ABRAXAS MODS (
abraxasmods) wrote in
abraxaslogs2021-08-28 09:41 pm
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
Entry tags:
- !event,
- !npc,
- alina starkov; the hanged man,
- amos burton; the lovers,
- cirilla of cintra; the devil,
- coraline finch; the tower,
- estinien wyrmblood; the hermit,
- geralt of rivia; the hanged man,
- gideon nav; strength,
- hector; the magician,
- himeka sui; the fool,
- jaskier; the sun,
- jon sims; the high priestess,
- jon snow; the emperor,
- kiryu kazuma; the tower,
- sam wilson; justice
WELCOME TO THE FREE CITIES!
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.
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.
no subject
He turns to face the not-human, folding his hands on the bar.] But very well. It's as I said. You have access to the Horizon, I don't, and I want someone around who can tell me what is happening in Solvunn and Thorne.
[Louis wants to keep his finger on the pulse of what all three factions are doing, because that's the only way to anticipate what they might do to respond to the rogue wildcards that have been introduced into their conflict. Spying is the wrong word, but if he can't access the Horizon, then he'll have someone on the payroll who can. For a given definition of payroll, that is.]
I never ask anything for free. I'm sure we can work something out.
no subject
I'm not for hire. Not for that. [ His tone suggests this is not the first time he's had to tell someone coin will not get everything—not even most things—out of him. It strikes him, though, the deer hasn't asked to be taken into the Horizon. That he presumes his access isn't possible.
Geralt studies him for a moment. It isn't information he cares to withhold. The deer will find out one way or another, and who steps into the Horizon has no bearing on him. Damn place is already crowded; what's one more? ]
Entering only requires a connection with someone already tethered.
no subject
But his brow does arch in surprise.]
That's all?
[His brow smooths again. Okay. This is less complicated than he thought.]
Are you for hire to connect me, then?
no subject
Last time we were pulled in, we lost ourselves. Didn't get out for two, three weeks. [ Will it happen again? Who knows. He's only heard that it's possible to connect another; he's never done it with anyone. He's been hesitant with Ciri, even if he knows he should at some point, but so much shit went on in the Horizon during his first trip, it's. Complicated.
Either way. He could ask for money. Or a deal. The thought crosses his mind, but somehow, he isn't certain he wants to make any kind of arrangement right now. Not with him. So he doesn't answer, yet, about exactly what he's willing to do. ]
no subject
You 'lost yourselves'? [That does make him pause as he narrows his eyes, leaning back thoughtfully.] What does that mean?
[And, he almost wants to ask, is anyone still lost. But one question at a time. It wouldn't hurt to get all the info he needs.]
no subject
[ Just a feeling. A lingering. It'd have been one thing if they were truly blank slates. They weren't. There were remnants; pieces. He can't say if it was the same for everyone else, but at least for him, the whole thing left him too fucking raw. They hadn't been there long, but it feels as though he lived a whole damn life in there. A life that isn't his, will never be his, but now lingers in the edges of his mind.
Something other people had seen. People he's largely avoided.
Maybe that'll change, now that the Horizon is populated with others. If the deer is set on entering, perhaps knowing minimizes the risk. The damage. He doesn't care either way; he's telling, but not necessarily warning. ]
no subject
Has anyone lost their memories permanently?
[Because that would be a step too far for him. Seeing who he is without memories--yes, he thinks he can endure that. Not the worst he's ever had to deal with. But losing everything he is?]
no subject
Not that I'm aware. [ Hm. One more thing to keep an eye out for. He thinks it over for awhile. These are not dealings he makes. He kills monsters for money. That's it. He also realizes he isn't home, that the world here is different. That there is room, maybe, for someone largely detached from those around them beyond how much coin is on the table. It isn't necessarily the sort of person he trusts. But it is the sort of person he understands.
Besides. He's hesitated on whether or not to take Cirilla in. He hasn't been certain what the effects would be, how it might go, now that they're outside of Thorne's influence. Thorne had been steeped in the Singularity's magic; the Cities are pulling away from it. He wouldn't experiment with just anyone to test it, but, mm. The deer doesn't provoke much by way of concern or protective instincts from Geralt. So. Seems like a good time to find out. ]
I'll take you. In exchange for a bottle. [ He doesn't care what kind; if it's liquor, it's good enough. ] You're on your own inside. I'll watch your body in this world until sundown. No more, no less.
no subject
He's not so sure he likes how cheaply the not-human is offering his services, and how suddenly he seems to have come around to the idea. He especially doesn't like the idea of being watched over by a stranger when he's incapacitated. But who else is there? It's not like there's anyone he trusts around here. The only people who he would have trusted to watch over him are dead or in another world.
But also... he has to consider the benefit of having a hub of communication he can contact from anywhere in this world. More information, more resources, more understanding of the greater world around him. That's worth the risk, isn't it?
He folds his hands on the bar, leaning his elbow against it as he looks at the not-human intently.]
Very well. Then I have two questions: is it dangerous inside, and how would you recommend I prepare?
[He's guessing he won't be able to take a weapon in there.]
no subject
It lands in his favour. ]
Only inasmuch as you make it. [ His time there had been quiet, though he wasn't oblivious to the rumblings of territorial spats now and again. That was when they were all there, at the same time. Doubtful it's the case now. Should be all right, as long as the deer doesn't go looking to start anything. And if he does, that isn't Geralt's problem.
As for the other question: ] Word has it you need only make physical contact with me. Less of a crowd than here would be preferable.
no subject
Very well. Then let us do it in my apartment.
[Louis doesn't like the idea of inviting a stranger into his temporary home, but he doesn't have any valuables to steal at this point after he's only been in the city for a short while. Plus, if the man holds his end of the bargain, Louis will be safest if he's incapacitated behind his own locked door.
He finishes off his drink, shaking himself out gently.]
no subject
Geralt gets up to follow the deer out the door. The city's crowded, the sun casting a hazy glow on the ground. He isn't unused to the crowd, but he isn't fond of it, either. People pressing up against him constantly is not his idea of a good time. He walks just a step behind, eyeing the district as it changes, as they move from one place to another.
In the time it takes to reach the rented rooms, Geralt's said not much more than a couple of words—if he's said anything at all—though he'll offer his name if the deer chooses to exchange his own first. Once they're at the door he waits, without comment, to be let inside. ]
no subject
Louis does offer his name after a fashion, and accepts Geralt's in turn. Otherwise, he doesn't try to strike up conversation. As they walk together, the smell of blood on Louis gets stronger. It's coming from him, but if he's injured, he's masterfully hiding it. Once he's at the door, he unlocks it carefully. If Geralt is paying close attention, he'll notice a strand of red deer hair falls to the ground from the latch as Louis unlocks it. He's rigged his own alert system, just in case someone breaks in when he's not there.
Inside, the apartment is small and minimalist. Barely a studio, but kept in as pristine condition a tenant can keep an apartment. No pictures, no art, nothing to give a hint as to the personality of the person there besides the tight hospital corners of his made bed and a Japanese-style low table with cushions on the ground. The only thing on the table is one cup and an electric tea kettle.]
Take off your shoes, [Louis says as invitation as he takes off his own shoes. As he does, he has to brace himself against the wall, his right leg twisting oddly. The cause is made clear fast as his shoe slips off, revealing a metal 'foot' underneath and flashing the start of a prosthetic leg at the ankle. It may explain why there's the smell of blood coming from just below his knee.
He pulls socks over his flesh foot and his prosthetic foot, refusing to acknowledge the prosthetic before walking to the low table, sitting down at a cushion and gesturing for Geralt to join him.]
no subject
His gaze flicks towards the strand of hair, then the room itself. It's foreign in its layout and decor—at least to his eyes—and there's a quirk to his eyebrow when Louis tells him to remove his boots. He takes them off, since it makes no difference to him. And, like he's suspected: he does find out. About the blood. It's curious, but it isn't the missing foot that's caught his attention. Or. It has, it's obviously worth noting, but frankly limbs can go missing here and there for any number of reasons. What's truly caught his eye is that the deer does not possess hooves. In fact, much of Louis is more human than not. If they'd been on the Continent, he'd have considered him a cursed man, but Louis seems so unaffected by his appearance Geralt can't help wondering what's behind it. If that's simply how people in his sphere exist—like a sylvan might with their horns and goat-like ears. Perhaps Louis is a faun. A different type, and more deer than goat, but one nonetheless.
Interesting.
Geralt moves inside. He's neither made himself at home nor is he ill at ease—someone who's used to entering strangers' homes on uncertain terms. He moves the cushion aside, folding his legs under him on the flat ground instead. It's just what he's used to kneeling on. If Louis is keen to observe, he'll notice that Geralt has distinctly positioned his back both away from the door and any windows. ]
When I'm in, you'll know. A touch should do. [ He pauses. What else? ] You may need concentration of your own. That part's for you to find out. And don't interrupt.
[ As in: if Louis has any further questions, he should ask them now. ]
no subject
The fact that Geralt sits so his back faces a wall doesn't escape Louis' notice, but he can hardly blame the not-human. Louis would do the same if he were coming to a stranger's house.]
What do you mean, I may need concentration? On what?
[Considering he's injured and his poorly fitted temporary prosthetic has been irritating his leg all day, he holds himself with a lot of poise.]
no subject
Still, Geralt learned from a young age. Frankly, he hasn't any concept of how hard it is for someone to attempt for the first time, without practice or experience. So far, he's noticed a few have entered the Horizon who he wouldn't expect to -- even Jaskier's made it in -- which suggests it isn't that hard. Maybe the natural connection they already have helps. ]
How skilled are deer at meditation?
no subject
[Louis is confident in his ability to learn anything if he wants it enough. It wouldn't be the first time an essential skill presented itself that he'd never even touched before, and he just fought tooth and nail to gain it. He's had to do it with reading, writing, even just speaking or walking.
Not all deer can say that. In fact, most can't. Most people can't say that. But he can.]
no subject
[ That part, Louis is on his own for. It's less learning, more doing, because the only wisdom about the process Geralt can impart is stop thinking about so fucking much. Which seems to have helped Alucard, mildly, so who knows. Maybe it is worth something.
He appears to be done taking questions, in any case. His eyes fall shut. Entering takes not long for him; there's a thread, a path, one he still isn't entirely sure what it means. It leads him in. He lands where he always does: at the front of his domain, the snow crunching beneath his boots. His appearance is virtually unchanged, save for the silver wolf head medallion that now hangs around his neck.
Being here has never felt comfortable. It's a necessity, not a place to relax. He plans on leaving as soon as Louis is in -- who he looks for now, waiting patiently for the deer to appear. Time to find out if this even works as intended. ]
no subject
And then it's like plunging into deep, dark water.
What comes out in the Horizon doesn't have a distinct form at first. It's like smoke, trying to pull itself together into something. First it's death with antlers, it's head a fanged deer skull. Then that image melts away again, replaced by a small faun with terribly wide eyes and a knife clutched in its hands, all the different venison cuts marked in dotted lines across his skin.
And then that image melts away too, the smoke coming together and finally relaxing into form. It settles into the flickering image of a deer in silhouetted watercolor, only his eyes distinct. He has two legs, his right leg somehow glowing with hints of bluish gray mixed up in the purples of his image.
Despite having no distinct symbol on him, he radiates Death arcana.]
Oh.
[That's all he says at first, looking at Geralt without any recognition, but without any alarm or malice either.]
Are you a wolf?
[It's asked almost impassively. For someone who just appeared without any memories, he seems pretty at ease.]
no subject
He eyes Louis. That’s. Unexpected. All the colour. It says something, probably, something Geralt might piece together another time when he has a mind to.
He blinks. ] I’m missing some pieces if I were.
[ A distinct lack of a tall for one. He glances across the Horizon. Hm. Seems about right—memories gone, no other ill effects. If Louis meets others, he imagines they’ll help him out. Geralt, for his part, had promised he’d keep an eye on the deer’s corporeal form. Once Louis is off, he’s going back. ]
Do as you like here. You should have no trouble making your way.
no subject
[He glances away. Rather than being disoriented or frightened by his complete lack of context, he seems... curious more than anything.]
You're right. I don't think I will have trouble.
[He takes a few steps away, picking a direction and going to it, but pauses just long enough to turn around and cock his head at the person.]
I feel like I should thank you for something. So thank you, if my intuition is right.
no subject
It’s only what they call me.
[ No further clarification comes beyond that. Geralt simply nods at the thank you—watches the strange multicoloured deer wander off. He does hope, in all honesty, that Louis will find the Horizon a more pleasant experience than he had.
When he returns—really returns, to the room in the city—he checks the windows and doors, once. Then he waits. Geralt said until sundown, so he’s making good on that. He finds a seat where he can keep an eye on entrance. Every so often, his attention returns to Louis, curious if he’ll return all on his own or if Geralt will need to shake him out of it before he loses two full weeks like they had. ]
no subject
The smell of blood fades now that Louis isn't walking on his temporary prosthetic. He hadn't thought to hide his foot before going under, so it glints in the light. It's polished wood and metal that may look familiar from Thorne's style of engineering, a temporary stopgap and apology for taking his actual prosthetic away in transit from home to here.
Occasionally, his ears twitch, flapping from side to side. Without the imperious, stern expression he usually wears, he looks young. Young enough to still be in school, even, though it can be hard to tell what's just his face and what is a reliable tell of his age. The flapping ears could almost be described as cute by someone who didn't mind their head being bitten off.
As the sun sets, Louis still hasn't woken up, and he shows no signs that he will.]
no subject
Dull work, keeping watch, but he's used to it. At least nothing's likely to spring up and try to eat him in here.
The sun sinks. He gives it another hour or so, just to see if Louis will come out of it on his own. But the deer's heart is still steady, his breathing unchanged. Geralt reaches out, giving Louis first a tap, and—if there's still no sign of stirring—a shake of the shoulder. ]
no subject
He is sleeping like the dead, right up until the tap. Deer are prey animals, and no amount of exhaustion will ever make Louis unresponsive if a potential predator touches him in his sleep. Louis is up like a shot, grabbing Geralt's wrist instinctively to push it away, his heartbeat racing and his nostrils flared.
There's a flash of recognition in Louis' eyes, his grip releasing as he remembers where he is (which is probably a good thing, because even when he's panicked, his grip is pretty weak).] I'm... awake.
[And disoriented. But before he gets his bearings, there's a low growling noise. His head snaps to look at the source, and where there once was empty space, there's now a semi-transparent lion and a wolf sitting on either side of his door. The lion's tail whips back and forth, his eyes square on Geralt. The wolf is on his feet, hackles up and lips curled back to reveal a snarl.
Both of them look strange. The lion has a pair of square glasses perched on its nose, somehow staying perfectly in place, and a trail of Japanese characters down his front leg and his stomach. The wolf is almost the size of the lion, much bigger than a wolf should be, and he has three scratch marks scarring one brow.
Even with his fur, it's clear that Louis has gone pale.]
I... am awake, right?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)