divinestrike | Overflow / Open Post

If we’re both still alive, mind, Gale thinks, and almost says, the words tripping blithely off his tongue — but thankfully he manages to avert his blabbermouth in the very nick of time. It’s a blessing, occasionally, that Nepione’s bardic spells are so scattershot and she isn’t able to detect his thoughts. He’s too accustomed to shoving his foot firmly in his mouth even at the best of times.

“Ah, well, then I can blather on for the both of us,” he says warmly. “I don’t know what everyone else’s plans are, but with you? Of course. Anytime. I know it was blind circumstance that initially threw us together, but I enjoy your company, and it’s far preferable to the empty road or an empty tower. You make an unbearable situation bearable. After all our group has been through together, I can’t imagine simply— parting ways, toodle-oo, so long and thanks for all the tadpoles, immediately haring off in opposite directions the first moment we can. Perhaps I’m just a sentimental fool, but.”

"You make an unbearable situation bearable."

Those words bounced around in her head for a few moments, lingering, touching, weighted. Sweet. The kinds of words that only continued to make her nervous through no one's fault but her own. That was what she'd wanted to do, of course. To make things bearable. Enjoyable. Comfortable.

Clearing her throat, she released a soft laugh. "I'm not sure how much the others might say the same, but I can understand the feeling. I'm a bit sentimental myself. I didn't imagine travelling with anyone, but I don't dislike the idea."

Looking at him a little more closely, as if she was still giving his offer consideration, the cleric finally nodded. "Very well, then. At the end of all of this, provided things end favourably, we'll travel together. We can do whatever you'd like. Whatever we'd like. I'm not sure I could ask for better company. Even if he does seem to be remarkably good at flustering me."

Said the woman who was likely too easily flustered in general.

Gale brightened when she finally accepted. “Well! Then you’re in good company. We’ll both be flustered messes.”

He had been the one making the offer, technically, but this was a lifeline for him, too: imagining a potential future for himself. Daring himself to make actual plans with someone, rather than seeing nothing else for himself but eventually dying in a conflagration. (Divination magic wasn’t his specialty, and even then, he’d been too nervous to peer into a sliver of the future. Too worried that he would try and only see blank black emptiness. A dead end.)

So he took a deep breath, and extended one hand for a formal handshake. “It’s an agreement, then. A sacred compact.”

As he grasped her palm again, she could feel that hand wasn’t rough from wielding heavy swords or axes or pulling bowstrings; instead there’s a knobbly writer’s callus on one finger, and a few healed burns from errant fire spells gone awry. The physical marks of a wizard’s life lived.

“And it’s good,” he said, “to have something to look forward to.”

It didn’t even need to be a grand promise or a great expectation. Just a good friend, by his side. That was enough, and more than what he’d had before.

"That we will," she murmured softly, though wondered if it was only more enjoyable to catch him unawares than it was for her to be in the self-same situation.

Nepione watched as he offered his hand and as they touched, hand to hand, she committed it to memory. The first time had been an idle fancy. Fleeting time where she had not thought so much on it. This one would have to be something considerably more of import. A memory made as much as it was a contract of sorts. Or perhaps it was merely her own sentimentality that bid her to do such a thing.

"A sacred compact."

His words lingered and stained in a beautiful way as she acquainted herself more properly with what she could glean from the simple act of his hand, something she suspected she'd never given much thought to. Perhaps because it was a rarity that another sought to touch her, aside from the tiefling heart that was all too soft.

Something in his words made her smile and she found herself squeezing his hand with both mirth and reassurance. "Have faith. There are a great many things to look forward to. Not only our adventures. The taste of freedom. A destiny that you will be able to guide and direct as you have want to. I will do all I can to see you prosper."

Not just him, either. All of them. She suspected there was so very little she wouldn't have done to achieve something that seemed so tremendously ambitious.

“Good,” Gale said, gripping Nepione’s hand a little too long — this did feel more portentous than their previous touch, weighted with all the import he could infuse into the moment — before letting go.

He cleared his throat. “Onward, then, to our original errand?”

None of this conversation was what he’d expected. The day started to become a little more normal as they approach Rivington Market: Gale took the lead, weaving through the meager stalls, occasionally muttering to himself about how this paled in comparison to the exotic spice markets of Waterdeep, also apparently the war on the Absolute was hell on trade routes, all of the fresh produce was limp and a little wilted and too expensive besides, what a sorry excuse for grocers —

But his griping and grumbling aside, he still seemed to be enjoying himself.

“This is so much better than scrounging up stale bread from our enemies’ abandoned storerooms,” he said. They were finally at a point where they could afford buying a better quality of supplies, these days. “Do you have any favourite cuisines? Any preferred snacks or beloved desserts?”

As she followed after him, Wizard of Waterdeep with his ever discerning tastes, most of her observation came with amusement. He was so particular about everything. Not a bad thing by any means. It meant he knew what he wanted and she had to admit that it was an admirable trait. At least when set down in comparison by hers. When it came to stalls and markets and inventory, she'd grown up with not much that it was almost luxurious. Considering how very not luxurious it was in the broader spectrum, Nepione had to admit that her own perspective must have been skewed a bit.

Beyond that, however, as she trailed behind him, in the back of her mind, she thought about what had brought them to the present moment, and the little sliver of tension (or what she was going to consider tension) that seemed to settle right in her chest. Nothing unpleasant. Simply... present.

Regardless of whatever little comments Gale had to make, however, he didn't seem to absolutely hate going through everything, so perhaps he was simply filling in any potential silence between them. If that were case, was it because she made him nervous, or was it because that was simply the way he was? No. No, he definitely just enjoyed conversation. He had at least a year to make up for it, despite whatever ongoing talks he'd had with Tara whilst he was isolated.

Nepione could only smile softly, a little charmed (as ever she had been by him), as she listened in on his judgement and individual assessments. When he thought to ask of her own wants, which should have been somewhat simple to answer, the cleric found herself pausing, a bit caught by surprise.

"Hm..." she began thoughtfully, her gaze looking over a variety of spices with subdued interest. No cooking talent in her, she could only guess what any of them might have been used for. How they enhanced food or how they didn't, she couldn't say. "You know, I've never had much in the way of desserts. Wasn't readily available to me when I was younger. I've mostly eaten fruit and cheeses and... fish? But I think especially like fruits and cheese. Not vegetables."

So basically, she had the diet of a child, apparently.

“Oh, if you like fruits and cheese, I can make a tremendous charcuterie board or mezze platter! Cured meats, artisanal cheeses, rosemary sea-salt crackers, with some pickled olives on the side. Grapes, perhaps some fried halloumi…”

Gale didn’t seem to mind or even remark on her childish palate; he was clearly daydreaming about the possibilities now, a little wistful. He had no idea if he could even get halloumi in this corner of the Sword Coast. Likely not.

So he relented to realism a moment later, grudgingly, “Some of that might have to wait until another day, when this war with the Absolute ends, or perhaps if we ever make it to Waterdeep. But if you’ve truly never had dessert, then I need to remedy that post-haste. Vasilopita cake, for example, is simple enough; families often have their own recipe for it, and ours uses oranges. It’s a cake served at midnight at the end of Wintershield, at the start of a new year — traditionally after baking it, you insert a coin through the base, and whoever finds the coin in their slice of cake is said to be granted luck for the rest of the year. I know it’s not the new year yet, technically, but I think this would still feel appropriate. Turning over a new leaf, so to speak. Hoping for luck.”

Browsing the stalls, testing the firmness and ripeness of the various fruits they passed, he finally stopped his cheerful ramblings and cocked his head, contemplative. Glanced over at Nepione.

“You know,” he said, “I haven’t actually had the opportunity to cook for others for a while, until our motley little group. Being a Chosen, living half in the astral plane, one gets accustomed to nourishment simply… appearing, magically, or ordering it delivered simply because you can. I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed cooking with real ingredients.”

He got so carried away almost immediately that Nepione had a difficult time controlling the transparency in her expression. That said, a fancy charcuterie sounded nice. Hells, everything he made mention of did. It didn't take her much time to entertain the notion of a quiet night in somewhere with a fire, some mulled wine, and something incredibly relaxing.

That would have been superb. If only it wasn't a fantasy living up inside of her head. She didn't think dealing with the threat of the Absolute was going to make it any closer to a reality either. If she ever found herself in a situation like it, she doubted she'd know how to handle it. Such things required a social grace that the tiefling just didn't have.

Of course, entirely different if she were alone. Maybe that would have to be the way.

Tagging along closely, she listened to him rattle on about cake with the same interest as she had each time he spoke of the Weave, his relationship with Elminster, Tara, and his days in Waterdeep.

"I don't know a thing about baking, so all of that sounds delicious and complicated. Deliciously complicated? Wouldn't mind watching you make something. I could try to help, but that might just give you more problems to deal with." Not that it seemed as though he would particularly dislike that. Maybe she was the good kind of problem. When he continued, touched by what she would have considered nostalgia, she smiled gently.

"If you're looking for more excuses to cook, I don't think you need to look any further. You can make food for me anytime. Otherwise, I'll just eat wedges of cheese and raw fruit." Which... was what she was already doing. But she seemed to be fine, so it was probably a healthier diet than most people would have expected of someone who enjoyed running herself constantly ragged.

Mama Dekarios, evidently, wasn’t the only person who felt the need to feed the people they cared about. He was realising a little of that similarity as their conversation went on, and he gave a thoughtful hm as Nepione smiled. (Gale’s love language is acts of service and let’s not examine that too closely.)

“An excellent plan, then,” he eventually declared. “You can be my sous-chef and my taste tester. It’ll be much better than wincing our way through rotten apples. Even now, I think, our collective purse can afford better ingredients; I’d rather use it to bake a cake for you than to buy yet another spellbook I’m going to read and never use, anyhow.”

He said it carelessly, offhand, scooping ingredients into his arms, not thinking much of the offer — but it hinted at how much he valued Nepione, a subtle readjustment which he hadn’t quite articulated until this moment. Shifting his priorities from accruing more magic to baking a simple new year’s cake instead, all just for the delight of seeing her smile.

She only scarcely knew the meaning of 'sous-chef' and though she very much wanted to remind him that she likely wasn't going to be of much use, Nepione somehow managed to refrain from just such a thing. Taste testing, on the other hand, she could do masterfully at. There was nothing difficult about eating something and issuing judgement on whether it was 'good' or 'bad' (despite how very subjective such a thing was).

"I don't see why we can't get some nicer ingredients and spellbooks for you," she pointed out with some consideration. "Who says that anyone should just be limited by a single thing?" Nepione shook her head, thinking about all of the times she would have been somewhat put out if she was forced to start making decisions.

Not that it hadn't happened before. It had, of course. In the truly important situations, she had no problems making the truly difficult decisions. It was mostly the ones that were relatively unimportant in the grand spectrum of things that was more of a challenge. She wasn't about to boast regarding indecision, however. It was considerably better simply to see very open-minded.

"Let's get both. Don't spend everything we have on ingredients. We can have our cake and books."

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