[ A small knot loosens in her, for reasons she can't quite explain. Gale could have easily dismissed her, told her it wasn't real, that it all meant nothing. (The same shield she'd considered erecting, instead of offering him her vulnerability.)
He offers Shadowheart a gentle reflection, instead. Easier to hear--and say--all of this in writing, where he can't see her getting misty-eyed again. ]
You know, I canβt recall having many, either. After my folly, only a few tried to visit me, and I suspect that was largely to see how far Iβd fallen.
[ in fairness, the old gale had been self-aggrandising and prideful. he wouldnβt begrudge them the satisfaction now.
since shadowheart seems open to talking, he pushes a bit further. ]
[ Again, considers a number of responses to Gale's prompting: dismissive, snide, angry. She forces herself, instead, into the discomfort of the truth. ]
Shadowheart, we canβt even know how much of that other life was real.
And whether or not she had those things, you have yourself. The core of you, who so loves night orchids and fears wolves. You have myself and Astarion and our little hen. You have all who find you captivating here, and there are many who do.
You have your life. Your wants. Your future. What is a past compared to all of that?
[ for a man who is dying, still, it seems a great deal. ]
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no subject
He offers Shadowheart a gentle reflection, instead. Easier to hear--and say--all of this in writing, where he can't see her getting misty-eyed again. ]
You're a good friend, Gale.
I can't remember having many of those, either.
no subject
After my folly, only a few tried to visit me, and I suspect that was largely to see how far Iβd fallen.
[ in fairness, the old gale had been self-aggrandising and prideful. he wouldnβt begrudge them the satisfaction now.
since shadowheart seems open to talking, he pushes a bit further. ]
I imagine this is all very difficult for you.
no subject
[ Again, considers a number of responses to Gale's prompting: dismissive, snide, angry. She forces herself, instead, into the discomfort of the truth. ]
That life felt more real than the one I know.
She felt more real than I do.
no subject
[ can someone sound gently chiding over text? ]
Whyever would you think that? Youβre as real as she was, to me. Moreso, even, for your sharper edges.
no subject
Even when she lost them...she still had their memories. She could talk to them beyond the grave.
I have shadows where those memories should be.
no subject
And whether or not she had those things, you have yourself. The core of you, who so loves night orchids and fears wolves. You have myself and Astarion and our little hen. You have all who find you captivating here, and there are many who do.
You have your life. Your wants. Your future. What is a past compared to all of that?
[ for a man who is dying, still, it seems a great deal. ]