Chapter Text
Walking toward camp at the end of a long day, the barest whisper and a nearby tug at the weave is all the warning Gale gets before an ambush. He snaps his head toward the bushes on their right and grips his staff tighter. He can feel Tav straighten up to attention in the same moment. His fellow sorcerer raises their hands, but before a spell can be cast, a shining piece of the weave zips out from the bushes, grabs Gale’s cape, and pulls it over his head.
He lets out a panicked shout as his vision is blocked by the heavy fabric and he trips backward over a root. He pulls at the shroud, certain that by the time he’s regained his bearing, they’ll have been surrounded by twenty of the Absolute’s best. Yet, as he throws the cape back over his shoulders, Gale’s simply greeted by the sight of Shadowheart and Astarion desperately fighting back laughter. The vampire’s conjured mage hand floats over his shoulder mockingly and it doesn’t take Gale long to put two and two together. Even Tav is starting to giggle, covering their mouth with their hands as if to spare Gale anymore embarrassment.
“Are you alright there, dear?” Astarion calls out as Gale gets back to his feet, his voice light with barely swallowed laughter. “You seem to have taken quite a tumble.”
Gale brushes off his robes and gathers up his remaining dignity, refusing to meet Astarion’s mischievous gaze. “Perfectly fine, Astarion. Though I hardly think you’re all that concerned about me and my well-being, given your severe lack of ability to take anything seriously.” Astarion rolls his eyes and Shadowheart snorts, but keeps the rest of her comments blessedly quiet.
“Okay, okay,” Tav speaks up, a smile still plastered across their features. “We should get back to camp before it gets dark. It’s been a long day.”
The rest of the walk back to camp is quiet in more ways than one. As they step past the fire, Gale stops to dig into their dwindling food stores. He’s laying it all out on a cloth and mentally making notes on how to prepare dinner when someone walks up to his side. He looks up from the food at Shadowheart, who has a look of slight annoyance on her face.
“I don’t suppose you need a hand with supper tonight, do you? I’m not busy, so…” She leans her head to the side, looking at something on the other side of camp. Gale follows her gaze and spies Tav offering two thumbs up and a smile. When they spot Gale, they quickly look away, acting as though they’d been distracted with something else. He rolls his eyes and meets Shadowheart’s, where he can see that her disgust has faded away. “As a matter of fact, there is something you can help with. Thank you.”
Any olive branch is a kindness, even if a bit coerced by their charismatic leader. Gale pulls out one of their few cooking knives and instructs Shadowheart to chop up the vegetables he’d bought that afternoon for their stew. She is quite helpful in the end, and even a delightful cooking partner, if anyone asked. Her pranking partner, however, is noticeably absent until the party is halfway done with their meal. He sneaks in from the edge of camp, inserting himself into a heated conversation between Wyll and Karlach about the most efficient ways to kill a cambion, and pointedly ignores looking in Gale’s direction.
Gale rolls his eyes and ignores the elf in equal measure. Whether Tav was unable to convince Astarion to apologize or if they simply didn’t try, it doesn’t matter. No apology from Astarion would ever feel convincing. Really, no emotion other than smug haughtiness and lust seemed real when it came from Astarion. It’s a quality Gale finds downright souring, and Astarion is more than happy to push those buttons at any cost.