WELCOME TO THE FREE CITIES!

[abraxasmods]

WELCOME TO THE FREE CITIES!

Welcome to The Free Cities! The portal exits outside the capital city of Cadens. The first impression of the city is its sheer size. It sprawls out across the landscape like a great hulking beast at rest. The wall that encircles it barely contains it, the buildings of Cadens practically bulging against its restraint.

The air here seems thicker somehow, tinged with a scent that’s acrid and smoky. Smog hangs high over the city, belched out by smokestacks that tower over the industrial district. The desert stretches out behind it, dotted with towers and dust clouds that disappear into the horizon. Multiple gates lead inside and each is staffed by soldiers in unfamiliar uniforms that wave a steady stream of people through without appearing to pay much attention. People are coming and going almost all of the time, to and from the outposts and areas of activity around the city proper. It’s difficult to tell just what’s out there beyond the impression of tall metal structures and a great deal of labor. Wagons carrying travelers to Libertas and Aquila roll out from the Travel Post outside the city wall.

Anyone who can sense magic will notice a much lower concentration here. No one will be stopped or questioned at the gate, even if the soldiers seem to take note of the fugitives from Thorne.

The activity and sheer number of citizens can be overwhelming. It’s crowded and loud and feels constantly in motion with everyone talking and yelling over each other. It’s easy to get swept up in the ever-moving throng or find oneself ducking into the mouth of a narrow alley just to breathe.

Anyone who’s willing to make their way to the northern part of the city and Portham Hall will find Prime Minister Marlo Reiner available to receive them.

Comments

Meeting With Marlo

[abraxasnpcs]

[Portham Hall stands in the northernmost part of Cadens, an old stately manor home that serves as both the residence and offices of the Prime Minster. A large bronze plaque over the wooden double doors reads 'Portham Hall - Heart of the Free Cities'.

Anyone interested in a meeting with the Prime Minister will be escorted by guards to a comfortably furnished waiting room outside of Marlo Reiner's office. After a brief wait they will be ushered in to meet the woman herself, who's taken time out of her busy day to meet with any fugitives from Thorne who wish to speak to her.

The office itself looks to be a grand study that's been turned to political use. There's an elegant fireplace against one wall with a pair of high backed leather chairs in front of it. A great shaggy brown and white hunting dog sprawls on the floor between chairs and fireplace, glancing up at anyone who enters with bored interest. Shelves of books and curios line the walls. Marlo, dressed in red and brown military style jacket and trousers with a short sword hanging at her hip, stands to greet her visitors. The detail and craftsmanship imply a formal ceremonial uniform rather than the clothes of an active soldier. Her braided hair is pulled back severely from her face. A mounted display of a pair of crossed broadswords hangs on the wall behind her.]

[falcony]

[ part of sam feels like this should have been his first stop after arriving in the city. the responsible, captain america part would know that talking to the powers at be would mean easier sailing all around. but the truth of it is - sam had to check on his people first. had to help usher those from the portal inside the city gates. see about getting people situated, about where to meet and what to do. whether or not it's successful is still yet to be seen, but sam puts the work into it all the same.

but that does also mean that getting to the offices of prime minister marlo? takes a bit. probably a day or so. if he's being honest, sam doesn't feel like meeting with marlo much at all, his thoughts instead elsewhere. on others. in other places.

it's why, when the guard comes to usher sam inside, he startles, just a little bit, before he stands to step inside. his body language is formal, polite, professional - and if her uniform is anything to go by, sam made the right assumption. he does take a brief moment to scan the room, picking up on the weapons, the old hunting dog, the weapons. despite it feeling a bit like a movie set he's just walked into, sam picks up on enough about that that almost feels normal that it is beginning to feel like there's ground under his feet. ]

Ma'am. [ he says, bowing his head slightly. again, polite. he knows what he wants to bring up, here, but he's testing the waters of how to get there. ] Thank you for seeing me.

[productid4]

[Of course Louis visits the prime minister. He takes time first to get a place to stay for the night, washing off the day's grime and making himself presentable before going to visit. He'll stand out no matter what he does, but as always, he intends to stand out as something striking and regal rather than a bedraggled deer.

As he arrives in her room, he bows his head politely, the gesture having an inherent flourish by virtue of all his antlers moving with him.]

Prime Minister. It's a pleasure.

[He straightens his back, looking her in the eye.] My name is Louis. I'm a recent arrival from Thorne.

[song_of_ice]

[He can't say exactly why he decided to make this visit. Speaking with the Mages in Thorne and the other officials had done little good. A part of him had wanted to take the measure of this prime minister, to see what sort of life they could expect. Though it seemed to be a poor excuse on his part, given how the citizens greeted them and how easy it was to fall into a life here.

So here he was, feeling a bit out of place, looking at both the Prime Minister and the surroundings in surprise. It was different than Thorne and much else he knew, but it was comfortable and...for lack of a better word, more free.

He bowed his head in respect, uncertain how someone of her position should be greeted. What was the honorific title? My lady? Your highness?]

Your grace? [He took the long shot and risked looking ridiculous.]

[rehandle]

[ It's not so very long after they arrive that Stephen makes his way across the city to Portham Hall. Thorne's garments earn him looks that read from quizzical to critical and he sends those looks right back, but the city doesn't seem set to condemn him any more than it attempted to keep him from passing through its gates. So he arrives without altercation, a flourish of one hand righting any inexcusable wrong the hurry of the day might have done to the general visual state he's in before entering the Hall.

Generally speaking, courting authority isn't his thing. He and his keep to their spaces, free of the micro-management of beaureaucrats that have no idea what it is they're protecting them from. Wilson will be over here soon enough, no doubt. Much more his speed.

But this isn't a normal situation. They find themselves not just in a new city but a new city in a new world, a world where he doesn't already know the deal. If they're going to make the best of this, they're going to need to understand what they're working with.

Who they're working with.

Thornean authority hadn't mixed well with his temperament or his moral expectations, but they're not in Thorne anymore. Time to see if they stand any greater chance of meaningful collaboration here. ]

Prime Minister Reiner. [ A handful of hours in Cadens was time enough for him to at least do basic homework. He nods in greeting and thanks, a brief display of deference to higher office than he'll ever hold in this world that he hopes will tide him over for the rest of the conversation. ] Doctor Stephen Strange.

[ Time enough for reports to ripple back from the gates too, no doubt. Democracy or not, it's not as if any random citizen could walk into the White House uninvited and shake the hand of the President. Not that American democracy is really anybody's benchmark, but surely this is special treatment - which most likely means the conversation has worth on both sides. ]

I assume you've had word?

Alucard | Castlevania | Cadens

[cryptsleeper]

I. Wolf encounter
[Alucard steps through the portal as a wolf with a frog perched upon his head.  On the other side, he takes a moment to sniff the air.  Consider.  Bow his head so Hector can reclaim the frog, and then?

And then he is off like a shot.

This isn't the freedom to run through a dense forest in the dead of night, no prying eyes to see him or question the long howls at the moon.  This is ducking and weaving through a city that Alucard does not know, but the freedom to move is a miracle in and of itself.

The wolf winds through gates, past guards who see a flash of white but then no more, and then finally, finally, he runs himself to the point of stopping.

It is in the outskirts of the city that he finds himself, and the wolf goes still beside one of the gates.  Golden eyes watch carefully, noting those who come and go.  He won't find someone from the little group of escapees yet, at least not for a few hours.

It is also anyone's guess if he'll actually perk up if approached.]

II. Museum
[He needs to be earning money for travel.  For a crypt.  To find a place at the far end of this world to hole up and finally keep the world at bay.  It is not, Alucard knows, what his mother would have wanted.  She wanted his father to see the world.  Doubtlessly he'd have the same imperative.

Alucard knows he has no place in the world, and far greater concerns as well.  But it is for the sake of knowing what his mother would want that he takes pays the fee to go to the Hall of Natural Relics.  How better to see the whole of a place by just walking around a building?  Perfect.

It's why he is currently standing in front of a taxidermied....creature....of some sort.  Rabbit sized but not a rabbit, the face of it looking as if the taxidermist was trying to convey an expression of impossible unease and--]

That cannot be the correct facial structure.

[Bad taxidermy is also an art.]

III. Drinking
I am becoming the Belmont.

[The words are uttered quietly in some corner of a forgotten bar, one that Alucard has occupied for the evening.  There's a wine bottle in progress, and it goes a little too well with the halo of absolute and utter self loathing that rolls off of him.

He's done what he could for coin today.  The drinking is justified, and there's no reliance on Hector for the funds.  He will not owe the necromancer drinking money.

The night drags on.]

IV. A shopping street
[In exploring the city, it had occurred to Alucard that he ought to finally start to look for cemeteries where he could begin work on his crypt properly.  While this place as far too populous (what had he been thinking with Gresit?  Ah.  Yes.  Prophecy.), it would be a fair place to begin understanding burials in this world.

So he picked a street and simply began following it. Surely they didn't just expose their dead to the dessert.

Noise blends together.  Becomes easy to tune out, until some enterprising salesman reaches out.  Places a hand on Alucard's shoulder.

The reaction is instant.  There's a hiss, a far too quick movement to brush off the hand, and Alucard whips around.]

Don't grab at me.

[There's anger there, red hot and deeply uncomfortable.  Below it though there's the texture of something else.  Fear and flashing memories, all unwanted.]

V. Wildcard

IV.

[gynvael]

[ It's been some time since Geralt's had to do this, but a new city means a new place he needs to map out. In the few days he's been in Cadens, where he isn't doing some odd job or other, he's spent it walking: quietly noting the streets and landmarks as he does until a picture begins to form. He misses the cooler temperatures of Thorne. It's drier here; warmer than he likes.

Shame Thorne's hospitality is lacking.

Both a familiar scent and voice catches his attention up ahead. Geralt tilts his head. Watches the human innocently reach for the vampire. That spike in heartbeats. Ah, shit. There's a brief pause as he contemplates whether he should step in at all—but the last thing he wants is a skittish vampire taking it out on unsuspecting humans. Because then he might have to kill him, and that's a complication Geralt really doesn't need in his life.

He slips silently up behind the man, and then in between him and Alucard. Gives the merchant a small push to encourage him to fuck off elsewhere. ] Making friends?

IV

[petcromancer]

[Hector and Alucard split up when they crossed over in the portal, and Hector had hoped a fully grown dhampir could take care of himself and not do anything to potentially get himself arrested again.

So of course when he finds him again, Alucard is in the process of hissing in the face of some hapless huckster.]

There you are!

[Hector steps up, pretending to be friendlier than he is, and waves the salesman away. He's not going to risk losing a hand by touching Alucard himself, but he's giving the salesman an opportunity to get the fuck away.]

Found an inn that still has room for the night. It's not luxurious, but the beds are clean.

I. I feel like I had to

[cointosser]

[It is hours later after this nearly catastrophic escape from Throne that Jaskier finds himself a moment to be alone, and the desire to take the moment when given to him, which may as well be a completely unnatural phenomenon. In any other time or place, he would have thrived being the only man among their three-man troupe with a bag of gold and the desire to spend it in a city that flourished like this.

Now it feels he's struggled for every word and action; in hours, they managed clothes for Geralt and Ciri, an inn room for the night. Enough coin for more nights thus, if he cannot find it in himself to perform.

Honestly, he doesn't want to. He wants a day where nothing is expected of him, where he does not attract attention now turn heads nor need to flatter a guard or a king or a powerful courtier.

He goes off on his own with the promise they'll all converge on the inn later. He needs time to... to bury some thoughts, unearth some others, arrange them in a way that makes sense. And, honestly, take a piss.

It feels it makes sense to head towards the gates of a town: just like home, surely there's a forest or a pluck of bushes out there without prying eyes. He wants to feel nature and taste real, raw freedom, no longer shoved about in that castle.

And, more importantly, he finds he has the desire to practice. Practice his magic. Jaskier doesn't know what the people here will think of such flagrant showings from a stranger, so he hasn't done a thing with it. And now, with the gate behind him, he brushes his fingers together and crafts his favorite: a little bluebird that sits on his palm, twitching its head this way and that, until it hops up onto his shoulder and watches behind him. A lookout. (He doesn't need to be the next man with his throat slit taking a piss.)

Of course, there's no bloody forests, but this wasteland of death that apparently borders the city has some convenient, scrabbly bushes, which will do fine enough.

The bird chirps urgently, pecking his ear, and with a hiss he turns to see:

Oh. A wolf.

Like his own. White, and large. Golden eyes. For a moment, he is back in the Horizon again. But this wolf isn't his; the head is not so angular, and he doesn't see the scars he'd noticed on his own. And this is real. Not the Horizon.

Welp. What a spot of hot, shitty luck.]

All right, my canine friend. It'll only take a moment. [He hasn't even gotten to the point of, you know, untying his trousers, but he's. Getting there. He creeps a little further back, tucking behind a bush, unfortunately lamenting that the one weapon he had on him is now in Geralt's possession.] Er. Good wolf. You stay there. I'll stay over here.

ii.

[frontlinetitties]

[Whilst visiting a stuffy old building full of shitty relics is hardly her idea of a good time, Gideon has to admit - silently, and only to herself - that it is interesting. Interesting, because having spent the vast majority of her short life cast down into the dark and mouldering depths of the Ninth House, there are an awful lot of things that she has never encountered, never even dreamed of. And okay, this place isn't precisely a party filled with hot babes all vying for a chance to watch her do chin-ups, but it is interesting. Informative.

When she wanders into the Hall of Natural Relics and finds it filled - largely - with ancient dead shit, it reminds her almost touchingly of Drearburgh. Sort of. Almost. The vast array of relics on display here don't resemble anything she's ever encountered back in the cold, slow-decaying place she'd refused to call home for 18 years; spiders and other unpleasant things that enjoy creeping around in the cold and dark were the only lifeforms that ever took up residence there. Besides the Locked Tomb acolytes and hermits of course, and most them were more unpleasant to behold than the spiders.

She looks up from the exhibit she'd been half-heartedly peering at when the sound of someone else's voice punches down through her own reveries, and moves to take a look at the thing he'd been referring to. Abruptly, she laughs.]

It looks like a bag of ass.

[She announces, most eloquently.]

II

[not_caroline]

Yeah, prob'ly definitely not.

[Coraline was definitely not by his elbow about five seconds earlier, and the fact that she is, is entirely a stupid flex to see if she could surprise him.]

Still, not the worst job I've ever seen.

geralt of rivia | the witcher | the hanged man

[gynvael]

I. THE BEGINNING [ ciri + jaskier ]

[ The portal spits him out on the other side: disorienting, stomach lurching. When he looks back, there is no portal. No way back. She isn't gone; he knows that. So why does it feel as though she is? It'd be different if she'd simply chosen another city, if she'd even run. But she hasn't. She's staying in the one place he can't reach, where he knows he can't possibly do anything if...

When his fingers sink into the cool dirt, though—he looks up, pushes Yennefer out of his mind. Searches for Ciri and Jaskier at once. Searches and does not find. A spike of fear sends his heart into his throat. Where the fuck are they? If the sudden rush of his senses inside Thorne had hit him hard him, it's nothing compared to now: there are thousands of bodies, a million sounds and smells. Things he'd not felt for weeks, not only because of the loss of his abilities but because there was nowhere near this many people in the dungeons. He'd never set foot in the towns of Thorne.

He shuts his eyes. He can't pick out any particular scent when he should be able to. It should be easy. He's found Jaskier how many damn times in the overflowing streets of Novigrad? But here, now, he can't. Every time he breathes in, it's just the acrid stench of smog and sweat, horses and people. And he thinks—he can't lose them again. He can't lose her again.

He opens his eyes again. Ignores the ice building in his veins as he stares into the crowd. For that flash of ash blond, for the mop of brown hair and that lute that never leaves Jaskier's hands. ] Ciri. Cirilla. [ Shit. ] Jaskier.

II. RESHAPING [ OPEN ]

[ It's late night when Geralt finally steps into the Horizon for the first time since they were forcibly dragged there. His trust in it remains low, but there are two things he does believe: that the local inhabitants of this sphere cannot enter and that it is, currently, the only method of communicating with those left behind beyond easily intercepted letters. 

He passes by the snowy mountains first. The cabin still stands, same as ever. Lilac bushes; small yellow flowers. Campfire with cold ashes. Some part of him is afraid he might see the shadow of the girl, flitting about. He tears every piece of it down without looking, without wanting to know what lurks. It is different this time, building against the instinct that tells him how fucking unnatural it all feels. Quicker. He shapes something, not because he cares to have a place in this hollow arena but because he knows he should. Somewhere he can speak to her, if needed. (If she comes). Somewhere he can retreat if he needs...time.

Deciding what to build comes easily. What else? The walls of the stone keep rise, snow covers the ground, and the Blue Mountains loom in the distance, a view that's little more than just that. Real enough to look at, though. The Kaer Morhen that sits here is entirely from memory, without change, without effort to smooth its battleworn edges, or hide the literal bones half-buried under the heavy snow. Only difference is its smaller yard, the fewer rooms that occupy the inside. The snow drifts down in small flakes, and the white powder under his boots is fresh.

The path that goes up is steep but not too rough. Most of the time, the gates are unlocked. Geralt can be found here in the keep, either rearranging the sword rack that sits outside or regaining his edge on wooden stilts high above the ground. Three months without a sword in his hand hasn't sat well with him. If anyone walks inside, they're likely to spot the chestnut mare that sits in her stable. Just don't ask about the giant skeleton that's casually there alongside everything else. Long story.

On occasion, Geralt might stop by your domain instead if something catches his eye. Or hell—might be he's riding by and you've called him over. Who knows? ]

III. REUNION [ sam wilson ]

[ The second thing he does in the Horizon is make good on his promise to Sam. Hard to say if the man made it out; Geralt's trusted that Sam knows what he's doing, but he's all too aware of the dangers of waiting too long: spell collapses early, portals destabilized, an unexpected interference. He hadn't gotten to stay behind to make sure Sam or anyone else came through all right. Taking both Jaskier and Ciri somewhere safe, far away from the portal's drop point, had been his priority.

Even so. Geralt won't let himself worry unless something proves to have gone wrong. He hops on Roach and ventures towards the blue house by the water. The warmth as he draws near is familiar. He finds the house unchanged: trimmed white, a willow tree in the yard. A good sign. No others around, either. He inks less of a note and more of a rough image: a sculpture that marks an area in the Aquila marketplace. And one word: dusk. The parchment is signed only with a G.; the stroke is simple, precise, but with an archaic edge. He slips it under the door; makes sure none of its edges are visible.

At dusk, he goes where he's indicated. His appearance is far less rough than it'd been in the dungeons, with clothes that fit and his hair actually washed. Tucked behind the narrow alley between merchant carts, it isn't immediately apparent he's waiting for someone. Geralt is not looking at anyone who passes by just outside the alleyway; he doesn't need to anymore (finally, at fucking last). Instead, he's watching nothing in particular, gaze lingering at an absent point in front of him. Only when he hears footsteps, catches that familiar scent, does he push off from the wall. ] Took you long enough.

IV. A DRINK OR THREE [ OPEN ]

[ The reality of it is that Geralt's not indulged in a drink as much as he'd prefer. Part of it is because he's spent the first few days too on edge to let himself relax; the other part is purely monetary. Geralt's not unused to being without coin, but he's never been without his gear. Or his horse. And there isn't a whole lot he can do when he's separated from his swords. Separated from the entire hunting monsters thing altogether. At least for the time being, until he can catch wind of some contract or other.

But: he's tired. He's tired of not knowing what the fuck is happening back in Thorne with Yen, he has a few coins to rub together, and he needs a damn drink. So he's here, in the cheapest watering hole he can find stuffed in the winding alleys of Libertas. Despite situating himself in a corner, where he can keep one eye on the door, Geralt's not completely opposed if anyone decides to invite themselves to his table.

Not that he'll give much of a glance up. Consider your company accepted solely by the fact that he hasn't told you to fuck off. ]

Don't expect any rounds on me.

V. WILDCARD

[ feel free to find Geralt around the Free Cities or in Horizon and start anything you like! He's likely to be drinking and doing some simple labour for easy money; he is prone to being in Libertas where he blends in best with the unsavoury crowd, but you can find him between any of the cities. Either way, he's ripe for bothering.

Or hit me up at discontinued or his plotting comment if you want to hash out something more specific. ]

group hug o'clock!!

[wiedzminka]

[ Ciri has been counting the minutes anxiously.

With one arm, she wipes her red and puffy eyes, rubbing the coarse, dingy fabric of her prison tunic's sleeve across her face to smear the tears and dirt in a way that isn't helpful in the slightest; with the other, she grips Jaskier by the elbow, crumpling the fabric of his shirt where her fingers squeeze it tightly. She tries to train her breathing -- get ahold of yourself, you pathetic fool! -- but it isn't working yet. Not when the anxiety claws at her lungs with every stuttering breath that barely manages to keep from being a sob. For now.

They wait. The seconds crawl by. The noise of the city, ignored and unimportant to her at this moment, fades into the background, a meaningless cacophony. She doesn't look around. The portal was a one-way door, and Ciri only has their current location to go by, refusing to let herself be distracted and risk losing Geralt in the crowd of people traveling in and out of the gate they seem to find themselves just outside of. ]

He'll be here soon. [ She tells this to Jaskier, but it's not for his benefit. Ciri squeezes the bard's arm without looking over at him. ] Just watch-- There.

[ The crackle of magic. She can feel it, raw and harsh, stronger in its impression for the lack of magic around them now in this new place.

Ciri gasps aloud, a catching, damp sound that sticks in her throat.

And then she's running, dashing forward the few yards to where Geralt has fallen in the dirt, panic and relief surging in her chest. Jaskier, still firmly in her grip, will simply have to keep up. ]

Geralt!

[ Ciri cries, dragging Jaskier down with her when she falls to her knees beside the Witcher. Only then does she let go, and only so that she can reach for Geralt instead. ]

[falcony]

[ it takes some time, before sam can work his way here. between getting settled in cadens and having to have his talk with the prime minister and just. making sure the people he could get to were settled and were not getting into any immediate trouble, sam doesn't feel like he's slept much, if at all. there's so much he's been trying to keep a handle on, so much he's trying to play out, to make work. he needs everyone who came through that portal to have a safe place, and his discussions with the prime minister...

well. it's all a work in progress. everything feels like a work in progress, and while sam is used to the feeling of everything being unsure and uncertain, it doesn't mean he is able to rest with that uncertainty hanging over him. last time, too, it had been easier - he had trusted steve, and that was all he needed. now...now it's all on him.

( it also doesn't have anything to do with the fact there are still people unaccounted for. people he'd told to meet him here, who he hasn't found. bucky, for one, and geralt. jaskier. ciri. )

it takes him a second before he goes back into the horizon, needing time to get his feet settled in the city before he leaves it. but when he finds the note - god. it's hard to describe the amount of relief that fills him. the weight he hadn't realized had been wearing him down being lifted. sam, as immediately as he can manage, gets back to himself and to the aforementioned location - feeling a bit breathless through it all, too. his worry over geralt and jaskier and ciri had been a low-burning heat he had done his best to handle. but in knowing they're okay, in knowing they're just one city over...he has to check.

he times it right, he thinks, and let's his training take over as he walks through the marketplace. keeps his eyes open for a splash of white hair. it's hard to keep the rising tension in his chest at bay, because there is just too much around him he can't settle on for this to be taken away from him too, but geralt is here. he knows he is. that fact is something sam finds he can lean on, as he searches.

and of course geralt finds him first, of course it's geralt, appearing out of an alleyway behind sam, washed and cleaned and looking all the ways a new human. it hits him, a bit belatedly, how good it feels just to see him. which is part of the reason sam doesn't bother hiding the way his face breaks into a smile as he comes to a stop. ]

You son of a bitch. [ said fondly. ] Took me long enough? [ and yes, sam is closing the distance between them. does geralt want a hug? hopefully so, because sam is going in for one. ]

Drinks

[petcromancer]

[Hector takes a seat beside Geralt, just two silver haired social outcasts in a bar. He has a stein in each hand, and sets one in front of the witcher with a clunk.]

To your freedom.

[Hector had planned to pay his debt off in a more spectacular fashion, but since he didn't get to help spring Geralt from prison, a few rounds of ale will have to do.]

Drinks

[productid4]

[Louis sits next to the silver-haired human. He signals the bartender. Whiskey on the rocks, thank you.]

I'm not in the habit of relying on charity for my drinks.

[He takes a long drink of his whiskey, his ears pressed back.]

You were one of the humans who escaped from Thorne, correct?

[Underneath the smell of deer that radiates off him, there's the scent of trace blood and treated wood coming from his knee and leg. But if he's injured in any way, he doesn't let onto it.]

Drinking, what else?

[song_of_ice]

[Geralt was a bit more broody than Jon for once. Spending the day out among others, exploring and shedding himself of past burdens, he feels lighter and able to smile or laugh. Horizon had helped with that, being free of Thorne made it even easier. Though he isn't surprised to see Geralt still troubled and thinking over things. That seemed to be a common state for him. He really could be an uncle of his, if he didn't look so much like a Targaryen.

He took the seat next to Geralt, not expecting much in conversation, but still laughing at the quip.]

Fine, I'll pay for the next few rounds.

A drink!

[frontlinetitties]

[This isn't precisely how she'd imagined freedom would look. Her girlhood plans had all orbited around signing up with the Cohort, where she would engage in glorious battles as a front-liner. In these imaginings she always became a magnificent force to be reconned with whilst looking incredibly attractive, winning medals and accolades and the deep respect of her peers. She supposes that kind of future isn't necessarily off the cards, but for the moment she's here, in this place blooming with hot, chaotic life, and a small secret part of her almost (almost!) misses the chill silence and mouldering depths of Drearburgh. There are more people here than she could ever have dreamed of coming into contact with, more than she could ever have conceived of existing in one place, and they're all out jostling in the street and forming loud, raucous crowds, and sometimes - despite herself - they get the better of her.

That's what she's really doing in this dim little dive of a bar. She hadn't been looking to lose herself in the bottom of a pint glass, hadn’t been looking for debaucherous intoxication opportunities. Instead she'd ducked inside just to get her bearings, and sit down a moment. So quietly overwhelmed is she, that she doesn't exactly notice that someone else is sitting at the wonky little table until after she drops heavily into an empty seat. Her head comes up at the sound of his voice though, aureate eyes skimming swiftly over his face.]

Huh? Oh! No, I can get my own drink. I'm not looking for handouts. Just a free seat.

ii, a week and change after the last time

[cryptsleeper]

[The intent is simple: leave a side of smoke fish at the door of Geralt's cabin and go. A quiet acknowledgement that the Witcher was right to pull Alucard aside and force him to drink bad beer, because between that or completely losing it, bad beer was the better option.

But as the dhampir approaches the Domain, he doesn't see the cabin. Oh, there's plenty of snow, and he's dressed with warm boots and a fur lined coat to withstand it, all along with a little picnic basket that looks downright domestic, but there's no cabin.

There is a castle, there are soaring trees, and while no, it isn't home, there is the ache of familiar intent. A fortress to keep things out, and ensure isolation.

He's absolutely here with no proper cause. So the dhampir looks for an appropriate place to simply deposit the basket and then be on his way.]

for alina.

[gynvael]

[ Venturing outside the walls has been one of his main priorities. He's mostly figured out the city: a sprawl of taverns and inns and merchants. Same as any city. It's what lies beyond that has his interest: that's where he's likely to find his work.

Which isn't work he can do until he has a sword in hand. He can scout it, though. He's forked over some coin to hire a horse for the day to do exactly that. Not the same as having a horse of his own, but she'll do.

Out here, the air isn't as stifling, though it's no less heated. The one thing that bothers him, the heat—heavy in a way he isn't used to, coming from the north. At least the hills are familiar in their own way. He leaves the mare tethered to a nearby tree while he walks. Maps out what he can until something catches his attention. A scent, but not of a single thing. Like deer, except mixed with something else. No deer tracks, either. It's curious enough he follows the trail. He's quiet, but not making any real attempt to be silent, and a twig snaps under his boot as he draws towards—

A girl. If she turns around, she might notice a faint expression on his face that suggests she's not exactly what he expected to find here. ]

Jon Snow | Game of Thrones | The Emperor

[song_of_ice]

I. Let's Get Started, Shall We?

[It's not really pretty to look at, more like King's Landing than the North that he knew better and loved. Everything was packed together and the air was less clear than at the Wall. The desert could be similar to Dorne, but as he had never seen it, he could only use his imagination from the stories Old Nan told him. It was strange to look across and see the sands now, but that unfamiliarity was thrilling in a way. Free of Thorne and the castle, free from the guilt of failing to protect the prisoners, and free from who he was before Horizon, this place was a strange adventure in itself.

Approaching the city, no one looks at him strangely or treats him as an outsider. The majority of his life, he had been forced to endure such things. It was refreshing to step through the gates and be greeted by soldiers and merchants as though they knew him for years.

It's strange, but he relaxes, his shoulders rolling back and a rare smile on his face. This wasn't home, but it was better than Thorne.

It was surprise to recognize anyone from the castle, but after so long together, how could he not? He nodded, approaching, even if they never spoke before.]

What do you think so far?

II. The Hall of Natural Relics

[Jon can't say he's normally interested in study and learning the way both Samwell and Belle seemed to be, but he doesn't fight the urge to visit one of the numerous museums. The Hall of Natural Relics seemed most appealing and the best way for him to learn about the Free Cities, given that he was likely staying for some time. The quiet was at least something he appreciated and preferred, but still, he becomes a studious student and wanders from exhibit to exhibit. There's a small wish that Samwell was here to explain things to him as only Sam could, but it wasn't as if he needed his hand held.

He lingers longest at the skeletal remains and the preserved plants, looking for similarities to what he knows. He becomes so enthralled with the skeleton of an animal, he doesn't realize someone is next to him. Straightening, he bumps them with his shoulder.]

My apologies! I didn't see you there.

III. Another Drink

[He's exhausted by the end of the day, and while he starts to think about what is facing him, it's made easier by with a full mug of ale. Or whatever it was that they served here. He's winded and fatigued by all of the activity and change. He wouldn't sleep as well as he might in Horizon, but he wanted to get used to the city, and a drunken stupor of sorts would help.

The tavern was crowded, like much else with the Free Cities. There were a number of voices and people practically on top of each other. The noise was rather soothing, given that his thoughts could sometimes lead him to more morose subjects. For once, he was ending the day feeling as light as he had started it.

It's why he's in a good enough mood to offer anyone who takes the seat next to him:] Next round's on me.

IV. Wildcard

[OOC: Nothing here suit your fancy? Craft your own, I'm open to anything.]

iii.

[frontlinetitties]

[He's not the only one to feel the hard fingers of exhaustion clutching at his heart; all of this, it's a lot to take in all at once. Particularly when one has mostly spent one's days steeped in stony silence, down deep in the chill, dark halls of Drearburh. For the vast majority of her life her only company has been an ancient old military captain long discharged from service, the odd scurrying shadow of nuns and penitents eager to avoid her, and a woman with whom for the longest time there had only been hardness and violence between them. The shabby little tavern she's ducked into for a moment's reprieve from the strangeness outside contains more living souls than she'd known in all her eighteen years.

She picks her way through the press of the crowd toward the one vacant seat she can easily spot, and when the other guy already occupying the table offers her a drink out of nowhere, she looks at him in mild surprise.]

Really? Thanks, you're a pal.

Coraline Finch | Changeling: The Lost | Tower

[not_caroline]

Freedom (Closed to Jon and Kiryu)

It's infuriating how close to the mark it felt, the three of them finally leaving - in truth it had been something close to forty minutes spent there, and the entirety of it was far too long for Coraline's liking. On finally stepping through, however, she isn't expecting the wind that slams into her and her companions to be hot and acrid, and the suddenness of it makes her leafy hair shrivel slightly as she winces.

She turns her gaze back to Jon, his wrist still gripped tight in her hand, and Kiryu behind them - and blinks at the lack of portal behind them.

"It's gone." Her voice is smaller than she'd like, and she immediately bristles, pulling herself to stand straighter and ignore the tightness in her chest.

Pickpocketeer

It's a tricky game, learning the subtle art of exactly how to steal from someone and get away with it. Coraline's never really had to do it before (got screamed at so hard she nearly vomited from anxiety, once) but with a lack of better options currently, she's going to try.

She starts small: change from someone's order while the customer and server are both distracted; a shirt, or coat, or some fresh underwear from a clothesline - never all from the one, never from the same street in Cadens at the same time; food from a market stall, an apple or loaf of bread. Her movements are measured, her pace is casual, and she's not strictly skilled yet but she's subtle, and better yet, fast. And so far, the locals have yet to catch her.

But there are some close calls; a stall owner yells at her retreating back and she vanishes into nothing as she walks through a beam of dirty sunlight, reappearing the next block over and very nearly crashes into someone. "Sorry, I was- sorry!"

Wildcard!

She's very quickly equipped with a new set of clothes, at least - she even manages to trade her old set of silks for a few coin - but no identifying mark as to her Arcana. And she's not stealing all the time, or she'd definitely get caught: instead she spends most of her time exploring. The museums are fascinating, in their way (but also much, much cooler than the uncomfortably oven-like outside. It's not hard for her to sneak into taverns, but for the most part they don't ask, just side-eye her as she sits at the bar like she belongs there. She's not so brazen that she'll try and steal weapons but whenever she has one hand free, she's idly twirling a pair of pebbles around each other as she watches the world with eyes far too sharp for such a young face.

Freedom

[the_archive]

Jon turns, stopping, and stares back into the desert, his narrow shoulders sinking. Too many one-way doors in this world. One-way decisions. And Martin a world away.

He shields his eyes - his own eyes - with his free hand as he looks back towards the city sprawled ahead of them. “Let’s find some shade,” he says tersely, forcing himself to start moving again. The limp is nearly gone, his knee moving more freely than before.

Jaskier | The Witcher | Sun (prompts to be added below)

[cointosser]

Closed to Geralt

[cointosser]

[Now with their freedom well lined up -- and having walked in freedom for enough hours that it feels real enough -- Jaskier knows the very first, most important act of freedom he means to indulge in.

A bath.

Yes, he could take baths in Thorne. It was different! They were baths, and they were lovely... and they were riddled with guilt. There were only so many times he could pull Geralt out of that cell all season to get him something more than a casual wash. Every time he stepped into the baths, it was a reminder that he was there, alone. And that he was vulnerable.

Having his friend imprisoned truly wore on him.

Well, all right. Sleep had been the first order of business once they'd made it through their first bottle of wine and Jaskier had gone down to the tavern to buy more. Yes, their coin was limited. It would not be for long, Jaskier was sure. Now he woke up to find Ciri still asleep and himself feeling as if he was still coated in an entire sheet of grime.

Bathtime.

Except, as he wakes from the place on the floor he's made his bed, a small crick in his neck from pillowing his head on his lute case, he notices someone is missing. There's only Ciri.

Oh no.

Jaskier stands, testing the door -- still locked -- and notes the moonlight catching the windowsill. Open. He crosses the room, sticking his head out the window to peek out across the eaves. There a shadow crouches, and moonlight catches the white of his hair. Jaskier fetches something from his case, then returns. Yes. A bit of fresh air sounds wonderful before a long, hot bath.

The bard steps out carefully onto the eave, the cool air of the night wrapping around him.] There you are. [He's quiet, taking a seat next to Geralt. He doesn't ask what he was doing; it's clear that after so long, Geralt must want a taste of the wilds again. Even if it's only a breeze in the night.

Oooh. A bit of the drink still hits him, and he wobbles before an arm around him catches him.

Jaskier pats said arm with a limp hand.] Not bad wine, was it? Shame I couldn't carry more.

[He holds out his hand with the item he brought with him wobbling across his palm: a dagger sheath, the hilt locked into it. Plain silver, but silver nonetheless.] Got a bit distracted with the drink. You're welcome.

Ciri | The Witcher | The Devil

[wiedzminka]

getting the lay of the land.

Cadens is a large city. Enormous, more like, with buildings of all shapes and sizes and styles crowding in on each other as much as the people. It will take time to familiarize herself with the whole place, but Ciri has been making a point of exploring a new area each day, working her way out from the rundown, though not unpleasant, little inn they've holed up in for the moment.

Each day, she finds a new direct and simply starts walking, winding her way through the city sometimes in the daytime and sometimes at night, though the streets are never really quiet. She mentally marks the locations of all the barracks, scattered throughout this city that seems to have as many soldiers as it does merchants, and alongside them houses of learning and historical record aplenty vying for space on the same blocks as smiths and drinking establishments and dance halls. Everything seems to be thrown together, the sort of semi-organized chaos that comes from so many hundreds of people from all manner of places and communities carving out niches for themselves while living in the same place.

a. [ Ciri has little trouble weaving through the crowds; she's quick on her feet, ducking around strangers, baskets and carts as needed without needing to slow down unless she wants to. She steps into shops and taverns on occasion, mostly to observe, though some days she has a little bit of coin to spare and sits down for a drink that may just be an excuse to sit and listen, keeping an ear out for opportunities and trying to get a better sense of what people are like in this place. Catch her eavesdropping or try to join her for a drink? Or maybe you've got an errand that needs running and have a few coins to spare yourself? ]

b. [ When she tires of avoiding people on the streets and sitting in crowded pubs, she climbs. The buildings are varied, made of different materials and to different heights, so it isn't difficult to find low-hanging eaves and slumped roofs that are easy to pull herself up onto. Smoke clouds the sky in some places, dark and unpleasant, hanging low over the chimneys even at night in the denser parts of the city. Further out toward the residential areas, things are clearer, and from the rooftops she can see the streets below and map them, judge the distance between the landmarks she's come to recognize that poke up over the horizon and the smog, certain spires or uniquely shaped buildings.

Maybe she's been caught climbing up onto a rooftop she's not welcome on, or maybe she's just jumped down too close to someone on the street. Maybe that someone is also just hanging out on the roof or even one of the higher towers, enjoying the breeze or the stars. It's a big place. There's ample opportunity for a chat. ]

market day.

The market is dense and packed with people as varied as the food and wares being hawked by voices clashing over one another in a familiar cacophony. The scent of food and drink carries on the breeze, interrupted occasionally by the less tempting smell of livestock or leather, other animal goods, spices and herbs. She doesn't have a lot of money, but she does have plenty of questions, stopping off at various booths to peruse their wares and ask what unfamiliar items are until she's shooed away as a nuisance when the stall owner realizes she has no intention of buying anything.

a. [ At some point, Ciri gives in to the seductive scent of baked goods nearby, drawn by the sweetness in the air. They seem to be fruit and cream-filled buns of some kind, and soft breads rolled in sugar and spices, all of smelling absolutely heavenly.

But considering the fact they're not even all that big, the price the seller is asking is, in her opinion, outrageous. ]

I could buy a whole loaf of bread for that much! [ Ciri protests, shocked at this injustice. ] Don't be such a greedy prick!

b. [ The market, dense as it is with people carrying all manner of goods and coin, seems to have plenty of one other familiar fixture, as well: pickpockets. Most of the ones Ciri spots on her tours of the city center are children or just barely grown, skinny little urchins with dirty noses and quick fingers. Occasionally, she catches sight of a more skilled thief relieving merchants of less-watched goods or rich folks of accoutrements they foolishly left hanging in plain sight on belts or bulging out of coat pockets.

With her purse safely tucked inside her shirt, she isn't really worried for her own coin; even if anyone attempted it, she's sure she's faster. And it's not her problem if other people aren't as careful with their belongings.

At least, not usually. It is a bit annoying when it happens right next to her, somehow.

Standing in a knot of people waiting for a large cart to cross the street, Ciri reaches out suddenly toward the person who happens to be standing right beside her. But instead of grabbing them, she actually reaches just behind, catching the wrist of the greasy-haired teenager boy who'd been attempting to make off with something. Whatever he'd taken, Ciri tugs it out of his hand, giving the bones in his wrist a squeeze when he resists, and eliciting a yelp and a curse before the boy scampers away, calling her very impolite things. ]

This yours?

[ She asks the person beside her, offering whatever has been liberated from the thief. ]

Wildcard!

Got something else in mind? Hit me up on Ciri's plotting comment here and we can chat!

b. bonding times.

[gynvael]

[ Logically, Geralt knows he can't stop Cirilla from going off on her own. Nor should he. She's a grown woman. Apparently has been trained by him, on top of that. She can more than take care of herself. Some part of him just can't shake the girl from the Horizon, the girl he'd searched for in Cintra. The girl who has disappeared on him, time and again, for reasons that feel too much like a failure on his part.

He's well aware it makes no fucking sense. Which is why he isn't doing anything about it, about the fact that Ciri is out of his sight, other than taking a trip through the city to continue figuring out what's out there. It's vast—far bigger than even Novigrad. A week or so here isn't enough for him to have gathered all of its nook and crannies. Places not ever marked on a map. The bits of work he's picked up has given him reason to go from place to place, at least: given the number of merchants and people, hauling wares has been the easiest thing he's found that pays. There's an underground system, he thinks, that he's considering getting into when there are fewer prying eyes.

Unlike Ciri, though, Geralt's not climbing anything—he's liable to draw suspicion as it is just by walking the streets alongside everyone else—but he is along one of the high sloping roads that run behind some of the inns and shops one level below. High enough that it puts him on eye level with their roofs. And the figure atop.

He stops. Of course she's up here. Where else would she be? ] Nice view?

Majima Goro | Yakuza / Ryu Ga Gotoku | The Hanged Man

[sunshinehan]

I. Life Lessons

[Arriving in the nearest city to where the portal spat them out, Majima quickly blended into the crowd by heading towards the sleaziest district he could find in the city. Where a prisoner from Thorne wouldn't warrant a second glance. Just another piece of riffraff on the streets.

He helped himself to an extra set of clothes (or rather was given them by an entrepreneuring little spitfire of a girl who had sticky fingers) and freshened up as best he could with what was available. He felt a little better once he could blend in a little more and walked the streets with confidence despite the unfamiliar city. Unfortunately, it wasn't quite as confident as perhaps he thought.

Or maybe these delinquents just thought he was a good target to show off their skills by beating on him. He looked like a tough customer who might have some coin on him but the joke was on them; he was a tough customer without any money on him whatsoever. Plus, they didn't stand a chance in a fight with him despite their numbers. Instead of raising their reputation by taking him down they merely ended up on the ground with their wallets a little lighter.]

And let that be a lesson to ya. [He said as he tossed a lightened coin pouch back to one of the moaning punks laying on the ground in pain.] Ain't always as easy to shake down a guy as ya might think. Get stronger before ya try again.

II. On the Road

[A few days in Cadens told him what he needed to know: it was a nice city but it was also home to the biggest names in what constituted the government here. And while it had some seedy places he felt close to home at, it wasn't where he saw himself spending his days here in this world.

He also found out enough about the other two major cities that he easily made a decision where to head once he gathered enough money and supplies for the trip. Libertas sounded like a place that was very familiar and where he could easily make a name for himself doing what he knew best. So he headed out with a caravan going in that direction one day and didn't look back.

This wasn't like traveling back home though where it only took a few hours to get to another city by car or train. It was going to take time to get where they were going and the trip wasn't nearly as comfortable either. The only plus side was he recognized a few others headed in the same direction (maybe even the same caravan as himself), and he could meet up with them once they all arrived in Libertas. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he hated the idea of being alone. He'd spent too much time like that before this world came along as it was.]

III. Petty Theft (or: It's a Gamble, Kids)

Think ya got what it takes to beat Majima "White Horse" Goro?

[The one-eyed man asked as he smirked confidentially at the person in front of him. He held a dart in one hand as if he were getting ready to throw it at a board but kept still as he issued his challenge. The board was behind him on the wall, two set of darts nearby waiting for use.

Majima had already made some easy cash this evening as he beat challenger after challenger. He let one out of so many contestants win just to keep the interest up and the cash flowing. He even bought a round of drinks for the bar with his winnings and that kept everyone happy and excited to watch him play some more games.

He was either about to swindle another poor sap out of their money with a game of darts, challenger's preference on game type (he didn't care, he could win at them all), or he had slyly asked one of the Horizon Walkers to play a game with him when he'd spotted them in the bar. He might be more "gentle" with someone he knew--or maybe not. Only one way to find out.

Join him for a game? Or watch him beat some more locals at it?]

IV. Wildcard

[[Anything else goes. Majima will be settling in Libertas once he gets there but he'll be in Cadens for a few days before leaving. He'll be frequenting bars and clubs in both cities so feel free to find him knocking back a drink at one if ya want. Or walking the city streets getting acquainted with the businesses, people, and society in general. Bashing heads together to defend himself from local punks and earn some cash. Trying to find a place to stay, work, etc. Honestly, anything goes and if you have something you'd like to discuss hit me here, with a PM, or at AisuYoukai. Come at me.]]