#weavebcund

[grymfared]

❲ @weavebcund ❳

This strange city was a far cry from the familiar surroundings of Baldur's Gate, or in fact any place in Faerûn that Malchior had ever been in. Well, maybe that was a lie- there were some similarities, but not enough for him to feel any sort of comfort- he'd been able to navigate somewhat ⎛ mostly with Raven's help- truly, the tressym had been his saving grace after he'd fallen into such misery ⎠ - the locals found him handsome and charming, he had caught a fair amount of people looking his way, and wasn't that nostalgic?

He and Rorek had been rather well liked back in Baldur's Gate. And speaking of Rorek ...

Brown hair with a gentle wave. The garb of a wizard- Malchior's heart skips a beat and he snatches Raven up from the spot she'd chosen for a quick nap ⎛ much to her chagrin- ⎠ and the tressym lets out a startled meow as she's squeezed a little too tightly.

Numbly, Malchior loosens his grip and allows her to land beside him as he simply stares at the man before him. Upon closer inspection, the man is most certainly not Rorek, but ... perhaps in another lifetime ...

He sees himself growing old with the wizard at his side. They spend their youth exploring Faerûn, considering following the path of the city's founder- deciding against it in favor of simply settling down, because they've earned it. Rorek is older, but no less handsome, and Malchior's white hair doesn't look so out of place for his age. Two tressyms are curled up by a warm hearth- In another life, they're happy.

The vision fades and he's faced again with the situation at hand. Raven looks up at him with no small amount of concern, and Malchior realizes that he's crying. ❝ Sorry- I ... ❞

How was he supposed to explain this one?

❝ You ... I thought you were someone else- an old companion of mine ... ❞

[snufkxn]

@weavebcund

Snufkin only had one roommate since he arrived to this new world, but he barely saw her , if at all. So when he returned from an errand of wanderings to get a refill of water; he was surprised to find a rather eccentric looking man in a purple robe. However, he just a let out a breath and offered the stranger a cup of tea.

He didn't mind making a bit of conversation, or answering a few questions while he took a break from his meanderings.

"Unfortunately, I don't know much about magic at all, really. I just wander here or there, hoping to find something interesting, or a way to explain all of this strangeness."

[refliction]

@weavebcund asked ; Well what would impress you, then?

"Anything else - I can't believe you can only cast mage hand. I miss when you had fireball, do you know that? Maybe this whole cooking thing would be easier if you could just douse it in spices and then blast it."

From across the way, he mimics an explosion motion with his hands. He's seated himself out of the kitchen and in the dining room, rather lazily watching as Gale goes about preparing something - seeing as it makes little difference to him, he hasn't asked. He doesn't see what use his current spell catalogue could have outside of grabbing spices just out of reach, so poking some fun seems appropriate. He does love playing the part of peanut gallery.

[isolaradiale]

all good! abilities have been amended with proper descriptions, let me know if there's anything else needed or if something needs fleshed out more! thanks much!

Welcome to scenic Isola Radiale, Gale!

You will be housed in CONDO 405.

You will retain the ability to use mage hand up to five times per day and will receive a wooden staff.

– mod pleiades.

[refliction]

He can't say he was thrilled when Gale picked the massive ice palace to get a good look in - it was already cold enough outside, wasn't it? It certainly feels like it. Any complaints quickly dissipates after they enter, quietly captivated by how intricate the whole place was. They're lucky to see it before someone came along and shattered the whole thing.

Once they discovered the ballroom, he hung back as Gale entered further. Typically he'd be able to see further into the darkness, but it.. isn't working out very well for him here; it's funny, maybe, that's he's anxious about what's in it, but not knowing had never been a problem before. The lights dancing off the ice's reflective surface accompanied by the musical notes don't reveal anything at least, putting his worries at ease. Some of them, anyways.

Some surprise is clear as Gale offers his hand, asking for a dance of all things. He isn't unfamiliar with them; he'd ghosted around the elaborate parties Cazador would sometimes throw at the estate, and before that he may have been invited to a few, considering his social standing. The latter he wouldn't remember the specifics of enough, and the former, well... he wasn't exactly being asked to dance then. This is the first in a long, long time. After a brief pause to stare, the offered hand is taken.

"Me? A dance? Why Gale, you flatter me - I'm hardly even dressed for the occasion. But I suppose if it reaches the Wizard of Waterdeeps standards for a magical ballroom, it'd be disappointing to miss out."

ARCHIMEDES WARD -> CRYSTAL FUNHOUSE

A palace made entirely of ice. More than just a novelty, it's downright majestic, if a bit showy - Gale spends quite a bit of time inspecting the craftsmanship of the sculptures, studying the architecture. But the grand, empty space of the ballroom - he only identities it as such after taking his first step onto its floor, illuminated by the light that rises as a note sounds out in time with his footsteps - now that's the real spectacle. He walks in a large circle, watching his feet, smile playing on his lips. Particularly complex? No. Worth further study for the amusement alone? Naturally. Gale has never been one to attend large parties, but he knows his way around a dance floor well enough.

"Care for a dance?" He offers a hand to one of the other individuals observing at the edge of the ballroom, gesturing with a tilt of his head towards the floor. "I assure you, it's much more impressive out there than over here."

[elfbear]

@weavebcund liked for a starter.

After the first few familiar faces he's run into , seeing Gale doesn't have the same " spark " , so to speak. Sure , he's still happy to see him , but it's not as relieving as the first two were. Instead , it leaves him with a growing dread. A seed of doubt planted deep within his mind that he won't be returning back to the shadow cursed lands anytime soon. That he will never be able to free them from their blight.

The thought is shaken from his head as he approaches where Gale is sat. ❛ I hope you won't mind some company. ❜ Halsin lowers himself onto the grass before even getting an answer , letting out a soft sigh. He tilts his head back , staring up at the cloudless sky. This place , no matter how beautiful it could be , it just wasn't right.

❛ I would ask you how you've been , but seeing as we've both been brought to this place , I think I know the answer. ❜

[enchiiridion]

@weavebcund <3'd!

They were sure they were going to dedicate an entire chapter to this place in their autobiography ( The Great Adventures of Volothamp Geddarm -- to be released posthumously, to have the most accurate and updated information ). Volo attempted to whistle for a while, in the middle of the park, to garner some coin. Perhaps if they saved enough from scratch, they would be able to buy their way out. Alas, they would discover shortly, that all currency was trapped in the little metal contraption they'd yet learnt to use.

They must be sure to save some coin for Tymora in offerings, though, for when they managed to make their way back to more familiar soil. They'd come upon yet another miracle since arriving on the island-- one of those adventurers that they'd become acquainted with! Elminster's prodigy-boy! Mystra's time-bomb! Oh, how relieved they were to finally be around someone who could cast a damn spell! "Well, if it isn't the famed Wizard of Waterdeep! Finally, someone on my level."

[viladlind]

sometimes fiyero thinks gale's wardrobe similar to the atmosphere of a bookstore. a bit dusty, perhaps, simplistic in its colours. but a certain quality to the leathers binding the pages, picked carefully and deliberately. you're not supposed to judge a book by its cover, but there's always a reason for its appearance, no?

   as much as the tiefling likes dressing herself, there's fun in adjusting to another's tastes. almost like a peek into their mind, their likes and dislikes. she couldn't imagine gale in one of her outfits, bold and revealing as they are. not that she would complain, though she can't help but think he'd have an air of discomfort and awkwardness around him the entire time. for once, it seems more appropriate to cover him up as he usually does, for him to truly shine.

   smoothing the fabric of the shirt against gale's chest, fiyero ponders on it for a moment. there's the tad of protectiveness in her intentions, she supposes. she knows how difficult it can be for astarion, has already gone through the song and dance of spending a night together only to realize they weren't on the same page afterwards. gale is, perhaps, the best of them he could be falling for. with a good head on his shoulders and realistic expectations, heard in the way he talks around what they both know.

   ' i don't think it has to be terribly poetic, you can leave that part to me. ' her being the bard, always quick to be overly romantic. ' what i had in mind is a more personal touch. '

   thinking for a moment, she takes out the thread and needle from the pack at her corset, starts working with the collar of the shirt. changing the neckline into something a bit more formed, less round. fiyero keeps her gaze pointedly to the task. ' it's your business either way, dearest. i'm just looking out for the both of you. it's my job. '

   and apart from that, it's what she wants to do. a hundred years spent dodging responsibility only to cling to it now that there's people depending on her. funny how that works.

   the more serious tone drifting from her words, she raises her eyebrows as she holds the shirt back up. ' i may have to start flirting with you in earnest, see where that leads you. what do you think about this? i like the stitchings on the sleeves. the way i pinned it, you can see the pattern around the neckline better. '

GALE HUMS AS THOUGH UNAWARE OF WHAT, exactly, Fiyero is asking, noncommittal and overly preoccupied with watching them rifle through hangers. On second thought, the question of his wardrobe is much simpler. "No, I'm afraid we may be in agreement, there," but the solution can't always be to buy more purple, he thinks. One must occasionally branch out into indigo. Maroon, if you're feeling bold. "It's the fabric, I think. Very... garish."

It's a delicate balance, finding something more well-suited to the fashions of this place while not abandoning the comforting familiarity of his attire from back home. He turns his back to comb through an adjacent rack, himself, running his fingers along the sleeves. Why is it all so shiny? If he wanted shiny, he'd simply wear more jewelry.

"If those are the options I'm given? Not hardly," Gale snorts, though the question itself gives him pause. Does he? He's not certain. Gale wants a great deal of things that he's reasonably sure Astarion does not. Something lasting, for one. The sort of thing one could write home to their mother about. Hypothetically speaking. Astarion would likely be ill at the very prospect. In the vampire's estimations Gale has only just barely been elevated above the status of any of the rest of them in the sense that whatever they're seeking from one another ( company, on Gale's part; on Astarion's, who knows, as the man keeps his cards very close to his chest ) is sought out on a semi-regular basis. Temporary as that may be.

It would be a silly thing to over-complicate matters. He turns back around only to patiently play the role of test subject while Fiyero makes their judgment call on the latest fashion prospect. Gale doesn't doubt they're much more suited to the task than he is. "I'm not sure that's necessary, in any case." An exercise in futility to dwell on the what-ifs, though Gale is guilty all the same.

"Think of how the others would feel if I started receiving differential treatment. And between you and I, Astarion's not much of a poet. I'd hate for the poor fellow to drive himself mad trying to come up with something unique." His eyes crinkle at the corners, teasing, which is much preferable to looking the part of a fool attempting to sincerely elaborate. What more can he say other than that's not what we have; that's not who Astarion is? "Handsome, though, now there's a fine start. You're quite good at this," that is, color-picking. Approvingly, he appraises the sleeve of their selection.

[grymfared]

❝ I have found it best to simply give a cat a rather mundane name- surely you must know that cats are more often than not sorcerers of great power. ❞

❝ To name them something grand may alter and ruin their natural magic- at least I have been told that by many a mage. Have you asked the cat if it already has a name? Perhaps that is the first step. ❞

"I'm not sure. What does he look like to you?" Gale tilts his head this way and that, eyeing the cat with scrutiny as he holds it in his arms, idly running a hand over its fur. "Othello, Holder of the Forbidden Tomes... or Norman?"

[wiseoldmage]

Elminster, contrary to the younger mage, almost *never* held to a routine. This land was a strange one, a new one, full of people and places that astounded and confused! Sure, he'd need to take many breaks to relieve his weary bones, but what was life if not constantly taking in the new and the unnatural? Speaking of unnatural, his emotions were anything but natural when he laid eyes on Gale of Waterdeep. Of course he was always pleased to see someone from his home realm, and even more delighted when that person was someone else so tethered to Mystra and her Weave. Yet, he needed to be practical- Mystra had not asked Elminster to materialize and speak to Gale only to regale stories and share bread, but to alleviate him of the stress of the catastrophic bomb buried within him... and now he was here. "My boy," El said as he wandered over, "You're looking fit as a fiddle in this orchestra of madness!" He no longer had a weathered staff to keep him boosted up with, but rather a simple cane, likely purchased from one of the many storefronts around. "I will temper your questions now, many as you have, and attempt to put the pieces of our situation together. The person you see before you is none other than the Sage of Shadowdale himself- no machinations are at play." "Now, it appears that even here, out in this land of endless stars and mystery, you have forgotten the lessons of conversation that we so plainly established with your earlier party! While I see that you have gifted the pavement with your drink, I am personally rather peckish- perhaps I can share what I know over a nice slice of bread with a bit of jam over it- I recently read the most interesting recipe concerning peanut butter, and a 'marshed mallow'..."

@wiseoldmage

GALE DROPS HIS COFFEE ENTIRELY WHEN HE SEES HIM.

He's grown quite fond of the streets of the Archimedes Ward, and of course as a man of particular ( and distinguished, naturally ) tastes it's only taken a few short weeks to consider himself rather qualified in the way of picking out the best of the area's many cafes. It's not quite a daily routine, but certainly routine enough, walking himself down in the mornings to sit with a book and think. His housing can feel crowded at times. It's nice to step out. Things are relatively quiet, early enough in the day.

And as the morning carries on, the streets wake up. The din of the crowd and the hustle of footsteps is soothing background noise, too, in its own way. Reminds him so terribly much of Waterdeep. And Gale is content with people-watching— to a point, of course, because the moment that bearded visage appears in his peripheral vision he leaps to his feet so suddenly that the mug slips from his hands and shatters.

"Elminster?"

He steps over the remains of the coffee cup, stunned, and wastes no time in shouldering through the crowd to get to him. Of all the people to see here - familiar faces, even, as more and more of them seem to appear - he never expected—

"How are you here? Why are you here?" The question is on the tip of his tongue - did Mystra send you? Is he here to fetch Gale? He very much doubts she would extend him that much of an olive branch, but then she did give him orders last time he and Elminster spoke ( it feels not very long ago at all ) and might be a little miffed that Gale is here, now, and therefore unable to carry them out. The wizard squints a little, leaning forward. Elminster is very good at what he does, but to one with enough experience there are some tells to every spell. The smell of the Weave, if nothing else. "Either you're getting sloppy or this isn't another simulacrum."

[swordsovereign]

The man at the door is rather sweet, isn't he? Coming to offer food to a neighbor. Not that Seofon couldn't cook, he could! After all, he'd learned from his parents, and he'd made money as a chef ⎛ and a tailor ⎠ before he really got the Eternals together.

❝ Gale, huh. I'm Seofon, it's lovely to meet you! ❞ And he's telling the truth, because Seofon's always been rather friendly- as best he could be. It was something about making bonds that made him feel ... a little closer to everyone else. A little more human ⎛ even as a human, he felt different, because he was different from other humans. Other humans didn't see the Sea of Stars, did they? ⎠

❝ Got a little too much there, is that it? Don't worry, I've been there plenty of times. I cooked for my team ... ❞ And boy, did he miss the Eternals, even though he had made some lovely bonds in Spirale ... but they were his family. Sometimes, he wondered where he'd be without them. No, he knew where he'd be. There was a nagging voice in his head that was ... exactly what he would've been.

❝ Got kidnapped? Yeah, that's basically what's happened to everyone here. I don't think anyone living around here in these apartments is actually from the city, but hopefully you're setting in well! ❞

❝ So, where did you come from, if you don't mind me asking? Also, what can I do for you to repay you for the soup? ❞

@swordsovereign

THIS IS NOT THE FIRST NEIGHBOR Gale has tried to pawn this soup off on. It isn't even the third. And it's not the soup itself that's the problem, - it's a perfectly fine soup, thank you, Gale's cooking prowess is far from rusty and at least three of them have already accepted a portion or two so it can't be wholly unappetizing - it's just the sheer volume of it.

What can he say? He's grown familiar with playing the role of camp cook. There are over half a dozen of them to serve, and some of the company they keep— well, the warriors in particular work up quite the appetite, that's all. It would not be entirely inaccurate to say that his kitchen is currently prepared to feed a small army.

So here he is going door to door with it. It's all very quaint. Neighborly. He's reminded of his mother and isn't sure what that says about him.

"Hello," he offers a wiggle of his fingers when the door swings open. He has this down to a script, now - he has to, there's dozens of bowls left to somehow dump. The last thing he needs is Astarion judging him when he comes over later and sees the state of his kitchen. That said, his smile is polite but sincere. "I'm Gale. Just moved in down the way. Got kidnapped," he amends, then shakes his head. "I'm sure you're familiar with the details." He holds out the covered bowl. "Soup?"

[corvisque]

zevran had been minding his own business. really, he had! very rarely does he ever go into a tavern with the intention of picking fights, nor of being part of them. it is not his fault when a fight erupts around him. granted, perhaps he could have kept his mouth shut and not commented on something one of the angry men had said, but he had been trying to wind down from a day of work and they had been so loud --

and so he is trying to duck his way out of the mess when he is forcibly ejected from the mess instead. so fast and so hard he might have lost his balance, too, were it not for the sudden steady hand that keeps him on his feet.

a sudden steady hand that happens to be attached to a rather handsome man, he notices.

the elf glances back behind himself. what had started as a disagreement between two men had now involved into a proper tavern brawl, with everything such a rowdy affair entails. the fact that not a soul seems particularly perturbed must be a testament to how often this same thing happens; and probably with the same customers, too.

he shrugs.

"by all means, if you wish to step in, do not let me stop you!" he, too, raises his voice to be heard over all the noise, wincing at the assault on his already sensitive ears. "but you would have better luck with a knife than without. i have one you may be borrow, if you'd like."

@corvisque

GALE DOES NOT SEE WHAT STARTS THE FIGHT, only hears it; the explosive outburst of furious voices, the shattering of glass and flurries of fists. Is it truly so difficult to find a moment's peace around here? How many abductions does one have to go through before they're granted just one quiet day?

Even Gale himself isn't yet certain if it's the exit or the scene of the crime he's heading for when he rises from his seat. The decision is made quite abruptly for him when an elf is all but flung out of the chaos - whether he was an inciting offender or merely caught up in the mess, he isn't sure, but Gale snags the fellow by the elbow to steady him either way. The ball of brawling limbs, he notes, does not so much as falter in its intensity. Are none of the other patrons going to put a stop to this? The bartender is even still pouring drinks!

"What in Mystra's name is going on here?" He feels bad for practically shouting in the elf's ear, but he can't even hear his own incredulous voice over the din of yelling. "Should we not intervene?"

[refliction]

Upon waking, a rush of irrational panic had coursed through him - had he been found, dragged away in the middle of the night back to Baldur's Gate, woefully unprepared? It was a.. perhaps not easy mistake to make, but one his mind had made at first, seeing a city of this magnitude. Seeing a strange.. he isn't even sure what to call it drive itself besides him and everyone else had quickly changed his mind, and the more he looked, the more he found that this place wasn't like anything he'd seen before. It put him on edge.

He'd had his objections about entering the provided vehicle, but once he'd spotted Gale across the way doing the same, an opportunity quickly arose in his mind. With a flash of teeth and a well placed threat, he'd persuaded the driver to follow with little complaints. Getting in and situating himself to look completely unbothered on the couch was another, mildly more difficult feat, but one he'd managed to accomplish all the same.

"Oh, no, I don't think I'll be living here. The driver wanted to take me somewhere else before I " convinced " him otherwise. I just thought it would be wise to keep ourselves together as much as we could - even if we seem to have a knack for getting kidnapped. I mean, twice in a few weeks!? You'd think we were going for a record!"

His composed demeanor falls apart somewhat at the tail end of it, but there was an effort. Besides, he feels oddly relieved that Gale is the one here, with him - he reasons that it's because he's already guaranteed his own safety with the man.

@refliction

GALE HAD NOTICED THE OTHER CARRIAGE TAILING HIS OWN and had thought nothing of it. The whole affair was strange and suspicious, the driver of the bizarre transport he'd been welcomed into ( though it hadn't felt as though there was much of a choice, really ) not entirely forthcoming when it came to all his prying. Being followed was the least of his worries, justified as it felt to be a tad bit paranoid, and anyhow for all he knew this was simply how business was carried out around here. Whatever business it happened to be.

He should have known better.

He scarcely gets a look at the spacious interior that lies behind the swung-open door before he spots the pale figure lounging on the couch, his presence entirely unsurprising. They had spotted one another on the platform they arrived at, though they'd not exactly had any time to converse. Gale should have figured his shadow was particularly sharp-toothed.

"Astarion." Seeing him the first time around had been pleasantly surprising ( Gale didn't relish being abducted anywhere, not a second time around, but better with company than on his lonesome ), but now he just feels weary, even if his tone remains light. Here they are again, then. A hand waves vaguely around the living room. "Don't tell me they've gone and stuck the both of us in here."

[viladlind]

scratch realizes it before fiyero does. which is impressive, considering the tadpole in her brain stirs a moment after the dog barks, her attention pulled from the store window she was peeking through. it's gale's voice, at last, that has her focus shift entirely, and her eyes widen as she spots the familiar frame of a wizard making his way through the crowd towards her.

   inaction is usually the furthest from her, but she stands still for a second as his voice washes over her. then, excitement and relief in her step, so palpable she almost can't breathe through it. she rushes towards gale, so many words on the tip of her tongue that she nearly doesn't manage to speak. when she does, it's with delight and affection, a disbelieving smile drawn around her lips. ' gale! '

   taloned hands find his own, reaching for them gingerly. a wizard's greatest treasure, his hands. she's seen them cast incredible spells, woven in magic and light and power, but her first memory of them will always be his introduction, his hand sticking through a purple portal, asking for help. they've come so far, since then.

   squeezing his hands in hers, scratch trots a circle around the two of them, forcing some space from any passerbys. her tail, too, whips behind her, unnoticed by fiyero herself. ' praise lathander, i wasn't sure if i'd ever see you again. are you alright? '

   it's habit, that. as one of the healers of their party, as leader of their party, it's her duty to make sure they remain as alright as possible, given the cirucmstances. circumstances she's not stopped worrying about since her arrival, given that she had no way of ensuring that her friends were getting by without her. her eyes track his face first, then the rest of his body, but he has no visible injuries.

   ' you seem alright. i don't have my healing here, but let me take a look at you later anyways. have you just arrived? '

@viladlind

AS FAR AS ABDUCTIONS GO, this one is undoubtedly scoring more points than the last time around.

For one, no tadpole ( no additional tadpole, that is, at least not one that Gale's aware of; the prior offender is in fact still there, which he is acutely aware of ). For two, the streets around his new housing are charming in that they almost remind him of Waterdeep, the buildings densely-packed and most of them housing shops. It's a shoddy replacement for home, but it shines in comparison to wandering the wilds or ( god forbid ) waking on some mind flayer ship a second time 'round. He spends more time than he'd care to admit merely wandering without any real purpose, soaking it in. It's all very invariant, marbled and blue and white, so much white.

Fiyero stands out. They often do - many of the places they encounter on their travels aren't quite so vibrant as their de facto leader, but here she is particularly noticeable, even from down the bustling road. For a moment he isn't certain ( though Astarion had arrived alongside him, he hadn't wanted to hold out hope that their entire ragtag group would be reunited ), but then Gale is rarely one to second-guess his own senses.

"Fiyero?" He feels only slightly bad for elbowing his way through the crowd, but densely packed as it is he hasn't got much of a choice. "Gond's gears, not you too. And here I'd hoped a propensity towards getting kidnapped was among my more unique talents."

[togabcy]

Octavius would never admit it , but he has made a major misjudgment when it comes to properly getting around Spirale by himself. The nature that the city is rich in has proven to be his most troublesome adversary ―― as it proves difficult to see above the grass. Or , in this case , the flowers he's found himself trying to traverse through.

Stopping to smell the roses is important , people say. But now he's certain that saying has absolutely no merit. Not only have these flowers stopped him for long enough , they don't even smell that good. And just as he thought it couldn't get any worse , he's suddenly plucked from where he was standing. Great. His dignity is in jeopardy and his day is ruined.

He tilts his head up to assess the man that so rudely grabbed him out of nowhere , arms crossing together. ❛ Where did I come from ? ❜ He asks with an indigntant scoff. ❛ That's what you say first instead of . . I don't know . . an apology ? ❜ Any other time , he probably would've thanked him for the impromptu rescue. But this blatant disrespect is something he could not stand for. So instead of being grateful that he's no longer having to wrestle with greenery , he doubles down on his annoyance. ❛ I was minding my own business before you - you snatched me out of nowhere with that hand of yours. Where did that come from ? Hm ? ❜

@togabcy

HAVING HIS AFFINITY FOR THE WEAVE STIFLED IN SUCH A MANNER is disconcerting, to say the least. To possess all the knowledge of a spell, to have all the means to cast it, and then find it fizzling out on your fingertips... to say Gale is displeased would be quite the understatement.

It hasn't been entirely taken from him. That's some small comfort. Though Mage Hand is neither the flashiest nor the most utilitarian of his spells, he wouldn't dare to complain about having been afforded this; and he refuses to let himself grow rusty ( what a harrowing thought ). The weather today is mild, nice enough to sit outside while keeping the mind sharp - between his light reading, he sends the spell out to fetch a thing or two. A shiny rock from across the street. The book he'd tossed carefully a couple feet away. He'd figured out quickly that he could only manage a few casts per day, so he's careful not to waste it, giving it just one more go as it retrieves a flower from a nearby hedge.

The flower is not all it brings. Gale at first takes it for a toy, one of those wooden soldiers children are so fond of playing with. But it moves— he gives it ( him? ) an perplexed look. "Where in the hells did you come from?"

[grymfared]

❝ I ... no, you don't have to pay me for anything- ❞ He's flustered, of course, but wouldn't anyone be? To be thrown into distant memories ... of a life that could never be- that was no fault of this man's. It was simply a side effect of being in love. Of never really coping with the loss of his other half. If he could have one more day with Rorek ... oh, but once again, that wasn't this man's fault. How could either of them known what would befall them?

He's offering you kindness, Mal. You shouldn't turn that down. Hells, you've been so grumpy since then! Raven had clearly made some sort of judgement of Gale, and from what it seemed, the tressym found him acceptable. Which was pretty good as far as tressym judgements went. Don't be shy, introduce yourself! Where have your manners gone?

❝ Raven must like you if she's making such an effort- ❞ Malchior can't help but laugh warmly, and really it does feel better to laugh then to mourn. Plus, he's alway enjoyed the company of wizards. Of course, that was most certainly a bias. ❝ I suppose it would be a good idea to spend some amount of time ... ❞

❝ So I don't put you in such a situation again. I promise this is not the usual reaction I have to meeting new people. My name is Malchior. I am a paladin from Baldur's Gate- and it seems I am quite far from home. ❞ But he's more than just a paladin. His dragon's blood is strong- he was born with the Weave in his bones and blood, a natural born sorcerer- a skilled wizard would easily be able to tell.

Raven blinked at Malchior, as if to tell him to say a little more. She remembered a time where Malchior would flaunt his dragon's heritage, where he'd show the dusting of scales across his cheeks. She remembered the era of Malchior the Magnificent, not just Malchior the paladin. Sometimes she missed seeing that pride in him. When had that gone away? Ultimately, she knew he wouldn't speak of it, unless it was asked of him. A pity. A dragon was a fine companion for a tressym.

❝ And you? You have the air of a talented wizard about you. May I ask your name? ❞

GALE IS GROWING ACCUSTOMED TO THE ODD LOOK OR TWO. His attire, he'd learned very quickly, isn't standard for the people of this city ( for the most part; what with so many of them being brought here from more familiar lands, he strangely enough feels less and less out of place ) and even if it were, the denizens here seem to have a way of sniffing out newcomers, so to speak. He must look like something of a tourist. The notion isn't appealing.

This, though, is new, the intent stare that drills into the back of his neck, focused enough to cause him to search the smattering of passersby. A noise draws his attention more readily to the source— there, the man with the cat; no, a tressym. Gale feels a lurching tug in his chest. He does miss Tara, terribly so.

Transfixed by the animal, it's a moment before his gaze wanders to the face of the stranger at her side, the stricken look on his face, the glimmer in his eyes. A flurry of emotions descends upon him, confusion and worry ( has he done something? Is the man hurt? Gale hasn't got a single healing spell in his repertoire ) before the other seems to come all at once to his senses, drawn back into reality from whatever moment he was just caught in. Understanding dawns, the wizard's brow furrowing.

"Appreciated," he lifts a hand, as though to ward off the apology, "but hardly necessary. And I am sorry." It's nothing he's done, he knows. Nothing he could prevent. Gale... he thinks he might respond similarly, in other circumstances. Has before. A glimpse of long hair, a scent on the wind. She would never be drawn to the places Gale has gone, lately, but the thought of a clandestine encounter does linger. The absence aches all the more at such reminders.

"Let me buy you something? I've taken your time," inadvertently, and hardly more than minutes, but it feels wrong to leave someone so distraught and then run off. "The least I could do is pay you for it." An arm sweeps out towards the street - there's a bookshop in the area he's been visiting far too often, cafes on most corners - before he then offers the tressym a small wave. Clever creatures, they are, and too dignified to accept an offered hand without first passing their own judgment on those before them. Or perhaps Tara is just particularly uppity ( whether Gale got that from her or vice versa is a matter of ongoing debate ).