abraxaslogs | [ OPEN ] i know some places and i've seen some faces

[ OPEN ] i know some places and i've seen some faces

WHO: sam wilson and anyone/everyone.
WHAT: captain america cookout.
WHERE: sam's horizon domain
WHEN: third saturday of september (aka, about 3 weeks after the jailbreak)
NOTES: see below!

HELLO ALL AND WELCOME TO SAM'S CAPTAIN AMERICA COOKOUT!!!!

Over the last week or so, Sam has been going out of his way to contact as many people as he knows to invite them to a cookout at his place in the Horizon. He knows that after the jailbreak, a lot of people were separated, and this was his first thought on how to bring people together. The purpose behind it is simply because Sam thinks that the one thing all of them have in common, opinion on the Singularity and their situations aside, is that they were all brought here and can actually access the Horizon. He sees merit and use in coming together when they can, especially in ways that don't involve the politics of the land they're now living in. So, what better way to do that than around food?

The long and short of it is - this is a peace meal. Leave your issues at the door. Sam has very few rules and there is very little he will give in terms of what this cookout will entail, but three things he will make very clear:

1.) There will be no fighting at his home. You want to duke it out? Take it somewhere else. There will not be warnings or second chances. Don't be an ass.
2.) There is no meeting or serious reason for this cookout. Literally, he just wants people to come together who may no longer be able to see each other due to the travel constraints. It's meant to be fun. Come have fun. (he knows y'all know what that is, even when some of you pretend you don't). Bring food if you want to! There is also a kitchen (if you know what that is) and places to crash. Hope you like seafood!
3.) Anyone who can come into the Horizon is welcome. He'd love it if everyone came, so spread the word.

The cookout itself is set up out front, with picnic tables and chairs and fire pits and lights abound. There are tables set up near grilles if anyone wants to do any actual cooking outside, and a table (probably multiple) set up with sides and napkins and utensils. There are a variety of different places to go and sit and hang out while you're eating. Anything and everything you can want is available - food, drinks, yard games, music playing from out in the trees that will remain consistent unless someone tries to find the speakers and hijack the playlists, etc. If you can't find something outside, you're more than welcome to check the house.

All throughout the party, too, there will be a new friend. Red, as Sam fondly calls him, is a blood-red hunting hawk with silver in between the feathers. He can be found circling around Sam quite often, or perched on his shoulders, but also if you are out and about you can often see him checking up on anyone and everyone. He's a very curious little bird, and also pretty sassy, if you want to interact with him.

If you haven't, or have, been to Sam's domain before, feel free to take a look around. Anywhere is open (save for one locked bedroom) so everyone has open access, but most of the cookout itself will be located in the front yard.

OOC: This is mean to be an OPEN LOG, so leave your TLs or closed threads below! This party will last basically as long as people want it to, but the idea is for it to be an afternoon into the evening. Y'all have free reign save for destroying Sam's home, but if you have any questions, hit me up on plurk (disarmingly or disco (dai#3757). Sam's TL is below, and he will be bouncing around like the good host he is, but lets get a little party started.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ He makes quick work of the remaining skewers, laying them out for her to sear. There's some curiosity watching her work the burners in the kitchen—blue flames licking, where he's used to an open fire. ]

I hunt monsters. [ It's put simply, as he tends to. ] For money.

[ There's some emphasis on that. That Witchers operate exclusively for coin is common knowledge back on the Continent, but out here—he's had more than one person presume he has some moral standing behind his profession. Some protective drive. He doesn't. Not really.

He stacks the last of the skewers on the plate. When he delves into Sam's fridge for a beer, it's with the ease of a man who's familiar with the house, the host, and knows he's welcome in it. Geralt does not examine this feeling too deeply right now. Instead, his attention returns to Himeka. ]

And you?

[ It's certainly a different type of stove than she is used to, but she cannot be wanting for power. Lyngsath would be absolutely beside himself if he could experience this. As she finishes off a skewer, it gets set to the side on a new plate, though she makes a point to hold one out directly to Geralt.

You have to test your food, of course! ]

Ah, so is that what a "Witcher" is? A hunter?

[ For what it's wort, she has no issues with the profession. Her own travels and exploits definitely did not start out as altruistic at all--quite the opposite, actually. And as keen as she is to do what she can for others, Himeka is no stranger to trading kills for coin. ]

Me? Mm...I suppose what ever is deemed necessary. Monsters, yes...sometimes people...or a very ornery sheep if they're causing enough trouble. But I'm usually only called in by name if it's something specialized.

[ There is a considerable pause as she looks at Geralt, then at the beer, then back at Geralt expectantly. ]

[ The skewer pushed towards him seems to catch Geralt off guard. He closes his mouth without answering. He takes a bite instead and gives a indistinct noise that passes for approval of some kind. ( Fuck. That's good.) ]

Something of the sort. [ Hunter is effectively what he's introduced himself as half the time if only to avoid the roundabout conversation where he needs to explain what a Witcher is in the first place. It's more than a profession, more than a job, but all of that's complicated. Unimportant to the conversation at hand. He doesn't bring it up.

He looks between her and the beer. Then he reaches in for a second and tosses it her way. Should he ask about the ornery sheep? Mm. Perhaps not.

The bottle is odd to him, but after turning it in his hand a second, he slides his thumb under the rough edges of the cap to pop it off. ] Specialized?

Edited 2021-10-21 03:52 (UTC)

[ While she doesn't expect a round of applause (though it wouldn't be unwarranted), the grunt of approval is enough for her. Everyone enjoys food in their own ways, it's that they enjoy it that matters most to her. She'll take it with a quirk of her lips.

"Something of the sort", hm? She feels like there is probably more to it than that, especially considering "monster" can be a very general term. But she's patient and figures details may come with time. ]

A hunter of monsters in particular, then?

[ Doesn't mean she won't see what he's willing to share. To her it sounds like they're in similar professions, as it was with Ciri when they spoke, which is an automatic +10 to friendship in her book. He gets no choice in that matter.

Luckily she catches the beer, though she is immediately put off by the cap. What is this? Where is the cork? Glancing at the current set of skewers on the grill, she leaves them for a minute as she figures out how to deal with the contraption keeping her from her booze. Geralt seems to pop it off easily, but she isn't so lucky and frowns slightly. ]

Mmhmm.

[ She hums, half-distracted as she gets an idea. Himeka calls a bit of fire to hand and applies it to the bottle cap, heating it until the material is malleable and starts to deform. Then she flicks it off with a proud smile. ]

We--myself, and more recently Estinien--are members of an organization that exists outside of local governments to ensure the future of the realm. In particular, we deal with threats that others are either less-inclined or ill-equipped to address.

[ Himeka takes a drink of the beer then, of course finding the top of the glass too hot. Ow. Good job. ]

I--

[ A pause as she rubs her lip. Is that going to burn? ]

--am usually on the job when we are facing Primals and their ilk as I'm immune to their call.

Only monsters. [ He's not a mercenary, in other words, contrary to what some have tried to hire him for. That much will never change.

Geralt tips back his beer, eyeing Himeka with a mixture of intrigue and bemusement. He considers offering to open it for her (why create a bottle like this?), but she appears to have it well in hand—even if her solution is. Unconventional. But effective. That's one way to do it.

His brows draw together a hint as she brings the heatedd glass to her lips. Wait. She isn't—except she does, and were he not watching her prepare a meal this entire time, he'd assume she's got several drinks in her already. The look Geralt casts in her direction says that if he were the type to shake his head at her, he would be. ]

Noble. [ Geralt does offer more than that; he's already heard it from Estinien's mouth, and his feelings on orders of that function are complicated at best. At the moment, he doesn't care to get into it. It's never really about intentions for him. It's about what those intentions inevitably spawn.

He takes another skewer instead. If he'll be helping make these, then he'll eat them, too. ] You must be in high demand.

[ She nods, half-distracted by how poorly she handled this bottle. She could just let it cool down, but she wants the beer. A quandary. She could use an ice spell next. That would suffice, wouldn't it? ]

Only.

[ Geralt is making the effort to clarify that, so it must be an important distinction for him. As a man of few words each must be chosen carefully, right? ]

You must have some fun stories, then. Or terrifying ones. Though I suppose those can be one and the same depending on who you talk to.

[ Not forgetting the skewers, she turns over the few that still need some proper charring at the edges while moving the finished ones to the platter and settling the next bunch on. ]

Sometimes "monsters" can be much more sympathetic than people.

[ At "noble", she has to smile a bit. The intentions of her colleagues have always been noble, long before she came on board to the notion, which was much too late for how long she had been working for them. ]

It certainly can be in the right hands and with the right heading.

[ Okay, yes, she is trying the ice thing and it's only a moment before the entire bottle has a thick layer of frost as well as some noticeable ice formation inside the bottle itself. But it's cool enough that when she puts her lips to it she can finally take a hearty drink. Nice and cool.

Ah!

Her tail swishes happily behind her as she sets the bottle down on the counter. Well, tries to set--apparently she's fused it a bit with the ice but it only takes a few shakes to break it, thankfully. ]

Yes, though it'd be better for everyone if I wasn't.

[ Whether that's because the threats are that large, her ability to deal with them properly, or simply her desire to is left unsaid. ]

"Witcher" is an interesting term. When I think "witch" I don't immediately think of a monster hunter. Do you have witches on your star?

[ Geralt, too, is distracted by this bottle of hers, because he's never witnessed such a simple affair grow so fucking complicated so quickly. (That's a lie; he absolutely has, every time he steps anywhere near the politics of a king's court.) He wants to tell her to simply stick it under the water source in this kitchen that conveniently runs hot or cold on command, but she has other ideas in mind and he watches as frost crackles around the glass.

All right.

He still doesn't comment, but there's a distinct sigh before he tips back his own ale and takes a drink. What were they talking about again. Monsters being less of a bastard than people? Mm. Yeah. He can agree with that. As for stories—the only fun and terrifying tales he's got are the ones Jaskier has spun with his embellished touch. ] Not particularly. Unless you find three days' worth of sitting in the rain outside a nest exciting.

[ A keen interest grows in his eyes when she says It'd be better for everyone if I wasn't; though Geralt doesn't address it aloud, there's a sense he's taken especial note of that remark. Or maybe it's possible for Himeka to have realized that he's taken note of almost every remark in their conversation, whether he responds to it or not.

That last question, he does answer. ] Sure. Mages, sorcerers. Druids. All about the same. [ He shrugs. Truthfully, he isn't certain why Witchers are called what they are. It just is. If there's a root cause for the term, it's long been lost, but given how they were created, he imagines not too much thought was given. ] Why is an elf called an elf?

Edited 2021-10-28 22:58 (UTC)

[ She rocks her head back and forth as she considers the (admittedly) boring scenario. Himeka is well aware that a majority of the time spent hunting anything is usually long periods of time spent in preparation and wait followed with a few short moments of action. She's not great at the first part. ]

Not really, no. The rain is nice, though. What sort of nest? Was it worth the wait?

[ 'Why is an elf called an elf?' She laughs outright at that--not mockery, but pure amusement. ]

They're only called that on the First, actually--or whatever it is that you're from, apparently.

[ The last batch of skewers make it on the grill as what's complete sits steaming enticingly in front of them, which leads Himeka to now wonder what her next concoction will be. Maybe something to go with the skewers? ]

What do you call your star?

[ What sort of nest. More like, what nest wasn't it? There are dozens of types of nests, and he has ended up in the pouring rain waiting for all of them at some point in his life, several times over. ]

Rarely. But coin is coin.

[ If he gets paid, he counts it as a success. Anyway, it's less, mm. Like pulling teeth these days and though he won't say it aloud, he knows much of that is to do with Jaskier. Still. People are people. And it doesn't always matter how many of a bard's songs they hear.

He glances out the window briefly at the guests in the front of the house. It's all so. Pleasant. ]

A sphere, for one. [ Star is a new one. ] It's just the Continent.

[ There isn't really a name. It's a piece of land they fell upon and everyone has fought for their right to it ever since. An ancient, never-ending cycle. ]

[ She can't really argue against that. Getting paid for work does help and, you know, pay for things, but it's been many years since she was truly strapped for cash. ]

I had the misfortune once of trying to eradicate a colony of feral dodos by frantically running from one nest to the next with nearly the whole family in tow.

[ A beat as she picks up the bottle of beer once more. ]

They look stupid but that makes them all the more dangerous when angry.

[ Very early on in her career, too. Much shouting and relying on the command of a carbuncle that didn't want to listen to her.

But, okay. His star is called "Sphere" for some reason and the place he lives is just..."The Continent." Himeka does pause mid-drink to look at Geralt then and says very easily and simply-- ]

Those are terrible names.

[ Very uncreative. But also not his fault. He didn't make them, after all.

After a hearty swig she rotates the skewers and hands Geralt another, bidding him to take it fully for himself rather than just sample. ]

So you are a Witcher who hunts monsters for coin on the Continent on your Sphere. May I ask why? Surely it isn't the easiest way to make money.

[ That's. Fascinating. Geralt takes a sip of his beer and resettles on a nearby stool. Unfortunately for Himeka, Geralt is absolutely terrible at swapping stories about his hunting. He's only ever really done it with the other Witchers, when he returns home, and beyond that—Jaskier knows the pain of getting him to spit out any kind of detail.

Still, she does get a snort out of him, quiet though it is. ] We don't have those.

[ Dodos, he means, though he imagines they must be a sort of reptile or bird if they have a nest. He takes the offered skewer without question, pulling one of the pieces of meat off, seemingly unbothered by the heat. If food is given to him, he'll eat it. Himeka will rapidly discover this about him if she spends enough time with him in the kitchen.

He doesn't see how a star is any more creative. But he doesn't comment. ]

I was made for it. [ The answer comes simply. He hasn't got a better one. They made him, they trained him, and they sent him off. What else is he to do? Settle in a village? Start a new life? Open a shop or a stable? Looking as he does, with the reputation that he's got? No. It doesn't work like that. At most, a Witcher might stray off the Path to become a bounty hunter or an assassin. But never anything that doesn't involve killing for money.

He tilts his head at her. ] Is it especially lucrative to strike peace deals with dragons? Or do you bake on the side to supplement the adventures of a champion?

[ Truly not one of her best stories, but it was the first thing that popped into her head when talking about nests. Dodos, while rather innocuous in most situations, were very strange to an Auri woman who had only recently left the sea and decidedly more formidable for a budding adventurer who was struggling with her Grimoire. ]

No? Large, suspiciously round birds? Hmm, you're not the first to say that, though the First did did have something of a dodo-equivalent. I suppose it's not too surprising that not all creatures are reflected on each shard.

[ Geralt hadn't come off as a particularly chatty person before and this definitely cements it. But, while she may be projecting a bit of how she understands some of her other quieter friends, Himeka also assumes if he were really uninterested or preferred not to take part in the conversation he would just leave. Given that he's still situated and now eating her food again, he might as well have just agreed to her olive branch of friendship. Too late for him.

Once you sample someone's meat you really don't have a choice.

Or apparently choice in profession, with how she puts it. Himeka considers it for a quiet moment--he could have refused to answer, though it's simple enough to fit with how he's been answering most of her questions. "Made for it" could mean many different things to many different people. Natural talents? Dedication? Passion? Literally...constructed?

Much to think about. ]

You must be very good at it, in that case.

[ Don't mind as she finishes off the rest of the bottle in a series of gulps. Are there more in the cold box? ]

Lucrative?

[ She lets out a breathy laugh at that. ]

No, not really. It was at risk of the safety and well-being of those who volunteered, the stability of the state, and the reputation of those who had been kind enough to take us in despite the fact we were fugitives at the time.

[ She plops the last batch of skewers onto the plate. ]

In all honesty, at the time I was flat broke! And dragons don't really have a sense of currency, though you can trade with them if you find something they think are useful. Meat is a good to go, so mayhaps you would fit in well with them.

[ She's amused at her own remark as she turns the stove top off. ]

I have cooked for coin before...

[ But her voice trails off at the memories as she stares off into the kitchen. So much Walnut Bread, so many cookies...

Himeka shakes her head. ]

Anyway, if I had the choice I'd pick fishing. Have you been fishing, Geralt?

[ She isn't wrong. If he'd wanted to end a conversation, he would've, including walking away abruptly if he had to. (Estinien learned that firsthand, so she can always ask him.) As it is, he sets the bottle on the ground in favour of eating the skewer as he listens to her talk. He's aware it isn't real food, technically, but he's been subsisting off of a variety of bread and meat and cheese out there and little else, so this is a welcome reprieve. Besides, what the hell else is there to do at a gathering of this sort except drink and eat?

It's funny, she calls it a shard. A shard of the universe? They're not foreign concepts, but the terminology is...intriguing.

He hums, neither confirming nor denying outright, exactly how good he is. ] I'm not dead yet.

[ He only needs to be good enough to stay alive. That's the baseline by which he operates. As for her story—he seems to absorb it, curious, but also not having anything to offer in return about it. High stake politics are not what he bothers with. He watches them, watches those who play rise and fall, and carefully steps around it all. In the midst of that is the last place he ever wants to be; it's part of why he's so uneasy being in this world, knowing that there is something here that will be demanded of him sooner or later, something he can't avoid forever. And he doesn't want any of it. He has even less desire to entangle himself with those who appear eager to step into the fray.

He frowns at her. (This is too much like talking to Jaskier. How the fuck did they get to fishing?) ] On occasion. If the need arises. [ He pulls another cube of squash free and pops it into his mouth. ] Hunting is simpler.

[ At least for him. He can track and kill a deer or boar quicker than he can track and net some fish in the water. ]

[ There's a palpable pause as she considers, looking Geralt up and down, and then nods in acceptance, then agreement.

It's a low bar, but it's a fair one--one she's oft applied to her own situation. As long as you make it out in the end you can deal with the consequences, whatever those may be. ]

Not something everyone has the ability to claim.

[ She goes over to the cold box and retrieves herself another beer. Setting that on the counter, she pulls herself up to sit on it instead, a congenial distance from Geralt but not so up in his space either. Curling her tail around her side to hang off the edge, the end twitches as she picks up the platter of skewers and places it between them.

She will share the rest with the part as a whole, eventually. But they worked on these so they get first takes. ]

You think so?

[ Interesting. ]

I suppose it would depend on what you're hunting.

[ She picks up a new skewer herself, biting off some zucchini. And yes, she does talk while chewing. ]

Luckily vegetables don't give much chase.

[ This is when she holds out her beer to him expectantly. He did have a much easier time opening it. ]

[ If Himeka wants to feast right here, who's he to discourage her? Besides, they can manifest twice over what they've eaten if need be. That he's brought a raw slab of meat and that they have prepared it and cooked it is just a matter of going through the motions. A slice of familiarity in this bizarre limitless plane.

She's also one of the rare people who may have inadvertently discovered that Geralt, for all that getting him to engage is like wringing blood from a stone, is surprisingly easy once you realize he is not a complicated man in certain regards. As in, he's far more willing to converse if free food and drinks are involved. ]

I can't track a fish through a lake by its scent. [ Geralt doesn't explain further. Instead, there's a beat. Then he takes the bottle. He slips his thumb underneath as before and pops it off. Even against his roughened skin, the jagged edged metal lid leaves a mark on his finger. He still doesn't understand why the fuck these bottles are created like this, but at least it isn't a hindrance to him. A cork is still much less effort, though.

He offers the beer back to her. There is the smallest tilt to his lips. ] How many vegetables have you slain?

[ He's gone about it the right way, at least in her mind. She may have conjured up a number of ingredients by necessity, but the act of preparing and making food in and of itself is enjoyable, and she fully believe the results are better than anything that could just be imagined. There's also an unmistakable satisfaction in enjoying the fruits of your own labor, both literally and figuratively.

Or vegetables in this case. ]

Track by scent?

[ Hyur aren't really known for having a keen sense of smell. Is this a Witcher thing? Or just a Geralt thing? ]

Is that how you normally hunt?

[ She happily takes back the bottle and a hearty swig. It's not the strongest nor darkest ale she's had, but it's decent, and it is very refreshing nice and cold like this. Even if the little metal hats are stupid. ]

More than I ought to admit. Where does the line fall between vegetable and animal? Have you ever had to face off against a cactus?

Mm-hmm. [ Part of how he normally hunts, in any case, which Geralt chooses not to clarify, not because he doesn't want to but because he assumes Himeka knows how to hunt herself.

When his skewer is finished, he reaches down to pick up his drink again. He squints at her. Mm. Where does he start? That a cactus is a plant, not a vegetable? Or should he ask if she means facing off as in it attacked her, literally, or she simply walked into one and has deemed that facing off? (A beat passes as Geralt considers the image of this lizard woman stuck with cacti needles before he quietly puts it aside.)

He's also never seen a cactus before until recently, stepping into the desert. For all of his travelling, Geralt rarely ventures that far south of the Continent. It isn't practical when he makes his trip every frost up the Blue Mountains. ]

A tree, once. [ A leshy is not really a tree in any sense of the word—it's a woodland creature—but Geralt will not nitpick at semantics in a conversation with Himeka. He's learning. ] Not an edible one.

[ In case she wanted to ask what vegetables it bore. ]

[ It is most definitely not how she hunts. Some things do have a particular scent, of course, but that is rarely what she relies on unless whatever her target is happens to be particularly pungent. No, she relies on tracks, word of mouth from the locals, the reactions of other flora and fauna in the area and, of course, residual aether.

(She could probably track Estinien by scent, though.)

So she cocks her head to the side. ]

You must either hunt some very stinky creatures or have a very keen sense of smell.

[ Which...could be six and one half-dozen of the other.

Fighting a tree, on the other hand, is something she can relate to. Himeka nods firmly in an (assumed) mutual understanding. ]

Corrupted flora can be quite the nuisance, can't it? Although I suppose some are just ornery to begin with. At least if it's edible you can enjoy the spoils of victory in more than one way.

Little of both. [ Will she ever find out exactly what he can do? Maybe eventually, if he ever finally gets around to explaining in full. For the time being, he chooses not to mention she does smell distantly of a sort of reptile, which suggests some possible relation between species that go beyond the visual patterning of her scales and tail.

One day, he might ask why they were absent inside the Horizon the first time. He's intrigued, not because of the shift in appearance alone, but because Estinien had not implied Himeka was born any differently or was changed at all. In fact, he'd specifically named the race to which she belonged, one that didn't sound especially uncommon. So why the deviation, only that once?

—Wait, has she just implied she eats corrupted vegetation? ]

Mmh. [ Mild concern is contained in that noise. He takes another skewer and sticks a non-corrupted bit of onion into his mouth. How many trees grow ornery in her world? Plenty of shit lurks in the forests, but ornery trees are not a thing he needs to be concerned about on a day to day basis. ] I suspect your plant life is more active than mine.

[ Huh. That's interesting. Also it seems like it would be a blessing and a curse to have a particularly good nose. There are some people she imagines would be difficult to be around.

She will follow up with that...another time, when it's likely more pertinent. For now she files that away in the growing drawer of "facts about Geralt from the Continent on the Sphere".

Himeka shrugs as she munches away on her own skewer, setting the now cleaned wooden stick aside before reaching for another. ]

It depends on the region, as I assume it would for your Continent as well? All living things tend to be more active where the aether is particularly thick or abundant.

[ Geralt peers at her, brows knitted. He knows aether, as a concept, as a term, but not like that. How she speaks of it, though, implies something else, and he hazards a guess for what she's really referring to. ]

A few are more sensitive to Chaos. Just not to the degree you mean.

[ Creatures don't stir because there is some natural force swirling in the air. It's only at most a place where mages find their magic stronger, now and again. Or where a dragon might like to rest. Beyond that—none of these things are particularly native to the Continent, to the world, and neither is the magic the humans wield. If magic has disturbed an area, drawn a monster's attention, it's always provoked, whether through deliberate intent or carelessness or some combination of both.

He pauses before adding, ] Most living things were not originally birthed on the Continent.

[ Likewise, he uses a word she is familiar with but not in the way she may have expected. Chaos is...well, chaotic, so aren't most things reactive to it? If not take part? ]

Do you mean just the chaos of living things or something else?

[ At least she has zero compunction on simply asking when she doesn't understand.

Though what he says next is even more curious. She cocks her head to the side as she regards him. ]

Then where did they come from?

Mages harness their magic through Chaos.

[ It's the most basic explanation, but beyond certain academic circles and writings that spend far too much time digging deeper into the innerworkings of their sphere, that's really all that needs to be known about it. But it does imply that only certain people can use magic in the first place, where he's from. Here, where it's accessible to far more people—that's new. Unusual.

And unpredictable. ]

They say multiple rifts opened up during a cataclysm. Filled the Continent with all sorts. They've fought over it ever since. [ It's said indifferently, like he's outside of this eternal conflict, and maybe he is. What does it matter, who belongs to where, what belongs to whom? He can't imagine any outcome that would resolve a damn thing. At most, it stops the flow of blood for a short time before something ignites the fire all over again.

It's no different here. Whether they're squabbling over the Continent or the Singularity, his only concern is keeping what little he cares about safe. ]

[ Now that gets a reaction out of her as she straightens her back and raises both of her brows. "Mages harness their magic through chaos"? Is that...akin to the way that some Thaumaturges may dabble with Voidsent? One can certainly gain an obscene amount of power that way, though at no small cost. ]

That sounds...dubious.

[ Not that she hasn't taken some risks of her own in her practice of magics. ]

We pull from the aether around us and manipulate it as necessary, although some are more inclined to some elements than others.

[ She wonders if that's the same thing, just by another name, or if "harnessing chaos" is really something else entirely. Mayhaps it is tapping into the void? To another ethereal plane?

For as congenial as it may appear to be sitting in the kitchen sharing stories, the subject has certainly changed. ]

A cataclysm?

[ That sounds...almost like the opposite of Calamity? At least that's how she processes it in the moment. ]

How long ago was this?

[ Geralt raises an eyebrow in return. Dubious. That's not the reaction he was expecting. Does it? ] No more or less than what you're describing.

[ Though he doesn't especially believe in the inherent nature of one force or another. There is no nature. There's just people and what they choose to do. And most, in his experience, don't especially choose well. (But then, who in the hell is he to talk?)

He gives the bottle in his hand an idle wiggle that passes for a shrug. ] Over a thousand years. The spheres that collided were destroyed or the doorways otherwise closed. In theory, travel to another world like this—it shouldn't be possible.

[ In theory. Even without taking into account Abraxas, what Ciri has told him about her powers changes everything. There's a lot that's been thrown into doubt as of late, and while Geralt is not surprised—what's known of the Conjunction is pieced together by haphazard writings, historians, surviving elves and dwarves; an amalgamation of people who have their own agendas, their own reasons for interpreting the world how they do—it also means most of what he once understood is in question. Too much feels possible now, and not in a good way. ]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject