[ Astarion tilts his head at the strange ball of magic in Gale's hand, scooting forward in his chair and reaching out to touch it with a finger. It doesn't feel like much of anything, which he supposes is to be expected. Shadows aren't tactile. ]
You've already done more work than I— [ What? Thought? Hoped? All of the above, perhaps. He hadn't expected Gale to be thinking of his condition at all, when he could be amazing Waterdeep's socialites with illusory tricks. ]
You've done plenty, [ he settles on. ]
What will it cost me for you to keep working on it?
Cost you? [ Confusion crosses his face, and then true, genuine hurt. Does Astarion think him so caddish? The sort to construct such a solution merely in the hopes of extracting something from him?
He lets the spell dissipate, hand dropping to his lap. ]
[ Oh. He's said something wrong. Not a first for him by any means, but caring about having said something wrong is still new. Embarrassment bubbles up, first at having misstepped and then at being embarrassed that he misstepped. Gods, giving a damn about other people really is a drag.
Instinctively defensive, he bristles. ] Oh, you know I didn't mean anything by it.
[ And, really, he didn't. Everything did have a price for two hundred years. He's still getting used to the idea that someone, anyone, might want to help him out of the goodness of their hearts. Not long ago, he'd been convinced that no one really had any goodness in their hearts. He'd been proven astonishingly wrong, of course, but it's still a rough transition to make.
After a moment, he softens again, shoulders relaxing, aware that he has no reason to be prickly about this. ]
I only thought that this sort of undertaking would be costly for you. Cures for sunlight sensitivity are hardly commonplace.
[ He had not thought at all on what he would tell Astarion, any more than he had questioned whether he should take on the task to begin with. Of course he should try, if it were within his power. And yet he finds himself wincing now at his own thoughtlessness; his eagerness to show off.
Astarion had endured 200 years of enslavement and torment. Of course he would feel uncomfortable, confronted with such a thing with little warning. And perhaps indebted, whatever Gale’s intentions.
as gently as he can: ] -Well. I would be an awful friend if I were to hold you in debt for a task I took on without so much as consulting you.
But such as it may be. My time is my own, yes? And the question holds no small amount of intellectual fascination.
[ he hesitates. ] ...If you would feel unable to accept such a gift, surely a rogue of your considerable talents could... acquire it from my possession.
[ By some other means, Gale says, as if there's any subtlety to it at all. Even as strange as it feels to be on the receiving end of someone's generosity, Astarion can't help but huff out a laugh. Dry, amused. A little charmed, despite himself. ]
Gale, if you wanted to play the daring rogue and his helpless victim, you only needed to say so.
[ An obvious jest, only meant to fluster. He gave up on enticing hopeless romantic Gale to play anything of that sort a long time ago. Right around the time Gale professed that he preferred taking their walks in silence, probably. ]
What will you need to complete it? [ Because if not for some external roadblock, Gale would have already finished. He's irritatingly clever that way. Quoting Gale, he adds, ] A rogue of my considerable talents might be able to procure it for you.
[ Embarrassingly, he flushes at the joke right on cue, which is certainly the rather rich wine going to his head. He sets his glass down primly. ]
Well, chiefly a vampire. If I may beg your assistance in that regard, we may verify that the theory is truly sound.
Assuming that it is, we’ll need to find something to... amplify the spell. So that it will sustain itself. [ His face falls. ]
My... former abilities have not as yet returned as I had hoped.
[ Tara has guessed, naturally, but he has not said the words out loud to anyone else. It feels like admitting weakness, acknowledging some sort of defeat. ]
[ Gale looks like a sad puppy abandoned in a box on the side of the road. Astarion can't begin to relate to what magic is to Gale—more than a tool, more than a passion; a religion—but he has to fight his own face falling all the same. Gods, is this empathy he's feeling? He's gone soft. Unlike Gale, however, he does manage to hide his own frown. With feigned nonchalance, he waves a hand. ]
It's only a matter of time, I'm sure.
[ He isn't sure. Gale wasn't only affected by the tadpole, but the orb, too. Something that powerful siphoning away one's magical abilities — it can't be easy to get them back. ]
Besides, you've already more than enough arcane talent to come through. [ Dryly: ] And that's me saying so, so it must be true.
[ Astarion isn't in the habit of giving out undeserved praise. Sometimes, he isn't even in the habit of giving out deserved praise. There's no one on this planet more devoted to magical studies or more annoyingly clever than Gale. (If there were, he might have gone to them instead of showing up at Gale's door pleading for help. The very thought of what he's done is humiliating, tempered only by the knowledge that Gale was already working on it.)
Leaning back in his chair: ] I'm not particularly well-versed in wizardry — despite your endless jabbering. [ The dig is less sharp than it might have been, back when they'd first met. It's wry, almost amused at the memory of Gale's nattering on about magic. ] But I can't imagine magical amplifiers like that are just lying around.
I am touched you retained enough for even that much optimism.
[ Hardly warranted at all, but Gale finds it curiously doesn’t matter. He’d not been seeking comfort exactly, only for Astarion to understand his current limitation, which was only fair given the task before them. That he had offered it in his own way anyway is a small, unexpected balm of warmth. ]
Oh! Yes. I do have leads, of course, but most are outdated by some years. Unfortunately not everything of use can be learned from a book. [ Gale says it as if this reality of the world greatly disappoints him. ]
But perhaps you can assist me in that. [ Astarion has always been better at more practical forms of investigation. Gale does love watching him work. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
You've already done more work than I— [ What? Thought? Hoped? All of the above, perhaps. He hadn't expected Gale to be thinking of his condition at all, when he could be amazing Waterdeep's socialites with illusory tricks. ]
You've done plenty, [ he settles on. ]
What will it cost me for you to keep working on it?
no subject
He lets the spell dissipate, hand dropping to his lap. ]
Must everything have a price, Astarion?
no subject
Instinctively defensive, he bristles. ] Oh, you know I didn't mean anything by it.
[ And, really, he didn't. Everything did have a price for two hundred years. He's still getting used to the idea that someone, anyone, might want to help him out of the goodness of their hearts. Not long ago, he'd been convinced that no one really had any goodness in their hearts. He'd been proven astonishingly wrong, of course, but it's still a rough transition to make.
After a moment, he softens again, shoulders relaxing, aware that he has no reason to be prickly about this. ]
I only thought that this sort of undertaking would be costly for you. Cures for sunlight sensitivity are hardly commonplace.
no subject
Astarion had endured 200 years of enslavement and torment. Of course he would feel uncomfortable, confronted with such a thing with little warning. And perhaps indebted, whatever Gale’s intentions.
as gently as he can: ] -Well. I would be an awful friend if I were to hold you in debt for a task I took on without so much as consulting you.
But such as it may be. My time is my own, yes? And the question holds no small amount of intellectual fascination.
[ he hesitates. ] ...If you would feel unable to accept such a gift, surely a rogue of your considerable talents could... acquire it from my possession.
By some other means.
no subject
Gale, if you wanted to play the daring rogue and his helpless victim, you only needed to say so.
[ An obvious jest, only meant to fluster. He gave up on enticing hopeless romantic Gale to play anything of that sort a long time ago. Right around the time Gale professed that he preferred taking their walks in silence, probably. ]
What will you need to complete it? [ Because if not for some external roadblock, Gale would have already finished. He's irritatingly clever that way. Quoting Gale, he adds, ] A rogue of my considerable talents might be able to procure it for you.
no subject
Well, chiefly a vampire. If I may beg your assistance in that regard, we may verify that the theory is truly sound.
Assuming that it is, we’ll need to find something to... amplify the spell. So that it will sustain itself. [ His face falls. ]
My... former abilities have not as yet returned as I had hoped.
[ Tara has guessed, naturally, but he has not said the words out loud to anyone else. It feels like admitting weakness, acknowledging some sort of defeat. ]
no subject
It's only a matter of time, I'm sure.
[ He isn't sure. Gale wasn't only affected by the tadpole, but the orb, too. Something that powerful siphoning away one's magical abilities — it can't be easy to get them back. ]
Besides, you've already more than enough arcane talent to come through. [ Dryly: ] And that's me saying so, so it must be true.
[ Astarion isn't in the habit of giving out undeserved praise. Sometimes, he isn't even in the habit of giving out deserved praise. There's no one on this planet more devoted to magical studies or more annoyingly clever than Gale. (If there were, he might have gone to them instead of showing up at Gale's door pleading for help. The very thought of what he's done is humiliating, tempered only by the knowledge that Gale was already working on it.)
Leaning back in his chair: ] I'm not particularly well-versed in wizardry — despite your endless jabbering. [ The dig is less sharp than it might have been, back when they'd first met. It's wry, almost amused at the memory of Gale's nattering on about magic. ] But I can't imagine magical amplifiers like that are just lying around.
no subject
[ Hardly warranted at all, but Gale finds it curiously doesn’t matter. He’d not been seeking comfort exactly, only for Astarion to understand his current limitation, which was only fair given the task before them. That he had offered it in his own way anyway is a small, unexpected balm of warmth. ]
Oh! Yes. I do have leads, of course, but most are outdated by some years. Unfortunately not everything of use can be learned from a book. [ Gale says it as if this reality of the world greatly disappoints him. ]
But perhaps you can assist me in that. [ Astarion has always been better at more practical forms of investigation. Gale does love watching him work. ]