abraxaslogs | [ open ] If you're feelin' like you need a little bit of company

[ She has noticed the owl's absence lately; she usually tried to toss it a rodent or two when she fed the wolf, but she's not exactly sad to see it go. Having it there felt almost sad, like a reminder of the absence rather than a memento of the girl. Also, the hoots were very weird.

While her Horizon appearance never suffered the way her physical body did, it's her energy here that reflects the healing. She no longer seems tired or distracted, doesn't have any pain threatening to pierce her skull from the inside. She feels lighter.

The only places Julie has ever really been in the keep are the main hall and the armory, which Ciri showed her over a year ago. Much like she had never poked around Kaer Morhen without invitation, the way she did other domains, she has never dared go near the stairs. Everything she had heard, had imagined was so horrible that she lost her interest in nosing around. Who wants to stand in those spaces? It was so morbid, so heartbreaking. ]

Then you'll have to make it up to me. [ There's a lilt in her voice as she teases. She gives a cursory glance around the hallway, just to take it in, but the doors are so obvious. They stick out, smooth and decorative instead of efficient, perfunctory. She doesn't know what to expect as she enters. ]

[ In a sense, this is new to Geralt. He's never experienced having a place to want to show someone. The only home that was ever his was Kaer Morhen, so hidden in the mountains and separated from the other parts of his life that even Jaskier had not set foot in it until there was no other choice.

Beyond the doors, the stained glass windows sparkle. Despite the snow that falls upstairs in the yard, down here the sun is bright; the flowers smell of springtime florals. Outside, a faint image of rolling green hills can be glimpsed.

And ahead, down the long corridor, stands the delicately carved statue of Melitele. In the daylight, most of the candles are unlit, but hundreds of them dot the shelves, the tables. Small cakes and pastries sit on decorated plates by plush couches. ]

I told you once—how I spent time at a temple as a boy.

[ Here it is. Not perfectly rendered—it's absent the vast library and endless rooms—but fairly close. A warm tint hangs in the air. ]

[ It's certainly not anything that she might have imagined him making. It's not anything she would have thought he had ever seen before -- from her glimpses at what the Continent is like, they had all seemed so... dark. Not just Kaer Morhen, but the tavern Jaskier made, the great hall in Ciri's memory. None of it felt alive in the way that certain places from Julie's world had felt to her. It all felt somber and heavy and sad to her, like history that shouldn't be disturbed by the living.

Of course, before Abraxas, Julie had never seen a building older than a century in real life. Everything in America was new, and particularly in the places she'd been, lacked the weight of hundreds or thousands of years of history. To her, that history feels almost oppressive.

But this doesn't.

She doesn't even notice the gasp that escapes her as she enters. Her eyes are wide with surprise, and she absently drifts ahead of him, looking at the windows and the carvings and the giant swinging lantern (?) overhead. She's never even been in a church so grand, although she knows they existed; Notre Dame, Saint Peter's, Saint Basil's. She can name them, though she's not sure that even such pinnacles of Western achievement can compare. Old Christianity doesn't feel this vibrant. ]

Oh, Geralt. [ Her voice is soft without thinking about it. Like an instinct ingrained in her, an innate sense of respect. ] This is beautiful.

[ A small smile lifts his lips. She likes it, then? The pillars have gold suns that shimmer, barely visible except when the light strikes just right. A touch from Jaskier that Geralt hadn't minded keeping. He asked Jaskier to help him build it.

He walks slowly down the corridor. Emptier than it would be. Normally any number of priestesses and travellers here. But unlike the hollowness of the main hall above, there's no real sense of absence or loss. His memories here are good. Most recent ones aside, perhaps. This was the first—the only—place outside of Kaer Morhen he ever felt as though he could belong. ]

Nenneke made her office here. [ He stops before a room filled with scrolls and books. The same cracked wall sits to the right. ] She'd have liked you.

[ He imagines Julie would have liked her, too. Now and then, he wonders about the old priestess—but he likes to think Nenneke will outlive them all by centuries. ]

Edited 2023-02-27 01:39 (UTC)

[ She really is enchanted. As they walk, her fingers run over the table edges, the leaves of the plants. Candles light as she gently touches them. It doesn't occur to her that there would ordinarily be people milling about; she's become so accustomed to every domain except her own being empty that it no longer crosses her mind that most of these places should be bustling.

But Julie's come to believe that these domains are, largely, extensions of the emotions they were born from. Geralt built this. He chose the warmth. That makes her happy, because she's not entirely sure that would have been the case when they were new here.

The same respect in her voice comes through in the way she enters the room he points out. She's sure part of it is left over from growing up in a religion that could be called stifling, but it's also because she holds that respect for Geralt, for these important parts of his life. For someone that meaningful to him.

She's about to ask what happened to the wall when he says that, and the crack is forgotten almost instantly. She smiles over her shoulder before turning back to him. ] You think so? She taught you how to do the signs, right?

[ Walking back to the door, she reaches for his hand. ] Show me everything.

Mm-hm. Among other things.

[ Kyle asked if he believed, and he'd answered no. Nenneke hadn't really sought to impress religion upon them. He thinks, in a manner much different than Vesemir, she also taught them how to survive an uncaring world.

He takes her hand. ] When we made too much trouble, she set us to work lighting candles. It was so tedious, I remember thinking I preferred the old man's belt.

[ Then he got older, and now he rather enjoys it. The tedious and dull things in life.

He brings her to the tables lined with small plates, decorated with miniature desserts. He offers her a cake topped with a raspberry. His sweet tooth is nonexistent these days, but he used to have one. What child did not? The temple was the first time he'd been faced with an abundance of food since arriving at Kaer Morhen. Not just functional meals, but something more. The memory left a mark. ]

Like what? [ She sounds genuinely curious. Julie’s never thought of Geralt as particularly religious —- she sort of assumes he just vaguely believes in whatever the prevailing god of the Continent is, but without following any of the actual doctrine. It wasn’t an uncommon stance in her world, and she came from one of the more openly religious places in it.

She takes a bite of the cake, makes a noise of appreciation. Julie never really had to go without food, though she knows there were times when the pantry was far more bare than others. But fancy little pastries like these, that take time and skill to make, were not something she’d had very frequently, either. She figures they must be an important part of the memory, if Geralt thought to put them here. They’re more than simply little cakes. They’re comfort.

Chewing, she covers her mouth with her hand for a moment, then swallows. ] That’s delicious.

Why did y’all come here to learn? Why not just learn from Vesemir? [ She’s glad they did get to come here, but she wonders all the same, ]

[ He gives a faint noise that says he isn't certain where to begin. ] Balance. Mostly. History, stories...words of wisdom I didn't want to hear.

[ If there were to be a prevailing goddess on the Continent, it likely would be Melitele—but perhaps, ironically, he's absorbed her philosophies without any belief in her existence. For him, they're not really about a deity. They're just the teachings of a woman who took him in and gave him something of a second home. ]

I don't know. [ Good question. ] He sent us. We went. Probably thought she could guide us better. It was tradition for Witchers to train here in the past.

[ The final door he pushes open is down the long corridor. He's offered one or two people rooms of their own in the many guest chambers available, but the one he takes Julie in is one he's shown no other except Jaskier: his own. Not the one from his childhood; Geralt prefers not to live in the past. But it is his. He's moved the few gifts he's received here instead, putting them up on the shelves. Warm sunlight spills over the golden sheets. He's often gone to her, and he thinks she might, now and again, want a place where she can come to him instead. ]

Or he wanted a fucking rest from us.

[ The Continent's equivalent of summer camp, if you will. ]

[ Her chin tilts a little, a slight curl to the corner of her mouth. Much like Geralt has only ever known her to be magically powerful, Julie has ever only known him as an already calm, balanced person. And even with the awareness that he's many, many years older than her, it's hard for her to picture him any other way.

It's almost funny. She can cobble together a mental image of a child Geralt, but he's still just as level-headed and insightful and gruff as the current one. ]

What, you wasn't always this put-together? [ She can't help but tease a little as she takes his hand again, walks next to him down the hall. Honestly, it's hard for her to imagine how much someone can change when they live seventy or eighty years without aging. It's only been two years for her, but she feels a lifetime away from the person she was in Kansas. ] So, Witcher finishin' school. Makes sense. Life can't all be slaughter and scrappin'. The break from a wild pack of hellions is just a bonus.

[ The bedroom they enter is just as lovely as the rest of the temple. It feels like a home, unlike what she's seen in Kaer Morhen. What makes the latter a home she suspects to largely be the people in it. But the atmosphere is not that of somewhere that's meant to be relaxing, welcoming, stable. Safe. All that makes a certain place feel like it's yours.

Here, there are signs that the space is owned. The gifts on shelves. Drawers that she can only assume contain a single pair of wolf ears and a tail. It feels good to be around.

She turns and reaches up, loops her arms around his neck. Her smile is content. ] I'm glad you did this.

[ A quiet laugh greets that sentiment. ] That wall in Nenneke's office—it wasn't the only thing I broke.

[ He is different. Not only from when he was a boy, but from a decade, two decades, ago. If there's one thing a long life has taught him, it's that one does not stop changing. Vesemir is not exactly the same man Geralt me as a child, nor quite the man he grew up with.

Julie, he thinks, isn't the same woman he met over a year ago, either.

He places his hand on her waist. A gentle breeze drifts through the windows. ]

So am I.

[ He's glad he could show her, too. It feels right. Better. To finally have a place that he's certain won't unravel upon him at any moment. ]

[ Sometimes, she worries that she's changed too much. Lots of the Summoned were brought from after their deaths, but Julie has yet to find someone else who also lost all trace of their existence before their summoning. Even Nadine has the knowledge that Julie knew her before. A testament to the fact that she was real. But Julie doesn't have that, not with Lloyd and Flagg gone. Everything about her history, her life, wiped off the face of the universe, leaving just a reborn woman in a pool of water.

She doesn't miss the person that she was, doesn't regret becoming the person that she is now. But she fears losing the only thing she had left. Herself.

But now, now she only thinks of him, of how happy she is. Her head isn't filled with noise, her body doesn't ache with lingering exhaustion from missed sleep. There's no crisis to deal with outside. There's just... this.

Rising slightly on her toes, she cranes her neck to kiss him, her fingers pressing into his back. ]

[ He gets it. The strange feeling of being remade or reborn. No one remembers who he was before Kaer Morhen, either. Not even Vesemir, who didn't step into his life until after the Trials. Visenna may as well not exist. On his part, he's mostly accepted the boy he once was died a long time ago. Perhaps that's for the best.

She's real to him. Here and now.

He tilts down to meet her lips. It doesn't take long for him to pull her onto the bed. The sheets are soft, the pillows stuffed with down instead of rough hay.

He hasn't got a lot of gentle things to share with her, but he has got some. It's nice to find room for it at last. ]

[ With him, she rarely thinks about the Julie who was lost. That Julie would have ruined this relationship within weeks. No, it was vital that she live through those months in Nott, all that time that forced her to grow. And that's the reality she wants, this one here now, with him. This makes her feel like maybe what she actually is scared to lose is not herself, but everything and everyone the old Julie was tied to.

The bed is soft and warm, and she knows damn well that Geralt is absolutely content to sleep on the ground even when he doesn't need to, so it's further confirmation to her of his mind. Her knees sink into the mattress as she pulls her boots off by the heels, sheds her dress like a second skin. Even going by the standards of Julie's wardrobe, her underthings are clearly meant only for viewing, not utility. She wasn't going to toss aside the tradition of putting in effort on Valentine's Day.

She reaches for him before she lies back into the pillows, her hands in his hair and along his jaw as she kisses him again. Just a few minutes ago, she had felt such satiety, contentment. Now, she feels like the Singularity, just single-minded desire she can't even voice. ]

[ He shifts backwards on the bed. His eyes follow the curves of her body as her dress slinks off her shoulders, past her hips. She does often wear something silky and lacy, but this is particularly form over function.

He tugs gently, playfully, on one of the embroidered flowers. ]

Hm. Good thing I showed you someplace nice.

[ As she lays back, he curves over her, knees on either side. His lips brush hers, and beneath his fingers, one of the flowers turns into a fresh bloom. A soft scent fills the air. He doesn't usually manipulate what already exists in the Horizon, but now and again, he's inclined. ]

Maybe warn me before takin' me someplace gross, so I know to wear my conservative delicate. Funeral panties.

[ As she smiles, the rest of the flowers blossom across her chest. Petals and leaves rest soft against her skin, rather than the somewhat scratchy backs of the appliqués.

Her hands run down his chest. Her eyelashes are low when she looks up at him with dark eyes, and her lips are parted. A flush creeps up her sternum and across her face as she pulls his shirt untucked. ]

[ A faint laugh escapes him. ] And what delicates have you reserved for monster killing?

[ His thumb brushes over the silky petals. Spring flowers. It's almost spring, he realizes. Back home, the frost would begin to melt soon. He'd make his way down the mountain. Meet the bard at the edge of some town.

Now he's just here, with them, with her, season after season. A change, but not a bad one.

He pulls his shirt over his head, discarding it to the side. Her nails scrape lightly against his skin as her hand travels. Her parted lips beckon him forward. He tilts down to kiss them again, hair falling over his shoulders. ]

Monster killin'? That definitely calls for animal print. And more coverage. [ It may be a joke, but it's still a very decisive statement. Julie will not strip her humor of its fashion sense.

He is warm against her fingertips like always, and the now-familiar squeeze in her chest intensifies. It is a feeling she had never once experienced before last year, and now she feels it all the fucking time, one of the only things that had been capable of cutting through the noise that had filled her head.

She doesn't know whether she should be concerned about how much she likes it. She finds it hard to care.

Her hands cup his face, and her neck arches. One leg rises to wrap around his hip, folds down and presses her heel against his back. Making a soft noise, she nips at his lip with her teeth, her thumb tracing over his cheek. ]

[ Almost makes him want to ask whether she's thought about it before he posed the question.

He lets some of his weight settle on top of her, holding the rest of himself up on one hand. Sometimes he sees it, the way she looks at him. It isn't as though he doesn't recognize what it could mean—but they've never spoken about it. He's not certain they need to. Not many in this world feel so permanent to him, but she's one of the few. When he thinks of months, years ahead, she's there.

Perhaps that's why it seemed important to bring her here.

His fingers work loose the buttons on his trousers. He pulls the flimsy fabric past her hips; leather creaks as he grinds against her, gripping the sheets in one hand and her leg in the other. He exhales sharply, embers igniting low in his belly. ]

[ He has seen her closets. He should know that she plans her fashion the same way she plans her parties. All the way.

She gasps quietly as her eyelids fall shut, her head dropping back into the pillow. Her arms wrap around him again, her nails digging into his back. This is the moment she never tires of, that she would keep reliving for a few centuries if she could. There is such an instant rush of satisfaction that speeds through her veins, makes her thoughts feel like a shaken up bottle of soda. Something about the squeeze makes it all feel more, sharper, better than it ever was before. Which is not nothing, considering how much she was already really into sex.

Her hips roll into his as her breath picks up. Her thigh flexes under his hand as she clutches his shoulder, looking up at him through her eyelashes. ]

[ A light shiver runs through him. Her long nails dig into his back as her hips rise to meet him, and he sinks deep into her.

The Horizon gives everything a faint ephemeral shimmer—the air almost shifting with his mood. The windows swing open, the chirping of a goldfinch drifting through. He'll never be as comfortable with the Horizon as she is, but it molds to him more easily as time passes.

He presses his lips to the dip along her collarbone. The pace he sets is unhurried, a little languorous, but the way he grips her belies the burning need growing in him. ]

[ The air seems like it's almost glittering when she closes her eyes to it, her neck arched. The noise she makes is quiet and high. She doesn't mind following the speed he sets; the slow, steady rhythm feels like it rolls around inside her body. One hand clutches the back of his head.

She feels a bead of sweat run down her calf from her knee. Her heartbeat picks up, blood rushing in her ears. Blinking at the ceiling with glazed eyes, she breaths out a soft, plaintive moan and turns his face back to her with her hands on his cheeks. Her fingers curl in his hair as she kisses him again. ]

[ Eventually, his eyes fall shut. He can feel her heart pounding as much as he can hear it.

Pleasure sparks at the base of his spine. She holds him just as tightly in return, and he lets his lips part for her. He can taste the blackberries and honey from the miniature cakes; light, airy.

Inch by inch, his hand roams over the plane of her stomach, down towards the side of her leg. Her skin is hot, slick—the scent of her wraps around him. He finds that soft spot just behind her knee, nails scratching lightly. ]

[ Her skin tingles in the wake of his touch; she wraps her legs around him, her ankles locking against his back. Her nails pull down his shoulder and arm before she closes her hand around his wrist. When she breaks away from his lips, it's only to pant with her mouth slack and kiss-swollen.

A heavy pressure starts to bloom from the center of her body outward, weight stacking in time with their movements. Her eyes are glazed, so close to his face that he just looks like a blur. Every breath she takes seems to drag noise with it as she exhales; her voice sounds loud in her own head even though she's barely murmuring.

Eyelashes fluttering, her back arches and she gasps. There's a moment of just white silence as her thoughts fizzle, and then there's nothing in the world except his breath against her skin. ]

[ A stuttered breath falls from his lips, then her name. He drinks in the sight of her, arched beneath him, flush red. His hips shift; the sheets twist around his fingers, and if he tears something, he pays it no mind.

It's a bit after her that he tenses, toe-curling pleasure spilling free. Blood rushes between his ears. He feels heavy and light all at once; the sun glittering through the stained glass grows too warm against his damp skin. For a moment, he forgets where the sun is even coming from.

Eventually, he rolls off, landing on his back beside her on the bed. The chandelier swings lazily above. ]

[ Her legs shudder around him as her nails press into his skin; she stays taut as a bowstring until he stills. Only then does she manage a full breath rather than a whimpering wheeze. Her whole body seems to thrum with each heartbeat, all the way into her fingers and toes.

When he rolls away, she turns on her side to face him, pushing up briefly on one elbow to slip out her bra, now made of flowers that she doesn't want to crush underneath herself. Settling her head back on the pillow, she looks at him with her eyelids low. ]

I could stay here for ages.

[ He props himself up on an elbow, watching her. She looks relaxed. So is he, the sheets tangled between his ankles. ]

You can. Doors are open.

[ She can come any time she wants. For once, he has a place he does not mind visitors wandering through. The temple isn't impersonal, but it holds few of the memories he prefers not to answer questions about. Some part of him knows that Kaer Morhen speaks for itself, between the scorch marks and crumpled walls and skeletal remains. That it says things he does not want to address out loud.

This is better. ]

[ She blinks, then snorts as she reaches for his hand. ] I mean with you, dummy.

[ It is a truly beautiful, relaxing place to be, but without him, it's just a backdrop for her. An empty backdrop, for someone who never wants to be alone. But she appreciates the sentiment, that she is welcome in his space even without him.

With a sigh, she briefly closes her eyes, content to just have fucking silence in her head for a bit. ] Did I tell you that Nadine and I are gonna find a bigger place? Like, a whole house.

[ Oh. He blinks back at her, and there's a small smile in response. Yes. That. ]

Is that so. [ He hums. It feels about time. The two have been living out of the inn for a while. Even Geralt's put down roots of a sort, with a place he returns to, where he stores his belongings instead of keeping them permanently strapped to his horse.

It's strange, but not in an unwelcome way. ]

Does that mean I'll be carrying boxes soon?

[ Smiling, she laces her fingers with his, lets their hands rest between them on the bed. Her response is a hum. ]

Soon-ish. We haven’t gone out lookin’ yet, officially. We need somewhere big enough for all the plants. Maybe with enough free land for a greenhouse.

[ The flat at the inn would be enough, honestly, if not for Nadine’s gardens. Every variety of medicinal herb imaginable currently occupy most of their free space, and that’s without accounting for what Nadine has already moved to the back of the clinic. Not to mention the space they need for the cannabis operation. ]

I’m mostly worried ‘bout not findin’ anywhere close enough to where we are. I don’t wanna be clear on the other side of the city from everyone else.

[ Mm. Right, the plants. Between Nadine and Jaskier, Cadens is truly flourishing in greenery. Not that Geralt can complain; he misses the abundance of lush trees and grass, and though the potted plants and contained gardens are not the same, it's better than nothing.

Besides, the rare rains spring some nice flowers around. ]

You'll find something. [ Physical distance features less on Geralt's mind—his frequent travels means he's usually apart from everyone for a week or more at a time—but he does not expect Jaskier wants Nadine very far, either; he imagines if nothing else, the bard can pull some strings. But the truth is, a good chunk of coin will get you far in the Free Cities, and that they do have.

It'll be nice to have a place away from the tavern where he can return to after a job. Something quieter. ]

Edited 2023-05-10 21:09 (UTC)

[ Julie actually finds the desert landscape fairly unpleasant. While she's used to wide open spaces, no trees, Kansas still had grass and flowers, four full seasons. Nearly her entire time in the desert before was in casinos, and everyone knows there's no windows in a casino.

Being in close proximity to Nadine and Jaskier's plants feels like a luxury now. ]

I'm just hopin' it don't take too long. [ Honestly, she's relying a lot on Nadine to take care of everything. She has no idea what kind of timeline they're on here.

Rolling onto her stomach, she props herself on her elbows with a smirk. ] It's a lot of rooms to break in.

[ Geralt knows nothing about purchasing land (or a home) or even renting one long-term, either. He's been wandering his entire life. Were it not for Jaskier and Ciri, he'd have likely drifted in and out of inns to this day.

But he's glad they're settling, her and Nadine. A permanence to their presence in Cadens.

He turns his head to look at her, a small smile lingering. There's that. ] We'll get started early.

[ When they do finally choose a home, he'll show up with a small set of shelves for the place—ones he's built in his spare time, with little perching stands on the sides for the two fluttering moth hares. ]

[ open ] If you're feelin' like you need a little bit of company

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nsfw

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wrap soon?

you got it dude

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