Oh, my luck pushing days are behind me [Gale said this while dismissively tapping his chest, he's done quite enough to know that one's luck can have limits. Not that it staves his curiosity in the slightest, though perhaps he should be less curious, less thirsty for knowledge or in general.]
Taking advantage of the magic that my hands are, how diabolic of you. [As if he's not completely aware of the fact that Astarion isn't above such things.] I don't intend to spoil you, you know, a bit of nepotism maybe.
[There's a strange spark of reluctance that lasts only a moment, but when Astarion determinedly frees himself Gale is aware of the unsettling fact that he might have been projecting. Astarion's smooth cool skin felt oddly electric to him, it felt good to touch him, even it it was clear of any intention save for wanting to help the other man.
It's hardly a passing thought to him, or to anyone with eyes that Astarion is objectively attractive, but he reminds himself as well that his life was that of a hermit for quite some time and his contact with others had been limited -- so this was just a remnant of abstaining tickling his primal brain and little else.]
Thanks for the reminder. [Gale didn't need to revisit the garlands of entrail flung about the forest and the animals that had been riddled with holes, or the odd sensation of eyes on him that didn't belong to Astarion.
Gale would probably suggest walking in the stream, if for no other reason than to cover their tracks, but doubted either one of them could tolerate it for long. The air was cold enough, exposing his extremities to the chill of the stream would not end well, and moving water was not a vampire's friend if Gale recalled. Though he wasn't sure if Astarion experienced the cold the same way. A lower body temperature did not necessarily mean he couldn't feel it, but did it bother him?
A question for another time.]
We might be lost, but we already know a few things: one, we don't want to stay here, two, that direction [he pointed] is north -- you can tell because of the moss, and three we're better off following the drainage down hill [pointing again to the flow of the stream]. Since we don't know when or if we'll run into another source of water it's probably a good idea to stick close regardless of direction.
[Another lesson from yours truly, but feel free to lead on.]
no subject
Taking advantage of the magic that my hands are, how diabolic of you. [As if he's not completely aware of the fact that Astarion isn't above such things.] I don't intend to spoil you, you know, a bit of nepotism maybe.
[There's a strange spark of reluctance that lasts only a moment, but when Astarion determinedly frees himself Gale is aware of the unsettling fact that he might have been projecting. Astarion's smooth cool skin felt oddly electric to him, it felt good to touch him, even it it was clear of any intention save for wanting to help the other man.
It's hardly a passing thought to him, or to anyone with eyes that Astarion is objectively attractive, but he reminds himself as well that his life was that of a hermit for quite some time and his contact with others had been limited -- so this was just a remnant of abstaining tickling his primal brain and little else.]
Thanks for the reminder. [Gale didn't need to revisit the garlands of entrail flung about the forest and the animals that had been riddled with holes, or the odd sensation of eyes on him that didn't belong to Astarion.
Gale would probably suggest walking in the stream, if for no other reason than to cover their tracks, but doubted either one of them could tolerate it for long. The air was cold enough, exposing his extremities to the chill of the stream would not end well, and moving water was not a vampire's friend if Gale recalled. Though he wasn't sure if Astarion experienced the cold the same way. A lower body temperature did not necessarily mean he couldn't feel it, but did it bother him?
A question for another time.]
We might be lost, but we already know a few things: one, we don't want to stay here, two, that direction [he pointed] is north -- you can tell because of the moss, and three we're better off following the drainage down hill [pointing again to the flow of the stream]. Since we don't know when or if we'll run into another source of water it's probably a good idea to stick close regardless of direction.
[Another lesson from yours truly, but feel free to lead on.]