Work Text:
Drunken Fumbling
It was a strange sight, seeing their camp so full. So many bodies cluttered together sharing in joy and revelry and song. Children running around, full of hope, chased by Scratch who could only bark happily as his body wagged fully. His tongue lolled as he trailed after the children, stopping occasionally to sniff or receive a pat from a random tiefling. Scratch wasn’t the only floater at this party. A certain sorceress and seamstress was making her way around the camp, smiling and conversing with all she passed. She was hugged by many and pulled into dance with her kinsfolk, the firelight bathing her in a warm glow. Her hair glowed like rich wine, and the flames bounced in her red eyes turning them into little fires of their own. She was entirely captivating. It was no wonder that everyone was seeking her attention...and everyone was seeking her attention.
But she had yet to speak to him.
Gale tried not to dwell too deeply on this thought. Tried not to obsess over the whys and wherefores of it. His mind was most definitely not replaying their most recent discussions and encounters and trying to attribute a reason as to why Rhea hadn’t sought out his company and conversation. Perhaps it had something to do with the muscular, yet surprisingly charming Archdruid they’d rescued? The same one she was talking to currently, rather animatedly he observed. Her smile was wide and open as she spoke to Halsin, clearly in a deep conversation with the other. Occasionally, the elf’s eyebrows drew together in thought, so the wizard could only hope that their talk was focused on the business of the Absolute and their upcoming journey to Moonrise Towers.
He sipped his drink. It was a poor vintage, but then again who was he to complain about the alcohol kept in a secluded grove? However, he would have gladly sacrificed his unwanted neural passenger for a glass of Waterdhavian red.
Or maybe she had decided to keep Karlach company for the evening. Gale knew that Rhea had come to view the younger woman as like a sister. She was protective and caring to the barbarian and was a constant reassuring voice that every possible option would be explored in their search to fix her engine. Before the festivities had begun, Karlach had expressed anxiety about burning those around should everything become too crowded...Rhea had been quick to assuage those fears and encourage her fellow tiefling to embrace the fun and liveliness of the night ahead.
Gale poured himself another glass, swirling it before drinking.
He wouldn’t be surprised if Lae’zel or Shadowheart had tried to take up all her attention. Both women seemed focused on solidifying Rhea’s opinion against the other. Even after their confrontation, verbal jabs were often thrown across camp and slights made against the other’s ideals. Gale had seen the githyanki talking very seriously – not too out of the usual – with the sorcerer, swiftly accompanied by a similar conversation with the Shaaran disciple. Neither had lasted as long as her liaison with Astarion.
Astarion.
The wizard huffed as he down the wine in one large mouthful, before pouring more of the red liquid into his cup. It was beginning to taste better now that the buzz had dulled his senses a little. He could feel the steady thrum of the orb in his ears and chest as the colours around him took on a fuzzy edge.
Astarion.
The vampire had been trying to get his not-so-metaphorical claws in Rhea ever since she’d allowed him to drink from her. Yes, he was charming, attractive, and had something of an enticing, sexual allure about him...but Rhea’s level-headedness had clashed with his cynicism on numerous occasions. And charismatic though the rogue may be, the fact that he had nearly killed the tiefling multiple times still stood. Gale acknowledged that there was a hardened vulnerability to Astarion, years of torture and manipulation taking their toll, but that didn’t excuse his lack of enthusiasm to change and pursue more morally good choices.
Hells, even the wizard was trying to embrace change – tadpole exempt. As he watched Rhea vanish towards the river, likely to consult Withers or perhaps Wyll – she had taken a liking to Wyll – the wizard tried to focus on how much he had tried to change. While initially sceptical, he had been open about his orbic condition and the dangers it posed. He had confided in her about his tryst with Mystra, though had omitted some of the lewder and harsher details. The goddess, after all, never wanted to be portrayed in a bad light to one of her naturally gifted.
With Rhea, he had been more himself than he had been in a year, and happier too. She was witty and clever and exceptionally talented. Patient also. Gods, she was patient. The tiefling had listened to him ramble about the Weave and Waterdeep for many a night now, never once hinting she was tired of his conversation. The fact that she was also beautiful...well, Gale felt lucky to have met a mortal woman like her. Despite the few greying streaks in her hair and the scar that cleaved through the side of her mouth, resulting in a sweet, crooked smile, Rhea carried an elegance about her that only grew the longer Gale knew her. He felt foolish by how much his heart had been stirred by her. How much she seemed to understand and care for him...though clearly not in the way the man in him hoped.
Who would pick the rotten apple from out of the bushel?
It had felt so much easier with Mystra, but then he’d been a different person. His thoughts were lingering on the goddess when...
“ So, Gale,” The wizard cringed as Astarion threw an arm around his shoulder, teeth bared in a wicked smile. “How is your sad, hopeless pining going?”
Gale scoffed, swallowing another mouthful of wine. It truly tasted better. “I’m hardly pining. It’s been a year or more since Mystra cast me aside.”
The rogue chuckled musically, swirling his own goblet. He wasn’t looking at Gale, instead staring across the camp to where Rhea had appeared and been recaptured in conversation with Halsin. If Gale didn’t know any better, he’d have sworn the druid’s eyes had raked over her chest before meeting her eyes. The wine suddenly tasted very acidic as he choked it down.
“Oh, my dear wizard...” Astarion drew to his ear. “I wasn’t talking about Mystra.”
Wine shot up his nose as he started coughing violently, earning a few stares. Astarion trilled gleefully, not bothering to aid the wizard or even pat his back – except to show off his giggling. Gale was gasping for breath when his eyes caught rose-coloured ones from across the fire, and suddenly he was wheezing all over again. And Astarion had devolved into cackles whilst clutching his middle and sloshing wine over Gale’s boots.
“Is everything alright over here?”
A bubble of air caught in Gale’s throat as both he and Astarion straightened at Rhea’s approach. She frowned at them, leading to the vampire caving and sniggering into his drink. “Oh, everything is absolutely peachy, darling.”
The sorcerer folded her arms, raising an eyebrow at the white-haired deviant. “Mhm?”
“I think I can hear Shadowheart calling me. What’s that dear?”
Quick as he appeared, Astarion scurried away, leaving the wizard and sorcerer alone. The bubble crept downwards, and Gale was forced to clear his throat which caused Rhea to glance at him. Her brow creased in concern, and she put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Are you ok, Gale?”
Ignoring the way the orb (and his heart) skipped at her touch, he coughed a final time. “Perfectly, thank you.”
Up close, he could see a rosy tinge to her lilac skin, likely caused by alcohol and the warmth of so many bodies. Gale took a moment to take her in; how relaxed and carefree she looked. Utterly radiant. “It’s a- uh beautiful night, don’t you think?” He started, hoping to keep her a little longer to himself before she was lost to the throng.
Rhea looked around her, her smile growing. “It is,” she agreed.
“Nothing like a brush with destruction to make one appreciate the majesty of the celestial canvas. It’s a view I would have once shared with my companion. Though definitely unaccompanied by such revelry. She preferred it when we were alone, curled up before a crackling hearth with some ancient, esoteric tome between us, ink glinting in the firelight...”
The tiefling’s smile faltered a little as she looked at her feet, suddenly interested in a daisy on the ground. She sipped her drink. “I’m- I’m glad you and Mystra were able to have such peaceful times.”
Mystra?
“Mystra?” Gale blinked, realising what he had said and how it might sound. “By Ahghairon’s lost nose – no! I speak of Tara, my tressym, assistant, my constant companion through all the ills and tribulations my hubris has thrust upon me. She’d be most impressed by our efforts saving these tieflings,” he looked at the party, “Proud, even. And I’ve given her little to be proud of recently.”
He found Rhea watching him, so elected to continue. Happy to have her attention. “When I was afflicted with my condition, I locked myself in my tower for an entire year. I was inconsolable, wallowing in my self-inflicted tragedy. I’d given up on myself, but Tara never did. It was her encouragement, her research that led me to my treatment. Once we knew that magically-infused items were the key, she went out to find them for me. She saved my life”
It sounded a little silly, hearing how he’d acted once upon a time, but he wanted to show Rhea more of himself. Perhaps, had he been more sober, he would have sounded less self-pitying, but alas not tonight.
“After so long being cared for by someone else, it feels good to have repaid the favour. Not directly to Tara, but to these poor tieflings. I’m sure she would approve.”
The sorcerer smiled gently. “It’s not wrong to rely on other people sometimes.”
Gale chuckled, more to himself than anything. “She said the exact same thing. You remind me of her somewhat.”
“I remind you of your tressym?”
“Yes,” Gods, he hoped that didn’t sound insulting. “There’s a steeliness to you, an unwavering tenacity in the face of, to be frank, quite dire odds.” She laughed. He enjoyed making her laugh. It always brought out her brightest smile. “I would love to make a formal introduction, but that will have to wait for now. Besides, she was always telling me to spread my wings. Find mortal friends, instead of hanging off of Mystra’s coattails. So that’s what I’m doing...I hope.”
“This would be an awkward time for me to tell you I’m actually a cambion in disguise? Or worse, a water nymph.”
The wizard rolled his eyes at her antics.
“Very funny. But as we all know, nymphs are sticklers when it comes to their bathing routines. You, my friend, haven’t been near a fresh spring in a tenday or more.”
Rhea spat her drink a little, frowning at Gale who had yet to process what he had implied. She pulled some of her loose hair to her nose, trying to discern if she smelt bad or unappealing. The wizard carried on...oblivious...
“Not that I don’t appreciate your musk. I actually rather like it...”
Like.
She latched onto the word, stomach aflutter. She knew Gale liked her as a friend, he’d said as much. But deep in her heart, she wanted more. Felt more. Rhea had been treading carefully around the subject, not wanting to overstep the boundaries the wizard had placed after one heartbreak. She had no idea if Gale had perceived her inclination towards him – if he did, he was being subtle – but there was a part of her that doubted whether he had truly moved on from Mystra. After all, he spoke of the goddess with more than bitter fondness.
She had known her share of sadness. Deep and shattering anguish that even now, years and one abduction later, she was still not ready to address. Yes, her body had recovered, and she had locked that part of herself away...but her heart needed a little more time. Rhea shook away the faces of her old life.
“You must have been lonely, with only Tara for company...” Rhea observed, deciding not to pry further. Gale nodded. He had quietly observed a range of emotions pass through the tiefling’s eyes but did not voice that he had seen. He offered her more wine, feeling emboldened and honest.
“Sometimes,” he admitted, “But I imposed it upon myself, after all, I set up enough wards to keep an army at bay, never mind the few colleagues who sought to inquire about my welfare. Tara did her best to keep my spirits up, but there’s only so much one tressym make up for one’s entire social circle. And she was often gone seeking items to treat my condition.”
Gale met her eyes, holding her gaze for a long moment. The world around him fell away, noise muffling and colours blurring. Rhea held his in turn. Her breathing was a little heavy and the wizard’s eyes flicked to her lips briefly as she wet them. He wondered what she might taste like on his tongue. How her skin would feel under his.
“You’re the first person I’ve spent any significant time with in a year or more. Spending time in your company, I realise that I may have left behind the greater part of my wit, and sensitivity, in my tower.”
“Well, I rather like the Gale stood in front of me. I’d like to see more of him.”
He swallowed his mouthful of wine, unable to read the tone of her voice as his brain buzzed – and not from the tadpole. There was something hot and tantalising in her gaze. How it flickered over his face and then back to his eyes. The wizard worried he was reading too much into it...like he had the day he had first told her about Mystra.
He often did that.
Perceived things as different from what they really were.
“I think you’ve clearly had too much wine. As have I. Any misunderstood excitement might tip my condition over the edge, and we certainly don’t want that.”
“Gale-”
“ Go. Indulge in the frivolities.”
“But-”
“Talk, dance, laugh. You don’t want to spend your entire evening tucked away in a corner with me.”
He’d ushered her away before she could protest. His heart raced frantically, terrified as it jumped from conclusion to conclusion. She couldn’t possibly have meant anything more in her words. She was simply being kind, like always.
Gale watched as Rhea walked away from him, missing how she glanced back at him as he filled his cup again. The sorcerer bit her lip, wanting to go back to him. Wanting to shake him silly and profess her clearly unrequited feelings...just so the air between them could finally clear. She was stopped by a small hand tugging her sleeve and looked down to see Umi. The boy tugged her again, pointing at the dancefloor and grunting.
“Do you want to dance?”
He nodded, so Rhea gratefully accepted his invitation though her mind drifted little from the wizard the rest of the evening.
...
Gale’s head throbbed when he awoke the next morning. He groaned as the sun pierced his eyes, rolling and burying his face into his bedroll. Then, someone smacked him hard in the back of the skull. He yelped and shot upright, an action that set his stomach roiling. He dared to open an eye and found Astarion staring down at him in abhorrent bewilderment.
“You told her she smelled and spend romantic evenings with your cat!”