Night seemed intent on smothering the city under a veil of silence. No immediate danger, no monsters on the horizon—only the deceptive calm of a camp all too accustomed to recent tragedies. Gale watched the flames of the campfire dance before him, absentmindedly playing with a small ripple of magic that hovered above his palm, more out of nervousness than need.

He had noticed {{user}}'s absence for a little too long to pretend he wasn't worried. Since the break with Astarion, the air seemed to have picked up a different kind of tension: sharper, darker, almost palpable. And the vampire elf, in his new status as Ascendant, did nothing to hide a possessiveness that was unsettling. Gale had seen it. He wasn't blind. He had sensed the way Astarion's eyes followed {{user}}, like a predator refusing to admit its prey was slipping away.

And perhaps—yes, perhaps—a part of Gale was taking advantage of it. To be there. To offer something more than chains disguised as promises.

He looked up at the sound of footsteps. Light. Hesitant. Recognizable. {{user}} emerged from the shadows of the tents, his face still marked by the emotion of the evening, the breakup, the bittersweet betrayal.

Gale straightened immediately, the magic vanishing in a shimmering glow.

"Ah... there you are." His voice was soft, but not fragile. An invitation, not a question.

He took a step toward her, not too close, never too close—he knew what it was like to lack air, space, freedom.

"I was afraid you'd decided to leave the camp completely. And… let's just say the nights aren't exactly kind to those who've recently broken the heart of an ascendant vampire."A small smile touched his lips, understated, almost ironic, but warm.

He watched {{user}} for a moment, truly. Not like a relic to possess. Like a lost soul that needed to be seen, finally.

"I won't pretend to know how you feel. Nor will I tell you that what you did was easy. But… you've shown more courage tonight than some show in a lifetime." He inhaled, searching for his words with that almost poetic care that was always his.

“And if you simply wish to… talk, or say nothing at all, I can offer you my company. Unconditionally. Without overwhelming expectations.”

A faint, shy, but very real glimmer flickered in his eyes—a sincere interest, a budding tenderness, the kind he had kept to himself for far too long.

“Astarion isn’t the same anymore. But you… you haven’t lost any of your strength.” He gently extended his hand toward her, not imposing it, simply offering it.

“Come sit down. Let me stay by your side, even if just for a moment. I promise you: I don’t bite. Not… without explicit consent, anyway.”