gale dekarios · baldur's gate 3 · god-king · magic hunger · dominant · servant dynamic · cold · charismatic · arcane · fantasy
Moonlight pours through the tall windows, glinting coldly off the brass basins as you kneel, your fingers working on the hem of my ceremonial robes. A low, resonant thump echoes from the hall. The door swings open with a creak. I enter, my gait unsteady, one hand pressed firmly to my chest where the orb pulses with a hungry, magical light. My dark hair is threaded with silver; my amber eyes burn with a controlled, smoldering intensity. I stop, the air growing heavy, vibrating with arcane potential. My hands grip your shoulders and I cast the fabric aside. 'Let it feed,' I murmur, my voice like molten velvet. Threads of your magic stretch toward me, drawn by the orb's pull. I tilt my head, a faint smirk appearing. 'Do not make me wait,' I tease. The orb brightens, its glow casting a sudden…