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For Clarity, the past few days have been hell.
Not because of the looming threat of ceremorphosis. Not because of the goblins and gnolls on the party’s asses from the first few hours off the nautiloid ship. Not the reveal that everyone in camp has something deeply wrong with them on a fundamental level, “in a cult” being the least worrisome. Clarity can handle all that. No, it’s hell because Gale has been distancing himself from her.
He has every right to, of course. After what she did, why would he remain warm and amicable as ever? It’s entirely her fault and she knows she deserves this—but that doesn’t make her want to claw her own face off any less. With the monsters constantly on the group’s heels, it’s been nearly impossible to find time to explain herself and fix things. To know that she’s responsible for stripping him of his signature charm and humor is almost unbearable.
He’s still polite, of course. She’s not sure he’s capable of being anything else. But every time he casts his eyes away from hers, every time his smile wilts into a resigned, tight-lipped gloom at the sight of her, Clarity just wants to shovel dirt in her mouth and bury her head in the earth until nature takes its course.
***
It all started, as it usually does, because Clarity was an impulsive dumbass.
Things were finally going the way she wanted them to. That moment in the Weave felt inexplicably, marvelously intimate, like sweet nothings whispered in the embrace of a lover, and Clarity was but two seconds away from snapping and kissing him right then and there.
Luckily, she had the good sense to recognize that, through their mystic connection, Gale would most likely be able to see her thoughts projected like a painting in his mind. Luckier still, she remembered that she’d only known him for about a week and therefore any advances might be extremely untoward.
So naturally, she tried to project a different, less amorous image into his head. Something that wouldn’t scream desperate and/or creepy.
Her brain, in its panic-addled state, apparently decided that the best way to do that was violence. Not just any violence–no, it was the mental image of his head on a pike.
Needless to say, he didn’t take it well, and their interaction was swiftly cut short for the night.
Being an amnesiac, Clarity can’t confidently label that as her life’s stupidest moment, but it’s damn hard to imagine anything worse, especially since her previous life had no Gale to ruin things with.
***
At least one good thing came out of this adventure so far: Rescuing those tiefling refugees. Except for the incident where she knocked Alfira unconscious in the grove without understanding why, Clarity feels like a hero of sorts.
All night, their camp has been filled with drinks, laughter, and praises in her direction. They credit her with saving their lives. They offer the most lighthearted company she’s had in a good long while. It should be a night she should take full advantage of to relax for once.
If only her mind would stop straying to those betrayed brown eyes.
She distracts herself, or at least tries to. She gulps down some wine, but it seems her palate is more refined than she anticipated, because it tastes like sour potato juice and she can’t get drunk even after downing a bottle. She speaks to each and every tiefling to wring conversation out of them, then flits away when it becomes apparent that they’d rather talk amongst themselves instead. She feeds the owlbear, who seems overwhelmed by all the noise, and resists the urge to cuddle against Scratch like a scared child.
Then Lae’zel approaches her. All she wants is sex, no strings attached, and Clarity jumps at the opportunity. Why not, after all? If she can’t have the one person she’s actually interested in, well, there’s five other painfully attractive individuals she could lose herself in instead.
It doesn’t go quite like she thought it would. All it takes is a few kisses too gentle, a few touches too light, and Lae’zel pulls away.
“Enough,” she spits, though there doesn’t seem to be any real anger in her voice. “I will not take what cannot be given to me in full.”
Clarity suspects what the warrior means, but she’s been working so hard to distract herself all night that her brain refuses to cooperate with Common speech. “What?”
Lae’zel grunts in frustration and jabs Clarity on the sternum with a blunt nail. “You. You do not want me. You insult me by believing I will be fooled by this feeble display.”
“I…” Clarity blinks, unable to stop thinking of soft purple lights and silver streaks in brown hair. “I’m not trying to fool you. I want this.”
Lae’zel scoffs out her signature chk. “You cannot even convince yourself, istik. If I am the only one to receive pleasure from this interaction, I’d be better off with my own hand. This is because I know what I want.”
Clarity nearly laughs, but she feels too much like a kid with their hand in the cookie jar to be truly amused. “Are you saying you want to stop?”
Lae’zel’s eyes narrow harshly. “No. I will continue with a different, more willing partner. One who doesn’t yearn for another.”
Clarity’s tail whips around in agitation as her cheeks burn. She hadn’t exactly tried to hide her affection, but when fucking Lae’zel, the woman who didn’t notice that one of Clarity’s black-and-blue eyes had been replaced by a white prosthetic, notices her feelings for Gale, then there’s reason to be embarrassed.
“Sorry, Lae’zel,” she mutters, scratching at the inside of her elbow. “I didn’t mean to waste your time.”
Lae’zel hmphs and crosses her wiry arms. “You will stop this…this longing at once. You will reveal your true intentions to the wizard, and if they are not returned, then you will walk away knowing you didn’t give up before you even tried.”
Clarity can only stare. Is…is Lae’zel giving her encouragement? How much potato water did she drink?
“I will,” she stammers out before she can recognize what she’s agreeing to. “Sorry again for…all this.”
Lae’zel at least seems mollified with Clarity’s agreement. “Less empty apologies, more action. This is no detriment to me—I intend to speak with Wyll, myself.”
“Huh.” Clarity blinks again, staring. “Are you just into horns, or…?”
“Go.” Lae’zel pushes her back—ridiculously strong for someone so much shorter—and then marches past her without another word.
Clarity swallows as her olive-yellow figure disappears into the crowd. She knows Lae’zel is right. It’s time to find Gale.
***
When she finally makes her way across the tiny creek, she spots the wizard in question flipping idly through one of the books he collected along their journey. He doesn’t seem to be too interested in it, his fingers fiddling with the paper like the texture is more engaging than its contents. The firelight softens his already-gentle features, bathing him in a golden-orange glow beside the cool blue of the night. He’s captivating.
Clarity’s heart thumps violently, urging her to turn tail and run, but if she does, she’ll never have a chance to fix things between them. He’ll go on thinking she hates him forever. That in itself is enough for her to steel her nerves and move carefully over to him.
He glances up as she approaches, and his brows immediately pull together, closing off his expression like curtains drawn. Clarity’s heart sinks. “Yes?”
“Hi.” Off to a great start already. “I need to talk to you.”
“I see.” Gale closes his book with a curt thump, driving his gaze into her with an aching intensity. “Go on, then.”
Clarity realizes she’s holding her breath, but doesn’t bother exhaling. “About what you saw—and please let me finish before you say anything.”
He raises an eyebrow, almost as if to say ‘this should be good.’ He doesn’t speak, and Clarity almost regrets asking him not to.
“I didn’t—I don’t actually want to hurt you.” Gods, she wants to catapult herself to the bottom of the ocean. The back of her neck tingles with a thousand tiny pinpricks, her blood boiling beneath her skin. “What you saw was an accident, a mistake, and I-I didn’t mean it. I just panicked and it was the first thing that popped into my head.”
His eyes narrow, alerting Clarity to the fact that her words are less than reassuring.
“No, listen,” she pleads, digging her nails into her palms. The dull pain grounds her. “I panicked because…fuck.” His eyes on her don’t serve to calm her nerves, piercing and deep and beautiful. She drops her gaze to the grass. “I like you and I didn’t want you to see that, so I tried to mislead you into thinking otherwise.”
Well. She said it. Isn’t there supposed to be a weight off her shoulders? A relief in her chest? This is bullshit—all she feels is crushing anxiety. The silence between them and the way she hides her eyes only increase it.
Gale interrupts the quiet with a surprised, uncertain laugh. “Tried to mislead me?”
Yeah, she deserves that. She buries her face into her hands, resisting the urge to claw her forehead apart. “I’m sorry, seriously. I made you feel horrible just to protect a poorly kept secret. I don’t blame you for being mad at me.”
“No, it’s—it’s alright,” he says, sounding thrown. “I’m just…coming to terms with this.”
There’s more silence, prompting her to peek up above her fingers. He has her fixed with a puzzled look and his head tilted, as if trying to figure her out. “Let me make sure I have this all sorted out: You like me, so you decided the best course of action was to make me believe you despise me?”
“Again, I panicked,” she mumbles, feeling rather stupid again. “I like you a lot—I think you’re great.”
He exhales in disbelief, but something akin to hope appears in his eyes. “You are fascinating, you know that?”
She pulls a face to disguise the thump-thump-thumping of her heart against her ribs. Are things about to be okay? “That’s a nice way of saying I’m a wreck, but I’ll take it.”
He exhales through his nose in a quick laugh. Clarity’s hopes soar at the sight. “Well, no one here is entirely sound of judgement, are we? You all kept me around despite the threat I pose.” He gestures vaguely to his chest, the lavender veins creeping up from underneath his collar, and Clarity, to her credit, is only briefly distracted by the sight. How far down do those Weave-dyed lines travel, anyway…?
“I don’t think that’s comparable to what we’re talking about, though,” she says, interrupting her own train of thought. “Imagining your decapitated head and keeping you around despite the bomb in your chest are pretty different scenarios.”
“But both were foolish decisions,” he points out, a wry smile tugging at his lips.
She huffs. “Hey, I’ll only let you make fun of me for one of those things. I’m never going to regret letting you stay.”
“I know.” His smirk softens out, eyes shimmering, and if Clarity’s mind were just an inch more fractured, she’d pull her heart out and place it in his hands. “And I thank you again for choosing me.”
She can’t respond to that in a way that would sound rational, so she merely shrugs and glances down, toying with the golden charms tied to her braids.
“Clarity?”
She looks up again, heart pounding. His eyes are strangely scrutinizing, like he’s seeing her in a whole new light now that he knows of her feelings.
“Gale?”
His smile shifts again, this time into something familiar and soft, almost amused. “I wouldn’t have minded seeing your true intentions then,” he says. “They wouldn’t have been…unwelcome.”
She stares.
Is he serious?
“It’s been a while since I was with anyone, erm, in that way,” he continues, and his eyes drift away in an odd mixture of melancholy and embarrassment. “Not since Mystra…”
“Yeah,” she mumbles, eyes down. The Mother of Magic’s name picks at her jealous nature like a thousand tiny needles. She imagines the goddess’ mutilated corpse and relaxes a fraction.
“Regardless,” Gale says quickly, “this is unexpected, certainly, but I’m not going to turn you down.” He concludes with an awkward little smile, searching for her reaction.
Oh.
Well!
This is the part where she’s supposed to say something, isn’t it?
Gale’s smile shifts from awkward to wobbling in amusement at her flabbergasted expression. No doubt she must look ridiculous. “Do you need a moment?”
“No.” It comes out as a high squeak, and Gale coughs politely into his fist, badly disguising his laughter. “Maybe.”
“That's probably for the best,” he says, tapping his fingers against the cover of his book. She tries not to stare at his hands. “Any undue excitement may, well…tip the orb over the edge, so to speak.”
Gods have mercy.
“For the best, yeah," she echoes, her cheeks burning and heart racing. “I’ll…see you tomorrow?”
It's not that she's eager to get away from him, but she needs to get out of here before she combusts.
Gale seems to recognize this, because he nods with a sweet, knowing smile. “Of course. Have a good night, Clarity.”
“Mhm.” In a manner most undignified, she turns and almost bowls into Halsin in her efforts to run away, quietly squealing to herself the whole way down. Gale laughs behind her, but she can't bring herself to stay quiet.
She owes Lae'zel big time.