The ache in his chest was something he had gotten quite used to. What would be a dull throb in the mornings grew into a ravenous, burning monster as its hunger grew; Gale was often left out of breath, the feeling of something so terribly hungry crushing his heart and lungs, his mind panicking as he fought against the once unfamiliar sensation.
When the others glanced back at him, he'd give an embarrased little smile - It wasn't as though he was the most in shape amongst their friends. A year in a tower, plus a life of softness, led to quite a softer figure. But it wasn't as though he could say, "No, I'm not out of breath from casting a spell. It is the bomb in my chest that's trying to eat me."
Gale could see in Tav's eyes the little look of disappointment whenever they handed over a magical artifact. It didn't compare to the disappointment of Gale when the hunger barely abated as he devoured the essence of Weave in whatever shitty little artifact he pressed to his chest.
It was one of the nights, where not even the allure of a good book, something Tav had grabbed in their exploits and handed to him with a small smile, could distract him from the pain. It was unfair - He had devoured quite the artifact earlier that morning, and yet the orb in his chest demanded more.
He sat by the fire, pretending to read the book in his hands. The goblet of wine by his feet laid untouched, the taste of it overwhelming bitter. When he had swallowed but a sip, Gale could feel the anger of the Orb; How dare you consume something so impure! Vile! The ache in his chest had grew, cutting off his lungs and squeezing his heart, and he fought to carefully set down the cup, as to not alert the others.
Shadowheart and Lae'zel sat opposite of him, a heated arguement or another feuled by the Shadowheart's truly baffling intake of wine and Lae'zel's general... self. Wyll, Karlach, and Tav sat with the owlbear cub, who Tav had claimed the honor of simply naming Cubby, and Scratch, who was in a very heated game of fetch with Halsin, who looked half-interested in catching the ball himself.
Astarion... Gale frowned. He hadn't actually seen Astarion since the party returned to camp, victorious in their dungeon delving once more. He was often sat around Tav or even Shadowheart, indulging in the wine that he had once, bitterly, told Gale tasted like nothing more than rot and vinegar. But tonight, beneath the cloudless sky, Astarion was nowhere to be seen.
Gale tried not to let it concern him; It wasn't as though Astarion was known for his openness, but perhaps it was because of that, that his lack of presence made Gale feel iffy. Astarion had moved, just a bit slow enough to draw Gale's masterful eye towards him. He was of course aware of the situation between Tav and the resident vampire, but something in the dull eyes of Astarion made him think that the elf hadn't been taking as advantage of it as he should.
Gale pursed his lips, setting down his book. No matter. He'd take care of the issue. With the group progressively closer to the Underdark, which might be the safer choice in comparison to the Mountain Pass but still not safe, it was important that everyone was in tip-top shape.
No one paid him any mind as Gale shakingly got to his feet; The mouthful of wine he had all but spat out had no effect on him, but the others didn't need to know that his sway was caused by the piercing agony in his chest. A glance at Astarion's dark tent let him know he wasn't there, but Gale was not dismayed. He knew the vampire often forayed into the forest, perhaps in search of food or just to get away from the general rowdiness of the camp.
And in the forest indeed did Gale find him. Hunched over on his knees, Astarion made a rasping sound, apparently not having noticed Gale's tramping about - A whole new reason for concern, since the pain was such a ball of focus in the back of Gale's mind that he couldn't bother to keep his foot steps light even if he wished to.
Between Astarion's hands laid a rat, who despite it's limp posture, made a weak squeaking sound. Astarion stared at it, and Gale oculd see just the hint of wetness on his lips, glinting in the moonlight. Not red; Clear, just a hint of drool as Astarion stared down at the meal on the ground.
Gale cleared his throat, unable to take the stalemate any longer. Astarion's head snapped towards him and with a jolt, Gale could see a glimmer in Astarion's eyes, a dampness that made him feel weak in the knees and his heart throb painfully in something other than the crushing of his chest.
"Playing with your food, Astarion? Thought you were better than that." Gale kept his voice light, trying not to spare a glance at the rat. He wasn't a fan of them; God knows Tara, the damn beauty, hunted enough of the rats in his tower that he got used to seeing the rodents in all sorts of dismal states, but the pain in both Astarion and the rat's eyes made him feel some sort of way.
There was a scoff. Astarion sat back on his hunches, his dirtied hands resting on his thighs. The moonlight set his white hair aglow, his normally sallow skin having a hint of life under the radiance. It casted a light on the scars on Astarion's neck, which strained as the vampire seemed at war with himself. The rat seemed to take it as a queue to flee, and with a speed otherwise betrayed by it's pitiful state, streaked off into the night.
Gale frowned. "Didn't mean to scare off your meal." At the lack of sound, or acknowledgement really, from the elf, he stepped closer into the light.
Astarion opened his eyes slowly, staring up at him. If his eyes had been dull throughout the day, they were all but lifeless now. His breathing was labored and Gale realized why; Astarion was starving.
"You haven't been eating," Gale accused. "Why? Is Tav's blood not good enough for you? Are the scoundrels we kill not to your liking?" Gale didn't know why he was so angry; Perhaps it was seeing someone who was normally so haughty and high and mighty, on his knees in such a state of hunger he'd drool over a rat.
Astarion winced as though Gale's words hurt him. "I... I simply haven't found the opportunity, that's all. All the beasts in the forest seem to have realized there's a monster on the loose; It's getting harder to hunt more filling meals. And..."
The next words were so quiet Gale almost couldn't make them out.
"I don't want to go back to eating rats."
Gale pretended not to hear it; Astarion had not been open with the other members as he had been with Tav. Gale knew the quick and dirty details, of course. A spawn of a cruel vampire master, a slave. Forced to endure horrid torture and abuse for centuries. But Gale was arguably the least favored of the vampire, and he doubted that the other male would appreciate Gale asking him all the details of his horrid past.
"Has Tav not offered you their neck recently?" Gale asked, stepping just a bit closer. Astarion's gaze turned hard as he glared.
"You needn't make it sound like I'm just using darling Tav! Perhaps if you cared to know, they've been getting awfully close to Wyll and Karlach. I," Astarion mumbled, "Didn't want to overstep more than I have." His gaze turned moody and somber, his eyes turning downwards towards his dirtied hands. He twisted his palms up and Gale could see the scratches and blood; Undoubtedly from where he had struggled to catch a rat of all things, another sign of his weakness.
Gale pursed his lips. He knew, of course, that everyone had camp had their issues and it was unfair of them to treat Astarion with the level of distrust they had. Gale would be first to admit that the sight of Astarion's fangs had sent shivers up his spine when they first found out. But Astarion had been nothing but respectful, if annoying; Never bared his fangs at anyone undeserving.
An idea formed in his head, something he would later blame on the nonexistent wine in his system.
He sighed and stepped closer til he in front of the pale elf. Astarion stared up at him, curiosity and confusion warring with the distrust and perhaps fear in his eyes.
"Feast on me. I doubt my blood will taste like anything exquisite, given the current state of my being but, if you're so hesitant on drinking from Tav and there's no other sources of food," Gale said simply. He held out a hand to Astarion, who's lip curled at the sight. The elf refused his grasp and stumbled to his feet dazedly, his red eyes narrowed at Gale in offense.
"I do not need your pity, dear old wizard. Save it for someone who doesn't know you're a fool," Astarion's words cut bitterly to Gale, who was equally offended by the lack of flair to Astarion's words as he was the harshness. He really must be hungry in that case.
Gale scoffed. "Pity? Pity is much different from sympathy, friend. I know hunger too. You've been slow and weak recently. You tripped over a trap even I saw today and almost killed yourself and the rest of us. You're the fool if you think your hunger only affects yourself."
The tangent was perhaps a bit uncalled for, but Gale felt feisty tonight. Astarion shuffled on his feet a bit, his gaze defeated. Gale felt something in him, other than the actual orb of pure magic eating at him, stir at the sight. Gale sighed.
"Believe me, I doubt you'll enjoy this anymore than I will. Just, don't kill me? Because then you'll probably kill everyone here and that's just a hassle." Gale plopped down on the ground, his lungs grateful for the break. He could feel Astarion's gaze on him, but his eyes remained close. He, admittedly tauntedly, strained his head forward to reveal the length of his neck.
There was no warning as he felt twin fangs sink into his neck; He hadn't even heard Astarion move. There was a sharp pain, not unlike when he got his ears pierced, that quickly dulled to an ache. He could feel the wetness of Astarion's mouth on his neck, the pulsing as he sucked at the blood. Overall, despite the ache, the sensation wasn't entirely unpleasant. Gale let him drink until he felt his head grow heavy, and he reached up to tap at Astarion sluggishly.
There was a pause and Gale felt a tad bit of worry when Astarion didn't immediately unlatch. Then, he felt the fangs retract from his neck as Astarion sluggishly lapped at the twin pricks on his neck, cleaning the blood.
There was silence as Gale struggled to keep his head straight and Astarion, for the first time in days, had a light to his eyes.
"You're right. Your bloody tastes dastardly."
Gale let out an unbelieving laugh, surprise and the dizziness of blood loss coming together, making it seem like the whole situation was a lot funnier than it was.
It wasn't as funny when he felt Astarion grab the collar of his sleep shirt and yank him towards him. Gale didn't move as Astarion placed one, small, gentle kiss to the corner of his lip.
"I think I could grow to like it, though."
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