[Her gaze is focused on Gale as she listens to his explanation. It's easy enough to understand and there are more deities than just Mystra herself. But if she was the goddess of magic, the essence of it herself, she must be on another tier altogether. His duties as her Chosen weren't unlike what the witches and warlocks of her world were meant for. The preservation of balance and the strongest line of defense against outer forces who would invade the world; they were his creations, creatures of the highest caliber.
But they did not love him back. And it's hard to say if he actually "loved." From the sound of it, Mystra had a degree of affection for those who followed her, comprehensible even and Gale was involved with her in that manner.]
... So what happened? For you to fall out of favor with her, I mean.
[His expression has become somber now, though it's not quite anger, not quite resentment. Regret, certainly. He knows full well that he was responsible for his own fall from grace. Though time has begun to shift his perspective regarding the circumstances surrounding it, that much has not changed.]
I was too ambitious. In some ways, it can be a person's greatest strength. To never be satisfied with what you've accomplished, never be content with all you've managed to learn— surely, that is to be commended, yes? A desire to push forward, to become a better version of yourself.
[He shakes his head, pausing for a sip of his tea before setting the cup down.]
I had all anyone could want. I was revered among my fellow wizards, celebrated among academics. I had power that rivaled even that of my own mentor— Elminster Aumar, the greatest wizard who ever lived. I had the favor of the goddess of magic herself, shared her bed, and still I wanted more. I reached too far.
[He frowns slightly, his brow furrowing.]
I failed to learn from history itself, and thought that where my predecessors failed, surely I would succeed. I defied Mystra's wishes and used forbidden magic to retrieve a piece of her power, one that had been stolen from her previous incarnation, wishing to return it to her. It was meant to be a way to prove myself, that I was capable of yet more— a labor of love. As I'm sure you can guess, things did not go to plan.
Amelia sees a regretful Gale in front of her as he lists off all of what he had before. The admiration of his peers, mentoring from one of the greatest wizards, and the love of a goddess herself, never mind how messy that relationship sounded in her modern point of view. What surprises her the most out of all of that is how Gale readily admits how he wanted more, how those accolades weren't enough. His greed is similar to witches in her world.
What Amelia has learned over the years is that witches are greedy, helpful, yearning, and wanting. They wanted to grasp difficult and intangible things and it's such a strong, unreasonable drive that contributes to their unnatural lifespan.
But Gale's hubris circled back to something much more basic; he called it a labor of love and what could be more human than that?
She sips her tea, letting the heat and malty taste clarify her senses before she replies.]
It sounds as if you were well-intentioned.
[Though as they say, the road of good intentions leads to hell.]
How come you couldn't return that power to her? Were you mistaken about it somewhere along the way?
[He nods in agreement— yes, he certainly had been well-intentioned, even considering the pouting and pleading he had done with Mystra beforehand, practically begging to be allowed to cross the boundaries she had set for mortals, to see what wonders the Weave could yet offer. Well-intentioned. Certainly, in part... but he knows in his heart that part of his motive had been selfish. So it was, to be human.]
It was a display of raw power, presented as a romantic gesture. Between the two, I was certain she would at last deem me worthy to explore the Weave beyond what other mortals had been allowed to achieve, rather than continuing to tell me to be contented. I was terribly mistaken. When I obtained that shard of her power...
[He pauses, frowning slightly as he shakes his head, and he puts his hand over his own heart.]
You remember how this glowed, reacting to the touch of your own magic? That fragment of the Weave itself made its home in me— perhaps should have killed me outright, but it did not. It made me its vessel and hungered for more, demanding to be fed by potent magic, traces of the Weave itself. In my attempts to return a jewel to my goddess' crown, I instead found myself blighted by ancient magic so powerful that if it were ever to fully destabilize, it would level the entirety of Waterdeep itself, perhaps more. The result would be devastating.
[He sighs, his expression uncharacteristically grim. For the most part, Amelia has seen him to be someone who is usually in good spirits, optimistic, but it's safe to say that this is never far from his mind. It weighs on him, day in and day out.]
All this, even before the 'condition' I had mentioned to you before. At least that, should it progress, will only be my end. This... this is a problem I must solve before that time comes, if it does. I can grieve what I lost, but it was my own folly that cost me. What I will not abide is others paying the price for my foolishness.
[This wizard's burden was metaphorical and literal. When he puts his hand over his heart and explains the fragment of the Weave that lies within, her green eyes widen in realization at the enormity of it all. He's a ticking timebomb and there's his other condition... It's all so much, too much. Gale Dekarios is marked for death no matter where he turns.
A creeping uncertainty trickles into the back of her mind, an anxiety that she hadn't felt in quite some time.
(Someone's going to leave again, they'll be gone no matter what I do, it's not worth trying to hold on if it's going to make me...)
Amelia swallows it down and sets her teacup aside.]
Do you think when I cast that rune back then, that fragment within absorbed it? Or was it just a reaction?
[He shakes his head again in response, though her concern is certainly a reasonable one.]
I don't believe so, no— simply a reaction, as you said. The feeling when it does absorb something is very... unique, shall we say.
[Which is a gentle way of saying that it's incredibly painful, but he isn't telling her any of this tale to mine for sympathy. It is to be transparent, to be honest about who he really is. His mistakes, and their consequences. They are, first and foremost, friends. Even if he's become acutely aware of the fact that he would like to be more—
It would be unfair, to pursue any such thing without telling her the truth, bordering on unethical. It's a lot to ask anyone to bear, even a friend.]
I was granted one boon, not so long before coming here. Elminster found me at Mystra's behest, and made use of a charm to offer the orb stability, while charging me with a particular task. The orb will no longer erupt without my say so, as long as I still live. What may happen after, I cannot say. It is imperative to me to find a way to diffuse or remove it before my time comes.
[He glances at her, his gaze carefully guarded— unusual, for him— and curls both hands around his teacup. His turnover, for the moment, is forgotten.]
I'm sure you can see why I've fallen out of Mystra's favor, having defied her so. For a time, finding a way to redeem myself and earn a way back into her good graces was all I could think of— apart from keeping myself alive.
[The abruptness of her response is almost enough to startle him; he flinches, only slightly, but fixes his gaze on her instead of averting it. Clearly, it brings him no joy to continue on with this part.]
The Heart of the Absolute. It is the power at the very core of the crisis the Sword Coast is currently facing— the power that is responsible for the condition Astarion and I both suffer, along with our companions. Should the Absolute be allowed to continue to carry out its nefarious plans, the Sword Coast and beyond will be overrun with an Illithid army. It will change Faerun as we know it. The task I was given by Mystra, through my mentor, was to destroy it. It would mean sacrificing myself.
[He knows, of course, how that sounds, and he puts up a hand to stay any potential interruption.]
For some time, I was convinced I would do exactly that. It would save countless lives— and if I was dying anyway, better that it have meaning, serve a greater purpose. I was prepared to use the orb to bring an end to the Absolute itself, only when we found the heart, we discovered that it was being controlled by mortals through the use of a powerful ancient artifact. In that moment, I realized there could be another way— a better way. And—
[He pauses again, exhaling steadily.]
For the first time in a very long time, I would like to live.
[What is she supposed to do with this information? It's a flood full of devastating implications that flash across her face and eyes breaking down her levelheadedness. This shouldn't have to be her concern as it's literally worlds away where Gale and his companions have to face these series of personal trials. For the wizard the fact that his beloved goddess was telling him to give his very life for... It's nothing short of awful.
But it's been almost over a month since they've ended up in Hotel Caelum. Almost a month since she started to get to know these people and slowly started to open up her heart whether she was aware of it or not and...
I'm sorry. I realize this is a lot to lay on anyone.
[He doesn't expect her to say much. What is there to be said? He's hardly looking for sympathy, for pity, for someone to tell him that none of this was his own fault after all— he'd come to terms with that long ago.
But it was important to be honest. This was too much a part of him not to share, and Amelia had glimpsed more of who he was in his own world than most others had the opportunity to here.]
Your friendship has come to mean a great deal to me. I would certainly understand if you were to think less of me because of my foolishness, but I promise you, you are in no danger. As it stands, I am in control of the situation— as much as one can be.
I don't—Gale, I don't think lesser of you for any of that.
[Amelia lets out a frustrated sigh and runs one hand through her hair as she tries to process everything that he's revealed to her. More importantly, she's having to do the unwanted work of understanding why this is upsetting her so specifically even when he tries to reassure her.
Friendship. Yes, that's what this was between them (if there's more, the witch is still too reluctant to see it as such), a seed that was sown since the first day that they met and why Amelia eased into Gale's company more easily than others. And now she finally forces herself to confess internally that their friendship is why all of this is upsetting. Something new but good in her life had a looming chance of ending all too soon.
When she speaks up there's an attempt for a measured tone but there's a tenseness that holds back how she truly feels.]
Are you sure? Is there anything anyone could... Could I do something?
[Reckless? Yes, it is, especially since Amelia was the one who suggested different magic streams shouldn't be crossed so thoughtlessly.
She stands up, too riled up to sit still, and paces back and forth.]
Extraction, forced dormancy, pour that corruption into something else... Anything?
[It stirs something in him to see that she cares so much, that her usual calm and collected manner has been set aside in favor of pacing, listing off possible options. That she offers at all— it means a great deal, even if he fears it may amount to nothing.]
I admit that if anyone here could, it would likely be you, given your experience, but...
[He, too, gets to his feet, and when she paces back towards the table, he gently catches her by the wrist in hopes of getting her to stand still, just for a moment.]
Amelia. This is not your burden to bear. Extraction... that would be too great a risk to you, to everyone here. If you were to come to harm trying to help me, I wouldn't be able to bear it.
[The other options may have merit, but the sentiment remains the same. He doesn't want anyone else to come to harm.]
[When it comes down to it, Amelia, the Emerald Witch, cannot bear to suffer another loss in her life. To do so means failure, and failure of that magnitude weighs on her so much as a witch whose entire being meant to make the impossible, possible. What use is magic when it causes them so much misery?
Just as she's about to sink further into the dark rabbit hole of her thoughts and past experiences, Gale's hand upon her wrist stops her. She can't bear to look at him, not with the pain behind her eyes.]
... You can't just say that after you told me so much.
[There would have been more bite in her voice if not for the tiredness that colors it instead. Her hand is limp in his grasp but she doesn't pull away.]
... Gale? Maybe it's not so surprising but I don't have many friends. [Amelia swallows.]
Circumstances aside, I'm obstinate and ornery, and many things bother me, including other people and—
[She's not sure where she's going for this. Perhaps the underlying question she wants to ask him is "Why me?"]
—And when there's a problem in front of me, I have a bad habit of being unable to ignore it.
[For a moment, he only listens. When she's through, he nods, his careful hold on her wrist remaining.
She is, admittedly, all of the things she's listed. They're all qualities he's come to find endearing, even admirable, but as he's glimpsed bits and pieces of who she is beneath that careful, professional way she presents herself, he's reminded of what he'd said to her that first morning over breakfast.
It sounds like a very lonely way to live.
Though he may not know all of her reasoning, he knows her well enough to know by now that she's very cautious about who she lets in, who she calls friend.]
You're right. It's not my decision, however much I would hate to see you come to harm. It's yours. And if you're being kind enough to offer your aid—
[He catches himself, and gives another shake of his head as his voice falters slightly, tired. The affable wizard he's shown their fellow guests day in and day out almost seems a stranger in this moment, feels almost like a past life, an echo of who he was before all of this.]
It would be foolish of me to refuse it. I should consider myself so lucky to have so devoted a friend. But before you may any further decisions— you should know what you're dealing with in full. I will not blame you in the least if you change your mind, though I know you are not the kind to do so easily.
[Still holding her wrist, he goes down on one knee, guiding her hand towards his chest.]
[Amelia whips her head around to look at Gale as he guides her hand to him. For a moment it looks and feels like she's about to pull away but at the last second, it doesn't happen. Instead, she leans down so she's more at face-level with Gale. Her other hand grips her thigh as she Envisions a series of protection runes around her body.
Aside from that first time when her single magic rune caused a reaction, she doesn’t know what’s going to happen. Her hand makes contact with his chest. Now that they’re so close, the pulse in her wrist is more noticeable as is the trembling in her fingers. She makes it stop and then nods at Gale.]
Show me.
[What more could be said? They’re both in too deep to back out now.]
[He nods firmly, feeling the brief quickening of her pulse beneath his fingers before she wills it to steady.
There is nothing further to be said. He closes his eyes and focuses inward, on the power that has been eating away at his insides for the last year. Even now, stabilized by Elminster through Mystra's own grace, it is clear that its power is only barely contained, trapped in a delicate cage and threatening to tear through its very bars. The orb marking on his chest glows bright once more, much as it had in the corridor that day weeks earlier, snaking its way up the tendrils that curl along his neck— then glows brighter still, almost blindingly so, a light that seems a stark contrast to what lies within.
The feeling pulls at her, recognizing a life outside of its own host, and it is a gnawing, black, hungry thing. A gaping void that longs for more, refuses to be sated, beating against the inside of his chest as it longs to escape. It is starved, aching to consume, unquestionably destructive. Beneath the warmth of his chest there's the faint chill of something otherworldly, a necrotic energy that threatens to chill any who touch it down to their very bones, but there is one sensation that persists stronger than all others. That longing for more, that hunger, that wanting.
His eyes remain closed, but Gale grits his teeth as he feels the pain of his burden grow more pronounced, his shoulders and grip tense as he steels himself, forces himself to remain upright. It's felt worse in the past— but for awhile, this place has allowed him to feel almost normal again, despite the dull, gnawing ache that continually haunts him.]
[Amelia gasps as the orb glows, its light reflecting off of her glasses; the force is immediate but the runes that reinforce her arm glow and keep her steady and resist the pull.
But it barely protects her against the sinister chill beneath the surface. The sensation homes in on the witch and her magic, teething, knawing, wanting more. This would horrify anyone and truthfully the gravity of it all makes her grit her teeth. Instead of drawing back after the display of formidable, devastating power, Amelia drops to her knees, her palm continuing to press against the orb. How could she turn from Gale when he is showing her something that caused him such obvious pain?
The Emerald Witch is many things, but frightened and terrified in the face of deadly arcane forces? Over her dead body.]
Gale! [Her other hand cups his face. Smaller runes fly off of her fingertips and travel across his skin, down his neck and around the orb.]
[Her hand against his face draws him back to the present moment; he takes a deep, shuddering breath and swallows hard as the glow begins to subside, the worst of the pain along with it— but it's not only the calming of the orb itself that causes it to do so. He has always been able to sense the feel of another's magic, but Amelia's is unlike any he has ever encountered in Faerûn, cool and soothing and distinctly hers.
He catches a glimpse of the runes flying from her fingertips as he opens his eyes, but finds his gaze fixed on her instead, and where some people would have drawn back, staggered away in horror, she stands firm, stubborn, determined.
"I won't let it hurt anymore."
He finds himself equal parts touched and overwhelmed, and any words he might have had stick in his throat for a moment. He feels a surge of something else within his chest, something that has nothing to do with magic at all, and finds himself almost frightened by the impulse that threatens to overtake him then, to lean in and—
He swallows it down, shoves it aside, and exhales as he releases his hold on her wrist, worried that he might have gripped too hard while bracing himself.]
... thank you.
[For all the ways she chooses to describe herself, she is incredibly kind.]
You aren't hurt at all? I apologize, I— lost myself for a moment, I'm afraid.
[Amelia lets out a sigh of relief when the orb's light subsides. For a second his gaze connects with hers and there's a complex expression behind it. He's at a loss for words, maybe because of her recklessness and the foolish lack of fear at the disaster orb of magic? She's not certain and is more concerned with Gale's physical and mental state after releasing that energy in front of her.
Part of it, she realizes as releases her wrist, is that he really was afraid that she would reject and distance herself from him. Was he afraid of that happening if he told his other acquaintances in this hotel?]
I'm not hurt.
[It's true. There's too much adrenaline running through her as well as her reactive magic from the roots of her hair to the tips of her fingers to really register any pain. That or the orb did numb her but never mind the effects of it coming into contact with her magic.
Amelia uses her free hand to cup the other side of Gale's face. She's studying him carefully as they both settle down and she uses some of her fingers to brush some stray strands of his hair away from his eyes and behind his ears.]
And don't apologize to me. I'm not the one heaving and about to keel over.
[There it is, the return of her no-nonsense curtness.]
[There's a palpable air of relief when she confirms that she's unharmed— showing her had seemed the best way to grant her fuller understanding of the situation, but she's barely bat an eye, let alone pulled away. The way she's fussing over him is almost enough to make him forget any lingering pain entirely; it's unexpected, but certainly not unpleasant, and he swears he feels a flush creep into his cheeks as she tucks his hair back behind his ears.
Surely, she'll think nothing of it. A side-effect of the exertion he had just put himself through, if it shows at all.]
I'll be fine. I've had time to grow used to it, for better or worse. It's always been at its worst when needing to be fed, but the method I once used had lost effectiveness over time. It's stable enough, for the time being.
[He looks at her searchingly, both of them on their knees, his face still caught between her hands, and he carefully lifts his own again to lightly touch her forearm.]
What did you do? Whatever it was, I believe it helped.
[Her hands move away from his face, but she remains kneeling in front of him. As she starts to explain, one palm moves to touch his forehead as if to check for a fever.]
My magic and generally speaking, magic as a whole in my world operates as a language. Or rather, a series of intricate otherworldly languages, each serving a different purpose.
[She puts her palm down and rests both of her hands on her thighs, still examining other out there signs on Gale's person.]
What I applied are some passive runes that are used for calming, numbing, and serenity—anything that I Envisioned could lessen whatever you were feeling. Of course, you have the reins so it wouldn't have worked half as well without that factoring in.
... I don't think it's absorbed my runes yet. I felt its pull but it couldn't take anything from me. Probably because of the measures your mentor and Mystra took to keep it settled for now.
[He actually lets out a soft chuckle as she checks his brow and continues to inspect him, but rather insist that he's fine once more, he lets her do as she will until she's completely satisfied. It's an act that makes him feel significantly younger in a way he can't quite explain, but endearing in its own right. As she searches, she'll find nothing out of the ordinary; the marks on his face, neck and chest have ceased their glowing, and no harm seems to be done, despite the power of what she now knows to reside within his chest.]
Very quick and clever thinking, though I would expect nothing less from you. I'll say it once more—
[He meets her gaze again, holding it for a moment.]
Thank you. For your effort, of course, but not only that. As I'm sure you can imagine, not everyone would have handled what I shared with as much grace as you have.
[He has thanked her several times over the course of this tumultuous meeting, but it's that particular one that has her blinking and softening her expression.]
... You're welcome. I'm hardly the most graceful individual if past circumstances are any indication— [coughPockycough]
—But there are attempts. I've faced my fair share of arcane dangers in the past few decades so it's made me hardened for better or for worse.
[She's only shown him the smallest fraction of her power and what it's capable of, and told him little of herself beyond a broad overview of her responsibilities and what she does for a living, but like recognizes like— power recognizes power, and no one with such power is ever without their own share of challenges.]
Facing such obstacles is what makes us who we are— as you said, for better or for worse. Personally, I'm inclined to think in your case, it's for the better.
[Perhaps in his, as well, as he does his best to learn from his mistakes, but:]
You always refer to yourself as hardened or difficult, but I've only known you to be kind. Competitive, perhaps. [There's a faint twinkle in his eye as one corner of his mouth quirks upwards into a playful, if tired, smile.] I'll not forget that anytime soon.
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But they did not love him back. And it's hard to say if he actually "loved." From the sound of it, Mystra had a degree of affection for those who followed her, comprehensible even and Gale was involved with her in that manner.]
... So what happened? For you to fall out of favor with her, I mean.
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I was too ambitious. In some ways, it can be a person's greatest strength. To never be satisfied with what you've accomplished, never be content with all you've managed to learn— surely, that is to be commended, yes? A desire to push forward, to become a better version of yourself.
[He shakes his head, pausing for a sip of his tea before setting the cup down.]
I had all anyone could want. I was revered among my fellow wizards, celebrated among academics. I had power that rivaled even that of my own mentor— Elminster Aumar, the greatest wizard who ever lived. I had the favor of the goddess of magic herself, shared her bed, and still I wanted more. I reached too far.
[He frowns slightly, his brow furrowing.]
I failed to learn from history itself, and thought that where my predecessors failed, surely I would succeed. I defied Mystra's wishes and used forbidden magic to retrieve a piece of her power, one that had been stolen from her previous incarnation, wishing to return it to her. It was meant to be a way to prove myself, that I was capable of yet more— a labor of love. As I'm sure you can guess, things did not go to plan.
no subject
Amelia sees a regretful Gale in front of her as he lists off all of what he had before. The admiration of his peers, mentoring from one of the greatest wizards, and the love of a goddess herself, never mind how messy that relationship sounded in her modern point of view. What surprises her the most out of all of that is how Gale readily admits how he wanted more, how those accolades weren't enough. His greed is similar to witches in her world.
What Amelia has learned over the years is that witches are greedy, helpful, yearning, and wanting. They wanted to grasp difficult and intangible things and it's such a strong, unreasonable drive that contributes to their unnatural lifespan.
But Gale's hubris circled back to something much more basic; he called it a labor of love and what could be more human than that?
She sips her tea, letting the heat and malty taste clarify her senses before she replies.]
It sounds as if you were well-intentioned.
[Though as they say, the road of good intentions leads to hell.]
How come you couldn't return that power to her? Were you mistaken about it somewhere along the way?
no subject
It was a display of raw power, presented as a romantic gesture. Between the two, I was certain she would at last deem me worthy to explore the Weave beyond what other mortals had been allowed to achieve, rather than continuing to tell me to be contented. I was terribly mistaken. When I obtained that shard of her power...
[He pauses, frowning slightly as he shakes his head, and he puts his hand over his own heart.]
You remember how this glowed, reacting to the touch of your own magic? That fragment of the Weave itself made its home in me— perhaps should have killed me outright, but it did not. It made me its vessel and hungered for more, demanding to be fed by potent magic, traces of the Weave itself. In my attempts to return a jewel to my goddess' crown, I instead found myself blighted by ancient magic so powerful that if it were ever to fully destabilize, it would level the entirety of Waterdeep itself, perhaps more. The result would be devastating.
[He sighs, his expression uncharacteristically grim. For the most part, Amelia has seen him to be someone who is usually in good spirits, optimistic, but it's safe to say that this is never far from his mind. It weighs on him, day in and day out.]
All this, even before the 'condition' I had mentioned to you before. At least that, should it progress, will only be my end. This... this is a problem I must solve before that time comes, if it does. I can grieve what I lost, but it was my own folly that cost me. What I will not abide is others paying the price for my foolishness.
no subject
A creeping uncertainty trickles into the back of her mind, an anxiety that she hadn't felt in quite some time.
(Someone's going to leave again, they'll be gone no matter what I do, it's not worth trying to hold on if it's going to make me...)
Amelia swallows it down and sets her teacup aside.]
Do you think when I cast that rune back then, that fragment within absorbed it? Or was it just a reaction?
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I don't believe so, no— simply a reaction, as you said. The feeling when it does absorb something is very... unique, shall we say.
[Which is a gentle way of saying that it's incredibly painful, but he isn't telling her any of this tale to mine for sympathy. It is to be transparent, to be honest about who he really is. His mistakes, and their consequences. They are, first and foremost, friends. Even if he's become acutely aware of the fact that he would like to be more—
It would be unfair, to pursue any such thing without telling her the truth, bordering on unethical. It's a lot to ask anyone to bear, even a friend.]
I was granted one boon, not so long before coming here. Elminster found me at Mystra's behest, and made use of a charm to offer the orb stability, while charging me with a particular task. The orb will no longer erupt without my say so, as long as I still live. What may happen after, I cannot say. It is imperative to me to find a way to diffuse or remove it before my time comes.
[He glances at her, his gaze carefully guarded— unusual, for him— and curls both hands around his teacup. His turnover, for the moment, is forgotten.]
I'm sure you can see why I've fallen out of Mystra's favor, having defied her so. For a time, finding a way to redeem myself and earn a way back into her good graces was all I could think of— apart from keeping myself alive.
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Amelia abruptly stands up from her seat with her hands lying flat on the table.]
Gale, is there a reason why you would want to even make that thing blow up?
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The Heart of the Absolute. It is the power at the very core of the crisis the Sword Coast is currently facing— the power that is responsible for the condition Astarion and I both suffer, along with our companions. Should the Absolute be allowed to continue to carry out its nefarious plans, the Sword Coast and beyond will be overrun with an Illithid army. It will change Faerun as we know it. The task I was given by Mystra, through my mentor, was to destroy it. It would mean sacrificing myself.
[He knows, of course, how that sounds, and he puts up a hand to stay any potential interruption.]
For some time, I was convinced I would do exactly that. It would save countless lives— and if I was dying anyway, better that it have meaning, serve a greater purpose. I was prepared to use the orb to bring an end to the Absolute itself, only when we found the heart, we discovered that it was being controlled by mortals through the use of a powerful ancient artifact. In that moment, I realized there could be another way— a better way. And—
[He pauses again, exhaling steadily.]
For the first time in a very long time, I would like to live.
no subject
But it's been almost over a month since they've ended up in Hotel Caelum. Almost a month since she started to get to know these people and slowly started to open up her heart whether she was aware of it or not and...
Was any of this worth it?
The witch sits back down, stunned.]
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[He doesn't expect her to say much. What is there to be said? He's hardly looking for sympathy, for pity, for someone to tell him that none of this was his own fault after all— he'd come to terms with that long ago.
But it was important to be honest. This was too much a part of him not to share, and Amelia had glimpsed more of who he was in his own world than most others had the opportunity to here.]
Your friendship has come to mean a great deal to me. I would certainly understand if you were to think less of me because of my foolishness, but I promise you, you are in no danger. As it stands, I am in control of the situation— as much as one can be.
no subject
[Amelia lets out a frustrated sigh and runs one hand through her hair as she tries to process everything that he's revealed to her. More importantly, she's having to do the unwanted work of understanding why this is upsetting her so specifically even when he tries to reassure her.
Friendship. Yes, that's what this was between them (if there's more, the witch is still too reluctant to see it as such), a seed that was sown since the first day that they met and why Amelia eased into Gale's company more easily than others. And now she finally forces herself to confess internally that their friendship is why all of this is upsetting. Something new but good in her life had a looming chance of ending all too soon.
When she speaks up there's an attempt for a measured tone but there's a tenseness that holds back how she truly feels.]
Are you sure? Is there anything anyone could... Could I do something?
[Reckless? Yes, it is, especially since Amelia was the one who suggested different magic streams shouldn't be crossed so thoughtlessly.
She stands up, too riled up to sit still, and paces back and forth.]
Extraction, forced dormancy, pour that corruption into something else... Anything?
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I admit that if anyone here could, it would likely be you, given your experience, but...
[He, too, gets to his feet, and when she paces back towards the table, he gently catches her by the wrist in hopes of getting her to stand still, just for a moment.]
Amelia. This is not your burden to bear. Extraction... that would be too great a risk to you, to everyone here. If you were to come to harm trying to help me, I wouldn't be able to bear it.
[The other options may have merit, but the sentiment remains the same. He doesn't want anyone else to come to harm.]
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Just as she's about to sink further into the dark rabbit hole of her thoughts and past experiences, Gale's hand upon her wrist stops her. She can't bear to look at him, not with the pain behind her eyes.]
... You can't just say that after you told me so much.
[There would have been more bite in her voice if not for the tiredness that colors it instead. Her hand is limp in his grasp but she doesn't pull away.]
... Gale? Maybe it's not so surprising but I don't have many friends. [Amelia swallows.]
Circumstances aside, I'm obstinate and ornery, and many things bother me, including other people and—
[She's not sure where she's going for this. Perhaps the underlying question she wants to ask him is "Why me?"]
—And when there's a problem in front of me, I have a bad habit of being unable to ignore it.
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She is, admittedly, all of the things she's listed. They're all qualities he's come to find endearing, even admirable, but as he's glimpsed bits and pieces of who she is beneath that careful, professional way she presents herself, he's reminded of what he'd said to her that first morning over breakfast.
It sounds like a very lonely way to live.
Though he may not know all of her reasoning, he knows her well enough to know by now that she's very cautious about who she lets in, who she calls friend.]
You're right. It's not my decision, however much I would hate to see you come to harm. It's yours. And if you're being kind enough to offer your aid—
[He catches himself, and gives another shake of his head as his voice falters slightly, tired. The affable wizard he's shown their fellow guests day in and day out almost seems a stranger in this moment, feels almost like a past life, an echo of who he was before all of this.]
It would be foolish of me to refuse it. I should consider myself so lucky to have so devoted a friend. But before you may any further decisions— you should know what you're dealing with in full. I will not blame you in the least if you change your mind, though I know you are not the kind to do so easily.
[Still holding her wrist, he goes down on one knee, guiding her hand towards his chest.]
Place your hand over my heart.
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second, it doesn't happen. Instead, she leans down so she's more at face-level with Gale. Her other hand grips her thigh as she Envisions a series of protection runes around her body.
Aside from that first time when her single magic rune caused a reaction, she doesn’t know what’s going to happen. Her hand makes contact with his chest. Now that they’re so close, the pulse in her wrist is more noticeable as is the trembling in her fingers. She makes it stop and then nods at Gale.]
Show me.
[What more could be said? They’re both in too deep to back out now.]
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There is nothing further to be said. He closes his eyes and focuses inward, on the power that has been eating away at his insides for the last year. Even now, stabilized by Elminster through Mystra's own grace, it is clear that its power is only barely contained, trapped in a delicate cage and threatening to tear through its very bars. The orb marking on his chest glows bright once more, much as it had in the corridor that day weeks earlier, snaking its way up the tendrils that curl along his neck— then glows brighter still, almost blindingly so, a light that seems a stark contrast to what lies within.
The feeling pulls at her, recognizing a life outside of its own host, and it is a gnawing, black, hungry thing. A gaping void that longs for more, refuses to be sated, beating against the inside of his chest as it longs to escape. It is starved, aching to consume, unquestionably destructive. Beneath the warmth of his chest there's the faint chill of something otherworldly, a necrotic energy that threatens to chill any who touch it down to their very bones, but there is one sensation that persists stronger than all others. That longing for more, that hunger, that wanting.
His eyes remain closed, but Gale grits his teeth as he feels the pain of his burden grow more pronounced, his shoulders and grip tense as he steels himself, forces himself to remain upright. It's felt worse in the past— but for awhile, this place has allowed him to feel almost normal again, despite the dull, gnawing ache that continually haunts him.]
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But it barely protects her against the sinister chill beneath the surface. The sensation homes in on the witch and her magic, teething, knawing, wanting more. This would horrify anyone and truthfully the gravity of it all makes her grit her teeth. Instead of drawing back after the display of formidable, devastating power, Amelia drops to her knees, her palm continuing to press against the orb. How could she turn from Gale when he is showing her something that caused him such obvious pain?
The Emerald Witch is many things, but frightened and terrified in the face of deadly arcane forces? Over her dead body.]
Gale! [Her other hand cups his face. Smaller runes fly off of her fingertips and travel across his skin, down his neck and around the orb.]
Gale, that's enough. I won't let it hurt anymore.
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He catches a glimpse of the runes flying from her fingertips as he opens his eyes, but finds his gaze fixed on her instead, and where some people would have drawn back, staggered away in horror, she stands firm, stubborn, determined.
"I won't let it hurt anymore."
He finds himself equal parts touched and overwhelmed, and any words he might have had stick in his throat for a moment. He feels a surge of something else within his chest, something that has nothing to do with magic at all, and finds himself almost frightened by the impulse that threatens to overtake him then, to lean in and—
He swallows it down, shoves it aside, and exhales as he releases his hold on her wrist, worried that he might have gripped too hard while bracing himself.]
... thank you.
[For all the ways she chooses to describe herself, she is incredibly kind.]
You aren't hurt at all? I apologize, I— lost myself for a moment, I'm afraid.
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Part of it, she realizes as releases her wrist, is that he really was afraid that she would reject and distance herself from him. Was he afraid of that happening if he told his other acquaintances in this hotel?]
I'm not hurt.
[It's true. There's too much adrenaline running through her as well as her reactive magic from the roots of her hair to the tips of her fingers to really register any pain. That or the orb did numb her but never mind the effects of it coming into contact with her magic.
Amelia uses her free hand to cup the other side of Gale's face. She's studying him carefully as they both settle down and she uses some of her fingers to brush some stray strands of his hair away from his eyes and behind his ears.]
And don't apologize to me. I'm not the one heaving and about to keel over.
[There it is, the return of her no-nonsense curtness.]
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Surely, she'll think nothing of it. A side-effect of the exertion he had just put himself through, if it shows at all.]
I'll be fine. I've had time to grow used to it, for better or worse. It's always been at its worst when needing to be fed, but the method I once used had lost effectiveness over time. It's stable enough, for the time being.
[He looks at her searchingly, both of them on their knees, his face still caught between her hands, and he carefully lifts his own again to lightly touch her forearm.]
What did you do? Whatever it was, I believe it helped.
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My magic and generally speaking, magic as a whole in my world operates as a language. Or rather, a series of intricate otherworldly languages, each serving a different purpose.
[She puts her palm down and rests both of her hands on her thighs, still examining other out there signs on Gale's person.]
What I applied are some passive runes that are used for calming, numbing, and serenity—anything that I Envisioned could lessen whatever you were feeling. Of course, you have the reins so it wouldn't have worked half as well without that factoring in.
... I don't think it's absorbed my runes yet. I felt its pull but it couldn't take anything from me. Probably because of the measures your mentor and Mystra took to keep it settled for now.
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Very quick and clever thinking, though I would expect nothing less from you. I'll say it once more—
[He meets her gaze again, holding it for a moment.]
Thank you. For your effort, of course, but not only that. As I'm sure you can imagine, not everyone would have handled what I shared with as much grace as you have.
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... You're welcome. I'm hardly the most graceful individual if past circumstances are any indication— [coughPockycough]
—But there are attempts. I've faced my fair share of arcane dangers in the past few decades so it's made me hardened for better or for worse.
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[She's only shown him the smallest fraction of her power and what it's capable of, and told him little of herself beyond a broad overview of her responsibilities and what she does for a living, but like recognizes like— power recognizes power, and no one with such power is ever without their own share of challenges.]
Facing such obstacles is what makes us who we are— as you said, for better or for worse. Personally, I'm inclined to think in your case, it's for the better.
[Perhaps in his, as well, as he does his best to learn from his mistakes, but:]
You always refer to yourself as hardened or difficult, but I've only known you to be kind. Competitive, perhaps. [There's a faint twinkle in his eye as one corner of his mouth quirks upwards into a playful, if tired, smile.] I'll not forget that anytime soon.
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When Gale makes mention of her being competitive over that, well.
She suddenly reaches over to ruffle and muss up his hair in retaliation.]
Don't be rude.
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