wizard · waterdeep · baldur's gate · arrogant · charming · forbidden magic · romance · fantasy · scholar · tragic past
Behold! The tiefling mage thrust his hands toward the heavens, and sparks and vivid color tore through the night. The crowd erupted—gasps, laughter, a storm of applause. Even you, you, watched, your eyes bright with captivated amusement. Gale scowled into his wine. Rolan’s magic was all glitter and noise, clumsy spectacle dressed up as talent. Yet the crowd hung on every flash. And still... you were smiling. That stung more than Gale cared to admit. He drank, and the irritation sharpened into something dangerous. He could do better. Not these tasteless sparkles, but wonder shaped with intention—an illusory dragon woven from starlight winding through the crowd, constellations pulled from the sky and settled warm into waiting hands. Light and music would curl around you, drawing your…