Geralt z Rivii (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gynvael) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
abraxaslogs2023-09-01 08:16 pm
gynvael) wrote in abraxaslogs2023-09-01 08:16 pm
Entry tags:
- alucard; the hierophant,
- cirilla of cintra; the devil,
- clive rosfield; the tower,
- geralt of rivia; the hanged man,
- himeka sui; the fool,
- istredd; the high priestess,
- jaskier; the sun,
- julie lawry; the wheel of fortune,
- lord john grey; justice,
- sam wilson; justice,
- yennefer of vengerberg; the chariot
[ CLOSED ] just look across and see
Who: Geralt + Various
When: September
Where: Cadens, Nocwich, Horizon
What: September catch-all
Warnings: Standard Witcher canon; season 3 spoilers. nsfw marked.
(( starters below. plot with me ![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
discontinued. ))
When: September
Where: Cadens, Nocwich, Horizon
What: September catch-all
Warnings: Standard Witcher canon; season 3 spoilers. nsfw marked.
no subject
It did. [ Geralt sets down his waterskin. An iridescent beetle scales the curve. ] Not only memories. It came with something more.
[ His scars are negligible—nothing like what he's earned from a thick set of claws. His gait is not affected. But out of everyone, he knows Sam will notice that physically, he is just different enough. It's not unheard of. Yennefer lost her magic. Jaskier acquired the small scars on his fingers. Dean received the Mark. The Singularity touches each of them in ways they cannot prevent, and he's only the latest in a long line.
He sits back, uncertain. Where does he start? Despite the silence, he wants to tell Sam more. Sam is easy to talk to in a way that few are, and this has been a weight on his chest since the night he awoke with a blinding pain that ran up his leg and through his hip. ]
Have you thought about it? What you'd do if you could no longer fly?
[ Not merely being without his wings, but beyond that. Where the possibility is no longer there. ]
no subject
when geralt does speak, sam's gaze turns back to him like it never left - his curiosity and growing sense of worry tucked back away as he simply lets himself listen. watch. take it in. geralt has always been that sort of person, as sam's found it; while he'll speak his mind and always be truthful, the larger story is generally hidden back somewhere in the body language. somewhere between the lines.
not only memories is what has sam frowning at the implications. of what geralt could mean. he thinks about all the things he's noticed, the slight favoring of the leg, the quiet weight that hangs from geralt's shoulders. sam sits back up, brow furrowing. ] That's why you were slower today.
[ sam thinks about rhodey, about the soldiers who used to come to his sessions. he knows what old wounds look like, knows how a lift can shift once chronic pain is introduced. it doesn't matter if it's minimal or all-consuming, and his stomach churns with it, at the idea that something could have happened to geralt over the span of a single night with no warning at all.
the question, though, has sam's thought process shifting, his expression immediately thoughtful. ]
Once, yeah. There was a time there I'd pretty much accepted the fact I'd never fly again. [ it feels like an entirely different life, he feels like an entirely different person. the sam before steve rogers is both the same man he is today, and someone he doesn't know if he'd even recognize anymore, somehow at the same time. ] It was... hard. I mean, shit, of course it was hard, but it also felt a bit like I was waiting for something. A change, new direction, whatever; and I had no idea what I was looking for until I found it, which is tough when you're used to knowing exactly where it is you're headed for most of your life.
no subject
Sam answers and Geralt watches the impossibly flat landscape stretch beyond the horizon. The wind blows hot and dry, dusting sand over his hair. What is he looking for in Sam's reply? He isn't sure. Nothing in particular, he thinks. Maybe he simply wants to hear someone else understand what he felt during those weeks. Geralt's never considered himself a soldier, but he and Sam are alike in more than a few ways. Building their lives around a singular path. It isn't only about being a Witcher. It's that being a Witcher is what he needs to be to protect his family.
He doesn't know who he is without either of those things. ]
I've had my brushes with death. [ More than he can count. The first decade or two on the Path is a test for any Witcher. ] Either we get back on our feet, or we take our last breath. I never imagined I'd face living while...
[ While what? Eternally on his fucking back? The dryads had saved his life, but at the time, a part of him couldn't fathom what of that life remaining could be worth preserving. He's not ungrateful for their efforts. He wouldn't be here without them. But there are limits to magic and limits to a Witcher's healing, and none have tested it to the degree that he did.
He draws in a sharp breath. Sometimes, it's a little too easy to talk to Sam, but he doesn't stop himself. ] Jaskier stayed with me for those months. He asked the healers one day if they thought I'd walk again, and I recall thinking I didn't want to hear the answer.
no subject
sam's watched too many soldiers lose their lives to it. to never quite being able to get back to normal, to the haunted reminder of what they'll never have again. he doesn't know, necessarily, if that is something he needs to worry about with geralt - but he recognizes the look. the weight. he has a feeling that there isn't any particular point to this discussion, either - but instead it's a kind of unloading. of giving words to thoughts he's been rolling over and over.
and so sam listens, nods, stretches his shoulder a bit as the wind brushes sand over their legs. his clothes are linen, breathable but protective, and part of him feels like he's been right here in another life (perhaps there's something to say about what deserts bring out of sam wilson's life, but this isn't really the time to be thinking about that, is it?)
i've had my brushes with dead geralt starts, but then follows up with we get back on our feet, or we take our last breath. sam can feel himself frown before he really means to. ] Sounds lonely. [ and it's in no way meant to interrupt. he knows he's coming from a place of privilege, knowing that nearly every time he's ever been up against the wall, that when he's been up against the worst of the worst, he's always had someone at his back. and he's guessing...god, does he really think he has a chance guessing the kind of shit geralt went through? but even so, still, he's guessing the reason he got there, the reason geralt's here at all, is because someone else found him. someone else got him to where he needed to be.
part of him wonders if it was jaskier, wonders if that's why there is a weight to even jaskier's shoulders now, but then geralt continues and oh. sam nods, knowing how that feels, sitting to the side while someone who shouldn't have even survived heals. he's been there for both outcomes, with riley who never got to the hospital bed, and steve who didn't have anyone else there to sit.
sam pauses for a moment or so, because yeah, he can sympathize with that. with not wanting to know, with not knowing what to make of either answer. when he does finally speak, his voice is...it's not light, exactly, but it's not heavy either. casual, curious. ] What happened? I mean- how'd it heal? Did your body finally catch up or...?
[ because geralt has been speaking in past tense, and he's doing a little more than walking, here. but sam's also not entirely sure how these dreams even work, either. would the singularity bring that through, too? or is geralt here i abraxas now, knowing he isn't walking back in whatever hellscape his 'continent' has left for him? ]
no subject
[ Healed and whole and yet not. He suddenly isn't sure what to say. It feels like confessing to something that has already passed, that isn't a worry any longer. So why the fuck is it still lurking in the corners of his mind? He hates being trapped in the past. As though he can't move on. These memories—they always leave him unmoored.
It's his wounds, but it's Jaskier, too. And Ciri and Yennefer, and the pieces that don't fit now that he's woken up in Abraxas with something that isn't quite his future nor his past. He's satisfied with what he's built here. He's satisfied here with his family, and each time the Continent comes surging back, he can't help but wonder, when will he reach the very last memory? What would that mean?
He shakes his head. After a minute, he reaches for his waterskin again. ] I don't know why I'm telling you.
[ Perhaps he just needed to tell someone. A part of him invariably feels he should have a purpose for what he says. A reason for bringing this shit up to Sam. But the truth is, he doesn't. It's simply been sitting on his chest like a weight.
Still is. He's tired of it. ]
no subject
healing is never really whole, he's come to find. it's just about relearning how to be as close to who you are in the aftermath. sam can't help but think about rhodey, and that new normal. it isn't the same situation at all, but it does at least give sam some kind of groundwork to work from.
geralt is silent for another few moments, and sam lets the silence linger. he doesn't know if there's more the other wants to say, or if he's just processing for himself, and sam is fine to wait. he takes another drink from his waterskin, rolls over in his head what that must feel like - to go to sleep and awake with dreams like memories, to feel like your body has changed throughout it all. geralt's had this happen a couple of times now that sam's noticed, and yet for all the time sam's been here...
the I don't know why I'm telling you brings his attention back, and sam can't quite help the small smile that tugs at his mouth. ] Maybe it's 'cause friends usually talk to each other. And I'm a great listener. [ said only with a small amount of teasing, before sam shrugs, settles back into a tone a bit more serious. ]
It's got to feel a bit...out of body, right? Having memories of something like that happening and then waking up back here.
no subject
This is different. This has evolved into a hindrance, and that's the one thing he never wants to be.
He scoffs a little, tossing a look back at Sam. Yes, well. They are friends, he won't deny that. Sam is simply a different sort of friend. He can't explain it, in all honesty. All he knows is that it feels easier to tell Sam things he's hesitated to raise with even Jaskier. It isn't a question of trust. He trusts Jaskier like he trusts no one else. But Jaskier was there by his side. He remembers Jaskier's distress throughout the ordeal, and he doesn't wish to remind his friend of those days. ]
The first time. Yes. Now... [ Geralt shrugs a shoulder, returning his gaze to the dusty landscape below. ] It feels like I carried it here. The wounds and the—
[ The grief. For once, Geralt seems to struggle with what he means to say next. ]
When they found me, I didn't know. Whether Ciri was alive. Or Yennefer or anybody. There was no news. And for the first time, I could do fuck all about it.
no subject
but this also isn't about him. it's about geralt, and how geralt has spent his entire life believing he would never have to worry about this. that it was alive and in top form or dead. and sam gets it, he does, which is why he is letting geralt work his way through it too.
the scoff and the look pull a grin from sam - wide and unapologetic. oh, he knows that. which is kind of the reason he can joke about it - knowing that while geralt has his own relationships, his own people he's held close for far longer than sam's even known him, this (them) is something else.
I didn't know geralt says, and sam nods. nods again when geralt mentions how he couldn't do anything about it. there are more technical terms sam would pull into this - about how geralt has to accept his powerlessness in order for his processing to actually be complete - but that's also not what this is about. ]
Sounds terrifying, to be honest - being helpless like that. Unable to protect your people, or to help yourself. You still feel like that?
no subject
Sam doesn't make him feel like he has to have an answer for how he feels or what to do next because sometimes, he just doesn't fucking know. He realized that when he returned from Thorne's grasp and spent those weeks in Sam's home. That something was...different about being around Sam, despite having known him for little more than, what. A handful of months?
Maybe that's why he keeps coming back.
The question should be a loaded one. To Geralt's surprise, it isn't. He shakes his head. ] I know what needs to be done.
[ Not that he wavered before. It's only that now he understands it with total clarity. And whilst Ciri's safety remains on his mind—that'll never change—he's no longer afraid that he will. Not the way he used to be, a fear that clung to him with an icy grip. He just knows that he'll find her again. It doesn't matter how many times or what armies stand in his way. ]
no subject
and sam knows that is probably, or perhaps exactly, why he's here now. he asks the question without expecting an answer. or, rather, without expecting any specific answer - geralt could simply go silent and that would be fine, could tell him that it didn't matter, could change the subject. sam has worked hard to cultivate that feeling; to not expect, but to encourage, if that is what they want.
geralt shakes his head and sam continues to watch him, to see if there's anything he can read in geralt's expression. it doesn't cease to amaze him, how he knows how much geralt can be thinking about, or feeling, at any given moment - and how after these years they've known each other, sam still has trouble reading all of it. some, he can see. some, he can guess. but he's usually better at it than this. ]
But you're still carrying the pain. [ sam takes a leap with that one, but he says it all the same. not a question, but also not quite a statement either. ]
no subject
Maybe being here with Sam in the first place is his version of trying. ]
I carry a lot of things.
[ What might sound like a deflection is more of an admission. He cannot recall a moment when he wasn't shouldering...everything. What happened on Thanedd is merely another stone in the bucket.
Sam is right. He is still carrying the pain. He's also carrying the weeks he spent beneath that island shithole. How much it reminded him of being—back there, during the Grasses, with the impossible fevers that gripped him and the dying dropping like flies. The fact is, he threw himself into looking after Ciri until he physically couldn't. Dean's death, then subsequent reappearance, occupied his attention further—and deep down, a part of him was grateful for it. Days became weeks became months. The greater the distance, the easier it was to avoid reflecting.
But none of it has faded. He needn't dig deep to find it all waiting beneath the surface. ]
no subject
still, he does think this is better than where they were before. the fact geralt is bringing any of this up at all does not pass sam by. but some of the worst parts of all this, some of the hardest things that sam's ever had to learn to live with, is that sometimes that's all you can do. there is no grand gesture, no secret sauce, no perfect set of words that ever makes any of this suddenly okay. trauma doesn't work that way, and sam doesn't expect it to work that way across different universes either.
but talking about it does help, as frustrating as it might also feel, and sam can't help the small smile he wears when he drinks the rest of his water from his waterskin and tosses it over towards geralt. ]
Well; when you figure out how to share, we both know I could do with some more weight training.
[ it's a joke, yes, but layered with truth too. something that sam doesn't question whether geralt knows. that sam is here, that sam will always be there to help, and that he knows it's not always that simple.
he pushes to his feet and stretches out the cooled-down muscles in his legs and back before he takes the few steps over to where geralt's settled and holds out a hand - pulling geralt to his feet when he takes it. ]
Until then, we've gotta carry ourselves back down this mountain before the sun gets too high. I'm not gonna be out here when the worst of the heat hits. I refuse.