Gale's hands had already been half-raised by the time the pale elf ordered for them to keep their distance— he glances between Dorothea and her assailant as he stills himself, setting his jaw unhappily. Rather a poor way for their already unfortunate venture to progress, but he won't have one of his new companions' throats slit as a result of his own impulse. Shadowheart seems to feel the same, her expression hard and irate as she lowers her mace.
Dorothea, as it turns out, is more than capable of aiding herself, though he doesn't much like the fact that she'd had to. Gale relaxes only slightly once she's back on her feet and there's distance between herself and the stranger, scowling in the elf's direction.
"Considering that I doubt your position is any better than any of ours, I'm not so sure you can afford to be making enemies at the moment." Gale recognizes the elf's accent, frowning. "I would expect someone born and bred in Baldurian high society would know better how to treat a lady."
Apologies aren't quite enough, but he supposes none of them are at their best at the moment. The wizard glances towards the opera singer, concerned.
"Are you alright?"
Meanwhile, Shadowheart seems to be looking the pale elf up and down, scrutinizing, her mouth set into a hard line. "If he's like us, then he could be of use."
Apologies aren't nearly enough, but again, Shadowheart is right. The elf was on the ship like them, was infected like them. If he has any even remotely useful skills, which it seems like he does, then having him in their party would benefit them all.
That doesn't mean Dorothea wants to be within arm's length of him. Instead, she moves to stand nearer to Gale, dusting herself off for the second time today. (She swears she's going to lose her cool if someone knocks her over a third time, intentionally or not.) Of all the people she could have encountered, it's a stroke of luck that Gale is among them. He, at least, is a known quantity to her, someone she can trust not to try and kill her.
"I'm fine," she assures him, feeling an odd sense of relief at the look of concern in his eyes. "Men have pulled knives on me before. The life of a diva is more dangerous than you might imagine." Hmm. Maybe that's not the most reassuring thing to say, but she only means to show she's not too shaken (even if she is, because only a deranged person wouldn't be on the edge right now). Clearing her throat, she gestures to the elf.
"I suppose introductions are in order. I'm Dorothea, and this is Gale and Shadowheart. We've decided to travel together to find a healer who can help us with our little unwanted guests."
"My name's Astarion, and you seem like a useful person to know. I was planning on going it alone, but maybe sticking with the herd isn't such a bad idea. All right--lead on."
And so their party acquires a fourth member, but the day isn't done surprising them. They find Lae'zel, trapped by a pair of agitated tieflings, and Dorothea manages to de-escalate the situation and send the tieflings on their way. Lae'zel is irritated it took so long and immediately insists on finding a Gith creche, but there is more still to be accomplished.
They end up raiding an old temple and meeting some undead being before finally making camp with what little they have. Dorothea gathers enough wood to burn through to the wee hours of the morning and lights a flame with a snap of her fingers, then sits down to warm her hands.
She feels bone weary, and wary, too, of many of her new companions in spite of the fact that they all share a common goal and a common enemy. She shudders at the thought of the creature in her skull and what it's doing to her at this very moment. It's repulsive--has all her life been for this? All the things she'd suffered, and for what? To be turned into a monster? At least she isn't leaving any family behind to mourn her.
She doesn't find herself alone by the fire for long. While some of the others have chosen to keep to themselves— Shadowheart in her distant corner of the camp, Lae'zel clear across it and sharpening the edges of her blade as she anxiously watches the others, Astarion helping himself to one of the bottles of wine they had uncovered earlier that day— Gale approaches the fire that's been lit with a full sack in one hand and a questionable-looking pot in the other, salvaged from the temple they had rummaged their way through earlier on.
He casts a glance in Dorothea's direction before he drops the bag beside one of the logs that had been set near the fire to serve as a seat, offering her a wry and weary but hopeful smile.
"Do you mind if I join you? I thought I might make us something to eat. I think I can put something halfway decent together with some of what we found in our travels."
It's a relief not to be alone, if she's honest. Out of all her companions, Gale is the one who makes her feel the most comfortable with his familiar presence, though she wouldn't admit that to him after having professed not to know him back by the nautiloid. It would be embarrassing to have to walk that back now, especially if she had to explain shy she'd say such a thing in the first place, and her day has been demoralizing enough without having to rehash her teenage infatuations.
That being said, she's long past that now. They can talk and act as peers, can't they? And yet there are some things magic alone can't accomplish.
"I can help you, if you like. Although I've been told that my cooking is... somewhat lackluster, I can chop ingredients just fine. What do you say?"
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Dorothea, as it turns out, is more than capable of aiding herself, though he doesn't much like the fact that she'd had to. Gale relaxes only slightly once she's back on her feet and there's distance between herself and the stranger, scowling in the elf's direction.
"Considering that I doubt your position is any better than any of ours, I'm not so sure you can afford to be making enemies at the moment." Gale recognizes the elf's accent, frowning. "I would expect someone born and bred in Baldurian high society would know better how to treat a lady."
Apologies aren't quite enough, but he supposes none of them are at their best at the moment. The wizard glances towards the opera singer, concerned.
"Are you alright?"
Meanwhile, Shadowheart seems to be looking the pale elf up and down, scrutinizing, her mouth set into a hard line. "If he's like us, then he could be of use."
no subject
That doesn't mean Dorothea wants to be within arm's length of him. Instead, she moves to stand nearer to Gale, dusting herself off for the second time today. (She swears she's going to lose her cool if someone knocks her over a third time, intentionally or not.) Of all the people she could have encountered, it's a stroke of luck that Gale is among them. He, at least, is a known quantity to her, someone she can trust not to try and kill her.
"I'm fine," she assures him, feeling an odd sense of relief at the look of concern in his eyes. "Men have pulled knives on me before. The life of a diva is more dangerous than you might imagine." Hmm. Maybe that's not the most reassuring thing to say, but she only means to show she's not too shaken (even if she is, because only a deranged person wouldn't be on the edge right now). Clearing her throat, she gestures to the elf.
"I suppose introductions are in order. I'm Dorothea, and this is Gale and Shadowheart. We've decided to travel together to find a healer who can help us with our little unwanted guests."
"My name's Astarion, and you seem like a useful person to know. I was planning on going it alone, but maybe sticking with the herd isn't such a bad idea. All right--lead on."
And so their party acquires a fourth member, but the day isn't done surprising them. They find Lae'zel, trapped by a pair of agitated tieflings, and Dorothea manages to de-escalate the situation and send the tieflings on their way. Lae'zel is irritated it took so long and immediately insists on finding a Gith creche, but there is more still to be accomplished.
They end up raiding an old temple and meeting some undead being before finally making camp with what little they have. Dorothea gathers enough wood to burn through to the wee hours of the morning and lights a flame with a snap of her fingers, then sits down to warm her hands.
She feels bone weary, and wary, too, of many of her new companions in spite of the fact that they all share a common goal and a common enemy. She shudders at the thought of the creature in her skull and what it's doing to her at this very moment. It's repulsive--has all her life been for this? All the things she'd suffered, and for what? To be turned into a monster? At least she isn't leaving any family behind to mourn her.
no subject
He casts a glance in Dorothea's direction before he drops the bag beside one of the logs that had been set near the fire to serve as a seat, offering her a wry and weary but hopeful smile.
"Do you mind if I join you? I thought I might make us something to eat. I think I can put something halfway decent together with some of what we found in our travels."
no subject
That being said, she's long past that now. They can talk and act as peers, can't they? And yet there are some things magic alone can't accomplish.
"I can help you, if you like. Although I've been told that my cooking is... somewhat lackluster, I can chop ingredients just fine. What do you say?"