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.
[Amelia sounds eager to reply because it's kind of fun introducing new things that don't require oodles of context.]
It consists of two sweet honeyed crackers, a piece of chocolate and a marshmallow, a sticky sort of sweet fluff made from gelatin.
You're supposed to toast the marshmallows over a fire and when it's lightly browned, you combine it with the chocolate and put it between the crackers. And then, you have yourself a s'more. Interesting little name for a treat isn't it?
[That eagerness is a lovely shade on her, though undoubtedly he would feel the same no matter how she reacted. He's really starting to feel quite ridiculous with just how enamored he's found himself.]
Interesting. I would never have thought to try such a combination, but it sounds delightful.
[This man is so impressed by simple things, sometimes.]
I certainly see why it would gain popularity around campfires, given they're not ideal for baking, but I do have to wonder at the name...
[There's always room for dessert and Amelia is looking forward to it. But when he mentions that there's going to be more, she glances at him with curiosity.]
Are we going to be stargazing? That's what I assumed the telescope was for.
Indeed we are, among other things— I suppose the telescope was rather obvious, in that regard, but there is purpose to it.
[He's finished his pie by now and most of his mash, and pulls another container from the basket to set between them so that they can each sample from it at their leisure, pulling the cloth covering it back just enough to reveal four miniature cheesecakes before he returns to spearing his roasted vegetables with his fork.]
While we don't have Christmas where I come from, we do have Simril, which falls about this time of year— the 20th of Nightal. Part of the celebration is locating one's lucky star in the night sky. People stay up the entire night, keeping warm by bonfire, eating and drinking— there are fireworks, on occasion, but I thought taking a quieter approach would suit us both this time around. The sky above us tonight is the same one would see over Waterdeep throughout Nightal.
[His smile has become easier, more relaxed as he shares a bit of Faerun tradition with her. He has come to find her company to feel quite natural, especially tonight, having been looking quite forward to it in the planning.]
I've so enjoyed getting to experience a bit of the holidays from your world that I wished to share one of mine with you.
[He's... Put so much thought into just one dinner for them. Amelia processes everything he's just told her and carefully considers the importance of Simril. It sounds lovely, all of it; getting together with loved ones to eat and drink around a circle of warmth are all things that she's familiar enough with. The search for one's lucky star has more than piqued her interest.
More importantly, Gale had constructed the room to display the night sky of Waterdeep for her. Here he was, making dinner, talking about how to help her with the next book club, and pulling her into his world, or at least the closest approximation with his magic. He was a man who kept sharing so much of himself all the while showing patience with her, a stubbornly selective woman.
What did she ever do to deserve this? Amelia lets out an amused huff of breath and runs a hand through her hair, smiling.]
What am I going to do with you, Gale of Waterdeep?
[Even at night, the blush that comes to his neck and cheeks can be seen through the low light of the magic lanterns he'd put in place before their arrival, and he lets out another soft, self-deprecating laugh, wrinkling his nose slightly.]
It's too much, isn't it? I'm sorry— I have that way about me, I'm afraid.
[Or he does now. He has always, he suspects, been over the top in a myriad of ways, but now, having much of his recent time be borrowed... he would rather not waste a moment of it, and as it was magic that first brought them together, he cannot help but wish to share more of that with her.]
I know you're not fond of compliments, but please forgive me when I say you're well worth the effort. I've— not had someone see me for a very long time.
[She's done with the main meal and sets it aside so that she can take one of his hands into both of hers.]
I'm used to being self-sufficient and more importantly, very cautious, no thanks to the tutelage received in my younger years. It took me many, many years to function and live alongside other people and to discern intentions.
[Amelia turns his palm over and traces a thumb up and down the lines of it.]
I was always afraid of being judged. I still am.
[Amelia may behave with the bravado of someone who does not give a damn but that is only in cases in dire need of decisive action. Slow-burning matters such as theirs or even just platonic friendships and building foundations for something that will last?
[His hand curls slightly between hers without a second thought; he has gone so long without touch, so long without genuine affection that he cannot help but take joy in all that is offered, the warmth of her hands already a great comfort to him these last weeks. His smile softens, still very much present and incredibly fond. He exhales softly as she traces the lines of his hand, the bridge of his nose still boyishly wrinkled.]
Caution is not so terrible.
[He would hate for her to think, even for a moment, that he could possibly begrudge her that, or even that he would expect her to be as open as he's already found himself to be so soon.]
Life and circumstances have taught you to be so. [He brings his free hand to lay against her wrist, though not heavily enough to disturb her efforts.] It is my hope— nay, my utmost priority to ensure that you never feel the need to fear such with me.
[Though her expression has settled, there's a tenderness in her eyes as he reassures her that she can be herself around him. Imperfect, stubborn, and a clumsy excuse for a human being. There's a pureness to this affection he has for her despite it all (or because of it?), almost like...
"Because it's so beautiful. Your heart isn't ugly at all. You're so beautiful and shine so brightly it's blinding."
For a second her heart stings. Automatically, she pulls Gale's hand to cup her face as she takes a deep breath to calm herself down.]
[It's but a momentary blip as she takes that breath, barely a flicker in her eyes that, later on, might make him reflect on exactly what it was he'd said to cause— but he instinctively brushes his thumb over the apex of her cheek when she guides his hand there and feels his pulse quicken. There was a time when he would have thought himself above being so affected by such small things, but he would have been more the fool for it— this part of him is hardly new and existed long before his fall from grace, but his desires for something genuine had been long drowned out by his ambition, a distant thought thanks to what the Weave and the Lady of Mysteries both promised.
That Gale, he knows now, had been a fool indeed.]
Of course— I've been quite looking forward to it.
[He gets to his feet, taking her other hand in the process to draw her upwards along with him, managing to keep his eagerness in check as he watches, subtly, to ensure he hasn't said the wrong thing. He leads her to the telescope with ease, never daring to pull away from her until they reach it, and even then only doing just enough that he can carefully adjust its height to suit the both of them.]
One's star is determined by when and where they were born, and finding it on Simril is meant to be tremendously lucky, particularly if it's overcast. In our case, I thought it would be a terrible shame to conjure all this only to obscure it, especially as so many of these stars have tales to tell.
[He's always been fond of astronomy. Even as a child, the night sky promised so much, the stories of the stars an echo of history, their distant sparkle telling him even then that there were countless worlds beyond their own, so much beyond the mortal plane and the very earth beneath their feet that just longed to be explored, to be known.]
[Amelia follows him, hand in hand, her fingers gentle but firm in his grasp with no signs of her wanting to pull away until they reach the telescope. Her eyes gaze up at the velvety night sky with the aurora dancing across it.]
What's your lucky star, Gale?
[What were stars to Amelia? When she lived in the Witch King's domain, her young mind would try to make sense of astronomy and astrology. At some point, she did her best to recreate a starry night sky and could only achieve it during a rare moment of the Witch King giving a demonstration for her to copy. The depth of his knowledge of other worlds and other skies was vast, more than she could ever hope to comprehend at the time.]
I know a few constellations off the top of my head, local to my world. Based on my birthdate, I was born under the sign of Pisces.
[He gives her hand a squeeze before releasing it so that he can lean in to make use of the telescope, closing one eye as he adjusts its trajectory and searches the night sky as though he hadn't conjured it himself.]
Usually most clearly visible in late summer, but we should be able to catch a glimpse— being born under Euryale is said to be an Omen of Dedication. Of course, I do take such things with a grain of salt— we are all our own people— but there's no denying that astronomy and astrology both have their place in the arcane arts.
[He chats easily as he searches, clearly in his element, and his smile hitches wider as he comes to a pause.]
Ah, there! [He pulls back, laying a hand against the small of her back to encourage her to take his place at the eyepiece.] Pisces... what season is that? We should be able to find the equivalent.
['Euryale' is a familiar term for a literature teacher such as herself but she wants to listen to Gale instead of interjecting. What he describes is not unlike the Western zodiac where being born under a star implies a certain set of traits. And isn't Gale's fitting?
Amelia takes his place and leans down to look through the eyepiece, pausing to push her glasses up to balance on her head.]
Pisces is late winter or early spring. For you, a late summer would mean you're born under Leo.
[He hums thoughtfully as he considers, moving behind her and lightly running his hands up the length of her arms to rest gently against her shoulders, looking up at the sky to appreciate those constellations that could be seen by the naked eye.]
Late winter or early spring... that would be Ches or Tarsakh, placing you under Balance or Sage. I can see arguments for both, but those born under the Sage are said to bear the Omen of Imagination. Brilliant minds, sharp wits, destined to solve life's greatest puzzles.
[Though he stands behind her, she can undoubtedly hear the affectionate smile in his voice.]
[She can feel his hands on her shoulders as she looks through the telescope and it makes her smile. There's nothing about his warmth that Amelia wants to shy away from at the moment.]
Omen of Imagination, huh? I'll take it. It sounds similar enough to a Pisces.
[Her eye takes in Gale's lucky star and then she notes that with the other stars around them, there are some similarities to constellations she can recall but for everything else, some reviewing would be needed. Standing up straight, she turns her head to Gale.]
What does Tarsakh look like? I'll try to find it and see if I get some extra luck tonight.
The month of Tarsakh shares its name with the star at the very point of the Sage's staff— also the brightest star in the constellation, as it so happens.
[His heart swells at her eagerness to seek out her own star, though he knows he should hardly be surprised that she would take an interest.]
If you look to the northwest, there should be a collection of stars that look something like a figure in robes holding a staff, if you can imagine such a thing.
[Says the wizard standing there wearing robes, as he so often does, and he gives a soft chuckle. If she needs a reference, there he is!]
[With a nod, she goes back to the telescope. After a minute or two and a bit of maneuvering of the instrument to point northwest, there's a pause when she makes out a particularly bright star.]
This one?
[Amelia moves aside for Gale to take a turn at the telescope.]
I'm no astronomer but I hope that my visual guessing isn't off.
[His smirk pulls to one side as though he's prepared to be particularly critical of her findings, but as he leans in to look for himself, he lets out another soft hum of approval, grinning when he stands once more.]
Well-spotted! You do have quite the knack for this, though I can't say that surprises me, astronomer or otherwise.
[She's exceptionally bright; it's one of the things that had most commanded his attention when they'd first met.]
Now that you've found it, tradition says you'll be blessed with good fortune in the coming year.
[He laughs openly as color floods to his cheeks again, physically unable to stop smiling as he takes a step closer to her and drops his hands to rest against her hips.]
Now, that sounds like something I would say. I must be rubbing off on you.
[He could certainly get used to that. He leans down to kiss her; he's almost proud of himself for having made it this far without doing so, dinner and stargazing both serving as excellent distractions, but he does make an effort to keep the kiss just this side of chaste, soft and lingering as it is.]
I'd say we're both long overdue for some good fortune.
[He can probably feel her smile through the gentle kiss and she returns it in equal measure while her fingers graze his jawline. She draws back but stays close enough that his forehead can touch hers.]
I have my moments. It's not inaccurate to say that you've become somewhat of an inspiration for them.
[A chill passes through and her hands find their way to Gale's as they rest against her hips.]
Back the blanket then? I like looking at the stars from there.
[He gladly rests his forehead against hers given the opportunity, his pulse quickening with the curve of her smile against his lips, the warmth of her hands over his.]
Of course— as you wish.
[He'd ensured they would be as comfortable as possible for their night of stargazing, the plush blanket and pillows not necessarily the most practical for a picnic, but practicality mattered a great deal less when you had magic on hand. As they return to settle in, he waves a hand so that what remains of their dinner is neatly set aside, still within reach if they decide to sample any more of it, but offering them plenty of space to stretch out and make themselves quite at home to fully appreciate the star-studded canvas above them.
He nudges a round velvet pillow in her direction as they seat themselves, the same deep burgundy as the wine his Mage Hand had poured for them earlier, and takes another for himself before he reclines, putting one hand behind his head while leaving the other free.]
I took care not to make it quite as cold as Waterdeep would be this time of year, but should we have need of it—
[Another wave of his hand and flick of his wrist and a second deep purple blanket appears between them, to be used as she sees fit.]
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[His voice lilts upwards, his interest clearly piqued.]
What would such a thing be made of?
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It consists of two sweet honeyed crackers, a piece of chocolate and a marshmallow, a sticky sort of sweet fluff made from gelatin.
You're supposed to toast the marshmallows over a fire and when it's lightly browned, you combine it with the chocolate and put it between the crackers. And then, you have yourself a s'more. Interesting little name for a treat isn't it?
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Interesting. I would never have thought to try such a combination, but it sounds delightful.
[This man is so impressed by simple things, sometimes.]
I certainly see why it would gain popularity around campfires, given they're not ideal for baking, but I do have to wonder at the name...
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[1927, Tramping and Trailing with the Girl Scouts! Just one of the many random things Amelia came across in her neverending reading journey.]
It's just a shortened way to say "some more." Since it was a delicious sweet treat, of course, one would want "s'more."
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[He's certainly intrigued, and the next time there's a campfire or bonfire to be had, he'll have to make a point of trying these treats for himself.]
I did make dessert, but I'm not certain how it will measure up.
[Teasing, of course; his smile hitches wider as he helps himself to more of his wine.]
There's more to tonight than simply dinner, as well.
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Are we going to be stargazing? That's what I assumed the telescope was for.
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[He's finished his pie by now and most of his mash, and pulls another container from the basket to set between them so that they can each sample from it at their leisure, pulling the cloth covering it back just enough to reveal four miniature cheesecakes before he returns to spearing his roasted vegetables with his fork.]
While we don't have Christmas where I come from, we do have Simril, which falls about this time of year— the 20th of Nightal. Part of the celebration is locating one's lucky star in the night sky. People stay up the entire night, keeping warm by bonfire, eating and drinking— there are fireworks, on occasion, but I thought taking a quieter approach would suit us both this time around. The sky above us tonight is the same one would see over Waterdeep throughout Nightal.
[His smile has become easier, more relaxed as he shares a bit of Faerun tradition with her. He has come to find her company to feel quite natural, especially tonight, having been looking quite forward to it in the planning.]
I've so enjoyed getting to experience a bit of the holidays from your world that I wished to share one of mine with you.
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More importantly, Gale had constructed the room to display the night sky of Waterdeep for her. Here he was, making dinner, talking about how to help her with the next book club, and pulling her into his world, or at least the closest approximation with his magic. He was a man who kept sharing so much of himself all the while showing patience with her, a stubbornly selective woman.
What did she ever do to deserve this? Amelia lets out an amused huff of breath and runs a hand through her hair, smiling.]
What am I going to do with you, Gale of Waterdeep?
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It's too much, isn't it? I'm sorry— I have that way about me, I'm afraid.
[Or he does now. He has always, he suspects, been over the top in a myriad of ways, but now, having much of his recent time be borrowed... he would rather not waste a moment of it, and as it was magic that first brought them together, he cannot help but wish to share more of that with her.]
I know you're not fond of compliments, but please forgive me when I say you're well worth the effort. I've— not had someone see me for a very long time.
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[She's done with the main meal and sets it aside so that she can take one of his hands into both of hers.]
I'm used to being self-sufficient and more importantly, very cautious, no thanks to the tutelage received in my younger years. It took me many, many years to function and live alongside other people and to discern intentions.
[Amelia turns his palm over and traces a thumb up and down the lines of it.]
I was always afraid of being judged. I still am.
[Amelia may behave with the bravado of someone who does not give a damn but that is only in cases in dire need of decisive action. Slow-burning matters such as theirs or even just platonic friendships and building foundations for something that will last?
That's what's challenging.]
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Caution is not so terrible.
[He would hate for her to think, even for a moment, that he could possibly begrudge her that, or even that he would expect her to be as open as he's already found himself to be so soon.]
Life and circumstances have taught you to be so. [He brings his free hand to lay against her wrist, though not heavily enough to disturb her efforts.] It is my hope— nay, my utmost priority to ensure that you never feel the need to fear such with me.
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"Because it's so beautiful. Your heart isn't ugly at all. You're so beautiful and shine so brightly it's blinding."
For a second her heart stings. Automatically, she pulls Gale's hand to cup her face as she takes a deep breath to calm herself down.]
Can you show me the stars soon?
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That Gale, he knows now, had been a fool indeed.]
Of course— I've been quite looking forward to it.
[He gets to his feet, taking her other hand in the process to draw her upwards along with him, managing to keep his eagerness in check as he watches, subtly, to ensure he hasn't said the wrong thing. He leads her to the telescope with ease, never daring to pull away from her until they reach it, and even then only doing just enough that he can carefully adjust its height to suit the both of them.]
One's star is determined by when and where they were born, and finding it on Simril is meant to be tremendously lucky, particularly if it's overcast. In our case, I thought it would be a terrible shame to conjure all this only to obscure it, especially as so many of these stars have tales to tell.
[He's always been fond of astronomy. Even as a child, the night sky promised so much, the stories of the stars an echo of history, their distant sparkle telling him even then that there were countless worlds beyond their own, so much beyond the mortal plane and the very earth beneath their feet that just longed to be explored, to be known.]
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What's your lucky star, Gale?
[What were stars to Amelia? When she lived in the Witch King's domain, her young mind would try to make sense of astronomy and astrology. At some point, she did her best to recreate a starry night sky and could only achieve it during a rare moment of the Witch King giving a demonstration for her to copy. The depth of his knowledge of other worlds and other skies was vast, more than she could ever hope to comprehend at the time.]
I know a few constellations off the top of my head, local to my world. Based on my birthdate, I was born under the sign of Pisces.
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[He gives her hand a squeeze before releasing it so that he can lean in to make use of the telescope, closing one eye as he adjusts its trajectory and searches the night sky as though he hadn't conjured it himself.]
Usually most clearly visible in late summer, but we should be able to catch a glimpse— being born under Euryale is said to be an Omen of Dedication. Of course, I do take such things with a grain of salt— we are all our own people— but there's no denying that astronomy and astrology both have their place in the arcane arts.
[He chats easily as he searches, clearly in his element, and his smile hitches wider as he comes to a pause.]
Ah, there! [He pulls back, laying a hand against the small of her back to encourage her to take his place at the eyepiece.] Pisces... what season is that? We should be able to find the equivalent.
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Amelia takes his place and leans down to look through the eyepiece, pausing to push her glasses up to balance on her head.]
Pisces is late winter or early spring. For you, a late summer would mean you're born under Leo.
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[He hums thoughtfully as he considers, moving behind her and lightly running his hands up the length of her arms to rest gently against her shoulders, looking up at the sky to appreciate those constellations that could be seen by the naked eye.]
Late winter or early spring... that would be Ches or Tarsakh, placing you under Balance or Sage. I can see arguments for both, but those born under the Sage are said to bear the Omen of Imagination. Brilliant minds, sharp wits, destined to solve life's greatest puzzles.
[Though he stands behind her, she can undoubtedly hear the affectionate smile in his voice.]
I rather think that suits.
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Omen of Imagination, huh? I'll take it. It sounds similar enough to a Pisces.
[Her eye takes in Gale's lucky star and then she notes that with the other stars around them, there are some similarities to constellations she can recall but for everything else, some reviewing would be needed. Standing up straight, she turns her head to Gale.]
What does Tarsakh look like? I'll try to find it and see if I get some extra luck tonight.
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[His heart swells at her eagerness to seek out her own star, though he knows he should hardly be surprised that she would take an interest.]
If you look to the northwest, there should be a collection of stars that look something like a figure in robes holding a staff, if you can imagine such a thing.
[Says the wizard standing there wearing robes, as he so often does, and he gives a soft chuckle. If she needs a reference, there he is!]
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This one?
[Amelia moves aside for Gale to take a turn at the telescope.]
I'm no astronomer but I hope that my visual guessing isn't off.
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[His smirk pulls to one side as though he's prepared to be particularly critical of her findings, but as he leans in to look for himself, he lets out another soft hum of approval, grinning when he stands once more.]
Well-spotted! You do have quite the knack for this, though I can't say that surprises me, astronomer or otherwise.
[She's exceptionally bright; it's one of the things that had most commanded his attention when they'd first met.]
Now that you've found it, tradition says you'll be blessed with good fortune in the coming year.
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[Amelia crosses her arms at Gale with a light kind of smile as he praises and gives her the result of her fortune.]
I don't know, Gale. I think my good fortunate already happened and he's standing right in front of me.
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Now, that sounds like something I would say. I must be rubbing off on you.
[He could certainly get used to that. He leans down to kiss her; he's almost proud of himself for having made it this far without doing so, dinner and stargazing both serving as excellent distractions, but he does make an effort to keep the kiss just this side of chaste, soft and lingering as it is.]
I'd say we're both long overdue for some good fortune.
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I have my moments. It's not inaccurate to say that you've become somewhat of an inspiration for them.
[A chill passes through and her hands find their way to Gale's as they rest against her hips.]
Back the blanket then? I like looking at the stars from there.
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Of course— as you wish.
[He'd ensured they would be as comfortable as possible for their night of stargazing, the plush blanket and pillows not necessarily the most practical for a picnic, but practicality mattered a great deal less when you had magic on hand. As they return to settle in, he waves a hand so that what remains of their dinner is neatly set aside, still within reach if they decide to sample any more of it, but offering them plenty of space to stretch out and make themselves quite at home to fully appreciate the star-studded canvas above them.
He nudges a round velvet pillow in her direction as they seat themselves, the same deep burgundy as the wine his Mage Hand had poured for them earlier, and takes another for himself before he reclines, putting one hand behind his head while leaving the other free.]
I took care not to make it quite as cold as Waterdeep would be this time of year, but should we have need of it—
[Another wave of his hand and flick of his wrist and a second deep purple blanket appears between them, to be used as she sees fit.]
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