]
Is that true?
[ Astarion watches him, expression darker now. This is taking a turn he didn't imagine with his idle prodding at Mystra, but... The book is clutched a little tighter in his hands. There's too much here for him alone to unpick, but the familiarity of it all makes the anger inside of him burn a little brighter. He remembers how it felt, crawling out of his own grave to peer out at the night sky, to see Cazador looming over him, feeling stronger and better at first, but...
Cazador is power. Mystra is power. Not the same kind, but they're both bound in the same way, are they not? ]
Would you say the same of me, I wonder? Without Cazador, there is no Astarion. Is that true, Gale of Waterdeep?
[ Astarion watches him, expression darker now. This is taking a turn he didn't imagine with his idle prodding at Mystra, but... The book is clutched a little tighter in his hands. There's too much here for him alone to unpick, but the familiarity of it all makes the anger inside of him burn a little brighter. He remembers how it felt, crawling out of his own grave to peer out at the night sky, to see Cazador looming over him, feeling stronger and better at first, but...
Cazador is power. Mystra is power. Not the same kind, but they're both bound in the same way, are they not? ]
Would you say the same of me, I wonder? Without Cazador, there is no Astarion. Is that true, Gale of Waterdeep?
Are you so sure of that? I know we haven't always seen things the same way. That I've pulled you into situations you rather would have avoided. I've often wondered if you resented me for it.
Perhaps not if you're still accepting my very poorly-made advances.
Perhaps not if you're still accepting my very poorly-made advances.
[ Gale's eyes widen, a flash of repulsion welling up inside him at hearing Astarion say this — then, anger at the mere insinuation. Astarion's really batting a thousand today when it comes to offending him.
He throws his hands up, exasperated. ]
Hells, Astarion. I think you know very well I would never even think to utter such vile words.
[ Because they aren't true. Astarion's right: he's charming and fun to be around, if caught in the right mood. Cunning. Eloquent. Unfortunately indispensable in a battle and out of it. A fair bit more than just 'rakish', and none of it thanks to Cazador. ]
He throws his hands up, exasperated. ]
Hells, Astarion. I think you know very well I would never even think to utter such vile words.
[ Because they aren't true. Astarion's right: he's charming and fun to be around, if caught in the right mood. Cunning. Eloquent. Unfortunately indispensable in a battle and out of it. A fair bit more than just 'rakish', and none of it thanks to Cazador. ]
[ Astarion’s track record of irritating their local wizard continues, it seems, but he’s not at all offended by this particular anger. It has taken him a long time to come to terms with the twisted relationship he has with Cazador, if you could call it that, and he can recognise the echoes of it. Gale choosing, in some ways, to have this relationship doesn’t make it better.
He doesn’t actually want to continue upsetting Gale, however. Not right now, when he’s picking at a sore wound. ]
I’m sure you can understand the point I’m trying to make. I’ll not go into the details.
[He will, however, take the compliments if and when they’re offered. ]
He doesn’t actually want to continue upsetting Gale, however. Not right now, when he’s picking at a sore wound. ]
I’m sure you can understand the point I’m trying to make. I’ll not go into the details.
[He will, however, take the compliments if and when they’re offered. ]
[ Thank the Gods Astarion doesn't push any further — simply talking about this conjures a sense of disquietude in Gale. He understands Astarion's point perfectly, but it's different for him in ways Astarion couldn't possibly comprehend. Cazador was Astarion's tormentor and jailer; Mystra, on the other hand, made Gale feel loved, important, worthwhile. He'd do anything to feel like that again.
He physically deflates, metaphorical hackles lowering as he boxes up all of his feelings and shoves them into a dusty corner of his mind. No need to lose his cool, nor dwell on this at all.
Willing away any remnants of unpleasant emotions, he says, ] Careful. Continue on this way, and one might get the impression you care. Your reputation would be in absolute shambles.
He physically deflates, metaphorical hackles lowering as he boxes up all of his feelings and shoves them into a dusty corner of his mind. No need to lose his cool, nor dwell on this at all.
Willing away any remnants of unpleasant emotions, he says, ] Careful. Continue on this way, and one might get the impression you care. Your reputation would be in absolute shambles.
[ At least Astarion knows one thing: Cazador would never claim to love his spawn. He tortured them, used their screams for poetry and tormented them, abused his power over them and turned them into broken monsters, but the term love was never part of the equation. He's not sure that he could begin to imagine what the feeling is like, if he's being truthful.
Watching Gale for a while, he takes note of the body language, how careful he is, and tucks it away. Prodding for another time, perhaps, once he's learned a little more, once they've found themselves inevitably closer. Time travelling together has a way of working wonders like that. ]
We can't have that, can we? I'd end up with people thinking I'm, ugh, nice.
[ He shakes his head, scowling. ]
I'll read the book, but if this character is less appealing than you've made him seen I will be furious.
Watching Gale for a while, he takes note of the body language, how careful he is, and tucks it away. Prodding for another time, perhaps, once he's learned a little more, once they've found themselves inevitably closer. Time travelling together has a way of working wonders like that. ]
We can't have that, can we? I'd end up with people thinking I'm, ugh, nice.
[ He shakes his head, scowling. ]
I'll read the book, but if this character is less appealing than you've made him seen I will be furious.
I wouldn't say too nice. I would say that in a world where everything is so unkind, I shouldn't add to it if I don't need to. But perhaps it's true that in a way such thinking is a little naive, well intention or not.
[ Gale feels himself relax now that the conversation topic's moved away from a sore spot. If he had to choose, he'd rather Astarion rant at him all day about how boring his pick of novels was. At least his dramatic flair would make it interesting. ]
And rightfully so. [ Life's too short to read bad books. Particularly their lives, which risk being cut very short via brain worm every day. ] I welcome hearing your enjoyment or your fury.
[ He knows which he'd prefer, of course, but he won't turn down a lively discussion when it's presented to him. After all, he considers himself an excellent debater. ]
But perhaps you'd be more drawn to the detective's usual quarry instead. A notorious thief; as guileful as a fox, but as mannered as a gentleman. A trickster to be sure, yet there's a certain charm.
And rightfully so. [ Life's too short to read bad books. Particularly their lives, which risk being cut very short via brain worm every day. ] I welcome hearing your enjoyment or your fury.
[ He knows which he'd prefer, of course, but he won't turn down a lively discussion when it's presented to him. After all, he considers himself an excellent debater. ]
But perhaps you'd be more drawn to the detective's usual quarry instead. A notorious thief; as guileful as a fox, but as mannered as a gentleman. A trickster to be sure, yet there's a certain charm.
I can. Admittedly, it's part of why I treat you the way I do.
No, no, you want me to read this thing and enjoy it as much as you did, don't lie to me. You're a terribly open book when it comes to literature, Gale, and I'm sure this is no different.
[ Astarion thinks back to the few items of novelty he was permitted to read when he was with Cazador - his Master enjoyed reading, but rarely shared it with his spawn. It wasn't their place to indulge in reading, or enjoyment, it was their place to be subservient, to go out and find things for them. He's read enough books to know a good one, but he'd hardly say that he's well-read.
His fingers tap, tap, tap absently on the cover of the book. ]
Ah, so your intent is revealed at least. You are the main character, and I am the quarry, the well-mannered trickster that is to be hunted. Anyone would imagine you have an ulterior motive.
[ Astarion thinks back to the few items of novelty he was permitted to read when he was with Cazador - his Master enjoyed reading, but rarely shared it with his spawn. It wasn't their place to indulge in reading, or enjoyment, it was their place to be subservient, to go out and find things for them. He's read enough books to know a good one, but he'd hardly say that he's well-read.
His fingers tap, tap, tap absently on the cover of the book. ]
Ah, so your intent is revealed at least. You are the main character, and I am the quarry, the well-mannered trickster that is to be hunted. Anyone would imagine you have an ulterior motive.
No. I respect you too much to do that. It's not even empathy, because it would be insulting if I thought I could even remotely understand what you've been through.
It isn't pity. I thought I made myself clear.
It isn't pity. I thought I made myself clear.
Yes. You were, but if that's what you need to do to cope, then fine. I can live with it. I won't do or say a thing to you, however, that I don't mean.
I'm not entitled to your trust, but I do feel it's worthwhile to earn. So I will do what I can to become deserving of that. Yet, should that never happen, I would respect it.
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