[ He leans into Armandβs cupped hands, having forgotten why he tried to tug himself away in the first place. Arms trembling, tears spilling. That sliver of wrongness persists, worming under his skin. Like the warning he felt in the Shadow-Cursed lands, the shadow-weave spooling around his fingertips. The nudge at his back, when August offered him the soul of some wretched creature, imbued in an object. Mystra would never permit him to be tainted so (and she would β has protected him, in the times before his folly). And Astarion β Astarion β
Everything blurs behind his eyes, shuttered to endure the tidal wave of overwhelm. Astarion and Armand. What Mystra has asked of him and what Armand begs of him now. To die for Her would guarantee him eternity at her side. I wonβt leave you promises the same. Of course he wonβt. An end to his loneliness. A reprieve from the pain of living. Armand understands what it is to be violently left, so Gale believes him when he vows to stay.
β a dream shattered by the rows of teeth under his tongue, the water filling his nose and throat, the pressure in his skull from the drag below. Sunset dapples the water overhead, the horizon of Astarionβs warm gaze. He struggles, finally, forgetting his abilities in his panic. They say drowning is a peaceful end, for how the body accepts its fate and goes. Gale would argue otherwise, shocking them both with an unwisely deployed cantrip, low level electricity fizzling through the water. (Surprising even himself with how badly he wants to live, for all heβs contemplated the end, of late.) Kicking, clawing, screaming β for all the good it does him, taking on more water.
And then heβs on his back, ashore, the trick of teleportation second nature, to a wizard cornered. ]
You β [ Any condemnation snatched from his lungs as he rolls onto his front, water spilling from his mouth. Limbs still twitching, thanks to his haphazard casting. ]
no subject
Everything blurs behind his eyes, shuttered to endure the tidal wave of overwhelm. Astarion and Armand. What Mystra has asked of him and what Armand begs of him now. To die for Her would guarantee him eternity at her side. I wonβt leave you promises the same. Of course he wonβt. An end to his loneliness. A reprieve from the pain of living. Armand understands what it is to be violently left, so Gale believes him when he vows to stay.
β a dream shattered by the rows of teeth under his tongue, the water filling his nose and throat, the pressure in his skull from the drag below. Sunset dapples the water overhead, the horizon of Astarionβs warm gaze. He struggles, finally, forgetting his abilities in his panic. They say drowning is a peaceful end, for how the body accepts its fate and goes. Gale would argue otherwise, shocking them both with an unwisely deployed cantrip, low level electricity fizzling through the water. (Surprising even himself with how badly he wants to live, for all heβs contemplated the end, of late.) Kicking, clawing, screaming β for all the good it does him, taking on more water.
And then heβs on his back, ashore, the trick of teleportation second nature, to a wizard cornered. ]
You β [ Any condemnation snatched from his lungs as he rolls onto his front, water spilling from his mouth. Limbs still twitching, thanks to his haphazard casting. ]