The passage to the Underdark was a cavernous spectacle, and Hope was just glad she hadn't shit her pants yet while climbing down a ladder of questionable stability. Closing her eyes, she focused on one downward step at a time, but it was difficult to ignore the sweat that covered her palms.
"Are you alright up there?" Gale called from somewhere below.
"Don't even fucking talk to me right now."
He returned with a slight chuckle.
One minute felt like ten as Hope internally counted each step and tried to focus on anything but the open space behind her. How the wind whipped her hair against her neck in a slight sting.
Odd, wasn't it? That someone who couldn't die was so afraid in a moment like this?
Granted, she wasn't sure if she feared the height as much as she hated the vulnerability that accompanied it. With her back to the void and no knowing of when they'd reach the end, she relied only on the people below her and the faith that this ladder didn't extend forever into nothing.
Perhaps that's what she lacked most—faith.
Finally, after what felt like an age, Halsin's steady voice reached her, "I've just reached the bottom."
Halsin had been the first to descend, and Hope had been the last, leaving her to be a spectacle as she finally hit solid ground. Her legs gave out beneath her as she fell to her knees and pressed her face against the cool stone.
"You would never have survived the training it takes to endure dragon riding," Laezel said, offering her hand to her, which she took and stood on still-shaking legs. "You are quick, however. You would have made fine target practice?"
The corners of Hope's mouth turned down as she cast a quick glance to the others and Lae'zel, who didn't smile.
"Is that a compliment?"
"Yes."
"…Thanks," Hope pursed her lips and nodded, "Anyway, I think we're supposed to go that way," she said, pointing toward the walkway ahead.
As she joined Astarion, who seemed relatively unfazed by the trek down, he grinned at her, "You two are making fast friends, I see."
Hope tried to swallow the tightening of her throat and nodded, "What can I say, I'm a lover, not a fighter."
"Oh, I think you have plenty of fight in you."
Blinking, she glanced at him and asked, "You do?"
"Don't act so surprised," he smirked, side-eyeing her, "I saw the cell you were imprisoned in. It takes a fair bit of determination to escape chains like those. Perhaps not strength, but a certain level of…cunning."
Cunning, an accurate description, she thought. Not that it's done her a whole lot of good. In fact, it's only made her life that much more complicated and annoying. Survival was becoming more of a nuisance than a savior.
Should she…could she tell him? All of them?
Hope didn't have a chance to contemplate further as they entered a square room with a temple at its center. She circled it, gazing up at the familiar face etched in other areas at the Temple of Selune. A chain of electricity connected from the statue to the outpost beyond the gate. If it weren't for the subtle hum of the current, Hope would have assumed it was a stream of light and nothing more.
"Selune," Shadowheart spat in disgust, "the sooner we get through the Underdark, the better."
Heavy footsteps thudded, and Hope's gaze cut to the gate, which stood only a few feet away. Frozen in place, she stared at not one, but two Minotaurs. Standing taller than even Halsin with bodies hulking with muscle, fur, and wild breaths, they stared her down in a fury.
"Is that gate locked?" She asked.
A crackle of energy filled the air. It whispered a warning against the back of Hope's neck, and she flattened herself to the ground just as the stream of electricity hurtled toward the beasts. The odor of scorched flesh and singed hair offended her nostrils.
After crawling to the side, she stood and stared at the smoking remnants that didn't stand a chance. Honestly, Hope didn't know the recovery process for being electrocuted to char, and she didn't intend on finding out.
"How do you turn this thing off?"
Gale frowned, shaking his head as he read the plaque below. His brow furrowed in contemplation, "I haven't the slightest idea. I'm sure there's a way…somehow."
"Preferably a way that doesn't refine us to kindling," Astarion piped.
Shadowheart, too, circled the statue, "Perhaps a lever of some sort. I don't see one."
"Unless it's outside of the gate?" Gale frowned. "Which wouldn't be good for us."
With no quick answers, Halsin finally said, "It's been a long day of travel," he said this to Hope, and took a step. Let's rest and pick apart the puzzle tomorrow with fresh minds."
Honestly, Hope was thrilled. She didn't want to walk another step. Most of her energy had been used up on the ladder, and she just wanted to lie down.
She made quick work of getting her place for the night. Pulling her bedroll a little closer to Astarion's, she sat down and tugged her boots off one at a time, squeezing her aching feet. How had she managed to dance on tables during Mardi Gras with six-inch platform stilettos without issue?
The moment Hope's head hit her rolled pillow, warm lips coasted her jaw line, wrenching a soft gasp from her.
"Honestly," Shadowheart sighed, "if you're going to, at least be considerate enough to wait for us all to go to sleep."
With a snort, Hope pressed her hand against Astarion's chest and pushed with minimal effort, "You are being a very terrible influence on me."
"Well, what's the point in being terrible if I can't also influence you to do those terrible things with me?" He flashed his fangs with a lop-sided grin. "Life's too lonely without a partner in crime…"
He thought he was influencing her to do terrible things—how cute.
"I'll drink to that," Hope laughed.
"Hm, doesn't sound like a bad plan…"
Hope rolled her eyes and sat up, "I thought you said the wine here tastes like shit."
"It does," he smirked, "but that doesn't mean I can't indulge. I'm learning to lower my standards."
Tilting her head to the side, she took in his face and a flash of the wolf inside of her bared its canines. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Hope moved to her knees and, with arms spread, bowed her body so that her chest pressed against the ground, but her eyes stayed locked on his.
"Low enough for you?"
Astarion's jaw ticked as he observed her, then, before she could object, he snatched her by the chin and caught her lips in a searing kiss. His voice dripped like honey, "Hm…as much as I love seeing you on your knees," he smirked and nipped her bottom lip as his voice dropped an octave, "I'll admit, I'd sooner convert your hips into my altar than drink the finest wine of Faerun…"
Hope's breath caught in her throat, and even after he released his hold on her, she was caught in that moment of unfathomable desire. His words of defilement must have only reached her ears, as no one but her flushed so pink. It was his knowing smirk that coaxed her into action.
"I'll just…go get some wine."
So she did, and walked toward their piles of belongings to rifle through the bags of supplies. She pulled out a bottle they could share and checked the label. Something rustled to her left, and Hope glanced over to find Gale, surrounded by his books, and skimming quickly through their contents.
Pursing her lips, Hope slowly approached him. She couldn't help herself; she still felt a little guilty about the way their last conversation went. If he had been some random person pissed, she wasn't giving them attention; that would be one thing. This was different. He was here, sitting on feelings he couldn't express because…he was a good friend. A better friend than she was, at least.
"Hey," she pursed her lips and held up the bottle, "want a drink?"
Gale glanced up and forced a tight smile, "No, thank you. I'm hoping to have an answer by sunup…" He glanced around the Underdark and chuckled. "Or something to that effect."
Snorting, she sat down next to him and leaned against the wall, "It doesn't all have to fall on your shoulders, you know."
"I suppose not," his features turned down as he released a soft sigh, "though I often feel the responsibility of it. All this power I can wield, and I do very little to show for it."
"You do a lot."
"Not as much as I'd like."
Hope frowned and leaned her head back, brow furrowed as she stared ahead, crossed her ankles, and muttered, "Well, you're better than me. That's for sure." She popped the cork and took a swig of the wine; her tongue tried to deflect the heavy taste of vinegar.
"I'm not, though," he murmured, and she turned to him to find him staring at her, "because I've not been honest with you."
Hope hesitated as she asked, "About what?"
"I've not been honest with you, any of you, about who I really am. What I am is a walking shadow of the promise I once held. I'm what one might call a Wizard prodigy. From an early age, I could not only control the weave but also compose it much like a musician. Such was my skill that it earned me the attention of the mother of magic herself. The Lady of Mysteries—The Goddess, Mystra. She revealed herself to me, and she became my teacher; in time, she became my muse, and later even my lover."
Staring at him, Hope frowned and angled her body toward him as she shook her head, "Uh…okay, go on."
"We enjoyed each other's company, mind, body, and soul. But even so, I desired more. No matter how powerful a Wizard we mortals can become, we never scratch more than the surface of the weave Mystra us in. There are boundaries she doesn't let us cross, yet every time I was with her, I stood on the precipice, gazing into the wonders that lay beyond, I sought to cross her boundaries."
Hope rested her chin on her knuckles, "So, she took you as a prodigy, molded you into what she wanted, and told you no when you could potentially learn how to overthrow her. Sounds healthy."
Sighing, he shook his head and frowned, "I swore to her my ambition was only to serve her better. She smiled and only told me to be contented. Inconceivable as it seems to me now, I shared a bed with a Goddess, and yet I wasn't satisfied. So, I sought to prove myself worthy to her. Instead, we come now to the crux of my folly."
She raised a brow and cringed, "You got her a bouquet and made a vow?"
"Hm," he shook his head, "I tried to give her more power. Power, I assumed, she'd rightfully adore. I was wrong…and therefore, punished."
"Punished how?"
"Here," he said, "place your hand over my heart."
Hope glanced down at his chest and back up at his face. Oh, he was serious. Though every tendril of instinct she had told her not to, she carefully placed her palm against his chest at the place of his heart. She was only then aware that he was letting her in, into…this. Whatever it was.
Clawing and gnashing, something was hungry. No, starved. It invaded her senses, and Hope's gums began to ache in protest, begging to allow her fangs to sink into something soft and fleshy. Instead, she yanked her hand away with a resounding gasp and held her hand to her chest as she stared at him, wide-eyed.
"How are you still alive?" Hope breathed, heart racing. "What even is that?"
"Thankfully, the moment I absorbed the fragment wasn't enough to kill me outright. It was only the beginning. This orb, for lack of a better term, is bowled up inside my chest that it needs to be fed as I absorb traces of the weave from potent enough sources, remains quiet or it ever to fully destabilize; however, I will…erupt."
Hope swallowed her dry throat as he continued, "I don't know the exact magnitude of the eruption, but given my studies, I'd say even a fragment as small as the one I carry would level a city the size of Waterdeep."
A ringing entered her ears as she slowly leaned back, staring at him with her heart pounding. But he didn't stop there, not even as the surroundings of Hope's vision clouded.
Gale reached forward and carefully took her hands in his, "The reason I know you are more powerful than you feign is that since meeting you…every touch is a surge of energy that feeds my hunger."
Parting her lips, she tried to say something…she wanted to say something, but no words came out.
"And I know that sounds terrible, perhaps it is, but I cannot help that I feel so…connected to you," he locked her eyes with his, trapping her in their tiny alcove that suddenly felt much smaller than it had before.
Searching her eyes, he carefully raised a hand and brushed the pad of his thumb gently against the crest of her cheek, "When I'm near you, I think not of the transgressions of my betrayal. The ever-rising guilt that I know I deserve to feel. As blasphemous as it sounds…I don't even think of Mystra."
Hope pursed her lips into a thin line as she leaned forward and whispered, "Gale, I say this with affection toward your situation…Mystra's kind of a bitch."
Pulling back a little, he frowned and stared at her, opened his mouth and closed it, "Well, that's a little—"
"Hard to hear?"
He released a sigh and shook his head, pursing his lips as he quirked a slight smile as she continued, "Also, I do take some offense to that. What you're telling me is you're more attracted to my power than you are to me. I'm insulted."
"I never said that." As if to prove it, his gaze flitted down her body and back up to her face. Sighing, he shook his head, "I truly wish I knew what draws me so near to you. What makes me want every inch of you…"
"Gale…" Hope frowned and glanced to the right, as if Astarion might somehow see them around the corner of the wall.
"I know. I know," he bit his lip, "though, you are the one who said you're not one for relationships. It seems that wasn't entirely true."
"I don't have a relationship. It's a mutual understanding based on sex in stressful situations. I'm not…I can't…"
"Why can't you?" He asked softly.
"Because I don't want it. It requires sacrifices I'm not willing to make. Never again."
Grabbing her sloshing bottle, she stood as he tilted his head up at her and asked, "And you're not going to share with me what that means?"
"Nope," she said and walked away, returning to the fire.
As she sat, she offered the bottle to Astarion. While he took it, he stared at her, "I suppose asking you if everything is okay won't give me an answer?"
"Would you want one?"
Astarion started to raise the bottle to his lips, watching her for a weighted moment before answering, "of course not…," and took a small swig.