@crookedredemption asked: "i am not sure i can be what you want me to be." / Royal, Fantasy Romance, and Spice: still accepting.
Gale looks to her. In the dark of the night, her words carry like a storm. They crackle and roar, trembling in the shadows like some bogey man's coo, but it's little for the volume or some fear's foul inklings... But rather, he deduces, for her dark and doom. He eyes her in study, no frown pulled soft at the purse of her mouth. She had said it like a whisper, like he's hardly even there, and he imagines what eats her is caught eating her insides. She looks reluctant to slumber--and so, too, does he.
Both are reckonings. Both bring death. Gale, with a conjured flame, lights these Shadowed lands.
"Oh, I'm sure we've all had enough of hearing about Gale of Waterdeep," he jests, tone low and teasing, watching the fire glow soft along her jaw. "As it were, admittedly, I fail to see how it is my opinion matters. Regardless of circumstances, what stands is that you and I are both here. Unmoored, perhaps, and with hardly a compass to guide our feet, but we've no longer leash or lead to go mindlessly following. All those roads stretched before us are ours to take."
How sweet. And sick. Casting, the ember Gale stokes feels to give chase to their unsaid worries. It feels figurative somehow, as though he alone can smother the shadows of their fate. Had only he'd such power to go and do so... Eying her, Sylmae's profile gleams both marble-sharp and fine.
"No one should soon rob you of them, me or otherwise. If you don't mind my saying so, I believe we should be far more interested in what you would like to be."
