volothamp geddarm stole my car

fucking weirdos (endearingly)

And not an hour or two of play later, learned that the orb - if left untreated too long - causes him constant pain, muscle spasms and disorientation. Gale and Tara did not immediately figure out how to treat his condition, which meant that he likely spent weeks or months in that state - and of course, whenever the orb acts up, he goes through it again. He probably endures it constantly through the end of act 1, after his treatment stops working.

Constitution, of course, is that the stat that represents ability to focus while being hurt. Endurance even after physical distress. Pain tolerance.

[...] all Gale can think about when he sees it is how he’d stood in this exact spot after he’d been cursed with the orb. How he’d stared, equal parts dumbstruck and mortified, at the freshly placed burn on his chest. The bruise in the center hadn’t yet had time to form, then. It raised and blistered aggressively over the following days, adding another layer to the pain and confusion that already addled his heart and mind. To see it after it’d healed, the perfectly formed lines of it — it almost felt like a brand. An artistic rendition of his folly, embedded into his skin forever.  As he stares at it now, he realizes that feeling has never gone away. 

» Somatic (Chapter One) by @illithiddies

companion of the week.

Bloodweave ◾ 2/5 Chapters, 12k ◾ Rated M

Tags: Established Relationship, Post-game, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Vampire Spawn Astarion, Non-God Gale, Marriage Proposal, Domestic Fluff, Festivals, Chronic Illness, "Came Back Wrong" trope

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, Body horror

A few months after their party’s victory over the Absolute, Gale works with Astarion towards a cure for his vampirism. Both time and options have been steadily dwindling. When the moment of truth arrives to put their last hope to the test, it’s with the resounding chime of a clock striking midnight, a wild hope in Gale’s heart, and a fleeting fear in Astarion’s eyes. Please, Gale hopes, pleads. Just this once. This one thing, above all others. The powers that be seem to disagree. In fact, they may have seen fit to make the situation worse. Much worse.

Naoise Nallinto: The all-being. Here, there is no suffering. Here, you want for nothing. Here, you are anything. You have one word. Tell me: what will you be?

DARK_URGE: Sane. Naoise Nallinto: You are sane. Time dances on in sequence, the winding path of time evens, and becomes straight. With a quiet head, you can once again hear the song of the birds and the wind in the grass. You pluck a flower, and it does not bleed.

SHADOWHEART: Whole. Naoise Nallinto: You are whole. Within and without, free from expectation and the crushing burden of solitude.You are the entirety of you. Every path outward leads to adventures yet unknown. Every path inward leads to dreams eternally fulfilled.

ASTARION: Safe. Naoise Nallinto: You are safe. The winds of fate blow you to the warmest of hearths in the most cordial of inns. Your seething passions lead only to pleasure. The touch of the sun comforts your flesh, but never burns it.

KARLACH: Alive. Naoise Nallinto: You are alive. Your senses vibrate with sensation - smell, taste, touch, sound, sight. All alert to the beauty of now. The sound of your heart - your heart - beats a steady rhythm: Hello, hello, hello.

GALE: Wise. Naoise Nallinto: You are wise. The erudition of the ages flows through you and from you, illuminating the scholars who seek your counsel. You know yourself, for such is the beginning of all wisdom. When souls would drink the waters of learning, you are their font.

WYLL: Free. Naoise Nallinto: Then be free. You are an eagle, the most divine of messengers, soaring above the peak of Mount Sundabar. No man or woman, no devil or demon, no goddess or god dares confine you within one border or one creed.