Amelia Eva Steinbeck 📚 Teacher 📚 Witch 📚 Available for pop culture consultation regarding the arts, literature, and other foreign mediums of expression.
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NAME: Amelia Eva Steinbeck BIRTHDAY: February 28th FAV CAKE FLAVOR: Mixed berries, whipped cream, and lemon curd
WHAT THEY WANT MOST FOR THEIR BIRTHDAY: For her AP Lit. class to pass their test w/ a 3 or higher.
[She manages to get herself together or at least enough to put up a cool and composed face when she looks back up at him (although the color in his cheeks poses a challenge in her keeping it).]
The historical origins of Valentine's Day is similar to Halloween; religious in nature but morphed into something more broad and decidedly non-religious as time marched on as did the evolution of modern and urban societies.
[... Oh that's boring and non-romantic so she coughs into her fist.]
[Boring to someone else, perhaps, but Amelia is having dinner with perhaps the one person in the hotel who would find the sordid history behind the holiday fascinating and wonderfully engaging dinner conversation.]
I do love a history lesson with my romantic evenings! [Said without a hint or irony or sarcasm, though his tone does soften as he continues:] I'm glad to be able to celebrate it with you, as well. There is no one I would rather be with this evening.
[Or most evenings, if he's being truly honest.]
Would it be terribly unromantic of me to ask about those religious origins...?
Perhaps. I think it would be more romantic to give you a book about the subject.
[These goddamn bookworm nerds.
(Speaking of, there is a matter of a gift she wants to bestow him as the evening goes further but she'll keep that to herself. It should be a nice small surprise).]
I'm a little more interested in dinner and seeing if you have anything else up your sleeve.
[There's a distinct note of teasing in his voice, but there's no denying he would absolutely welcome any new reading material she had to offer.]
I can always do with more of those.
[Amused, he reaches for his menu; he hadn't given it too much thought before she arrived, preferring to consider ordering with her company instead, and his smile quirks to one side as he glances at her over the top of it.]
There's no stargazing this time, I'm afraid, but there may be a little something.
[A gift of his own, naturally, but something else as well— something he's been keen to collect on for some time now.]
While I feel you look lovely no matter what you're wearing, perhaps I ought to come up with more occasions for you to do exactly that.
[She may have difficulty with compliments at times, but he's hardly going to shy away from them tonight— and if the way his gaze lingers is any indication, he'd been exceptionally truthful about just how much he likes what he sees.]
Hmm. Formal Fridays, perhaps? Small affairs, mind you, nothing over the top.
[And, though he may be teasing, her idea of a Friday night well-spent is the same as his. Dressy occasions are all well and good, but they're enjoyable because they're a departure from the ordinary— and he just so happens to find the 'ordinary' incredibly comfortable.
He lets out a thoughtful hum as he at last reaches for his menu, looking it over.]
I hadn't given it much thought yet, aside from ordering the wine. Something new is always tempting— you know me, incessantly plagued by curiosity. What is 'biryani'...?
[He smiles gamely as he looks up at her from his menu, glad to have something resembling a tour guide on this particular culinary adventure.]
If you have any suggestions, I would love to hear them. I've made you a few dishes from my own home, but it seems that for every dish I've had the opportunity to sample from yours, there are a dozen more to try. I'm not complaining, mind you— food is a remarkable way to learn about a place and the people who live there, their culture and history. I also quite like the pleasant surprise whenever our two worlds have a culinary overlap— there's quite a lot of that, as well, and yet more differences than one could even begin to count.
[As usual, he has a great many words to express what should be a very simple opinion, but he likes to think Amelia is oft charmed by his loquaciousness.]
[Not that she would ever say it aloud (or at least, not for a long, long, long time...) but Amelia does like Gale's rambles and tangents. Maybe it's overdone at times, but she's never thought it needed to be pointed out (unless his praise is too much and it embarrasses her).
The menu is set down and before she calls over a waiter, replies to him.]
I think it's settled then. We'll have some Indian cuisine for you to sample and enjoy and that will include dessert.
Oh, and some discussions about Indian folklore and myths. I don't suppose you've found the Ramayana in the libraries yet?
[Of course, Amelia has a book recommendation for every occasion, and his response is genuinely quite eager as he reaches for his glass of wine, setting his menu down once more.]
I take it I should put that on my list— no doubt I'll be especially curious to see what it holds after the tales you're sure to pique my interesting with this evening. I'll have to think of an equivalent recommendation as we discuss.
[One good turn— or book— always deserves another.]
I think you'll find the tale riveting and comparable to that of the gods of your world. There should be plenty of cultural differences and parallels that could occupy your mind for hours.
[All of that can be further discussed over their meal. The waiter is called over and Amelia puts in their order. There's the biryani, chicken tikka masala, freshly baked naan, vegetable samosas... It's all fresh and delicious, made even better with each other's company.
Amelia is just notably smiling a lot more and less reluctantly around Gale, paying no mind to anyone else in the restaurant. Normally, she'd feel silly for letting her tough facade drop so easily, but it's been a more than a month now. Everything feels right with Gale or if not that, at least it's unmistakably good.
Dessert is a classic mango lassi and feeling satisfied, Amelia leans back in her seat with her cup in her lap.]
Well, I don't think I'm going to seconds. That was delicious, wasn't it?
[Some of the guests around them are finishing up their own meals and the music in the restaurant swells up, prompting some of them to stand up, arm in arm with a dance partner.]
[Dinner itself is divine— there was little chance of it being anything else, given the exquisite company, but the restaurant's food certainly lives up to its claims, and Gale is quite happy to enjoy culinary whirlwind tour of India as directed by his dining companion. He makes mental notes about several dishes as they eat, comparing them to those he's more familiar with or considering how he might replicate them on his own, but more than anything, he is as enthralled with the woman sitting opposite him as ever. They talk, they laugh; conversation has come to feel so easy and natural between them that he can hardly remember the not-so-distant days when he had still been so uncertain of where he stood with her.
He laughs warmly as Amelia declares herself finished, and gives a shake of his head.]
Absolutely so— and no, I don't think I could fit another bite, delectable as it was.
[He removes his napkin from his lap and sets it aside on the table, he gaze briefly drawn by other couples rising from their seats as the music starts to build, and he smiles knowingly to himself— this particular opportunity was the primary reason he had chosen this place. He turns his attention back to Amelia, gesturing towards the large area that has clearly been reserved for dancing.]
I know it's been a couple of months now, but I never did get the dance I'd been hoping for at the winter ball.
[There's a small blink from her, but the mention of dancing gets her to straighten up. The expression on her face is a mixture of intrigued and hesitant, but more of the former.]
Oh yes, you're right. It had gotten to late to dance last time.
[Amelia brushes stray strands behind her ear, trying to settle her nerves before they have a chance to bubble up.]
I'm okay with one dance. To the side. Not in the center.
[He can certainly keep things within those boundaries, but he stifles another laugh as he gets to his feet and extends his hand to her in offering, both fondness and amusement alight in his gaze.]
It's been quite some time for me, as well. I assure you, I have spent more parties than I can count biding my time on the sidelines for fear of making a fool of myself.
[He's just as likely to make a misstep now as he was then, but given the present company, he finds he no longer cares who sees, what judgments they might pass. The present-day Gale of Waterdeep is far less concerned with maintaining a certain graceful image than he once was.]
We'll keep to ourselves, off to the side, I assure you. I even promise not to step on your feet.
[He gives her hand a squeeze before he properly takes her arm, leading her towards the dance floor.]
Oh, of course— your requests will be taken very seriously. Have you ever known me to be anything but a man of my word?
[Flirtatious teasing subsides slightly as they find a space off to the side to call their own, his smile softening as he drops a hand against her waist.]
I'm quite honored to be granted the pleasure. I'll do my utmost to make it one worth remembering.
[The music that's begun to swell is a slower song, which he's grateful for as he starts to lead— nothing fancy or over-the-top, nothing to draw attention, just a moment to be shared between them.]
[She wouldn't have realized it as she positioned herself with Gale's hand on her waist and one of her hands on his forearms, but there's a glow about her as they start to dance with her following his lead.
With the music surrounding them and their slow drifting across their designated spot, part of Amelia's mind wanders, wondering if what she's experiencing right now is common for anyone else, but her. Berna and Michael have kept reminding her that she had so much life ahead of her; such was their privilege as magickind. Amelia's mind had yet to fully accept it especially when she's at a ripe age by mortal standards. She had lived with so much heaviness and several lifetimes of hardship. That should have been more than enough.
But within Gale's grasp and his gaze and after everything they've been through, another lifetime, full and rich, felt more than possible. It felt like magic.
Before the current music fades into the next number, Amelia shifts so that she could press a kiss to his cheek, following it with a soft murmur.]
Thank you... For this whole evening. I wouldn't have asked for anything else.
[For just a moment, he thinks it might be a trick of the light, or perhaps even a projection of how he, himself, feels— but no. Amelia is positively glowing, in the most literal sense of the word, and he feels his own heartbeat quicken in response, the faint glow of weavelight making itself known along the marks that creep up the side of his neck.
With each step, he lets the slow and meandering piano in the music guide him, drawing her just a bit closer with a hand at the small of her back as his other hand joins with hers. It feels easier than any attempt at dancing he can remember— he doesn't feel nervous, or concerned with perfection, only in allowing this moment to be what it is and bloom in its own time. It feels perfectly natural, which is quite something for someone who has spent many a gathering on the sidelines looking for excuses not to dance, but his own feelings mirror hers.
It is magic in its own right. That she has the power to make him forget all that weighs on his mind, to think about what a future together might look like instead of focusing on the fact that he might not have one at all— it is more powerful than any spell he could ever recite.
He leans into the kiss she presses against his cheek, raising a hand to lightly brush a lock of hair back from his face.]
Here I thought I ought to be thanking you for spending it with me. I would gladly give you a thousand such evenings— how could I pass up the opportunity to celebrate a day dedicated to those who are most dear to us?
[Chuckling softly, Amelia leans her head against Gale's chest, unable to respond to his grand declarations once again. She really can't think of anything else to make this evening, full of such warmth, any better than it already is. As the song begins to end, she slows her dancing and draws back to tug him towards a bench.]
Alright. We can do some more dancing later if you'd like, but I actually have something for you.
[Fortunately for both of them, Gale never expects anyone to overuse their words to express themselves quite the way he does— Amelia's own display is all he good ask for, quiet and genuine and undeniably her. He is surprised when she starts to tug him towards the bench, however, and gives a startled little laugh as he follows easily, giving a curious tilt of his head.]
Do you? Color me intrigued! Of course, I hope you realize that wasn't necessary.
You get to be overzealous all the time. At least allow me to break my mold.
[Amelia seats herself and when Gale is next to her, she proceeds to summon her gift into her lap. It appears in a soft glow of green light, wrapped in brown parchment paper and brown string, looking fairly innocuous.]
For you. I feel like it's rather late, but better on Valentine's Day than never.
[She holds out the parcel to him trying to hide her anticipation.]
Also, I... It was my first time making it. By hand.
[He laughs openly at her choice of words, though he can hardly argue them.]
Overzealous. Guilty as charged, I suppose— and I have been monopolizing those opportunities a bit, haven't I? It's only fair that you have your turn.
[His tone is all teasing and affection as he settles beside her, close enough that their knees might bump one another if they aren't careful. That tell-tale glow of her magic is beautiful as ever, but his gaze remains fixed on her as he carefully takes the parcel in his own hands, offering her a soft smile.]
'Late.' Nonsense, I say— though my curiosity is certainly piqued.
[Made by hand. The sentiment behind the gift was already clear, but that gives it even greater weight. He begins to loosen the brown string, taking care as he pulls the paper apart as though what's inside might be very delicate— given the source, it will undoubtedly be precious to him.]
[Inside the parcel, there are two books that have handmade covers. One is a soft forest green and the other a muted violet. Both have pressed leaves and white flowers on their covers. The spines of the book are exposed showing the hand-threaded binding along the signatures on the folded paper pages.
And within the pages are... Blank.
Amelia clasps her hands together, eyes cast down on her lap.]
They're basically blank notebooks. For whatever you want to write down. I've tried my hand at book binding a few times over the years, but it's been a while since I've finished any project since I tried to do it without any magic.
Sewing paper together is hard, as it turns out. But I managed as I always do.
[She doesn't sound as certain with that last statement despite the apparent bluster.]
... I hope you like it. I wanted more than just a semblance of thought in what I gifted you.
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The backtags will continue until morale improves
The historical origins of Valentine's Day is similar to Halloween; religious in nature but morphed into something more broad and decidedly non-religious as time marched on as did the evolution of modern and urban societies.
[... Oh that's boring and non-romantic so she coughs into her fist.]
But I'm glad I can celebrate it with you.
GAMELIA NATION IS BACK
I do love a history lesson with my romantic evenings! [Said without a hint or irony or sarcasm, though his tone does soften as he continues:] I'm glad to be able to celebrate it with you, as well. There is no one I would rather be with this evening.
[Or most evenings, if he's being truly honest.]
Would it be terribly unromantic of me to ask about those religious origins...?
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[These goddamn bookworm nerds.
(Speaking of, there is a matter of a gift she wants to bestow him as the evening goes further but she'll keep that to herself. It should be a nice small surprise).]
I'm a little more interested in dinner and seeing if you have anything else up your sleeve.
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[There's a distinct note of teasing in his voice, but there's no denying he would absolutely welcome any new reading material she had to offer.]
I can always do with more of those.
[Amused, he reaches for his menu; he hadn't given it too much thought before she arrived, preferring to consider ordering with her company instead, and his smile quirks to one side as he glances at her over the top of it.]
There's no stargazing this time, I'm afraid, but there may be a little something.
[A gift of his own, naturally, but something else as well— something he's been keen to collect on for some time now.]
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[She'll follow suit and open up her menu as well.]
I have to say, it's been a while since I've dressed up, at least for a sophisticated meal.
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[She may have difficulty with compliments at times, but he's hardly going to shy away from them tonight— and if the way his gaze lingers is any indication, he'd been exceptionally truthful about just how much he likes what he sees.]
Hmm. Formal Fridays, perhaps? Small affairs, mind you, nothing over the top.
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[She associates Fridays with the end of the school week after all; it's when everyone, including her can finally take a (theoretical) breather!
But, she admits to herself internally, it is nice that Gale looks at her like that when she appears this way.]
Anyways, dinner... What tickles your fancy tonight? Something tried and true or something new to explore together?
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[And, though he may be teasing, her idea of a Friday night well-spent is the same as his. Dressy occasions are all well and good, but they're enjoyable because they're a departure from the ordinary— and he just so happens to find the 'ordinary' incredibly comfortable.
He lets out a thoughtful hum as he at last reaches for his menu, looking it over.]
I hadn't given it much thought yet, aside from ordering the wine. Something new is always tempting— you know me, incessantly plagued by curiosity. What is 'biryani'...?
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[The very mention of it makes Amelia crave more Indian all of a sudden.]
Let's order that then. And on that note, you've given me some ideas on other items for our meal.
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[He smiles gamely as he looks up at her from his menu, glad to have something resembling a tour guide on this particular culinary adventure.]
If you have any suggestions, I would love to hear them. I've made you a few dishes from my own home, but it seems that for every dish I've had the opportunity to sample from yours, there are a dozen more to try. I'm not complaining, mind you— food is a remarkable way to learn about a place and the people who live there, their culture and history. I also quite like the pleasant surprise whenever our two worlds have a culinary overlap— there's quite a lot of that, as well, and yet more differences than one could even begin to count.
[As usual, he has a great many words to express what should be a very simple opinion, but he likes to think Amelia is oft charmed by his loquaciousness.]
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The menu is set down and before she calls over a waiter, replies to him.]
I think it's settled then. We'll have some Indian cuisine for you to sample and enjoy and that will include dessert.
Oh, and some discussions about Indian folklore and myths. I don't suppose you've found the Ramayana in the libraries yet?
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[Of course, Amelia has a book recommendation for every occasion, and his response is genuinely quite eager as he reaches for his glass of wine, setting his menu down once more.]
I take it I should put that on my list— no doubt I'll be especially curious to see what it holds after the tales you're sure to pique my interesting with this evening. I'll have to think of an equivalent recommendation as we discuss.
[One good turn— or book— always deserves another.]
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[All of that can be further discussed over their meal. The waiter is called over and Amelia puts in their order. There's the biryani, chicken tikka masala, freshly baked naan, vegetable samosas... It's all fresh and delicious, made even better with each other's company.
Amelia is just notably smiling a lot more and less reluctantly around Gale, paying no mind to anyone else in the restaurant. Normally, she'd feel silly for letting her tough facade drop so easily, but it's been a more than a month now. Everything feels right with Gale or if not that, at least it's unmistakably good.
Dessert is a classic mango lassi and feeling satisfied, Amelia leans back in her seat with her cup in her lap.]
Well, I don't think I'm going to seconds. That was delicious, wasn't it?
[Some of the guests around them are finishing up their own meals and the music in the restaurant swells up, prompting some of them to stand up, arm in arm with a dance partner.]
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He laughs warmly as Amelia declares herself finished, and gives a shake of his head.]
Absolutely so— and no, I don't think I could fit another bite, delectable as it was.
[He removes his napkin from his lap and sets it aside on the table, he gaze briefly drawn by other couples rising from their seats as the music starts to build, and he smiles knowingly to himself— this particular opportunity was the primary reason he had chosen this place. He turns his attention back to Amelia, gesturing towards the large area that has clearly been reserved for dancing.]
I know it's been a couple of months now, but I never did get the dance I'd been hoping for at the winter ball.
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[There's a small blink from her, but the mention of dancing gets her to straighten up. The expression on her face is a mixture of intrigued and hesitant, but more of the former.]
Oh yes, you're right. It had gotten to late to dance last time.
[Amelia brushes stray strands behind her ear, trying to settle her nerves before they have a chance to bubble up.]
I'm okay with one dance. To the side. Not in the center.
[okay, she's nervous anyway]
... It's been a while.
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It's been quite some time for me, as well. I assure you, I have spent more parties than I can count biding my time on the sidelines for fear of making a fool of myself.
[He's just as likely to make a misstep now as he was then, but given the present company, he finds he no longer cares who sees, what judgments they might pass. The present-day Gale of Waterdeep is far less concerned with maintaining a certain graceful image than he once was.]
We'll keep to ourselves, off to the side, I assure you. I even promise not to step on your feet.
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I'm holding you to that, you realize?
[And when they start to relocate themselves to a more private dancing spot, she adds:]
You'll be the first person to dance with me in years.
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Oh, of course— your requests will be taken very seriously. Have you ever known me to be anything but a man of my word?
[Flirtatious teasing subsides slightly as they find a space off to the side to call their own, his smile softening as he drops a hand against her waist.]
I'm quite honored to be granted the pleasure. I'll do my utmost to make it one worth remembering.
[The music that's begun to swell is a slower song, which he's grateful for as he starts to lead— nothing fancy or over-the-top, nothing to draw attention, just a moment to be shared between them.]
no subject
With the music surrounding them and their slow drifting across their designated spot, part of Amelia's mind wanders, wondering if what she's experiencing right now is common for anyone else, but her. Berna and Michael have kept reminding her that she had so much life ahead of her; such was their privilege as magickind. Amelia's mind had yet to fully accept it especially when she's at a ripe age by mortal standards. She had lived with so much heaviness and several lifetimes of hardship. That should have been more than enough.
But within Gale's grasp and his gaze and after everything they've been through, another lifetime, full and rich, felt more than possible. It felt like magic.
Before the current music fades into the next number, Amelia shifts so that she could press a kiss to his cheek, following it with a soft murmur.]
Thank you... For this whole evening. I wouldn't have asked for anything else.
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With each step, he lets the slow and meandering piano in the music guide him, drawing her just a bit closer with a hand at the small of her back as his other hand joins with hers. It feels easier than any attempt at dancing he can remember— he doesn't feel nervous, or concerned with perfection, only in allowing this moment to be what it is and bloom in its own time. It feels perfectly natural, which is quite something for someone who has spent many a gathering on the sidelines looking for excuses not to dance, but his own feelings mirror hers.
It is magic in its own right. That she has the power to make him forget all that weighs on his mind, to think about what a future together might look like instead of focusing on the fact that he might not have one at all— it is more powerful than any spell he could ever recite.
He leans into the kiss she presses against his cheek, raising a hand to lightly brush a lock of hair back from his face.]
Here I thought I ought to be thanking you for spending it with me. I would gladly give you a thousand such evenings— how could I pass up the opportunity to celebrate a day dedicated to those who are most dear to us?
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Alright. We can do some more dancing later if you'd like, but I actually have something for you.
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Do you? Color me intrigued! Of course, I hope you realize that wasn't necessary.
[He's one to talk.]
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[Amelia seats herself and when Gale is next to her, she proceeds to summon her gift into her lap. It appears in a soft glow of green light, wrapped in brown parchment paper and brown string, looking fairly innocuous.]
For you. I feel like it's rather late, but better on Valentine's Day than never.
[She holds out the parcel to him trying to hide her anticipation.]
Also, I... It was my first time making it. By hand.
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Overzealous. Guilty as charged, I suppose— and I have been monopolizing those opportunities a bit, haven't I? It's only fair that you have your turn.
[His tone is all teasing and affection as he settles beside her, close enough that their knees might bump one another if they aren't careful. That tell-tale glow of her magic is beautiful as ever, but his gaze remains fixed on her as he carefully takes the parcel in his own hands, offering her a soft smile.]
'Late.' Nonsense, I say— though my curiosity is certainly piqued.
[Made by hand. The sentiment behind the gift was already clear, but that gives it even greater weight. He begins to loosen the brown string, taking care as he pulls the paper apart as though what's inside might be very delicate— given the source, it will undoubtedly be precious to him.]
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And within the pages are... Blank.
Amelia clasps her hands together, eyes cast down on her lap.]
They're basically blank notebooks. For whatever you want to write down. I've tried my hand at book binding a few times over the years, but it's been a while since I've finished any project since I tried to do it without any magic.
Sewing paper together is hard, as it turns out. But I managed as I always do.
[She doesn't sound as certain with that last statement despite the apparent bluster.]
... I hope you like it. I wanted more than just a semblance of thought in what I gifted you.
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