“i think you enjoy keeping people guessing.”
"Well, there's certainly some magic in mystery, wouldn't you say?" Gale's smile darkened slightly into a smirk as he sidestepped around the other man.
He was playing the mysterious mage persona well enough, but he knew, deep down, that the truth would have to come out eventually. His condition, the one that demanded he consume magic regularly, was not something he could keep hidden forever. It was something he would need to discuss with at least one member of the party. But who could he trust with that?
It wasn't even a subject he had ever found the strength to raise with his mother -- only with Tara. And each time he fed on magic, the relief eased a little less than before, which only deepened his worry. That, and his own abilities were fading. He claimed to be a renowned wizard, yet struggled now with a fireball -- a spell he'd mastered as a child. He wasn't even as capable as he had been at seven.
And yet he had to persevere, lest he be swallowed by the sea of pain and misery he was merely treading water in. The best way to keep going? Fake a smile until it felt real. Push the bravado until he found the strength to make his claims true again. He had to keep going, because if he failed, the Orb would win.
With that thought, he smiled wider, giving Figaro's shoulder a light pat before gesturing toward the rest of camp, in particular, the little cooking station set up at its edge.
"You know, there is far more magic in the world than of just the Weave. Allow me to show you."
