Gale studies Astarion, unease crawling under his skin.
Your life is your own, Astarion says, and is it? It feels like it hasn't been, for so long. The orb is a weight on his chest, stifling his ability to breathe. Gale would love to claim he doesn't fear death, but he does. He doesn't want to die.
He didn't want to die.
There's no running from it, however. Mystra's charm was placed on him only to hold it back, a ticking timer. If he still... has it, for whatever reason, if he's still here there must be a new purpose. His voice drops, an uncertain whisper.
"For some of us, death is assured. Is it not better to find meaning where we can? In our lives, and perhaps our ultimate demise -- as untimely as it might be."
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Your life is your own, Astarion says, and is it? It feels like it hasn't been, for so long. The orb is a weight on his chest, stifling his ability to breathe. Gale would love to claim he doesn't fear death, but he does. He doesn't want to die.
He didn't want to die.
There's no running from it, however. Mystra's charm was placed on him only to hold it back, a ticking timer. If he still... has it, for whatever reason, if he's still here there must be a new purpose. His voice drops, an uncertain whisper.
"For some of us, death is assured. Is it not better to find meaning where we can? In our lives, and perhaps our ultimate demise -- as untimely as it might be."