abraxaslogs | [ CLOSED ] though my feet my rest

Huh? Oh — yeah, yeah, the mask thing.

[ Rocket's paws had automatically gone up to feel at his snout, but now he lets them drop back to his sides. He could probably say the same thing about Geralt too — at the time it'd all been a bit of a whirlwind, all of them decked out in elaborate costume, surrounded by fey and magic and all manner of weirdness, but now they're just their regular selves. It could almost be like meeting for the first time — and maybe in a way it is. After all, their first interaction had been more ... ah, chaotic. ]

Sorry for intruding. [ Truthfully, he doesn't sound all that sorry. What he does sound like is someone in awe. This is admittedly his first Horizons visit, and it's a hell of a lot more than he expected.

Plus ... snow.

When as the last time he'd visited a planet with actual snow on it? ] I was curious.

[ Masking hadn't done much to hide Geralt; outside of his costume, he retains the same gold eyes and white hair. He appears distinctly more at home now that he's free of the fancy clothes.

A shrug greets the non-apology. He's grown used to folk coming into his yard. If he doesn't want to speak to them, he simply doesn't answer any knocks at the door. But Rocket is apparently Nero's (impromptu?) friend, and he finds him...intriguing. ]

Explore as you wish. [ He eyes Rocket for a moment, then makes his way to his horse.

Does Roach need to be brushed in the Horizon? Not at all, but that's what he's doing. He'd created her before he obtained his horse in the real world. Now there are two Roaches, which he tries not to reflect too deeply upon. It makes his head hurt. ]

You look like a creature I'd find wandering the woods here. But you're clearly something more.

[ Honestly, those stuffy costumes were a little difficult to wear, and they felt kind of ridiculous too. Too much swishy fabric. A lot of showing off while remaining hidden. It's a weird kind of contradiction, and either way, he's glad to be free of it too. So, yeah. Rocket can relate.

As Geralt heads over towards his horse, Rocket ... idly follows, trailing behind while trying his best to be a little more attentive, and a little less nosy. (And they say he doesn't have manners!) ]

Yeah. [ He speaks slowly, crossing his arms as he watches the large human tend to his horse for a moment. ] Yeah, I'm somethin' more.

[ He could elaborate, sure, but doing so means facing all kinds of nasty, ugly things he'd really rather not. So he gestures to this place at large.

They can start with the easy stuff first. ]

So, you made all this up?

[ Reluctance to address the topic says enough. Geralt leaves it be. ]

In a manner of speaking. [ He indicates the fortress that looms behind them. Pieces of the stone are broken, and there are scorch marks in other places. It doesn't look neglected—there are clear efforts to repair and restore—just...damaged. By time and something else. ]

I grew up here. Seemed fitting, so I recreated it.

[ Nothing about the area derives from his imagination. Only memory—down to the notched pillars and half-buried skeletons. Kaer Morhen is home. It's one of the few places he returns to, that's a stable fixture in his life of wandering. He'd felt the same urge as all of them to make something. This had been the first thing to come to mind. ]

[ Rocket notes the broken stone and the traces of scorch marks as he follows where Geralt points to. ]

You wanted it to look like a giant asteroid came and crash-landed into your house? I mean, sure, if you needed a mind-project to work on things ...

[ It isn't perfect, it isn't the 'ideal version' of what he thinks someone's castle should be, but for that alone, Rocket has to give it to the guy. He's pretty sure in this place you can just ... imagine it perfect again. ]

[ A what? Geralt squints at Rocket briefly. Perhaps it's not important. ]

I don't recall it whole. Been this way since I was a boy.

[ Does that imply he grew up in a shithole castle that's perpetually in ruin? Yes. It's not the worst. One becomes used to the chill and the rats. A century has passed since he last saw Kaer Morhen intact and he'd spent most of the first couple years prior to that locked in a cellar, so.

Never had a chance to examine much of the architecture before then.

It wouldn't feel right made perfect, anyhow. That's not what his home ever was.

Regardless, since Rocket appears to be staying and they're talking: ] Come inside. It's marginally less frosty.

Well, it's ... somethin'.

[ It takes him a moment to get the word out, but he does make an effort to be at least marginally polite.

He isn't even sure what for, maybe for Nero's sake, or for the way Geralt probably saved the group of 'em from getting kicked out of the Vermilion Court completely. It wouldn't be the first time he'd been dragged by the scruff out of a place, or chased off a planet, or booted out of a bar or two. But he knows it would have been bad, and Geralt's got a little bit of that whole Steve vibe, so he'll try. ]

Weird that we can feel the cold in a made-up place. But yeah — lead the way.

[ He waits, at once expectant and patient, for Rocket to complete his thought. ]

You can say it's shit. [ There's a touch of amusement. Geralt picks up his sword, then starts up the sloping yard. The snow is crisp, the sun bright. In truth, he isn't certain how it manifests. Most of it isn't wholly conscious for him, though he recognizes his experience in the Horizon has always been...troubled.

Maybe he has too many fucking decades of memories to contend with.

The heavy wood doors open into a sprawling hall. The tables are several, but they sit empty of bodies. A blazing fire roars by a tree pierced through with heavy silver medallions that match his own. Snow drifts through cracks in the ceiling. The place mostly speaks for itself, and he allows it. He doesn't seek to hide much from those who know where to look. There are just things he'd prefer not to say out loud.

The mug he offers Rocket is filled with a potent liquor. Geralt sets his blade beside him on the table before settling on the bench. ]

You found a new home quickly with Nero. [ As far as he knows, they haven't invited anyone in after Thor left—until Rocket. ]

Edited 2023-08-18 23:09 (UTC)

[ Equally amused, Rocket shrugs a shoulder, like, 'yeah, well, you said it' and picks up the pace to follow the longer strides of his host.

When they step into the empty hall, it looks a little like something from Thor's old home, the place they'd time-traveled back to before it (like so many other planets and homes) had been utterly destroyed. It's large and looming and there's a weight to the structure of this place, but most of all it feels too big and too empty. Even without the cracks in the ceiling, letting the slow drift of snow through, it's kinda cold. But the fire and the heavy timber tables make up for it a bit.

He climbs up onto one of the benches on all fours, a reminder that despite all of his adopted mannerisms, he's still ultimately more animal than people, and settles opposite to Geralt. He accepts the mug with a grateful little nod. ]

Yeah. [ He lifts the mug to sniff. It smells strong, and very very real.

Huh.

He takes an experimental sip. ] Wanda's from the same place I'm from. [ Well. Kinda mostly. ] And she offered me a place to stay. Nero was part of the package deal, I guess. He seems like he's got a lot going on.

[ And they certainly didn't get along at first.

But now — ]

Mm. [ Neither confirmation nor denial. Nero has got a lot going on, though the boy appears to have made something of a home for himself. Perhaps that's all they can ask for.

His eyebrow lifts at the mention of Wanda. One, because he...doesn't get along isn't accurate, but the last time they spoke—months ago—he sensed she wasn't entirely comfortable in his presence. A familiar thing; there are more than a handful of people he makes uneasy by existing. Her upsetting Ciri had not helped matters. Despite their mutual connections, he seldom engages with her.

But also because if Rocket knows Wanda, he must know the others. ]

You're familiar with Sam Wilson. [ There's faint surprise in that statement. Has Sam ever mentioned a talking wolverine? He doesn't think so. ] Didn't realize you shared the same sphere.

Heard of the guy, sure.

[ And in a few days time, he'll also meet the guy too — and in true gremlin fashion, it'll be a riot.

But for now Rocket looks thoughtful, as though assessing how much he can speak to how he does and doesn't know much about Sam Wilson before it becomes too freakin' complicated. ]

We were all kinda busy back in the universe we share, some of us more than others on account of half the universe being turned to dust. [ He still hates thinking about it, even now. It still feels too fresh. ] I dunno if you've run across Captain America or Black Widow, and if you have, I dunno how much they've told you, but I spent some time on their Earth. Sam wasn't there but I heard some stories.

[ He wipes at his snout with a sleeve now, gesturing to his drink. ]

This is good. How is it good?

[ You know, considering this is all made-up-ish? ]

[ A faint wrinkle mars his brow. Geralt has come across Captain America (Americas?) and Black Widow, but he hasn't quite untangled why there are two of the former and who currently holds the title. He knows Steve Rogers is Sam's friend and that both are inexplicably attached to their shields, though Steve—apparently—cannot fly. As for Natasha, she's only ever introduced herself by name.

He is aware Sam vanished for five or so years. The details elude him, not because Sam has not shared, but because Geralt hasn't found it necessary to pry. So Rocket's explanation receives a vague lift of his hand. ] Sam's spoken of it here and there.

[ As for the liquor— ]

Objects seem to take on the properties of their creator. [ He remembers the distinct flavour of a bottle of White Gull. Anyone who partakes will experience what he recalls. That's the principle that appears to hold firm in this nebulous space. ] When I'm given food I've never encountered, it tastes as they know it.

[ Which happens more often than one might think. Introducing him to the wonders of off-world meals—the majority of which tastes odd and synthetic—is a favourite pastime of several of his acquaintances and one which Geralt invariably indulges. He's been handed everything from hotdogs to liquid cheese. ]

Edited 2023-09-13 21:29 (UTC)

Well, it ain't a secret so if you got any questions about it ... I was there for all five of those frickin' years.

[ It's not anger directed at Geralt by any means, but a need to add the prickles to something that clearly had a whole lot of effect on Rocket over those years. Arguably it was some of the worst years of his already relatively short life; but it'd taught him the harsh lesson of what it means to be grateful for the friends that you've got.

He hasn't taken advantage of that lesson since. ]

Huh. [ He takes another sip of the liquor. ] Well, keep serving the good stuff, I might need to copy this over on my side of things.

[ His Horizon is currently a flat, empty plain but he might have to stock a fridge of this stuff. ]

[ Has he got questions? He does. He's had them ever since he admitted to Sam that there were several years between him and Ciri, a girl he remembers as not more than sixteen and is now a grown woman, and Sam had responded with I know how that feels. But it feels too much like digging to ask another now when he explicitly chose not to with Sam. Especially when Rocket sounds less than enthused about the subject himself.

So he lets the moment pass with a tip of his head that says he heard the offer and has decided to leave matters be.

There are simpler topics to address. ]

And what's your side of things?

[ What, precisely, would someone such as Rocket create? People, he can often predict, but Rocket is...not anything he can place, and he finds himself—for once—unable to fill in the blanks. ]

[ Honestly, the lack of questions about the Blip suit Rocket just fine. He figures the door's open on that if Geralt ever does have a question to ask, but for now he's happy enough to talk about other things. Like this alcohol, for example.

And, yeah sure, the barebones scraps of his Horizon space. ]

Right now? Eh. [ He shrugs lightly, wiping at his nose. ] A buncha flat land and maybe a floor-board and a joystick.

And I'm considering replacing the joystick.

[ This explains nothing, Rocket. Sorry, Geralt. ]

[ That. Explains less than nothing. Folk have shown him a lot of shit, but no one's thought to demonstrate the wonders of video games.

Probably because it would be of no interest to him. ]

I don't know what that is.

[ Though if he were to see one, he might recognize it, if only because he's stepped inside Amos' ship before—a hunk of metal full of buttons and switches, floating in a black abyss. Truth be known, he found it disconcerting. The strange vacuum, the enclosed walkways. The way everything echoed oddly off the hulls.

Some things he'll never understand, and being surrounded by nothing but steel is one of them. ]

Yeah, looking at all this Earth-stuff, stone and ground and snow ... I ain't surprised.

[ And if only he were talking about video games, though at the moment the joystick in place does feel a little more like something for a simulated game than anything that could rely fly a ship anywhere.

He isn't even sure how Horizon ships are supposed to work — or whether they can. He's building something with the hopes that he can fly it but magic's all brand new to him and he's still learning. ]

It's uh ... like a steering wheel for a ship, only less actual wheel but the direction stuff's all the same. And in this case, it'll steer a ship that's supposed to move around in space. I could show you — hold on, I can make stuff in this part of the Horizon too, can't I?

[ Stone and ground, is it? Geralt raises an eyebrow. ] You sound like the men who spend their lives at sea.

[ Space is, frankly, one of those concepts Geralt's been made aware of and does not expend effort trying to understand. He knows there are those who travel through it, and that it functions as a method of travelling from one sphere to another. Something scholars of the Continent have theorized, but is of little use in practical terms.

For the most part, he just accepts what he's told. Why give himself a headache he doesn't need? Life grants those plenty as it is.

At Rocket's question, Geralt lifts his hand and indicates outward. Sure. Rocket can make what he likes, and Geralt is curious enough to want to see. ]

Well, it's space, but yeah. It ain't land.

[ #helpful

Nevertheless, it's with that nonsensical, he-has-no-idea-how-it-works-but-it-works magic the Summoned are all full of that allows Rocket to create the object in question.

The spaceship joystick kind of appears on the top of the table they'd been sharing their drinks over, looking less like anything that could be used for a video game, and far more like something that could steer a vehicle. But the rest of the gist is there: a moveable stick that can rotate in all directions, with a special little button on top for acceleration or detonating some kind of defensive — if needed. ]

There you go. [ And this creating stuff outta nothing thing is still so freakin' cool. ] The idea is that this thing gets hooked up to the rest of it.

[ There's something to be said about the fact that Rocket considers both sea and land as all land. He supposes once you reach the stars, it's difficult not to see each planet on a much smaller scale.

He takes the joystick, turning it over in his hands. Between tinkering on the car alongside Dean and the motorbike gifted to him, the wires and buttons that make up the device aren't as foreign to him as they might've once been. It's still different, though. Most steering instruments he's seen are wheels. What's most curious is that Rocket has started with just the steering device. It reminds him of how he'd begun his cabin with only a pile of logs and an axe. There's only one reason for that he can think of. ]

You built your ships on your world, too?

[ Otherwise, why not imagine the ship whole? Rocket must know what components fit where to create it piecemeal.

After a moment, he offers the joystick back to Rocket. ]

When our spheres collided, those who survived the landing became trapped in a single realm. I suspect they'd have given anything for a ship that took them home.

Nah, not the same way I can in this place. I — uh, fixed up some ships, made 'em better, but it's kinda hard always being on the run, and parts aren't easy to come by to build a whole new ship.

[ They take a lot of thieving without getting caught, Quill usually had a way to get a brand new-ish ship (and those ships weren't bad), and they didn't end up having a whole lot of downtime anyway. Saving the universe, it turns out, is kind of a full-time gig.

Go figure. ]

But it's something I've always wanted to do, and I dunno why I'm telling you this. [ He takes the joystick back, and sets it back down so he can resume finishing his drink.

He hums. ] I guess the thing about having a ship means you can fly away from someplace, or fly to someplace. [ He downs the last of his drink and slaps the mug back down on the table. ] Options.

You ever thought about leaving your home if you could? Maybe fly off somewhere else?

[ On the run, hmm? From what feels like a natural question, but Geralt keeps it to himself for now. With one as Rocket, it could be many reasons.

His expression turns thoughtful. He tilts his head. ] I did. When I was a boy. But I never imagined flying off the sphere. Leaving home meant crossing into the next kingdom.

[ There are those who don't set a one foot past their village gate. It's a lot more effort to achieve when your options are to walk for weeks or saddle up a horse if you're lucky enough to own one. Venturing into another world was so beyond the realm of possibility, it never crossed his mind even in a childish fantasy. To him back then, to most of the Continent still, there were no spheres to go to. They were supposed to have shattered during the Conjunction.

Now he's here. Off-world in a way he never expected. ]

Oh, yeah? Anywhere cool?

[ After seeing the looks of this place, Rocket's curious now. What does the rest of Geralt's world look like? Do kingdoms ever change the way they look, and now that he's thinking about it, he actually isn't sure he's familiar with what the hell a kingdom even is. All he can imagine is the Sovereign. ]

Yeah, about that — you really never leave your planet, huh? Guess I still gotta get used to the idea that people just ... stay on their one planet their whole lives.

[ No. They don't. The only other memory he has of leaving the sphere involved a dead world full of scorched red sand and dust thicker than the storms in Cadens. ]

I prefer staying on land.

[ Hell, he's never even crossed the two seas to reach the southern continents. There wasn't a reason to.

He pauses, tilting his head. To Rocket? He has to wonder if the swathe of trees and lakes are of any note for one who hops from planet to planet. ]

I imagined castles. Cities filled with people. I didn't see much beyond our cabin until I was... [ He searches for a word not so charged as abandoned. ] Brought to Kaer Morhen. Here.

Was it a shock? Seeing all that new stuff. And then coming to this place, Abraxas I mean, and hearing about all these other worlds, other lands.

[ 'Cause to him ... well, it's still kind of surprising; it's almost even humbling in a way, to know that even with access to a spaceship and the manipulation of time, this Abraxas place and every last stinkin' planet all of the rest of the Summoned come from could still be beyond his reach.

Most of these places he'd never even heard of. Hell, being in this snow-covered stone-walled hall is impressive. It ain't a place he'd want to live on, but it's still worth the visit. ]

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gynvael - 2023-10-20 03:32 (UTC) - Expand

wrapped! 🎀

respiting - 2023-10-22 04:41 (UTC) - Expand