#if mystra hadn't wanted gale to blow up

[wildskissed]

I feel for Gale a bit where Eve is concerned because this little sorceress made of weave is so enamored by his magic and his prowess over the elements that of course he assumes she would be all in with this whole Karsus Crown quest...but her own thirst for power over her own magic aside, she craves the tangible, and the freedom that not being Gods allows them, so while she's all for his grand displays of magic, he's gotta feel a little yo-yo'd every time she pulls the squirt bottle out when he mentions getting the crown.

[littlestarlulls]

Gale of Waterdeep x Reader (Tav) Pt.2

Part two of this short drabble, please check it out! Again, some small spoilers to the Gale story route in BG3 (mountain pass).

Tav kicks small pebbles as they sit on the monastery roof. The sunrise rises slowly through the morning mist of the mountains and a cold breeze slowly passes through them, enveloping in warmth as the upcoming rays join too. They hadn't found the famed crèche that Lae'zel mentioned, but they were close. They could feel it.

~~~

Apart from the grandeur associated with partaking in the quest of freeing everyone from that damn parasitic worm, the last few days between you and Gale have been awkward, to say the least. Everyone could tell something happened that night, and aside from Karlach trying to tell funny stories and Astarion's quips, you mainly stayed off by yourself, lost in thought.

You haven't spoken a word to Gale. Part of it because you felt absolutely dreadful about your parting words, and another part felt still angry about being compared to his godly ex.

He hit a nerve, and he knew it.

It hurt being compared to someone you could never reach in both terms of power and his devotion. In truth, you didn't want much of the latter, but more wished that he saw you the same way that you saw him: the slightly lame but charismatic nerd that you came to slowly like over the last few weeks. Being compared to her brought up something within you. It was only a reminder that - bomb or not - his heart belonged to the weave incarnation in every single way, even in love. Even if that love came to tell him to end himself in such a cruel manner.

You wince recalling the conversation, the way his face twisted, hurt as you walked away wishing him well in his mission.

You did not mean to say those words. In truth, you were still firm on the belief that there must be something you guys could do about it.

There must be a way to avoid it. The party has already beaten up a good amount of enemies, so what can a dumb tentacle cult do?

But alas, Gale remained frigid in his stance. It drove you crazy to see him drop everything, even his life, at her mention. It was as if Gale himself didn't matter, that he was just but a useful pawn to her game. One that would willingly give himself up for the other chess pieces.

And it killed you.

A deep sigh escapes your mouth as you feel the wind pass over you. Were you on better terms with him, you both would have enjoyed this peaceful moment.

You missed it. You missed him.

~~~

Meanwhile, the wizard in question laid back in his tent's bedroll. He felt the morning sun as it peeked through the closed tent flaps straight into his vision. He did not mind it, however, as he was currently too busy considering the effects of invoking duplicity and having it slap across his face.

Maybe then it would feel better than the indifference in your eyes every time you glanced in his direction.

How could he have compared you to Mystra Herself?

He screams internally at himself.

It was unfair, to put them up against an overpotent goddess...

His thoughts did not focus on the essence of Mystra's divinity itself, however. Hell, in his eyes, you shone brighter than her. You were beautiful, absolutely enchanting. He would often find himself completely dumbfounded trying to find sufficient words to describe your brilliance.

Through the long journey, he came to fall in love with your essence, your small quirks. He liked to watch as you picked up every book you came to find only to read it later at camp, your extensive lust for exploration, the times when you secretly performed acts of kindness when you thought no one was not looking. He wanted to see more of it, wished to know you more. After a long time of solitude and isolation, he found himself craving to learn everything about you, to see the way you looked at him sometimes, and to hold you the same way you both did when sharing that moment in the weave.

But he had to go and - for lack of a better word - blow it all up.

He snorts over his own thoughts.

Of course, you were mad at him. It made sense. Your words had hurt him as much, but he was the one to first cast the spell. He didn't mean to say you were nothing for him. Mystra, the weave itself, has been all he has known his whole life. Ever since he was a child, he had revolved around the verse of magic, and when given this mission, he could not help but immediately accept it. Why, wasn't it his life's calling to devote himself to the weave?

He closed his eyes. Letting his mind wander around his memories of you, of your features.

That all came to change when you came into his life. You, who saw him as Gale Dekarios, not as the grand wizard that everyone expected him to be.

He had once yearned for divinity, for power just to be able to stand next to Her side...

But with you, he did not need to.

Just to sit next to you when having a meal at camp, laughing as you both watch Scratch playfully pull on Withers' clothes. The creases in your eyes as you smiled and the merry sound of your voice filled something in him, and the way you would treat him just as anyone else without any judgment or disdain had him completely whipped.

That's what made him worried. How could something so simple be so perfect at the same time? How do even small accidental touches of his hand with yours have him sparkle with electricity more than he ever was with the spells of the scrolls he poured over?

Gale sights to himself.

So yes, you are not Mystra. But just as you didn't see him for his power, he saw you for who you were. In his eyes, you were so much more than her, and that's what he came to realize as soon as those words came out of his mouth that day. Unfortunately, they left an aftertaste of the wrong meaning.

...

Maybe he should go with the slapping idea. Or maybe better, let him punch himself in the gut the way you could have done when you both shared that moment in the weave.

He chuckled bitterly.

It's only been a few days, but he missed it. He missed you.

~~~

-To be Continued-

Thought I might let this simmer for a bit as I like it quite a lot, haha. Your tags and comments have seriously made my week and I'm glad everyone likes this as much as I :> I'm not really a writer but I've got hyped up and wanna think of the last part throughoutly. Anyways, I hope you guys liked this one!

<Part 1 ~ Part 3>

[galesdekariios]

Betrayal (Gale x Wynmoira)

Hello lovelies! I wrote a little thing for my babes, Wynmoira and Gale. It's a little angsty but I couldn't help but have a little inspo during my playthrough to write. More will definitely come from them, so be on the lookout!

Part [1] (you are here). Part [2].

can find it on my ao3 here

The branches crunched beneath Wynmoira's feet. Her body ached all over; she was sticky, covered in a thick layer of blood, guts, and goo. A few strands of hair stuck firmly against her moist cheeks. Gods, was she desperately in need of a bath. She couldn't wait to be free of her ruined clothing, to submerge herself entirely in the warm waters by camp. A faint smile crept on her lips at the thought alone.

Wynmoira, Shadowheart, Astarion, and Gale were returning from their battle against Auntie Ethel. The battle was a rough one; Wynmoira was distracted the entire time. Her mind kept going elsewhere, causing her to miss a few spells here and there. If it weren't for Shadowheart dealing the final blow, Wynmoira probably wouldn't have returned to camp in one piece. Shadowheart didn't let it go unnoticed. She called her out for her lack of action, which Wynmoira quietly apologized for. She eventually went silent, too tired to continue arguing. Her eyes then glanced over to Gale.

His face was equally covered in blood, guts, and goo. He was just as tired and beaten as she was. But he walked with a stride that she always secretly admired. But right now, she couldn't feel admiration for the man. She felt a twang of jealousy, slight anger. Before their battle, he finally admitted why he needed to consume magical items. He was a walking time bomb, and it was all because of his intense love for Mystra, the Goddess of Magic herself. Hearing him go into brief detail about his love for her goddess brought a sour taste to her mouth. At first, she found it disrespectful to her deity. But then, feelings of jealousy began to form.

They had been traveling together for quite some time now. They've spent countless nights around a campfire, enjoying Gale's cooking for the group, discussing their favorite books, and making one another laugh during these troubling times. Whether she wanted to admit it to herself or not, Wynmoira began falling for the man. Things have changed since that night when they were messing around with the Weave. There were longing glances from time to time, her strong desire always to have Gale accompany her during their outings, even opening up more to him about her past. She felt more comfortable with him, something she hadn't experienced in so long.

But now, she can't help but feel like all that was for nothing.

"I hope Karlach has something cooked up. Honestly, I could go for a nicely cooked chevon," Gale smiled, gently patting his stomach. His eyes fell onto Wynmoira. Her breath caught in her chest momentarily as she locked eyes with him. "What about you, Wynnie?"

Wynnie. It was something only Gale would call her. Typically, hearing it brought small butterflies to her stomach and made her heart race. But now, it was different. It was like a punch to the gut. Reminding her that despite how close they had been becoming, it would never be as close as he was with Mystra. She mentally cursed herself for thinking such negative thoughts about her patron. She cursed Gale, too, for making her feel this way.

"I'll settle for berries," Wynmoira replied flatly. The smile fell from Gale's face, and he watched as Wynmoira picked up pace, now leading the tired group. Some smoke could be seen in the distance, letting the party know they were almost home. Wynmoira pushed past a few branches until she saw their camp. Karlach was gathered around the campfire, eating soup from a bowl and chatting with Wyll. Their eyes darted towards the incoming crowd, smiling.

"About damn time you got here," Karlach called out with a large smile. "I made soup," she raised a bowl towards Shadowheart. "And it's edible," Wyll teased, earning a playful kick from Karlach. Shadowheart smiled faintly, letting out a tired laugh. She didn't hesitate to make it to her tent. No doubt, she wanted to be free of dirt and bodily fluids before chowing down.

"I'm sure it'll be great, Karlach," Wynmoira smiled. "Just gotta freshen up first, then I'll join you guys." She turned her attention to her chest that rested beside Shadowheart's tent. She carefully undid a few of her bindings, allowing her to remove her armor and place them on the ground, leaving her in her dirtied tunic. Beside the chest was a bucket of water. She scrubbed the grime off her hands and fingers for a few minutes before being satisfied. She grabbed a change of clothes and a cloth to help her dry off after her bath. She made her way through the woods. There was a small river nearby, one that only Wynmoira seemed to know about. She tossed her change of clothes on a small stump before she began to free herself from her blood-soaked clothing slowly. The material practically stuck to her skin, and after a few moments of struggling, she was finally free. She tossed the clothes on the ground and slowly entered the river.

The water was cool on her skin, and she welcomed it. The night seemed hot, and the stark contrast was something she welcomed. She didn't stop until the water was just barely below her collarbone. She wiped at her skin under the water, trying to loosen the gunk from her body. She then pinched her nose, dipping beneath the water. She stayed under for a few moments, enjoying the silence. There were no chirping birds, no sounds of a busy city, no voices.

Just her.

For that moment, she could forget about everything. She could forget about her urges, pushing her to do horrendous things to innocents. She could forget about the tadpole wiggling around in her skull. She could forget about the trouble within the Grove. But most importantly, she could forget about Gale. Be free of the thoughts that plagued her mind, the thoughts of him making love with Mystra.

When she couldn't handle it anymore, she came up for air. She let out a few deep breaths. She was pushing herself, maybe even punishing herself. Why did she let herself get close to Gale? Why did she have to let him in? If she kept him at arm's length like she did everyone else, maybe she wouldn't be feeling this way. Why was he so nice, so welcoming?

Why did he have to tell her about him sleeping with Mystra?

Damn. She cursed under her breath, realizing how aggressive she was being with her hands as she scrubbed at her body. It didn't take long until she was clean, free of dirt or grime. She exited the water, dried herself off, and changed into clean clothes. She wrapped her dirty clothes in the cloth and carried it back to camp before discarding it with her dirtied armor. She made her way to the campfire, where Gale had joined Wyll and Karlach.

He was clean; his hair was wet with nice waves that rested just slightly past his shoulders. He had a large smile, which used to bring butterflies and warmness to Wynmoira's face. She said nothing to him, focusing on the soup Karlarch had made that rested in a pot above the fire. She made herself a bowl before sitting next to Karlach, wanting to be as far away from Gale as possible.

"And after all that, it turns out the old Hag tricked the poor girl! Her husband came back all right but as a zombie!" Gale boomed. He recounted their adventure, a sharp reminder to be careful about what you wished for. He took a spoonful of soup before turning his attention to Wynmoira. He noticed how quiet she was. His brows furrowed as he tried to study her, reading her face to figure out what was wrong. "Wynnie, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she replied flatly. She brought a spoon to her lips, sipping on the soup. It wasn't anything too special. It was potato soup, though there were some uneven chunks of potato. Despite the possible choking hazard, the soup wasn't too bad.

"Are you sure? You're more quiet than usual," Wyll asked. Karlach gave Wynmoira a slight nudge with her arm, carefully searching her companion's face. Wynmoira's lips were slightly downturned, and Karlach could tell something was off. Wynmoira locked eyes with the Tiefling momentarily and gently shook her head.

"I think we should call it a night," Karlach suggested. She then yawned, stood up, and headed to Wyll. "Besides, we got a long day ahead of us tomorrow, and you need your beauty sleep," she teased Wyll. He scoffed playfully at her words as he stood up. He said his goodnights to Wynmoira and Gale before leaving the two alone at the campfire.

The silence was loud between the two. The only noise between the two was the crackling of the fire before them. Wynmoira tried to enjoy her dinner, but she had no appetite. She idly stirred her soup before Gale finally broke the silence between them.

"Was it something I did?" He asked finally. Wynmoira took a deep breath before she spoke. She was mentally trying to play out this scenario. Does she tell him the truth, a half-truth, or a lie? She wasn't ready to come out and say she was jealous of her patron or feeling insecure about it all.

"I just..." She paused for a moment, trying to think of what to say. "I just didn't like how you kept your orb a secret," she lied. Her eyes finally lifted from her soup, meeting his dark brown eyes. "I thought we were friends, honest with one another, no secrets, you know?"

He breathed, placing his bowl on the ground before settling beside her. He radiated a warmth she'd come to love. A warmth she found so welcoming, a warmth she'd come to crave. But now, she felt uneasy.

"I know I should've said something sooner. Frankly, I didn't know how to go about telling it. And thought I had everything under control." He rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly.

"But you don't," Wynmoira protested. "You're a ticking bomb, and you did all this for power? For a woman?" Her voice cracked slightly. She felt a lump form in her throat as she felt herself grow a mixture of anger and sadness. He was willing to risk his life all for power. He didn't have to do that. She would've never made him do something so reckless, she thought.

He sighed, breaking eye contact with Wynmoira. "You don't understand. You don't know what it's like to be loved by Mystra. It's a powerful thing, something so strong it hurts, something that can't ever be matched."

His words stung. The way he talked about their relationship, it made her heart sink. She couldn't compete with something like that. She hoped for something special with Gale, but there was no way he'd go for someone like her. She was a simple human, there was nothing truly special about her. How could she ever be better with the Goddess Mystra? She felt her eyes begin to sting, tears quickly forming and threatening to fall down her cheeks. She couldn't cry. She didn't want him to see her like this.

"Nothing is worth risking your life like that." She placed her bowl on the ground. She stood up, ready to leave him alone, but she was stopped when he reached out to her, crabbing her wrist.

"Wyn, don't go," he pleaded. She hated herself for feeling like this. She hated herself for trusting him so easily. She hated herself from letting herself fall for him. She hated him for welcoming her. She hated him for making her believe that there was a chance for her to be happy, to find happiness with someone. But he was still caught up on his love for Mystra. Her eyes met his and his mouth dropped slightly.

No doubt he could see the tears forming in her eyes. A tear or two had fallen down her cheek, and his heart sunk. She was crying, and it was all because of him. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her. He tried to open his mouth to protest her leaving, but she cut him off.

"I think it'll be best for you to stay at camp for a bit," she quietly said. She sniffled before her eyes meeting his. Her stare was colder than normal. "It's been a rough couple of days. You could use the rest." She wiggled her wrist free from his grasp before retreating to her tent for the night.

[wheretheharekissesthefox]

Tav’s sex parade – Chapter 7: A different kind of goddess (Gale x Tav)

(Warning: vanilla sex, missionary, gentle slow sex, feels)

Gale knew he was boring regarding his bedroom activities. He preferred it slow and gentle, in the missionary position. He liked to look at his partner or bury his face in their neck. He loved the intimacy of it.

Tav didn't seem to mind it, sighing and moaning lowly, with her eyes closed and her legs wrapped around his waist. Sometimes, she placed one of her feet under his buttocks to push him deeper and harder into herself. Gale loved it.

He'd been foolish to believe that Mystra, the Goddess of Magic, loved him. To her, he'd just been a plaything. Something weak and fleeting. Merely a human. But he'd been young and naive back then, and it had cost him dearly. After his faux pas, Mystra had turned her back on him, leaving him lost in misery and confusion. Gale had hit rock bottom and his goddess hadn't cared. That's when he'd met Tav under less than ideal circumstances. But even after confessing having a Netherese Destruction Orb stuck in his chest that had turned him into a ticking time bomb that could made him blow up any time, Tav hadn't left him or sent him away. For the first time in years, Gale had found a friend – multiple friends actually. And he'd been floored. Their merry little bunch of weirdos had solved each other's personal problems and had defeated the Netherbrain. When all that had been over, they still hadn't left his side, and now, Tav and the others were here with him, in Waterdeep. Gale still thought he was dreaming sometimes.

Right now, he was making love to Tav, sensually rolling his hips into her while she'd wrapped her strong arms and legs around him. She sighed and panted happily and let Gale hide his face in the crook of her neck.

Mystra had left him, but he didn't care anymore. He had no feelings for the Goddess of Magic any longer.

Tav was everything Gale had wanted from his goddess, and even more; kind, gentle, loving, caring, honest, trusting, and, most importantly, right here in his arms. She was a goddess who wove her own kind of magic by creating the most beautiful songs and lyrical poetry with creativity, talent, and heart. She didn't look like a goddess though; too androgynous and muscular, with short hair and an average-looking face. But Gale loved it, she was a different kind of goddess, and he wanted to worship her. He loved her so much and would have done anything for her.

Gale panted against her shoulder as he got closer to his peak. His breath hitched as he tumbled over the edge, leaving him relaxed and euphoric.

With a content sigh, Tav turned her head to kiss his ear. She liked when her partners lay on her with their full weight. Gale had seen her with Shadowheart, Astarion, and Halsin this way too – even though the latter was rather heavy. Apparently, the bard didn't mind being squished by them.

"I love you," Tav said softly, and the wizard hugged her closer. There was no better goddess anywhere in all the Realms and Astral Planes, and Gale was allowed to hold her in his arms.

[tieflingtareon]

My love, are you the devil? (Oh, call me a devil)

Chapter 22 | Words: 4.2k

Summary: Astarion found himself often surprised by his heroic companion. He had one goal. To become the favoured companion of the group, to earn the Tieflings loyalty, to make Tar'eons strength his own. Yet Tar'eon isn't like the usual target of his manipulations. Despite his naivety, he does not seem gullible. There is something very wrong with their 'leader' to begin with. Astarion isn't sure if he wants to control it or eradicate the threat it posed. But can he really do either when Tar'eon himself seems so...unwaveringly kind?

That devil is getting into his head, while others get into Tar'eons. He doesn't appreciate not having the upperhand after years of being at the disadvantage. He will find a way to make him see.

He is the one he should be listening to. Astarion would make it so, no matter the means.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50668558/chapters/127995079

BLADEWEAVE CENTRIC CHAPTER

"I mean it. You don't have to watch over me like I'm your dying mother." Gale sighed as Wyll pulled up a chair beside the bed, holding out a bowl of stew.

"Perhaps don't mention dying mothers to the one who doesn't have one?" Wyll hummed and Gale had the decency to flush a little.

"My uh, my apologises."

"It's alright. I didn't know her. My parents were unmarried at the time, so when she died...it wasn't something my father and I spoke about often." Wyll sat back in the chair as Gale sat up with a small groan, taking the bowl from his hands. "You're not well. You say you have a heart condition, but..." He gestured to him. "This doesn't look like the typical heart condition, Gale. Be honest with me...is it magical?"

Gale spared a weak laugh, taking a mouthful of stew into his mouth. It was surprisingly good. Could do with some more salt, but Gale was picky like that, he supposed.

"Nothing natural about, so I'd say so. In fact, I would say it's karma for a wizard's hubris." He was too tired to bother dodging the subject anymore. In a days time, it would be expected of him to rush into Moonrise and blow himself up, whether the Heart of the Absolute should be. If not then, in a weeks time when they found it. Sooner or later, he would die, in Mystra's name.

Wyll crossed his arms over his chest and regarded him with a tilt of his head.

"Tell me more. Of your...of this wizard's hubris."

"That's a rather long and...complicated story." Gale admitted, staring into the bowl. Thinking about it all...it wasn't helping his appetite.

"I want to hear it. I like stories." Wyll was still hurt over the rejection, he wouldn't lie, but he could not ignore the mans suffering. He looked like he was wilting. He wasn't sure if he could help, but...he wanted to try. Even if all he could offer was an ear.

Gale sighed and placed the bowl of stew aside on the dresser. His hunger was not for food, so much as it was for magic. The cravings weren't gone, even with Elminsters help. He still felt hungry, even if it wasn't affecting the orb itself anymore. He hadn't seen Tara in days, and he wondered if it was because she was finding difficulty navigating the shadow lands, or simply could not reach him there. It hurt to think he might die without seeing her one last time. His only friend since childhood. She understood him in ways no other had been able to. She knew everything about him.

"I'm what one might call a wizard prodigy. Who from an early age could not only control the Weave, but compose it. Much like a... musician, or a poet." He waved his hand, gesturing to his former glory. It felt rather sad to think about when he knew how far he had fallen from his prodigy days. "Such was my skill that it earned me the attention of the mother of magic herself. The Lady of Mysteries. The goddess, Mystra." He still spoke her name with reverence despite what she was asking of him.

Wyll listened in silence, allowing the man to talk. He found it was easier to wait until he was done before interjecting, or the wizard would lose his place and remark on things he'd already said, or bring up things he hadn't mentioned before without context.

"She revealed herself to me and she became my teacher. In time, she became my muse, and later, even my lover." Wyll's eyes widened. No wonder he spoke of Mystra so highly. To love and be loved by a Goddess - well. It was hard to see why the man would choose to love anybody else when he had his own Goddess of Magic.

"I...How long?" Wyll asked.

"How long?"

"How long have you been...bedding a Goddess?"

"Ah, well...I no longer do." Gale admitted with a tight smile. "As for how long Mystra and I were together, I...I honestly can't remember. She's been there since I was young. I cannot remember when exactly our relationship shifted into what it was."

"You can't remember when you became the lover to a Goddess?" Wyll asked in disbelief.

"I cannot remember the exact moment, no. It just...happened." Gale frowned slightly, trying to remember when exactly they'd gone from teacher and pupil to a man and goddess sharing a bed. He'd been young, he knew that much, barely a whisker on his chin back then. She had always been radiant, and he had been devoted to her completely. He had been hers, and learnt many, many things under her tutelage. Especially in discovering an array of tricks when it came to the pleasure of ones partner.

"We enjoyed each other's company - mind, body and soul. But even so, I desired more." He sighed, thinking back to his own self-inflicted damnation. "You see, no matter how powerful a wizard we mortals can be, we never scratch more than the surface of the Weave." Even now, such a thing vexed him. To be a prodigy beneath Mystra herself and yet barely sinking his hands - or, hand now - into the Weave she had laid before him. It was a temptation that could drive any man mad.

"Mystra keeps us in check. There are boundaries she doesn't let us cross. Yet every time I was with her, I stood on the precipice, gazing into the wonders that laid before." Even now, he could see it in his minds eye. Wishing to reach out, even after he had been burned. "I sought to cross her boundaries."

"To cross a Goddess...you're more brazen than I assumed." Wyll both pitied his past naivety and respected his ambition. He had taken Mizora's pact for the benefit of others, but Gale's reasons for angering a Goddess had been purely out of the temptation she laid before him. "How exactly did you try and cross those boundaries?"

"I tried to convince her. I pouted, I pleaded, I swore my ambition was only to serve her better." And at the time, he had believed it, thought it true. "But she only smiled and told me to be contented." There was resentment in his tone, that of a spurned lover, and Wyll had a feeling Gale rarely let himself speak of Mystra in such a fashion.

"As inconceivable as it seems to me now. I shared a bed with a goddess and yet I wasn't satisfied. So I sought to prove myself worthy to her instead."

"I'm guessing this is where your hubris got the best of you?"

"Indeed. We come now to the crux of my folly." Gale chuckled, but there was no humour in it. "Shall I share the story behind it, or would you rather head to its sordid finale?"

Wyll shook his head, rising from his chair and seating himself on the mattress, leaning back against the headboard as he gazed upon the wizard.

"I'm intrigued. Tell me all of it. I do not skip pages in an interesting tale."

Gale shifted were he sat and rubbed a hand over his chest, the tattoo that encircled it. He was looking at Wyll like he was unsure if he should let him close the distance between them, but in the end, he allowed it.

"Very well." He turned his gaze to his lap, as not to twist his neck uncomfortably to look at the swordsman. "Here goes: Once upon a very long time ago, a mighty lord lived in a tower. A flying tower, to be precise. I'll save his history for another time, but the gist of it is that he sought to usurp the goddess of magic so that he could become a god himself."

Wyll glanced at Gale from the corner of his eye. He wondered if Gale had ever considered it. Usurping Mystra.

"He almost managed, but not quite, and his entire empire - Netheril - came crashing down around him as he turned to stone. The magic that was unleashed that day was phenomenal, roiling like the prime chaos that outdates creation." Gale seemed marvelled by the story itself as he spoke. "Even the Weave itself could not withstand the onslaught. It fractured, then shattered, and all magic was lost to the mortal realms until the day Mystra returned."

"She restored the Weave, reuniting all its scattered shards. Or so I thought, until in the course of my studies I learned of a book. A Netherese tome in which a piece of the fractured Weave had been sealed beyond her reach. 'What if?' I thought," Wyll could see where this was going before Gale even said the words.

"'What if, after all this time, I could return this lost part of herself to the goddess?'"

Wyll shook his head softly. Hubris had indeed garnered his action - but it had also been love. Devotion. It sadden to know that this story did not likely end well for Gale, given the 'sordid finale' he spoke of.

"And what was the answer to that question?"

"The answer was to try...and the outcome was to fail." Gale spoke the words with a heavy tone of regret, closing his eyes and shaking his head at his own youths foolishness. "I was certain that this deed of raw power draped in romance would convince Mystra to take me by the hand and welcome me into her hitherto forbidden domains. I was mistaken." He sighed.

"I obtained the fabled book and took it into my study. As for what happened next..." Gale finally looked at Wyll, turning to face the man and offering out his hand. Pleading to him with his eyes to trust him. "Here. Place your hand over my heart. Let me show you...what my hubris did to it."

Wyll hesitated before he reached out and placed his hand in his. Gale smiled, a soft, small smile filled with gratefulness as he pressed Wyll's palm to the centre of the ink - the mark of the Netherese - on his skin.

Gale took in a deep breath and blew it out slowly, centring himself as he closed his eyes, willing his mind, his magic, to open up to the man. He didn't like thinking of the night where it all went wrong, the intense agony as that shattered fraction of Weave imbued itself into his body, warped his soul - made himself the walking disaster waiting to implode, and the future weapon that would save the world from the Absolute.

He was willing. His fear of death, of the unknown - it did not matter in the grand scheme of things. This mission was given to him by his goddess. His magic, what it could do, was all his life had ever been worth - at least this way, he would go out with a bang. Nobody else would be caught in the blast except himself, and the enemy. That was his best outcome, when he thought about it. The most selfless, even if he wished to be selfish like any other mortal man.

Wyll's brows pinched, drawn deeper into the memory, a sense of dread overcoming him. Gale's own dread. Even before he opened the book, his instincts knew he was doing the wrong thing. His ambition to stand by her, his desire to please her, won out.

The folly of a mortal man seeking the wonders of godhood. Of ascension. Years of being told he was so grand, so talented - gifted - by her, yet never allowed more than any other wizard, accumulated into that fateful moment.

Wyll felt like he had become Gale in that moment, the fear, the anticipation, the agony - the Weave so dark he could not fathom even comparing it to the blackest, darkest of nights, pouncing onto him. It was biting, clawing, becoming apart of his very soul - and it hungered like nothing else Wyll had ever felt. Like it could not be sated, like it would always feel starved and deprived.

"Gods-" Wyll was breathing hard despite the lack of exertion, eyes wide as he stared at the wizard. He had thought selling his soul, transforming into a devil, had hurt; feeling Avernus' tar suffocate him, feeling the flames lick at his skin. But it was nothing like this special brand of agony that weaved into every fibre of his body - and that was only the memory of it. It was fading to a dull ache for him as the connection slowly tuned out, but did it still feel like that to the wizard? Did it ever cease?

"How are you still alive?" He asked in disbelief.

"Thankfully, the moment I absorbed the fragment wasn't enough to kill me outright. It was only the beginning..." The light faded from beneath Wyll's palm, becoming but a distant memory as he took in the perspiration on Gale's brow. He looked haggard. Despite it, he brought Wyll's hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to it. As if thanking him for enduring the memory with him. For listening. Wyll took his hand back with pursed lips.

"This Netherese blight...this orb, for lack of a better word, is balled up inside my chest. And it needs to be fed." He admitted, sounding irritation by the necessity. "As long as I absorb traces of the Weave from potent enough sources, it remains quiet. Were it ever to fully destabilise, however..." He looked hesitant to say it out loud, hoping he wouldn't have to. Wyll wasn't sure he wanted to either, shaking his head.

"I don't think I want to hear this...but I think I have an idea of what would happen." He'd seen enough in his mind, the whispers of his thoughts even within the memory.

"I will erupt." Gale looked at Wyll with haunted eyes. "I don't know the exact magnitude of the eruption, but given my studies of Netherese magic, I'd say even a fragment as small as the one I carry...It'd level a city the size of Waterdeep."

Wyll had been there once, a visitor passing through shortly after his father banished him. Being by the water had helped him collect himself, despite the grief he felt in losing his only home, his nobility. Waterdeep was a beautiful place to live - but he hadn't stayed long, Mizora giving him fresh orders to carry out. It was shortly after that time he dedicated himself as the Blade of Frontiers.

"Fortunately," Gale attempted a chipper tone, and if he hadn't been in his mind just a minute ago, Wyll might have believed it. "This need no longer be a concern. Not until I meet the Heart of the Absolute - whatever that is."

"The Heart of the Absolute...?"

"Yes, it's...well, it's the basis of my mission. The one Mystra gave me. Elminster gave me a temporary ailment, not that it seems to be doing much for me right now, but I'm to take myself to this Heart of the Absolute and...destroy it." There was no point in lying to Wyll now. Not when he already knew his secret.

"Destroy it...?" Wyll furrowed his brows, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "How exactly do you intend to do that once you meet this Heart?"

"Well, I'm hoping that the Heart will be in Moonrise Towers. Once I'm there, I will...voluntarily...detonate myself." He gestured vaguely with one hand like the idea wasn't more horrific than Wyll could even conjure up.

"You're going to kill yourself?"

"In a manner of speaking." He cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the topic.

"You're just accepting it? Like that? Because she told you to?"

"It's more complicated than that." Gale insisted with a huff, looking away. "It's...One day, I will die anyway. This thing in my chest - I won't be able to keep it stabilised forever. I'll die...and in the coming days after, I will explode, regardless. Why not choose my death? Why not give it meaning? Mystra gave me this task because she knew I could do it. And in doing so, I may regain her forgiveness for all wrongs I enacted upon her. She may bring me back into her graces, once it is all over. She knew I would do this, for her sake and everyone else's. It's...It's my duty, to use this curse for good. To sacrifice. I'm okay with that. It is the clearest solution to our problem. All I have to do is find the right place and time, close my eyes and...let go."

Despite his words, there was conflict brewing in those dark eyes.

"The slate will be clean. Wrongs will be righted, and the Absolute will be gone...and I along with it."

"Your duty?" Wyll scoffed out a laugh. "There nothing to die for in this. You've seen us, what we can accomplish, together. You do not need to throw away your life needlessly."

Wyll hesitated before he took Gale's hand in his once more, holding it tight and tilting his head down to meet his gaze. To allow his one good eye to stare into his very soul, tainted by Netherese magic or not.

"Listen...I might invoke the Triad from time to time, appeal to the Helm - but I am no man of faith. Not like you." He pursed his lips. "I don't know what drives a man to consider his own death, among countless others, to be an appropriate exchange for his goddess' forgiveness."

"I've told you, it's more complicated than that-" Wyll silenced him with a scowl.

"I told you to listen, and you will." Gale's jaw flexed, but he remained silent. Wyll's expression softened. "The faith that matters is that which you hold in yourself...In the ones who matter most to you." His thumb smoothed over the bruised, purple veins of the wizards hand, and Gale's previous irritation seemed to wane.

"Big bomb be damned, Gale, you have everything you already need to defeat the Absolute; talent, nerve and powerful allies at your side." He moved his hand away, and Gale's fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach back out for the touch. "I hope you'll come to see that in time."

"I'm afraid I don't have much time left to begin with." Gale smiled ruefully, the upturn of his lip full of sorrow. "Time seems so infinite when you're young. A month is an age, a year is a lifetime...it is a strange feeling, to realise how little time you have left."

"You will see the end of this journey." Wyll assured. "You will return to Waterdeep once we've defeated the Absolute. For what is Waterdeep of, if not Gale?"

Gale managed a weak laugh at the warlocks play on words. He still looked tired, but there was a weight that had been eased off his shoulders, telling someone else of Mystra's order.

"You ask me to spurn my goddess twice?" He mused. "That's quite the request."

"I do not ask you to spurn her. I ask you to put yourself first. You can't desire to die."

"It would certainly be easier if I did." Gale's voice was almost a whisper, closing his eyes with a soft sigh. His head felt heavy. He had not slept well, not with thoughts of his impending doom keeping him up all night. It was easier to read than think about how death might feel. The final chapter of his book, coming to an end. Would he be recorded somewhere, one day in the future, as a hero?

"Is that why you...you rejected me that night?" Wyll asked, voice hesitant.

"The only reason, if I'm honest." Gale shook his head with a humourless huff, raising his gaze to meet Wyll's. "I...I meant it. The idea - it's pleasant."

"And something you may...want?" Wyll tested the waters.

"In another life, absolutely. It's not often you meet a man you are sure you could take back to your mother." Wyll laughed, a bashful flush warming his cheeks.

"Perhaps, when all of this is over...There will be time for me to meet her. And for you to meet my father in return." He offered.

"A daunting prospect. I might choose blowing myself into oblivion first." Gale's tired eyes twinkled with mirth.

"Don't think so low of yourself. He'll probably like you more, considering you don't have horns." Wyll leaned in closer, his arm astride Gale's lap, fingers curling into the linen sheets. Gale did not shy away from the closeness this time, and Wyll smiled. "Once this is all over...I do hope to be welcomed back home. Perhaps with a ball, to celebrate our victory."

"I may be able to obtain your fathers favour then, if he enjoys a waltz." Gale smirked. "Mine was a popular hand at the annual Blackstaff's Ball."

"My father, no. But I? I love to dance. And I could always go for a new dance partner. I'd wager you are as elegant on the dance floor as you are on the battlefield."

"I can't say elegant, but something of the sort." Gale's eyes softened, gazing at the man with budding affection.

"Are we going to kiss now, or am I misreading this for a second time?" Wyll smiled, his voice teasing as he took the wizard's face in hand.

"You're not." Gale whispered, dark eyes watching the swordsman as he stroked his beard. Tara may have her complaints, but Wyll didn't seem to. After so long without human contact...it felt heavenly. "You didn't misread anything, now or then."

"Good." Wyll closed the distance and pressed their lips together sweetly, sinking his fingers into soft brown hair, smoothing a few grey strands back with his thumb. Warmth grew in his cheeks, trailing down his neck and shoulders with the comfort of a lovers embrace, the sudden rush of butterflies making his lips stretched wider into a grin as he tilted his head to kiss him some more.

There was nothing hasty in the locking of lips, despite knowing his last day could be tomorrow - or could be a week from now. Gale couldn't help but simply savour it, letting the world slow down until he thought he could count the finest grains of sands falling through the hourglass. He hadn't realised how much he'd needed this.

He didn't want to hurt Wyll. He didn't. But he craved this, needed it, and if it was the last thing he did, he could die with little regret. He could feel his heart pumping harder, feeling the orb reacting to it's stirrings, and he had to pull back, laughing breathlessly as he placed his hand to his chest.

"Perhaps we should end things here. I'm afraid I'm not allowed to get...too excited. Not in my current condition." If he was honest, he was exhausted anyway. He wasn't sure he'd be of much service, all things considered.

"Of course, I-" Wyll laughed softly, unable to hide the nervous giddiness in his voice. "You should rest. You cannot face the morrow if you do not bid farewell to the now."

"Wise of you." Gale chuckled, his eyes slipping shut. He felt heavy, right down to the bone. "As much as I'd love to spend this day getting to know all of you, I can concede to just a taste."

"A tempting offer. But alas," Wyll shifted onto his knees and eased Gale's heavy head onto his shoulder, a gentle hand cupping the base of his skull as he laid him back down on the pillow. "You need rest. Sleep."

"You're acting like Tara, bossing me around like that." He groaned softly, tipping his head back against the pillow, rather comfortable despite his complaints.

"I am hardly bossy. Who's Tara?" Wyll quirked a brow, unable to help himself from moving a strand of dark hair from his face.

"My friend. A Tressym." Gale smiled softly, happy to talk of her. Wyll slowly laid on his side, a hand propping his head up as he watched the wizard. "I had to be...Gods. Only a boy when I summoned her. I was so proud. I had always wanted a cat. My parents did not."

"Hard to banish a magical cat, if they've grown to favour you." Wyll chuckled warmly.

"Too true, and favour me she did." Gale's expression held nothing but love for the Tressym. "She's my best friend. I love her more than anything. She's been by my side through this whole orb business for...years."

"Tell me more. I want to know everything." Wyll urged him on, eyes warm with fondness as the wizard continued, swaying between different topics. Speaking of his home in Waterdeep, of his mother, his favourite wine, and the first time he made a meal, which went a lot better than his past attempt at potions it seemed. He spoke until he couldn't manage anymore words, almost too exhausted to move his lips.

"I think...it's time I rest."

"We are in agreement." Wyll stroked a gentle hand through his hair, the wizard turning into it even in his dozing. Despite the dark bags beneath his eyes, he looked at peace in his slumber. The swordsman smiled to himself and took the hand resting over his chest, pressing a kiss to it, chaste even as he lingered.

"Goodnight, Gale." He murmured against his skin and laid there, eyeing a tome on the bedside table. He picked it up and opened it, perfectly content to wait for the man to wake.

[keldae]

A Moment of Magic

Deviali was a lot of things, including an expert lockpicker, a smooth talker, and in possession of the worst luck in Faerûn, to have gotten saddled with a mindflayer tadpole in her head (her only consolation, looking around the camp, was that she wasn’t the only one with this abysmal luck). She was a vagabond who had grown up on the streets of Baldur’s Gate, learning to steal from the time she was a little girl. What else was there for a half-elf child? Her education had been in back alleys, with knives and lockpicks and disarming tricks. She’d only learned her letters and numbers at the behest of her older half-brother, Jehn – and even he had left her eventually. 

She was, to put it gently, a little rough around the edges. She certainly wasn’t academic, or smart in any way that wasn’t street-smarts or dirty fighting. And magic? That was a laughable concept. The gods hadn’t seen fit to grace her with an inborn ability to channel the Weave, and her father would never have been able to afford to send her to a school of magic, unless he’d managed to luck out on the heist of the century (and even then, he would never have spent that kind of coin on her). 

So how Devi came to find herself standing outside of Gale’s tent in the camp, watching his actions as he showed her how to open a connection to the Weave, was a mystery even to her. 

She liked the wizard – more than she had expected to, at any rate. The weird flutterings in her chest and how her belly seemed to flip on end when he smiled at her was an unexpected variable. He was too smart for her, too learned, too academic, too magical to meet her ordinary tastes in people when she wanted to blow off some steam. Shadowheart was far more her normal type, or Karlach (minus the whole walking-inferno thing). But something about Gale made Devi want to get and keep his attention. And the way he looked at her after demonstrating what was probably, to him, a simple spell, all full of expectation and hope… some part of her, rebelling against her normal nature, didn't want to let him down. So she studied his actions, then turned to replicate them as best she could. 

For all that she was a half-Elf, inheritor of a species known for grace and poise, she felt none of that legendary grace as she clapped her hands together once, then twisted her shoulders so she could clap again on the other side of her body, before making a pushing motion outward. It certainly didn't have Gale's elegant flourish to it. But apparently that didn't matter as far as the Weave was concerned, as a burst of purple light suddenly lit up the night before her. Devi softly gasped as she felt… something within her, feeling warm and comforting. She hadn't felt that level of calm, stable surety in years, and hadn't ever expected to feel it again. “Gale! You saw that, right?”

“I did indeed. Excellent,” Gale said, his voice low and rich with warm approval. “Now, repeat after me: Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao.” Devi could feel the flickers of power radiating from him as he spoke, magic coming easily to his call. She wanted to tell him that there was no way she could be as eloquent and powerful with her words as he was…

But how could she disappoint Gale now, when he looked at her with that gaze? Devi opened her mouth, her tongue tripping over the unfamiliar language Gale would have her speak. “Ah-Thran...”

Gale nodded encouragingly, his dark eyes smiling in the starlight.

“... Mystra-Ryl…” Devi felt a little flicker of power deep inside her belly, and focused on it as she finished the words. “Kantrach-Ao!” There was another burst of violet light, and Devi could smell rosewater in the air around her, making her feel utterly calm and content with life, even with the parasite in her head. There was a little burst of sweetness on her tongue, like the sugary treats that she’d rarely been able to get as a child, yet somehow more wholesome than even those delicacies.

“Very good!” Gale beamed proudly. “Now, I want you to picture in your mind the concept of harmony. As true as you can.”

“Harmony?” Devi tilted her head in thought, thinking. Her life wasn’t terribly harmonious, what with growing up on the streets of Baldur’s Gate. Yet, there had to have been a few moments of harmony during her years of existence. After all, right now here with Gale, under the stars, learning magic under his guidance, felt really, really… nice. 

Unbidden, a memory came to mind, one of her earliest memories – the little patch of garden behind the old house. Jehn sitting under a tree with her, laboriously reading a story to her from an old book and showing her the pictures on the pages. Mama taking a moment from her labour to smile at the two children, seemingly forgetting all the woes that the gods had settled on her shoulders. It had been so long, Devi almost couldn’t remember the details of her mother’s face… but she did remember that smile.

Violet light drew her out of her musings, along with a flowing, secure warmth in the air around her. She swore she could sense the presence of another woman – the woman who had hovered in conjured light over Gale’s palm when she’d come up to the wizard that evening. Unbeknownst to Devi, her hand drifted out until her fingers met Gale’s at his side, hesitating, then cautiously reaching for him. She almost panicked and jerked her hand back until she felt his own fingers respond, gently tangling with hers as he turned to look at her, soft pride in his eyes and a pleased smile on his lips–

Devi, why are you looking at the wizard’s lips? He fucked a goddess, he can’t possibly be interested in you! And yet, Devi couldn’t bring herself to pull her hand away from Gale’s. She swore she could feel the anticipation of a kiss, before she felt herself being cloaked in a sense of peace she’d only rarely felt before. She felt completely safe, here and now, tadpole in her brain be damned. She smiled, then looked away from Gale’s lips, lest she give in to her reckless urge to kiss the human. 

If Gale noticed where her gaze had been directed, he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he chuckled proudly. “You did it! You’re channelling the Weave. How does it feel?”

“It feels… hells, there’s no words for this,” Devi breathed out, looking around at the purple lights flowing around her and Gale. If Mystra was watching this, she didn’t seem to be objecting at her former lover with his new… what even was Devi to Gale? A student, now? A friend – certainly, Devi hoped they were friends at this point. But more than friends… now, that was an idea she could get behind. “It feels… magical,” she finally said, feeling a little lame for the descriptor. “Sensual, even.”

“That it does,” Gale agreed, a grin forming little creases by his eyes. Still with his fingers entwined with Devi’s, he turned to look at her again, rather than admire the magical glow around the pair of them. Devi felt herself drawn back to his gaze, letting herself feel the new sensations that the Weave was creating within her. This moment, with Gale, felt… intimate. Sensual, she had said to him, describing channelling the Weave? Yes, sensual – that was a good word. 

Beyond even the telepathic connections that the tadpoles gave them, Devi was sure she could feel Gale’s mind almost as clearly as she could feel her own. She had the sudden idea that she could imagine what she wanted, and the wizard would understand it. Only one way to test that theory… She let herself think on the fantasy she had entertained earlier that day, of the wizard’s big hands caressing her neck over her rose tattoo before pulling her in for a kiss – slow, at first, but with increasing passion. What would he taste like, if she kissed him? As good as the Weave had tasted on her tongue?

Gale’s eyes widened; Devi felt his heart skip a beat. “I… I didn’t think…” he stammered out. Through their connection, she could feel short, sharp bursts of embarrassment and trepidation, and quickly moved to let go of his fingers, already opening her mouth to apologise for her forwardness. 

His fingers tightened on hers, preventing her easy escape, as nothing short of elation surged through the night air from him. “Don’t go,” he quickly said. “Sorry, I, uh, wasn’t expecting… but it is a pleasant image, to be sure!” If it was daylight, Devi suspected that she would have seen the tips of his ears flushing red. “Most pleasant, in fact. Most welcome.”

“Really?” Devi felt her lips pull upward in a smile as she stepped a little closer to Gale. “Were you thinking about the possibilities too?”

“I wouldn’t have dared impose,” Gale hurriedly said. “But… I would be lying if I said I hadn’t… considered it. That you apparently were thinking about it too…”

And then Mystra apparently decided to spoil the moment – or Devi’s focus had run out. The Weave evaporated, leaving the night feeling cold; Devi’s skin rippled with gooseflesh as she shivered. Feeling more than a little lonesome without the Weave enrobing her, she inched closer to Gale, half in search of his body heat.

“Ah. There it goes.” Gale sighed, apparently feeling the same forlornness that Devi did without the Weave. “How easily things slip away from us, no matter how hard they were in the obtaining.”

“Does it always feel like that?” Devi wondered, looking up at Gale. “That… warm, and comforting, and…”

Gale smiled. “It does. Although your first time channelling the Weave is always special. Nothing else quite feels like it.” His eyes, already gentle tonight, seemed to grow still softer yet as he gazed down at the half-Elf before him. The hand that wasn’t entwined with Devi’s fingers came up to caress her neck, right over the rose tattoo, like she had imagined. Her breath caught in her throat as the wizard leaned in slightly. Was this it? Was he going to kiss her like her fantasy had said?

“Not yet,” Gale murmured, in a low, husky tone that spoke of promises for later. “It’s late, and we both should sleep.” He gently tugged her in closer to him; Devi felt her heart race as he stooped slightly, just enough to press his lips to her forehead in a gentle, lingering kiss. “Good night, Devi,” he softly said. “I enjoyed sharing a moment of magic with you.”

“Good night, Gale,” Devi whispered, smiling at the wizard before she finally stepped back from him, her hand releasing his fingers and letting his arms drop to his sides. Feeling his eyes on her, she slowly turned and made her way back to the fire, and her waiting bedroll. She could feel Shadowheart’s eyes on her as the Shar acolyte (poorly) pretended to sleep, as clearly as she could sense Astarion’s judgemental look. She knew she would have to fend off questions from the both of them, and from Karlach, in the morning about how her evening with Gale had gone.

But Devi, normally the type to fuck someone and gloat about it later, didn’t want anything to spoil the memory of her intimate lesson in magic with Gale. And the sparks that had been flying in the shadow of his tent weren’t all courtesy of the Weave.

[ilanorgratvol]

Rough tempest they will raise - Part 10

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Part 8 Part 9

After several days of preparation, the group was finally ready to head out for reconnaissance at the Moon Towers. The idea of continuing to pose as followers of the Absolute to infiltrate deeper into the cult was as brilliant as it was insane and dangerous. But, in the absence of other alternatives, the group of misfortuned comrades decided to stick with this plan.

Talia was descending from the second floor, adjusting her vest, when Gale came up to meet her and lightly touched her hand:

"Not today."

"What nonsense. Everyone is going - I am too," - Talia continued to lace up her vest, which she usually wore over her shirt.

"As useful as your skills might be to us, you can't go. Let's just say, it takes a certain quality, not widely available these days, to pass as one of their own in this twisted place," - he grimaced, bringing a finger to his temple, - "Besides, you're needed here. After what happened with Isobel, someone needs to stay here in case Thorm tries to kidnap her again. And I don't know anyone better suited for that role than you."

"Don't start, Gale! Why not just tell the truth, that you simply don't want me underfoot," - Talia snapped, throwing her backpack on the floor, realizing that arguing was pointless.

"I'm no saint. I have many sins to my name, but lying is not one of them," - the wizard frowned, -  "And speaking of the truth, when were you going to tell me that your deal with Elminster was called off?"

Talia's expression shifted from anger to surprise, and then to a sullen acknowledgment: 

"You're well-informed, aren't you?" - she retorted, her tone tinged with bitterness.

Gale's eyes softened slightly: 

"I'm just being logical. The orb is stable, albeit temporarily, which makes your part of the deal quite literally unachievable."

Talia sighed, her frustration fading into resignation. She hadn't planned on telling the wizard about how her last conversation with Elminster had ended. This agreement was the only thing that stopped her in Gale's eyes from leaving their group and returning to the search for her brother, and admitting that there was something bigger behind it was not in her plans. Not now, when the wizard couldn’t take his eyes off that omnipresent redhead, whose voice sliced through the tavern's silence each evening, attempting to lift the spirits of the residing harpists and tieflings.

“You know full well that the Absolute threatens not only these lands. Whatever or whoever is behind all this clearly aims not just to settle in the towers and rule these lands. Something big is brewing...,” - Talia tried to change the subject, - "If it plans to destroy the world as I know it, it's in my interest to ensure this group of weirdos does everything correctly."

The wizard nodded slightly in response, thoughtfully, as if expecting a different answer, then concluded:

“Do as I ask, please.”

Talia glanced away in displeasure for a moment, then looked at Gale and nodded, sighing:

"Fine. But if you dare follow Mystra’s order and blow yourself up while I’m not around, I’ll fetch you from the afterlife and the wrath of your goddess will seem like a blessing to you."

He just smirked slightly: 

"Don’t worry. If it comes to that, I’ll make sure you’re holding my hand..."

"Promises, promises," - Talia waved dismissively, - "Go on. Your skills, such as they are, wizard, are needed elsewhere."

“Oh... So that’s what you think of me...,” - Gale placed his hand on his heart.

"You said it yourself, only the truth," - Talia smiled as she saw him and the rest of the group leave the tavern.

Thus began the agonizing days of waiting for news. Each time they returned from the towers to rest at the tavern, bringing a new batch of information about the Absolute and the events unfolding around them, the faces of the companions reflected less confidence in their abilities and more despair. No longer were there evenings spent at the bar with mutual jests and conversations. Each night, exhausted, they returned to the light of Selûne’s blessing, only to disperse to their rooms and collapse onto their beds, hoping to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Gale grew darker and more melancholic by the day. He increasingly preferred to shut himself in his room, alone with his thoughts, or to spend time on the shore of the lake near the tavern, where no one could disturb him. It seemed the inevitability of his fate had finally fully caught up with him, and the wizard, however initially glad he had been for the company after a year confined in his tower, could find solace only in bitter solitude, away from sympathetic glances and Tav’s dwindling attempts to persuade him otherwise.

The fate of the abducted tieflings also remained unknown, and each evening Rolan watched the group returning from the towers in hope, only to quickly return to the false comfort found at the bottom of a bottle.

But finally, one evening, everything changed. Talia was sitting on the balcony, keeping company to Isobel, when a bright flash streaked across the sky toward the towers, momentarily illuminating the cursed sky.

“It can’t be a star or a meteor…” - Talia frowned, rising from her chair.

“I thought for a second…” - Isobel peered into the sky, hoping to see the flash again. Then she returned to maintaining the protective shield, sighing, - “It must be an echo of one of your friends’ spells. Nothing more…”

“I doubt it…” - Talia leaned on the balcony railing, gazing into the sky and the lake’s surface below. For a while, her eyes saw nothing but the all-consuming cursed darkness that had become familiar, but then…

“Are those… boats?” - Talia noticed people approaching the tavern’s dock. The lanterns and torches had been prudently extinguished, so they could only be seen when they were very close to the pier.

Talia left Isobel’s room and dashed down the stairs just as the tavern's back doors swung open, and through them entered a small group of very weary, worn, but happy tieflings. Talia involuntarily smiled, noticing Cal and Lia among them. She was about to rush down the stairs to greet them but stopped herself just in time, noticing Rolan, who coldly welcomed the twins. It seemed like only a second before their greeting escalated into an argument and then, just as quickly, the argument turned into warm embraces.

Following the tieflings, the rest of the companions entered through the tavern door. Talia’s eyes followed Gale, who, without raising his eyes, walked through the animated crowd to the opposite exit of the tavern, heading to his usual place of solitude by the lake. Talia quietly followed him, trying not to reveal her presence.

She found him near the shore, on a secluded meadow hidden by dense foliage and overgrown with grass. He sat on a small blanket, leaning back on his hands, his gaze fixed on the sky, where, to Talia’s surprise, a aurora borelias of clearly magical origin stretched across the sky.

She quietly emerged from her hiding spot and approached the wizard: 

"Good job." 

He jerked slightly in surprise, turning toward the voice: 

"Oh, this... it's my little project, while I'm still capable of something..." 

"That flash in the sky - was that your doing too?" - Talia sat down next to him. 

"That was merely the daughter of Selûne, whom Shadowheart freed today from centuries of bondage. My magic had nothing to do with it." 

"Oh, just that..." - the sorceress smirked, glancing at the wizard and eliciting a light chuckle in response. 

"Wizards and their egos..." - Gale shrugged, trying to keep his composure.

Talia smiled, shifting her gaze back to the sky:

"Did you do this for Tav?"

"Just a little gesture to show the feelings of an old lonely wizard. The curse is still present of course - just veiled and at arm’s length for now. Not a trick I can repeat often…" - he sighed heavily, leaning his arms on his knees before him, slightly hunched as if hiding from the outside world. He nervously fiddled with his fingers, - "But clearly she's one who's more interested in quantity than quality..."

"Halsin, right?" - the sorceress sympathetically placed her hand on his shoulder, barely concealing the warm feeling spreading through her chest.

"Bloody Halsin!" - the wizard irritably jumped to his feet, clenching his fists.

"What can I say..." - the sorceress followed him, barely holding back a smile, - "the elf can certainly boast big... ears." - a light chuckle escaped her mouth nonetheless.

Gale paced a little, visibly trying to shake off his irritation:

"I suppose everyone has their... talents," - he said, half-heartedly trying to find humor in his own discomfort.

"Seriously, how are you feeling?"

"Lost, humiliated, lonely..." - he cast a glance at the sky and gave a bitter smile, - "Nothing I haven't been familiar with before."

He pondered for a second, then continued:

"This may be my last night alive. I wanted it to be under a canopy of beauty and wonder..." - his look was filled again with that bitter irony about himself and what awaited him at the end.

The sorceress grabbed his hand, forcing him to turn towards her and look at her. She irrationally hoped that somehow the wizard might change his mind, but it seemed the more time he spent alone with his thoughts, the deeper he convinced himself of the inevitability of his fate, ordained by his goddess:

"Is this truly what you want?! To die for the promise of Mystra's forgiveness?"

"Babe or crone, coward or hero, death is assured. Mystra's forgiveness is not. If you knew the end was near, would you not want to ensure it had meaning?"

Talia scoffed, releasing his hand:

"Of course! In fighting against what seems invincible. In trying to overcome what seems insurmountable. What meaning are you trying to find in your own death?! You will find nothing but oblivion!" - Her voice slightly broke at the end, betraying her emotions.

He reached forward, seeking her hand again:

"I don't want to argue and fight today," - he took her hand in his, stepping closer, - "I wasn't expecting company tonight, but yours is welcome. Most welcome, to be honest."

"Gale, we need to discuss this while..."

"Shh..." - the wizard stopped her mid-sentence, - "All you need to do tonight is allow me to thank you for what you've done for me."

"I didn't..."

"Tally..."

The sorceress paused for a moment, realizing how he had addressed her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, nodding:

"Fine. What do you have in mind?"

"For tonight, forget the Absolute, the quests, and the curses. Let’s just be two souls enjoying the ephemeral beauty of a world that still has wonders to show us," - Gale said, gently releasing her hand and stepping back, now smiling, - "I don't have much to offer, given our circumstances, nothing but my mind. But I dare hope, that will be enough," - he began slowly moving his hands, preparing to cast a spell, - "I want you to close your eyes. Can you do that for me?"

Talia crossed her arms skeptically: 

"What are you planning to do?"

Gale slightly smiled, not stopping his hand movements: 

"I had hoped I'd earned your trust, given all we've been through together, but since that's the case... I want to give you one evening. A place where you were once happy. Where your heart and soul once found peace and tranquility."

"An illusion?" - Talia frowned.

Gale nodded reluctantly: 

"Basically, yes. But please... indulge me in my reverence, for once."

Talia closed her eyes uncertainly: 

“To create such an illusion, you need a reference that I cannot provide. I don’t know when I was happy enough for it to have imprinted itself so strongly in my memory.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Talia heard the faint rustle of steps on grass, and then his warm breath on her face and gentle fingers on her temples: 

“What do you take me for, a third-year student?” - Talia was about to open her eyes, but he stopped her, - “Stay still, relax. Our minds are a whirlpool of thoughts and feelings, often too complex for us to untangle ourselves. But someone who knows where to look…”

Talia felt a familiar tingling on her skin - the Weave enveloped them like a giant cotton blanket, creating an impenetrable shell around them. She stood motionless, enjoying his steady breath on her cheek.

“This is... unexpected,” - the wizard finally spoke again. His hands returned to their usual position along his body.

Talia slowly opened her eyes. They were standing in the middle of his library. The setting sun, as before, penetrated through the windows and the open balcony, illuminating the room with warm light. Books and scrolls were scattered around exactly as they had left them before leaving the tower. On the desk, there were two mugs of hot coffee, as if they had just been carefully prepared.

“I thought you said this was supposed to be my favorite place, not yours,” - Talia frowned, though she couldn’t help but notice the detailed accuracy of the illusion he had created. Everything felt real - the smells, the sensations, the feelings…

“It is. Yours. I’m sure of it,” - Gale approached the table, gently running his fingers over it as if greeting an old friend, then turned back to her, smiling softly, - “You don't need to explain anything. Just enjoy another warm evening alone with books and their misfortunate master. I like to believe that this, even if just for a fleeting moment, made you happy.”

"Gale, I..." - Talia didn't know what to say. Not because she didn't know how to wrap her feelings and emotions into words, but because she couldn't comprehend what she was feeling at that moment at all. 

"Your coffee," - the wizard extended one of the cups to her. 

The sorceress gratefully took it into her hands and took a sip. God, it seemed like it had been so long, almost as if it were another lifetime. Could it be that this old library, this sharp coffee, this damned scent of the sea ingrained in the walls, and him - the wizard with an immeasurably huge ego and an equally large heart - was what had filled her life with meaning for the first time in many years?

Gale, seemingly lost in his thoughts, walked out to the balcony. He leaned slightly on the railing, peering into the distance at the illusory sea where similarly illusory ships disappeared into the sunset. The sun reflected in his brown eyes, turning them almost golden. His hair fluttered slightly in the wind.

Talia approached him, gazing into his face, trying to discern what he was feeling. The wizard sighed heavily and melancholically, not taking his eyes off the horizon:

"I used to think that the main purpose, the meaning of life, was to strive for perfection, for greatness… for power..." - he turned his gaze to the sorceress, - "You've made me think otherwise."

“I wouldn’t say that perfection and greatness are bad things...” - Talia tilted her head thoughtfully.

“You know what I mean.”

“Of course, I know...” - She set her cup down on the table and then firmly took his hand, joining him in gazing out at the horizon.

The wizard squeezed her hand in return, remaining silent. They stood together in silence for a while, each lost in their thoughts, the gentle breeze tugging at their clothes. The fading light painted the sky in shades of orange and purple, the illusionary sea below reflecting the dramatic colors…

[estevnys]

eventually i'll clean this up but. for now. i wrote this at 1 am on my phone please ignore any terrible typos and selling mistakes. wren (tav mentioned here) is a purple tiefling feylock/tempest sorceror. her and gale are definitely Not. In Love. (They are in love)

It is not, he makes very clear, laying by the fire and practically beating off Shadowheart and Astarion with a stick for their incessant gossip hounding, any of their business whether or not he and Wren are together.

"Is it because. . . You know. . " Astarion raises his eyebrows to make clear his teasing tone. He shoots a glance to Shadowheart, which Gale follows, and then it is a strange voyeuristic showdown-- he watching the two of them waggle eyebrows at each other and then back at him.

"I surely don't know what you mean." He says, and it is the truth.

Shadowheart giggles. "And you claim to be the smartest among us." Her gaze slides momentarily to his chest, and his heartbeat flickers in time with the orbs incessant thumping. I'm here, it says and it is Mystra's voice, always her voice, don't forget the debt you owe. After the panic subsides, he realizes that Shadowheart cannot also hear Mystras mocking tone, and instead is just staring at his shirt.

When Gale remains speechless, glancing again between the two of them and then down at his shirt , they begin to giggle like schoolgirls.

"Whatever it is, it's not funny." He says with a frown.

Astarion, mid cackle, slaps his thigh in his merriment at Gale's suffering. "Oh, it definitely is, darling."

"Well then, if its such a laugh, spit it out." He motions his hand at them, his joy at a fire night by the fire with some of his excellent cooking quickly fading at their shenanigans.

"Well we're just curious." Shadowheart starts, but is cut off by her giggles. Gale's frown only deepens. "You and Wren--"

At the mention of their resident Sorcerer, a summer storm with legs, and all around chaotic miscreant, Gale stiffens. Had they not be discreet enough?-- he hadn't wanted to embarrass her, in fact he'd wanted the opposite it was his idea after all that they keep this whole thing quiet--

"Oh, stop freaking out. Its fine! We all need our. . . Orbs touched once in a while." Astarion says, almost choking on his wine.

Gale scoffs, "My condition is nothing to laugh at, I assure you--"

"Yes, of course, but you know what they say, tragedy is just comedy with worse timing and all that." If he could, he'd punch the damn vampire in the face this instant, or, more likely, blast him with a firebolt right to the chest. But he was a better man than that. At least he wanted to try to be a better man than that.

"Fine." Gale huffs.

Shadowheart steals another playful glance at astarion, and the vampire spawn finally gets out with it-- "We were just wondering, really, what the whole deal was with you two. So many whispers and secrets and soft caresses. Eugh." He gagged dramatically, which only made Gale want to strangle him more. Did the man have no class? No sense of romance?

As soon as the thought hit him, he realized its coldness. It sounded like another non-caring figure he'd rather avoid in his life for now.

"We just want to know," Shadowheart looks at his shirt again, and as she says it, it hits him as well. Hot blush creeps up his cheeks. "Is it because she's purple?"

Gale wishes he could blow up right here. Right now. The embarrassment would be less than that. "Its fine if it is, I mean. You two do kind of match, in a cute way."

[sipsoftea]

I finally got bg3 and now i can draw for it without feeling like a fake fan :D so some first thoughts are in order I think.

1. I'm head over heels for gale. I really thought I'd be an astarion or a karlach kinda gal, and don't get me wrong, i am, but I fell in love with gale the moment I pulled him out of the portal and he immediately started on a rant giving me all the tadpole lore he had available.

2. I cried over how frickin sweet and compassionate karlach is. *spoilers* I don't remember her exact words, but when I told her about how gales ex wants him to blow himself up for her "forgiveness" karlach was so aggressively compassionate, saying something along the lines of "any God who tells you to blow yourself up, is no God worth worshipping" and I love her so so so much, for her compassionate wisdom and for who she is as a person.

3. The music is actually frickin incredible. I hadn't heard any of the music before I bought the game, I assumed it was good because games like that usually have a big emphasis on music, but goodness gracious, I wasn't ready for it to knock my socks off like that. genuinely breathtaking.

4. I don't like to swear, but fuck death shepherds. they are the most obnoxious freaks I've ever had the displeasure of coming across, I hope they step on Legos and trip into the fiery pits of hell, where they'll be forced to fight their own kind without the use of their own magic.

5. Scratch is the best boy. I would die for him.

6. I don't want to hate on anyone's choices in favorite characters, but I cannot stand shadowheart. I'll probably be eating my words once I get to know her better, but I sincerely wish she'd shut up about her goddess. I'm currently in the middle of doing shar's gauntlet, and she keeps bringing up the fact that she was "meant to be here", and that "shar must favor her somehow". Like, bestie... that can't possibly be a good thing. From my understanding, most of the gods in this game are actually trash, like dumpster fire levels of horrid. Like mystra asking gale to kill himself for her forgiveness, or whatever tf the absolute is, or shar taking peoples memories and lives if they stay in her shadow realm without a light source for too long. And I don't want to victim blame or anything. I think she mentioned she was raised in the church, so I imagine all this was forced into her head from a very young age. It just wears on me a little, that's all.

7. Everyone wants to get with me EXCEPT gale. I love him to bits, but man he's a challenge to romance ((and i would like to say, i really do love the platonic love my tav and gale have for each other, it's really sweet)). Shadow heart invited me to drink with her at the party, I ended up having to load a save because I'm terrible at rejection and I didn't want to romance her.

Next, I went to camp and the game immediately forced me into a dance cutscene with wyll, I once again had to load a save because I'm terrified of rejection. And gale is just like "wow, you're such a good friend :))" and I'm more than happy to be his friend, don't get me wrong. I just want to cuddle my wizard under the stars while we talk about our favorite interests, is that so much to ask?

But over all, this game is incredible. I've been playing nonstop for the last three days or so, it's really been a joy. Now I just need to figure out how to draw all of my favorite characters so I can post a bunch of scribbles >:))

[lespetitestortuesdemer]

I loved Lae'zel from the moment I met her. I loved that in Act 1, before you meet Karlach, she is the only member of your party that is completely honest with you from the get go. But what truly sold me on her is her reaction to Gale getting the order from Mystra to blow himself up.

Given her devotion to Vlaaktih (I hadn't been to the creche yet) I completely expected her to say that if Mystra, Gale's goddess, told him to blow himself up, then it was his duty to do so.

Instead she questions why he should ask for forgiveness for a god who doesn't care about him. And she proclaims that if Mystra is asking him to sacrifice himself, then it just means she has no confidence in him or the "mighty company he keeps" and that they are well able to beat the Absolute without such a sacrifice.

Lae'zel isn't kind, or nice, but at some point she developps an unshakable confidence in you and the party. Even faced with the worst fate she could think off, she never gives up and she asks you to do the same. Lae'zel is all grit and determination, but she trusts you and the companions so much at some point. Just like she's against Gale sacrificing himself for his Godess, she wants the party to suceed and she is maybe the one person who is the most adamant that you can do it.

I do wish more people appreciated Lae'zel. Look, she is not Nice, but she can be very Kind. She is patient, and loyal, and terrified. She has been taught to be violent and does not understand Faerun's culture, but she is not malicious. She takes all new knowledge and internalizes it because she is willing to overcome her pride when necessary. She is prideful, but not to the point where she is unreasonable. She listens to others when they have things to contribute, and she's willing to share her own expertise to help the others become better. She is literally 22. She is the Youngest of the entire group. She's just trying so hard to appear confident and competent among all these people so much older than her, all while handling the most stressful situation she could have ever imagined. (Even Karlach is in her mid-to-late twenties at the least.)

[wildskissed]

Eve nods as she leans up to press a kiss to his forehead. A burden still seems heavy on his heart, she can see it in his eyes. It's a weight she would carry if he asked, but she knows better than most just how important it is sometimes to do things on your own. This was just one of those things, and while she would rather help him to carry this, she understands. She's convinced that before Elminster stabilized the orb, Gale was in chronic pain, and there's nothing stopping Mystra from returning Gale to that state. She knows she has to do anything she can to make sure that Mystra doesn't do that to him, but perhaps Gale is right: perhaps only he can do it. After all, she hadn't wanted to talk to her. “As long as there are no more moves to try to blow yourself up, I don't see why I can't put all my trust in you to manage it--just remember that you're not a pawn in her lanceboard set, Gale.”

She means that more than he knows, but she also doesn't want him to keep stewing in this moment of perpetual dread. There will be time to stress over what Mystra will say, but right now, her arms are circling his shoulders, and her lips find the tip of his nose to bestow a gentle kiss upon it. “Do you know why I trust you? Why I believe in you and what your heart tells you? You ignored your own pain, your own needs, and everything else to help people that needed help. We have parasites burrowed in our brains, and you still managed to care more about Arabella, and the Tieflings, than about yourself. I wasn't even sure you liked me yet, and you got all huffy about Nettie. You were there for Shadowheart and Aylin. You were kind to Yenna when I let her stay in camp...you are a genuinely good person. Too good for me, but I'm grateful that I have you anyway. I love you. You are the most important person to me, and I will always have your back,” she promised, nuzzling his nose with her own. “May I...may I show you something?”

A deep sigh escapes Gale's lips, a release of tension he did not even realize had been building up inside. Slowly, he raises his hand and gently places it over where her palm rests upon his chest, giving it a tender squeeze. He can feel the steady beat of his heart against her hand and it fills him with comforting warmth. Oh, she is quite wise beyond her years, though she may not recognize it herself. To this wizard, it is one of the most endearing qualities about her. And as much as he trusts Eve, perhaps even more than he trusts himself, Gale knows confronting Mystra once more is a burden he must carry alone, for now. “You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, but I thank you nonetheless.” His voice is barely above a whisper, yet it carries weight, “I suspect it is still for the best if I am the only one to return to Mystra, alone. Unfortunately, I will not be able to say all I might desire if I am to gain her favor, and thus, have the orb removed.”

A deep sense of unease settles in the pit of his stomach, knowing he will have to ultimately bow and scrape for Mystra's forgiveness, despite how very little she deserves it. But the orb is a much larger issue at hand, one that threatens to consume his entire existence if he cannot find a way to rid himself of this Netherese blight. There is no life to live, no future he can provide Eve, so long as it resides inside him. He takes a deep breath and resigns himself to playing along to eradicate this problem at all costs—if playing nice and groveling is what it takes to save himself and those he cares for, then so be it. “With luck, this will be over before we know it and we can find a better future, one together.”