[ CLOSED ] death is no man, death is no wraith

[gynvael]

Who: Geralt + Various
When: October, pre-event
Where: Cadens
What: October catch-all
Warnings: Standard Witcher canon


(( starters below. plot with me discontinued. ))

Comments

— ◈ ciri.

[gynvael]

[ When Jaskier tells him he's found them a new home, Geralt asks no questions. Knowing his friend, he'd seen it coming. The place has been feeling cramped for some time now, and it isn't as if they haven't got the coin to rent a larger space. It'll be nice to have a bit more room.

He has little to pack. What isn't already in his bags fits into a single crate. His room does not yet have a bed, but he intends to get one. Seeing as he has a room of his own for the first time since setting foot in Cadens. Perhaps he'll even build it just to have something to do.

It isn't his room that he's currently in. It's Ciri's—cozy but empty. As has become tradition, Geralt's brought some shelving and furniture to piece together.

He peers around the doorframe, eyeing the shells and other trinkets she's begun to unpack. ] Those are new.

[ The pieces of coral, he means. ]

[wiedzminka]

[ Ciri eagerly shows him, unwrapping the cloth protecting the last piece and handing it to Geralt. It's bone-white and rough, branching like fingers. One of the others is thin and flat, like lace. She beams. ]

From when I went with Nadine to Andromeda Bay recently. To help clear the shoreline.

We were given glass tubes to breathe with underwater. I'd never done anything like that before. It was fun.

[gynvael]

[ Setting down the disassembled shelf, Geralt takes the piece of coral. It's rough like stone, but surprisingly lightweight. Back home, the lakes are full of kelp. He rarely visits the ocean enough to explore its depths.

He smiles back at her. It's good to see her cheered. ]

Did you? [ The coral is placed to the side with the rest of her things. He lines the cut lengths of lumber along the wall, organizing the pieces. ] Sounds more pleasant than my excursion. All I met in the water were teeth.

[ And now Jaskier has a miniature version of that damn plant in his domain. Leave it to the bard to keep a tiny facsimile of a monster. ]

[wiedzminka]

[ Ciri snorts a laugh. ]

There were some pinching crabs. Terrible on the toes.

[ She leans forward to help him hold the wood in place. ]

I was glad to help clean up the bay, though. It was in a sad state, and it's such a beautiful place. We'll have to visit again sometime, and not on business.

[gynvael]

We will. [ He means that. ] Soon.

[ He wants to take her away from the city. Someplace quiet where he can spend time with her, time he feels like he lost. It isn't true—he hasn't left this world to anybody else—but there's a distance he can't shake.

He spends the next little while putting the shelf into place; they talk of nothing important, but he lets her chatter at him while he hammers in the planks. He tells her of Jaskier's new magic (summoning a basket of wine and pierogis) and Himeka's strange little troll that's taken up residence at Kaer Morhen.

Eventually, they pause. Geralt sits back on his heels. Carefully, he rearranges the remaining planks into their respective sections. It's clear he's got something on his mind. ]

I realize we haven't spoken much of the years between us. [ He glances up. ] There's something I'd like to know. If you're ready to tell me.

— ◈ alucard.

[gynvael]

[cryptsleeper]

[It is a comfortable habit these days. One of them extends a not-quite-an-invitation to wherever they're staying now. The other one shows up with something to drink, and the night hours are spent in companionable silence with bouts of bullshitting in the way monsters and monster hunters do. Speculation about abilities. Comedy skits of incidents past that would be horror stories to anyone else. Ideas about new pierogi fillings.

The excuse this time is the new house for Geralt and his associates. It's a special matter, so Alucard brings wine for himself and fine ale for Geralt, leaving them to keep refilling their own glasses or to just drink out of the bottle. Alucard's brought a blood wine with blackberries and currants for himself, and given his friend a wheat ale that's as light and crisp as an early fall night. Apparently perfect for drinking on a roof, the faint glow of nightlife filtering in from all around.

Alucard's not sure how they got to the particulars of his bat form. There was probably a logical train of thought, but hell if he can recall it now. But they've been on it, and Alucard sighs dramatically, nearly melting into his seat.]

You're absolutely overthinking it. I just become bats. It's the same way I float - instinct. There's nothing more or less to it.

[gynvael]

[ The not-quite invitation in this case has to do with the new home they (Jaskier) have acquired. Moving in is a simple task for Geralt. His room currently sits empty except for a single shelf of animal-shaped erasers, a crystal dome containing a miniature Kaer Morhen within, and his ever-present pack and swords. Frankly, he doubts he'll ever fill the space with much. It isn't as though his room in Kaer Morhen had been overtaken by personal belongings.

The rooftop makes for a pleasant sitting area in the now cooler evenings. Jaskier has placed a few succulents and thick-leafed plants about. Geralt lounges in one of the chairs, foot propped on a small stool. A jug of ale hangs between his fingers.

It's good fucking ale. He may have indulged more than usual. Not enough to enter inebriation—he dislikes reaching that state—but the edges have dulled, the thoughts circling his head less sharp. ]

Shapeshifting is the transformation of one's biology. [ A magical transformation, obviously, but one nonetheless. You begin as one thing and become another. You don't begin as one thing and turn into multiple things. A cloud of bats should be more like an illusion, but Alucard's behaves as a single organism.

Doesn't it? He realizes he doesn't know if that's been tested. He squints. Unfortunately, Geralt's habit of not saying most of his thoughts out loud means there is little context for his next question. ]

Has anyone ever removed a single bat from your cloud?

[cryptsleeper]

The biology is hardly the point. If you overthink it, it becomes harder to d-- [There's a little scoff noise. Alucard knows he's finished most of the bottle of wine. It means the reactions are a little more open. Much more...in alignment with the family trends towards drama.]

No, and no one would think to do so because that is incredibly rude, Geralt.

[He pauses, frowning.]

And don't get any ideas.

— ◈ nero.

[gynvael]

[ofthesword]

[Nero didn't really come for any particular reason.

Maybe that's the weird part. Geralt's not the kind of guy you just show up and hang out with. He's not a "hanging out" sort of guy. It's always been 'cause there's some stupid crisis, or they need to kill some dumbass monster, or because he's been thrown into Geralt's weird trauma basement.

It's sort of lingered on the back of his mind. He's not a nosy guy, so he has no intention of looking for the trauma basement. Honestly, bein' there once was enough for him.

But when he makes his way up the mountain, steps into the glorified snow lodge, it does feel like something's different. Wasn't there a door down?

Shaggles?

Nero looks down. What he's looking at can only be described as a glorified walking... mole... thing. Did it just. Talk?] What the hell are --

[It grabs hold of Nero's bootlace and tugs it so hard he nearly falls over. And then it runs off, bootlace flailing behind it, with something like a laugh before it follows up with a wet, chewing sound --] Hey! Don't eat that, you little shit!

[There's no way Geralt put that thing here. Which means it doesn't belong. Which also means when he catches it, he's launching it out a goddamn window.]

[gynvael]

[ While the doors of Kaer Morhen are open to Nero, Geralt's never explicitly invited him. The few times they meet, Geralt came to him instead. There isn't much reason for a Nero to visit, and perhaps some part of him doesn't...want to acknowledge the previous incident. When Nero was last here.

The door beneath the stairs is gone now. So are the dark shadows obscuring the rickety descent. The stairs are sturdy now, and around the bend of a well-lit corridor, a different door sits. Perhaps the most remarkable difference is that Geralt emerges from the space below, climbing up the steps to investigate some familiar shouting. The fuck is—?

He leans against the wall's edge, crossing his arms as he watches Nero pursue the fleeing troll Himeka tells him is named Shaggles. The creature behaves just fine around Geralt, beyond pilfering bits of cheese and bread. Somehow, he isn't surprised it has no qualms giving Nero shit.

A tiny blur shoots past him and into the wolf on the other side. Lightning flash, its jaws close around the troll's scruff. Stubby legs dangle pathetically. The bootlace hangs from its mouth.

Geralt shifts his weight in silence, eyebrow lifting when Nero finally turns to look at him.

(Something about this absurd commotion is familiar. Kaer Morhen has not seen any bullshit rowdiness in a long time, he realizes.) ]

[ofthesword]

Hah! [He snaps, crossing the distance between himself and the wolf.] That'll teach you. Don't pick a fight you can't finish. [Ignoring that the wolf -- whom Nero met when he was actively dying in the pit -- finished the fight for him. Nero snatches his bootlace back, bending down to weave it right back where it came from.] Good boy. Thanks.

[He gives the wolf a scratch between the ears.]

So what are you even doing here, man? [It's directed at the mole now.] There's no way Geralt --

[Speak of the devil. The guy's not exactly a ninja, but Nero was. Distracted. He looks between Geralt, the little mole thing, and rubs the back of his neck.] Been watching the whole time, haven't you?

— ◈ himeka.

[gynvael]

[ Mm. This is unexpected.

Not the basket. Himeka occasionally leaves him food with the wolf. Last month, it was a crusty bacon bread. This time, it's—

Geralt pulls the strange creature out by the scruff of its neck. A row of jagged teeth greets him in what appears to be a. Smile. He thinks. Stuck between its sharp pearly whites are bits of spinach. Crumbs are trapped on its fuzzy belly.

So that's where his food went.

With a sigh, he puts the creature back in the basket. Suppose he may as well return the damn thing. He'd say Himeka must be missing it, but if he knows anything about her, she's probably not noticed it's disappeared.

Tracking her and her crystal down is simple enough. If the food has only arrived, she must be inside the Horizon. Sure enough, he finds her halfway around the crater. ]

You, uh— [ He holds up the basket. The creature's head peeks out from under the cloth. ] —misplaced a friend.

[ It belches, satisfied. ]

[aquaveiled]

[ Geralt is right on the money--Himeka hasn't even noticed that her Tiny Troll has gone. To her credit, it's difficult to keep track of the things she creates and she has a habit of adding more little friends when she decides to brighten up the place a bit. After her latest stint in Eoreza and beyond, she'd found she had grown quite fond of the industrious troll living beneath the streets of Old Sharalyan. So she'd thought to make one in his likeness.

Albeit not quite as clever...but adventurous and mayhaps a little gluttonous as well. (More like Himeka than Shaggles in that regard.)

Himeka looks up when she hears Geralt, already smiling with the assumption that he has some feedback on her meal, and-- ]

Hm?

[ Oh. ]

Eh? What are you doing in there?

[ She trots over, lifting up the cloth to reveal the little and now even rounder troll in all his glory. His wide smile tells nothing, given that's his default expression. ]

I'd say he misplaced himself.

[gynvael]

[ Misplaced himself. That's one way to put it.

The creature appears not at all regretful of its transgressions. Geralt gives the basket a little shake as if to coax it out. When it refuses to move—possibly, it's grown too bulbous to do so—he plucks it up.

It's clear he expects Himeka to take the thing back. It's hers, for one. For another, what would he do with it? His Horizon is already filled with a wolf, a horse, and a miniature bat. His home in Cadens has two pets. He does not need more tiny animals in his life. ]

He should count his blessings I didn't presume you sent me a live meal.

[ Geralt's tone is flat, but it's likely he's joking. Probably. ]

[aquaveiled]

[ Yes, probably. Himeka takes it as a joke as he reaches out to accept the troll. ]

Oh, I'd have included a recipe if that were the case.

[ She's also joking. Probably.

Yet as she puts her hands under his suspiciously small arms, the troll starts to wiggle and grunt in protest. She pauses, kind holding him out from her awkwardly, arms straight. ]

What, you don't want to be eaten? Mayhaps you should think before you slip into someone's meal basket. You can't be surprised when people get the wrong impression.

[ He shakes his head vehemently. ]

No? Then what is it?

[ A series of almost cat-like noises and deep seal-ish grunts follow. It sounds like a bunch of nonsense, but...those with a special gift can, somehow, understand it. (Mayhaps Geralt is one of those people.) ]

"I don't want to return to the bubble! I've explored every cavern and cloud and the dragonets liken me to a ball to toss around. No, I crave new horizons...and adventure!"

— ◈ steve harrington.

[gynvael]

[ Kaer Morhen is the natural space to train in. Steve arrives for his regular lessons, and that's where they talk. Geralt's had little reason to visit Steve's domain in return—aside from when he came across Steve's gigantic monster before they promptly fell through a crack in the Horizon.

He can't say what finally brings him to the boy's side of the crater. Perhaps it's to do with his extended memories. Absent of the people he's come to know and care for in this world, they make him feel as if he hasn't seen them in far longer than a handful of weeks.

The long stretch of road hasn't changed. Geralt leaves behind Roach in favour of his motorbike. Just seems to better suit the smooth grey stone. The bike could almost belong to the same era with its vaguely vintage design, and it rumbles as he pulls up next to a lit sign that proclaims, in bold yellow letters, SCOOPS AHOY.

No snarling monsters. Always a good sign.

Curious and assuming the shop must be open to anybody, Geralt pushes open the door. The bell chimes. He can hear the hum of lights and machinery, and the smell that fills the air is thick with sugar. ]

[hairington]

[ it's something a bit unspoken between them; that steve comes to kaer morhen, that steve trains in what he's pretty sure is the set for some movie version of eddie's fantasy novels, because where else would he do it? the tall dark stone towers and dusting of snow feels right. it's starting to feel familiar. and he's never really seen a reason to change that up.

plus, steve's not really had the uh. best experiences in his domain. between the monsters that felt too much a part of it to the way he can't really ever get rid of the things he doesn't want there, it's just. easier not to be here. he drives for hours on the dark roads that roll through rows of trees, blaring music and pushing ninety, but the drive in? scoops ahoy? if steve had any actual say in it (or if he could actually focus for long enough to do anything with it), they'd be gone. he doesn't know what would take their place, but it wouldn't be them.

but they hang around, and as steve feels the rumble of some sort of motorcycle roll through his winding forest road, he's...well, surprised but also not threatened, somehow. geralt steps in through the door that wasn't even there in starcourt, and steve is stepping through the back door, in from what should be the back room but here is something much worse. ]

Uh. Hi. [ steve says with a vaguely uncertain smile. geralt looks...honestly, geralt looks lost standing under these fluorescent lights. horrendously out of place. so much that it's almost funny. but steve doesn't need to harp on that, so he doesn't, reaching forward and lifting the counter so he can walk through it. ] Did I miss a training or something?

[gynvael]

[ Geralt does, in actuality, stand out like a bull in a banquet hall in this brightly lit shop full of bright red seats and tiled blue floors. He's peering at the sign behind the counter that says Oceans of Flavors, and he hasn't any idea what the fuck he's even looking at.

Is this...Steve's shop? From home? He at least recognizes the buckets beneath the glass to be ice cream, but that's the extent of his familiarity. It reminds him of Nadine's candy shop that she took him to. If there's one thing he's learned about the foods from worlds like Nadine and Steve, it's that everything is filled with sugar.

But the food's not why he's here. He shakes his head. ]

No. I, ah— [ Hm. ] Was nearby. I thought I'd see if anything was different than the last time.

[ With the monsters and all. This is much more pleasant. It suits Steve. Unlike Geralt, Steve looks as though he fits in here perfectly—much more than he ever does in the frosty snow atop the mountains. ]

[hairington]

[ oh, he absolutely does. steve almost can't stop staring at him, how out of place he is. he feels for him, if only because steve's pretty sure he hasn't stopped feeling that way about solvunn since he first got pulled through the well. so, really, steve's sympathetic to that lost look on geralt's face as he steps out from behind the counter into the main area of the shop.

steve's head tilts for a brief moment, not sure what geralt means. he's used to their conversations being short and fairly direct - geralt isn't someone steve really ever worries about saying one thing when he means another. ] Different? Oh- you mean the monster shit.

[ wow...the last time geralt was in his domain was...the heralds? jesus christ.

still, steve slips his hands into the pockets of his jacket and looks around. ] Uh- yeah. I mean. Haven't really had to deal with monsters since then, which is...nice. And you were at the drive-in, right? [ a beat, and then steve just sort of shrugs. ] Welcome to Scoops Ahoy. Do you want to...try the ice cream?

— ◈ nadine.

[gynvael]

[ Several weeks pass before Geralt finally seeks out Nadine. He'd wanted to...wait. To see if the pains were mere ghosts that would soon fade.

They do not. Denying it any longer edges into bullshitting himself. Though he does feel better than that first night—steadier, more himself—his leg in particular remains bothersome when he rides for too long, trains too hard, sleeps too awkwardly. More healing is not the answer. Between Triss, the dryads, Yennefer—he knows all the magic in the world has been expended to fix him.

It isn't a cure he's after. Just relief. And Nadine will have it, if no one else.

The door to her clinic is open. Geralt steps inside, letting it shut quietly behind him. He seldom comes for much other than to restock before he rides out, but this time, he looks for her inside. ]

[nadine_he_loves]

Hey!

[Nadine turns from her work - pounding some leaves into a pulp - when Geralt comes in, offering him a welcoming smile. She knows, of course, from what Jaskier's told her that another one of those...memory dreams had happened. But it's none of her business and she hasn't mentioned anything. Nor did Jaskier say much in regards to Geralt, and she hadn't pushed. Her concern, of course, had been Jaskier.

So that's hardly on her mind when he enters Salves & Stitches.]

What can I do for you?

[He doesn't come by socially, not unless he has something to drop off to her and chats for a few minutes in the process. He gets what he needs and he goes, half the time it's Brother Cadfael putting together his bag.]

[gynvael]

[ Geralt has, honestly, spoken very little of what happened to anyone. Julie knows the most. Sam. Otherwise, he's kept it to himself.

He steps further inside the room. A brief hesitation fills the air. Where does he start? No Witcher has ever needed what he does. They do not earn deep aches and pains. Wounds of that nature would simply leave them fucking dead.

It's been a constant frustration since that night. ]

I need something for...regular pains. [ She's given him a few potions to keep him going in an emergency, but this is. Different. It's not about staying on his feet for a few hours until he can stitch himself up. ] That won't interfere with my work.

[nadine_he_loves]

Oh. Okay.

[That's something of a surprise, but Nadine tries not to let it show on her face. Pain management had never been a concern of Geralt's.]

Well, what level of pain are you looking to manage? On a scale of one to ten, where one's a little bit uncomfortable and ten is can't even walk it hurts so bad.

[Closer to one, she'd guess, considering Geralt walked in here under his own power. But then again, he's much tougher than most. And there's his unique constitution to take into account. She's sure she can give him something that will help, though.

Without rendering him sleepy or sluggish.]