#but tbh tav could be Anything in this it doesn't matter much

[gales-tits]

Title: Chronic Wordcount: 3096 Characters: Tav (she/her half elf ranger), Gale Dekarios Synopsis: Gale is still struggling to find his feet again after being yanked into the adventure. The orb doesn't make it easy. Tav makes him face some truths... A soft and fairly warm addressing of Gale having chronic exhaustion and him being hard himself tempered with some Tav gentleness and a bit of Gale being taken care of for once.

There was something unnerving familiar about this.

Gale was curled under his blankets. The noise of everyone getting ready around him drifting in and out of his ears, a floating backdrop to the doze. Dreams intermingling unpleasantly with reality. The ache in his back from resting on the ground, even with his thick bedroll, enemies they had faced, the walls of his tower. Exhaustion wasn’t uncommon for him, admittedly. Ever since he’d been dragged from his home on this adventure, every so often, the time spent in convalescence caught up to him, downed him for a day, sometimes two. The guilt was always the same, though, a metal band around his chest, tightening so that it felt hard to breathe.

He’d been doing so well, too, these last few days. Managed to go with the party, to fight. Yesterday, thankfully right at the end of a particularly tricky battle, ribs aching from a nasty blow, he had cast perhaps more powerfully than he should have. Forgetting in it all the damage that so marred him now, arms swinging, drawing up a wave of fire that reduced their enemies to naught but ash and sent acid burning down his rotting limb. At the back of the group, it seemed nobody had noticed how he had nearly buckled, arms drawing in close to his chest.

After that, they had made the decision to go back to camp, and whilst he’d said nothing about it, he was immensely grateful. Despite retiring not long after dinner, amongst the sore but companionable chatter, now his leaden limbs refused to move properly. The dawn light was illuminating the side of his tent that he was facing, gold diffused along the length of the pale fabric. It was deeply beautiful, he mused, before his eyes slithered shut again and he drifted back into the void.

It must have been snowing, even though he wasn’t all that cold. It laid over him, a snow coat, thick and heavy and crunchy; his chest ached, unable to even lift a limb. It must have frozen his eyelids shut, because it was impossible to even part them. If he wasn’t so tired, the limpness might have frightened him more, but as it was, it didn’t feel like it mattered.

Back in his tower, then. Recently having realised the severity of his foolishness; in between arranging the spells needed to set up a protective barrier, with his ability so vastly limited by the aching hunger in his chest, the throbbing that ran through his arm where that chunk of magic had burrowed it’s way into his terrified flesh; carving, ripping, no trace of gentleness as it settled oh so near his heart, tendrils whipping their way deeper through him, eye screaming as the marking grasped ahold of it too… he had taken to his bed, to recover. The weight of his failure sunk over him, metal compressing him down. If it wasn’t for Tara, her soft and heavy weight a constant companion, he might have rotted away in that bed. Far beyond the current loss of his bulk, he would have become… nothing. Her endless determination had forced him up, made him eat and suffer the most basic acts of self care, although he always crawled back to the sweet embrace of it’s lush fabrics.

It had gone on like this for… months. Patches of blank time broken up by desperate searching for an answer. Books and artefacts and always pain, pain, pain. Tara had insisted it was merely the effect of the orb draining him, but Gale knew more. Even as he looked at the blackness that had encased his fingertips, radiating rings in the centre of his palm, ripples that shimmered, half scar tissue and half necrosis. This was his own mind, his enemy. The longer Mystra ignored him, the more he was reminded of what he’d always known. He was a failure. He would never, ever be good enough. And now he would die of his folly.

“Gale?” an uncertain voice echoed through the door of his tent. Eyes snapped open; she was, of course, behind him, as he was laying facing away. No snow. Of course not, inside his damn tent – it was all in his mind, although the crispy weight of it still made him struggle to try to move. Should he – should he be responding? By the time his mind had dragged itself to the thought that he should probably be speaking – “Are you alright? Everybody’s getting ready to go. You don’t have to come today if you don’t want to.” Tav. Her voice soft, nervous, sweet. His heart had been more drawn to her by the day. The confident leadership, the quiet warmth, the immense skill, and the sheer humanity of her. Perhaps it was all his isolation, but despite his best attempts to not allow himself to feel such things, Gale was being inexorably drawn. Some part of him thought it was only because he was being treated… kindly. Gods only knew.

Oh, fuck, he was meant to be replying -

“Gale?” a little louder, a little stronger now. Worry. Damnit, the last thing he wanted was to make Tav worry. “I’m fine.” he tried to answer, but it came out little more than a raspy croak, taking far too much of his energy just to talk. Louder, come on, fool, you’re a wizard, “Just a little – tired.” okay, that one was audible. Good. Still shaky and warbly, but at least… audible. “Do you want to stay behind today?” she asked, still outside the doorway, giving him his privacy. His heart skipped. He didn’t want to stay behind, he needed to be useful, to help. He was a powerful wizard, he could do this. “No, no, just ah – give me – give me a little time?” he called back, trying to shift his hips up so he could brace on his good elbow and sit up. It felt like sliding a great rock, forcing it over the ground, trying not to pant as he managed to start to adjust his position. “I’ll be with you as soon as I’m able, I promise you.”

There was a long enough pause that he wondered if Tav had left. Then - “Alright, if you’re sure.” her voice drifted in; low, warm, cautious. “You don’t have to force it, Gale. That battle yesterday was… hard. I’ll… I’ll come check back on you in a little bit?” “Yes, yes, thank you greatly,” he chose to ignore the first comment, trying to keep himself from panting to the point where she could hear it. “Shan’t be long!”

He stayed like that until he heard footsteps moving away, finally getting his body so that he was sitting up. Braced on his good arm, knees folded, his head hung, strands of greasy hair drifting around him, loose from their upwards style. How he missed access to regular hot water… he had made a promise, though. He had to uphold it. Looking down at his bandaged arm, he realised with a jolt that it was unravelling. Nobody had seen it – although from the glances, he had a feeling that Astarion knew what was going on underneath. With great effort, he moved until he was sitting cross-legged, feeling the most stable that way. Shoulders hunched as he tried to start re-wrapping them, hiding the black and blistered flesh, but even his good hand was struggling to be responsive today. Movements that were so jerky they undid the previous action. Thank Gods his sensation in that arm was so minimal, or the tugs of fabric against the flesh would have been agony.

Those traitorous, trembling fingers; the grip failed, and the bandages bounced out of his hold. They hit the ground, a graceful arc as they leapt away, once, twice hitting the ground, finally coming to a stop in the entranceway to his tent. The flaps were gently twitched apart, allowing a triangle of the outside light to illuminate the ground. As he braced to turn around and reach for the damnable thing, a shadow blocked it out – eyes jerked upwards, and there was Tav, pushing the fabric aside, but eyes fixed downwards on the roll of now-stained material. Brows furrowed, before she reached down – oh so gingerly picking it up, then her eyes coming up again to settle on Gale. Immediately, the confusion shifted to concern, not quick enough to school her expressions. Brows drawn, mouth slightly open, eyes softening considerably. He could see it all playing out; the bandages, the bared arm with it’s necrosed flesh, the concern would shift to horror and disgust and anger -

“Gale.” her voice was so soft, so gentle, just like her, and now she was kneeling in front of him, uncaring of whatever might be getting on her trousers. “Let me see?” He had done his best to keep the worsening malady from the others’ sight, admittedly. Yes, the skin was tender, undeniably. But more than anything, it usually felt numb; the agonies of magic would burn from the inside out, yet knocking the limb into branches or walls gave him nearly nothing in response. The only thing that truly made it throb was the touch of hands, contact against the blistered and blackened skin a whole new kind of agony. It had been an awful thing to discover, that even his own body was rejecting itself… but Tav, oh, Gods above, he hadn’t wanted her to see. Of any of them, she would be the worst… bar perhaps Lae’zel, who might see it as a sign of ceremorphosis and decide it a great choice to take his head from it’s comfortable place on his shoulders.

She swept her hair from her face in a surprisingly swift motion, wrapping it up, tying a band around it to keep it from her face. Tav had always been practical – maybe that was how she had fallen so quickly into the role of their de facto leader. Keeping everyone from ripping each other’s heads off, corralling them into something light a fighting force, and pushing them all ever onwards towards Baldur’s Gate. He… well, the affections that he’d been feeling were hard to ignore. Even as his mind wandered back towards Mystra again and again, that particular abandonment was starting to feel somewhat dulled. His eyes would linger on Tav as he worked the cookpot, even if she were merely standing and chatting, or polishing and cleaning her armor, or… his eyes lingered on a loose hair that curled around a gently pointed ear, a broad flatness to it that gave away the human side of her heritage.

Drawing a knife from her belt, Tav cut the muddied section of bandage away, sitting in front of him cross-legged. Eyes lingered, trailing down; the sweat that was dripping down his neck from the effort of being upright, the tangled strands that settled around his shoulders, then back to his arm. It hadn’t been so bad at first, of course. The necrosis had started at the spot in his palm that the orb had driven it’s way in – tearing, burning, agonisingly ripping it’s way towards his heart. It was hard to forget it, even if it had left no mark. Yet still it had. The blackness crept it’s way out. When he’d been taken, it covered from fingers to nearly his wrists. But since the tadpole, it had worsened dramatically. The creep seemed to have ratcheted up, alongside the hunger of it – it covered all the way up to his elbow, near enough now. His fingers ached with a constant coldness, making it hard to grip. The black marks were streaked with purple and rotten hints of green. Beyond the pain, the increasing lack of sensation and ability to hold even his textured staff was… frustrating. Limiting.

“How long have you been keeping this bandaged?” Tav asked, voice so soft and gentle. It was funny; if he hadn’t known she wasn’t, he could’ve sworn that she was a cleric, the perfect bedside manner. “Ah -” the noise came out a sharp hiss, instinctively jerking away. She immediately released the touch from his flesh. All she had done was gingerly touch his arm, trying to brace the bandages, but it was like white fire. “Forgive me -” “It’s tender?” she asked, brows drawn in, “I’ll be careful. More careful. Hold nice and still.” looking down again, she began to wind the bandages, taking extreme care that only the fabric touched his skin. He swallowed roughly. “I – when we were first taken,” he murmured, “I realised just how foul the damage looked. I – the bandages do little to heal it, unfortunately. It is – it is more for the comfort of those around us, not to see the state of it.” he allowed a short, self indulgent chuckle. He doubted any of the others would enjoy seeing the evidence of his folly on such display. Let alone not giving anyone else an extra target to see, and, well…

“This is the orb.” Tav said, with such tenderness that his heart skipped a beat. He was so very tired; it weighed on his shoulders, threatening to drag him back down to the ground. To curl into his bedroll… oh, it sounded like it would be bliss… “Right?” “Oh. Yes. Yes, it’s… it’s where I, uh. Made contact, as such.” he admitted, softly. “Whilst it still does it’s best to spread itself from here,” he raised his good hand, tapping two fingers gently against the markings in his chest. He was sure the little electrical flicker that raced through it, following veins into his body where they weren’t visible, were entirely psychosomatic. “It has left a trail of destruction in his wake, alas. My own cost to pay, but…” he trailed off, swallowing hard again. There was that guilt, that band in his chest.

He wanted to sleep.

“Corrupting influence. Yes. Don’t worry, Gale. I understand.” she was working oh so deftly, rapid and clean movements, binding his arm, tucking each corner away, making sure there was nothing to get caught. She reached his palm now; he flexed out his fingers with a grimace, faint cracks appearing in the skin, but Tav said nothing about that as she wound each around the digits. “I’m not surprised that it does such things to your body. You are containing an immensely powerful force.” dark eyes flickered up, lingering on his own, and oh. Oh. It was hard to ignore how his heart skipped. Smart, kind, so gentle and yet – she looked at him. Saw him. Truly, utterly saw him. Perhaps he was pathetic right now, all lank hair and exhaustion, but – for the first time in oh so long – there was a breath where he was free of shame. Mystra was ashamed of him, his family, Gods, everyone he had let down in all this time, and yet Tav looked at him like there was something worth saving.

She finished tucking the bandages, carefully pressing them into place, firm enough he doubted they were going to unravel easily, but with enough flex he could move his limited wrist. Tav sat back, and smiled, eyes warm.

“You know, it’s okay to take a rest.” she said, sitting back, resting her elbows on her legs. “What?” the words caught him by surprise, freezing the breath in his throat. “What do you -” “You pushed yourself too hard, yesterday. I saw it, you know. All that power…” she reached out, and took his good hand, running her soft skin over his. “You know, I think about it. How you were before, y’know? Before all this. Before I met you. I keep imagining this…” she chuckled, and his heart leapt, and he couldn’t explain that either, only he was smiling. “This bright young wizard. Incredibly powerful. Casting all these immense spells without even thinking about it. Swaggering. Mystra’s chosen. Cocky, even. And I keep thinking… I don’t think I would have liked him.”

Oh. Oh, that’s… his heart tightens again, that little leap turning into a rough and tumble sinking towards his stomach. “Well, I, uh… that wouldn’t be an unfair assessment.” he said, with a grimace. Cocky upstart, yes, that was him, without a question – so convinced that he knew everything, that he was going to do the impossible and return that chunk of magic back to Mystra. He would prove himself worthy of being the greatest wizard known to Waterdeep, if not all of Fae’run. “Rather, I was, yes, very impressive. Hardly so now, I’m afraid. One hell of a fall from grace.” “Do you really think that, Gale?” Tav said, a blunt edge. He blinked; mouth opened and then closed again. “Because I think that’s bullshit. Maybe that’s how you see it. I like you. As you are, now. Okay, yes, you fucked it up a bit. Pushed too hard. Made a mistake.” she lifted the hand that wasn’t holding his, and pressed it against his chest, over the orb. She was soft, and warm; he was sure he could feel her pulse through the touch. Despite his expected discomfort at having someone so close to that weapon inside him… the fear didn’t rise.

“I like you when you’re human, Gale.” it shifted from the orb to his cheek, tucking a loose hair behind his ear. “You need to rest. Okay? Take your time. You don’t need to make dinner, either.” she hesitated, he could see it, feel that slight tightening of her hand. “Take a moment to be human.” she shifted away, and despite himself, he leant towards her, the warmth that was dancing away from him as she disentangled. “We’ll get on the road again when we’re all ready.” there it was again, he was sure, hesitating, she was hesitating, and he opened his mouth, not sure what would come out but - Soft, gentle lips rested on his forehead. For just a breath. Just a moment. He hung onto it with every part of memory that he had, then she was drawing back, leaving him with the ghost of a touch that seemed scorched into his skin. “I’ll see you later, Gale of Waterdeep.” and she laughed. Just like Tav. No cruelty, no mocking, but just a gentle teasing. As the curtain to his tent fell back into place in her wake, he looked at the perfect bandages on his arm, and as he curled back into his bedroll, found his mind wandering to rather more human thoughts than his usual Mystra mourning.