So you have Gale- a human bomb, the end of the world in the shape of a man- who bears the title Wizard of Waterdeep less as acclaim earned, more as duty called.
He is used to making himself available and adaptable to the whims of a goddess. But not just a goddess, the center of his whole world, the controller of and in fact a manifestation of the magic he uses. Magic he uses not just in service of the aforementioned duty but as comfort, as coping skill, as his calling. The Weave is everything to him! Not just a goddess, but his lover. His sexuality, his experience of affection, of connection, of companionship, is all monopolized by Mystra.
Before that, he was in service to Elminster, before that and alongside that, wizard academia itself. All with this idea that he had been called upon, chosen (and Chosen™). He is so groomed and conditioned to those calls of service (it reminds me of John Wick, the Director, the High Table - "I have served, I will be of service" even past the point of forgivability because what other context for life do you have in this system?) that when he is told his chance at forgiveness (or what Mystra would consider forgiveness, as Elminster so infuriatingly states) would mean dying, he accepts it right away. When you love a goddess, your death is a footnote. It was always going to be a footnote.
And if we think about Gale, his early connections to the Weave (which I refuse to believe Mystra was unaware of), his purest act is summoning Tara, a tressym who is functionally his nanny. Gale is not practiced in living for himself. He is practiced in being a walking cover letter, in giving people what they want from the Wizard of Waterdeep™, in being a representative of the Weave. And where he stumbles, which is also where he is engaing with his emotions, is in trying to use the Weave for connection and intimacy. The mask slips and Gale reaches out, desperately and hungrily.
So it really must be something for Gale Dekarios, who even after you have told him you're in this for THE MAN, not the Wizard, not the Bomb, not the Weave, still responds to you with, "what do you need? are you alright? yes, my love? What can I do for you?" etc, to be met with his kneejerk urgency and panic at needing to know what you want and what you want now and fix it fix it fix it lest he be cut off, no longer Chosen, no longer a partner, no longer a team mate, etc...
to just be met with, "Oh, I just want to kiss you."
And I think about that and the soft little laugh he does every time... and I'm on my KNEES.
dailybridgerton
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