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Quiet is what you needed tonight - you'd decided that hours ago, practically the moment the day had started. Still not managing to get a complete night of sleep and increasingly unable to silence the depraved thoughts in your mind, just an hour beside the water of this camp before the adventure continued on tomorrow would have done you some good.
At least that was the conclusion you'd come to for yourself. Fate seemed to have other plans for your time, however.
Or perhaps it was the will of one singular man.
“I have noticed you often skip over introductions…”
There was something soothing about his voice that even you were not immune too, his gentle nature balancing your violent one like cool waters on a raging flame. If it was going to be anyone interrupting your alone time now, it was befitting to be him, at least. If it had been anyone else, who knows what the consequences could've been.
“Please, not now.”
Your voice was marred with the kind of pain he was familiar with - ever-present, unignorable. Spoken through gritted teeth, your lack of patience was evident in every syllable. He'd never tell you he pitied you, but that didn't make the statement true.
“Forgive my insistence…” his dulcet tone filled your ears like the flow of a river, sustaining and forever. If his words could replace the urges perhaps some of your problems would subside. “But if not now, then when? We can all tell you’re avoiding something. Wyll and I agree that -“
“It is wonderful to hear I am the topic of camp gossip."
“It’s not like that,” you didn't know previously that one human could sound so believable - so honest. Though some of your other companions had taken him hiding his condition as a lie you never had, understanding his reasoning and trusting him through it all. You had no reason not to trust him now. “We care. For you. I care for you a great deal. I see how it…whatever it is…wounds you and festers at your soul each time we are somewhere new.”
“What is your point?”
The defense mechanism like a rose's thorns - if they didn't get close enough they couldn't be hurt, and your sharp demeanor was without a doubt a way of keeping everyone far enough away from you to keep their blood from spilling.
Gale, with increasing insistence of late, seemed determined to feel the softness you could offer too - he could see it in the depths of your eyes, just within his reach. He'd not stop until he earned the chance to be delicate with you.
“That I want to know you,” even now he was so delicate - had anyone ever been so with you before? “That I want to help.”
You could've drowned in the pools of sincerity in his eyes.
It had been hard to hide Alfira, and even harder since not to come clean to Gale - with each passing moment it was increasingly difficult to ignore the new urge that had formed within your being, a new desire that influenced your decisions. You craved something you were almost certain was new - connection - and you yearned for it with him.
Honesty was the first step - in these things, it always was. With Gale, you were fortunate to have seen in the darkness that festered within him when he allowed you a glimpse at the Orb, feeling the familiarity of a deep abyss. Though you were quite certain the darkness within you was much worse, much more primal and instinctual in ways he could never be, it was some comfort that he could look at you like this now - sweating, shaking, and neglecting to give his words a fitting response - and hardly bat an eye.
But how long would that be the case if you opted for complete honesty, and at this point could you even stop it? If allowing him to see into the void was inevitable, why deny what came closer with each tick of a clock?
A deep breath prepared your lungs for speaking truths into the night that you wished to keep buried in the depths of your wretched, dark heart.
“You've heard me introduce myself as The Dark Urge. That is all I can remember of myself. I crave murder and death and…corpses. Piles of my victims bruised and bloody displayed like a museum…crimson pools running warm then cold…"
Your words trailed as you clenched your eyelids tight, your nails beginning to dig into the tops of your thighs, seeking the focus that sharp pain would bring - so deep that blood quickly began to paint the tips of your fingers and your thighs.
You often felt Gale's bravery was to be commended, far more than it was by your companions. He'd never seen combat, never needed to face violence head on and take it for what it was. And yet, despite his inexperience he was still fearless with you, one of his gentle hands reaching out to lightly rest atop your shoulder.
Taken off guard your nails stopped their assault on your own skin, eyes wide as your puzzled face met his - patient, understanding, eyes soft and lips pressed into a thoughtful line as he awaited you to fully return to yourself.
"But though my mind is overrun with voids and seldom dreams up more than pools of blood…I want to be more than that. I think I am more than that…or that I once was, perhaps.”
It felt wrong to speak against the Urges, like you were lying to yourself and pretending to be someone your instincts proved you weren't, but it was the truth - it was you, no matter how deep within you had to pull it from. Gale, no stranger to darkness within and the chasm of emotions it could construct in one's heart, recognized how hard it must be for you to be vulnerable - after all, he had been in that very position merely days ago.
“I think you’re more than that already, despite everything. And if you disagree then we shall work together to make you see yourself the way I do."
Every sentence he spoke was saturated in a promise renewed with each word. You could feel the pull of your eyebrows coming together tighter, an expression that would do nothing to aid the headache that raged within your skull, but the only one your face could settle on as you pondered what you'd done to deserve such a kindness.
If you did even deserve it.
"I’ll help you. Through any urge along the way, say the word and I am at your side."
You remained utterly speechless under the power of his words, your expression still every bit as pained and puzzled than it had been when he first interrupted your time alone. What bravery it took - the same echoed now as his hand covered yours atop one of your thighs, the warmth seeping into you, wrapping you like a blanket during shock.
A quiet sigh passed your lips, defeated and communicating so much more than what your words could. A gentle squeeze to your hand, the softening of his eyes - you'd not be surprised if this was some sort of spell, if you didn't know better.
“I just don’t know how many more people I can introduce myself to this way,” as you finally met his eyes in full he was struck by the sight of tears sparkling in your eyes, the façade abandoned allowing him to hear the shake to your voice as your breathing picked up. “You apologized for your improper introduction, yet it is I who can’t even remember something as fundamental as my name. I know I have one, I can feel the echo of it in my mind…but it's just not there. Or perhaps I was a monster never deserving of one.”
For all of your companions' issues, Gale knew that what you faced was unlike anything any of them could relate to. Being unable to remember something as basic as your name and only experiencing your past in bloody glimpses of wicked memories - there was nothing he could say, so instead he listened.
"And I worry that I will hurt one of you," each word pained you more than the last, each one adding to the risk that he would leave - that he would come to his senses and see you for what you were. He certainly seemed to be trying, judging by the intensity with which he continued to gaze into your eyes. "That I'll hurt…you, Gale. I don't want to hurt you."
Sympathy - feelings of pity or sorrow for someone else's misfortune. You could see it filling his eyes as he squeezed your hand again, moving closer without hesitation so his free hand could raise to your face. He caught a freshly falling tear with his thumb, a delicate touch you recoiled from, your eyes wild with question and panic for a moment before they glazed over, warming under his touch though you remained so frozen you weren't breathing.
Sympathy was joined by patience and hope in his eyes, and he waited, hoping. Unimposing and unintimidating, free of judgment - willing to be so until you gave a sign to be anything otherwise.
A stiff nod was good enough.
His hand cupped your cheek fully, the feeling of your skin against his always enough to bring the softest of smiles to his face, no matter how fleeting it was. Cherishing the new feeling for a moment he did little more than that beyond the gentle stroke of his thumb across your cheek for several moments.
No monster he had read of melted so under the touch of a human - leaning into his touch further, you continued to prove he was right about you.
"We all have monsters inside of us. That doesn't mean it's who we are," admittedly, it was hard for even him to find the right words right now - particularly with his focus on you, the warmth of your skin against his hand, the way your jaw was unclenching and your features calming. A quick glance confirmed you no longer clutched your leg, and for a moment your hands were not shaking - because of him. "And it's not who I think you are. No matter what your name is, no matter who you once were: I see you."
A sentiment echoed in your mind - had you ever been cared for like this? Whatever the truth to that question was, you could feel how addicting it could be to be soothed by him.
“You must be tired,” it was a lazy - and obvious - interruption, a distraction from falling much further into his delicate grasp, parts of your mind still fighting against vulnerability, an instinct that had probably always been within you not to trust trying to set you on edge again. “I don’t want to keep you from rest.”
If he was aware of the hint you dropped in trying to return yourself to solitude, he opted to ignore it - not out of disrespect for your wishes but in hope you'd change your mind, hoping his presence could offer an enticing alternative.
If offering his presence to you would bring you any amount of comfort, he had to try. If it meant he'd have to bashfully ask Shadowheart for healing before sleep found him - so be it.
“Your company is well worth a little less sleep,” he desperately hoped you wouldn't mind that he was trying to lighten the mood - when your features curled into the slightest smile, he decided it was actually what you needed. Whatever you needed of him, whenever you needed it. How funny his very soul had adopted that new mantra so fast. “Or a lot, depending on the evening’s activities. I'd be grateful to enjoy your company a while longer, if mine isn't unwanted."
Your smile spread a bit more, cheeks heating up over his flirtations, your heart fluttering faster in your chest as you avoided his gaze briefly, taking the steady breath your lungs had been begging for, repeating it once more for measure. He matched the second with you - just another way to show he was here with you, supporting you.
Even still, you could only nod your response for fear of the words that may leave your mouth if you opened it.
The thing about Gale - the thing that made it more near impossible with each day he displayed it - was that as much as he loved to tell you what he could offer you he loved to show you even more, even if it meant sitting in complete silence for the next couple of hours. The time passed calmly with him beside you like this, offering you a pillar of strength to lean yourself upon in both a figurative and literal sense, his warm hold irresistible.
He accepted you leaning your head against his shoulder as quietly as you offered it, wordlessly deepening the embrace by wrapping an arm around you. If that was all that was offered you'd not hear a complaint from him, the gentle affection more than enough to fill his stomach with butterflies and heart with what he hesitated to call love.
When one of your hands lifted to rest on his thigh, the hesitation was gone. Love - at its most basic definition, an intense feeling of deep affection. How could he even attempt to describe the way he felt toward you with any other word, not yet finding one in the many books throughout his life that would describe the feeling nestled in his chest as sufficiently.
The sun sparkling against the water turned to stars dancing across its surface instead, the noise of your companions behind you fading as what was clearly hours passed. Your eyes had been closed for a while now, so long that you didn't notice - or at least didn't move - when Wyll had approached with food, unknowing that Gale silently waved him off.
There would be food in the morning, his stomach could wait if that was the sacrifice for your comfort. Comfort which he hated to disrupt - though after a while, the hard ground was far too unkind to his aching joints.
"Are you ready to try for some rest?"
Your eyes opened and you twisted your head to look behind you, at the very companions who were now settling onto their own bedrolls or into their tents for the night. Even in the dim light he could see the trepidation in your face, sense the tension thickening the air around you again.
How desperately he wished to resolve it, offering the only solution his heart could think of before his mind could catch up.
"Perhaps alone tonight…in my tent, beside me?"
The Wizard of Waterdeep blushed the moment the proposition left his mouth, and you'd fallen for him all over again. You nodded, and in that moment gave him everything he needed as a thank you from you.
You were both exhausted, so the motions of returning to Gale's tent blurred together - he stood first, offering his hand to you and pulling you to your feet, hand staying in yours as you walked through camp. He shot Astarion a look of warning when the Pale Elf raised his eyebrow when you walked past, entering Gale's tent without a word.
Explanations would certainly be expected in the morning, a fact made clear by the vampire's expression as Gale collected your bedroll before joining you in the solitude of his tent, closing the flap to separate the two of you for a while. Soon enough, you'd both found what felt at least a little like a word that made you both feel sick for profoundly different reasons - home - as you lay beside one another.
It was a longing gaze - you were desperate to hold his eyes in the hopes you'd see them tonight in your dreams rather than debauched things you hoped weren't memories, while he was desperate to memorize your face as he remained ever-aware of the looming apocalypse in his own chest.
A pair of your hands met between your bodies, his resting atop yours, calming the subtle and ever-present shake. Thumb brushing against your knuckles, he lulled you back into a subdued state, happily indulging you when you asked him to tell you a bedtime story from Waterdeep.
Though he spoke, he was the one to drift off first, blissfully so beside you. No matter how safe it felt to be beside Gale, no matter how much warmth filled every bone in your body - sleep would still avoid you for a while yet, and you'd be left with your thoughts and his sleeping form.
As the night continued to grow darker, as would your heart — if you even had one — and mind. It was dangerous to tempt nature like this, a steak dangled on a stick before a wolf. He would make the prettiest corpse - his own blood would paint his skin like the fine canvas it was and you'd view it as the exhibit it was, art in a museum entirely curated for you. How beautiful he would look, how sublime, how utterly delicious…
Ultimately, the urge to see him lying beneath you as a beautiful, wide-eyed body was quieter than the urge to see his eyes honey in the fire and the tousle of his morning hair as he passed you breakfast, expression eager to see your reaction to a meal prepared by him. You'd sooner remove your own hands before you used them to hurt him.
Seeing his chest rise and fall as he slept tonight and hearing the ring of his laughter tomorrow was worth far more than anything your sick mind tried to force you to see.