@weaverots 𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒔 𝒂 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈. ˎˊ˗
wide , scarlet eyes frantically search for a significant source of reprieve as his feet swiftly but clumsily stumble him through the docks. the searing pain of the evening sun doesn’t produce nearly as much agony as the harrowing notion that this is the last time he’ll ever walk in the daylight again. the last time he’ll ever feel the warmth of the rays kiss his porcelain skin , now it chastises it. he doesn’t make it far — he can’t — he has to cram himself against the over - sized cargo upon the loading dock , tucked tightly into the corner.
his breathing , though completely unnecessary , is uneven and frenzied — already he can feel the familiar onslaught of a brutal panic attack as his skin finally begins to heal within the shadows. astarion quickly wraps shaky arms around legs , pressing them tightly against his chest as he hides his face against his knees. he can’t breathe , he can’t breathe , he doesn’t need to breathe , but he can’t bloody breathe !! and he feels as though he’s just lost something akin to a lover , the crushing weight of anguish pinning him beneath the blanket of darkness. he knew this was bound to happen , he tried to prepare himself for this — but , nothing could really prepare him for just how agonizing it would truly be. to have a taste of the living for so long , to walk amongst mortals under the golden light of the sun … to feel normal. to feel warm. to feel alive.
now only darkness awaits his eternity , amongst the hedonism of the night [ he could get used to again. he will get used to it again. he will grow accustomed , and grow fond of his life with his new found freedom one day. but not today. today — he grieves ].
he almost doesn’t hear his name being called over the sounds of his own choked and strangled sobs , he feels like he’s underwater , the world around him is muffled and distant. but finally his name rings out clearer , closer — and atarion’s head is quickly lifted from his knees. his eyes search for him through the haze of burning tears , frantic , and he manages to call out through his tight throat , as if his panic quite literally has a relentless grip around his neck , ❛ gale ! ❜ it’s desperate , as he anxiously waits to see him appear. and like a fucking lifeline in a raging ocean in the middle of a storm , there he is. immediately , astarion reaches out , ❛ gale , ❜ there’s urgency in his tone , even as his hands touch the light yet again and begin to sizzle and smoke.
and gale presses into him , presses him back into the shadows and astarion’s arms are threaded around the wizard’s waist , hiding his face against his chest. and he sobs , partly with anguish and partly relief , that he isn’t alone. but with his sobs comes deeper breaths , still unnecessary , but oddly regulating. slowly , very slowly , his panic shifts into purely sorrow , tight fists gripping the wizard’s robes as he buries his face deeper , deeper , until his tear - stained cheek is flush against gale’s neck. he never would have wanted anyone to see him like this , but here in the wizard’s embrace — he feels safe , and he feels cared for. this could be enough. if gale still wanted him — wanted this — this could be enough.
