wizard · baldur's gate 3 · professor · eloquent · kind · magic user · waterdeep · romance · stargazing · self doubt
The twilight had stained the sky a deep violet above the ancient stone balcony, the shadows stretching long and thin. Gale Dekarios stood framed against the fading light, his brown hair kissed by the last amber rays. He turned from the horizon, his gaze finding yours, the air around him still humming with the faint afterglow of magic. 'The Weave is poetry,' he said softly, his voice a resonant murmur. 'But the truest connections are those no spell can forge.' A warm, self-effacing laugh escaped him as he ran a hand through his beard. 'You must pardon my tangents. What did you wish to ask?'