[ CLOSED ] here in this garden of bones

[gynvael]

Who: Geralt + Various
When: May
Where: Cadens; Horizon
What: Catch-all for May
Warnings: basic witcher canon stuff, adding as we go



(( starters below. discontinued or at Noa#1979 to plot. ))

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[princessvegas]

[ She reaches back into her bag and pulls out her hairbrush before she perches on the bed behind him. With her legs bracketing him, she unties the cord from his hair and begins brushing, her hand following behind each drag of the bristles. Her reflection in the bureau mirror shows a concentrated gaze as she gently pulls back the wisps and strands from the sides of his face and starts braiding them back along his scalp.

There's a quiet sort of efficiency as she goes, an exacting amount of pressure that's neither too much nor too little. She spent many nights as a girl doing the same for cousins and friends, or sitting on the floor in his position, having her own hair braided.

For a few moments, she's quiet as she works, braiding two rows backward from his temple, holding them in place with her third hand as she meticulously parts his hair for a thicker plait down the center. ]

Maybe this is what we should do next time some fucked up shit happens to us. [ It's light, more of a joke than anything. Abraxas is constantly on the brink of war -- there's no doubt that the Summoned will soon enough be pushed into some new political quagmire they didn't volunteer for. Having a nice vacation spot is at least a very minor comfort for them, and now they have constant access. ] Just come get drunk on fruity cocktails and splash around in the ocean for a while. Maybe that's the next thing the conclave can push for. Paid retreats in exchange for the bullshit.

[gynvael]

[ His hair's a little smoother, a bit easier to brush through, than it usually is; nights spent at home instead of roaming the desert means he's had more chances to wash it properly and, seeing as he doesn't purchase any bathing products of his own, nearly everything he uses comes from Jaskier. Who has exacting standards.

He laughs, quiet. ] We'll corner Sam about it.

[ Julie may have glimpsed him during that meeting for all of the thirty seconds it took to cast his vote for Sam. (He did not listen to Sam's speech. He's already heard many of them, and the only reason he might stop to hear yet another is to give Sam shit for it.) He'd left immediately afterwards and frankly hadn't had a fucking clue they'd requested a portal to Aquila until it was erected.

This will continue to be a theme. ]

Perhaps they'll grant us another voucher for a single gold. [ To compensate for all the trouble and torment, naturally. ]

[princessvegas]

[ She repeats the two smaller braids on the other side and then ties the remainder of his hair back in a low ponytail. When she's done, she wraps her arms around his shoulders from behind and kisses his temple. ]

Are you kiddin'? I bet Sam can sweet talk 'em up to two gold. And a free trip through the portal. [ Similarly, Julie had really only sat through the votes until they got to Sam, who she voted for and then left to get a drink. She was aware that there was some kind of proposal thing happening, but she hadn't cared enough to sit through it, and she's always antsy to get the hell out of Portam Hall ASAP whenever she's forced to go there.

With another kiss, intentionally a bit loud, she scoots off the bed and grabs the small purse she carries on her wrist. She takes out a pair of sunglasses and places them on the top of her head before she slips her sandals back on. ] C'mon baby, let's go find some lunch.

[gynvael]

Oh, two. That'll be generous.

[ He only moves when she's finished; unlike others who've had their hair tended to, Geralt neither touches it nor examines himself in the mirror to see how it looks. Julie is satisfied with it, and that's good enough for him.

His fingers trail over her wrist as she kisses him. A lifetime of caution has him securing the window before he follows her out the door, down the stairs. The ocean breeze is refreshing to walk through. The golden sand is soft rather than dry and dusty. Small holes dot the surface at intervals where clams burrow beneath.

Wherever she wants to dine or visit, that's where he'll go. Despite a seemingly inflexible disposition, Geralt's always been easy to drag about to places once someone's grown on him. ]

[princessvegas]

They don't want us to get spoiled.

[ She takes his hand as they walk down the stairs, doesn't let go until they find somewhere to eat. There is shrimp.

Later that night, on the beach with gentle waves of bioluminescent algae washing over her feet and her head on his shoulder, she will look up at the black sky, at the tiny pinpricks of the stars. Imagine that one of them is the world she came from, rotting and dead in all but name.

And she will be happy. ]