Chapter Text
The brain worms brought with them a lot of change. New powers, new companions, new lives. The changes were largely unwelcome, leaving Tav and his party fearing what each day might reveal. But for all the terrifying events unfolding before him, Tav discovered, with relief, that the mindflayers couldn’t stop him from getting high.
He was alone one balmy night, sat by the dying embers of the campfire. The last of his companions had headed into their tent for a night’s rest. He waited to hear them settle into their bedrolls with bated breath. His heart hammered and his fingers twitched fearfully as he reached into his pouch for the bud he’d saved for a still evening. Tav held it between unsteady fingers, rolling it over to watch the moonlight tickle the trichomes. A rustle in the nearby brush snapped his head round, wild eyes darting in search of danger. Gods forbid somebody walk in on the scene. Everybody was wary enough of each other already, entirely understandable given the circumstances. Tav could do without the extra arousal of suspicion, and the extra lungs to feed, if he were to be perfectly candid.
The night was tranquil once more. Tav’s only company was that of the crackling coals, and the twinkling stars peering out from behind the clouds. The roll was quick and messy, courtesy of the looming fear of interruption, but beggars could not be choosers. At least, not yet. He sparked it off the campfire, a flame refusing to peter lapping up at it, eager to see him shrouded in sweet smoke.
As plum plumes reached toward the stars, Tav’s free hand followed them, chasing the same freedom. He had slid onto his back, melting like caramel into a puddle of calm. He was no longer distracted by the torment of his travels, nor fretting over the fear of being found out. Even the worm seemed to still at the smoke; the only wriggling being that of his toes in the grass.
Tav breathed in the night air, deep and satisfied. Those days, he struggled to draw a proper lungful, fighting the tightness in his chest, mud in his head, and ringing in his ears. He was relaxed. At peace, for the first time since infection. Even then, he had no memories of peace from before. Naught but a faint impression of the feeling. Before he could seek out the horrors lurking in place of remembrance, a hand materialised on his shoulder from within the darkness. He jumped, slipping off the log he’d been sitting on, losing the joint somewhere in the brush.
“Tsk tsk,” Gale’s voice snuck around from behind, “And what do we have here? Our fair leader, hoarding all the good provisions to himself?”
“I- Uh- No. You-” Tav sputtered.
“All right, keep your hat on. I may be a man of many, many titles, but a grass? Never.”
“Gods above, don’t sneak up on me like that! You’re lucky my blade’s back in the tent or that could’ve turned ugly.”
“Fair point. Shall I make more noise next time? A smattering of nice loud stomps around Lae’zel’s bedroll?”
“Mm. Nice angle. Didn’t have you pegged as one for mutual destruction.”
“Well, it’s been known to take my fancy on many an evening. Such as this one.” Gale eyed Tav expectantly.
A few moments of eye-contact and eyebrow wriggling failed to convey the message, and so, Gale settled himself on the log and gave three suggestive coughs.
“Oh! …Oh?” Tav combed the grass in a fleeting moment of panic as he recalled the joint slipping away into the dark.
“Are you sure?”
“I couldn’t possibly be more certain.” Gale nodded. Tav, having located the joint amongst the weeds, handed it over. With a very hushed “ignis”, smoke rose once again, and Gale continued.
“You know, back in my tower in Waterdeep, the day I was abducted, I had just sparked a bowl on the balcony. Bastard mindflayer knocked it right over the bannister! I’ve been fantasising about that smoke ever since. New flowers, beautiful sunset, fresh pot of tea…” Gale took a deep drag and gazed wistfully at the coals. He tipped his head to puff out the plumes.
“You’ll have to visit me sometime, once all of this,” Gale gesticulated wildly, a jagged trail of smoke following his hand, “has blown over. If we don’t become mindflayers, of course. Tea and tokes on the balcony. As long as you don’t mind cat hair, that is.”
“Cat hair sounds great right now. A far cry better than worm brine and goblin guts.”
“Right you are, my friend. Right you are.”
And so the night rolled on. Conversation turned to prattle and worry turned to laughter as they were swallowed by the smoke. Under a tired moon, Tav found himself in Gale’s tent, munching from a secret stash of Waterdhavian chocolates that Gale had revealed, red-eyed and under little duress. As he drifted, he felt sated, and not yet concerned about being seen crawling out of Gale’s bed come morning. Under the stars, and under the heavy purple drapery of Gale’s tent, Tav was comfortable. Gale was snoring quietly, having fallen asleep to the low rumble of Tav’s voice, one ear to his chest. It hadn’t escaped Tav that he was drooling, just a little. He’d make sure to tease him about it later. But most importantly, Gale, soft and unspooled, with his greying hair tangling with Tav’s, and his breath fanning his exposed chest, was safe. He was safe.