righteously: (Default)
ᴛʜᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛᴇᴏᴜs ᴍᴀɴ ( ᴊᴇɴɴɪғᴇʀ ᴀɴᴋʟᴇs ) ([personal profile] righteously) wrote in [community profile] abraxaslogs2023-05-20 02:32 pm

Tʜᴇʀᴇ's ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ ᴀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛᴀᴄʜᴇ ᴛᴏɴɪɢʜᴛ

Who: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Jo Harvelle, Castiel, Ciri, Geralt, Jaskier, Sam Wilson, probably others that I'm forgetting
When: Last week and a half of May
Where: Cadens, the bad lands, and the Winchester-Harvelle house
What: Demon Dean triggers his master plan to snatch Ciri and take her to the singularity to portal him off-world. The gang catches up and things get violent before Dean is eventually subdued and cured.
Warnings: Demons trying to be as demonic as possible, with all the gross violence and mean language that entails. Also, needles.

𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑦 𝑖𝑠 𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑎 ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒
𝐵𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ
𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑦 𝑖𝑠 𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑒
𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛' 𝑤𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑑𝑜
𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑦
𝐼𝑓 𝑖𝑡 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡
𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒
𝑀𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡
𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑎 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡
𝐴 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤
𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑎 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡
𝐴 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤
𝐿𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤
gynvael: (057)

[personal profile] gynvael 2023-05-22 02:19 am (UTC)(link)
[ Even before he learned Ciri went missing, Geralt had begun tracking Dean down. Killing is what he does, but tracking is how he gets the killing done; you can't be good at one without the other. The portals help him scour Aquila, then Libertas. He does not know where Dean is, but he at least confirms that Dean is not there. In either of those places.

He's returned to Cadens by the time he hears from Sam, then Ciri. By the time he he realizes.

It is something that he even weighs alerting anyone else that Dean is here, somewhere near in the Free Cities. He is not interested in Dean's friends putting his daughter at risk, for the sake of their friend. But Jaskier's words ring. And if something were to happen to Geralt, he needs others warned. They understand a creature from their world in ways he does not. He takes the chance—nothing will matter if Ciri isn't safe. Vengeance is not the goal. Nor is putting down a monster. His priority is to save Ciri. What happens to the demon through the course of that is irrelevant.

A description and a trail to follow are all he needs. The wastelands are as familiar as the back of his hand. He cuts through a pass, hooves pounding across the dusty sand. The sun scorches from above—leather and metal blistering to the touch. Maybe Dean sees him, maybe he doesn't. Geralt doesn't hesitate either way, loosing an arrow from his crossbow that arcs not at Dean, but at Dean's horse—the most vulnerable target.

Whether or not it strikes its mark, Geralt spins Roach, galloping straight across Dean's path, sword in his other hand. ]
gynvael: (308)

[personal profile] gynvael 2023-05-22 03:06 pm (UTC)(link)
[ As the horse stumbles, Geralt cannot tell if Ciri is conscious. She's out of reach, the demon blocking his path. He's hoping she can free herself while Dean is distracted, or take Roach and flee (except, he knows she will not leave him)—but one way or another, he means to take Dean's attention away from her.

His eyes narrow. Why her? She's alive, which means the demon must want her for a purpose. To lure him out? Her abilities? To trade to Thorne?

Perhaps. He's here regardless. And as Lucifer learned, Geralt does not waste his breath trading barbs when he's locked in a fight.

He steps to the left, waiting for an opening. Watching to see if any trace of his friend remains. It doesn't seem so. He can smell it—the acrid burning, the sulphuric notes beneath. He's been warned Dean likely cannot die, which is a complication he will figure out later. Incapacitating him will be enough. ]


What do you want?
wiedzminka: (eighty-seven.)

[personal profile] wiedzminka 2023-05-23 04:03 am (UTC)(link)
[ It's the lurch and scream of the horse beneath her that jolts Ciri roughly back to consciousness. She is exhausted, dehydrated and hungry, aching, dizzy-- but awake.

Whatever scraps of energy left to draw on, she finds; adrenaline spiking, Ciri acts on raw instinct first, before she is aware even of what caused the sudden drop as the horse tips sharply forward and the only thing on her mind is don't get crushed. It's muscle memory. She's rolled off a horse many times, though usually not trussed up the way she is now, ropes tight around her wrists and ankles.

Something else flares up inside her, too, something that happens before she can realize it, without time to notice or dwell on it yet. Ciri lands in the dirt, her cry muffled in the gag around her mouth. But with the wave of fresh pain comes something else: renewed, sudden strength where there'd been none left in her limbs before, a boost in addition to the simple spark of adrenaline. The mare, snorting and struggling to right herself, crumples to both knees, and then lies down.

With her blindfold askew from the fall, slipped halfway off her face, Ciri blinks through the dust and the watering of her eyes as she squirms onto her knees. The world rushes into focus.

She sees Geralt. ]
Edited 2023-05-23 04:05 (UTC)
gynvael: (007)

[personal profile] gynvael 2023-05-23 04:09 am (UTC)(link)
[ His eyes flick from sword to demon. He isn't watching Ciri, but he can hear her—the shift of her heartbeat, the light shuffle of sand beneath her knees. Whether Dean can, he isn't certain. He understands better than to call out to her.

But he gathers one thing: Voleth Meir had been an entity of her own, invading Ciri's body. She had not fought how Ciri was trained to fight. Dean, though, appears to be doing exactly that. Something to take note of, because it makes Dean's movements a touch more predictable. He did teach him.

For another minute, Geralt is still. A buzzard screeches above. He drops the crossbow to free his hand. Maybe where Ciri can reach, with luck. Roach shuffles; his second sword sits in her saddle, along with his hunting knife. Things he knows Ciri is well aware of. He trusts she will take advantage where she can—that she remembers every lesson he gave her. He can't worry about how or why, what he could have done differently.

When he finally strikes, it's not with a swing from his sword. Instead, a blast of Aard kicks up the sand in a thick spray. He's aiming to send Dean flying away, moving the fight by inches from where Ciri and Roach are—but if the dust can blind the demon, too, he'll take it. ]
wiedzminka: (eighty-six.)

[personal profile] wiedzminka 2023-05-23 05:08 am (UTC)(link)
[ His eyes are fixed on Dean, but Ciri's are on Geralt. The way his shifts his weight and weapon, the slightest turn of his shoulders away from her before he raises a hand. She recognizes the Sign before he even finishes casting it. And the opportunity he's opening for her.

Ciri moves, using her bound hands to rock up from her knees to the balls of her feet, and then propelling herself toward Roach. If Dean hadn't been so cocky and overconfident, he might have tied her down to Karen, or even bound her arms in a way that wouldn't let her use her hands so easily. Despite the graceless landing, practically crashing into Roach's side, Ciri manages to wrap both hands around the hilt of Geralt's second sword; the way Roach snorts in surprise and shuffles away actually helps her get the blade out faster.

From there, it's only a matter of seconds. A quick downward thrust of her arms to either side of the sword slices clean through the ropes, allowing her to cut her feet free next. It's not great for the blade, but she's hardly going to be fussy about these things right now; Geralt will just have to forgive her for being sloppy with his sword as Ciri leans on the hilt like a cane to haul herself up to her stiff and half-asleep legs.

Her free hand yanks the blindfold the rest of the way off. The gag's tied too tightly, so it is momentarily ignored. Instead, she lurches forward to grab Roach's reins before she spooks any more. ]
gynvael: (qi: 001)

[personal profile] gynvael 2023-05-27 04:11 pm (UTC)(link)
[ As the demon slides across the dirt, Geralt presses forward, leaving both horse and Ciri further behind. It's the first time he's seen Dean's wings since they revealed themselves half-moulted months ago. Ragged, but not skeletal as they are now.

At least he needn't worry about flying demons.

He ducks the first swing, then the second, before parrying the third. Dean moves startlingly fast—a preternatural speed—but Geralt isn't holding back, either. The aim of sparring was to teach. The aim of this is to walk away in one piece. And though he doesn't know if it's true Dean can survive even his head being taken off, he can see Dean heal instantaneously. What remnant of hesitation he might've had about drawing too much blood vanishes with the scratches.

When the final blow falls, Geralt spins on his back foot. Their blades interlock. He shoves hard, twisting his grip and jerking the blade upwards to slice through flesh. His eyes are sharp, never moving off his target.

But it's hard for his full attention to be on Dean when Ciri remains in the picture, when he can hear her scrambling in the dirt. ]
gynvael: (039)

[personal profile] gynvael 2023-05-27 06:34 pm (UTC)(link)
[ In the split second he's diverted (by the lack of blood, by the lack of any fucking reaction to being struck), he catches an elbow to the face. Dean receives the solid crunch he's waiting for. A trickle of blood drips toward the edge of his lip. His ears ring. For a blink, the sun shines too bright.

He steps back to create the distance he needs to whirl around. The momentum drives the arc of his sword; he lets it carry through into the next few swings. Landing a hit will do, but his true purpose is to disarm—the first rule of any fight involving weapons. Especially one with a demon who doesn't seem to feel much, if anything, at all. Had he the time, he might've sought Castiel or someone out for the requisite holy water. But once Ciri called for help, Geralt took off in an instant.

The terrain is flat, at least: hard dirt beneath their feet, tiny loose pebbles that skitter across the ground. Geralt isn't wearing anything except the lightweight cloth Jesper gave him, meant for projectiles and not for slicing blades. In the heat of the desert, armour isn't much of an advantage. He prefers to rely on his reflexes than his ability to take a blow. And he is fast, but he's not powered by a non-living entity. The longer the fight drags on, he knows the more he'll feel it—that there's an upturned hourglass to every battle he's in. ]
gynvael: (qi: 006)

[personal profile] gynvael 2023-05-28 06:23 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Geralt realizes precisely when Dean does, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. It's the first Sign he'd taught him, the first Sign where he'd really learned what would and would not work for Dean to grasp control of Chaos.

Hard to say what is more unexpected: that the demon attempted to use it on instinct (hasn't it got abilities of it's own?) or that it failed to cast.

It would be simpler, he thinks, if the demon carried no traces of the man it's occupying. But he can't let the thought seep in; they've crossed swords and Geralt knows there's only one way this will end.

He lets Dean break off. There's a time and place for pressing the attack. Instead, he waits: patient, watching to see how Dean will pivot next. Maybe to reorient his footing, too. His grip is firm on his sword. Dean may find him predictable, but Geralt hasn't got the same advantage—facing something familiar and yet wholly new. ]
gynvael: (161)

[personal profile] gynvael 2023-05-29 05:22 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Rage is good. Rage sometimes means carelessness. Geralt isn't the sort to go out of his way to anger in a fight, but he's more than willing to use it.

His sword flips to his left hand, deflecting the incoming steel. A shove drives them backwards against a rocky overhang. It leaves him open—he's fast enough to react to a dagger drawn, but Dean's knife isn't drawn. It flickers into being from thin air. The jagged teeth catch on flesh as it tears through. On instinct, he wraps his fingers around Dean's wrist. His nails are sharp. Maybe some catch as the demon yanks the knife out. Blood flows warm, sticky, between leather and linen.

The sharp flare between his ribs dulls as a rush floods through him. His eyes seep black. Inky, matching the demon. Darkened veins trail down his cheekbones. It's different, almost startling—all his senses opening up further. Familiar, and yet he's not felt it in months, years. Not since he set foot in this sphere.

He shouldn't answer. For a second, he doesn't. He does feel responsible. He feels responsible for a lot of things, for a lot of reasons. He's why the demon knows as much as he does about Ciri. A decision Geralt does not regret—he needed to trust Dean then, and Dean as he knew him did not betray his trust—but still a decision he made. But his entire life has been blood on his hands. For things he did, for things he refused to do. If there's something he learned young, across the decades, it's that if you will not choose the price you're ready to pay, the world will choose for you twice over. ]


It doesn't matter what I feel.

[ He kicks, aiming to slam his foot against Dean's knee—searching for that same crunch and snap of bone. ]
Edited 2023-05-29 18:14 (UTC)
gynvael: (167)

[personal profile] gynvael 2023-05-29 09:39 pm (UTC)(link)
[ His gaze snaps to the sizzle, then at Dean's face. What—? The small part of his brain still engaged in real thought tells him it's the corrosive substance in his claws and to move on. So he does, pressing the advantage as the demon crumples on his bad leg.

Good to know broken bones will do something despite Dean's continued lack of pain. Unlike before, Geralt is moving as though his wounds don't hurt, either. They bleed as expected, dripping down his side, his leg where the blade catches—though the pump of his heart is slow, keeps the gashes from spilling blood as quickly. Maybe he's starting to limp a touch, too. But his responses seem to be physical. Things his body can't help doing when injured.

Geralt's attention is elsewhere. Fixed on his target. He could hear the birds before, but now he can pinpoint each one from a distance. The grains of sand shifting under his feet. It's nearly overwhelming; he has not taken his elixirs for ages, and normally, he prepares for it. Fuck if he knows how or why it triggered, but right now, he hasn't the time to dwell.

Instead, he tries to close the space before Dean can get too far and recover. He flips his sword over his wrist, slashing downward at the same time he throws out another Aard blast. There's a strength behind it that wasn't there the first time. If more blood drips on Dean, it might burn even hotter, like he's bleeding poison directly from his veins.

A low snarl rumbles in his chest. The demon's refusal—or inability—to put on even a facsimile of emotion, of still being Dean somewhere deep down, only makes it easier to separate the face he's looking at from the man he came close to calling a brother. Perhaps he should have stopped him sooner. Or perhaps he would have merely called forth the demon sooner by putting an end to Dean. Whatever the branching paths, the monster he faces is not the one he owes an explanation to.

(Poor, poor Witchers. You truly feel everything.) ]
gynvael: (ml: 022)

[personal profile] gynvael 2023-05-30 12:59 am (UTC)(link)
[ The second scorching smear of blood catches his attention more thoroughly. That, the smell of something human beneath, trickling.

He moves to pin the demon against the wall rising behind them. His blade is in his hand to drive it through or take a head off at the shoulders. Then he falters, abrupt. If not for the distinct smell of human blood, he might not have stopped. But in combination with Dean's sudden shift in expression, he can't help hesitating.

(I came back here. I thought you could help me.)

It doesn't last long. He knows better, knows not to let himself fall into this sort of trap. Even were anything to remain, it is not enough to stay his hand after everything. Not when Ciri needs him. But it's still a second where he doesn't follow through with his next strike, and a second where Dean has room to retaliate. ]
gynvael: (304)

[personal profile] gynvael 2023-05-30 02:10 am (UTC)(link)
[ Even the smallest mistakes are costly.

Geralt catches the demon straight to the chest. He rolls with the momentum, skidding across rough dirt and rocky ground. Dust showers the air. He wraps one leg over to try and flip himself on top. Dean has that jagged knife; the edge isn't sharp—to say the least—but it needn't be sharp to kill in Dean's hands, and he's mindful that for all the damage he can take, he still has a beating heart to preserve.

True: his sword is optimal with some distance, but Geralt's learned to adapt when he hunts everything from wyverns to wraiths with it. And a weapon is a weapon.

He grasps the blade of the sword with his other hand, slamming the pommel down—or upwards, if he's trapped beneath—towards Dean's face. ]
gynvael: (052)

[personal profile] gynvael 2023-05-30 03:08 am (UTC)(link)
[ Deep down, some part of him wants to be able to pull back. To find an out, one that brings his friend back whole and rewinds all this shit that's happened.

He knows that time passed long ago. Perhaps longer than any of them could comprehend—months back when Dean first appeared with the Mark on his arm. They'll never know. There was never an opportunity to find out.

He doesn't hesitate again. Once was all the lesson he needed. The instant he has his chance, he forces Dean onto his back and pins him down. ]


(( sliding them on this way ))