#I was gonna have Mikage be Lathander but then I realized that Lathandar hates the undead (rip Astarion)

[marsafter-dark]

At least 10 of you liked my idea, and that’s enough for me! I present to you: Gale becomes a god (no, not like that)

Gale isn’t quite sure how he got here- homeless, strung-out, alone. Sitting on a bench in the middle of God-Knows-Where with nothing but a bag of holding and a pouch full of gold to his name. And Tara, of course. At least he had her.

He sighs, scratching under her chin as he gazes out into the distance.

“I think I’ve really done it this time, old friend.” She meows back at him. He imagines if Tressyms could still talk she would probably say something like, “Chin up, Mr. Dekarios, no use just sitting around.” She is indeed wise behind her years. Nonetheless, he thinks he would rather wither away here than attempt to go back to that old house, back to that white picket fence and those perfectly trimmed bushes— and her. He doesn’t know which would be more heartbreaking, facing her disappoint or never seeing her again.

The sound of a squeal in the distance draws him from his musings. Whoever it is sounds as pitiful as he feels.

“Rat! Somebody, please, there’s a rat!”

The look of hunger in Tara’s eyes tells Gale what he’s about to do next is probably a bad idea, but apparently, those are his specialty as of late. He sighs once more as he lets Tara chase after the damned thing. He knows she’ll be fine, she always is— smartest creature he’s ever met. Still, though, he wanders after her. You can never be too safe, he’s found.

He can feel his lips twitch up into a slight smile as she lowers onto her haunches and pounces— and misses terribly. At least the rat has moved, though. Now then, where had that voice come from?

He stops. Looks around.

Ah. There is a tiefling perched up a tree.

“Hello there,” he calls up to them, “Are you alright?”

He watches as the tiefling straightens their collar and makes a long-legged leap onto the ground. It is much more graceful than he would expect from a person who was quivering in the face of a rat not but 30 seconds ago. They turn and smile at him, rubbing a hand at the back of their neck.

“My apologies, I’m not very good with rodents. To think I’d be cornered by one so quickly after coming back,” they say with a little laugh. Their voice is soft, deep, and melodic. Soothing. He can feel the tension in his shoulders lessen.

“Nothing to apologize for, my friend. We all have our fears. I dare say rodents are among the more logical of them.”

They laugh again. It’s a rather pleasant sound.

“So then, what brings you to our little corner of Faerun?” Gale asks.

“Well, I’ve been gone a rather long time from my home. I thought it might be about time for me to return.”

Ah, home. He wishes he still had one of those.

“You don’t have a place to stay?”

Apparently, his didn’t think as quietly as he thought. He grimaces, face feeling hot.

“Ha, no. I’m afraid not. It’s been a rather unfortunate day.”

“I suppose it would have to be, to lose one’s home ,” they say.

“Yes, it would.”

Then, there is silence for a while. Gale realizes he’s done his convenient little trick of finding the answer least conducive to continuing a conversation and running with it. What should he say next? Was there anything else to say? How books and television always made this seem so easy, he’ll never know.

“Do you need one?” The tiefling says suddenly.

“Pardon?”

“A home.”

Gale laughs.

“Are you offering?” He says this as a joke. It seems the right time to make one.

“Yes, I suppose I am.”

Oh.

What?

He feels he’s missed something vital. Surely not. Surely they’ve not just offered their home up to a stranger?

“You see,” they begin, “I’ve been thinking. I can’t leave my home empty forever. But I’m afraid that if I try to return now, decades after leaving, Astarion might attack me as soon as I open the door.”

Who is Astarion? Their lover, perhaps? He can’t think of anyone else who would feel so mad at being abandoned that they would be compelled to attack you should you open the door. It isn’t as though he has many cases to draw from, though, to be fair.

“If you lived there, I think I’d feel relieved of my burden.”

What burden?

“Besides, it suits you better, anyway.” As they say this, they move startlingly close to him. Then, perhaps most bizzarely of all, they kiss him. Right on the forehead. Gentle, like his mother used to do after his nightmares. He feels alight with an indescribable warmth, a kindness beyond the human capacity to explain. Like the first time he summoned Tara as a child, when he lonely little life wasn’t so lonely anymore. He wonders, idly, what strange subset of the Weave this might be.

They hand him a note.

“Go to the place written there. Tell them Tavernus sent you— that you are the new master of the house. They’ll be sure to welcome you.”

Will they?

“Now, wait just a minute—!” His mouth finally says.

“This is goodbye, for now. I’m sure we’ll meet again in time, Gale.” Then, they are gone. Tara has returned to his side by now, the two of them watching together as the strange tiefling walks off into the distance.

“I never told them my name.” He hums— he’s found a mystery. What a curious sequence of events. Strangely enough, he feels lighter than he has in weeks.

“It seems, Tara, as though I’ve found us a home.” She meows back at him.

“Well then, Mr. Dekarios, Lead on.”

That’s odd. He can almost swear he just heard her voice.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

They make it to the place marked on the map with perhaps an hour until sundown.

It’s a shine of some sort, clearly abandoned. The roof is caving in and he can see cobwebs growing on the windowsills. Flowers and moss have begun to climb up the front walls. Is it wrong that he had been hoping for— and there was surely a less rude way to phrase this, but his energy is rather spent— someplace nicer?

Still, though, a home is a home. Even if that home is a dilapidated shrine. He is just thankful to be keeping off the streets for the night. Autumns in Waterdeep and its surrounding areas can be rather chilly.

He’s just about to push open the doors when he hears creaking from inside. Then, a dagger is flying out at him, barely missing his fleshy innards.

Things begin to move rather quickly from there.

“Tavernus, darling,” a lilting voice calls. “Don’t you think twenty-seven years is a rather long time to be away?”

Footsteps are getting closer to him, now. Gale readies a cantrip in his palm— fireball.

“I don’t suppose you could have, oh I don’t know, written me? Even once?”

If this does turn out to be Astarion, then Gale is almost positive that his scorned lover theory is correct.

“It’s almost like you’re avoiding me. But that couldn’t be right, could it, darling?”

Goodness, he didn’t think pet names could be said with so much vitriol. He moves a few paces back. Just in case, of course.

As he does so, whoever it is finally steps into the fading light of day.

“You had better hope you have an outstanding explanation prepared. That is, if you want that pretty head of yours to stay attached to your shoulders.”

It’s an elf. A rather extraordinary one, at that. He’s never seen anything quite like it— which would make sense. Elves are not known to be the most sociable of creatures.

He has sharp red eyes and white hair that reminds Gale of the moon on a starless night. Tight leather pants adorn long legs and a frilly poet’s shirt sits loose across his chest. Despite being threatened within an inch of his life, Gale can’t help but think they are rather beautiful.

He scowls at him.

“You aren’t Tavernus.”

“Ah— Um— No?” Perhaps unwisely, he lets the fireball in his palm fade away.

“Wonderful. Then, shoo.” He flaps their hand at him as though waving off a gnat. Well, that seems rather rude, all things considered.

“They did send me here, though.” Astarion proceeds to raise one perfectly styled eyebrow at him.

“Did they.”

“I’m afraid so.” Gale then gives what he hopes is his best attempt at an inviting grin. When he practices it in the mirror, he usually looks half-crazed. “You wouldn’t happen to know who I’m to deliver a message towards, would you?”

Astarion looks up from his task of picking at his nails with a dagger.

“That would depend, darling, on what exactly the message is.”

“They said to inform the household that, apparently, they’ve declared me the new master.”

This does get Astarion to pause. He looks Gale up and down. Tilts his head a little to the side, then tilts it back. Then, he bursts out laughing. By the time he calms down, he is wiping genuine tears from his eyes.

“You?” He says. He’s got the most condescending smirk on his face. “Absolutely not.”

who wants to hear about my Bloodweave Kamisama Kiss AU which could only exist in the twisted mind of someone who grew up in the grand era of 2000s anime?