#arcanecast

[proelio-procusi-a]

@arcanecast asked: ϟ caleb to astrid because angst.... Send me ϟ for my muse to tell yours the story behind one of their scars.

Astrid could see Caleb staring at her and her fingers went to her eye brushing the scar a moment. They realized that they had gotten the scar after Caleb had broken and he probably didn't know the story of how it happened.

"Right, you probably want to know what happened." She spoke with a small sigh. "It was during an interrogation." She spoke softly. Their whole body seemed to freeze for a moment with the memory of it all.

[rubistella]

"So, blissful ignorance it is.” @arcanecast's arrival in camp prompted the elf almost immediately, drawing him near like a pilgrim to a map. “You’re just going to pretend that the mangy stray who was stealing away with the artefact – and happened to fade into thin air in a curtain of billowing smoke – has absolutely nothing to do with you or your...” An inhale, sharp. The edge of his crimson eyes honed to a dagger’s end. “...ambitions?”

For all of Astarion’s penetrating stare, the rise of challenge was subtle in his voice.

“Fine. Two can play this game and I’m more than happy to oblige.”

Diamonds were hard to miss by default, but one infused with arcane properties? Even harder. As the pale elf retrieved the pendant from his pocket, he presented it against the backdrop of the setting sun, allowing the light to weave through its facets into kaleidoscopic refractions that danced within.

“Now, I’m not a wizard… but as an elf I can tell there’s ancient power caged within this little sought-after trinket of yours.” And as a thief, he could measure its weight in gold. It was delicious. “Did you honestly intend to keep this from the others?” Because Astarion certainly had put no effort into disclosing it either, but Caleb needn’t be privy to that. “Who's to say which of us couldn't harness its potential for the trials that lie ahead?”

Not to mention it would fetch a handsome price in the black market...

[recitedemise]

First, there'd been pain, agony, and a yowling in his chest.

And then right after, absolute silence.

Dream, Gale supposes -- my gods, does he know an ample lot about thought and dream. Even in his youth, he'd nothing but those loftiest ideas and the most dizzying of visions. Those had grown through his summers, flowering into yearning for godhood and love, but for a spell, he had dreamt of nothing else beyond the howling of tempests and from the ache in heart, his lover's foul words. For some time, Gale Dekarios had known nothing but those flashes of nightmare.

To be thrust so soundly from these ravaging dreams... Oh. Gale sucks in a breath, lungs sputtering again. Alive, alive, and breathing. He is breathing still.

What is this? Gale startles, eying this man before him as magic pulses in shimmering tendrils. He remembers now. He was supposed to be sleeping. He had hid from the world to die lonely with his orb, and now, awake, he was breathing still. The world spins, his body aches, and he near collapses by the wall. "I--" What's a man supposed to say right now? His tongue is having a very seldom seen blunder. He had hid in a cave, a cave so dark and so far from reach. Alone, he should be, but alone he's not. "I'm assuming you have a perfectly reasonable explanation for dredging me out of. Well." His hovel, this odd thing now wreathed by stalagmites. "That." / @arcanecast.

[wildskissed]

@arcanecast gets a starter for Caleb

Eve was still feeling kind of jittery, and she knew it was just because of what had happened earlier, but that didn't change that she felt anxious. Besides, she was tired of being shown up by wizards, even if it was very clear that they had a leg up as far as educated magic was concerned. In this instance, she was sure that Caleb had a lot to say, but she didn't really want him to say it.

"You know it wasn't you that I set on fire, yes?" she heard herself ask him, feeling like his stare was boring into her soul. He probably didn't mean it like that--perhaps he wasn't even staring--but she was feeling self conscious. At the same time, she didn't feel like anyone but Shadowheart and Astarion and herself should be upset and she'd already had to talk Astarion down. "You're safe..." Relatively.

[crosaidi]

❛ such knowledge has been known to cost a man his head. ❜ (from caleb) @arcanecast

"  Men  have  lost  their  bloody  heads  for  half-decent  ale,  "  he  rounds  back  with  a  sigh,  voice  a  little  dour  in  and  thick  in  his  throat.  "  An’  taken  heads  for  th’same.  "  He’s  no  scholar: he  knows  how  to  read,  he  knows  his  letters  and  even  some  in  other  languages,  which  is  more  than  can  be  said  for  a  number  of  people,  but  he  doesn’t  have  a  mind  for  sitting  still  and  looking  at  it,  studying  it,  flipping  pages  and  remembering  it.  He  prefers  the  kind  of  knowing  that  comes  from  feeling  his  hands  do  it  enough  times  it’s  baked  into  muscle  memory  — and  so,  when  it  comes  to  this  kind  of  thing,  he  feels  so  keenly  out  of  his  element.  

"  Yer  the  wizard,  "  he  says,  at  last,  more  evenly  — more  diplomatically, if not still a little gruff.  "  An’  more  educated  in  these  things.  If  you  think  this  t’be  a  bad  idea,  I  won’t  argue  it.  But,  "  and  this,  entirely  reasonably,  "  I’ve  also  got  a  big  fuckin’  sword  if  someone  comes  for  our  heads,  so  there’s  that.  "

[charlatanry]

there  is  blood  on  his  hands  —  saturating  them,  really.  the  scent  wafts  over  him  like  an  enticing  perfume.  it's  enough  to  make  astarion's  mouth  water,  hunger  stabbing  at  his  stomach  like  a  hundred  tiny  needles.  (  a  familiar  pain  that  never  loses  its  edge.  )  he  really  should  invest  in  a  pair  of  gloves  if  this  little  adventure  of  theirs  is  to  continue.  or  steal  them  —  for  only  an  idiot  would  fork  over  gold  to  obtain  that  which  could  be  acquired  for  free.  the  spawn's  nose  wrinkles  a  bit  as  he  notices  the  gore  is  drying  beneath  his  nails.  alright.  enough  wasting  time.

he's  crouched  at  the  edge  of  the  river,  fingertips  hovering  just  above  the  water's  surface.  it  won't  hurt  him,  astarion  knows.  not  as  long  as  the  tadpole  rests  comfortably  inside  his  skull.  yet  there  is  still  a  scrap  of  self-preservation  that  causes  him  to  hesitate,  like  one  (  understandably  )  afraid  to  delve  headfirst  into  a  roaring  flame  or  pool  of  sizzling  acid.  ❝  do  you  need  something? ❞  hands  plunge  into  the  river  with  a  splash  —  a  bit  more  dramatically  than  what's  necessary,  but  the  subsequent  ripples  do  a  decent  enough  job  disguising  his  lack  of  a  reflection.  for  now.  ❝  the  staring  is  a  little  off-putting,  you  know. ❞

@arcanecast &&. liked for a STARTER.

[proelio-procusi-a]

@arcanecast asked: “You’re right, I don’t understand, yet. Will you help me?” (from caleb for astrid or eadwulf or both of them together!)

Eadwulf sighed a moment before eyeing Astrid. He glanced around the space to see if any other eyes were on them before the woman spoke.

"Do you have somewhere... secure we can talk?" It was easy to slip back into the comfortable Zemnian that she only really used now when talking to either of the two men in front of her.

[proelio-procusi-a]

starter for @arcanecast

"Please tell me you have everything you need for your spells at this point or is there another stop we have to make?" She asked eyeing the wizard a moment.