Julie Lawry (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
princessvegas) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
abraxaslogs2023-11-05 03:50 pm
princessvegas) wrote in abraxaslogs2023-11-05 03:50 pm
[ closed ] he can't contain us
Who: Julie Lawry + closed
When: November
Where: The Singularity
What: A bad idea leads to more.
Every year after her Halloween party, Julie sleeps for an entire day or two. The mental power she exerts to completely overhaul her domain and puppeteer the event is massive and draining, and she needs to recover afterward. She does this after every major party she throws there, but the Halloween parties are the most intricate and difficult.
This year isn't exactly an exception. She does sleep all through the first; when she wakes, it's dark again outside, with only the deep purple suggestion of the sun beginning to peek through the desert sky. For a moment, she looks out her bedroom window into the morning twilight, across the rooftops of the houses next door, weighing out her plans.
Then she turns back inside and begins to gather her things. Hopefully, she won't need them. That's what she tells herself as she packs a small bag. Just... better safe than sorry.
She's not really worried about her personal safety. Julie is more than convinced that the Singularity will never hurt her or allow her to be hurt, that she will be safer there than anywhere else in Abraxas. And she's gotten pretty good at making portal stones, although she hasn't worked it out quite perfectly (probably because she isn't using the right kind of stone to start with). The stones still have a tendency to, um, explode after she goes through the portal. But that's fine -- she just puts a second piece of miranolite into her pocket. One to get there, one to get back.
But she isn't stupid, either, and Julie has already once been a journey back to civilization. So she takes an extra pair of shoes, a change of clothing. A small knife, a blanket, a compass. The enchanted canteen she gave Geralt, lifted from Roach's saddlebag when he wasn't looking. Two loaves of Jaskier's never stale or moldy bread. Things that would have been helpful the first time she walked over a thousand miles.
From under the bed, next to a pile of books and three destroyed toasters (she's actually gone through seven; these are just the most recent), she takes out a small stack of envelopes, tied together with a spare bit of the ribbon that she usually wraps around packages of Vegas Botanicals blends. Each one has a name written on the outside, people she knows. Both in Cadens and not. Jesper, Jaskier, Ciri, Sam. Wanda, Stephen, Rhy. Kyle, Nanaue. She places the stack on top of the duvet.
Two more envelopes are placed on top, outside of the ribbon that holds the rest. One marked Nadine, the other marked Geralt.
When she leaves through the front door, she silences it so as not to wake anyone, then casts an extra ward on the house as she goes. To keep Nadine safe. She pulls her hood up to cover her hair.
This time, Julie leaves Baron in his stable, though she stops by to feed him a carrot and give him a kiss before she goes. She leaves the city in a cluster of merchants who are trying to sort paperwork out with the guards in the dawning light; by the time anyone would notice her, she's already slipped out into the brush in the other direction.
For a while, she walks. Just walks, across the sand, past the big rocks and sparse trees. It's familiar and calm. One foot in front of the other, just keep going. In her head, she plays every song she can remember from home, the ones that carried her from state to state while her shoes filled with blood as she made her way to Vegas.
The sun is fully risen by the time she deems herself far enough away from the city. Away from eyes, away from ears. Away from the possibility of hurting anyone else. She rests for a moment against a rock tall enough to lean on, then takes out one of the stones in her pocket.
One spell, said twice in each cardinal direction. A clear visual of where she wants to go, which is a crapshoot, considering that she's never been to the Singularity proper. What she pictures is the Singularity she knows from the Horizon. The crater that surrounds it, barren and empty but still as comfortable as her childhood bedroom. The flat, smooth stone of the Singularity, so tall that she can't see the top.
Surely the Singularity can understand what she wants. Where she is trying to make its magic go.
Her veins seem to sizzle inside her skin as she puts everything she has into the stone. Her head feels light and her muscles ache. It lasts so much longer than every other stone she's made, their power all imbued in an instant. This is...
More.
She doesn't know if anyone has ever made a portal stone like this. In Thorne, they open portals to the area, but the Cities seem to avoid the Singularity's territory like the plague. They're further than Castle Thorne. She's using stone that she shouldn't be. Nothing about this should work.
But after the wave of disorienting pain, she feels the magic seal in the stone. It takes her a moment to catch her breath, but then she grabs her bag from the rock. Inhales deeply. Activates the stone.
The portal opens.
Even looking at it, Julie can tell that the portal is unstable. There's a shimmer to it, an unsteadiness. But she can see the Singularity on the other side, can feel it. She feels like there's a string inside her, suddenly, and it pulls her toward the shaky void, irresistible. Heart first.
Without even really thinking about it, she hurls herself through the portal.
It was a bad idea. A terrible idea. The portal feels different when she passes through, like it's disrupting the very cells of her body. The stone in her hand burns into her palm, but the agony doesn't rise above the disorientation that gives the sensation of the world turning on its head.
She hits the ground with a thud. The portal stone, dropped in the fray, shatters on the dirt, leaving only tiny sparkles in the sun. Julie lies there for a moment, too stunned to do much but blink at her satchel, landed five feet away. Her ribs are bruised from the impact of her fall, and it hurts to inhale, but she forces herself to sit up, then stand. Her surroundings slowly bleed through the daze until she realizes.
I'm here.
When she turns toward the Singularity, Julie realizes that she's trembling. She has been waiting for this moment for so long, so long. Never has she experienced longing the way she does for the Singularity, like a piece of herself has been here in this odd wasteland since she was dragged back from the emptiness of death to live as an alien in a new world. When Ambrose and his mages reached through space and time, when they fished her from their well, they didn't know. Didn't know that they were breaking her in two, leaving part of her stuck with the Singularity's magic they manipulated.
And now she is here. She is whole. And it is overwhelming.
The Singularity is just as enormous as it is in the Horizon, maybe even bigger. She's so close that it's hard to tell, looking up at the unending column of smooth stone. It appears to pierce the heavens above, its circular opening hidden in the clouds. Like a needle in search of thread.
Inside her chest, Julie feels the pull again. Stronger. Yearning. Tugging.
There is no hesitation as she follows the sensation. Lets it drag her forward. She walks into the crater without watching her step, eyes fixed trance-like on the monolith. It reels her in, in.
Ever since she first touched the Singularity in the Horizon, Julie has thought that it would be like this. That she would be able to walk across the crater without difficulty, that she would not be cast away into the Horizon like the others. She doesn't know why or what it is that binds her to this staggering being, but something does, and she takes each step braver, more secure. Enraptured.
The whole world fades away, not that there's much here to distract her anyway. But the wind, the sun, the distant background sound of birds twittering -- it all disappears. There is only the Singularity and Julie, caught in the thrall. She crosses the flat plane, her shoes leaving prints on the unmarked ground, and she stops only once she is within arm's reach of the Singularity.
"Hi," she murmurs, her eyes huge and shining as she looks upward. The wait, the struggle, the months and months of scheming and studying to get here. None of it matters anymore, and she would do it over and over if it meant she got to experience this moment forever.
Still shaking, Julie reaches out, arm on autopilot. Her fingertips touch stone and it feels like being folded into the arms of someone she has always known, always loved.
She collapses to the ground like a marionette with its strings suddenly cut, in a heap, her arm still extended, the back of her hand falling against the monolith and resting there.
A crow flies overhead with a cry.
When: November
Where: The Singularity
What: A bad idea leads to more.
Every year after her Halloween party, Julie sleeps for an entire day or two. The mental power she exerts to completely overhaul her domain and puppeteer the event is massive and draining, and she needs to recover afterward. She does this after every major party she throws there, but the Halloween parties are the most intricate and difficult.
This year isn't exactly an exception. She does sleep all through the first; when she wakes, it's dark again outside, with only the deep purple suggestion of the sun beginning to peek through the desert sky. For a moment, she looks out her bedroom window into the morning twilight, across the rooftops of the houses next door, weighing out her plans.
Then she turns back inside and begins to gather her things. Hopefully, she won't need them. That's what she tells herself as she packs a small bag. Just... better safe than sorry.
She's not really worried about her personal safety. Julie is more than convinced that the Singularity will never hurt her or allow her to be hurt, that she will be safer there than anywhere else in Abraxas. And she's gotten pretty good at making portal stones, although she hasn't worked it out quite perfectly (probably because she isn't using the right kind of stone to start with). The stones still have a tendency to, um, explode after she goes through the portal. But that's fine -- she just puts a second piece of miranolite into her pocket. One to get there, one to get back.
But she isn't stupid, either, and Julie has already once been a journey back to civilization. So she takes an extra pair of shoes, a change of clothing. A small knife, a blanket, a compass. The enchanted canteen she gave Geralt, lifted from Roach's saddlebag when he wasn't looking. Two loaves of Jaskier's never stale or moldy bread. Things that would have been helpful the first time she walked over a thousand miles.
From under the bed, next to a pile of books and three destroyed toasters (she's actually gone through seven; these are just the most recent), she takes out a small stack of envelopes, tied together with a spare bit of the ribbon that she usually wraps around packages of Vegas Botanicals blends. Each one has a name written on the outside, people she knows. Both in Cadens and not. Jesper, Jaskier, Ciri, Sam. Wanda, Stephen, Rhy. Kyle, Nanaue. She places the stack on top of the duvet.
Two more envelopes are placed on top, outside of the ribbon that holds the rest. One marked Nadine, the other marked Geralt.
When she leaves through the front door, she silences it so as not to wake anyone, then casts an extra ward on the house as she goes. To keep Nadine safe. She pulls her hood up to cover her hair.
This time, Julie leaves Baron in his stable, though she stops by to feed him a carrot and give him a kiss before she goes. She leaves the city in a cluster of merchants who are trying to sort paperwork out with the guards in the dawning light; by the time anyone would notice her, she's already slipped out into the brush in the other direction.
For a while, she walks. Just walks, across the sand, past the big rocks and sparse trees. It's familiar and calm. One foot in front of the other, just keep going. In her head, she plays every song she can remember from home, the ones that carried her from state to state while her shoes filled with blood as she made her way to Vegas.
The sun is fully risen by the time she deems herself far enough away from the city. Away from eyes, away from ears. Away from the possibility of hurting anyone else. She rests for a moment against a rock tall enough to lean on, then takes out one of the stones in her pocket.
One spell, said twice in each cardinal direction. A clear visual of where she wants to go, which is a crapshoot, considering that she's never been to the Singularity proper. What she pictures is the Singularity she knows from the Horizon. The crater that surrounds it, barren and empty but still as comfortable as her childhood bedroom. The flat, smooth stone of the Singularity, so tall that she can't see the top.
Surely the Singularity can understand what she wants. Where she is trying to make its magic go.
Her veins seem to sizzle inside her skin as she puts everything she has into the stone. Her head feels light and her muscles ache. It lasts so much longer than every other stone she's made, their power all imbued in an instant. This is...
More.
She doesn't know if anyone has ever made a portal stone like this. In Thorne, they open portals to the area, but the Cities seem to avoid the Singularity's territory like the plague. They're further than Castle Thorne. She's using stone that she shouldn't be. Nothing about this should work.
But after the wave of disorienting pain, she feels the magic seal in the stone. It takes her a moment to catch her breath, but then she grabs her bag from the rock. Inhales deeply. Activates the stone.
The portal opens.
Even looking at it, Julie can tell that the portal is unstable. There's a shimmer to it, an unsteadiness. But she can see the Singularity on the other side, can feel it. She feels like there's a string inside her, suddenly, and it pulls her toward the shaky void, irresistible. Heart first.
Without even really thinking about it, she hurls herself through the portal.
It was a bad idea. A terrible idea. The portal feels different when she passes through, like it's disrupting the very cells of her body. The stone in her hand burns into her palm, but the agony doesn't rise above the disorientation that gives the sensation of the world turning on its head.
She hits the ground with a thud. The portal stone, dropped in the fray, shatters on the dirt, leaving only tiny sparkles in the sun. Julie lies there for a moment, too stunned to do much but blink at her satchel, landed five feet away. Her ribs are bruised from the impact of her fall, and it hurts to inhale, but she forces herself to sit up, then stand. Her surroundings slowly bleed through the daze until she realizes.
I'm here.
When she turns toward the Singularity, Julie realizes that she's trembling. She has been waiting for this moment for so long, so long. Never has she experienced longing the way she does for the Singularity, like a piece of herself has been here in this odd wasteland since she was dragged back from the emptiness of death to live as an alien in a new world. When Ambrose and his mages reached through space and time, when they fished her from their well, they didn't know. Didn't know that they were breaking her in two, leaving part of her stuck with the Singularity's magic they manipulated.
And now she is here. She is whole. And it is overwhelming.
The Singularity is just as enormous as it is in the Horizon, maybe even bigger. She's so close that it's hard to tell, looking up at the unending column of smooth stone. It appears to pierce the heavens above, its circular opening hidden in the clouds. Like a needle in search of thread.
Inside her chest, Julie feels the pull again. Stronger. Yearning. Tugging.
There is no hesitation as she follows the sensation. Lets it drag her forward. She walks into the crater without watching her step, eyes fixed trance-like on the monolith. It reels her in, in.
Ever since she first touched the Singularity in the Horizon, Julie has thought that it would be like this. That she would be able to walk across the crater without difficulty, that she would not be cast away into the Horizon like the others. She doesn't know why or what it is that binds her to this staggering being, but something does, and she takes each step braver, more secure. Enraptured.
The whole world fades away, not that there's much here to distract her anyway. But the wind, the sun, the distant background sound of birds twittering -- it all disappears. There is only the Singularity and Julie, caught in the thrall. She crosses the flat plane, her shoes leaving prints on the unmarked ground, and she stops only once she is within arm's reach of the Singularity.
"Hi," she murmurs, her eyes huge and shining as she looks upward. The wait, the struggle, the months and months of scheming and studying to get here. None of it matters anymore, and she would do it over and over if it meant she got to experience this moment forever.
Still shaking, Julie reaches out, arm on autopilot. Her fingertips touch stone and it feels like being folded into the arms of someone she has always known, always loved.
She collapses to the ground like a marionette with its strings suddenly cut, in a heap, her arm still extended, the back of her hand falling against the monolith and resting there.
A crow flies overhead with a cry.
no subject
But that doesn't mean she isn't still somewhat disoriented. Her heart pounds furiously in her chest, and she winces as she takes heaving breaths. Blood begins to accumulate under the broken skin of her arm and palms. She looks at him for a moment with wide, bewildered eyes, still trying to get any of her bearings back after so long in such a different place.
Still breathlessly panting, she sort of gently throws herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck without care for the blood. He's solid and real and here, and after more than two weeks of only herself and the blob, she is slightly overwhelmed to be in the presence of anyone else. Clinging to him, she chokes back a sob of pure emotion, so many different feelings that she doesn't have much of a name for when they're all combined like this.
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The sky darkens above, the monolith's shadow stretching dark over the dusty landscape. The temperatures sink with the sun.
Eventually, he pulls back a little and cups her face between his palms, studying her closely with furrowed brows.
"Are you okay?"
She's hurt, but he can look at the scrapes and bruises in a minute. He just wants to be sure she's actually here, that there's not some part of her left behind in the Horizon. It's always worried him that might happen one day—not only that it might take her from him in one fell swoop, but that he'll end up watching it consume her without her ever realizing.
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When he holds her face, she sighs and leans into it with her eyes closed for a moment before she looks at him again. Smiling, she nods a little, putting her hands atop his.
"I'm okay," she murmurs, and she means it. Nothing is missing, nothing is wrong. She doesn't feel afraid or upset or lost. Just still a bit caught up in the whirl of everything.
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The first are her wounds. Minor though they are, she's in the middle of nowhere and might be for a time yet. There's no need to risk anything festering. He's not asked her means of returning home—nor his, but he's a secondary concern.
He gives her another minute, forehead resting against hers, before gently disengaging to rise to his feet. His set of supplies never changes, but Nadine has given him a few extra ointments and potions. He gathers one of the small tins from his bag and rejoins her.
He holds out his hand for her bloodied ones. "Let me see."
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A small weight drops from her shoulders when he comes back. Real, she keeps telling herself. She is out, he is real. This is real.
It's good to just... keep her mind in check for a little while.
She offers her hands to him palms up, where they are dirty and torn. As he works, she glances around, taking in the surroundings that she hadn't noticed at all when she first got here. There is a longing in her heart when she looks at the Singularity again, the string that had pulled her before now being tugged again, but she ignores it in favor of watching Geralt again.
no subject
Being trapped inside the Horizon for a few weeks is one thing. He's experienced it, the disorientation it came with, the odd feeling of having lived another life that wasn't his. But being isolated in an alternate plane altogether is something else. He can see that she's all right, and he believes her. It's still difficult not to worry.
And he can't help wondering if there's yet more she's keeping from him, even now.
He finishes tucking in the edges of the cloth, though he continues to hold onto her hands. For a moment, he just takes her in—but they haven't much time to linger. They've more than overstayed their welcome out here, and night is rapidly descending.
"Can you stand?"
no subject
But she knows she is physically all right, in the immediate sense. She feels... stable. More whole than she felt before she left. As if something has been put back into its place. She nods again, then slowly rises to her feet. For a moment, her legs are a bit shaky, unsteady like a newborn deer. It's tough to say whether that comes from the general disorientation of being back in the real world, or whether it's the result of lying immobile for two and a half weeks. Her fingers tighten slightly around his, but she doesn't stumble or fall back down.
"My bag," she says, with a sense of sudden realization. She's not sure where it went, at least in relation to where they are now. "Did you find my bag?"
no subject
"I have it."
He found it circling the perimeter, close to the crater's edge—forgotten, perhaps, as she made her way to the Singularity. Lucky it didn't wind up past the threshold. He examined it briefly, but it's otherwise untouched, tucked safely beneath a shaded overhang. He retrieves it now, passing it to her.
He brushes back some of her tangled hair behind her ear. A beat before he asks: "What was your way home?"
She'd have planned one, undoubtedly the same way she arrived here. Whether he can come with her is another question. Ideally, he can, but the fact is, as much as he doesn't want her traversing the desert alone, he knows she's capable of it. If she must. As long as he can be sure she's on her way home, near enough to the city, he'll be...she'll be all right.
no subject
Her eyes narrow slightly; there's a degree of fuzziness she's still getting past, particularly regarding the events immediately preceding her unconsciousness. But she quickly recovers, remembers exactly what she needs to do. "Another portal stone," she says, reaching into the depths of her pocket. "I brought a second piece of miranolite... to... "
Her words slow. She reaches into the other pocket, then back to the first. A look of horror begins to spread over her face as she withdraws her hand, trepidation palpable in the air. When she opens her fist, there are just dozens of tiny, glistening shards in her palm. The instability of the first portal took its toll even on the stone she hadn't touched yet.
"No," she whispers, staring down at her hand, at the glittering fragments. Her heightened emotions immediately cloud her mind, panic that she can't quite keep a handle on at the moment. Her heart starts racing again. "No, I didn't -- this one wasn't even -- none of the others ever -- "
There's a sense of desperation when she whips her head from one side to the other, as if she might suddenly see something new. Just because she was prepared to walk back doesn't mean she wants to, and everything is still so raw for her right now, she can't make herself calm down or think rationally.
no subject
Right. A second portal stone. He doesn't know how they work, only that they're enchanted from a unique material—and heavily controlled by the Cities to prevent unwanted spies—but Julie seems to, and Geralt trusts she knows her magic well. It isn't until he hears her heart skip a beat that he looks down, eyes sharp.
His gaze flicks from the shards of stone in her hand to the alarm written over her face.
It's not being stuck that concerns him. It's how her magic might react this close to the Singularity if her emotions spike too high.
"Julie." He takes her arm gently. It isn't ideal, but they have a horse and she has him. They'll make it back. "It's okay. I'm right here. We'll go together." A thought seems to strike him. He hesitates. "Unless..."
Unless.
He glances at the expanse of desert that spiral into the distance. The portal stones are not really her magic. A part of him is almost surprised to see her make them—but he supposes there was no one to teach her to open a portal using the raw form of Chaos she possesses. Still, what if she doesn't require a stone? Ciri hadn't. And Julie's abilities have always felt closer to Ciri's than anyone else's.
no subject
While she's not really tuning him out, she is splitting her attention. Maybe it's the isolation, maybe it's abrupt transitions between metaphysical planes, maybe it's just the closeness of the Singularity's overwhelming emotions mirroring her own, but whatever the case, Julie is struggling to keep herself on an even keel. She grabs for his hand and squeezes until her knuckles are white.
It's his hesitation that cuts through the fog of her other thoughts. Geralt is usually decisive; he doesn't exactly spitball ideas very often. "Unless?" she echoes, following his line of sight but seeing nothing. Within the next breath, though, she puts it together. Her brow knits.
Learning to make the stone had been hard enough on its own. She had read some theory about portals, making them the way Academic mages do, but that had seemed almost as foreign as the stone did. The steps and the movements and precision of it all. At least the stone had easier, more concrete steps to it. And if there's anyone left in Abraxas who can use Wild Magic to make portals, then Julie has never heard of them.
"I don't know how," she says slowly, quietly. Which she is aware has never really stopped her before, but. "I never tried to."
no subject
Though at least she isn't the only petite pink-haired woman in the city anymore. Perhaps that'll help.
But there's no telling what this portal will do or where it'll go if she creates one. Even so, he wants to trust her magic. And he's willing to put his faith in its unpredictability when the alternative is that their disappearances will most certainly be noticed if they remain in the desert much longer.
He reaches for her other hand, focusing on her once more.
"You can," he replies. Her strength lies in creation. She's been conjuring objects and elements from the beginning. "You can make nearly anything from nothing. A portal is just a door. You've walked through dozens of them."
no subject
Geralt has believed in her more than anyone else in her entire life. Including herself, at times. Her heartbeat picks up again.
Releasing his hands, she cups his cheeks and kisses him firmly. "I love you," she says when she pulls back, and it's declarative because she does not know what's about to happen. There's a huge spectrum of possibilities, from nothing at all to violent death. But it's clear in the way she turns and walks away that she has made up her mind and steeled herself, that she has made a decision and intends to see it through.
She keeps going for a bit, until she deems herself far away enough from Geralt and Roach to keep them safe from risk of immediate explosions, at least. With a sharp inhale, she glances back over her shoulder at them, at the Singularity, then looks into the distance and breathes out again as she closes her eyes. Her hands glow pink when she forms an image in her mind: the little oasis, the waterfall where they'd picnicked. Where they'd gone after the horrible hippo thing. She draws the ripples in the water, the blades of grass at the edges of the pool. Hears the sound of the fall.
I need to go there. Take me there. Just... open the door.
no subject
He squeezes Julie's hand gently before letting her move ahead. Then he steps back next to Roach. As a precaution, he wraps the reins around his hand to keep her from bolting. He doesn't anticipate Julie will be able to accurately pinpoint where the portal takes them, but it matters none. She need only to bring them close enough—closer, at least, than where they are now.
Of course, creating the portal is merely the start. Entering it successfully together, is another matter.
First, he waits, watching. His fingers curl around his medallion as the silver chain shivers. The atmosphere crackles with energy. Perhaps some of it is drawn from the power of the Singularity, a shadow looming large over them. Hard to say if being close to it will help or hinder in this case, but the risk is one they've chosen to take.
And the portal does open. Slowly, maybe erratically to begin with, but a bright fissure forms as her magic takes shape.
no subject
Her concentration grows deeper and deeper as the minutes pass, grows more intense. In her mind, as she struggles to force open the portal, she can feel the Singularity's building desperation for her to stay. For her to turn around and walk back into the crater. And Jesus Christ, she wants to. She wants to build a house in the safety of the crater and live in the shadow of the monolith forever with her horse and her rabbit and her family, but she can't, and it hurts. It hurts both of them.
As she fights to harness the power to create a portal from nothingness, she also fights with her ever present companion. It does not understand why she has to go, and she cannot do more than withstand its waves of pain and anger, like facing down a tsunami on her own. Between the two of them, dark clouds build overhead, accompanied by the sound of rolling thunder and the crackle of lightning.
Julie's whole body trembles under the strain of her effort, but also with the surge of magic that she draws off the Singularity. More than she should, more than anyone should. Julie is human, human without even environmental exposure to magic beyond the past few years. There is no doubt that human bodies were not meant to channel so much power; much like when she fought the morbol, blood begins to trickle from her ears down the sides of her face. The rose colored aura that generally encases her hands seems to start traveling up her arms through her veins, glowing through her skin.
Please, please, please, she thinks desperately, wildly, and she doesn't even know who she's talking to. Every muscle in her body aches, including many that she doesn't even think should be involved here. Her eyes, screwed shut, open as a scream seems to force its way out of her lungs entirely unbidden, squeezed out by the tightness of the rest of her; blood seeps from the corners of each eye, the whites stained crimson with burst blood vessels.
The vault door lifts on its hinges. Swings open. The portal sticks, at least for the moment -- the other side is not the waterfall she envisioned. It's actually much closer to the mines Geralt will soon become more deeply acquainted with, but the glimpse through the gap is clearly more of a Cadens area landscape than anywhere else.
Julie falls limp to the ground with a whimper. The portal's wavering edges hint that her hold on it is highly tenuous.
no subject
"Julie!" He takes a step forward. The magic bursts through the air, the portal swirling open. He grabs Roach, bags already strapped to her, and bends down to scoop Julie up, too. He gets Julie into the portal first, in case it slams shut, then skids through at her heel with Roach. A crushing pressure builds behind his eyes. Falling through feels like a drop right off a sheer cliff. His stomach lurches.
The portal spits him out on a scraggly tree. Branches snap under his weight. He hits the ground and promptly vomits onto the sand. Fuck. His head spins.
He pushes to his feet, whirling around to search for Julie. Is she here? He hasn't any fucking idea if they'd have been sent through to the same place. Roach is with him, whinnying nervously in the distance, but he can't catch sight of Julie yet. A spike of fear forms sharp at the base of his spine.
"Julie?" Shit. She must be nearby. He hopes she's nearby. "Julie!"
no subject
Her pulse pounds in her ears, an erratic whooshing noise that drowns out everything else. There's a dull burning that's coursing through her veins with it, like the painkiller she had in an IV once after she had her tonsils out. When she tries to roll a little, the sand sticks to her bloody face and neck, catches on her eyelashes and lips.
Over the rush of her own heartbeat in her head, there's a voice. Her name. She struggles to gain some kind of control over her own body, to make it obey, but does little more than sort of flail a little in place.
"Ger... Ger...," she tries to call back weakly, her voice breaking into a gasp for air before she can get out the second syllable both times. Instead, she settles for, "Here."
Here is not far, maybe a hundred yards or so from where he landed. She doesn't seem to have fallen on anything dangerous, no rocks or plants, but the damage the spell did (or possibly just the amount of magic she channeled directly from the Singularity to perform it) is enough to negate this small stroke of luck.
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He exhales, glancing up to gauge where they are. The stars twinkle against the darkened sky. Judging from the sand, they haven't landed anywhere foreign. The path is familiar, as is the shape of the cliffs. To the north, he can just make out the sloping ridges that border the Singularity's crater. Sharper peaks rise from the west. It puts them not in the middle of the Badlands but closer to its edge along where the main roads lead inwards to the mines.
"I know where we are." He wipes the blood from her cheek with his thumb. "It worked."
At a cost he'd rather not have her pay again, but they are here. In one piece. All that's left is to make the journey home—roughly two, maybe three days. Closer to three, he estimates, since he isn't travelling alone.
"We'll camp here." Night has overtaken evening, and though Geralt occasionally rides straight through the night, that's less of an option when Julie is with him. Temperatures are already dropping. She needs to eat. In the morning, they can continue onward.
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He says that it worked, and she answers with the weakest yay that's ever been uttered. Managing to lift one hand, she puts it on his arm, "Not sure I'm... much good for a tent right now," she mumbles, her tone as light as possible, given the possibility. She can barely keep her eyes open -- she feels like she's been drained of every ounce of energy she has.
She gives a feeble laugh, turning her face toward him. And then something unexpected happens. (Well, something else unexpected.)
Seemingly without any intention or energy, her hands glow again. Much more in line with their usual. A few feet away, a large tent builds itself from nothing, the canvas unfurling in elegant sheets. Inside is not just a pile of loose cushions; there is a fully formed and decorative bedroom suite, complete with light fixtures full of floating magical light balls. A properly built fire roars cheerily into existence outside. What had taken her strain and time to do a year ago now happens with her barely conscious.
So maybe there are some very, very mild perks to overdosing on magic.
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Uncertain.
Still, it's not an answer he'll find any time soon. Slipping his arm under her legs, he scoops her up and carries her into the tent. It's far less discreet than he'd prefer, but there's no helping that it's here. He imagines the materials will fade with her magic when they leave.
While she rests, he goes through their supplies. He slips the broken stones into the bottom of his pack, keeping the evidence out of hers. They have enough water. At least the weather has cooled from the sizzling summers. The only thing missing is food—which he takes care of in short order. By the time she stirs, she'll find Geralt sitting on the edge of the bed with a steaming bowl and a spoon stuck in what looks like a thick rabbit stew. Hardly a banquet, but it's food, and it smells decent.
Right now, he wants to be sure she's all right before they do anything else. Or talk about anything else.
"Feeling better?"
please know i am deeply ashamed at how many typos are in that last tag
The tent is... certainly not discreet. Honestly, it's even less discreet than what Julie would conjure left to her own full faculties -- she isn't stupid. But all of this seems to be coming from somewhere deeper than her ordinary consciousness, so she can only hope it will end when she passes out and that will be the end of it. As he walks her through the tent, small embellishments keep appearing. A lantern, a vase, a small dish with a cone of incense gently smoking. It's all reminiscent of the way she collects trinkets, magpie-style, in her Horizon loft as well as her real home.
She sinks into the bed she's accidentally made and is asleep almost instantly. Maybe it's strange, to be essentially unconscious for so long, only to immediately fall asleep again. It isn't really the same, is her instinct, but she also isn't really accounting for what she did to herself. Concerning or not, he has ample time to take stock of the situation and hunt down a rabbit, because she sleeps like the dead for several hours straight.
When she does wake, it's with a quiet groan. The ache has had its time to set in, and now her whole body protests her effort to shift and to sit up. She rubs blearily at the side of her head, where there is dried blood and sand still caked in her hairline, under her earlobe. Her response is a tired, scratchy grunt. It doesn't sound entirely intentional on her part. Squinting at him, she croaks out, "No."
But she doesn't feel worse, exactly, so that's probably the best she can hope for.
<3
The small basin of water remains. Can't complain. They didn't land near a readily available source, and he knows there won't be any for a couple of days.
In the distance, the howl of a desert wolf cuts through the air. Unlike the quieter daytime, there's a constant scurrying of feet and paws from lizards and rodents, digging up loose rocks and tunnelling after prey.
No monsters, though.
He passes her the bowl of food, followed by a small vial. "This should help."
He's taken to carrying standard potions in his bag—the kind brewed for the average human. Given the times he finds himself hunting with a companion these days, it only seems appropriate. He learnt his lesson after a snake slithered out of their cooking pot and Jaskier knocked his head on a rock.
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"What is it?" she asks, voice a bit less raspy. She doesn't wait for a response before she uncorks it and downs the contents. She knows Geralt well enough to know he wouldn't carry anything made by anyone besides himself or Nadine.
For a moment, Julie just sort of blinks down at the stew, the bowl balanced in her lap atop her folded legs. She's not hungry; her body hurts too much and her mind is still too muddled to focus on the fact that she technically hasn't eaten anything in nearly three weeks now. Through no fault of Geralt's, the stew does nothing to stimulate her appetite.
She eats a spoonful anyway.
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It's not the most potent thing available; Nadine knows not to give him anything that contains a sedative quality, which limits how much they can do, but it's effective. It'll let her ride easier in the morning, at least.
He's quiet while she eats. He does not help himself to any; either he's already eaten earlier or he's chosen to let her have her fill first, but regardless, the only thing he busies himself with is stoking the fire to keep the chill at bay and keeping one eye on Julie. She is eating, however little, which he'll take as a promising sign.
Eventually, he returns to her side with a damp cloth and begins to wipe the blood crusted along her temple, under her eyes.
He's not yet told Nadine they've left the crater, though he has told Jaskier. He wants to see how Julie is doing come sunrise before he gives Nadine an estimate of when they'll return and what to expect. She's been fretting, and he hasn't got enough answers at the moment.
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Geralt comes back and she lets out a deep sigh, closing her eyes as he wipes her face. When she opens them again, her sclera are still scarlet from broken blood vessels. It hasn't yet entered her mind to contact anyone else. At the moment, it's hard for her to think outside of this tent, like the world doesn't exist beyond the shadows of the flickering fire on the canvas.
While he cleans her face, she watches him in exhausted silence. It's not until he's done that she says anything, and when she does, her voice is soft. Pitiful, in a way that's too obviously drained to be anything but honest. She doesn't have the energy to play any mind games.
"Are you mad at me?"
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He is not owed every piece of her. There are things about him, parts of his life, that he sees no need to burden her with, either, or isn't ready to do so. It's taken him a long time to be as open as he is with her. He understands that she's the same.
Perhaps it isn't entirely about the deception. It's that he'd have helped her if he knew, at least made sure she'd come home safe, a choice she didn't let him make. And he can't help thinking, what might happen the next time she searches for answers alone and he slept blissfully unaware until the morning? What if she never returns?
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks. It's not accusatory. He just wants to understand. She said she wanted to protect him and he believes that's a part of it, but— "Were you afraid I'd stop you?"
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Unlike usual, her speech isn't getting more frenetic; this is something she has thought quite deeply about for a long time. Julie is aware that Geralt views the Singularity with a different suspicion than most other people. That he fears it will one day take her for its own in some way. Swallow her up or ghost her away somehow. She wishes she could definitively say otherwise, but she can't.
It's impossible to hold back the bittersweet little laugh that bubbles out of her throat. She supposes it's a laugh or cry conversation. "And that's all 'cause you're such a good man, and no one's ever cared about me as much as you do in my whole life. You'd've stopped me 'cause you'd be right to."
Somewhere in her thoughts, her stare has fallen to her lap, and she looks up again. "I was never tryin' to leave you. The plan was always to come back to you. I just... I need answers."
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"When I found Ciri, she possessed a power unlike any I've ever seen. The sort that could break entire worlds apart. I don't understand it to this day. I did fear for her. I've tried to protect her, and I always will. But...she deserves her answers. As do you."
The Singularity is dangerous. Like the ocean or a vast mountainside, it is not something to trifle with until you can learn it, and so few of them can. The only people closely tied to it are Julie and Ciri. Ciri will never go near it. They've both agreed that's for the best, given that he suspects Ciri's Chaos rivals what the Singularity is capable of. Like the monolith, she's a source, too. As much as he believes Ciri is safe in this sphere for now, there may come a time when she cannot coexist with the Singularity. It's impossible to predict.
He doesn't know if Julie is possibly a source herself. There must be a reason she was called to Flagg, but she wasn't the only one. Still, she had said it once herself. Something...susceptible. To demons, to otherworldly forces. He doesn't believe that's true in the way she meant it—it's not a weakness or a failing on her part—but like Ciri, it's possible there's something unique about the way she connects to magic, to the Singularity, that makes her as vulnerable to it as she is powerful.
Gently, he lays his hand over hers. "You don't have to hide something that's a part of you. And you're not alone anymore. At least let me help prepare you for your adventure next time."
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Julie did not grow up in a world that prepared her for any of this. She does not understand how magic works, what the limits should be and what boundaries she is or isn't breaking. And it is maddening to suddenly have this... something new and intrinsic that she cannot explain properly and that everyone seems to think she should fear down to her core. It often makes her feel like they fear her, or would if they knew what she could do. And that's just the other Summoned. God help her if the locals ever figure her out.
And Geralt, bless his heart, is not always the best at making her feel like this connection she has so little control over is anything other than a perilous burden. A burden for him, because he thinks he has to fix the problems and right the wrongs and be constantly on guard for his loved ones. And she knows it frustrates him, that this is something he can't do for her. So it's easier to only ever bring it up when she has to, to hide the things she knows he won't approve of.
There's a thickness in her throat that makes it hard to swallow after he says that. She leans her head onto his shoulder and turns her hand to press her palm against his. "I'm not helpless," she mumbles, aiming for playfully petulant. A degree of levity so she doesn't lose her mind. "I coulda gotten back on my own. It just woulda sucked."
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He can't explain it. Not really. Maybe it's simply too ingrained in him.
"I know." He rubs his thumb over the side of her hand and nudges her gently, matching her lighter tone. "Doesn't mean you have to. I needed a few days away from Jaskier, besides."
He means it, though. He knows Julie can take care of herself. She's lived through more than most. She has powerful magic at her fingertips. It's only that, he doesn't want her to believe she must do it alone when she has others around her. He isn't the only one; there's Nadine, Jaskier, Ciri, Sam. He wants her to be safe, but more than that, he wants her to feel safe, too. With him, with the people who love her.
It's complicated when so much of this would be resolved if they needn't fear what the world might think. But that's something that'll never change. Danger will always follow those who aren't well-understood.
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She loves him so much and she knows logically that he has said otherwise. But it's a hard idea to unlearn. And maybe he's hit the nail on the head with what he said. That she can't let go of the idea that she needs to do it alone. She's trying. There was a time not that long ago that she wouldn't have even left notes, she would have just disappeared.
With a quiet snort, she squeezes his hand and rocks with his weight bumping against her. "Thank you for comin'," she says softly. "And don't take this the wrong way, but do you spoon with Roach every night? Like, all night? 'Cause you smell like you're more horse than man right now."
She does not move, and she doesn't say it with any particularly deep disgust. Not that she likes it, but she's used to it, enough that it doesn't bother her. (But it would still be nicer if he didn't smell like he lives in a stall.)
wrap soon? 🎀
His eyebrow lifts, deadpan. "Only when the nights are lonely."
He was riding Roach on and off for the past few weeks, and there were no rivers to wash in around the crater. So. He likely does smell like horse, and blood, and several other unpleasant notes. He'll bathe when they return to the city. Probably. Barring any immediate complications.
He's already considering how best to approach the gates. They shouldn't walk through together, at the very least. But that's a problem for the coming days.
"Come on." He brushes her hair behind her ear. "Get some more rest. If we leave at dawn, we'll make good time."
🎀
"Well, don't let me get in the way of your cuddles," she chuckles, tilting up to kiss his cheek before she slips back down to lie in the pillows. Even just the effort of holding herself upright is a lot; lying down, a sense of relief overtakes her almost immediately.
Tucking one arm under her head, she yawns and nods. "Okay. You eat."