Chapter Text
Astarion placed his hands behind him as he walked amongst the labyrinthian expanse of books. Shelves upon shelves stretched out before him, creating a sea of neatly organized lines full to the brim with the written word. For all his bitching and moaning about coming here today, he must admit to himself; he loved a library. Despite the circumstance- or rather no matter the circumstance- he could appreciate the wonder libraries possessed. A wonder that enchanted even his dead and buried soul.
Even so, he was to keep appearances.
This part of the library was rather quiet. The front sections where the main circulation desk was hummed with the soft murmuring of patrons coming in and out. Buzzing with friendly chatter and discussions of new arrivals and old favorites said arrivals failed to live up to. This was the largest public library in Waterdeep. In all of Faerûn. Astarion had been told that more people moved through here than they did a marketplace in the summer. Wizards do so love their books, didn’t they?
But this section seemed… neglected. Dust clung to the shelves a bit more than most the other ones. There were hardly any patrons here. In fact Astarion hadn’t seen anyone in quite a few minutes. It was bliss. Heaven on earth. Astarion ran his fingers down the spine of a book, tilting his head to read it’s title.
‘A Romantics Review of Love Poems Through the Ages.’
Astarion shook his head to himself and skimmed down the shelf, jumping ahead to another random book.
‘On Writing: A guide to-‘
Astarion straightened, taking himself out of this row of books and rounding the corner to begin his search there. He crossed his arms and bent to look at the next section, before movement made his head turn around instead.
A cart of books sat beside an ancient looking ladder. The ladder was propped against the bookcase, slotted securely (as securely as something so old could be) to the rungs that ran along the crown of the shelves. Upon this ladder, towards the top, was a human. He had his arms slotted between the rungs of the ladder so he could hold onto a large book and flip through it with his opposite hand. While he was doing this several books were being pulled from the shelf with several pairs of mage hand gently placing them on the cart below.
The human looked down at Astarion and raised his eyebrows, a warm, rather infuriatingly welcome, expression spreading across his face.
“A good afternoon to you, sir!” He smiled down at Astarion. “Let me know if you need something up here. I’ll gladly grab it for you.”
Astarion had pulled a book out of the shelf. He held it in his hands, opening it and flipping through it without looking. His eyes were up at the man.
“Am I to assume you work here?” Astarion asked. “Or are you just exceedingly helpful.”
“Oh, let’s say a bit of both. But I do indeed work here. Gale of Waterdeep, at your service.”
Hm.
Astarion hummed, turning away from this Gale on the ladder.
“Quite the title for a book keeper.” Astarion put the book back and placed his hands behind his back once more, leaning his head to the side to read the spines. He took a step to his side, crossing his leg behind him.
“Aha well… Yes I suppose so. Are you not from here yourself?” He hears the sound of Gale shifting on the ladder and the sound of books being organized on his cart. Was he shelf reading while talking to him?
“What gave me away?”
“Oh just an observation. We have a great deal of regulars. A good librarian can spot a newcomer from miles away after all. Besides, no one comes to the poetry section.” Gale chuckled softly.
Astarion’s mouth twinged a bit.
“You’ve never perused poetry for a lover? Are librarians truly as closed in as they say?”
He turns to look at Gale now. He always enjoyed watching a remark land on the ears of another. He finds Gale looking down at him with a crooked grin. His elbow is leant against the wrung of the ladder, his other hand holding onto his arm there. Astarion thinks for a moment that this Gale looks like he has just leaned up against a bar beside him.
“Looking up at the stars, I know quite well.
That, for all they care, I can go to hell.
But on earth indifference is the least we have to dread from man or beast.” Gale recites down to Astarion. “Shall I go on? It is a lovely poem. How should we like it were stars-”
Astarion waves his hand at him and turns back towards the book he was holding.
“What are you trying to woo me?” Astarion crouches and pulls out a thin book on the bottom shelf.
“Oh, a humble librarian like myself wouldn’t dream of it.” He can hear the smug little grin that overtakes the man.
“Have they banished you to this side of the library for a reason then, Gale of Waterdeep?”
“They.” Gale repeats, more so to himself. “Yes they have. I am fulfilling the honored tradition of shelf reading. Organizing and cleaning a shelf of books. It is important to keep up cleanliness in a library you know. The elimination of dust not only benefits our patrons but the books themselves! It seems no one’s been over to read this corner of our library in quite some time. Several titles are out of place. And out of date at that!”
Good lord they had sent him here for a reason. Once started the words falling out from this man cascaded like a stream breaking out to a river. For some reason Astarion stopped and turned to look at him.
“I’ve pulled at least twenty books in as many minutes.” The man sighs, shaking his head. He flicks his hand and with a soft motion both he and the cart of books are pulled forward by mage hands. They stop just to the side of Astarion. A mere step away. Gale begins his descent off the ladder. When he lands Astarion takes a practiced moment to take a good look at the man.
He has bright brown eyes that match his hair. There are grey streaks already highlighting the strands swept back from his face. They are tucked behind his ear at his temples. Astarion’s quick eyes dance around the edges of Gale’s. The librarian looks tired. Crimson eyes trails down a soft purple like vein that ghosts under his eye and trails down his neck. Like smoke wavering in night. What a fine neck he possessed. But he was not one of his usual… partners. He was not chiseled and perfectly sculpted like his master preferred. He was not young nor exceedingly beautiful. Gale was…
“Who are you searching so doggedly for, might I ask?” Gale placed another book on his cart.
“Excuse me?”
“I assume you’re looking for a particular author. You’ve been scanning the shelf for quite a while now. Could I point you towards a certain direction?”
Astarion thought for a moment. Poetry was not something he ever elected to share before. It was an interest to be guarded. Held close to his chest. Lest it be used against him. What would his siblings do with the knowledge that Astarion found solace in flowery words and stirring prose?
“Mary Oliver.” He says simply and plainly. Even that is too much to give.
Gale smiles a bit before pulling a serious sort of expression.
“What dark part of my soul shivers-“
“Preferably in a book, darling.”
Gale’s smile widens just a touch.
“Of course. Allow me to lead you. You were in the correct section, of course, but just a few rows away. You know I find Oliver’s use of-“
“Mr. Dekarios!”
Both Astarion and Gale (Mr. Dekarios?) turn to look at the voice. A young elven woman ran hurriedly up to the both of them. She panted lightly, holding a hand on her chest for a moment while she caught her breath.
“Hello, Susie.” Gale greeted her congenially. “Something the matter?”
“Oh you know, always a fire somewhere to put out.” She smiled, nodding her head to Astarion as a quick hello.
She was a tall, thin woman with long blond hair brought up about her head in a loose bun. She tucked a sun colored wisp of hair behind her pointed ear. A silver moon dangled from this ear, studded with a white gemstone. It glinted in the light and Astarion’s eyes lingered there before trailing down the side of her slender neck and across her collar bone. She was beautiful, stunning even, young, and full of energy. Blood rushed from her cheeks down to her chest from the short jog she must have done to get here.
“There’s someone from central here to speak with you.” Susie’s eyes were on Gale, but once she said this they seemed to trail back to Astarion. As if the she hadn’t truly gotten a look at him the first time. Their eyes met and she quickly turned back towards Gale. Blood bloomed behind her cheeks.
Gale sighed at what she said, nodding his head.
“About the donors event, no doubt.”
“Third person to stop by today!” Susie laughed a little too loudly, nerves evident in the pitch of her voice. She seemed stressed. Balancing on a knifes edge of nerves and workload. Astarion tucked this away in the back of his mind.
“Of course they all need to speak to our director and of course you keep moving where you are.”
Astarion finally turned his attention back to Gale at this. Was he truly the director? Interesting. Gale seemed to notice his eyes and looked back at him.
“I apologize.” Gale smiled. “How rude we’re being. It seems I’m needed at our front desk. Susie, would you mind showing our patron here where he could find the work of miss Mary Oliver?”
“Of course!” She said a bit too quickly. “Yes, I’d love to. Sorry to yank you away, Gale. I uh- oh! Gosh I almost forgot. I received a message from the house of Szarr that He and his uhm… I forgot the word that was used. Appointees? I think that’s it... Anyways, his people are apparently going to be here touring the library today before his arrival for the event.”
Gale gave a forced sort of smile. Astarion smiled as well. His was that of real and genuine amusement. Oh the things this Susie could spill for him. What fun it was to be in a conversation without the other two knowing it. Gale looked like a mixture of exhausted and suddenly extremely alert.
“Yes, well… we’ll speak about that more later, Susie. Thank you.” He turned to Astarion before leaving. The two of them shared a glance. Astarion realized Gale did not want to leave. This had his mouth curling upwards. Finally Gale tipped his head. “A pleasure to speak with you.”
“Oh, you have no idea, darling.” Astarion cooed. His hand curled around his crossed arm. He turned to the other librarian. “Lead on, my dear.”
His mind lingered on Gale of Waterdeep- Gale Dekarios- for a few moments as he was lead forward. He had been sent here to tour the library ahead of his Master’s arrival, yes. But Cazador Szarr was not interested in books. Not just any books to be exact. He was interested in a select few and, more importantly, the man that was in charge of them. This was after all the biggest library in Faerûn. In the middle of the city of magic. A great many rumors surrounded the humble director. That he was an outcast. That he was arrogant. Power hungry. Powerful.
‘Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.’
Astarion was, distressingly, unsure about this Gale of Waterdeep.
“So, do you read a lot of poetry?” A honey sweet voice pulled him back into focus. Susie was pressing a finger to her cheekbone and rubbing there gently, looking at Astarion with big, soft eyes.
A familiar feeling slowly took hold of Astarion. A numbness spread through his spine and blanketed across his mind. A practiced smile lit up his face. A measured pose. A soft and inviting touch to go along with his congenial conversation. He felt nothing at all as Susie tipped her head back to laugh at a joke he told.
She would make such a beautiful prize for his master.