Chapter Text
Gale Dekarios was currently staring at himself in his bathroom mirror, stripped from the waist up. His phone played a mix of some of his favorite music in an effort to hype himself up as he performed basic personal hygiene tasks, all while trying to ignore the tattoo. He trimmed his beard, brushed his teeth, flossed, and washed his face.
Every morning when he had to look in the mirror, he shuddered. Any time he showered or changed clothes, his eyes went to his chest and he flushed with embarrassment and shame. Now as he brushed his shoulder length chestnut hair, he realized he had to do something to fix this. It had been a year since he and Mystra had broken up. It was time to get this gods damned tattoo fixed.
He had met Mystra at a bar when he was an undergrad at Blackstaff University. She was several years his senior, but they had hit it off immediately. Enough that he had gone home with her that first night. One night turned into a whirlwind weekend, and suddenly they were in a relationship. His first, really. At the time he couldn’t understand what she saw in him. He had never suffered from confidence issues: he knew he was bright, often witty, and handsome enough. But she was ethereal. Every pair of eyes in that bar followed her whenever she moved. Yet she had chosen him.
He dove into their relationship with the same fervor with which he tackled anything else in his life. He committed himself fully to Mystra and her happiness. While he was somehow able to maintain his grades at university, his social life, hobbies and most of his other relationships soon suffered. He’d moved in with Mystra within six months, and had gone from seeing his old roommates daily to monthly. He started skipping meetings of the College Democrats, the D&D club sessions and even the cooking classes he’d signed up for. Even his mother, the inimitable Morena Dekarios, couldn’t hold his attention for long. As an only child whose father had left when he was very young, he and Morena had always been extremely close. But now his calls with his mother were often cut short. Mystra seemed to always need something as soon as he picked up the phone. And he was loath to deny her and risk her wrath.
Mystra was much wilder than Gale had ever been and had a mean streak if things didn’t go her way. Most of the time it was just cutting words that did their damage. But occasionally she’d pinch him, or scratch him, and on one terrible occasion, slap him. That night, Gale had dared to question her going out with her friends. While he was almost never allowed to go out without her, she went out almost weekly with her group of friends without him. The last time she’d met them for drinks, she hadn’t come home until the next morning. Gale had called her, texted her, even eventually gone to the bar she was supposed to be at, just before closing. She’d not bothered to return his messages, and neither she nor her friends were at the bar. When she’d finally arrived home a little after nine the next morning, Gale had gone from being an anxious wreck, to an angry one. When he’d told her he’d been to the bar to find her not there, and asked where she spent the night, she had allayed his fears and said she'd simply stayed over at her friend Shar’s place. Her phone had died and Shar’s charger was for a different brand and didn’t work. She’d soothed him, initiated sex (for once), and they’d fallen asleep entwined.
The night of the incident, as Gale had characterized it to himself, she was going out with that same group, and Gale had offered her an extra charger he’d purchased, so that if the same should happen again, she’d have a way to contact him and let him know she was alright. But Mystra had claimed the gesture was controlling. They ended up in a shouting match that ended with her slapping him in the face, hard, and storming out, without the charger. Gale had never questioned her going out again.
It wasn’t until they were almost 10 years into their relationship that Gale realized how isolated he’d become. Wyll, his college roommate and dear friend, had tried throughout the years to get through to him, but he wasn’t ready to admit there was a problem. And as with any kind of addiction, admitting the problem was the first step to recovery. The night that Mystra threw a crystal vase at his head for daring to ask to have dinner with Wyll the next night, was the night he finally packed his bags. Mystra followed him around her house (she’d never given him more than a few drawers and some vanity space in the en suite) screaming in his ear that he would never find happiness without her. That he was nothing. That his work at the University he now taught at was useless and his students didn’t respect him, couldn’t respect a less-than man like him. That no other woman would ever want him. That even with the larger dating pool that his pretending to be queer supposedly opened up, no one would want him.
What she didn’t say was that even she apparently hadn’t really wanted him. She’d been sleeping with other men for the entirety of their relationship. Gale had realized it only about a year before he finally left her, and it still wasn’t enough for him to see that his relationship wasn’t really much of one. He had been so easily blinded by what could be considered the good times. When Mystra was sweet, and gentle. When she was generous and open with him. When she actually let him be intimate with her. But as he gathered what little things he had and stuffed them in his duffel bag, he repeated to himself that those small moments were not enough. That he needed, and deserved more. That at the very least, he deserved to be the only person sleeping with his partner in a supposedly monogamous relationship. As he stepped out of the door of Mystra’s place for what he fully intended to be the last time, he felt a breath leave him that he didn’t realize he’d been holding. While the door didn’t physically slam behind him (because Mystra was holding it open, still shouting at him), it did shut metaphorically. He found himself moving to his car, almost mechanically, throwing his things in the back, and sliding into the driver’s seat. As he backed out of the driveway, he spared a glance at Mystra and for the first time in the decade of knowing her, saw a look of shock flash across her face. In that instant, seeing her unsure of herself for the first time, he knew he’d made the right decision. And as he drove to Wyll’s, who had already offered Gale his guest bedroom, he let himself smile softly.
A little over a year later, Gale snapped back to himself, holding his washcloth to his face. He wasn’t going to dwell on the past. He was in a good spot. He had his own apartment now, less than a mile from campus so he could walk to class on days the weather cooperated. It had windows to let in the sunlight, built in shelving for all of his books, and even a guest bedroom. He had adopted a cat, a beautiful calico he’d named Tara who he’d taken an instant liking to upon seeing her at the shelter. She took a little longer to come around on him, but after several months she had decided he was worthy of her affections.
The only thing left to do was get rid of that horrible tattoo. He’d been talked into it by Mystra about three years into their relationship. She’d had a habit of taking on hobbies, going all in on them for a few months, and giving up to move onto the next one. One such hobby was tattooing. A friend of a friend who had once dabbled had told Mystra that her artistic talent was wasted on impermanent art forms and had offered to teach her how to use a tattoo gun. Of course Gale later learned she’d slept with him too. But at the time, Rugan was just an acquaintance turned friend who was teaching her a new skill. Once she’d practiced enough on fake skin, she’d turned her eye to Gale. It took her months to convince him, but eventually he lost the strength to keep telling her no. He had thought about getting a floral piece on his thigh. But Mystra was adamant that the hottest thing he could do was get one of her designs on his chest. And she’d once again plied him with sex, and how could he say no?
The result was a black circle in the middle of his chest just below his throat, with wispy flame like lines protruding up his neck on one side and some headed down towards his stomach on the other. He had no idea what it was meant to be. And worse, it wasn’t even well done. The lines were thin in some places, blown out in others. Some areas she’d done so lightly that the ink hadn’t been placed deep enough and had fallen out. Other areas were so deeply etched into his skin that scars had formed around the ink. He wondered if it was even salvageable with a coverup or if he was just out of luck. But it was time to stop wondering and find out.
Once he’d made the decision to do something about it, the first thing he’d done was start looking into tattoo shops in the area. As Waterdeep was a bustling metropolis, there were plenty of options. But the first thing every online forum said about getting a tattoo was researching artists to find one who did the style of art you were looking for. After a few weeks of digging, he’d found two shops with artists whose styles he really admired. One was The Crėche, and an artist called Lae’zel who specialized in black and gray floral designs with sharp lines. When he’d called the shop to inquire, her assistant Shadowheart had said Lae’zel was booked out for quite a while, but would be able to meet with him to discuss his design in three month’s time. While he was willing to wait for the right artist, the blaring music in the background and Shadowheart’s less than amicable tone had somewhat turned him off.
The other shop, Emerald Grove, was only a couple of streets over from his apartment and was owned by Halsin Silverbough, a towering bear of a man whom Gale had met at the animal shelter when he’d adopted Tara. Halsin was a gentle giant and had a deep respect for animals and nature. In turn, according to him, he’d never met an animal who hadn’t adored him. He used that gift to volunteer at the shelter. He did most of his work on intakes, helping to comfort and calm animals as they adapted to the shelter environment. According to the manager of the shelter, they had the highest successful adoption rate of any shelter in Waterdeep and the surrounding area, which was attributed almost solely to Halsin’s golden touch with the animals.
Halsin had opened Emerald Grove a decade ago and according to online reviews had a knack for hiring talented artists who specialized in nature themed tattoos, among other styles. Also noted was the calm, almost serene, and welcoming vibe of the shop itself. After many visits to the website, Gale had decided that Halsin himself and another artist, Saga, both had portfolios that matched the aesthetic that he was looking for. While both artists did most of their work via appointments, they encouraged potential clients to swing by the shop at any time. And Gale intended to do just that today.
After his morning bathroom routine was complete, Gale went out to the kitchen to find Tara already there, waiting somewhat impatiently for her breakfast. He hummed to himself as he prepared her meal. He’d come to find that she was a bit of a picky eater. She preferred dry food in the morning and canned food in the evening. The mornings were easier, as he could just scoop the kibble and throw it in a bowl. In the evening, however, he had to perform an elaborate routine of taking the can, pretending to microwave its contents on a plate, shake the unopened salt shaker over it and give it a good stir before she’d deign to eat it. It had taken a month of trial and error and her sticking up her nose at the plate before he’d gotten it down.
While Tara was happily enjoying her breakfast, Gale gathered his things. He had print outs of some styles and images he liked that he thought might work as cover ups that he stuffed into a notebook, and then into his tote along with a book in case he needed to wait, his cell phone, and his wallet. He'd worn jeans and a dark purple button up shirt so he could easily show his tattoo without needing to take off any clothing. He gave himself a once over in the hallway mirror to make sure he had thought of everything, grabbed his keys, told Tara he'd be back later and to enjoy her day, and headed out the door.
As he left the building and walked out into the streets of Waterdeep he reveled in the glorious weather. It was warm, sunny with nary a cloud in the sky, and a light breeze played through the messy bun of his hair. He walked the the few blocks to the Emerald Grove and as he opened the door, a bell jangled to announce his arrival. His eyes adjusted as he stepped in from the bright light of the sunny day. Blinking, he took in the shop around him. Just as he expected from what he knew of Halsin, the shop was decorated in natural hues of green, brown and creme. There were plants everywhere of all shapes and sizes. The space was filled with natural light and had an aura of warmth that made Gale feel he was being welcomed back, even though it was his first time here.
"Gale! Welcome to the Emerald Grove! To what do we owe the honor of your presence?", a booming voice called from further in the shop. As Halsin rounded the corner he held out a meaty paw which Gale took to shake. "Good to see you, Halsin. I was hoping to speak with you about a possible cover up of a regretful tattoo from my youth. Well, not as young as I wish I had been, considering how embarrassing it is now." Halsin, who still had not let go of Gale's hand, gave a short laugh. "I made many mistakes as a young man, and I fear too many more the older I get. Unfortunately, there's no actual cap on youthful indiscretions. They just get a little bit less youthful as time goes on. But I'm sure this tattoo you're hoping to cover up isn't all that bad. You're an intelligent man, my friend, and I daresay an overthinker. Let's take a look and see what we're working with. Come on back."
Gale followed Halsin to the floor of the shop, to his chair. As he sat, Gale undid the top two buttons of his shirt to let Halsin take a look at his tattoo. "May I take a closer look, Gale, and do you mind if I touch you?"
"Uh, sure, of course. Do what you need to do." Gale was pleasantly suprised to be asked to be touched. He'd been alone since Mystra, and hadn't had much physical contact with anyone, apart from dear old Tara. Part of it was because he wasn't ready for any kind of romatic relationship or sexual encounter but the larger reason was that he was still a little gun shy. While Mystra hadn't beaten him or physically abused him in the long term, the slap to the face and the vase thrown at his head had caused him to be wary of others in his phsyical space. He hated to admit it, because it made him think that Mystra might be right that he wasn't much of a man. Wyll had picked up on this new hestiation from Gale immediately during the six weeks he'd stayed in his guest bedroom before his apartment had become available. He hadn't said anything outright, but was careful to announce his presence when walking into a room where Gale was with loud footsteps or a hum. He didn't touch Gale without announcing his intention first, giving Gale time to decline or move, was even careful not to accidentally brush him as he walked by. Gale had been so moved by Wyll's care. Wyll had always been something of a knight in shining armor for everyone around him, but the fact that he was still so caring towards Gale even after all those years apart was touching.
As Halsin leaned in to look at his tattoo, Gale snapped back to the present. "This is a very…interesting piece," he mumbled. "You don't have to be careful about your words, Halsin. It's terrible, I'm aware." Gale was used to much less eloquent criticsms by now and didn't take any of them to heart. "My ex was what I think the industry calls a 'scratcher.' She chose both the location and the design. Now that I've been doing research in an effort to have it covered, I understand that despite the shaky lines and blowouts, I'm just lucky it didn't get infected and cause any permanent damage beyond a few scars from lines drawn too deep."
Halsin looked up at him, appraisginly. "I see you have done your research. I'm both impressed and aware I should not have expected any less from you. As much as I'd like to personally help you, I don't feel like I have enough experience in coverups over scarring. I don't want to do you the disservice of promising results I'm not sure I can deliver." Gale felt himself deflate a bit. He had been hoping that Halsin would be able to help him. A friendly and familar face to get him through what he was sure would be a painful time both physically and emotionally. "But," Halsin continued, "I think I have just the right artist for you." He turned in his stool and called into the shop, "Saga! If you have a moment, could you join us?"