"I can understand that," he says, an unspoken 'but' hovering in the cold air between them. He dries himself off next, but it doesn't stop him shivering, not given the temperature in the room. Before, he would have wanted to have a lengthy discussion about this, try to explain magic to Pom, or at least explain why it's beautiful, but words come at a much higher cost since he came back. Pom doesn't like his illusions — he makes a note not to do them around him. What's one more part of him to cut off anyway? "We should get dressed, get under the blankets, something. It's too cold in here to be naked."
Pom's ears remain dipped, his tail curling inward; he does his best to hide his guilt, but without his glasses and clothing, his body so changed from what he's used to, the signs are all too obvious.
"... Sure."
Now that they're dry, he figures blankets will be the best option for getting them warm, as figuring out how to put himself back into his clothes in this partially-Shifted shape is a challenge even when he's not shivering. He gestures toward the bed before heading over himself. Nestled beneath the facade of an igloo, the bed is just big enough for the two of them, although it will be a tight fit.
The barest hint of a smile tugs at Pom's lips - maybe he can still make it up to Gale. Maybe he isn't the proverbial better Gale deserves, but he can pretend, just for a night. Wrap his arms around him, keep him warm. Make himself useful. Help Gale forget he's a fool who doesn't know what he's doing, who is as likely to destroy anything fragile and precious as a rampaging Deviljho.
Well, there goes his smile. He attempts to put it on again as he climbs into one side of the bed, patting the other side enticingly, but the knot in his brow still remains.
Gale hurries to get into the blankets, settling in beside Pom where he'd patted. "You're upset?" he says, looking over his expression with a frown. Pom's smile is present, but weak, and his brows furrowed. Gale reaches up to smooth away the lines between his brow like errant chalk marks on a chalkboard. It's a funny thing, the way they feel so connected without actually knowing all that much about one another. Is that the imprint? Or just the situation they find themselves in. "Tell me?"
Gale presses a kiss into the same spot between Pom's eyebrows. "You don't
have to tell me," he says, amending his previous request. Because now more
than ever, Gale understands not wanting to talk about certain things, "But
you can. You know that right?"
He gnaws his lip; he knows he can tell Gale, but worries about crossing a line, hurting his feelings, making him regret this partnership already. He promised he'd be more honest, and here he is, trying to go back to pretending already.
"Something I said bothered you, and you clammed up. About the illusions. I know I can talk to you, but can you talk to me? It don't have to be tonight, but... I don't want to ruin this immediately. Don't want to lose this good thing I wanted so bad right after getting it."
"Sorry," Gale says, turning a little pink as his new ears flatten out. He looks away from Pom, staring at the walls of the igloo, wondering whether the I've is real. "I know. But... It's hard now. To get what I want to say out. Not because of you." He shuffles a little closer until their sides are flush. Then he turns to look at Pom, because it's easier somehow "I just... I... Want to be what you want. Don't think I've ever really been that for anyone before."
I want to be what you want. It echoes in Pom's head, and for an instant, hears himself in Gale's words. He's been there, dealing with complicated feelings, unable to vocalize them because he's afraid of being hurt, all while struggling against the Natural Soul in him that feeds on bestial instinct and action. Gale has that, and what he's been through with Patho-Gen, with his torture. Words would be hard for anyone after that. Pom remembers those times in the Pens. Purl had to coax the words out of him, too.
Above all, he understands what Gale is saying. He's wanted that so many times: to be someone else, someone better, who someone deserves — or who he thinks they deserve — rather than who they are truly asking for. Pom tries so often to play a role, and he can't help but wonder in that moment if it's the same for Gale. He's used to being an important person, after all - one doesn't get a title like Of Waterdeep without being at least a little important. If he's used to being more, to having the magic that made him so important... maybe that's what people are used to seeing, why they paid attention to him. He came to think that's all he was.
And then there's Pom, who doesn't particularly feel comfortable around magic, asking Gale to be something he feels he's not. And, selfish thing that he is, he didn't even think about it because he's used to trying to be what people want rather than himself. Pom doesn't know himself, and what he does know, he doesn't necessarily like. Maybe there's a bit of that confusion in Gale, too - he doesn't know who he is without his magic, the same way Pom doesn't know who he is without Purl. They don't know how to be anything else, after all.
People are so much more complicated than monsters, but Pom's willing to try if Gale is. He can get used to magic, and Gale can get used to being without it, and the two of them can meet somewhere in the middle of illusion and reality.
"You don't need to be someone else just for me. I want that nice fella who checks on me when I'm out too long. Who reads to me at night while I tune my horn. Who cares so much about others, and not nearly enough about himself."
He turns his head Gale's way to meet his eyes, reaching down for his hand, his fingers aching to lace themselves between Gale's.
"If that means illusions, then I'll get used to them... so long as you're real with me. And if you're someone other than that nice fella I've known for months now, then you've sure got me fooled."
"You make it sound easy when you put it that way," Gale says softly. Because unlike Pom, Gale never particularly realized he was playing a role. Even though he buried Gale Dekarios to erect Gale of Waterdeep in his place, it didn't feel like an illusion, it just felt like an evolution. In becoming one of the greatest wizards of Waterdeep, he never realized he was building a facade of the type of man he imagined would garner respect and love. He never realized it was a wall until his life became a tragedy and he realized how few people would notice or care if he never made it home. Funny how a tadpole in his brain had managed to improve his life in that regard, had taught him what it meant to have companions, friends, that he could rely on even when he showed his weaknesses. He has found even more people like that since arriving here, but Pom was the first.
Gale twines his fingers together with Pom. "I promise to always be genuine with you. But please tell me when things make you uncomfortable too."
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"... Sure."
Now that they're dry, he figures blankets will be the best option for getting them warm, as figuring out how to put himself back into his clothes in this partially-Shifted shape is a challenge even when he's not shivering. He gestures toward the bed before heading over himself. Nestled beneath the facade of an igloo, the bed is just big enough for the two of them, although it will be a tight fit.
The barest hint of a smile tugs at Pom's lips - maybe he can still make it up to Gale. Maybe he isn't the proverbial better Gale deserves, but he can pretend, just for a night. Wrap his arms around him, keep him warm. Make himself useful. Help Gale forget he's a fool who doesn't know what he's doing, who is as likely to destroy anything fragile and precious as a rampaging Deviljho.
Well, there goes his smile. He attempts to put it on again as he climbs into one side of the bed, patting the other side enticingly, but the knot in his brow still remains.
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"I'm not upset with you."
As usual, Pom's problem is with Pom himself.
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Gale presses a kiss into the same spot between Pom's eyebrows. "You don't have to tell me," he says, amending his previous request. Because now more than ever, Gale understands not wanting to talk about certain things, "But you can. You know that right?"
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He gnaws his lip; he knows he can tell Gale, but worries about crossing a line, hurting his feelings, making him regret this partnership already. He promised he'd be more honest, and here he is, trying to go back to pretending already.
"Something I said bothered you, and you clammed up. About the illusions. I know I can talk to you, but can you talk to me? It don't have to be tonight, but... I don't want to ruin this immediately. Don't want to lose this good thing I wanted so bad right after getting it."
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Above all, he understands what Gale is saying. He's wanted that so many times: to be someone else, someone better, who someone deserves — or who he thinks they deserve — rather than who they are truly asking for. Pom tries so often to play a role, and he can't help but wonder in that moment if it's the same for Gale. He's used to being an important person, after all - one doesn't get a title like Of Waterdeep without being at least a little important. If he's used to being more, to having the magic that made him so important... maybe that's what people are used to seeing, why they paid attention to him. He came to think that's all he was.
And then there's Pom, who doesn't particularly feel comfortable around magic, asking Gale to be something he feels he's not. And, selfish thing that he is, he didn't even think about it because he's used to trying to be what people want rather than himself. Pom doesn't know himself, and what he does know, he doesn't necessarily like. Maybe there's a bit of that confusion in Gale, too - he doesn't know who he is without his magic, the same way Pom doesn't know who he is without Purl. They don't know how to be anything else, after all.
People are so much more complicated than monsters, but Pom's willing to try if Gale is. He can get used to magic, and Gale can get used to being without it, and the two of them can meet somewhere in the middle of illusion and reality.
"You don't need to be someone else just for me. I want that nice fella who checks on me when I'm out too long. Who reads to me at night while I tune my horn. Who cares so much about others, and not nearly enough about himself."
He turns his head Gale's way to meet his eyes, reaching down for his hand, his fingers aching to lace themselves between Gale's.
"If that means illusions, then I'll get used to them... so long as you're real with me. And if you're someone other than that nice fella I've known for months now, then you've sure got me fooled."
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Gale twines his fingers together with Pom. "I promise to always be genuine with you. But please tell me when things make you uncomfortable too."