Bloggo's Plants :3

"You're a bit short for a Chosen of Mystra," Astarion had scoffed and Gale actually looked crestfallen at that.

"I used to be a lot longer, you know. Proportionally probably three times your length for your size."

"What happened?"

It was a tale for another time. Astarion's wait for it was as short as Gale himself. Dribs and drabs came out in conversation. Gale's constant need to be fed magical items because of the bald patch he called his 'orb'. It was a foolish endeavour that he pursued in the name of proving himself to Mystra, wanting to gain the ultimate length that matched hers. He wanted to be a God's equal. In a way, Astarion could respect that ambition.

As they travelled, Gale's magic grew, so did his length. At first it wasn't noticeable. Astarion could noodle past him without being detected on his hunts for blood. Except moving past Gale took longer and longer, which was when he realised that Gale was growing.

The orb was stabilised by the longest furby Astarion had ever seen. He could easily wrap around their campfire while munching on cheese with unashamed "yuuuuum yuuuuum" exclamations. If they ignored Mystra's demand that Gale wrap himself around the heart of the Absolute and squeeze until he ruptured the orb, things were actually quite fine.

Employing his stealthiest caterpiller crawl, Astarion thought he could avoid his campmates until a blue illusion of Gale popped into being next to his head and made him curl up in fright. The invitation to join Gale was strangely welcome. They gazed at the stars Gale had conjured into being and Astarion realised he could comfortably lie on Gale's back now and bask in his warmth without his nose or tail getting chilly.

The strange sense of pride Astarion had watching Gale in the Shadowcursed lands was unfamiliar and confusing. There was majesty and poise in the way Gale moved so confidently, cast spells. Facing off against Myrkul's avatar, Gale had encircled Astarion and kept him safe from the 'bone chill' that threatened to engulf him.

In Baldur's Gate, Gale had eagerly dragged him to Sorcerous Sundries where they encountered the abomination that was Lorroakan. Astarion had truly thought he'd seen everything until that moment. To see a furby, artificially longified through spells and constructs was disturbing in a way little else had been. They didn't have much time to shudder at the memories of artifical fur sloughing off the metal frame of a Gondian design. Other goals were to be pursued. Most importantly, lopping off the hand that puppeted Astarion.

Cazador had so many strings wrapped around him, it was a miracle he could still fly. But, as all sky dancers, he remained dangerous, no matter how encumbered. A lone string flapped loosely, undoubtedly the one that should have linked Astarion to him. Fighting him and his minions wasn't easy, the trolls and boglins put up a good fight. But, in the end, they fell to the vicious desperation of Astarion's friends.

Orin and Gortash were also defeated. Then came the netherbrain and all that entailed. Falling out of the sky, Astarion was glad Gale had looped around him, they crashed into the Chionthar together and resurfaced as one. Bedraggled, Astarion didn't immediately realise that his fur wasn't just drying out in the dawning sun's light but was burning. Pure white turned to singed black and he darted to the nearest place to hide and wait out the day. At least he could console himself that his string was now his own, nobody tugged it and he'd never let anyone wrap it around their figners ever again.

Of course Gale found him. And the pieces of Karsus' crown. Returning it to Mystra meant the orb was lifted and Gale was back to his full glory of longification. It was perfect. He curled up each evening and there was enough room on him for Astarion to nuzzle into the lush purple fur while Tara lounged next to him.

All in all, Astarion considered himself a very lucky worm-on-a-string. So much so that, despite his vows, he offered to tie his string to whatever Gale's furby equivalent was. The fond hum and rocking he got from Gale didn't quite make sense but the happy beak peck to the tip of his snoot did. There was no need to get tied to each other, their love was beyond that kind of requirement. Instead, they each got a golden belt to wear, inscribed with 'I long for you. Always.'

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