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
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."