tell tale heart

Silent Admission

in tarot, the fool is numbered 0 – the number of unlimited potential. as the protagonist, he is ever present and therefore needs no number as well as no introduction. the world revolves around you in ways that i can't begin to describe, though you'd shrug it off if i were to begin to explain. i need you to know that time is running out. if you want to get this done, you need to start now. sloth is your greatest enemy in this world, and you can only run so far from the opposition when you start with such a disadvantage. keep your head high, yeah? the kid you were is still in there somewhere. you need to show him that it was worth it.

Fuck: Ascended you for the raw thrill

Marry: magistrate for the political advantage

Gale had been nose deep in a tome of his before looking up and clasping it shut with a thud. He laid it precariously upon his lap as he looked up from his seat at the one who approached. "Ah you're speaking of our resident blood sucker, yes?" He animated himself with hands drawn close to his mouth, index fingers pointing down in a mock display of gnashing fangs.

Loss of faith was a truly bitter pill to swallow. It was funny, really, he had never considered himself like those around him that hungered to show devotion to an indifferent God until they had use of them.

Well fate had played quite the game! Made him look the part of a downright fool. That was exactly what he was. Perhaps he had been foolish enough to believe that because he shared what he thought was 'love' with his patron then his was an utterly different thing all together.

Oh the poetic irony of it. It'd make quite the ballad he had to admit, were he not so close to it.

And Astarion, oh Astarion. So passive and held back. Yet here he were showing, from what he could tell, earnest endorsement. He wasn't sure if he could take comfort in that or not. Yet...

"Thank you." The Wizard answered quietly. He wasn't sure how much comfort he should take from it but it was all he had. "I'm still unsure if I have earned it in the right way but..." He stopped thinking hard of the emptiness he now felt, the bitterness, the anger.

Has his Love truly condemned him to such? Has she truly condemned him to death. Could he so easily swear such a thing off? A command from not only his love but his God, a true task given to him and only him as champion of the Weave.

"Thank you nonetheless."

He was still making peace with it. With what was to come. Oh how clever his love was. His sacrifice not only benefitted her but also his newly found companions. A benefit to them at the cost of himself, at the cost of his mistakes. Right... in the end it was his mistake wasn't it?

The Star there is something wonderful stirring in the depths of your being. something within you– something latent– is sleeping there, in the cradle of your mind. creativity comes naturally to you, just as breathing or blinking. you have the capability to extend yourself through art. but are you afraid of it? creating something– terribly afraid that it will never be as good as you hope? it will never be made unless you use your own hands.

Despite how much the elf has so very rudely invaded his personal space, putting on all the schmooze in his voice that no doubt had been refined over many years of practice.

However, the Wizard was not one of his usual targets and had even grown accustomed to it since being forced in this quite, well, unfortunate is a kind way to put it, situation.