abraxaslogs | [ CLOSED ] here in this garden of bones

[ Had they both been human, the force of the collision would have shattered a few bones. As it is, the crunch bruises, but nothing breaks. ]

Fuck off.

[ It's good-natured as Geralt gets back up. He circles the demon as thunder distorts their surroundings. The interior takes on a dark, purplish glow. The air hums, electric.

Geralt's good at learning on his feet, though, and fast. One lesson is all he needs to start reading the creature's intentions: the rear of the horse's hooves before it charges, the distance it puts between them as it draws on its magic. He dodges the time-slowing bubble when it spawns again, using the steed's height to slide between its legs. The tip of his sword flips upwards, piercing the horse's belly and splitting it open. Thick black entrails splash.

He wastes no time rising to his feet, spinning around and swinging his sword as he does. The knight's head slices clean off, rolling to a stop by the panther's paws.

(He doesn't feel good. Or unburdened. But he does feel better—that rush which always comes in the aftermath of a fight.) ]

[He already knows no's the answer. Or -- as Nero grins back at it -- fuck off. He's startin' to really get Geralt's full vocabulary over here. Though considering about 25 percent of it is some variation of "fuck," it's not too hard to learn.

Nero retakes his seat like nothing's happened, propping one foot on the other knee as he leans in. One hit's gotta be enough for him, right? Either that, or he's gonna be helping Geralt nurse some lightning burns.

He doesn't worry. It's enough watching Geralt work. It's cool. There's no fucking around. No playing. Just him determining what is the most efficient. It's not Nero's way, but he can acknowledge it looks pretty badass from the outside. It's not the first time he's seen it, but he feels like... yeah, maybe if he watches it enough, he can pick some stuff up.

He makes a gory mess of things and comes out of it hot and stinking of demon blood, but he won. Handily, too.

Shadow bats the head away, tail swinging.

Nero holds out a fist.] Pretty sick, old man.

[ Let it be said that Nero specifically inspires at least ten percent more fucks out of him than the average person. (He means this with fondness, or inasmuch as Geralt feels fondness for Nero. Which, admittedly, is not a small amount. Though he will not say it out loud.)

He doesn't bother flicking the gore stuck to his hair or skin as he makes his way to Nero, leaning down to pat the big cat on the head as he does. Unlike house cats, she seems to tolerate him. Or perhaps Nero simply isn't aware of a cat's dislike of Witchers to imbue her with the same trait.

The outstretched fist receives a look. He pauses. What the fuck is he meant to do with this gesture? (Possibly, he may have witnessed Sam doing it at some point. Vaguely.) After another second, he just. Pats Nero on the shoulder and moves past him to sit down. ]

What was that creature? Another demon of yours?

[He has to give it to Geralt; he's the only guy who would approach the panther and give her a scratch like she was a housecat (especially after she tried to shank Thancred. Sorry, buddy.) She doesn't seem to mind him -- or maybe it's 'cause Nero hardly minds Geralt at all, not coming into his domain or killin' his demons. That's the fun of it.

Still too bad, though. Nero would get a kick out of hunting with him in the Free Cities. Maybe if Solvunn ever stops being so insular, but... it ain't just their problem.]

Hey, you're gonna leave me hangin'? [Or -- you know, it strikes him Geralt's weird as hell and old, maybe he's a bit out of touch. Wouldn't surprise him. (The pat on his shoulder feels good, though.) He catches up by his side, holding his fist out. And then he grabs Geralt's hand, bumping their knuckles together.]

Of mine? I don't make 'em, I just kill 'em. [He takes a sit next to the Witcher, and pauses. Huh. It occurs to him --] I guess I know who made it. Just one more demon who couldn't hold up on the path to world domination, or whatever.

[ Hanging where? Geralt frowns, just in time for Nero to grab his hand and rather sort of. Brush theirs together. Hm.

He won't question it.

A turn of phrase, really—but his expression grows intrigued as Nero clarifies. ] They're created? By who—other demons?

[ Similar to Lucifer? He supposes it shouldn't surprise him there are similarities across realms. The demons on the Continent are much different. Not quite demons; more unknown entities from unknown realms, labeled in mismatched terms. It is still not clear what Voleth Meir truly is beyond being part of the Hunt. But what is the Wild Hunt?

They may never know. The mysteries of the Continent are impossible to uncover from entire spheres away. Truthfully, he's glad to leave all that behind. This world carries its share of troubles, but...he can admit, he feels far less alone facing them here. ]

[Hey, the Witcher lets him do it, and that's good enough for Nero.

He settles back, stretching his legs out in front of him, pulling Red Queen from his back to drive her into the ground. He probably shouldn't have said anything. If there's one thing that raises his hackles high, it's anything having to do with his -- with Vergil. And all the thoughts he has about him that Nero has no idea how to process. How to deal with any of that.

But it's just a fact.] This one was tryin' to be a king. Like most of the big ones try to be, I guess. Called himself Urizen. [Nero shrugs.] Most of them just sort of crawl out of the Underworld. The big bads can make their own henchman. Thus thunderhead over there. [Well, the fallen corpse is already sort of dissolving into demon blood and seeping into the ground - just like home.] I mean, you never really wonder who made your monsters, right? It's enough to know there's no end to them.

[ It doesn't occur to him he's touched a delicate subject until Nero doesn't answer immediately. Geralt studies the boy. There's something Nero isn't saying about this Urizen. He decides now isn't the time to ask, but he tucks the name away. ]

Humans made some of ours. Mages. [ He doesn't wonder, no. He knows. ] Others fell through during the Conjunction from other realms.

[ Perhaps in their world, they aren't deemed monsters. Perhaps they roamed the land freely as the bears and the wolves do here. Beasts who would not be a danger to anyone if they had not collided with a land occupied by too many humans. What defines a monster so easily shifts with the winds.

For a moment, he adds nothing more. Watches the body of the demon steadily dissolve, the stalking feline lick its paws. He had not come here to slay an imaginary monster. Not exactly. ]

Come by the mountains some time. I'd wager the wolf might like your cat.

Seriously? [Mages, huh. People like Wanda -- well, like Wanda, but totally not like Wanda, 'cause he gets the feeling most mages aren't anything like her. (Hopefully.) He doesn't know what a Conjunction is, but if they "fell" from other spheres -- probably crossed some kind of dimension or something. Why not? Underworld's pretty much the same way.

Learning about other people's homes is fucking weird.]

Weird.

[Not sure what else to say about it. Nero doesn't put that much thought into it. Monster's a monster. Maybe it's simpler with demons, but Geralt doesn't strike him as someone who's living with a bunch of moral dilemmas.

Nero perks up, looking at him. Huh. Nero can't help but be surprised by the invitation -- but that's cool. That's cool. He laughs.] Yeah, you think so? Don't get on me if they tear each other up. She's kind of bitchy. [Or maybe all panthers are like that?] You'll see me soon.

[ CLOSED ] here in this garden of bones

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we can wrap up here!