Chapter Text
“Volo non fugia!”
With a brilliant flash of light, Rolan completed the spell and lifted gently off the ground.
“Looks like your studies are really taking off!” Gale congratulated him with a hearty clap, his smile softly illuminated by the last dying glimmer of Rolan’s casting of grant flight.
Rolan rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue at the pun, but made no effort to dissuade his praise. In fact, feeling suitably pleased with himself for executing a rather complex spell on the first try, the tiefling gave an elegant, mid-air bow, grinning smugly.
“Your admirably dogged pursuit of magical mastery and dedication to study pays dividends once again. Keep it up, and they’ll rename the tower after you yet.”
“Well, after all, it’s only natural for so gifted a wizard as I. And with so gifted a teacher as yourself, of course my advancement would only accelerate.”
Gale waved dismissively at the flattery, though his smile never faltered. It was that same smile that Rolan had fallen hard for when they’d first met, the smile that had convinced him to stay and fight alongside the other refugees when every fibre of his being had been screaming to grab Cal and Lia and run for the safety of Baldur’s Gate. That smile could have been his ruin, had Gale been a less scrupulous man. But as it was, it was the thing Rolan most looked forward to in their weekly magic lessons.
“Please, I prefer to think of us as colleagues rather than as master and student. After all, you’re a powerful wizard in your own right. And I’ve been learning my fair share from your esteemed self as well.”
With an awkward laugh, Rolan cleared his throat. A heat rose to his cheeks, and for once he was thankful for his cherry complexion.
“I question the truth of that. Not your sincerity, of course, merely the logistics. Seeing as how you’ve been the one teaching me all of these new spells and not vice versa.”
“Ah, but there’s more to magic than just new spells. New and creative applications of existing spells are just as important in unlocking the truest potential of the Weave. Indeed, many of your self-taught spells - your thunderwave, your color spray - seem to differ ever-so-slightly from their standard descriptions. Much to my elated surprise, I might add. I’ve greatly enjoyed the novelty you bring to old favorites. Something about the way you wield them is…unique. Hells, even the ones you’ve picked up from these lessons of ours never seem a perfect match to expectations.”
As if on queue, Rolan felt a tap against his boot. Looking down, he realized that a host of small objects - from books to quills to the circular carpet they had been piled on - had begun to rise up with him. In fact, it seemed everything within a several-foot radius had begun to follow his example in defying gravity.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Rolan tried to turn away from Gale, hoping to hide the expression of disquiet he knew he’d be unable to suppress completely. However, he found moving in any direction except vertically to be a challenge in mid-air.
“Yes, well. A little deviance from center is the price one pays for self-directed learning, unfortunately. Much like a deal with a devil, the fruits of such an endeavour are often accompanied by…unintended side-effects. I suppose I must still be unlearning whatever bad habits got ingrained from half-understood diagrams and obtusely verbose descriptions of somatic components.”
Stepping forward without hesitation, Gale reached a hand up to Rolan. Somehow, the senior wizard managed to keep his feet to the floorboards all the while, only the hem of his robe beginning to be drawn into the spell’s gravitational pull.
“Far be it from me to debunk a theory without solid evidence to present to the contrary. But if I may offer an alternate theory: perhaps it is not so much the result of inexact methods, but something innate to the caster. Yourself. I’ve never seen another wizard pull on the Weave in quite the same way as you do.”
Begrudgingly taking Gale’s hand, Rolan allowed himself to be pulled back down to earth gently, finally able to concentrate on dropping the effect once he was on stable footing again.
“In any case, why don’t we move on to the next lesson?” Giving himself a reason to pull away from the warmth of Gale’s hand gently wrapped around his own, Rolan stepped over to a side table and picked up their written itinerary. Half of the listed topics were struck through, having already carried them through the better part of a year in this arrangement of shared magical pursuits. “I’m particularly excited to explore our next topic: meta-magic.”
As Gale stepped up beside him, Rolan willed himself to ignore the comfortable warmth radiating from the other man’s presence, beckoning him in like a harpy’s hypnotic melody. There had already been so many close calls, moments when his mind should have been squarely focused on the spells at hand when instead he’d felt nearly possessed to reach out and touch the fellow wizard’s dextrous fingers. On more than one mortifying occasion, he’d even found himself drifting off into a dizzying daydream of what Gale’s beard would feel like brushing his jaw if their lips were to meet. He wrapped his tail tightly around his own ankle to dissuade it from any wandering in the direction of the wizard from Waterdeep.
“I’m sure a caster of your calibre is well aware by this point in your magical career, but pushing an exhausted body with magic is just as dangerous as with physical exertion. We are well ahead of schedule. I suggest we put a pin in it here for today.” With an apologetic smile, Gale reached over, closed the tome they had been reading from, and began to gather their material components neatly back into his pouch. “And it is getting rather late already.”
Rolan turned towards one of the tall windows ringing the level of the tower they had chosen for the day’s practice. Indeed, the sun had set at some point, while he’d been distracted with incantations and feelings entirely unbecoming of a professional such as himself. It was as though that same, ticklish giddiness that had bubbled up in his heart when he had first met Gale at the Grove and made an absolute fool of himself boasting of his then-upcoming apprenticeship was floating to the surface once more. At the time, he’d hoped they might end up orbiting the same circles once they reached the city and settled into their respective routines. He never could have imagined that Gale would save him from the very master Rolan had tried to dazzle him with, nor that they’d end up working together so closely after all was said and done. Whether this stroke of fortune was a blessing or a curse, however, Rolan had yet to decide.
“Seeing as I have kept you so late, how about I treat you to dinner? Homemade, of course.”
Gale’s voice snapped Rolan to attention, and it was all the tiefling could do to keep his tail from snapping rigid in surprise.
“Hmph. Very well. I suppose it would be rather ill-mannered of me to either hold a grudge in the face of such an apology or to turn down such a generous offer.”
“Ah, splendid. Truly, your magnanimousness knows no bounds. Well then, I’ll meet you upstairs at the teleportation circle. Assuming you’ll be testing out your new powers of flight, that is.”
“Ha… I think I’ll take the stairs.”