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 sits with her legs tucked under herself as Gale settles them in with the pillows and newly summoned blanket between them. Humming under her breath, she takes the blanket and makes sure it's spread evenly to cover them both before she lies on her side just looking at Gale.
Surely, she'll look at the stars again soon.]
Coming from a warm and dry climate, this is cold for me.
[Her hand finds his under the blanket and she has it rest between her jaw and neck.]
[Those stars aren't going anywhere. After he does his part to help drape the blanket over the two of them, Gale shifts onto his side to face her, that smile of his persisting as she takes his hand and lays it against her neck, the pad of his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. Taking that as an answer to his own unspoken invitation, he inches closer, leaning in to rest his forehead against hers a second time.]
Far be it from me to deny a lady what she wants.
[His fingers curl against the back of her neck and into her hair, one slipping beneath her ear as it eases back, and he leans in to press his lips against hers once more, feeling that same flutter in his chest that he had the first time. That, he knows, will never get old; he parts his lips and swears he can taste a hint of the wine lingering on hers, a soft sigh of contentment escaping him against the sweet curve of her mouth.]
You look truly beautiful tonight. The very stars above cannot even dream to compare.
[Their kiss was like wine itself; indulgent, smooth, and something Amelia could get utterly lost in by drinking him all up for herself. Her hand presses against his chest and she lets out a low laugh against his lips at his adulation.]
That's a lot, Gale. [But she sounds pleased, regardless.]
[There's a teasing lilt to his voice as he asks without pulling away, though her hand against his chest does still his efforts for the moment, his heart beating steadily beneath her touch.]
Do you not trust me to be a gentleman?
[Though he knows she's absolutely right, it could get dangerous and escalate quickly, just as their first kiss beneath the mistletoe had, but the chill of the evening should certainly be enough of a deterrent— or so he tells himself.]
[And she surprises herself by how easily she admits it. Amelia shifts under the blanket so that it covers the lower half of her face. It makes her look cozier, contrasting with the soft and ardent glow in her eyes.]
We're playing it by ear after all.
... But this is nice. [She curls up some more and rests her forehead against Gale's chest.]
Just being next to you feels like a long rest at the end of the day.
[The admission causes his gaze to soften, easy at it comes, and he feels another bout of fluttering move through him— he had forgotten what it felt like, to have something that felt new but warm and reassuring, safe. He has always wondered about his place in the world, always felt the need to be better than he is, to be more, whatever it took to rise to those heights he's so aspired to since his youth—
But Amelia doesn't care about what he's capable of back home, about his reputation, about who he was. She only knows him as he is here. Not Gale of Waterdeep, but simply Gale. He never thought he would find that so comforting as he does now.
He drops his chin as she curls up against him, dropping a kiss atop her head and softly inhaling the scent of her hair.]
I feel quite the same.
[He almost sounds a bit surprised by that, himself.]
I... truly cannot remember the last time I felt so at peace.
[For far too long, Amelia hardly ever felt safe. She always had to stay weary of the Witch King's whims and spend long hours alone in that mansion, trapped by a world of snow and ice outside of its walls. Magic was not a wondrous art, but an arduous task that swallowed the whole of her life.
Outside of that, she was nothing. She left the cage to find no one left for her. It took so many more years to rebuild that no one would have blamed her if she had given up.
... But as Gale kisses the top of her head (she smells a little like honey and rosemary), Amelia feels the distance between herself and those early years. She too, feels peace.]
... I'm glad I can make you feel that way. [She makes a sound that's akin to a chuckle.]
I often spend the majority of my time being impassive or intimidating. But that never really put you off from the beginning, did it?
[He chuckles softly against her hair, shifting to put his arm around her shoulders beneath their shared blanket and letting his hand come to rest against her back, lighting tracing aimless shapes between her shoulderblades.]
If anything, it only made me curious to learn more. Whatever was underneath that exterior, I was certain it was worth finding. How could I resist such a puzzle?
[His tone is as playful as it is fond, but his words are nothing short of genuine. With her curled against his chest, he's nearly forgotten the stars; his heartbeat has slowed and steadied itself, its rhythm gentle beneath her touch despite the efforts of the orb. Even that pain feels insignificant in this moment.]
Fortunately, I'm a very patient man, but I was hardly surprised to learn that I was right. I often am, of course.
[For all intents and purposes, Amelia was sure that was a moment that would put him off from her. She was immature and bull-headed over a silly game and overreacted to the results. And at that time she was confused and angry about feeling like a fool.]
I don't think I properly apologized for that. I was... Not thinking clearly.
[She rests her head on the pillow again.]
So, I'm sorry. I know the water is under the bridge but it needs to be said.
Apology unnecessary, but accepted. I was being a bit of a sore—
[He cuts himself off before he can say 'loser,' because he still maintains it was a draw, but he chuckles and reaches over to lightly brush a bit of her hair back from her face as she settles back in.]
Well. I think we can both agree it was all very silly, hm? I think we both got a bit carried away, but it would seem pride is something we have in common.
[They're both prideful but it is of varying shades. Gale had accolades, the favor of a goddess, and pure raw talent. Amelia? Well, it was all that she had left and even that was questionable.
Her eyes are half-lidded as if she's about to fall asleep. Instead, she keeps her gaze on Gale and her fingers reach up to trace the outline of his beard and then...]
... You have a lot of scars, don't you Gale?
[They're faded and faint but up close, she can see every jagged line and how they fade into the creases of his face whenever he smiles. Not to mention the dark veins that come from the orb's markings that travel from his chest, up to his neck.
Amelia wonders if she'll have enough time to memorize them all.]
[For a moment, he feels himself bordering on philosophical; they all have their scars, do they not? Old wounds that make them who they are, reminders of the steps taken to lead them to the present— but the soft touch of her careful fingers reminds him that she most certainly means the physical, and fortunately for both of them, he stays himself.]
I've my fair share. Some old enough that I confess to having forgotten about them, used to them as I am.
[Not those left behind by the orb. He imagines not even the most potent of spells could ever convince him to forget those, or exactly how he got them.]
One doesn't become an archwizard without taking a few tumbles, so to speak. What do you think? Ruggedly handsome?
[Teasing, deflecting rather than fishing for compliments, but his smile is as warm as ever, his fingers catching against the sleeve of her sweater and gently twisting the fabric between them.]
[A light compliment, but a compliment nonetheless. She still has her glasses on during this whole date so she finally pulls them off and sets them to the side.]
And now I get to see them up close as much as I like.
[He can't help but give her a boyish tilt of his head as he shifts closer to her, daring to catch her hand with his own once she's set her glasses aside, twining their fingers together.]
I had no idea you were so interested in investigating. By all means, get as close as you like.
[Dangerous, a voice at the back of his head reminds him, and he's also keenly aware of the fact that there's something else he's momentarily forgotten, but he's so pleased with the opportunity to be here with her, to see her smile bloom here underneath the stars, his initial plans for this dinner have become a distant thought.]
A standing invitation, by the by.
[He's not the type to be shy about showing affection, or accepting such displays regardless of where he is.]
[It might be the prolonged closeness combined with the weight of the blanket but... Gale's 'subtle' invitation causes a shiver to travel down her neck and the temperature a tad bit unbearable.
She wiggles out of her green cardigan and pushes it to the side before lightly remarking back though her tone is low.]
Is that where we're going with this?
[Amelia closes the distance again and this time the length of her body presses up against his. She's fully clothed, but without the bulk of her knitted cardigan, the contact feels closer than before.]
[He feels a shiver of his own as she pulls herself against him, his arms easily encircling her as she draws close, and the warm line of her body against his is as welcome in the cool air of the evening as it is tempting fate. He huffs a breath before laughing again, opting to tease her even as that low tone of voice reaches deep within him and seizes something he's half-forgotten.]
I was merely referring to more opportunities just like this.
[He demonstrates by dropping a chaste kiss against the bridge of her nose, though having her pulled against him with even one less layer of clothing than before is certainly doing a great deal to test that patience and will of his.]
[Oh, that is a rather underhanded move on her part; she nudges his knees apart, a dangerous play in itself, and though her lips barely touch his, that light graze causes him to take in a small, sharp breath, barely perceptible, though he doesn't expect her to miss it. She doesn't miss much.
That she can manage to sound so casual with the warm line of her body pressed against his is, frankly, a marvel— he knows that there's going to be a husky edge to his voice when he speaks again, that tease of hers stirring up a fluttering in his abdomen.]
I think that you, [he begins slowly, deliberately, his own voice low as his fingers curl into the fabric of her shirt at the small of her back,] want to see what happens if you do.
[It would be a terribly risky assumption to make otherwise; he may be a patient man, but he's hardly a priest, nor is he made of stone. He shifts to angle himself forward, less passive than his posture has been so far, and leans in to press a light kiss against her jawline before he murmurs against it, just below her ear.]
[Of course, she doesn't miss the sharpness of his breath. She's too close and too observant. And that also means she can't ignore the huskiness of his voice, how it resonates in her, and how his touch begins to leave invisible searing marks.
Amelia cannot ignore the question's underlying meaning; as Gale kisses her jawline and whispers into her ear, a color floods her cheeks, the tips of her ears, and down to her neck. But somehow she manages to maintain their breathy rapport.]
It wouldn't be the first time... Nn.
[There's no mistaking that enticing sound as much as she tries to suppress it. If he pulls back to look, her green eyes filled with that lovely haze that emerged back at the ball.]
... Gale? It's still cold, you know.
[Amelia slowly starts to sit up so that whatever happens next they aren't lying down.]
[That sound is more than enough to make his pulse quicken further, make desire twist low in his belly. That may have been an accident, but much like the night of their first kiss, it's clear she knows precisely what she's doing.
He props himself up with one hand as she sits up, the blanket still draped over them as best it can be despite their shifting, and he pulls back just enough to let her move as she wishes— enough that he can see that lovely haze in her eyes, mirrored in his own by an intense heat, soulful brown eyes heavy but still with that mischievous sparkle of his.]
Would it be so bad?
[He echoes her with a low chuckle, biting slightly at his lower lip, unable to look away from the way her face and ears have flushed.
He could dismiss the cold in an instant, if he wished, but this is far more interesting.]
I would hardly complain. How could I?
[He shifts so that he, too, is seated, his hand only leaving her lower back for but a moment as he does so, returning with fingers spread and teasing at the hem of her shirt as he leans in as if for another kiss, wondering in passing if she'll still taste of wine. He stops, instead, just short of her lips, letting his forehead come to rest against hers, hardly more than a hair's breadth between them.]
I am many, many things, dear heart, but I am not coy. You need but say the word, and I am yours.
[It's all a little much. There's nothing in his eyes that makes her think he doesn't want her and the allowance he's giving Amelia is a sweet temptation that makes her ache. What is it like to be so generous with intimacy toward a person who's been without for so long? It's like pouring into a half-empty glass and making it overflow.
Fundamentally, Amelia may be more impatient between the two of them.
As he teases the hem of her shirt and their foreheads touch, she doesn't take time to answer his question. One hand reaches to rest on the back of Gale's neck, threading through his hair, and she goes in for a kiss. It isn't heated at first but as she parts her lips there's a keen wanting behind it that she couldn't possibly describe to him in words.]
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Surely, she'll look at the stars again soon.]
Coming from a warm and dry climate, this is cold for me.
[Her hand finds his under the blanket and she has it rest between her jaw and neck.]
So I'll be needing this.
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Far be it from me to deny a lady what she wants.
[His fingers curl against the back of her neck and into her hair, one slipping beneath her ear as it eases back, and he leans in to press his lips against hers once more, feeling that same flutter in his chest that he had the first time. That, he knows, will never get old; he parts his lips and swears he can taste a hint of the wine lingering on hers, a soft sigh of contentment escaping him against the sweet curve of her mouth.]
You look truly beautiful tonight. The very stars above cannot even dream to compare.
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That's a lot, Gale. [But she sounds pleased, regardless.]
And this could get dangerous, don't you think?
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[There's a teasing lilt to his voice as he asks without pulling away, though her hand against his chest does still his efforts for the moment, his heart beating steadily beneath her touch.]
Do you not trust me to be a gentleman?
[Though he knows she's absolutely right, it could get dangerous and escalate quickly, just as their first kiss beneath the mistletoe had, but the chill of the evening should certainly be enough of a deterrent— or so he tells himself.]
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[And she surprises herself by how easily she admits it. Amelia shifts under the blanket so that it covers the lower half of her face. It makes her look cozier, contrasting with the soft and ardent glow in her eyes.]
We're playing it by ear after all.
... But this is nice. [She curls up some more and rests her forehead against Gale's chest.]
Just being next to you feels like a long rest at the end of the day.
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But Amelia doesn't care about what he's capable of back home, about his reputation, about who he was. She only knows him as he is here. Not Gale of Waterdeep, but simply Gale. He never thought he would find that so comforting as he does now.
He drops his chin as she curls up against him, dropping a kiss atop her head and softly inhaling the scent of her hair.]
I feel quite the same.
[He almost sounds a bit surprised by that, himself.]
I... truly cannot remember the last time I felt so at peace.
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Outside of that, she was nothing. She left the cage to find no one left for her. It took so many more years to rebuild that no one would have blamed her if she had given up.
... But as Gale kisses the top of her head (she smells a little like honey and rosemary), Amelia feels the distance between herself and those early years. She too, feels peace.]
... I'm glad I can make you feel that way. [She makes a sound that's akin to a chuckle.]
I often spend the majority of my time being impassive or intimidating. But that never really put you off from the beginning, did it?
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[He chuckles softly against her hair, shifting to put his arm around her shoulders beneath their shared blanket and letting his hand come to rest against her back, lighting tracing aimless shapes between her shoulderblades.]
If anything, it only made me curious to learn more. Whatever was underneath that exterior, I was certain it was worth finding. How could I resist such a puzzle?
[His tone is as playful as it is fond, but his words are nothing short of genuine. With her curled against his chest, he's nearly forgotten the stars; his heartbeat has slowed and steadied itself, its rhythm gentle beneath her touch despite the efforts of the orb. Even that pain feels insignificant in this moment.]
Fortunately, I'm a very patient man, but I was hardly surprised to learn that I was right. I often am, of course.
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[His assertion makes Amelia lift herself so she's resting her weight on her elbows to make a bemused look at Gale.]
You were wrong about who won the Pocky game.
[yeah that was the one time so what]
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That again.
[Oh, he hasn't forgotten.]
Looking back, I still believe I won. I got to kiss you.
[Ha!]
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Were you aiming for a kiss back then? Or was that unintentional?
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Unintentional, I'm afraid— swept up in the spirit of competition as I was— but I can't say I was unhappy about it.
[Which is to say that if she was wondering if he liked her then, the answer is yes.]
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I don't think I properly apologized for that. I was... Not thinking clearly.
[She rests her head on the pillow again.]
So, I'm sorry. I know the water is under the bridge but it needs to be said.
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[He cuts himself off before he can say 'loser,' because he still maintains it was a draw, but he chuckles and reaches over to lightly brush a bit of her hair back from her face as she settles back in.]
Well. I think we can both agree it was all very silly, hm? I think we both got a bit carried away, but it would seem pride is something we have in common.
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Her eyes are half-lidded as if she's about to fall asleep. Instead, she keeps her gaze on Gale and her fingers reach up to trace the outline of his beard and then...]
... You have a lot of scars, don't you Gale?
[They're faded and faint but up close, she can see every jagged line and how they fade into the creases of his face whenever he smiles. Not to mention the dark veins that come from the orb's markings that travel from his chest, up to his neck.
Amelia wonders if she'll have enough time to memorize them all.]
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I've my fair share. Some old enough that I confess to having forgotten about them, used to them as I am.
[Not those left behind by the orb. He imagines not even the most potent of spells could ever convince him to forget those, or exactly how he got them.]
One doesn't become an archwizard without taking a few tumbles, so to speak. What do you think? Ruggedly handsome?
[Teasing, deflecting rather than fishing for compliments, but his smile is as warm as ever, his fingers catching against the sleeve of her sweater and gently twisting the fabric between them.]
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[A light compliment, but a compliment nonetheless. She still has her glasses on during this whole date so she finally pulls them off and sets them to the side.]
And now I get to see them up close as much as I like.
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I had no idea you were so interested in investigating. By all means, get as close as you like.
[Dangerous, a voice at the back of his head reminds him, and he's also keenly aware of the fact that there's something else he's momentarily forgotten, but he's so pleased with the opportunity to be here with her, to see her smile bloom here underneath the stars, his initial plans for this dinner have become a distant thought.]
A standing invitation, by the by.
[He's not the type to be shy about showing affection, or accepting such displays regardless of where he is.]
no subject
She wiggles out of her green cardigan and pushes it to the side before lightly remarking back though her tone is low.]
Is that where we're going with this?
[Amelia closes the distance again and this time the length of her body presses up against his. She's fully clothed, but without the bulk of her knitted cardigan, the contact feels closer than before.]
You just told me you were a patient man.
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I was merely referring to more opportunities just like this.
[He demonstrates by dropping a chaste kiss against the bridge of her nose, though having her pulled against him with even one less layer of clothing than before is certainly doing a great deal to test that patience and will of his.]
What were you thinking of, hm?
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[The kiss on her nose doesn't garner a reaction from her. Amelia's gaze remains cool and unwavering as she moves one leg to nudge between his knees.]
I was thinking...
[And she pauses as her lips graze against Gale's lower lip. Then she kisses him, a feathery light thing against the seam of his mouth.
It is an absolute and deliberate tease. When she draws back, her voice remains casual.]
—I was thinking that you want me to try your patience, Gale.
autofill why
That she can manage to sound so casual with the warm line of her body pressed against his is, frankly, a marvel— he knows that there's going to be a husky edge to his voice when he speaks again, that tease of hers stirring up a fluttering in his abdomen.]
I think that you, [he begins slowly, deliberately, his own voice low as his fingers curl into the fabric of her shirt at the small of her back,] want to see what happens if you do.
[It would be a terribly risky assumption to make otherwise; he may be a patient man, but he's hardly a priest, nor is he made of stone. He shifts to angle himself forward, less passive than his posture has been so far, and leans in to press a light kiss against her jawline before he murmurs against it, just below her ear.]
Tempting fate, are you?
2gale2handle
Amelia cannot ignore the question's underlying meaning; as Gale kisses her jawline and whispers into her ear, a color floods her cheeks, the tips of her ears, and down to her neck. But somehow she manages to maintain their breathy rapport.]
It wouldn't be the first time... Nn.
[There's no mistaking that enticing sound as much as she tries to suppress it. If he pulls back to look, her green eyes filled with that lovely haze that emerged back at the ball.]
... Gale? It's still cold, you know.
[Amelia slowly starts to sit up so that whatever happens next they aren't lying down.]
Would it be so bad? If it was a little warmer?
no subject
He props himself up with one hand as she sits up, the blanket still draped over them as best it can be despite their shifting, and he pulls back just enough to let her move as she wishes— enough that he can see that lovely haze in her eyes, mirrored in his own by an intense heat, soulful brown eyes heavy but still with that mischievous sparkle of his.]
Would it be so bad?
[He echoes her with a low chuckle, biting slightly at his lower lip, unable to look away from the way her face and ears have flushed.
He could dismiss the cold in an instant, if he wished, but this is far more interesting.]
I would hardly complain. How could I?
[He shifts so that he, too, is seated, his hand only leaving her lower back for but a moment as he does so, returning with fingers spread and teasing at the hem of her shirt as he leans in as if for another kiss, wondering in passing if she'll still taste of wine. He stops, instead, just short of her lips, letting his forehead come to rest against hers, hardly more than a hair's breadth between them.]
I am many, many things, dear heart, but I am not coy. You need but say the word, and I am yours.
no subject
Fundamentally, Amelia may be more impatient between the two of them.
As he teases the hem of her shirt and their foreheads touch, she doesn't take time to answer his question. One hand reaches to rest on the back of Gale's neck, threading through his hair, and she goes in for a kiss. It isn't heated at first but as she parts her lips there's a keen wanting behind it that she couldn't possibly describe to him in words.]
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