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“There you are.” Gale calls, a bit breathless as he climbs over a crop of rocks and into the clearing proper. Dense foliage and the late hour made the trek rather tedious and it’s only because Astarion had clearly been stomping through the underbrush that Gale was able to find him.
“Oh great.”Astarion mumbles, turning from where he’d been drawing circles in the dirt with his dagger. He’s curled in on himself, knees tucked up into his chest and one arm wrapped around them. Although his face is grim and his eyes sharp as knife points, Gale can’t help but see him as vulnerable. “Here to finish me off?”
“What? No, of course not.” Gale replies immediately, stepping closer and taking a moment to dust off his robes. He pulls a twig from where it’d gotten lodged in his belt and looks up to find Astarion still watching him warily. “I’m here to bring you back.”
“Did they not tell you what happened?” Astarion bites back, untwisting some, but also adjusting the dagger with a flourish to something a bit more menacing. Gale raises both hands in an ostensibly placating gesture, but by the way Astarion narrows his eyes, he’s aware that such a thing isn’t dissimilar to his own show of mistrust.
“They did.” And they had, after Gale had caught sight of a wildeyed Astarion rushing off into the forest on his way back from a mid-night relieving. He’d watched, torn between following and investigating the loud cursing coming from the fire. Astarion always seemed to appreciate his privacy though, something Gale understood, so he’d gone with the latter.
“And what? Your bleeding heart extends to vampire spawn that tried to kill your companion?” With another flourish, Astarion springs to his feet, still wary, teeth on show with the severity of his grimace. Gale can’t help but feel a tad foolish for not catching those before now, for not catching all the other signs. He’d been so absorbed in his own head, in the latest bizarre situation he’d found himself in to really pay close enough attention to his companions. The only solace is that Tav had been even more shocked by it.
“Were you going to kill him?” Gale asks with curiosity, letting his hands fall and hooking his thumbs on his belt instead. Red eyes flash to the motion and tense shoulders relax just enough for Gale not to regret it.
“Perhaps I was.” Flicking his eyes back up to Gale’s face, Astarion relaxes further, dager still at the ready, but face now more cautiously curious than outright predatory. “I am but a monster, after all, darling. It’s in my very nature.”
Gale looks at him for a long moment, recalls the desperate fear he’d seen in those eyes for that brief moment tonight and sees the remnants of it in the lines of his shoulders, in the there and gone again tremor of his hand. He thinks of the way Tav had cursed and spat into the dirt, how he’d jabbed a finger into Gale’s chest for suggesting he handled the whole thing poorly. “Better people have died for worse reasons.”
Astarion starts, whether from the words or the anger in Gale’s voice, he’s uncertain. Those eyes narrow more, search over Gale’s face and then he laughs, quick and jagged as the dagger he points towards Gale. “Ah, is that a bit of bloodlust I detect in you, wizard?”
“Not particularly,” Gale lies, moving his hands to ball into fists behind his back. “But I have no shame in admitting I would have needed to feign weeping at the loss.”
“Our shameless leader hasn’t inspired your devotion yet, I take it?” Astarion asks with a smirk, still gesturing with the short blade, but it’s loose, limp and he’s stepped closer so there isn’t half a clearing between them.
“‘Shameless’ seems too kind a word.” Gale muses, takes a deep breath to ignore the memory of those meaty shoulders hitting the ground hard under his magic. Forgets the shocked and half respecting faces of the other’s as he yelled down at the fallen man. He pushes his voice into something lighter, falling into familiar gestures and pedantry. “Perhaps… moronic? Senseless? Or just a very bad meal for our tagalongs.”
“You don’t like him, I take it.” Finally tucking his dagger back away, Astarion walks closer still, looking over Gale as though trying to puzzle out a particularly interesting lock. Gale feels distinctly like prey and can’t find it in himself to mind.
“He’s done little more than pulling me from that portal to inspire any amount of attachment.” Astairon is nearly too close now, standing and looking down his nose at Gale. It should feel condescending, especially after all the convincing Gale had done the last hour on his behalf. Instead, well, Gale has to look away. He flaps a hand at Astarion, “You seemed to get along well enough until…”
“I tried to eat him?” Astarion grins at him, fangs on full display. Still with that curiosity burning in his eyes, Astarion relaxes back and admits, “Yes, I thought so, too. I liked the spontaneity of not thinking a single action through.”
That shocks a laugh from Gale and he asks, “And that’s why you chose him to bite then?”
Astarion rolls his eyes, but when he looks back at Gale there is something a bit lighter there. It’s not quite friendship, perhaps nothing more than amusement at the joke. Still, his voice feels more real, light and caught in a bit of a laugh as he leans forward and half whispers, “Honestly, I thought he was drunk enough not to wake. And stupid enough to let it go if he did.”
“Stupid enough to release a monster that tried to eat him out into the wild instead of killing it.” Gale points out, he’s smiling now, feeding into the change of Astarion’s atmosphere. He looks so much younger without the anger and mistrust around his eyes.
“And you’re not here to finish me off?” He teases, but Gale can still see a hint of that apprehension in his stance, in the height of his shoulders.
“No.” He replies solemnly. Astarion’s own smile slips away and his brow furrows up with something too sad to be called confusion. Surely, he can tell that Gale is only here to help him. “I talked them into letting you come back. I doubt you really intended to drain him.”
Astarion just looks at him, scans over his entire body, catching on the bit of foliage still in Gale’s clothing, to the tear by his elbow that is clearly from a blade and the blossoming bruise on his cheek bone. Every detail seems to draw him up tighter to himself, plays a question at the corner of his eyes. Gale wonders if Astarion finds him idiotic, perhaps pities the effort he’d put into his odd fight with Tav. He is still not sure why he’d gotten so angry about it, why this had been the final tally in his long list of grievances.
“I was only going to take a little.” He hears Astarion say, caught on a whisper and looks up to see he’s crossed his arms and seems no closer to finding whatever he’d been searching for on Gale. “Just enough to-”
He looks away and Gale waits. Perhaps he should let it go, just smile and tell Astarion they should start back towards camp. The other’s will likely have gotten Tav up from the state Gale had left him in by now. Either he’ll still be there and willing to listen to them or have left and not be a problem anymore.
Instead Gale waits, looks over Astarion and wonders. His curiosity has already nearly killed him once, what’s another stab?
“Enough to?” Gale asks lightly and gives into the magnetism as he steps once, then twice, to stand a scant palms length from Astarion’s shoulder.
“Know.” Astarion says with a quickness that implies he’d not really decided if he’d wanted to answer just yet. His eyebrows are tight and if his glare could burn, the bush he’s staring down would be a lake of fire.
“Know what?” What is it about this odd creature that Gale feels so drawn by? What was it about the terror in those eyes that drove him to such shouting, to such violence?
“If I could…” Astarion is looking back at him now, trailing off when he notices their proximity. Gale briefly thinks that perhaps a third question will do the trick, when that pale face twists, sneers and recites like a hated poem, “drink of a thinking creature.”
It costs him something to tell Gale that, to pluck at whatever memory those words sit inside, so with less grace than he wishes, Gale gives him a crooked smile and tries, “Poor choice for that.”
Astarion's laugh is short and loud, clapping into the clearing with a shock. But, some of the tension there is cut, treads of it snapping apart and coiling back into them both. “Did you come to save me just to spite him?”
“No, though I suppose that is a nice benefit.” Gale smiles and then, because he can’t say I saw your fear and hated it or I understand hunger, I understand lies and having a monster inside of you that the others would cast you out for or even, I spent a year wishing someone might chase after me when I made my mistake and no one had and I couldn’t do that to you and I don’t know why, he swallows.
Astarion clearly needs more, so Gale pulls up the niggling fear he’d had stomping through the underbrush after Wyll told him to bring Astarion back. “That Gur we met. He was after you, I take it?”
It’s not what Astarion expected, draws him up short and makes his arms drop to his sides. He covers it well, if Gale weren’t so close and watching so intently. “Put that together all on your own?”
“I’ve had my suspicions.” Gale tells him as though the suspicions had started before this evening.
“Yes, I assume as much.” He bites out, shifting away again and looking out into the forest like that man might approach at any moment. Perhaps he will. Perhaps Gale will hurt another in the name of a basic stranger. “A damn message from my Master no doubt.”
The fear is there again, dark and nearly tangible along the line of Astarion’s shoulders and Gale hates it just as much as before. He takes a risk, lifts a hand and squeezes Astarion’s shoulder. “Better to stay with company then.”
Astarion looks back at him, ridged under his palm, but not shifting away. That question is back in his eyes, the confusion writ across his face. When Gale nods back towards where he’d entered the clearing, off towards where they both know their campsite to be, Astarion lets both drop away.
Gale keeps his hand on that shoulder a moment longer than is likely proper, and uses it to press Astarion into walking alongside him. They fall into silence as Gale climbs back over the rocks again, following the clear path of crushed ferns and shifted branches. It’s not long before even Gale can make out the faint sounds of voices, the smell of smoke from the fire of their camp, and a small bit of its light through the trees. He can feel Astarion’s gaze on his back. It is one of the only things signifying Astarion is still following along, his silent steps and quiet breath muted by Gale’s own huffing and inelegant stomping through the brush.
As the line of Gale’s tent comes into view, Astairon breaks the silence with a simple, “Gale.”
It’s soft, much like the red eyes Gale sees as stops walking and twists to look over his shoulder. Astarion tries a smile at him, crooked and oddly perfect. “Yes?”
He steps closer, something too innocent to be called sultry, but too practiced to seem natural. “If you are in such an altruistic mood, perhaps…”
For a beat the act, and that’s surely what it is, the coy eyes and the demur tilt of his head, slips and Astarion swallows. Gale can’t be sure what face he is making as he turns full around to wait for Astairon’s request.
“That is, maybe you’d…” Astarion tries again, smiles a bit firmer, more predatory and Gale can’t help but feel like he’s playing with him, experimenting with different gestures and words to find a place to strike. It makes a sweat breakout on the backs of his knees. “I still want to know.”
Ah. Of course, Gale thinks. Even though the bit of fang Astarion shows excites something in him, some twisted dark part that is best left ignored, Gale sighs sadly. “You won’t like it.”
Astarion blinks, clearly taken aback, the mask slips off and Gale can see that vulnerable creature that he’d found, lost in the woods and drawing circles in the dirt. It’s hidden again quickly, but Gale knows it’s there now. Wishes he could do something better than cause pain tonight.
“I’m a vampire, I’m certain I’ll like it just fine.” Astarion bites, trying and failing slightly to make it a joke, a tease like they’d found earlier. Gale wants to tell him, I’m no good, not for you, not for anything.. He thinks even, I’ve got a curse, a hunger like yours and it’s eating me already, there’s nothing left for something better. But, Gale is a private person, with private shame and a twisted curiosity that demands it’s chance again.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He says, raising a hand and pushing up the velvet sleeve of his sleep shirt. When he lifts the now bare wrist out to Astarion, all he gets are wide, red eyes staring as though this is the biggest shock of the evening.
“Truly?” Astarion asks, but he’s already crowding closer, already reaching out with cold, shockingly cold, hands to clasp at the offered arm.
“Go ahead.” Gale nods, regretting it already.
“No fear,” is spoken against his skin, moist breath hitting against it as Gale watches that mouth slip open, sharp fangs exposed more and more. “Maybe you're a poor choice for this too.”
“Not in that way, but certainly all the same.” Gale admits and shivers, hard and deranged, as his skin breaks against hard teeth, as soft lips and tongue slide along it. The moment stretches, the world blurs around the edges as Gale zeros in on the tiny shifts of cheek and mouth, as he tracks the exact moment his tainted blood hits Astarion’s tongue.
“Ack!” Astarion spits, yanking back and pulling a harsh hiss from Gale as his fangs tear the wound open more, let thick, too dark blood drip out along his hand. His eyes are angry, mouth a snarl as he whirls to stare at Gale and ask, “What is wrong with you?”
“I did warn you.” Gale apologizes, wrapping his other hand over the wound, pressing hard with his palm and watching as a bit of blood drips out onto the forest floor. He keeps it out from his body to prevent any from leaking onto his clothes.
“You taste like rot. Like your decaying, putrefying beneath your skin.” Astarion is whining, whipping a palm against his tongue and spitting again for good measure. With another glare, anger more real than any emotion Gale’s seen there all night, he demands, “What are you?”
“A man with his own secrets.” Gale’s voice is hard as his palm against his wrist, dark and louder than he’d meant. With a sigh, he discards the defensiveness and is left with just shame. “I am sorry to ruin that for you. You didn’t get anything from Tav, and even less from me.”
“You rather have ruined it.” Astarion responds harshly, looking him over like Gale had come out here tonight just to feed him a terrible meal.
“Yes, I suppose so.” Gale tells him with a roll of his eyes, still holding his wrist and feeling more foolish every moment he stands here slowing his bleeding and getting glared at by someone he’d nearly killed a man for less than an hour ago.
The silence is tense again, tangible and barely shifting as they hear Shadowheart’s voice on the wind and Karlach’s answering laugh. With his tent so close, Gale thinks he should feel more empowered to move away, to step out from the gaze and go lick his wounds, real or otherwise, in peace. Instead, he just stands, arms held awkwardly out from his body and shoulders sagging from the exhaustion of the night.
Astarion’s face softens so slowly, so oddly, that it’s not until he speaks that Gale can see the sadness there again. “Serves me right, I suppose.” He’s still looking right at Gale, eyes locked, mirrored sadness and unspoken thoughts tying them together.
What is it about this odd creature that I feel so drawn by?
A mouth opens, though neither speaks and it’s Astarion that finally looks away, breaks the hold to glance down at his bite and frown deeply. He steps closer, flitters a hand up and back to his side, grimaces and tries again to speak. Fails.
“You’ll have other opportunities.” Gale offers with a poor smile that grows into itself when Astarion looks back at him. The confusion there opens Gale’s mouth again and with a shrug he points out, “We fight enough thinking adjacent creatures.”
The sound Astarion makes might generously be called a laugh, all breath and incredulity. His smile is small and realer for it, when he puts his hand on Gale’s shoulder and pushes. “And now you all know.”
It’s not quite a ‘Thank you’ and Gale’s “That we do,” is nothing like a ‘You’re welcome’, but the guiding shove towards Gale’s tent and the bandage Astarion wraps on his wrist feel something like it.