[ is this a fucking challenge? gale of waterdeep is down for a little bit of adorable whimsy you fool. taking at least the hat and putting it on his head, brushing a few fingers against the rim. ]
These were all the rage in the 1200's, you know. Wizards everywhere, hats reaching for the sky.
I certainly donāt remember wizards flouncing around in pointy hats back then. [ then again he doesnāt rememberā¦ a lot of things from beforehand. ] Next youāre going to tell me it was only for your fancy little wizard lectures.
ā¦
[ watches him spin with a look on his face like he wants to make fun of him but also has to grapple with the fact thereās something about this stupid wizard outfit on the wizard thatās compelling.
[ there are pointy wizard hats in game but somehow all look more like cowboy hats. fashion can be so ephemeral. also he does not really notice the look after his spin, perhaps because he's got that brim over his face. ]
Mostly formal events, balls, graduations, and yes lectures from significant enough figures to deserve a bit of dressing up - though apprentice-wear has hardly changed over the centuries all things considered. I'd certainly get into trouble for dress code violation all the time, but really the decisions they made regarding these things ...
[ HE WILL JUST KEEP GOING ON ABOUT WIZARD FASHION. ]
[ like all academia, wizard school is most definitely a bacchanal of epic proportions, because there's got to be something to do between all the research. anyway, astarion, sweetie, he was fucking a goddess on the regular. it was at least a little scandalous. ]
I don't know what you think young people practically locked in a tower together for months at a time get up to, but it isn't all book clubs and lanceboard tournaments.
[ well, whatever. pulling the hat off, coming over to plonk that on astarion's head. ]
[ itās less fun if he acknowledges that because then he canāt make as much fun of gale. ]
Oh Iām fully aware what people locked up in small places get up to eventually, but it feels like a 50/50 coin flip whether half the wizards Iāve met would be getting close and personal with their text books over each other. [ theyāve met rolan. ]
ā¦
[ hmmmmm. he adjusts the hat so itās at a respectable angle. ] ā¦ I could see myself when Gojo insisted on a photo last week.
[ and that was a fucking experience and a half heās still not quite sure was real. ] Iām not sure I want to look in a mirror and find out that was a fluke.
[ he absolutely hesitates for far too long. like his feet have grown roots and dug into the ground. he thinks his eyes are red. theyād looked red in that strange little reflective device gojo had held up. but now he thinks about it, heās not sure.
maybe he imagined it.
then he huffs, short, stroppy and annoyed and rips the roots out of his feet to step towards the mirror, arms folding defensively like a barrier between him and his own reflection. ]
[ he's patient with this little act - he's really allowed to take his time on these things if he wants to. it's actually a bit hard for gale to understand exactly the feelings happening to astarion in this moment, because he doesn't have a concept of losing all that time and then finding yourself a new and almost entirely different person. gale's problem is likely the opposite. he remembers too well the person he was before. the comparison is a harsh light.
as he comes over, since it's affection week, he'll just gently place a hand across astarion's shoulders, congenial and casual. ]
[ affection week doing its job -- astarion doesn't immediately wiggle away or try to duck from the touch. it's a little difficult for him to do more than just stare, really.
it would be near impossible explain what forgetting yourself is like. he knew his hair curled, because he could feel it. he suspected it was white, because he could see it curl in front of his face sometimes. but he can't recall the colour of his eyes, what they were like before cazador, and he had no idea what they became after.
he'd forgotten the shape of his nose, the point of his chin. so many little things that just made up his entry identity. ]
...
[ ...
he sniffs. ]
Well, I had some idea. I didn't have any trouble gaining attention these past two hundred years.
[ but his voice lacks the edge, replaced with something just a little more vulnerable. ]
[ he will gently remove the hat from astarion's head, so it doesn't get in the way, tossing it off to the side. he's looking more at astarion from the side than he is looking in the mirror - giving him a lopsided smile. ]
You had more than some idea. You told us about twice an hour. But I suppose when one is right, one is right.
[ some gentle teasing, so he feels like he's in his element. ]
It can be funny, just how quickly we forget these things. Why, I hardly remember what I looked like without a beard, and it wasn't even that long ago.
I think it'd be rather strange to imagine you with different eyes than you have now, actually.
[ he flushes when he's stared at because hello? ]
Surely not that strange. [ he clears his throat. ] Tara rather dislikes it, actually. I started it when I was in my tower for that year after the incident with the orb.
I suppose it doesnāt really matter. I couldnāt tell you what they were either way. Iām not even sure if my hair was white or not before I was turned.
[ hello. ]
Yes, but as you said: I think itād be rather strange if you suddenly showed up clean shaven. Your face would look oddly bare. [ and then heād try to sell us all a home makeover.
hm. ] Although I suppose for Tara it would be an entirely different matter. [ especially with that context. ]
Not into that bald catā [ ā¦ ]ā Tressym look, is she?
[ are there bald tressyms? heās thinking about this now. ]
Well, itās certainly striking. Even if it does scream āVampireā from several rooftops. Iām surprised no oneās busted out the stakes and started questioning me more often.
[ red eyes, take warning. both of which go a little cross-eyed watching gale pull and sproing one of his curls. ]
Not at all. Itās a bit like looking at a stranger, albeit one who moves as and when I do.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
w1, monday
only a wizard's outfit. ]
Well? Go on then, get changed.
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These were all the rage in the 1200's, you know. Wizards everywhere, hats reaching for the sky.
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Did you all take it in turns to jab either other in the eyes mid-lecture? [ that wouldāve been fun to see. ] Come on. Robe. Donāt procrastinate.
[ full wizard whimsy or bust, gale. ]
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[ doofus!!!!!! but yes yes he's getting there. robe too. doing a little animal crossing style spin. he is not pulling this off, and yet ... ? ]
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ā¦
[ watches him spin with a look on his face like he wants to make fun of him but also has to grapple with the fact thereās something about this stupid wizard outfit on the wizard thatās compelling.
hurgh. ]
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Mostly formal events, balls, graduations, and yes lectures from significant enough figures to deserve a bit of dressing up - though apprentice-wear has hardly changed over the centuries all things considered. I'd certainly get into trouble for dress code violation all the time, but really the decisions they made regarding these things ...
[ HE WILL JUST KEEP GOING ON ABOUT WIZARD FASHION. ]
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[ muffled āaā ]
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You got into trouble for excessive wizard decor?
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I was often in trouble for quite a lot of things, Astarion. Too much collarbone is hardly the worst offense I can list.
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Let me guess ā it was all stiff button ups and flashing an ankle was swoon worthy?
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if astarion isn't holding it down, he'll lift it up and then go to start fixing his hair in a nearby mirror. ]
What can I say? I was at times a bit of a distraction.
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but no, itās just a tug. go fix your hair princess. ]
How scandalous. And here I thought you wizards were too busy with your noses in books to be going around exposing your shoulders and all and sundry.
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I don't know what you think young people practically locked in a tower together for months at a time get up to, but it isn't all book clubs and lanceboard tournaments.
[ well, whatever. pulling the hat off, coming over to plonk that on astarion's head. ]
Say-- can see yourself in a mirror?
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Oh Iām fully aware what people locked up in small places get up to eventually, but it feels like a 50/50 coin flip whether half the wizards Iāve met would be getting close and personal with their text books over each other. [ theyāve met rolan. ]
ā¦
[ hmmmmm. he adjusts the hat so itās at a respectable angle. ] ā¦ I could see myself when Gojo insisted on a photo last week.
[ and that was a fucking experience and a half heās still not quite sure was real. ] Iām not sure I want to look in a mirror and find out that was a fluke.
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True enough. Though I'm sure our young friend Rolan will do fine if he worries less about Lorroakan for a short while.
[ looking between the mirror and astarion briefly, stepping slightly to the side and holding an arm out to wave him over. ]
Come.
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ā¦
[ he absolutely hesitates for far too long. like his feet have grown roots and dug into the ground. he thinks his eyes are red. theyād looked red in that strange little reflective device gojo had held up. but now he thinks about it, heās not sure.
maybe he imagined it.
then he huffs, short, stroppy and annoyed and rips the roots out of his feet to step towards the mirror, arms folding defensively like a barrier between him and his own reflection. ]
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as he comes over, since it's affection week, he'll just gently place a hand across astarion's shoulders, congenial and casual. ]
See? Perfectly handsome.
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it would be near impossible explain what forgetting yourself is like. he knew his hair curled, because he could feel it. he suspected it was white, because he could see it curl in front of his face sometimes. but he can't recall the colour of his eyes, what they were like before cazador, and he had no idea what they became after.
he'd forgotten the shape of his nose, the point of his chin. so many little things that just made up his entry identity. ]
...
[ ...
he sniffs. ]
Well, I had some idea. I didn't have any trouble gaining attention these past two hundred years.
[ but his voice lacks the edge, replaced with something just a little more vulnerable. ]
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You had more than some idea. You told us about twice an hour. But I suppose when one is right, one is right.
[ some gentle teasing, so he feels like he's in his element. ]
It can be funny, just how quickly we forget these things. Why, I hardly remember what I looked like without a beard, and it wasn't even that long ago.
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[ hmm. he wrinkles his nose slightly as the hat messes up his hair, but he keeps his gaze on the mirror the whole time. ]
The little things. You really do lose those before you even realise you can't quite remember what your eye colour was. Or how far apart they were.
[
and then gale says something cursed and he's turning his head to stare at him, the beard, and then him properly again. ]
... Oh now that is strange to imagine. [ NO BEARD? ]
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[ he flushes when he's stared at because hello? ]
Surely not that strange. [ he clears his throat. ] Tara rather dislikes it, actually. I started it when I was in my tower for that year after the incident with the orb.
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[ hello. ]
Yes, but as you said: I think itād be rather strange if you suddenly showed up clean shaven. Your face would look oddly bare. [ and then heād try to sell us all a home makeover.
hm. ] Although I suppose for Tara it would be an entirely different matter. [ especially with that context. ]
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[ he sort of laughs at his own joke. ]
While I'm sure you'd be just as attractive with dark hair or green eyes, this, ah, works for you? Do you ... remember anything else? From before?
[ affection week! so he reaches over to gently tug one of the curls in front of astarion's face so it sproings. ]
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[ are there bald tressyms? heās thinking about this now. ]
Well, itās certainly striking. Even if it does scream āVampireā from several rooftops. Iām surprised no oneās busted out the stakes and started questioning me more often.
[ red eyes, take warning. both of which go a little cross-eyed watching gale pull and sproing one of his curls. ]
Not at all. Itās a bit like looking at a stranger, albeit one who moves as and when I do.
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