#ofweave

It was a long fall from the top of Ramazith tower.

Rolan's hands still shook with the thunderwave and his breathing was too heavy in his own ears.

He's killed pests and monsters for the odd bit of coin with Cal and Lia. He stood with other citizens in Elturel against Zariel's forces.

Lorroakan was a monster in title, but still just a man. Rolan's never killed a person.

There's a bit of a blur between the scream, dull thud, silence and Rolan is sitting in a chair with a cup of tea in his hands and the wizard... @ofweave, "Ex-chosen." Lorroakan had been quick to correct Rolan when he'd brought up Gale once before to his mentor.

"there are things i regret that i’d still do all over again" Gale had said it while tucking the cup of tea against his palm.

@ofweave sent : ❛ you walk a fine line between beautifully macabre and uncharacteristically psychotic, you know that? ❜

SAYS THE WIZARD WHO SEEMED TO BE CONTEMPLATING BLOWING HIMSELF TO SMITHEREENS - Astarion files that away for another day & instead manages a half smile , a brief flash of pointing teeth. "Why thank you - it's an art , really" HE'D HAD TWO HUNDRED YEARS TO LEARN , after all and there becomes a certain moment where lines grow thinner and thinner by the day ; the question really , was when he might accidentally cross it.

"However given our circumstances , i'd say macabre and psychotic are just what we need right about now." BETWEEN THE STEEL WATCH, Mystra, Shar , Larroakan , Gortash , Orin , Cazador and more ; well , Astarion hardly expected for them to walk out of this all with their hands clean. He might even be sorely disappointed if they did. The campfire flickers a few feet from them , and he turns his gaze back to Gale. "You have to admit. As loathsome as this all is - there's a certain relief to being back within the city walls."

 a true statement, perhaps a bit understated. not that it was of any concern to him … or it was ? no - not the word choice, but the fact his entire body was nearly drenched in the viscous fluid. that was of some concern. none of it was his, mind you, but such a thing would only raise more questions than provide answers. and he was not in quite the right state to provide much of anything. the man’s words barely garnered a response from the knight whose eyes were wide and darting ( seeing all yet nothing ).

 so much noise in the grove. so many scents, too, but those were all engulfed by saccharine iron. metallic. a soft hum reverberated deep within his chest. almost as if savoring. it was still on his tongue, between his teeth. their flesh and blood. vile creatures. at least their life had purpose in continuing what had already ended; what was enduring. yet, their siren song persisted in his mind and the gleeful joy in luring a child to a watery grave gripped his heart. -- they were not his. the memories, emotions. a ramification in taking the lifeblood from thinking creatures ( no matter how rudimentary ). it made it hard for himself to deliberate and act accordingly. all temporary but he had not allocated enough time for such effects to run their course. instead, his body reacted to the singular strand of thought of his that prevailed through the chaos: mirkon. the desire in seeing the child safe.

 it is what drew him back up the hill where he happened upon the wizard ( or did they happen upon him as fumbling as he was ? ). as blood-haze receded, a scent flowing strong with the weave and carrying a hint of brine snapped his attention back into focus. gale -- yes, gale. eyes were upon him now like a beacon as pax gathered his wits before giving a response in a breathless yet terse manner, ❝ harpies. ❞

it isn't the offering itself that she's wary of, it's...the rest. it looks like stew, much like what they've been eating all this time. looks, and yet...it must be different, if he's asking her to give it a try. a mental calculation commences, swift as the wind, though her face remains mild, serene. what have they acquired recently? what herbs, what plants, what odd assortments of meat and vegetables?

she takes the bowl, peering down at the contents with curiously quirked brow. surreptitiously she tilts it, trying to eye the contents. breathes in the steam less out of enjoyment of scent than in an attempt to divine what had gone into it. no distrust lingers in the actions - - there is no part of her that thinks that gale would ever poison her with a bowl of stew in camp - - but...well, she has been alive too long to eat just anything.

@ofweave

A gasp of shock and Hyra claps a hand over her nose. She's unsuccessfully dodged her favorite wizard's boop.

She'll never recover.

@ofweave said: “sometimes i wonder what’s going on in that head of yours.”

EPIC: The Musical