[The next time they camp comes soon enough, as it always does; they're all tired, dusty and road-weary, but even so, Gale finds himself in high spirits. He's come to enjoy their little camp community, such as it is, and the promise of company has been something he's been looking forward to, just as he'd said. Tonight, there's an extra stool seated by the table he keeps a number of his scrolls and books laid out on, as well as an additional lamp set out— lit with a soft, inviting glow that's quite plainly provided by magic rather than practical flame.
When Ara arrives, he'll find Gale scribbling notes to himself in a leatherbound journal, largely reflecting on the day's events; he looks up at the sound of footsteps and offers a warm smile in greeting.]
[Tired, dusty, and most certainly weary, yes. As with all days, today had been a taxing one. But there's a warmth to the camp that soothes the soul. Be it the way of which Scratch bounds toward every single one of them in sheer delight and Astarion's (awful) attempt to act like he's ignoring him, the distant scrape of Lae'zel resharpening her equipment, the musing of a distant Wyll mid-penning his memoirs, or even Karlach and Shadowheart on the hunt for a few wine bottles, there's an easy atmosphere to the encampment that just... feels right. Even the presence of their resident lich is something that sets his heart at ease.
At ease as it is, his heart is still somewhat excited. For him, as a sorcerer- gifted with magic yet knowing absolutely nothing about it save for how to make it happen and how to improvise when it went wrong, the opportunity to learn was something worth excitement. To learn from Gale- who seemed like he didn't mind going through concepts that were likely quite rudimentary to him, who had the patience to lay things out in ways he understood, and never, ever shied away from answering questions- highly so.
And it shows in his tone. Admittedly, he's far more weary than hyped. That should be plain to see. But there's a warmth to the half-elf's words, something fond. And happily, he takes the extra stool. ]
So. About that tome of fire...
[It would be plain to see. He had questions. A great amount of them.]
apologies, I perished this month!! no worries if this is too old
[His smile pulls just a touch wider; the wizard tips his head and gestures broadly to the seat beside his even as the elf settles in.]
Yes, yes! Make yourself comfortable. I'm sure you're just burning with questions.
[Tome of fire, burning— he's very carefully walking that fine line between charming and groan-worthy, he's sure, but he can't help but be in high spirits. Ara's company is always more than welcome, and he can't pretend he doesn't enjoy having someone who doesn't just tolerate his enthusiastic prattling, but actually likes it, engages with it.]
I've some wine set aside, if you intend to stay awhile and would care for something to drink.
[Hardly an unusual offer, he knows; most of them keep a bottle of something they're fond of on hand if they can manage it, and much like a good book, wine is to be enjoyed.]
[Oh gods, that particular line about burning is... well. Somewhat painful enough to elicit a small wince. But it is a strange thing. Gale's affable nature and (yes) his charming personality made him not think too poorly of him for the quip. The very fact that it came from this man turns the groan that would have made its way out of his throat into a small "heh" of acknowledgement. As for the wine? Perfect. He intended to stay for quite a while, while he went about the task of picking the wizard's brain.
...Long enough, likely, for the aforementioned wizard to want to toss him out. But. He had quite a while until that happened. So. As he crosses a leg underneath himself...]
Thank you, by the way. I imagine reiterating concepts you likely learned as a child isn't the best use of your time.
[He's come to accept that his friend is likely humoring him whenever he gets even a half-chortle for one of his quips, but he can't help giving a smile as he proceeds to pour two glasses, expertly passing one his companion's way once he has, giving a faint shake of his head.]
Nonsense— you've no need to thank me. There's always something to be gained by revisiting nearly any subject, especially in such good company.
[That part matters far more to him— but he's always been the type to want to share knowledge, not think less of others for wanting to learn.]
[Humor, yes. Mostly. There were many aspects to Gale that were incorrigible. His charm, in particular? It's up there. To the point that such quips, (even the ones that should elicit groans) never failed to garner favorable responses. As for what is said next? A statement very charming indeed, even without his bias?
Well. It should be plain to see from the way his eyes move, briefly, to the side and the accompaniment of a brief quirk of the edge of his lip upward that he is developing quite the crush.
...But yes, best focus on the wine. His eyes flick back up to the wizard.]
Thank you. Well then- to company.
[The edge of his glass is lightly bumped against the rim of the other, and a small drink is taken. He cannot help his eyes lingering upon the other's face as he does. His glass is then lowered, remaining in his hand as he tilts his head.]
So. The tome of fire mentioned that novice wizards use transmutation cantrips such as prestidigitation to visualize spells they are learning. To test their arrangement of the Weave, I imagine- so any error in their work presents itself in an unlethal manner. I understand that part. Yet...
[His lips pull upward, in a brief smile. Another drink is taken.]
I've never had need of this cantrip. My magic... is me. I do not arrange anything. But, there are things you know which I do not. So, I borrowed this tome in order to learn something you know well- how to call a fire elemental. And gods, I concentrated. For well over a tenday. And I learned prestidigitation. However...
Well. You recall the fire mephit that scorched Wyll's tent three nights ago? He lied. Chivalrously, might I add. It wasn't his own doing.
[A brief pause.]
So. Long-winded details over with, my question is about control. I'd like to know how you have so much of it.
[Gale's smile hitches wider as he raises his own glass and clinks it against Ara's— and just for a moment, while the elf's gaze is lingering, he might happen to catch Gale's doing the same, however briefly. It lasts for but the space of a heartbeat, only for the wizard's smile to disappear behind his glass of wine as he turns his gaze towards the page, but he sees no reason to be secretive about how much he enjoys their leader's company. Ara, he's found, has several charm points of his own.
He takes a long sip as he listens, considering Ara's approach to the subject at hand. The confession earns a warm chuckle from him in response, amusement plain to see as he lowers his glass and casts a brief glance towards Wyll's tent.]
You inspired our very own Blade of Frontiers to lie? Even in the name of chivalry, that's quite a feat— perhaps even more impressive than the efforts you've put forth trying to learn to summon.
[But the question is a good one, and he prepares to answer it seriously.]
You may not like this particular answer, but there is truly no greater teacher than practice. You were born naturally gifted in a way that I was not, though I've always been talented in my own right— but you have always done things by feel, yes? I'll tell you a secret, if you can promise to keep it.
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}
🔮 @chaotictide, gen texting continuation
When Ara arrives, he'll find Gale scribbling notes to himself in a leatherbound journal, largely reflecting on the day's events; he looks up at the sound of footsteps and offers a warm smile in greeting.]
There you are.
no subject
[Tired, dusty, and most certainly weary, yes. As with all days, today had been a taxing one. But there's a warmth to the camp that soothes the soul. Be it the way of which Scratch bounds toward every single one of them in sheer delight and Astarion's (awful) attempt to act like he's ignoring him, the distant scrape of Lae'zel resharpening her equipment, the musing of a distant Wyll mid-penning his memoirs, or even Karlach and Shadowheart on the hunt for a few wine bottles, there's an easy atmosphere to the encampment that just... feels right. Even the presence of their resident lich is something that sets his heart at ease.
At ease as it is, his heart is still somewhat excited. For him, as a sorcerer- gifted with magic yet knowing absolutely nothing about it save for how to make it happen and how to improvise when it went wrong, the opportunity to learn was something worth excitement. To learn from Gale- who seemed like he didn't mind going through concepts that were likely quite rudimentary to him, who had the patience to lay things out in ways he understood, and never, ever shied away from answering questions- highly so.
And it shows in his tone. Admittedly, he's far more weary than hyped. That should be plain to see. But there's a warmth to the half-elf's words, something fond. And happily, he takes the extra stool. ]
So. About that tome of fire...
[It would be plain to see. He had questions. A great amount of them.]
apologies, I perished this month!! no worries if this is too old
Yes, yes! Make yourself comfortable. I'm sure you're just burning with questions.
[Tome of fire, burning— he's very carefully walking that fine line between charming and groan-worthy, he's sure, but he can't help but be in high spirits. Ara's company is always more than welcome, and he can't pretend he doesn't enjoy having someone who doesn't just tolerate his enthusiastic prattling, but actually likes it, engages with it.]
I've some wine set aside, if you intend to stay awhile and would care for something to drink.
[Hardly an unusual offer, he knows; most of them keep a bottle of something they're fond of on hand if they can manage it, and much like a good book, wine is to be enjoyed.]
No probs! I'll wait 5va for Gale ❤
...Long enough, likely, for the aforementioned wizard to want to toss him out. But. He had quite a while until that happened. So. As he crosses a leg underneath himself...]
Thank you, by the way. I imagine reiterating concepts you likely learned as a child isn't the best use of your time.
[It had to be said.]
💖
Nonsense— you've no need to thank me. There's always something to be gained by revisiting nearly any subject, especially in such good company.
[That part matters far more to him— but he's always been the type to want to share knowledge, not think less of others for wanting to learn.]
I'd say the company alone makes it a fine use.
no subject
Well. It should be plain to see from the way his eyes move, briefly, to the side and the accompaniment of a brief quirk of the edge of his lip upward that he is developing quite the crush.
...But yes, best focus on the wine. His eyes flick back up to the wizard.]
Thank you. Well then- to company.
[The edge of his glass is lightly bumped against the rim of the other, and a small drink is taken. He cannot help his eyes lingering upon the other's face as he does. His glass is then lowered, remaining in his hand as he tilts his head.]
So. The tome of fire mentioned that novice wizards use transmutation cantrips such as prestidigitation to visualize spells they are learning. To test their arrangement of the Weave, I imagine- so any error in their work presents itself in an unlethal manner. I understand that part. Yet...
[His lips pull upward, in a brief smile. Another drink is taken.]
I've never had need of this cantrip. My magic... is me. I do not arrange anything. But, there are things you know which I do not. So, I borrowed this tome in order to learn something you know well- how to call a fire elemental. And gods, I concentrated. For well over a tenday. And I learned prestidigitation. However...
Well. You recall the fire mephit that scorched Wyll's tent three nights ago? He lied. Chivalrously, might I add. It wasn't his own doing.
[A brief pause.]
So. Long-winded details over with, my question is about control. I'd like to know how you have so much of it.
no subject
[Gale's smile hitches wider as he raises his own glass and clinks it against Ara's— and just for a moment, while the elf's gaze is lingering, he might happen to catch Gale's doing the same, however briefly. It lasts for but the space of a heartbeat, only for the wizard's smile to disappear behind his glass of wine as he turns his gaze towards the page, but he sees no reason to be secretive about how much he enjoys their leader's company. Ara, he's found, has several charm points of his own.
He takes a long sip as he listens, considering Ara's approach to the subject at hand. The confession earns a warm chuckle from him in response, amusement plain to see as he lowers his glass and casts a brief glance towards Wyll's tent.]
You inspired our very own Blade of Frontiers to lie? Even in the name of chivalry, that's quite a feat— perhaps even more impressive than the efforts you've put forth trying to learn to summon.
[But the question is a good one, and he prepares to answer it seriously.]
You may not like this particular answer, but there is truly no greater teacher than practice. You were born naturally gifted in a way that I was not, though I've always been talented in my own right— but you have always done things by feel, yes? I'll tell you a secret, if you can promise to keep it.
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?