#recitedemise

[spiderwarden]

RIP Gale's cooking, you were good while we were able to eat it.

[rubistella]

@recitedemise || continued...

Astarion's stomach lurched, his mind was an anecdote that spiralled, and that nagging sensation one might even call adrenaline took hold. It was as if his body was in disconnect with his thoughts. Steps carried him to Gale on sheer instinct and with every intention of grabbing the man, shaking some sense into him, but something kept him. Something... 

“Gale, no… Wait–” His voice splintered, no more than a fractured sound. It took him a moment to realise what was holding him back wasn’t fear, but a hand wrapped around his waist, vying for attention.

Astarion didn’t have time for this.

“Fuck off!” he barked at his irritating companion, not bothering to temper the acrimony in his demand as he swatted away the hand and stormed after the wizard. Even when Gale had broken line of sight, Astarion’s tracking skills proved to be a little more refined than any might have expected. It didn’t take a lot of effort, really, what with his sensitive vampiric nostrils locked onto the man’s perfume, a scent he'd grown familiar with... Fond of, even.

Gale was headed home.

A sharp turn here, shoving off strangers out of his way there, and Astarion could finally see him. There was only one moment in his life that Gale’s image brought him just as much horror as it did feeling— it was on the day he first lost the man to fate. A sentiment the vampire didn’t know how to name, wasn’t sure if he cared to either, gripped him with the same intensity as abysmal dread. It was better kept from his voice, emotion had a way of squandering things, but it would have taken him a lot of restraint to accomplish that.

Astarion wasn't known for his restraint.

“So that’s it?” He began, tenor several notes sharper than intended. “You see me with someone else and immediately assume that this bloke I’ve met on some dating app is more important than you?” He didn’t even need to breathe, yet the vampire felt as though his airways were clogged, and the undead heart in his chest suddenly became a great burden. “Well, maybe,” he continued, forcing an airy, bitter laugh, “you should’ve said something. Because if there was some exclusivity clause between us, I must have missed it in the fine print.”

Shit.

As a patron of sin— reckless, indulgent, and occasionally reaching biblical fucking proportions— Astarion knew he shouldn't have let that one spill.

[miidnighters-a]

@recitedemise | continued from ☾

A bed. It's but a singular bed, Greer.

God, Hartley's exhausted and the adrenaline's still coursing and this was the last thing she wanted to deal with. She had very definitely booked a room with two twins.

"I'm sorry, darling, this wasn't intentional-"

Gale, however, seems just as exhausted - to the point of acceptance, rather than arguing, as he corrals her in and sits her gently on the bed. Hartley watches him where he kneels before her, keen eyes cataloguing him for obvious signs of injury.

He slips off her boot with a gentleness Hartley is entirely unused to, and in turn she reaches out to card fingers through his hair to cup his jaw and raise his head from where he's very pointedly not looking at her. "Nor am I, Gale darling. Share with me. I'm not suggesting anything more than just sleep," unless he wants it, but that thought gets pushed out of her mind quick-smart. "but neither of us should spend the night on the floor after the day we've had."

Oh, wait, what? "Am I? I didn't even feel it. There's a first aid kit in my overnight bag."

[downspirals]

@recitedemise ... liked.

"you look like you've had a day. would coffee help?"

[driofaire]

Frustrated growl. "You know, if you were so keen on being forced to walk this path alone, you should've said. One more word, wizard. I dare you."

@recitedemise.

[shrapnelsong]

@recitedemise || continued

She walks the perimeter out of habit. Ever since shedding the surname she was deemed so undeserving of in exchange for her life, she's never felt truly safe at night anywhere that isn't her grandfather's farm. And after waking up to allies holding something sharp to her neck one too many times in recent memory, that instinct will continue to speak louder than usual for a good while.

There is one absence that makes itself most noticeable, and her gaze washes searchingly over the area, finding a gentle spot of summoned light that draws her in like a moth to a flame. Her steps remain silent whether on stone, earth or grass, sauntering closer and closer without apparent detection.

Smiling to herself, Alice crouches down next to the mage, admiring him from upclose. She knows he can take care of himself - has witnessed him wield his magic with terrifying mastery, shoulder a god-given burden with almost infuriating grace - but seeing him like this, so innocently engrossed in the well-loved book, it makes her want to protect him.

Gingerly, she pushes back a lock of hair hanging over his eyes. Her heart breaks in waking him, whether from slumber or from his immersion, but his body will thank her for it later. Her smile widens when he remarks upon it himself, watching him with affection shining in her gaze. From her own experience, she knows that a book he carries with him has to be a treasured one, but the knowledge doesn't keep her from taking a peek at it.

It is not the first time she's had this thought while in Gale's presence. Perhaps if her life had been a little less tumultuous, if she hadn't stumbled upon the arcane and learnt it out of necessity... If she'd had safe ground and time spent not running to nurture her curiosity, perhaps she would have trailed a similar path to his. But it goes away as quickly as it appears. If her journey had been any different, maybe it wouldn't have led her to him.

"I would gladly listen to you reading anything." Born to a songstress, her ears are particularly attuned to voices. His is a balm she will never tire of hearing in all its little lilts and dips, in how it speeds up when he's excited or flustered. "But perhaps we should turn in?" She suggests gently, running a fingertip along his jaw. "We can always read together later." His moments are no longer numbered, after all.

[bolyde]

synergism. || A Web Weave for the Love of Gale Dekarios

@recitedemise

Fatima Aamer Bilal from coffin heart bury me.

Ursula K. Le Guin

Wolf Now, Now

Ayu Shakya

Jenny Slate Little Weirds

Mahmoud Darwish In the Presence of Absence

Sylvia Plath The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

[fereldensheroesa]

@recitedemise liked for a Durge!

The group was an odd one, so far, but it wasn't as if she could claim to be any better. Nimue had asked each of the others as she met them if they'd begun to suffer any... memory loss... since the tadpole. Not a single soul, apart from Shadowheart who had chosen to forget. Still, she was curious. She wouldn't mention the thoughts, not yet. Gods, she wouldn't mention those. But she did have questions. And so the elf had plopped herself outside of Gale's tent. He was far more approachable that Lae'zel and seemed knowledgeable.

"Do the tadpoles cause nausea and headaches?" The words were probably not the best to start with, but they tumbled from her. She didn't know how to backtrack, so she progressed. "It would make sense, right? It's something in your brain."