[ It's not as if he wants to go into detail about the complicated reasons for his rakish behaviour, not right now, and for a moment he does little more than idly play with the threads of his silk shirt, considering what he ought to say in response. His behaviour - flirtatious, idly so, as if it comes naturally (it does) - would lend itself to such a diagnosis of his attitude, but...
It was rakish seduction or another year imprisoned. Rakish behaviour or punishment. He had quickly learned which one was preferably.
Forcing a little laugh to his face, Astarion waves a hand, brushing the notion aside with an easy flourish that comes second nature to him these days. ]
Very well, I admit it. A rake I am, through and thought. It tends to be quite appreciated by those who witness it, I'll have you know.
[ With the attitude of an adult patting a child's head: ] I'm sure your devil-may-care charm has captured many a heart.
[ There's far more interesting things about Astarion than his debauchery, but his head is plenty big enough already without being told that. Let him get knocked down a peg. Or maybe three.
Gale isn't the most socially perceptive, but even he can tell when the vibe is off; he sets the book aside and gets to rifling through the stack again. Too dry, too soppy. Too long, too short. The kind of books someone reads make a statement about who they are, and he certainly doesn't want the statement Astarion gets to be 'booooooring'. He holds up another book, the cover embossed in gold. ]
Perhaps this one. It follows a gentleman thief and his detested rival, a detective, as they must work together to clear their names of the murder they've been accused of — quite thrilling, really. And the ending— [ Ah. He stops himself. ] Well. I suppose that's for me to know and you to find out.
[ With all the authority of a petulant little child who has been told he's doing a very good job.
Astarion watches Gale go through his books and he finds himself just a little bit amused by the process of it all. This seems almost important to the wizard, and yes, he will be judging whatever tome or text he chooses to bring out next, but he finds himself almost touched at the care being given.
Almost. Wouldn't do to be considered soft, now, would it?
The gold immediately catches his attention, and he peers at it carefully. ]
No, no, no. Do not spoil the ending for me. Give it here.
[ Gale doesn't attempt to hide the proud grin on his face, pleased with himself for choosing well enough to pique Astarion's interest. He stands, book in hand, and makes a move to surrender it to Astarion — before thinking better of it. He holds the novel close to his chest, protective. ]
Some ground rules, if you will.
[ Allowing Astarion to borrow the book is meant as a kind gesture, but it has its limits. For the past year, these books were some of Gale's only friends. Even disregarding his natural perfectionistic desire to keep them pristine, he thinks they've earned a certain level of treatment that he needs to be sure Astarion will commit to. ]
Do not put pressure on the spine. Use caution when turning the pages. And the respectable way to hold one's place is with a bookmark, not a folded corner.
I do know how to read a book. I am over two hundred years old.
[ He especially knows how to read a book that needs to be taken care of. Astarion might well be a bit of an ass - he would admit that to anyone who asked him, no matter the occasion - but he wouldn't go out of his way to be that deliberately cruel. The books are important to Gale, so that means he will at least attempt to treat them with proper respect.
If he had any prized possessions to speak of, he might be just as careful with them, but alas, he only has himself. The decorative items around his tent are handsome, and expensive, but don't mean anything to him. Not in the grand scheme of things. ]
[ Astarion was supposed to say something like, "Oh, yes, I pinky promise I'll be the gentlest vampire there ever was." ...But this will have to do. ]
It wouldn't do to deprive you of the greatest gift of all — the occasion to earn my trust.
[ He relinquishes the novel to Astarion with a flourish, unbothered by any offense he took at Gale's rules. It's clear that the content of Astarion's character will be judged by the condition in which he returns this book, for good or ill. If Astarion can treat one of Gale's precious possessions kindly, that speaks well of him. If he can't, perhaps an errant fire bolt finds him when he least expects it. ]
Besides, it's been quite some time since I had the chance for intelligent conversation with someone other than a tressym. It would be a waste to throw away the opportunity to engage in some spirited literary discourse.
[ Gale tries very hard to make this sound like a coveted opportunity for intellectual dialogue and less like mandatory book report with a lonely wizard. ]
[ These days, it's rather rare for Astarion to do anything like he is supposed to do - the whole point of throwing away the mantle of being controlled and finding some measure of peace in the man you've become. Something like that - not that he thinks about it terribly often.
Anyway.
Astarion takes the book carefully enough, turning it in his hands before he opens it to the first page to have a quick glance through. He is gentle with it, despite his irritation and the flick of a glare he laid Gale with, careful if all things like nails and errant hair and the like. As much as it might be novel to torment the wizard, he has no reason to be this brutish.
Lifting his head back up, he closes the book with a careful snap. ]
Are you telling me you distrust me, after all we've been through? How heartbreaking.
[ He sounds utterly desolate. In the most sarcastic way possible. ]
I'll read the book and, if I enjoyed it, we can discuss it.
Oh, please — prepare yourself to be delighted. After all, you've a recommendation from a man of incomparable taste.
[ And he's modest, too! With all the thought he put into picking this particular novel for Astarion to read, he had better enjoy it. It's a little more exciting, a little more bloody than his usual fare. He figured Astarion might appreciate something more thrilling. Of course, it's not entirely solving murders and running from the guards; there's the unlikely bond that forms between two sworn rivals, too, but that seems less of a selling point for Astarion. He doesn't strike Gale as the type to be invested in real people's relationships, much less fictional ones'. He likes to think that this will be the story to change that. ]
As works of fiction go, I assure you it's among the greats. I'm quite fond of the character of Detective Morin myself. A polymath and prodigious investigator, intellect second to none. [ With slight irritation in his voice: ] Some may find him egotistical, but I dare say they lack reading comprehension.
[ He relates to this character. Perhaps a little too much. ]
Yes, your taste is easily the most noticeable thing about you.
[ Is that shade about his choice in wizarding robes? Perhaps, but who's to say.
Astarion is, in fact, going to sit down and read this book; not just because it was offered to him, and he would apparently like it, but also because he's going to be bored otherwise, lounging around in camp, so he might as well do something useful with his time. If it means he earns a little favour with one of their magical companions, then surely that's just a little plus.
He cannot help, however, the way his lips curl into a smirk as he draws the book against his chest. ]
Would you say, perhaps, that he is one of your favoured literary characters? You seem to have the impression you've a lot in common, Gale.
[ Because Gale is also intelligent but also egotistical and, from the sounds of it, both could be considered irritating on a bad day. ]
[ Gale chuckles sheepishly, as if exposed. Make no mistake, however: he finds great joy in Astarion comparing them, even if it was only due to Gale's own words. Underneath his modesty, he's practically glowing with excitement to have the opportunity to liken himself to such a bright character. ]
I suppose, if one were to compare him and myself, they'd find we share a number of characteristics. We've both had a lifelong relationship with and deep affection for that most enticing of paramours: learning. [ Said in the most sickeningly genuine tone one can imagine. ] We've both a dogged dedication to pursuing our chosen craft. Ah — and as of recently, we share robust facial hair.
[ Gale strokes his beard, just in case Astarion has gone this long without noticing. ]
I'm sure it comes as no surprise that I would identify with such a character.
You can summon all those descriptors for yourself, and all I get is rake? Tsk, tsk, Gale.
[ Astarion is so easily teasing him, poking fun at his own self appreciation. While he might make a good game of pretending to have arrogance and confidence (he's aware of his own handsomeness, of course, and his skills, but more of it is bravado than he would like to admit) there are limitations to what he can do or say, and the walls are being worn down the more time he spends with this group.
Tucking the book under his arm, he sighs. ]
Tell me, does this menace also have a paramour that he is fascinated with that is below him, or has he found his sanity?
[ Has Astarion just said that Mystra herself isn't good enough for Gale, even if subtly?
[ Of course Gale waxes poetic about himself. No one else is going to do it for him.
Sunnily, before he's fully grasped the intent behind Astarion's words: ] That's where we differ. The detective is married only to his job, a true bachelor— [ Then, as his mind catches up with his mouth, he stops himself, bristling in offense. ] Oh.
[ He splutters for a moment, uncertain how to respond to such a disrespectful notion. Leave it to Astarion to blaspheme so flippantly. ]
Mystra is no longer my paramour, thank you, [ he finally clarifies, as if this is somehow important. Their relationship is over and he's being so mature about it. ] And I know you've no love for the natural order of things, but to claim her beneath any mortal is preposterous. She's the very essence of magic. Power incarnate.
[ 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.
[ 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. ]
[ 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?
[ 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. ]
[ 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. ]
[ 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.
[ 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.
[ 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.
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.
[ Gale folds his hands behind his back, smiling sweetly, the very picture of innocence. ]
I have no idea what you mean.
[ Ulterior motive? Him? Never! His pick was entirely altruistic, merely for Astarion's enjoyment. If there's a certain similarity between the characters and themselves, that's purely coincidental. If their unlikely relationship plants the idea in Astarion's head that he should be nicer to Gale, it's a happy accident. ]
But if it soothes your worries, I assure you, they share the limelight. Soon enough, the cat-and-mouse game is put aside for much greater concerns.
Of course you don't. We could never believe the intelligent, masterful Gale of Waterdeep be oblivious to something.
[ Shaking his head, he sighs softly. Perhaps he will enjoy the book. Perhaps not. Either way, he wonders just what he will learn about Gale from reading it - especially if he identifies with it so much. Curious. ]
Do you intend to spoil the entire novel, or might I get a chance to read it?
You know, some would argue that hearing the story from the mouth of the 'intelligent, masterful Gale of Waterdeep' is a luxury.
[ It's him; he's some. He raises his hands, palms out, in a gesture of defeat. ]
But fine — have it your way.
[ He mimes locking up his mouth and throwing away the key. Astarion shall get no more spoilers out of him, no matter how difficult it is not to spoil the entire story right now. He loves to hear his own opinions, and even more so to tell others what their opinions should be. Quite frankly, he deserves a medal for not spoiling more.
With a hand over his heard, and sickening sincerity: ] I shall wait with bated breath for your thoughts.
Those people have not enjoyed an evening of silence with a rather wonderful bottle of wine.
[ Astarion will never be some, not unless there is some benefit for him - such as Gale giving him said bottle of wine, or offering him something worthwhile. Another time, perhaps.
It would be so easy, Astarion thinks, to make light of this, to not bother reading the book at all and pretend as though it is the worst drivel he has ever read, but unfortunately he has read some of the rambles of his fellow spawn. Any written work will be better than the rattling thoughts of someone lacking enough braincells to be considered sentient, so he must relent.
He is going to have to read the blasted book.
Heaving a dramatic sigh, he bows his head as if in defeat. ]
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[ It's not as if he wants to go into detail about the complicated reasons for his rakish behaviour, not right now, and for a moment he does little more than idly play with the threads of his silk shirt, considering what he ought to say in response. His behaviour - flirtatious, idly so, as if it comes naturally (it does) - would lend itself to such a diagnosis of his attitude, but...
It was rakish seduction or another year imprisoned. Rakish behaviour or punishment. He had quickly learned which one was preferably.
Forcing a little laugh to his face, Astarion waves a hand, brushing the notion aside with an easy flourish that comes second nature to him these days. ]
Very well, I admit it. A rake I am, through and thought. It tends to be quite appreciated by those who witness it, I'll have you know.
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[ There's far more interesting things about Astarion than his debauchery, but his head is plenty big enough already without being told that. Let him get knocked down a peg. Or maybe three.
Gale isn't the most socially perceptive, but even he can tell when the vibe is off; he sets the book aside and gets to rifling through the stack again. Too dry, too soppy. Too long, too short. The kind of books someone reads make a statement about who they are, and he certainly doesn't want the statement Astarion gets to be 'booooooring'. He holds up another book, the cover embossed in gold. ]
Perhaps this one. It follows a gentleman thief and his detested rival, a detective, as they must work together to clear their names of the murder they've been accused of — quite thrilling, really. And the ending— [ Ah. He stops himself. ] Well. I suppose that's for me to know and you to find out.
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[ With all the authority of a petulant little child who has been told he's doing a very good job.
Astarion watches Gale go through his books and he finds himself just a little bit amused by the process of it all. This seems almost important to the wizard, and yes, he will be judging whatever tome or text he chooses to bring out next, but he finds himself almost touched at the care being given.
Almost. Wouldn't do to be considered soft, now, would it?
The gold immediately catches his attention, and he peers at it carefully. ]
No, no, no. Do not spoil the ending for me. Give it here.
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Some ground rules, if you will.
[ Allowing Astarion to borrow the book is meant as a kind gesture, but it has its limits. For the past year, these books were some of Gale's only friends. Even disregarding his natural perfectionistic desire to keep them pristine, he thinks they've earned a certain level of treatment that he needs to be sure Astarion will commit to. ]
Do not put pressure on the spine. Use caution when turning the pages. And the respectable way to hold one's place is with a bookmark, not a folded corner.
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[ He especially knows how to read a book that needs to be taken care of. Astarion might well be a bit of an ass - he would admit that to anyone who asked him, no matter the occasion - but he wouldn't go out of his way to be that deliberately cruel. The books are important to Gale, so that means he will at least attempt to treat them with proper respect.
If he had any prized possessions to speak of, he might be just as careful with them, but alas, he only has himself. The decorative items around his tent are handsome, and expensive, but don't mean anything to him. Not in the grand scheme of things. ]
If you don't trust me, then keep it.
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It wouldn't do to deprive you of the greatest gift of all — the occasion to earn my trust.
[ He relinquishes the novel to Astarion with a flourish, unbothered by any offense he took at Gale's rules. It's clear that the content of Astarion's character will be judged by the condition in which he returns this book, for good or ill. If Astarion can treat one of Gale's precious possessions kindly, that speaks well of him. If he can't, perhaps an errant fire bolt finds him when he least expects it. ]
Besides, it's been quite some time since I had the chance for intelligent conversation with someone other than a tressym. It would be a waste to throw away the opportunity to engage in some spirited literary discourse.
[ Gale tries very hard to make this sound like a coveted opportunity for intellectual dialogue and less like mandatory book report with a lonely wizard. ]
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Anyway.
Astarion takes the book carefully enough, turning it in his hands before he opens it to the first page to have a quick glance through. He is gentle with it, despite his irritation and the flick of a glare he laid Gale with, careful if all things like nails and errant hair and the like. As much as it might be novel to torment the wizard, he has no reason to be this brutish.
Lifting his head back up, he closes the book with a careful snap. ]
Are you telling me you distrust me, after all we've been through? How heartbreaking.
[ He sounds utterly desolate. In the most sarcastic way possible. ]
I'll read the book and, if I enjoyed it, we can discuss it.
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Oh, please — prepare yourself to be delighted. After all, you've a recommendation from a man of incomparable taste.
[ And he's modest, too! With all the thought he put into picking this particular novel for Astarion to read, he had better enjoy it. It's a little more exciting, a little more bloody than his usual fare. He figured Astarion might appreciate something more thrilling. Of course, it's not entirely solving murders and running from the guards; there's the unlikely bond that forms between two sworn rivals, too, but that seems less of a selling point for Astarion. He doesn't strike Gale as the type to be invested in real people's relationships, much less fictional ones'. He likes to think that this will be the story to change that. ]
As works of fiction go, I assure you it's among the greats. I'm quite fond of the character of Detective Morin myself. A polymath and prodigious investigator, intellect second to none. [ With slight irritation in his voice: ] Some may find him egotistical, but I dare say they lack reading comprehension.
[ He relates to this character. Perhaps a little too much. ]
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[ Is that shade about his choice in wizarding robes? Perhaps, but who's to say.
Astarion is, in fact, going to sit down and read this book; not just because it was offered to him, and he would apparently like it, but also because he's going to be bored otherwise, lounging around in camp, so he might as well do something useful with his time. If it means he earns a little favour with one of their magical companions, then surely that's just a little plus.
He cannot help, however, the way his lips curl into a smirk as he draws the book against his chest. ]
Would you say, perhaps, that he is one of your favoured literary characters? You seem to have the impression you've a lot in common, Gale.
[ Because Gale is also intelligent but also egotistical and, from the sounds of it, both could be considered irritating on a bad day. ]
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[ Gale chuckles sheepishly, as if exposed. Make no mistake, however: he finds great joy in Astarion comparing them, even if it was only due to Gale's own words. Underneath his modesty, he's practically glowing with excitement to have the opportunity to liken himself to such a bright character. ]
I suppose, if one were to compare him and myself, they'd find we share a number of characteristics. We've both had a lifelong relationship with and deep affection for that most enticing of paramours: learning. [ Said in the most sickeningly genuine tone one can imagine. ] We've both a dogged dedication to pursuing our chosen craft. Ah — and as of recently, we share robust facial hair.
[ Gale strokes his beard, just in case Astarion has gone this long without noticing. ]
I'm sure it comes as no surprise that I would identify with such a character.
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[ Astarion is so easily teasing him, poking fun at his own self appreciation. While he might make a good game of pretending to have arrogance and confidence (he's aware of his own handsomeness, of course, and his skills, but more of it is bravado than he would like to admit) there are limitations to what he can do or say, and the walls are being worn down the more time he spends with this group.
Tucking the book under his arm, he sighs. ]
Tell me, does this menace also have a paramour that he is fascinated with that is below him, or has he found his sanity?
[ Has Astarion just said that Mystra herself isn't good enough for Gale, even if subtly?
Perhaps he has. ]
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Sunnily, before he's fully grasped the intent behind Astarion's words: ] That's where we differ. The detective is married only to his job, a true bachelor— [ Then, as his mind catches up with his mouth, he stops himself, bristling in offense. ] Oh.
[ He splutters for a moment, uncertain how to respond to such a disrespectful notion. Leave it to Astarion to blaspheme so flippantly. ]
Mystra is no longer my paramour, thank you, [ he finally clarifies, as if this is somehow important. Their relationship is over and he's being so mature about it. ] And I know you've no love for the natural order of things, but to claim her beneath any mortal is preposterous. She's the very essence of magic. Power incarnate.
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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. ]
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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. ]
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[ 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?
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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. ]
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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. ]
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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.
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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.
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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.
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[ 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.
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I have no idea what you mean.
[ Ulterior motive? Him? Never! His pick was entirely altruistic, merely for Astarion's enjoyment. If there's a certain similarity between the characters and themselves, that's purely coincidental. If their unlikely relationship plants the idea in Astarion's head that he should be nicer to Gale, it's a happy accident. ]
But if it soothes your worries, I assure you, they share the limelight. Soon enough, the cat-and-mouse game is put aside for much greater concerns.
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Of course you don't. We could never believe the intelligent, masterful Gale of Waterdeep be oblivious to something.
[ Shaking his head, he sighs softly. Perhaps he will enjoy the book. Perhaps not. Either way, he wonders just what he will learn about Gale from reading it - especially if he identifies with it so much. Curious. ]
Do you intend to spoil the entire novel, or might I get a chance to read it?
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[ It's him; he's some. He raises his hands, palms out, in a gesture of defeat. ]
But fine — have it your way.
[ He mimes locking up his mouth and throwing away the key. Astarion shall get no more spoilers out of him, no matter how difficult it is not to spoil the entire story right now. He loves to hear his own opinions, and even more so to tell others what their opinions should be. Quite frankly, he deserves a medal for not spoiling more.
With a hand over his heard, and sickening sincerity: ] I shall wait with bated breath for your thoughts.
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[ Astarion will never be some, not unless there is some benefit for him - such as Gale giving him said bottle of wine, or offering him something worthwhile. Another time, perhaps.
It would be so easy, Astarion thinks, to make light of this, to not bother reading the book at all and pretend as though it is the worst drivel he has ever read, but unfortunately he has read some of the rambles of his fellow spawn. Any written work will be better than the rattling thoughts of someone lacking enough braincells to be considered sentient, so he must relent.
He is going to have to read the blasted book.
Heaving a dramatic sigh, he bows his head as if in defeat. ]
A week, then, and I shall return with my verdict.
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