#dhamari: oright i'm supposed to be making you feel better crap uhhhh -

[kemendin]

More fic WIP! I think I'm starting to get the hang of writing Gale.

Gale has turned his face forward again, his eyes aimless as he retreats gloomily into his own thoughts. Dhamari supposes he can’t blame the man for that; thanks to the drow, speaking such thoughts aloud has only formed more tension between the two of them, instead of the comfort that was sought. Dhamari feels a twinge of something that might be guilt. Moistening his lips, he pulls himself up onto one elbow. “I - I’m sorry.” Unusual words for him, emerging in barely more than a croak of breath. “I didn’t mean to - upset you.” Gale’s lips give a feeble twitch. “You haven’t,” he murmurs after a moment. “I fear I was already well-entrenched in that territory before your comments were made.” He shakes his head, letting out a self-deprecating huff. “Perhaps I should build myself a new metaphorical tower here. A precarious one, of course.” He extracts a hand from behind his head and splays it in the air before him, as though marking out an image in the shadows. “I can picture it now -  its frail body listing to one side, all its windows and doors askew, its stones cracked and crumbling from their mortar. ‘Dekarios’ Upset’, they’ll call it. And every night, another fragment will fall away, swallowed by the waiting darkness.” His hand hangs there for a moment, suspended in sardonic imaginings; and then he exhales quietly, and lets his arm fall back to his side.