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dnd_drow

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Which she doesn’t. Her eyes remained locked on the flat, stone face of the statue in front of her. Beautiful and serene, the goddess of all magic waits, palms out in welcome.
Come back, Tav thoughts spin a frantic refrain, over and over. Come back, come back, come back.
Come back to me.
She doesn’t see it as much as feel it when the Crown slips away from this plane; it’s as if her eyes had adjusted to seeing through a thin haze of shadows that has suddenly been lifted, and all of the sudden the world is a little brighter. A tiny sliver of weight that she hadn’t even realized had been there is lifted from her heart, a whisper that her mind had tuned out is silenced.
The sack on the floor sags and goes flat, now empty. Elminster’s eyes blaze with a blinding blue light and then fade, back to their normal pale shade.
Tav ignores him, and the Crown. She glares at the statue in front of her. Let him go.
Come back, come back, come back.
It takes her a moment to realize that Elminster is speaking Common, again, and a moment after that to realize that he is speaking to her.
She tears her eyes away from the statue. "What?"
The wizard smiles at her, not unkindly.
"Do you know," he says, "not many people are fortunate enough to be graced with two great loves in their lifetime."
Tav stares at him, but he’s quiet, seemingly waiting for her to respond.
"Well," she says after a long moment. "Gale is special."
"Aye," Elminster nods. "He is, indeed. And very fortunate, I should say."
Tav has just opened her mouth to reply—you have a very peculiar definition of "fortunate’—when there’s a twisting sensation in the air and the world around her shimmers and her heart seizes in her throat as Gale reappears in front of her, solid and whole as if he had never left.
He’s holding his hand over his chest, his palm pressed against where the mark of the orb had been, just between his collarbones, and staring up at the statue in a daze.
"Gale?" Tav takes a step towards him, reaching for him but not quite touching, her hand hovering in the air between them.
He turns to her, his eyes wide, and drops his hand away from his chest.
The skin is red and raw, but where the dark circle and weaving tendrils of the orb had been there was now the pale pink-white of a fresh scar, a groove dug into his skin in the same shape as the specter that had haunted him. She can see the pale tendrils climb his throat, fading as they reach up and over his jaw until they’re only just barely visible on the skin below his left eye.
But the orb—the ever present, looming knife to his throat, the endless hunger that had slowly consumed him for a year—was gone.
Something like a sob catches in Tav’s throat, spilling from her mouth in a breathy laugh.
"Are you—" She can’t quite bring herself to say it. "Is it—"
Gale surges towards her, catching her face in his hands resting his forehead against hers, his eyes slipping closed as an expression she could only describe as bliss softens his features.
"It’s done, my love," he whispers, and his voice is lighter than she thinks she’s ever heard it. "The orb is gone, Mystra—" he cuts himself off with a shaking exhale. "It’s done," he says, firmer now. "I’m free. We’re free."
She brings her hands up to cup the sides of his face and laughs, breathless and frantic, her thoughts spinning too fast for her to make any sense of.
She knew he could do it, knew he would do, but now that he has—
Free. The word echoes in her mind, over and over with every thunderous beat of her heart. Free.
Gale kisses her, grinning against her lips, and she kisses him back, again and again until her lungs hurt and they’re both laughing and holding each other and Elminster is saying something but she’s not listening, because there’s nothing he could say that would mean anything to her in that moment. There’s only her and Gale, together, his smile and his laugh and his kiss, and nothing and no one else matters to her at all.
Not Elminster, and not the statue beside him, the bright, shimmering veil of the Weave having lifted to leave behind only cold and lifeless stone, empty and silent.
Free, she thinks. And then: it’s time to go home.
There had been only a few more sticking points, before their departure.
"We are not taking Shovel." Gale repeats with a heavy sigh, tipping the last of the bottle of wine into his glass. This particular topic of debate had lasted well into the night.
"We can’t leave her!" She protests.
"Firstly, Shovel is not a "her.’ And secondly, darling—love of my life," he’d adds as she glares at him. "Shovel is a genuine, literal demon. We would not be leaving her—it—anywhere, we would simply be leaving her—it!—in the same place it always is, when not summoned to our side."
"The hells." Says Tav flatly.
"The hells." He agrees. He continues on as she opens her mouth to protest. "Which is where demons live, Tav. That, more than anywhere with the two of us, is its home. You know this as well as I do."
Tav sits back in her chair with a heavy sigh. "We should have given her summoning spell to Wyll and Karlach, before they went."
"Yes, I’m sure they would have been thrilled to receive such a thoughtful parting gift." He says dryly. "After all, what situation isn’t brightened by the clarion call of, "it’s fisting time’?"
The debate ends in a draw. Tav agrees that they wouldn’t summon Shovel until they were thoroughly settled, and that if the little quasit hated it there—which Gale assures her it would—they would release it, and leave it at that.
After that it was only a matter of logistics, and sending word of their arrival ahead with a the help of a series of Sending spells.
Gale sends the few trunks containing every belonging that has made up her entire life for these past few months on ahead of them with a flick of his wrist, a twist of magic that he barely needs to concentrate on.
Still, she thinks, he seems a little surprised that it works. Or, if not surprised, relieved. The illithid tadpole may have stunted his powers, but the orb had done plenty of damage on its own, long before that, and it seemed that little by little, since freeing himself from its gnawing hunger, his lost magic was beginning to return to him.
Still, he doesn’t balk when she suggests they use the already established circle of teleportation inside of Sorcerous Sundries as much as she thought he might.
"Better to save my strength, I suppose," he says, nodding sagely. "Who knows what sort of state the tower is in, after all this time—Tara was looking after it, but it seems she developed a taste for Baldurian pigeons, and who knows how long it’s been since someone was there to tidy up the place. Open the windows, let a nice draft in."
Rolan is more than happy to lend them the space—and any time they wish to return, he tells them, they need only send word, and the circle will be open to them.
Tav kisses the young tiefling on the cheek before they go, and his bright red skin flushes to an even deeper shade as he ducks his head, pointedly ignoring the snickering jeers of Cal and Lia.
Scratch bounds into the circle with them, tail wagging and tongue lolling, excited to for the opportunity to discover a whole new city’s worth of secrets and treasures. She had explained it all to him before they went, with the help of a quick potion, as well as given him a heads up about the fact that he would likely be sharing his new home with a talking, winged cat.
"Tara is not a cat," Gale had piped in from behind her, where he was busy shoving the last of his books into their bags.
Tav had ignored him. For Scratch’s purposes, Tara was a cat.
Not to be chased, she had made sure to make that point very clear, lest he wished to have his beautiful, pristine white coat singed quite thoroughly.
Scratch had promised that he understood. He liked cats, he’d told her, and he promised he wouldn’t chase her. Not unless she wanted him to.
As for the tressym herself, Tara would be joining them shortly, she had informed them. Apparently she had her own business in Baldur’s Gate to wrap up before taking her leave.
Tav imagined that Commander Lightfeather and his subordinates in the Sword Coast Couriers would be much relieved to have her gone, but she kept those thoughts to herself.
The next Sending spell had gone to Gale’s mother, whose response had been so long and enthusiastic it had exceeded the limit of the spell, and Gale had had to send another—and another, and another, until he had finally managed to sort out an agreement that they would go to her house first, before heading to his tower. That point seemed non-negotiable.
Gale had smiled at her, apologetic and slightly frazzled, as if the opportunity to visit his mother—his family—was some great burden.
In truth, she can’t remember a time when she’s felt quite so excited, so light, burdened only with the anxiety that usually precedes meeting the family of one’s lover.
One’s betrothed, she corrects her own thoughts, a dizzying rush if warmth flooding through her. They haven’t had much time to discuss that, and all the things that come with it, but it lingers between them like a kiss.
 It’s with these thoughts, warm and pleasant and giddy, that she steps through the circle, Gale’s hand clasped firmly in her own. She closes her eyes as the magic swirls around them and the world shifts and changes, and with a rushing sound and sensation almost like falling the three of them are shunted through the world in a blur.
Tav blinks and the world reforms, and Rolan and Cal and Lia no longer standing before them, replaced instead by a gaggle of rather bored looking wizards, waiting for their own turn through the teleportation circle that resides inside the House of Wonders.
A few of them recognize Gale, and Tav lets herself melt into the background as he weaves his way through them, dodging curious questions and pleasant greetings with the practiced ease of a well-seasoned politician.
The temple is beautiful—a school as well as a temple, Gale’s told her, and a place he spent most of his time, when not in his own tower—but she finds herself itching to be outside, away from the carved relief’s bearing the face of the goddess of magic, away from the hushed whispers of reverence from the wizards within.
Gale guides her out, and Scratch keeps close to their side as they descend a steep set of stairs and make their exit through an open set of heavy double doors, out into the city proper, where the sun is just starting to slip into the horizon, casting a beautiful pink and golden hue through the sky.
Waterdeep, at first blush, does not strike Tav as entirely too dissimilar from Baldur’s Gate. It’s still a massive city nestled against the sea, bustling with people and magic and chaos. There are a few things that stand out to her, however.
The first is the massive stone statues that are scattered throughout the city, towering higher than many of the buildings around them. Gale had warned her about the Walking Statues, but that still wasn’t enough to prepare her for the jolt of anxiety that spiked through her at the sight, and although the ancient titans seemed dormant enough—and Gale had sworn that they were—she couldn’t help but eye them with suspicion.
The second is the way that Gale’s posture changes, from the moment he takes his first slow, deep breath of the clean, salty air. It’s as if a physical wave of relief had washes over him: his eyes close, his shoulders releasing a tension she hadn’t realized they’d been holding as he takes a long, slow breath. In through his nose, out in a blissful sigh.
Tav waits, one hand gently ruffling Scratch’s ears.
He gives her a slightly sheepish smile, when his eyes finally open.
"Feels good to be home?" She asks, tilting her head.
Gale takes her hand. "It does. Even more so to be here with such fine company as yourself." He squeezes her hand in his own before shaking his head and clearing his throat. "Still—there will be plenty of time to dwell on that, I’ll wager. For now, let’s not keep my mother waiting, lest we never hear the end of it."
Gale’s mother resides in the North Ward, adjacent to the Sea Ward, where they came out, and where Gale’s own tower sits, a tall, dark shape on the horizon that she squints at when he points it out, but can’t make out too much detail in the dim light of the setting sun.
They make their way there, Gale seeming to become lighter with every step, every breath of the clean, salty air, his eyes bright and alert, bouncing from place to place as he fills Tav in on the history of their surroundings, the unique details of every shop they pass, and quirks of the merchants within.
The house of Morena Dekarios is a tidy, two story affair, with a small front yard that, if the neighboring houses are any indication, was meant to house a neatly manicured lawn and perhaps a stone statue or two, but instead is nearly overflowing with a flourishing garden, a mixture of vegetables and flowers, planted together in a chaotic pattern that Tav can’t make any sense of. Large, heavy golden sunflowers droop over the walkway to greet them as they approach the sturdy wooden door, and Tav can’t but smile.
The place radiates warmth, even from the exterior.
Gale takes a moment to gather himself once they reach the door, taking a few quick breaths.
She doesn’t pry, but she knows that some part of him never expected to ever make it back here: to be standing here, on his mother’s doorstep, once again must come as a bit of shock, require a little bit of a recalibration. 
She squeezes his hand in her own and he smiles back at her before lifting his hand to knock.
The door swings open almost as soon as his knuckles make contact—surely before any sound could have been heard by someone inside—and an older woman surges out, nearly a head shorter than Gale but bearing the same silver threaded chestnut hair, though hers is curlier.
And more silver than chestnut, Tav thinks as the woman lets out a sharp cry and wraps her arms around Gale, pulling him into a tight hug.
Gale laughs, the sound of an invisible weight lifted from his shoulders for the first time in recent memory, and hugs the woman just as fiercely.
"Nine months, Gale—" The woman cries out, her voice muffled by his shoulder. The outrage in her words is undercut by the wobble of emotion in her tone.
"Hello, mother dearest." Gale rests his head on top of hers and speaks into the wild tangles of her hair.
"Hardly a word from you for nine months—" His mother continues, and her eyes are shining when she pulls back from him, even as she swats his across the chest with an open hand. "I had to rely on poor Tara for news about my own son! And then you go and disappear on her, and we’re both left in the dark—"
"And then nothing from you, for months! Months, Gale! Tara hadn’t heard from you, Elminster wasn’t returning my letters, and the bloody bastards at the House of Wonders were absolutely no help—"
"Going on about how you’d "forsaken your position as Chosen’ and "turned your back on the Weave.’" She makes air quotes with her fingers and rolls her eyes, vitriol dripping from every word.
Tav likes her already.
"And then they had the unmitigated gall to try to shoo me out there like I was some strumpet overstaying my welcome in some lordling’s house and his wife had just returned home. So I told them—"
The exasperation in Gale’s voice is finally enough to detour her from her thoughts and she peers up at him through narrowed eyes. "Don’t you take that tone with me, Gale Dekarios."
Gale sighs, and Tav tries her best to smother her smile.
"Mother," he tries again, calmer this time, and when she nods her approval he shifts his body to the side and extends a hand out towards Tav. "This is Tav. She’s—"
"Tav!" The older woman’s demeanor shifts completely, and she rushes forward to sweep Tav up into a great hug. "Ohh, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you, dear! I’ve been so worried about my Gale, out there all alone. First he was holed up in that awful, stuffy old tower of his—"
Gale makes an outraged scoff. "It is not stuffy—"
She ignores him. "For a whole year! And before that, I hardly ever saw him, always so preoccupied with his books and his studies and his..." She trails off, searching for the right word, and Gale makes a distressed noise low in his throat. His mother waves the train of thought away. "Anyway—I’m just so, so happy that he’s finally come home, and that he’s brought you with him! Tara and I have just been over the moon about the two of you—"
"Tara?" Gale stands a little straighter. "You’ve been gossiping about me with Tara?"
His mother clicks her tongue and rolls her eyes. "It’s hardly gossip, Gale. Tara just keeps me in the loop as to how you’re doing with the occasional Sending spell or a pop in for an evening snack. And someone had to tell me what was going on, since you clearly weren’t going to—"
"I didn’t want to worry you, mother." His shoulders slump as he sighs. "There was so much going on and I hardly knew what to make of it myself, half the time. I just thought—"
"You just thought you knew better than your own mother, to keep me in the dark about such things, hmm?" Morena eyes him critically and Gale falls silent. Satisfied, she turns back to Tav, her hands clasped together tightly. "Anyway, enough about all of that—it’s over, and you’re home. You’re both home."
Tav returns her smile, shooting a sympathetic look to Gale out of the corner of her eye. He shakes his head, but the corners of his lips twitch with the hint of a smile of his own.
"Oh, goodness, Gale." His mother sighs and gives him another reproachful look. "How long were going to let me go on, and just leave her standing there? Come in, come in, both of you!" She hurries back inside the house, giving Gale one last light swat on the shoulder as she does. "I’ve got dinner just about ready for you! Gale, you do remember where the table is, don’t you? It’s been so very long since your last visit, I wouldn’t be surprised if it had slipped your mind completely. What with all the terribly important things you’ve been up to—much more important than visiting your poor, lonely mother!"
Gale looks slightly indignant, but he holds his tongue, and Tav can’t hide her grin as she slips her hand into his and follows him into the house, Scratch at her heels.
He leads her through a short hallway into a dining room, to a small table that is laden high with different dishes: roasted vegetables, various meats, sliced bread with steam still rising from it. A dozen different but equally delicious smells surround them at once, overwhelming, and Tav’s mouth waters. At her side Scratch’s ears perk up, and he eyes the table hopefully.