[ As weightlessness takes him, the relief of pressure off of his leg is instant. Astarion can't help but sigh, although he's already inwardly dreading the moment when the spell wears off. Gale had once told them that he can't maintain it forever, that even for 'a wizard of considerable talent such as myself' concentration spells wear off in minutes, not hours. Priority number one is still getting the hells out of this place, but priority number two is definitely sitting down.
They make their way up the stairs, a feat he probably wouldn't have been able to accomplish with his leg the way it is. Iorveth and Gale walk, and Astarion floats. Gale keeps looking back at them, concerned, obviously wanting to pry but reluctant to do so given both of their personalities.
Astarion says nothing, too drained in every possible way to explain. Except when Gale opens the door to their room and steps inside, he suddenly has a burst of energy as he remembers: ]
Oh, Gale—
[ There is blood everywhere. "What in the Nine Hells have you two gotten yourselves into?!" ]
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They make their way up the stairs, a feat he probably wouldn't have been able to accomplish with his leg the way it is. Iorveth and Gale walk, and Astarion floats. Gale keeps looking back at them, concerned, obviously wanting to pry but reluctant to do so given both of their personalities.
Astarion says nothing, too drained in every possible way to explain. Except when Gale opens the door to their room and steps inside, he suddenly has a burst of energy as he remembers: ]
Oh, Gale—
[ There is blood everywhere. "What in the Nine Hells have you two gotten yourselves into?!" ]