[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.
[He laughs openly, ducking his head slightly and raising an arm as if to defend himself, but effectively does nothing to stop her assault. It's earned— to a degree.]
I hardly meant it to be rude. It's a trait we happen to share, if you'll recall, but I—
[He catches himself for a moment, clearing his throat before his smile turns just a touch sheepish, his mannerisms bright and boyish once more, but not so much that he averts his gaze. In fact, it remains fixed on her, fond.]
[This is... No, it's not bad, but in light of everything that's happened, Gale's remark has her on a different type of edge. There are times she doesn't notice or rather, chooses not to notice signs. Berna nas teased her for not immediately comprehending when anyone finds her pleasing despite or even because of her difficult traits.
Amelia wants to dismiss it.
But Gale's smile, the friendliness in his eyes that has been gained by her willingness to not turn away is making it harder.
She glances in the other direction.]
I thought that would have been the first warning sign that would give you pause, Gale.
Perhaps if I were a simpler sort of person, it might have been.
[He is many things, he knows, both good and ill, but he is not that. He watches her avert her gaze, and carefully tries to discern if it's because the affection is unwelcome, or if it's simply the result of her not being terribly used to letting people close to her. Even friendship, she'd told him, was a rarity.
He takes care to let his next statement remain somewhat more neutral, though the warmth hasn't left him.]
I think we've both proven that we're the sort of people who like a good challenge. Stubborn to the last. An unchallenged mind quickly grows quite dull.
[A whole year of isolation... She can understand that more than he realizes. In the years following her release from the Witch King, she too kept to herself only viewing people from afar to study the changing times and customs.
This isn't the time to bring that up. In fact, she hasn't shared much of herself at all while Gale had been more than willing to be vulnerable to her.]
... Thank you though. For telling me and showing me your burdens.
[He wouldn't have told her if he hadn't treasured their burgeoning relationship and if he didn't implicitly trust her to not say a word to anyone else. The significance of this is illuminating and humbling. Intimidating, especially in light of how she's kept so much to herself except for that memory fragment in the Vale.]
Even after all that happened and what you're expected to do, you've been very trusting. I haven't done much to earn that but I'm glad you consider me worthy of it.
That's reason enough for me. It may come as a surprise to you, but I've not had terribly many friends, either— at least not lately. Things were different in school, but afterwards, I became so consumed by my work, my ambitions... besides.
[He laughs softly, raising a hand to tap his finger against his temple.]
I like to think I have a good sense about people. I trust you.
It's a simple but profound decoration, enough to knock her out. She bows her head so that her hair drapes and covers the sides of her face so that he can't possibly see how red her face is turning.]
I don't—
["I don't deserve it," she wants to protest but she stops herself and just brings her knees to her chest to rest her forehead on them.
[His smile fades quickly as she turns away and ducks her head; even during the pocky incident, he doesn't recall her doing anything quite like this, though he's sure the fire of competition had something to do with it then.]
I apologize.
[His voice softens, though there's an uncertain note to his voice as he wonders just what it was he'd said that had struck poorly.]
[Her head moves up again and when she looks at the wizard... It's just unmistakably blushing. She quickly moves one hand up to cover some of her face, but it's no use.]
You didn't do anything. I just don't...
[Words are failing her. Her heart is beating. Amelia knows and is immensely touched by this amount of trust from Gale and it's even more overwhelming than any orb of destructive magic.]
Not what he expected, but he feels his own face color slightly in turn.]
I'm beginning to think you're not used to being offered your due of compliments. This, however, is simply the truth. In bits and pieces, you've seen some of the worst of me.
[The orb, the circumstances leading to it making its home within him, that memory in the Vale, even his pettiness at book club.]
Even so, you're still here, offering me your aid and understanding. If that is not worthy of trust, what is?
[One way or another, Amelia manages to calm down. Her hands busy themselves with her hair and what's left is a very awkward silence. It's just been so much and for a person who prides herself in thinking and acting quickly, she's so easily reduced to an insecure and embarrassed woman by this wizard.
Her behavior is puzzling and odd, she knows. And it's because of this and because of everything Gale's entrusted to her, she decides to share something that's like an explanation. ]
... My own teacher was... Well, he isn't human for one. I spent many years with him so I gradually became accustomed to his way with words. They weren't the most sincere.
I hope that might explain a few things about myself.
[He listens, giving a solemn nod as she offers her cautious explanation. So far, he has yet to ask her much about her life back home beyond what was on the surface— curious a creature though he is, when it comes to people's personal lives, he much prefers to let them open up and offer what they will in their own time. Not everyone is so forthcoming as him, and even taking that into consideration, it wasn't so long ago that he had been keeping a great deal about himself quite private until the time was right.
He has no interest in rushing Amelia along, but he is grateful to accept what she offers.]
I believe it does.
['Not human' could mean many things, just as it could back home, but from what little he does know about where she comes from, it still offers a bit of perspective.]
I, on the other hand, rarely say things I don't mean. I can see how that might be a bit much, when you're not used to someone so— genuine.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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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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I hardly meant it to be rude. It's a trait we happen to share, if you'll recall, but I—
[He catches himself for a moment, clearing his throat before his smile turns just a touch sheepish, his mannerisms bright and boyish once more, but not so much that he averts his gaze. In fact, it remains fixed on her, fond.]
Actually, I found it to be quite charming.
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Amelia wants to dismiss it.
But Gale's smile, the friendliness in his eyes that has been gained by her willingness to not turn away is making it harder.
She glances in the other direction.]
I thought that would have been the first warning sign that would give you pause, Gale.
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[He is many things, he knows, both good and ill, but he is not that. He watches her avert her gaze, and carefully tries to discern if it's because the affection is unwelcome, or if it's simply the result of her not being terribly used to letting people close to her. Even friendship, she'd told him, was a rarity.
He takes care to let his next statement remain somewhat more neutral, though the warmth hasn't left him.]
I think we've both proven that we're the sort of people who like a good challenge. Stubborn to the last. An unchallenged mind quickly grows quite dull.
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Mm. True.
As I have learned during this visitation, you are extremely and overly complex. No wonder you needed a vacation.
[got'im]
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Far moreso than I've been willing to admit, to others or myself. It's been a welcome reprieve, for a number of reasons.
[Yes, yes, she got'im.]
A year of self-imposed isolation didn't quite fit the bill. This place has room service, at the very least.
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This isn't the time to bring that up. In fact, she hasn't shared much of herself at all while Gale had been more than willing to be vulnerable to her.]
... Thank you though. For telling me and showing me your burdens.
[He wouldn't have told her if he hadn't treasured their burgeoning relationship and if he didn't implicitly trust her to not say a word to anyone else. The significance of this is illuminating and humbling. Intimidating, especially in light of how she's kept so much to herself except for that memory fragment in the Vale.]
Even after all that happened and what you're expected to do, you've been very trusting. I haven't done much to earn that but I'm glad you consider me worthy of it.
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[He answers her easily, matter-of-fact.]
That's reason enough for me. It may come as a surprise to you, but I've not had terribly many friends, either— at least not lately. Things were different in school, but afterwards, I became so consumed by my work, my ambitions... besides.
[He laughs softly, raising a hand to tap his finger against his temple.]
I like to think I have a good sense about people. I trust you.
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It's a simple but profound decoration, enough to knock her out. She bows her head so that her hair drapes and covers the sides of her face so that he can't possibly see how red her face is turning.]
I don't—
["I don't deserve it," she wants to protest but she stops herself and just brings her knees to her chest to rest her forehead on them.
Why is she so bad at this?]
That's too much.
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I apologize.
[His voice softens, though there's an uncertain note to his voice as he wonders just what it was he'd said that had struck poorly.]
I... I overstepped.
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[Her head moves up again and when she looks at the wizard... It's just unmistakably blushing. She quickly moves one hand up to cover some of her face, but it's no use.]
You didn't do anything. I just don't...
[Words are failing her. Her heart is beating. Amelia knows and is immensely touched by this amount of trust from Gale and it's even more overwhelming than any orb of destructive magic.]
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Not what he expected, but he feels his own face color slightly in turn.]
I'm beginning to think you're not used to being offered your due of compliments. This, however, is simply the truth. In bits and pieces, you've seen some of the worst of me.
[The orb, the circumstances leading to it making its home within him, that memory in the Vale, even his pettiness at book club.]
Even so, you're still here, offering me your aid and understanding. If that is not worthy of trust, what is?
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Her behavior is puzzling and odd, she knows. And it's because of this and because of everything Gale's entrusted to her, she decides to share something that's like an explanation. ]
... My own teacher was... Well, he isn't human for one. I spent many years with him so I gradually became accustomed to his way with words. They weren't the most sincere.
I hope that might explain a few things about myself.
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He has no interest in rushing Amelia along, but he is grateful to accept what she offers.]
I believe it does.
['Not human' could mean many things, just as it could back home, but from what little he does know about where she comes from, it still offers a bit of perspective.]
I, on the other hand, rarely say things I don't mean. I can see how that might be a bit much, when you're not used to someone so— genuine.
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