[ There, again, that most lovely of all syllables β wow. Awe from a man who'd been raised up near godhood, a man who, among all others Astarion knows, could arguably have the least reason to be dumbstruck or wowed by anything ever again. It makes him laugh, helpless and happy, joy edging out any worry that this might be a dream or might not last. ]
"My love," [ he repeats, lashes fluttering. ] You make it sound soβ
[ There's no right word, nothing that properly encompasses the depth of feeling threatening to burst out of Astarion's chest. Flagging, he leans forward again, resting his head against Gale's shoulder as he attempts to corral his thoughts, the scent of lavender as present on Gale's clothes as on the wreath he's holding. Sweet and comforting, a kind of scent easy to call home. ]
I wanted it to be ... right.
[ To be able to choose, to have some agency over the moment, in contrast to how much of the past several months, here and in FaerΓ»n, has been completely out of their hands. The tadpole, their abduction, even the respective masters they'd served, all of it incidental.
no subject
"My love," [ he repeats, lashes fluttering. ] You make it sound soβ
[ There's no right word, nothing that properly encompasses the depth of feeling threatening to burst out of Astarion's chest. Flagging, he leans forward again, resting his head against Gale's shoulder as he attempts to corral his thoughts, the scent of lavender as present on Gale's clothes as on the wreath he's holding. Sweet and comforting, a kind of scent easy to call home. ]
I wanted it to be ... right.
[ To be able to choose, to have some agency over the moment, in contrast to how much of the past several months, here and in FaerΓ»n, has been completely out of their hands. The tadpole, their abduction, even the respective masters they'd served, all of it incidental.
To wit: ] I did want to tell you earlier.