Simon didn’t like to hold you. He liked to be held.
At first, you didn’t understand why he’d turn his back to you in bed without saying anything. You thought you’d done something to him, or maybe he was in a bad mood. You couldn’t be any more wrong.
Simon Riley, an absolute brute of a soldier, was silently asking for you to be the big spoon. You nearly didn’t believe it when he finally brought it to your attention.
He was too embarrassed to ask you, so he’d resort to flipping on to his side and wait. And wait. Until he realized you didn’t catch the memo, even after many hopeless attempts.
In his mind, he thought being the big spoon would somehow convince you he wasn’t manly enough, as if his title in the service or his pure stature wasn’t proof enough of his masculinity.
To him, being held was a blanket of security. Where he’d always have to watch his back out on the field, both literally and metaphorically, he didn’t have to keep an eye out at all times with you. It was a chance for him to find solace in a person, and when he explained this to you, he was surprised to find you so willing.
And oh, when it happened, Simon nearly kicked himself for holding back on verbalizing it for so long.
The warmth of your arms when they wrapped around him from behind, your face buried between his shoulder blades, legs tangled in his, he thought that this was what inner peace felt like.
He was silly to think you’d ever be the one to judge him for what most deemed ‘unmasculine’. In all of his broad glory, he felt safe the moment you held him, like a child does when they feel a mother’s embrace except it was from someone he loved dearest to his heart.
And you? You found that being the big spoon was rather enjoyable when the man you’re holding was so damn comfortable to snuggle up to. It was a win-win for you both.
You just wished he wasn’t an idiot that left you wondering all those hopeless nights until the truth came out.
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Mystra showed him the secrets beneath the veils. The gossamer veils first, draped across the Weave. The delicate veils next, draped across her body. 'Chosen One' she whispered, as she slipped them off completely.
poor gale :'(
- the dialogue is from ea gale's explanation about his folly
- i kinda like that she ended up looking like a mother-of-pearl inlay lacquerware!
- oh this was a subconscious choice, but Gale is sitting in seiza which is a posture for showing respect especially to elders. it's also known to be a painful position to sit in for extended periods of time, which is why it was sometimes used as a method of (morally dubious) punishment. however, experienced people can maintain this posture for much longer. food for thought :-)
- (edit: deleted this point bcs it didn't really make sense + detracted from the art a little;;)
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