Chapter Text
Blood rushed through his mind as he stabbed and stabbed the poor tiefling bard. His heart pounded with excitement, licking his lips as he saw the gruesome scene that had slipped his memory. Feverishness infected his shaking hands as he reached for a hot stick to prod a poor, tortured prisoner. Moreso when he killed his goblin audience.
So why was he shy now ? Morbius, the supposedly fearsome half-elf. At least he would suppose, considering the thoughts of violence clouding his every waking thought, filling his mind past his skull and through his fingers.
Not tonight.
Tonight, his mind was clear as he watched Gale’s arms move. As he simply copied the movements, the phrases. The gentle touch of the weave, the sweet taste. He may have been a bard, but casting magic this way was… well, mystical. Unique.
It was horrifying.
Scarier than the mind flayers. Scarier than becoming one of them. Scarier than a knife to his throat– though that’s more fun than scary. Morbius felt safe. And safe was the worst he could feel. An unfamiliar sense of security and belonging infested his violent, clouded brain; clearing out the mess that had been made, even if just for this moment.
He looked over to Gale, into his eyes. Dark and tender as ever. His heart was racing as he glanced around– he knew that anything he could think of, anything he could imagine , would be seen by Gale. Maybe he could scare him, threaten him? Picture his head on a spike? No . Morbius turned to what could have been: the hand.
Gale’s hand rested by his side, the hand that had stuck out of the portal. Morbius thought back to it, reaching out. He could’ve cut it off, held it tender as he traveled.
And so, he imagined holding Gale’s hand.
“I…” Gale’s eyebrows raised. “I didn’t think…” He glanced away sheepishly before turning his gaze back on Morbius. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting… but it is a pleasant image to be sure.”
Morbius quirked an eyebrow. Pleasant? Perhaps his imagination wasn’t vivid enough, though… Maybe if Gale wasn’t so attuned to blowing up, Morbius could take the time to lay him to rest, brush his hair out of the way… Stab him right in that pretty little chest, in that perfect spot ever-so-conveniently circled… Maybe he would then be able to saw off the hand attached, carry it around as a memoir.
That certainly isn’t a thought for the first date– is this a date? Morbius thought a moment longer before he felt himself fully re-immersed in a cold, dark, violent world.
Gale let out a somber breath. “There it goes.” His frown stirred an unfamiliar sadness in Morbius, an unfamiliar longing to return. If only he knew how to call upon the Weave, demand Mystra allow them more time in such a state. “How easily things slip away from us, no matter how hard they were in the obtaining. Goodnight, I enjoyed sharing a moment of magic with you.” He backed away, a smile so sweet, so perfect… If only he could smile like that all the time. Morbius thought of scooping out those warm eyes, eyes that flooded him with a feeling of safety. Eyes that brought him back– and forever will bring him back– to this moment of peace. If he could carry them in a jar, watching them float about… Morbius sighed.
And as he turned around, his eyebrows furrowed. He marched over to a training dummy and began to slash. Hack. Attack . He kept going, his heart pounding and his mind flooded with a new rush of emotions. Overwhelming and unwelcome. How was he to carry on the dark wills of his mind when such sweet safety lay outside it? When peace and bliss could be woven by magic hands warping the world around them instead of bloodied fists wrapped around ever-destructive weaponry. He kept going.
“Easy, soldier!” Karlach called out. “Keep doing that, and you won’t have any energy for fighting tomorrow. Gotta save some of that for the gobbos, yeah?”
Morbius sighed. “Just needed to work on my swings a bit. They’ve gotten lousy as of late.” He grunted as he took another couple swings with his handaxes.
“Maybe it’s best if you call it a night. I’m all for training, it’s just that it’s getting late and I’d like to chase some sheep.”
He was silent for a moment before finding himself in his bedroll, ready for rest.
His dreams were clouded and muddy. Shrouded memories of a past hidden from him. Less shrouded memories of the night before. His moment with Gale repeated throughout the night. Imagining various ways to respond, various times to attack. Even a time to kiss. He shuddered at the last one.
When he awoke, his heart was still pounding. He squinted under the early morning light, spotting Astarion in the distance.
“Astarion,” he whispered. The pale elf turned toward him.
“What can I do for you, my dagger-happy friend?”
“ Shh . We share a lot of similar opinions, do we not?” Morbius approached, his voice hushed so as to not wake up any of the other companions.
“Well, I can certainly respect your more… violent instincts. They make for the best shows.”
“Do you have any strong thoughts on emotions? Like, feelings? I think I’m having one of those right now.” The two shuddered.
“Oh, the nightmare.” Astarion smirked. “What kind of feelings are you having, darling?”
“Well, Gale–”
“Gale?” The smirk quickly fell from his face. “ That Gale?” He pointed towards the snoring wizard. Drool tried to race down his face, instead getting caught in his beard and pooling up before it continued down toward his pillow.
“ Yes, Gale. He showed me– He took me– I don’t even know how to describe it. It felt…”
“Maybe, just maybe, have you thought of not telling me what it was like? A night with Gale? ” Astarion could hardly hold in his laughter. Morbius rushed to put a hand over his mouth, and Astarion grabbed his wrist. “I’m sorry, do carry on. I guess. ”
“It wasn’t even sex! It was just a magic trick. He did something like–” Morbius imprecisely replicated the hand movements – “and he said something like–” and fumbled through the words, finishing by moving out his hands in a magical motion– “then it felt like I was untouchable! Like I didn’t even want to think of suddenly killing anything. Not even a fly.”
“Sorry for your loss?”
“You’re a fellow man of sanguine taste. Surely you know how to fix something like this– should I filet him? Well, I can’t do that because of that damned bomb–”
“I mean, fellatio could certainly be one way to fix him up. You’ve seen his posture as of late, haven’t you?” Astarion wiggled his shoulders, showing off his superior posture.
“I meant filet, like a fish?”
“ Oh . Are you in love with him or not? I’m getting some mixed signs, darling, and it’s honestly too early to understand what’s going on.”
“ Love? ” Morbius glanced over at Gale, his face heating up as he watched him sleep. How easy it would be to sneak over and play with his hair before slitting his neck. How beautiful a head would be, severed from his body and kept for future admiration. His heart pounded at the thought, euphoria filling his brain.
Astarion chuckled. “Oh dear . Seems like somebody has a crush and they’re awful at hiding it. You can only hope someone as bookish as Gale can take a moment to realize what’s going on.”
“You don’t have any advice?”
“No, but I do want to grab one final snack before everyone else wakes up. Goodbye and, honestly, good luck.”
“Astarion–!”