When the warlock made his way back to camp, one look at him proved Astarion's suspicions correct. What had been a low simmering... discontent all night, had at once blazed into an inferno. Fangs grinding against teeth, jaw clenched so hard it popped, his hands curled into fists as he reigned in the urge to go find the wizard and stab that bomb in his chest and kill them all in a fiery explosion to match the emotions ravaging through his chest right now..

A ridiculous reaction, nearly as dramatic as some of his more practiced mummeries, yet entirely too genuine. There was real anger running his veins hot, real shock making his mind blank, real upset making his mouth twitch into a scowl. He could only hope the darkness of the night was enough to hide these silly tells for sillier feelings. Mercifully, it did not take long for him to craft up his masks once more and by the time Avarice had approached and said his piece, Astarion was back in control of his outward appearances.

"Naughty boy, you think you can distract me with talk of delectable dinner?" Astarion let his gaze drag slow and lewd across the other's body, admiration clear, foolish fury not, "Oh, I see. The wizard's childish pouts and watery sad eyes finally wore you down enough for a pity fuck then?" he asked, flighty and high, smirk painted firmly back on his mouth, "How kind of you, Saint Avarice the Generous." A flourishing genuflect, mocking and amused, "And to offer sustenance to me afterwards? How sweet." he nearly purred - which was the only warning Avarice got.

More vampire than the man he pretended to be, more cruel than the gentleman he play acted, more real than he was willing to be with an upset snarl ripping from his throat, Astarion pounced. Fingers digging into his shoulders, his nails dug in hard enough to draw blood, and he wasted no time tearing into his throat in turn, right over one of those disgusting little marks given by another. In a more sound mind, he would have a passing fear that Avarice, like anyone sane, may just grab for the nearest stake at such an unnaturally vicious feeding, but all he could think of now was Gale - Gale touching him, Gale being touched by him, Gale being fucked open, Gale falling apart beneath those familiar hands, Gale looking at him with those lovelorn eyes and perhaps seeing such a look returned by Avarice.

Astarion was the real saint for being as gentle as he was with only thoughts of fucking Gale in his mind.

Even the ever delicious spice of Avarice's blood hitting his tongue was not enough to quell this furious attack being treated as if something normal for them. Astarion all but slurped at his neck, sloppy and starved, letting the blood run messily, freely down his chest - better to hide the lingering touches still pressed into Avarice's skin as bruises. He pulled his fangs free carelessly, another pull and tear of the skin, and spun them round, sending Avarice to the ground hard, sprawled upon Astarion's bedroll, half in the dirt, and followed him down rough, winding the other when he let him take the brunt of Astarion's weight on his stomach.

"Fuck -!" hissed out in equal parts pain and surprise at the first dig of nails and teeth in tandem. The latter didn't sink in so much as tore, fangs rending through the already bruised flesh at his throat and leaving a mess in their wake as they buried deep, deeper than a lover stealing a midnight snack. No, tonight Astarion was as wild as any of the monstrous children's stories whispered by frightened village matriarchs to keep doors and windows barred tight after dusk. Tonight it felt like he wanted to eat them alive. Avarice knew the thought should disturb him, but it only made his blood run hotter, hot as the Hells and spilling over his still bare chest. Thank the Gods for small mercies - his clothes would be ruined if he'd bothered to redress before sneaking off for camp.

There was blood all over his tits and running matching rivulets down his back from the rake of Astarion's nails - more like claws tonight as they dragged through flesh with abandon. It smeared wet between their bodies and made an equal mess of the vampire's pretty white shirt, but he didn't seem to mind or notice. A sane person might've grabbed for a stake by now or at least shoved Astarion off in this nigh animalistic state, but Ava had never lent much credence to self preservation. He'd far rather give himself to pleasure and pain and reap the consequences come morning when his body ached. It ached already as his back hit the dirt with a thud, but he offered no complaints as Astarion dropped down to join him.

"Somebody's hungry," he mused, voice rough and breathless, but it didn't slow the assault for a moment. Things were normally calmer, more teasing, dancing around one another like its own form of foreplay. This was full tilt and ravenous and he was hard as rock already with nothing more than the thin fabric of his smalls all but made to advertise the bulge of his cock straining against them. Blood loss became bloodlust the longer Astarion drank from him - made a mess of him - as heat burgeoned in the pit of his stomach, from a simmer to a blaze as his cock ached and seeped a wet mess of its own into the crotch of his smalls. A hiss of pain bled into a moan of pleasure and oh, wasn't that their way? Gods, Ava had never felt weaker, lightheaded and dizzy as the sound of blood rushed in his ears and all he could hear was his own heartbeat punctuating Astarion's wet sounds of feasting.

With waning strength, big, rough hands settled at slim hips and dragged them down enough to grind himself against Astarion's ass. Back arched, half snarl and half whine at the friction in sync with harsh nails slicing through flesh, all his body a canvas, pressing ever into the source of pain and never away. Hips rocked an unsteady rhythm but it wasn't enough when he wanted nothing more than to tear those tight little pants down and fuck that even tighter little body open on his cock. "I want a taste," he heard himself say, a low rumble from his throat. A taste of Astarion or himself? Perhaps both. A hand left the other's hip in favour of burying itself in those pretty white curls, grasping tight and demanding even as "Please," left his lips, guiding that mouth away from his throat in a careless way that tore deeper at the bruised flesh there.

Gale had never been more comfortable, even with lingering road dust on his skin and blood in his hair. There was unfortunately no shining silver bath tubs in camp - and in this particular camp, not even a river to rinse off in. Yet, that hadn’t stopped Ava from happily joining him in his tent last night.

Now, morning light filtered in through the purple canvas, painting everything a lovely cool tone, Ava most of all. The warlock was even bloodier, dirtier than him, but he found he rather liked the musk of him, strong and rich and manly. Hardly a surprise, given he liked everything about the boy, such a perfect form compared to Gale with his soft stomach, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, the netherese orb tearing new scars across his chest seemingly every day. Ava wasn't unmarked, but the mismatch of his false eye, the line across his throat and over his jaw, the other little knicks and bruises that he constantly had only lended more power to his austere, mortal beauty.

He hadn't ever thought to find such beauty outside of the gods, away from the plane of Nirvana, but Avarice was more beautiful than Mystra by far - though he likely wouldn't be fool enough to ever say that to her face. Goddesses had a habit of taking such slights, no matter how accurate, out on those who surpassed them, and he very much liked Avarice alive.

Blinking, Gale pulled his thoughts away from Avarice - always an exceedingly difficult task - and tried to focus on the tome he'd been reading, comfortably wearing naught by his lover's shirt and stretched out against his side. As if sensing his attempt at pulling his attention elsewhere for once, Ava started to stir, and at once, Gale abandoned his reading entirely, putting it aside in favor of rolling over to kiss him awake.

Good morning, my love. It was like Ava's thoughts had summoned the words. He hadn't said it back yet, hadn't returned that painfully genuine confession, no matter how much his heart stirred and ached to show itself. Maybe it was strength, or maybe it was cowardice, keeping words of love locked tight behind his teeth as if he didn't show it in a thousand other ways - ways that mortified them to imagine Gale noticing while still hoping he did, still wanting the other to know while fearing the same thing. Even now something greedy and starving coiled tight within their chest to see him clad in nothing but their own shirt once they'd blinked the last of sleep from mismatched eyes. They were taller, broader, and bulkier than him, all well-honed planes of muscle, and the fabric hung loose around him in a way that made Ava want to kiss him senseless.

"Morning," he rumbled back with a voice low and rough from sleep as he rolled to face Gale, chest to chest. An arm curled at once about his waist, fingertips finding the hem of that still bloodied shirt and slipping up inside to skim a palm across the wizard's bare back, blunt nails catching and dragging gently, scritching. "Mm, not a chance. Fiends don't let go of something once it's theirs, you know." Neither did Avarice. No matter what fear and doubt still twisted up inside him, there was also a ravenous beast curled up there too, purring and satisfied to know that Gale was his without question. A breath of laughter from his throat, fanning out across the other's flushed face, "Maybe if you keep wearing my shirt while you make me breakfast," he teased and the beast stretched out, flexing its claws deeper, pleased at the image. As a show of appreciation, their hand dragged down, down, to smack a still bare and barely covered ass cheek just hard enough to sting sweetly.

By @ creamyghost on twitter/X

When one was on the verge of a glorious end, it put much and more into perspective. Gale had planned the evening before with Avarice under the assumption that he would enjoy a romantic night of gazing at the stars with the one he loved before sharing his feelings and being gently rejected. Just a moment to pretend like there was potential between them -he would have to be blind and deaf to not know of Avarice and Astarion's night time activities, and suspected that Gale, even with all his handsome looks and smooth charm, was little comparison to the roguish, bad boy allure of the vampire spawn. Yet, Avarice was always full of surprises and the night had turned out far differently - far better - than he ever could have imagined.

Suddenly, the world did not seem so bleak anymore. The doubts lingered in his head over what path forward he should take when considering the deadly netherese orb within his chest, but they were in the back of his mind now - skeletons in the dark closet of his brain, easily ignored in favor of how happy he was. Suddenly, it seemed like a new future laid sprawled out before him, one with his love at his side. He'd been practically giddy all day, humming and smiling and endlessly in a good mood, even now, during the, at times, massive task of making dinner for everyone.

Entirely worth it though, as Avarice joined him near the campfire.

"Hello." he greeted brightly, flicking a brief, almost shy glance down to the cook pot before, inevitably, returning his gaze to Avarice, drawn like a moth to the flame by his fire bright beauty. Gale grinned, gesturing the other over, gesturing him closer. At once, he could feel the angry, burning gaze of the vampire at their back, but he'd long grown accustomed to ignoring that. "I'm making your favorite for dinner." he shared, a proud tilt of his head, "You never told me, but I know. I've studied you in my yearning, after all, and I'm a brilliant student, especially on my favorite subjects." It was always obvious what meals Avarice liked best out of the different things Gale made, and it was no hardship to offer it to him whenever he wanted.

To offer Avarice anything he wanted, whenever he wanted, in fact. One day, Gale would have to bring him to his tower at Waterdeep, where he had more than a few treasures stashed away that he knew would catch the esurient boy's eye - all gold and jewels and sparkling and magical. Avarice would have his pick of the lot. Gale would give anything for him. Tucking that little dream into his memory, another shield against the hopeless feeling of inevitable death, he hummed a happy little noise as he poured a bowl of herbs and spices into the cook pot, another dream of domesticity with his new lover sprouting in his mind - an endless field of flowers, all filled with Avarice.

I'm in love with you. Ava kept hearing those words at the most unexpected moments, playing en loop around his mind all day like an echo in a cave. Worse still, they were occasionally punctuated with his brother's voice making accusations he really didn't feel equipped to think about right now. You're in love with him. Was he? Aud often knew him better than he knew himself, but his head and his heart couldn't come to an agreement. The heart said yes as it thrummed with excitement over receiving the sort of treatment doe-eyed damsels only dreamed about. Meanwhile, the head said fuck no with conviction that would brook no quarter, determined as ever to keep swiftly crumbling walls in tact.

And yet here they were standing over a simmering pot that smelled distinctly and deliciously familiar - his favourite. Much to his mounting confusion, he could feel another stone displaced from the barrier encircling his heart. "That so?" Ava mused as he sidled closer despite himself, drawn in by the welcoming aroma and Gale's hopeful grin alike. "Are all wizards such capable housewives?" A tease, but not a mocking one. Instead, their hand settled at the small of his back in some small gesture of encouragement and remained there despite any better judgement. It was a surprisingly comfortable moment as Gale prattled on, the two of them poised by the cooking pot and pressed close in such blatant intimacy.

"Mm. A bath sounds nice," Ava rumbled his agreement - it'd been too long since any of them had managed much more than hasty washes in nearby lakes or the humble basins in the Last Light Inn. "Maybe I'll take you up on that, if we ever make it to Baldur's Gate." A snort of laughter, "I'm surprised a fancy little mage like you was willing to share a bed last night with the state I came crawling back in. Pretty sure I still have blood in my hair." If his looking glass was anything to go by, there were certainly still streaks of dried crimson colouring snow white strands, not to mention the fresh, wet mess of it come morning before Aud managed to heal away the worst of Astarion's feasting. The wounds themselves were still obvious even now, even somewhat healed over as they were; punctures and scrapes of fangs through flesh evident all over his throat and chest, both bared by the scant cut of his leathers.

Given the expressions of shock and concern on everyone's face - or, well, judgement, but that was just how Lae'zel was - the way they all but limped back into must have been alarming, especially since it was supposed to be just a simple, boring day of forging. How were they supposed to know the forge was protected by an adamantium golem? Needless to say, Audacity was all but drained of magic, Shadowheart had taken a dip in lava, they were collectively out of healing potions, and more than one of them had been knocked out cold - some of them even multiple times. If not for his magical safeguard, his Strength of the Grave, Audacity would be dead right about now, in fact.

Yeah, today had been gods awful.

Everyone had split up near at once, to their tents or to the care of others around the camp, which left Audacity curled up alone at the fire, clumsily doing some alchemy to make at least a few healing potions - enough to guarantee they could make it to some merchant to clear out their inventory. Perhaps a bit too clumsily - still woozy from being knocked out multiple times and exhausted to boot, even with the sun only just now beginning to sink below the horizon - whatever he just mixed together in his pestle puffed out a noxious little cloud that sent him reeling backwards, coughing. Definitely not a healing potion.

Cursing under his breath, he dumped the whole mixture into the flames to get rid of it - a bit dangerous, especially on a day like today when everything went wrong, but nothing exploded, so he'd take it. Flopping back across his sleeping bag with a groan, he blinked up at an upside down Halsin, of course, of all people. "I do know how to make healing potions. I'm not inept." he couldn't help but defend himself from an accusation that hadn't yet came - might not come at all, since Halsin was rather nice, but still.

With a groan that was only partially dramatized, Audacity pushed himself back into sitting position. “Join me.” He cajoled, looking up to Halsin with wide, pleading eyes, “I’m hurt, nearly dying, surely you can take some pity on me?” The bear was seemingly an immovable bulwark in terms of Audacity's flirting - and wasn't that a hit to his ego when it was always so easy with others? - but he found he enjoyed the druid's company even without the promise of late night fun at the end of it. He'd always held a passive interest in nature and the like, but exploring it was never a priority when he had to harness control of his shadow magic and help their little family survive each day. Odd that it took a tadpole to the head and a grand adventure before he finally found time to explore his other interests.

The sorcerer was no weakling nor any blushing nobleman squeamish at the sight of blood. He'd seen the boy fight and knew him capable, knew him talented, knew him impressive to behold with coils of magic cradled in hand or the lash of a clever tongue at any he deemed unworthy of his brother's compassion. All the same, guilt weaved hand-in-hand with want, twisting a mess of knots in the pit of his stomach to behold Audacity so bruised and bloodied. It was a heady mixture of both that drove him toward the campfire when all the rest tucked in for a night's uneasy rest. Hopefully exhaustion would take them soon enough into sleep's gentle embrace - though, selfishly, he would enjoy this moment's privacy for as long as sleep eluded the battered boy.

Of course, it was no surprise to be met at once with the snap of Audacity's wounded pride. I'm not inept. Halsin couldn't help but chuckle, soft and low, as he settled alongside them before the crackling flames. "Only a fool would think that," he assured and knocked a broad shoulder against the boy's with gentle affection. "But only one of us had their ass properly pummeled by a golem this evening. Why don't you let me take the reins with this, hm?" More command than request, spoken with calm authority as he laid a larger hand overtop Audacity's, work-rough and calloused. A hint of his own druidic magic infused his touch, cool as the wash of moonlight above as it flowed between them, soft and soothing, mending a slew of surface cuts and bruises as it passed from limbs to core to fill the boy up.

"Good. Now lie back and rest some," he ordered with a knowing grin, hoping to ease some of that stubbornness, "- and wipe that pout off your mouth, son." Indeed, the boy was young enough for such an endearment. Yet another reason to feign ignorance at all those delicious little comments, all that sweet flirtation heaped on him since their meeting. With age came baggage, and Halsin was weighed down by enough to know better - know better than to drag another down with him, that is, when Audacity could have his pick of any mate and make baggage of his own. It didn't stop him from tapping a pair of roughened fingertips to that pouting bottom lip, but it did assuage the instinct to press those fingers in between, into the heat of that pretty mouth and down the slope of a wet tongue until the boy's throat clenched around him like an eager lover's cunt.

Astarion didn't know how he had managed nearly two and a half centuries without having Avarice's neck to press his lips to and drink from. While he had only had animals to compare, he had to imagine that the warlock was of the finest vintage on offer in more sentient creatures. He'd test it with the blood of their enemies, now that everyone knew his true nature, but he couldn't imagine anyone surpassing Avarice and his rich, dark blood with just a hint of sweetness.

Which was a problem, given he had some suspicion of the other's motives, why he allowed a vampire - even just a spawn - to drink his lifeblood, night in and night out. He knew his brother disapproved, always a scowl on his face come morning when he had to refresh Avarice before their journeys. In fact, he knew at least half the camp disapproved, thinking Astarion should be making do with whatever wildlife he could hunt rather than risk one of their own. And he did still hunt. Much as he enjoyed Avarice's blood the most of his newly varied palate, he couldn't take near as much as he needed to satiate - a limited supply that only made him relish it more.

But no, he did not know Avarice's motives for agreeing, even on days where they snipped and snarked at each other endlessly, and perhaps he would come to regret giving the other something to hold over him, but at the moment? He found he couldn't care less. Shifting, he moved in even closer, careful not to pull his fangs free to early. Gracefully, he straddled one of Avarice's legs, resting his body down against him, a hand moving up to curl in his hair and tug his head a bit more to the side, making himself comfortable and in the process, finding that his knee brushed a half hard cock.

A low rumble of amused noise, though he didn't break the seal of his lips, the sink of his teeth, taking another long drag of that vibrant, delicious blood. Was that it then? Was it truly so simple as lust that prompted Avarice's continued agreeability? If so, that was easy enough to manage and Astarion couldn't entirely blame him. While he'd never seen feeding as something sexy before - difficult to do when holding a squirming rat between his fingers - it was undeniably erotic to have Avarice pinned down beneath him, to breath out against the sensitive skin of his neck while preparing to bite, to feel him tense and relax and sometimes even squirm beneath his grasp, to hear the pulsing, heavy beat of his heart, usually fast, as if high on adrenaline - and lust, apparently.

Astarion would be lying if he hadn't, in the past, slowed the flow of blood he pulled from Avarice's willing veins, just to extend their time together - sip instead of slurp, savor instead of speed. These night time moments were as private as things could get in the midst of a busy camp, and he found that he hoarded them nearly as ferociously as Avarice hoarded gold. When the night was still and silent except for the overwhelmingly lovely sounds of Avarice, the scent of him, the taste of him.

At once, the pace of his drinking slows, a flood turning to a trickle. No reason not to enjoy the moment, after all. The ravenous hunger had been quenched, though a new ember was beginning to burn in the pit of his stomach. Hitching his leg up, he pressed it firmly at the crux of Avarice's thighs, giving him some friction for that little problem of his. A brief, fleeting chagrin as he feels his own cock stir with interest, but it was inevitable when he had such a gorgeous boy reacting beneath him, offering himself up so intimately. A roll of his hips, giving himself the gift of some friction as well, up against the other's thigh, tongue flicking out against his neck - seemingly to catch a drip of blood before it rolled down his neck, moreso to taste the skin that housed all that blood.

Enough to feel his cock stir in these stolen moments of intimacy, too.

Idiot. He could practically hear Aud's voice in his ear, imagined but no less loud, and his brother would be right. What sort of braindead fool got off on being a vampire's nightly meal? Maybe the tadpole situation was worse than they all thought, wriggling around their skulls and munching up all the gray matter that might've stopped him from wanting this - because he did. Fuck, he wanted it. The heat of Astarion's body growing warmer by the moment as he supped on hot, living blood. The weight of that slimmer frame pressed flush against their bulk, tucked in as if their limbs were meant to slot together. The wet, pain-tinged wound at his throat soothed by the purr-like hum of Astarion's feasting. The danger of it all... Maybe that was the most enticing part of all, and the part that truly awoke a yawning hunger of his own, cock half hard and straining against the front of his leathers - straining against the lean thigh pressed right up against it in a way too precise to be accidental.

Ava was hardly in any mood or position to deny him, not when heady bloodloss had him feeling drunk and boneless, all but putty in the vampire's hands - and mouth. Back arched and hips hitched, just barely swallowing the gasp that threatened to betray him as that thigh pressed more firmly against his growing cock, hard and wanting, pulsing like a second heartbeat. Could Astarion hear it? Hear the blood rushing downward and feel the heat of it throughout? Though he was mostly Drow to look at, the fire of the Hells still burned in his veins and he certainly felt hot-blooded now. Their own hands rose to Astarion's hips, slipping up just beneath the hem of his shirt and settling against bare skin at the hem of his pants, fingers curling inward, digging into pale flesh to make marks of their own.

He knew it was wise to end this feast but couldn't deny the twinge of disappointment as he felt those fangs withdraw. The final drag of a tongue over that still bloody wound coaxed a purr of his own, impossible to stifle nor the moan which followed with his mouth agape. And of course, there was Astarion perched overtop him as if utterly unaffected by the situation. As if Ava couldn't see the bulge of his cock tenting already tight pants or felt it pressed against their thigh with each idle rock of the vampire's hips earlier. It wasn't just that, no - the ruffle of once perfect white curls, the flush of a pale face, the blown wide state of red eyes all but swallowed in black, the frilled fabric of his stupid, fancy little shirt all askew. Gods, it was the hottest thing they'd ever seen. An already sinfully pretty elf made all the prettier by those hints of genuine pleasure and the disarray it inspired.

"Could be better," Ava snarked back, both a petty tease and a promise of what could follow. Fingertips dug deeper, doubtlessly bruising the soft flesh beneath as he got a proper hold on Astarion's hips and used that grip to rock them in a slow back and forth, grinding the pretty thing down against his broader thigh. "Unless you're too afraid to get dirty, Princess," he teased without the usual bite of their back and forths but a grin no less snarling, teeth bared. "Can't have you ripping this pretty shirt -" a hand relinquished its hold on Astarion's hip to tug at the neck of said shirt, no longer as stark white as it'd been at the start of their adventure, and would be even less soon if Ava had his way. Another tug, fingers catching and curling at flimsy laces that loosened like a barmaid's blouse - or a noblewoman's, he'd guess, but he'd never had the pleasure of fucking any of those no matter how many had eyed him with hungry interest while clutching their uptight husband's arm.

Halsin, the babe, the husband, the love of my life, forever

// explicit

Audacity, for once, didn't even bothering saying anything, even when his brother got close enough to hear him. He didn't have to when he and Ava had a language all their own. It only took a slightly quirked brow and a twitch of the mouth and Ava knew that Audacity was laughing at him, even if not aloud. That didn't mean he would keep his mouth shut forever - the opportunity for teasing was ripe, after what he just witnessed. "Well, well, well, I suppose you have a type - hungry. At least the vampire only takes your blood, and not all our magical relics."

Gale, even with one of his pretentious tomes open in front of him, was seemingly unable to resist glancing up at Ava, little glances, over and over again. No surprise given the loving moon eyes he'd been making while talking to him. Audacity slanted the wizard a glare, just because he wanted to and watched him fluster and look back down at his reading - all it had taken was one passing obnoxious comment about sorcerers versus wizards and Audacity had brusquely decided to hate him forever.

Talking to him after that hadn't warmed him to the man either - he was the most long winded, oblivious bastard in the realm, which honestly just made it funnier that he'd all but made a move on Ava by pressing in close to show him whatever magic they'd been messing around with. Audacity was left sprawled across one of the logs around camp - he'd started sitting up, waiting to speak to his brother, but instead found himself waiting while Gale talked and talked and talked. Now, he deigned to move his legs enough to give Ava room to sit, only to plop them in his lap afterwards, shifting about until he was comfortable, even with bark digging into his back - not the biggest fan of camping, but it was more comfortable than some of the other places they'd slept.

A click of his tongue, "I think little Asty might regret playing hard to get now." Or whatever it was that he and Ava were doing with each other - whatever it was, sexual tension had been high. And while Astarion wasn't showing it at the moment, Audacity hadn't been the only one glaring at their resident wizard as he wasted Ava's time. He imagined his and Astarion's reasons for irritation were very different though. "Please don't make me deal with the wizard as a brother in law. Fuck the vampire instead." he nearly begged, mostly joking. Ava may have more tolerance for Gale and his nonsense, but Audacity doubted it was enough tolerance to deal with him constantly. "Don't let him grow on you, please. He's certainly as appealing as some clinging mold and he'd love to be all over you like one. Ugh. Gods, I did not need that mental image. The thing with the Loviatar priest was bad enough."

"Shut up," Ava snapped as he drew within earshot of his brother, as if there was any hope of that. Sure enough, Aud held his tongue for a grand total of seconds before it clearly because too torturous to bear. Newly mismatched eyes rolled, lips pursed, but there was no denying the flush of heat at his cheeks. "Hells, we were just talking. You're acting like he whipped out a wedding ring - or his cock." They snorted, just imagining the horror on Aud's face if it'd been either, even as their own teasing was belief by that traitorous bit of colour at their cheeks.

Gale was a pretentious loudmouth, but he was a good person. So good. Too good, really, for somebody who'd grown up in the gutters of society scrabbling for scraps without the luxury of a stringent moral compass to direct them. He'd probably balk when they spoke too crass in public or wore something too scandalous or, gods forbid, picked a fight with every ignorant noble who ran their mouth at a servant. Maybe if not... No, that was the Weave talking, filling Ava's brain up with a thick, sweet fog and muddling everything up inside like the wizard himself had fingers in his head. That and those big, hopeful puppy dog eyes it'd be impossible to miss still flitting up at him from across camp.

Speaking of eyes - Aud wasn't wrong. One curious glance was enough to spy Astarion's own narrowed gaze locked in on a fresh target. If Gale noticed the scrutiny he certainly didn't show it, glancing only between the tome still steepled elegantly in hand and at Avarice now lounging atop the same log as his brother. There was a small cliff face nestled behind said log that plunged their modest camp into its ravine, and he leaned back against it with long legs kicked out before him - the picture of a man who knew to appear careless when he very much wasn't, as if he didn't give a shit where a certain vampire was looking or what might be inspiring that scowl on such a pale, pretty face. An arm draped over Aud's legs, head tipped back against the rock, looking up at the same stars both Gale and Astarion had called so beautiful out here in the untouched wilderness.