abraxaslogs | [ CLOSED ] just look across and see

[John is sorry too. That this is a shared experience, for them. War.

Technically, being a soldier, he had signed up for it. He cannot even say he had not known what he had been getting into at the time, for he had seen his first battle before he'd bought his commission, with Hal's regiment at Culloden. Hal had not let him fight, of course, but he had been young and foolish and thought he could capture himself a prisoner anyway -- and cost himself a broken arm and a regiment's worth stolen canon for his efforts.]

I expect William will do well enough on his own. Even so...

[He flashes the other man a smile as if to say he cannot help but worry, before offering something of a shrug.]

Have you anyone here with you, from your own home?

[ A son old enough to hold his own, then. He understands the sentiment. Despite knowing Ciri is no longer the young girl he remembers, he continues to worry about her.

Geralt weighs his answer. He doesn't often speak of Ciri, in part to protect her and in part because he seldom shares intimate details about his life. Something about John makes him decide otherwise. Perhaps he senses a rare earnestness in the man. ]

A friend or two. [ Or three, counting Istredd, though friend is not yet a term he's assigned to the mage. ] And a daughter.

[ He's fortunate, he knows. To have the people he does with him—not only Ciri but Jaskier, too. Yen, even if things between them were (are) complicated for...a long time. He left much behind, but he has a lot here, too. He won't deny how important that's been to him. ]

[Lord John's expression softens slightly, at that. At the vulnerability he knows that the other man is offering, in admitting both the existence of a daughter and her presence here in Abraxas.]

A daughter.

[He smiles, softly, inclining his head.] You understand better than most, then, my predicament. No doubt I would be just as worried for him if he were here as I find myself worrying now. It is only -- a different sort of trouble.

[Lord John takes in a breath, shaking his head before reaching for the decanter in front of him.] I do not suppose you have met Mrs. Fraser? Claire Fraser. [He turns, raising a glass of brandy he has poured out, a question written on his face as he does: Would you like some too?]

[ A different sort of trouble is right. Geralt is glad she's here. He can't imagine what he'd feel had he awoken with those memories of Ciri gone and couldn't go down the corridor to see her.

John, at least, seems to have left his son in a better position. ]

When they're yours, you never run out of ways to worry.

[ He's learnt that lesson thoroughly. He worries when she's here; he worries when she isn't. He tries his best to let her make her own way. She can look after herself, he knows. It's just. Complicated. When he's lost her so often and so recently. ]

No. [ In a few weeks, he will. But not yet. He inclines his head, accepting the offer, and reaches out for the glass. ] A friend?

Edited 2023-11-10 01:58 (UTC)

[John offers the other man a knowing smile at that first statement. No, you never do, do you?

He hands over the glass of brandy before turning to pour himself a second. It had been a wildshot, given the way this place works, but he had figured it was worth the shot nevertheless.]

She is. A very good friend. [Setting aside the decanter, he picks up his glass and turns back to the other man with the twist of his lips.] I have known both her and her husband for a very long time now. And -- she is here, of course. But she is...

[He taps his fingers against his glass, pressing his lips together tight for a moment, before positing:] You and your friends. Your daughter. Did you arrive here together?

[ Geralt's eyebrow lifts as John trails off. Is what? He chooses not to push the topic. There's evidently some complications he isn't privy to beyond this woman being a close friend.

He follows the shift in topic. ] Yes and no. She arrived several weeks after.

[ He does not mention that at the time, Geralt had no memory of her. Only a name—Cirilla—and a vague description. Ashen hair. Green eyes. He remembers her now. Despite the troubles and the painful recollections, he wouldn't trade them for anything. ]

I was one of the first they took.

[ And Thorne was a different experience for some back then. Himself included. Not many of them remain from that time. ]

[That is exactly the heart of what John is getting at, though. If in, perhaps, a somewhat roundabout method.

Geralt may not have shared much in the way of detail with him, but it is enough that John feels comfortable in continuing his train of thought. Swirling his drink in his glass, he elaborates:]

When I first arrived, Claire had been here for some time. I had thought it a relief, to have at least one familiar face here with me in this unfamiliar place — and it is.

[He offers the other man the flash of a gentle smile, though a wistful sadness tugs at the edges of it.]

But she barely knew me. There are over ten years of our shared experience that, as far as I understand it, she has yet to live.

[He glances back at the drink in his hands.]

I had wondered… Whether such a thing was commonplace, or if I just have exceedingly terrible luck.

[ The inexplicable gap in years. Now that he understands.

Geralt glances down at the drink in his hand. ] She was a girl. My daughter. That's how I last remember her. Here...she's a young woman.

[ Commonplace, perhaps not. The discrepancy tends to be much smaller, from what he's gathered. Weeks. Months. Not entire years.

But John is not alone, either, in his experience. Geralt happens to be on the other side of the fence. Absent of the years Ciri recalls. That she lived.

It'd taken a long time before Geralt spoke to her about those missing months and seasons. Now that he has his answers—he isn't sure what it changes. They're together here. She still sees him as family. Maybe that's all he needed to know, in the end. ]

[It is -- somewhat comforting, to know that he and Claire are not the only two here, separated by time and missing, well. The majority of their friendship, in truth. By all accounts, she should still be holding him at arm's length, and he isn't certain whether it's the absence of any other familiar face or his overfamiliar mannerisms with her that have worn her down. A part of him had wondered whether it had anything to do with Claire's claim to being a time traveler herself. It makes him feel a little better to know that that is not the case.

He is sorry to hear that Geralt has personal experience in the matter, however.

Taking in a deep breath, John glances back up to the other man.]

I am glad you have found each other again here, much as Claire and I have done. Even if -- it is not the same. I think I can speak for us all in saying that it is better than the alternative.

[He offers Geralt the twist of a smile before raising his glass to him in something of a toast:] To friendships, new and old.

[ The real coincidence is that Ciri, too, has an unusual connection to time and space. Unbeknownst to John, Geralt made a similar assumption before he realized others may have experienced similar. These days, he realizes most of the shit that happens is a result of the Singularity's unstable power.

Still. John is right. They've made their own memories here. It isn't the same, but he knows his days would be enormously different were Ciri not here with him. Or any of them.

A pause, before he tips his glass towards John in return. ] To friendships.

[ CLOSED ] just look across and see

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forgive me for the delay, i needed to get back in the groove

<3

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wrap?