Mm. Barely any persuasion was needed. He's probably a better man than all of us. Besides that- you'd think the puddle of magma it left behind would be an indicator that the event wasn't hellfire-related.
[He wouldn't like to assume, but Gale likely made that conclusion even without this confession, as well-versed in the arcane as he was. Still. His own eyes follow Gale's gaze to the tent in question, where... well. All damage had been adequately patched with the hide of some kind of monstrosity they had met on the road. The warlock in question sits outside his tent as he tended to most nights, deep in the act of penning his autobiography, glass in hand- articulating past exploits to himself as he scribbles them down.
As charming as the sight before him is (and oh, it is.) it is not quite as coveted as the sight of the wizard of Waterdeep. So. His gaze moves back to Gale accordingly.]
Is that so? I'd considered practicing waist-deep in the river. Yet then I consider the thought of something lightning-related happening.
[A brief laugh comes then, his eyes forming crescents just briefly. Because really. With wild magic? If you can't laugh about it, the only other recourse is crying. His quiet mirth is short-lived, however. He leans in close, his expression curious.]
The river is probably best avoided, just to be safe.
[Gale gives a soft laugh of his own, but he knows that the subject of wild magic is hardly a laughing matter in its own right— it's considered dangerous for good reason, and for someone as studied him, who has always put so much stock in control and being able to direct and conduct magic as though he were its master and not the other way around, the possibilities of just how many ways such things can go wrong (or right) seem endless.
Of course, he does know a little something about having something dangerous and unpredictable be a part of your person, but his situation was a consequence of his own action. Ara's power coursed through his very veins.
Gale leans in as well, his expression shifting slightly, as though about to invite Ara in on some great conspiracy.]
Right— the secret. I've set more than a few tents, books and robes on fire, myself. The latter got me scolded terribly.
[Gale knows quite a lot about the very real possibility of inexplicably blowing up, it cannot be denied. And perhaps that, at least on Ara's part, is what had made their initial friendship so fast. The surrender of relics to prevent it an absolute non-issue, even without the destruction of their immediate area playing a part in the decision.
Yet that was just a bridge. Something that spurred later discoveries- of Gale's wit, his charm, his intellect, as the wizard had opened up to him. But even more than that- his manner, and his way of going about things. Discoveries he has enjoyed very much, as it goes.
And as he bestows that little secret, the sorcerer cannot help but grin.]
Now you're just trying to make me feel better. You mentioned you were a prodigy! You likely came from the womb with at least two cantrips memorized. Unless...
[His tone turns somewhat playful. He was hardly the most insightful sort, so he could very well be making assumptions that simply weren't true. But...]
Unless you mean to tell me that said incinerations were not accidental. If so... Gale.
[A bright laugh then follows, and he takes some more wine.]
[He lets out another warm chuckle, pausing to drink from his own cup as he watches his companion over the rim, his own gaze alight with amusement and that mischievous twinkle he gets when in particularly good spirits. It's easy to find himself in those when Ara is around, he's noticed, and even moreso when he has the opportunity to chat with him like this, without interruption or any contributions from their companions— fond of them though he is.]
Some may have been intentional, but I'll have you know that I happened to set a perfectly innocent rosebush ablaze quite by accident, and it was quite the sobering experience. I've never been the same!
[He was, admittedly, eight at the time.]
I did get up to my share of shenanigans at Blackstaff, however. I've not always been so well-behaved as I am now.
[Oh, that twinkle in that eye. An, admittedly, quite rare sight to see (given the direness of their group's situation)- but one seen before. And something that, as it happened, the sorcerer found he enjoyed very much. It was something that beckoned beyond the order and logic that Gale's grasp of the Art- an extension of him- would proffer. Yet also something that completely veered from the quiet turmoil the orb inflicted upon him.
To Ara, that glance and the flash of mischief contained within was something that beckoned to the person inside. Beyond their field of expertise. Beyond their past and the circumstances that got him here. ...And he likes it. So much so, that he cannot help but allow the corners of his mouth to twitch upward, unbidden, as he leans forward.]
Vandalism! [Yes, maybe his voice had dropped to a suitably scandalized-sounding whisper. As if the wizard had confessed to something utterly heinious. Which he had not.] And you seemed such a respectable man!
[He cannot help but laugh. Do forgive him, Gale. For the context behind the admission- his age, the mental picture of such a small child sobbing at the thought of destroying something he had found so beautiful... is not there. And gods, if it was, it would elicit pity.
...Beside that pity, if he had known it was a fireball that did the job, the fact that a child could comprehend it, let alone bring a third-level spell to be, would make Gale's point of starting somewhere somewhat moot.]
I can do you one better. In my youth... I accidentally brought into being an infant abolith. ...It was not fun. Fortunately, its tentacles and telepathy were not properly developed. Yet that is where my fortune ended. Its teeth certainly were. Both rows.
[And yeah. He can only hope someone brought that thing down. Eventually. But. He raises his glass to properly toast the fallen.]
To rosebushes. ...And to Bitey. Gods, I hope it's gone.
[A glance follows. And another curl of his lips. Perhaps the wine had made him a little bold to openly ask, but... he's having fun.]
I'd like to hear of these shenanigans. The burned robes and books, I presume?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[He wouldn't like to assume, but Gale likely made that conclusion even without this confession, as well-versed in the arcane as he was. Still. His own eyes follow Gale's gaze to the tent in question, where... well. All damage had been adequately patched with the hide of some kind of monstrosity they had met on the road. The warlock in question sits outside his tent as he tended to most nights, deep in the act of penning his autobiography, glass in hand- articulating past exploits to himself as he scribbles them down.
As charming as the sight before him is (and oh, it is.) it is not quite as coveted as the sight of the wizard of Waterdeep. So. His gaze moves back to Gale accordingly.]
Is that so? I'd considered practicing waist-deep in the river. Yet then I consider the thought of something lightning-related happening.
[A brief laugh comes then, his eyes forming crescents just briefly. Because really. With wild magic? If you can't laugh about it, the only other recourse is crying. His quiet mirth is short-lived, however. He leans in close, his expression curious.]
I promise.
no subject
[Gale gives a soft laugh of his own, but he knows that the subject of wild magic is hardly a laughing matter in its own right— it's considered dangerous for good reason, and for someone as studied him, who has always put so much stock in control and being able to direct and conduct magic as though he were its master and not the other way around, the possibilities of just how many ways such things can go wrong (or right) seem endless.
Of course, he does know a little something about having something dangerous and unpredictable be a part of your person, but his situation was a consequence of his own action. Ara's power coursed through his very veins.
Gale leans in as well, his expression shifting slightly, as though about to invite Ara in on some great conspiracy.]
Right— the secret. I've set more than a few tents, books and robes on fire, myself. The latter got me scolded terribly.
no subject
Yet that was just a bridge. Something that spurred later discoveries- of Gale's wit, his charm, his intellect, as the wizard had opened up to him. But even more than that- his manner, and his way of going about things. Discoveries he has enjoyed very much, as it goes.
And as he bestows that little secret, the sorcerer cannot help but grin.]
Now you're just trying to make me feel better. You mentioned you were a prodigy! You likely came from the womb with at least two cantrips memorized. Unless...
[His tone turns somewhat playful. He was hardly the most insightful sort, so he could very well be making assumptions that simply weren't true. But...]
Unless you mean to tell me that said incinerations were not accidental. If so... Gale.
[A bright laugh then follows, and he takes some more wine.]
Tell me everything.
no subject
[He lets out another warm chuckle, pausing to drink from his own cup as he watches his companion over the rim, his own gaze alight with amusement and that mischievous twinkle he gets when in particularly good spirits. It's easy to find himself in those when Ara is around, he's noticed, and even moreso when he has the opportunity to chat with him like this, without interruption or any contributions from their companions— fond of them though he is.]
Some may have been intentional, but I'll have you know that I happened to set a perfectly innocent rosebush ablaze quite by accident, and it was quite the sobering experience. I've never been the same!
[He was, admittedly, eight at the time.]
I did get up to my share of shenanigans at Blackstaff, however. I've not always been so well-behaved as I am now.
no subject
To Ara, that glance and the flash of mischief contained within was something that beckoned to the person inside. Beyond their field of expertise. Beyond their past and the circumstances that got him here. ...And he likes it. So much so, that he cannot help but allow the corners of his mouth to twitch upward, unbidden, as he leans forward.]
Vandalism! [Yes, maybe his voice had dropped to a suitably scandalized-sounding whisper. As if the wizard had confessed to something utterly heinious. Which he had not.] And you seemed such a respectable man!
[He cannot help but laugh. Do forgive him, Gale. For the context behind the admission- his age, the mental picture of such a small child sobbing at the thought of destroying something he had found so beautiful... is not there. And gods, if it was, it would elicit pity.
...Beside that pity, if he had known it was a fireball that did the job, the fact that a child could comprehend it, let alone bring a third-level spell to be, would make Gale's point of starting somewhere somewhat moot.]
I can do you one better. In my youth... I accidentally brought into being an infant abolith. ...It was not fun. Fortunately, its tentacles and telepathy were not properly developed. Yet that is where my fortune ended. Its teeth certainly were. Both rows.
[And yeah. He can only hope someone brought that thing down. Eventually. But. He raises his glass to properly toast the fallen.]
To rosebushes. ...And to Bitey. Gods, I hope it's gone.
[A glance follows. And another curl of his lips. Perhaps the wine had made him a little bold to openly ask, but... he's having fun.]
I'd like to hear of these shenanigans. The burned robes and books, I presume?