aмelιa ღ ѕтeιnвecĸ (
recluserose) wrote in
sunfloras2024-11-22 08:40 pm
[His sudden return to the bloody patch of the Sword Coast that he and his companions had temporarily come to call home was a terribly rude awakening.
He had always thought, perhaps foolishly, that when his time came to check out of the hotel, when he had no choice but to return to Faerun to take care of those matters he had left untended, that he would at least have the opportunity to say goodbye, to reiterate that he had a plan. As it stood, he had been granted no such grace: rather than awakening in the room that he had altered to reflect his beloved tower, he found himself on the cold ground and looking up at convex ceiling of his tent, alone, his bedroll doing little to soften the stone beneath him. The bustling sounds of a morning at camp and the smell of the lower city told him precisely where he was.
Baldur's Gate.
His heart sinks. All at once, he recalls precisely what trials he faces here, in addition to what he had left behind. His own promise resonates, the assurance that he would find his way back to the woman he had come to love so deeply— a promise he has absolutely no intention of breaking.
First, he has to live— and for the first time since he had set out on this journey, he wants to.]
✨🌹
[The days following the defeat of the Netherbrain are surreal, to say the least. So much has happened in such a short time that Gale has been able to do little but focus on what's directly ahead of him, but not once has he forgotten his goal, his reason for wanting to make it through— once, he would have been at peace with allowing his death to mean something, but now he has higher goals, greater ambitions, and they do their part to help him pull through to the end. Their victory is hard-won and not without casualties— much of the city has suffered immensely, but it still stands and that is a greater relief than most are willing to admit.
The Crown of Karsus is returned to Mystra, the truth of its nature revealed. She offers forgiveness, or what she would consider to be such, and Gale's answer is no longer what he'd once thought it might be. What he had once thought to be love now rings terribly hollow, and he does not allow himself to be baited by the implication that he might be Chosen of Mystra once more— instead, he will walk a different path, though Mystra will never be able to cease hearing him when he calls upon the Weave. As a wizard, he remains as much in her service as any of his ilk, but as people, they have gone their separate ways.
The orb is removed from his chest, though its mark on him remains. He is still a long way from what had once been his full power, but given room to recover, he now has the opportunity to mend his relationship with the Weave itself, to restore that connection and become his old self again— or, perhaps, a new version of Gale entirely. No longer Gale of Waterdeep, wizard of great renown and scholar of considerable acclaim, but Gale Dekarios— a wizard and dedicated scholar of intentionally moderate renown, intent on dedicating his talents to serving the magical community in new ways.
Days turn into weeks, then months. When he is able, he dedicates his time to planar studies and the potential for traveling between worlds beyond the planar system itself. The potential is certainly there, but no spell has yet been developed, no method defined, and even Elminster has little to offer but encouragement.
"If anyone can manage it, my boy, I believe it would be you. You have always been meant for great things. I am glad to see you have gained the wisdom with which to temper that ambition of yours."
He and a few of his companions remain in Baldur's Gate to assist in rebuilding, in aiding the locals in recovering from all that the Chosen of the Dead Three had put them through, but every spare moment he has, his efforts are tireless. He uses every resource available to him, including spending long days within Ramazith Tower with the permission of its new master. He foregoes sleep more often than he ought, but the goal, he feels, is well worth it.
Whatever it takes, he is determined to find his way.]
✨🌹
[It's Rolan who brings the house out past the harbor to Gale's attention initially, his response being a puzzled furrow of the brow as he pauses in helping himself to a number of Ramazith's tomes to further his research. Though it is raised as an odd curiosity, it is agreed that it ought to be investigated, strange as it is— though the city has certainly seen stranger in recent months. Gale can only hope this might be the harmless kind of strange, but something in his gut tells him that he ought to have a look for himself before the Flaming Fist gets involved.
When he arrives at the harbor, across from the Water Queen's House, it appears that he isn't the only one whose attention had been drawn that way— Shadowheart is there before him, looking out to sea with her arms folded across her chest, frowning thoughtfully.
"Here I was about to go looking for you to see what you might make of this. I can't imagine Umberlee's followers will be content to let it remain undisturbed for long."]
Something tells me that we ought to take a look before they or the Flaming Fist get any ideas.
[The cleric chuffs softly, bracing a hand against her hip.
"I'll accompany you, if you like. I can't say I've ever seen a house like it."]
He had always thought, perhaps foolishly, that when his time came to check out of the hotel, when he had no choice but to return to Faerun to take care of those matters he had left untended, that he would at least have the opportunity to say goodbye, to reiterate that he had a plan. As it stood, he had been granted no such grace: rather than awakening in the room that he had altered to reflect his beloved tower, he found himself on the cold ground and looking up at convex ceiling of his tent, alone, his bedroll doing little to soften the stone beneath him. The bustling sounds of a morning at camp and the smell of the lower city told him precisely where he was.
Baldur's Gate.
His heart sinks. All at once, he recalls precisely what trials he faces here, in addition to what he had left behind. His own promise resonates, the assurance that he would find his way back to the woman he had come to love so deeply— a promise he has absolutely no intention of breaking.
First, he has to live— and for the first time since he had set out on this journey, he wants to.]
[The days following the defeat of the Netherbrain are surreal, to say the least. So much has happened in such a short time that Gale has been able to do little but focus on what's directly ahead of him, but not once has he forgotten his goal, his reason for wanting to make it through— once, he would have been at peace with allowing his death to mean something, but now he has higher goals, greater ambitions, and they do their part to help him pull through to the end. Their victory is hard-won and not without casualties— much of the city has suffered immensely, but it still stands and that is a greater relief than most are willing to admit.
The Crown of Karsus is returned to Mystra, the truth of its nature revealed. She offers forgiveness, or what she would consider to be such, and Gale's answer is no longer what he'd once thought it might be. What he had once thought to be love now rings terribly hollow, and he does not allow himself to be baited by the implication that he might be Chosen of Mystra once more— instead, he will walk a different path, though Mystra will never be able to cease hearing him when he calls upon the Weave. As a wizard, he remains as much in her service as any of his ilk, but as people, they have gone their separate ways.
The orb is removed from his chest, though its mark on him remains. He is still a long way from what had once been his full power, but given room to recover, he now has the opportunity to mend his relationship with the Weave itself, to restore that connection and become his old self again— or, perhaps, a new version of Gale entirely. No longer Gale of Waterdeep, wizard of great renown and scholar of considerable acclaim, but Gale Dekarios— a wizard and dedicated scholar of intentionally moderate renown, intent on dedicating his talents to serving the magical community in new ways.
Days turn into weeks, then months. When he is able, he dedicates his time to planar studies and the potential for traveling between worlds beyond the planar system itself. The potential is certainly there, but no spell has yet been developed, no method defined, and even Elminster has little to offer but encouragement.
"If anyone can manage it, my boy, I believe it would be you. You have always been meant for great things. I am glad to see you have gained the wisdom with which to temper that ambition of yours."
He and a few of his companions remain in Baldur's Gate to assist in rebuilding, in aiding the locals in recovering from all that the Chosen of the Dead Three had put them through, but every spare moment he has, his efforts are tireless. He uses every resource available to him, including spending long days within Ramazith Tower with the permission of its new master. He foregoes sleep more often than he ought, but the goal, he feels, is well worth it.
Whatever it takes, he is determined to find his way.]
[It's Rolan who brings the house out past the harbor to Gale's attention initially, his response being a puzzled furrow of the brow as he pauses in helping himself to a number of Ramazith's tomes to further his research. Though it is raised as an odd curiosity, it is agreed that it ought to be investigated, strange as it is— though the city has certainly seen stranger in recent months. Gale can only hope this might be the harmless kind of strange, but something in his gut tells him that he ought to have a look for himself before the Flaming Fist gets involved.
When he arrives at the harbor, across from the Water Queen's House, it appears that he isn't the only one whose attention had been drawn that way— Shadowheart is there before him, looking out to sea with her arms folded across her chest, frowning thoughtfully.
"Here I was about to go looking for you to see what you might make of this. I can't imagine Umberlee's followers will be content to let it remain undisturbed for long."]
Something tells me that we ought to take a look before they or the Flaming Fist get any ideas.
[The cleric chuffs softly, bracing a hand against her hip.
"I'll accompany you, if you like. I can't say I've ever seen a house like it."]
Edited 2024-12-18 05:10 (UTC)
[The appearance of an new island alone would have been enough to draw attention, however small it may be, but there is something about the house and garden resting atop it that strikes Gale as somehow familiar despite the fact that he knows for certain he has never seen either. It's something more than their appearance; a resonance of sorts, and the fact that he feels it from this distance speaks to its significance— all the more reason to investigate more closely.
He deploys a Mage Hand to start untying the ropes mooring the fishing boat he and Shadowheart have opted to 'borrow' while the cleric proceeds to loosen those at the back, both adventurers having securely lowered themselves from the docks without managing to draw attention to themselves. Though he doesn't expect trouble, he would prefer that they be able to set out without having to field any unnecessary questions, and in that respect, they seem to be quite fortunate.
They're hardly five meters out from the dock when something flying above them catches his eye; sunlight hits the colored glass as it approaches from the direction of the small island, the hue marking it as distinctly different from the seabirds circling the harbor, and the moment he catches a glimpse of the windchimes hanging from it, his breath catches, his grip against the stern of the boat tightening.
Could it be?
He wants to believe it, even if part of him is cautious of being too hopeful for fear of disappointment— that resonance, the nature of the scout that had been sent forth, the otherworldly design of the dwelling itself. It's enough to tell him that it truly could be, and by the gods, if anyone were going to be clever enough to manage this trick before he did—
He quickly looks back to his companion, his eyes bright with a wild, almost manic quality that Shadowheart has not had occasion to see in him for some time, and she raises an eyebrow coolly in question as he quickly gets to his feet, clearly calculating something in that head of his, the wheels turning rapidly as he sorts himself.]
Stay here— all of a sudden, I have a hunch as to what we might find up ahead. I'm going.
[He speaks quickly, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips, and the cleric furrows her brow, even if she trusts his judgment— mostly.
"Are you sure you should be running off alone? If you get yourself killed, at least Karlach and Wyll are going to be very disappointed."
He chuckles warmly, tracing the rune for flight in the air with a few precise flicks of his wrist before he gently pushes off from the boat by propping a boot against one of the planks that serves as a seat.]
If my hunch is correct, it's not a potential enemy we'll find there— quite the opposite!
He deploys a Mage Hand to start untying the ropes mooring the fishing boat he and Shadowheart have opted to 'borrow' while the cleric proceeds to loosen those at the back, both adventurers having securely lowered themselves from the docks without managing to draw attention to themselves. Though he doesn't expect trouble, he would prefer that they be able to set out without having to field any unnecessary questions, and in that respect, they seem to be quite fortunate.
They're hardly five meters out from the dock when something flying above them catches his eye; sunlight hits the colored glass as it approaches from the direction of the small island, the hue marking it as distinctly different from the seabirds circling the harbor, and the moment he catches a glimpse of the windchimes hanging from it, his breath catches, his grip against the stern of the boat tightening.
Could it be?
He wants to believe it, even if part of him is cautious of being too hopeful for fear of disappointment— that resonance, the nature of the scout that had been sent forth, the otherworldly design of the dwelling itself. It's enough to tell him that it truly could be, and by the gods, if anyone were going to be clever enough to manage this trick before he did—
He quickly looks back to his companion, his eyes bright with a wild, almost manic quality that Shadowheart has not had occasion to see in him for some time, and she raises an eyebrow coolly in question as he quickly gets to his feet, clearly calculating something in that head of his, the wheels turning rapidly as he sorts himself.]
Stay here— all of a sudden, I have a hunch as to what we might find up ahead. I'm going.
[He speaks quickly, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips, and the cleric furrows her brow, even if she trusts his judgment— mostly.
"Are you sure you should be running off alone? If you get yourself killed, at least Karlach and Wyll are going to be very disappointed."
He chuckles warmly, tracing the rune for flight in the air with a few precise flicks of his wrist before he gently pushes off from the boat by propping a boot against one of the planks that serves as a seat.]
If my hunch is correct, it's not a potential enemy we'll find there— quite the opposite!
[Even at a great distance, there is no mistaking her. A flash of brilliant red, the unmistakable ripple of magic that stands apart from the Weave and yet remains familiar to him, the arcane pulse that may well be the Emerald Witch's heartbeat.
She had done it. He had toiled for months, intent on finding his way back to her, and for perhaps the first time in his life, he is truly glad to have been shown up— he had never doubted her, not for a moment; his heart had always been equal parts brilliant and stubborn.
He races towards her, water rippling in his wake as his spell breaks the surface tension and he leaves his companion behind, no longer bearing thought for anything but the woman running across the water towards him— that he is still alive to see her again, that they have conquered the divide between worlds to see one another are both miracles in their own right, and nothing matters but reaching her.]
Amelia!
[She calls his name, and he pushes himself forward; nothing else registers and time itself feels suspended. He is near breathless, momentarily lost for words when he reaches her, extending a hand to catch her arm and pull her into a tight embrace, twining his arms around her and burying his face against her hair. His heart beats fit to burst out of his chest before it catches in his throat; he inhales the scent of her for the first time in months and slowly, steadily finds his voice, holding her against his chest as they both hover above the water, and a laugh escapes him, amazed and half-startled.]
I should have known you would be the one to crack it, my heart.
She had done it. He had toiled for months, intent on finding his way back to her, and for perhaps the first time in his life, he is truly glad to have been shown up— he had never doubted her, not for a moment; his heart had always been equal parts brilliant and stubborn.
He races towards her, water rippling in his wake as his spell breaks the surface tension and he leaves his companion behind, no longer bearing thought for anything but the woman running across the water towards him— that he is still alive to see her again, that they have conquered the divide between worlds to see one another are both miracles in their own right, and nothing matters but reaching her.]
Amelia!
[She calls his name, and he pushes himself forward; nothing else registers and time itself feels suspended. He is near breathless, momentarily lost for words when he reaches her, extending a hand to catch her arm and pull her into a tight embrace, twining his arms around her and burying his face against her hair. His heart beats fit to burst out of his chest before it catches in his throat; he inhales the scent of her for the first time in months and slowly, steadily finds his voice, holding her against his chest as they both hover above the water, and a laugh escapes him, amazed and half-startled.]
I should have known you would be the one to crack it, my heart.
[He laughs again as he turns his face into her touch; there is genuine joy there, but something else, as well— disbelief, perhaps, that this has truly come to pass, at all that had come before this.]
You almost were.
[There's a faint smile as he makes that particular confession, and his hold on her tightens just slightly, as though if he doesn't hold on tightly enough, she'll slip away as suddenly as she'd appeared— something he absolutely cannot risk, and the weight of his gaze as she meets it is broken only by the threat of tears that has begun.]
Then I remembered I had something to fight to live for— a promise to keep. This once, I am overjoyed to have been outdone.
[It didn't matter which of them found the other first, only that they had.]
You almost were.
[There's a faint smile as he makes that particular confession, and his hold on her tightens just slightly, as though if he doesn't hold on tightly enough, she'll slip away as suddenly as she'd appeared— something he absolutely cannot risk, and the weight of his gaze as she meets it is broken only by the threat of tears that has begun.]
Then I remembered I had something to fight to live for— a promise to keep. This once, I am overjoyed to have been outdone.
[It didn't matter which of them found the other first, only that they had.]
[His smile crooks fondly to one side as her thumb gently swipes away the tears that threaten to fall— she, too, had been his utmost priority, once he had been free to pursue it, and he can only pull her into another tight embrace for a moment, unable to truly express his gladness in words. It was not often that Gale of Waterdeep found himself unable to articulate something, but some moments were too big for even his vocabulary to sufficiently capture.]
If I weren't holding you right now, I would hardly believe it— even so, it almost feels too good to be true, but—
[She draws his attention to the boat he had left behind; he looks back just in time to see Shadowheart raise a hand to hail them, and he exhales another peal of awed laughter, shaking his head.]
You're quite right. We've much to talk about, and we would be better served by having our feet on dry land. [He turns just enough to gesture broadly towards the docks, his smile blooming wider.] Welcome, my love, to Baldur's Gate— the Sword Coast's 'Halfway to Everywhere.'
If I weren't holding you right now, I would hardly believe it— even so, it almost feels too good to be true, but—
[She draws his attention to the boat he had left behind; he looks back just in time to see Shadowheart raise a hand to hail them, and he exhales another peal of awed laughter, shaking his head.]
You're quite right. We've much to talk about, and we would be better served by having our feet on dry land. [He turns just enough to gesture broadly towards the docks, his smile blooming wider.] Welcome, my love, to Baldur's Gate— the Sword Coast's 'Halfway to Everywhere.'
[Shadowheart had been reasonably willing to accept the very vague explanation that Gale had offered her, during which he referenced earlier tales that she had been rather skeptical of at the time— but she seemed to deem it good enough for the time being, as well as the fact that the new structure out beyond the harbor wasn't an immediate danger. That would have to do. She makes an awkward introduction of her own, introvert that she is, and assists in getting all three of them back to the docks before she excuses herself, offering to go fill Jaheira in on the latest happenings so that Gale could focus on his guest.
Gale opts to save sightseeing for another time and leads Amelia through some of the broader, safer streets as they make their way towards Sorcerous Sundries and the tower above it. Rolan is, understandably, quite curious about this new development, despite his potentially off-putting manner, but accepts Gale's explanation that it's all to do with his recent subject of research. They'll have the tower to themselves for a time while Rolan focuses on his own work, though the place is so large that Gale has many times been able to make use of its extensive library without even crossing paths with its new master.
He chuckles softly as Amelia leans against one of the countless bookshelves, folding his arms in front of him as he looks on fondly.]
Take your ease, my heart. We'll not be bothered here, and it's been rather a busy day, crossing planes as you have. You must be thoroughly exhausted.
Gale opts to save sightseeing for another time and leads Amelia through some of the broader, safer streets as they make their way towards Sorcerous Sundries and the tower above it. Rolan is, understandably, quite curious about this new development, despite his potentially off-putting manner, but accepts Gale's explanation that it's all to do with his recent subject of research. They'll have the tower to themselves for a time while Rolan focuses on his own work, though the place is so large that Gale has many times been able to make use of its extensive library without even crossing paths with its new master.
He chuckles softly as Amelia leans against one of the countless bookshelves, folding his arms in front of him as he looks on fondly.]
Take your ease, my heart. We'll not be bothered here, and it's been rather a busy day, crossing planes as you have. You must be thoroughly exhausted.
I only wish I could have left you more, some way to be certain you would find your way here— but it is clear you hardly needed it.
[He steps forward, his arms dropping away from his chest so that he can take her hands in his own as he joins her, his dark gaze softened. It still feels so surreal, even with her hands in his, almost too good to be true— but this was what they had sworn to one another.]
I can still hardly believe—
[He cuts himself off with another soft, incredulous laugh, then takes her face between his hands as he exhales, tipping his head downwards to rest his brow against the top of her own.]
You truly are a wonder. I keep thinking I'll wake and find this all to be some incredible dream, but it's real. You're really here. Gods above, I missed you.
[At last, with the initial shock having eased and here away from prying eyes, he tips his head to gently press his lips to hers, the kiss soft and heartfelt, all the sweeter for all the time they've spent apart.]
[He steps forward, his arms dropping away from his chest so that he can take her hands in his own as he joins her, his dark gaze softened. It still feels so surreal, even with her hands in his, almost too good to be true— but this was what they had sworn to one another.]
I can still hardly believe—
[He cuts himself off with another soft, incredulous laugh, then takes her face between his hands as he exhales, tipping his head downwards to rest his brow against the top of her own.]
You truly are a wonder. I keep thinking I'll wake and find this all to be some incredible dream, but it's real. You're really here. Gods above, I missed you.
[At last, with the initial shock having eased and here away from prying eyes, he tips his head to gently press his lips to hers, the kiss soft and heartfelt, all the sweeter for all the time they've spent apart.]
Do I?
[His hands drop from her face to rest comfortably against her shoulders; truly, he feels lighter just having her here, the last missing piece having now fallen into place now that he was no longer staring death directly in the eye.]
I suppose I must. I've rid myself of an additional passenger, for one, and as for the orb...
[His smile softens into something bittersweet; he's nothing short of glad to be relieved of it, but he'll not soon forget the lesson it taught him regarding his own hubris.]
I don't feel quite myself again yet, but well on the way.
[His hands drop from her face to rest comfortably against her shoulders; truly, he feels lighter just having her here, the last missing piece having now fallen into place now that he was no longer staring death directly in the eye.]
I suppose I must. I've rid myself of an additional passenger, for one, and as for the orb...
[His smile softens into something bittersweet; he's nothing short of glad to be relieved of it, but he'll not soon forget the lesson it taught him regarding his own hubris.]
I don't feel quite myself again yet, but well on the way.
[The mark itself remains, though largely hidden beneath his robes, with its dark tendrils still faintly trailing up the side of his neck, but the power that had pulsed and roiled within him has certainly quieted. An echo of it yet remains; he had lived with that piece of the Karsite weave within him for so long that it had left traces behind. He could only hope that they would continue to fade with time as he went on to heal, but to say so aloud felt like something akin to greed. That he had lived to see it removed at all— that was miracle enough.
He turns his head into her touch, his lips ghosting against the ball of her thumb.]
In no small part thanks to you, in fact.
[She had eased his aches and pains during their time at the Hotel, helped him to find stability, but she had done far more than that. She served as a reminder of not only who he wished to get back to, but who he himself wanted to be. He might have made a different choice, otherwise— but remembering who he was when he was with her guided him to choose humility, instead.]
A great deal has happened, more than I can tell in a single afternoon, and much of it feels far too heavy to heap upon you when you've come such a long way— but the orb is truly gone, even if it's left me a little worse for wear in its wake. That I can stand here and tell you so for myself... I could ask for nothing better.
[It might have come down to him sacrificing himself of his own accord, not even because his goddess had wished it, if it meant stopping the Netherbrain.]
When I returned here, I was able to learn a great deal more about the orb itself— from a book found in the vaults of this very tower, in fact. If I were still the Gale of Waterdeep of two years past, I might have used what I learned to do something I now realize would have been incredibly foolish, but my time with you... it's done so much to help me in deciding who it is I wish to be.
He turns his head into her touch, his lips ghosting against the ball of her thumb.]
In no small part thanks to you, in fact.
[She had eased his aches and pains during their time at the Hotel, helped him to find stability, but she had done far more than that. She served as a reminder of not only who he wished to get back to, but who he himself wanted to be. He might have made a different choice, otherwise— but remembering who he was when he was with her guided him to choose humility, instead.]
A great deal has happened, more than I can tell in a single afternoon, and much of it feels far too heavy to heap upon you when you've come such a long way— but the orb is truly gone, even if it's left me a little worse for wear in its wake. That I can stand here and tell you so for myself... I could ask for nothing better.
[It might have come down to him sacrificing himself of his own accord, not even because his goddess had wished it, if it meant stopping the Netherbrain.]
When I returned here, I was able to learn a great deal more about the orb itself— from a book found in the vaults of this very tower, in fact. If I were still the Gale of Waterdeep of two years past, I might have used what I learned to do something I now realize would have been incredibly foolish, but my time with you... it's done so much to help me in deciding who it is I wish to be.
[He wraps his arms around her as though it were second nature; even after months apart, there is no denying how right being together feels, and he drops his chin to bury his face against her hair. Her voice is so small in that moment, smaller than he's ever heard it, but he feels emotion rise and catch in his throat as he pulls her against him just a little bit tighter.
She had been alone for so long... he truly could not bear the thought of leaving her to grieve him and find herself alone once more.]
You are more than worth living for— fighting to live for.
[He exhales, pressing a chaste kiss against the top of her head.]
If I have my way, you will never be made to feel alone again.
[They had decided to write their story to come together— their time apart had done nothing to shake his resolve on that front.]
She had been alone for so long... he truly could not bear the thought of leaving her to grieve him and find herself alone once more.]
You are more than worth living for— fighting to live for.
[He exhales, pressing a chaste kiss against the top of her head.]
If I have my way, you will never be made to feel alone again.
[They had decided to write their story to come together— their time apart had done nothing to shake his resolve on that front.]
[He exhales, his expression all warmth and affection as she loosens her hold, and he loosens his own only to take hold of her just beneath both shoulders and give a gentle squeeze of reassurance before she takes his hands a moment later.]
Of course. There's an alcove just past this stretch of shelves with a chaise I've fallen asleep on quite comfortably more than a few times while working— perhaps even a step up from a library sofa, though it was sorely lacking in your company.
[He can't help but make that playful remark, mirth in his gaze, and he gestures towards the next expanse of shelves and beyond.]
You'll not be bothered here. Later, we'll get you set up properly at the Elfsong, where I've been staying while in the city— something of a home away from home.
Of course. There's an alcove just past this stretch of shelves with a chaise I've fallen asleep on quite comfortably more than a few times while working— perhaps even a step up from a library sofa, though it was sorely lacking in your company.
[He can't help but make that playful remark, mirth in his gaze, and he gestures towards the next expanse of shelves and beyond.]
You'll not be bothered here. Later, we'll get you set up properly at the Elfsong, where I've been staying while in the city— something of a home away from home.
Has it?
[He reaches up to touch his own hair experimentally, though he's far more focused on how familiar and comforting it is to feel her run her fingers through it— there are countless ways in which he's missed her, more than even he has words for, but it's the little moments between them, the ease and the mundane that he had come to miss the most. He had become quite used to sharing his daily life with her; the absence of that left a hollow ache in its wake. Her own gaze softens and he feels a gentle squeeze in his chest.]
My mind has been decidedly elsewhere, I suppose, looking to move between planes— look at me, utterly hapless without you.
[He jokes, but there's genuine warmth there, as well.]
At this point, I'd not trust anyone else to trim it for me. It's a very good thing you're here; Tara is already on me about the beard as is.
[He reaches up to touch his own hair experimentally, though he's far more focused on how familiar and comforting it is to feel her run her fingers through it— there are countless ways in which he's missed her, more than even he has words for, but it's the little moments between them, the ease and the mundane that he had come to miss the most. He had become quite used to sharing his daily life with her; the absence of that left a hollow ache in its wake. Her own gaze softens and he feels a gentle squeeze in his chest.]
My mind has been decidedly elsewhere, I suppose, looking to move between planes— look at me, utterly hapless without you.
[He jokes, but there's genuine warmth there, as well.]
At this point, I'd not trust anyone else to trim it for me. It's a very good thing you're here; Tara is already on me about the beard as is.


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