Geralt z Rivii (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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abraxaslogs2024-03-10 12:48 pm
gynvael) wrote in abraxaslogs2024-03-10 12:48 pm
[ CLOSED ] eyes black, big paws
Who: Geralt + Various
When: March
Where: Cadens, Horizon
What: Catch-all
Warnings: Standard Witcher canon; nsfw marked.
and it's poison in his blood;
we took you right from your mother's womb;
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discontinued | quantifies | starters below.
When: March
Where: Cadens, Horizon
What: Catch-all
Warnings: Standard Witcher canon; nsfw marked.
and it's poison in his blood;
we took you right from your mother's womb;
no subject
[No, he's not being dramatic about it. But he does bat his wings about until Geralt puts the dish of ale down low enough he can perch on the edge of it and -- perhaps not politely -- sip up bits of it with his strange bird tongue.
Yes, he could turn back. But there is a period after he tries a new form in which Jaskier tries to stay in it. To get accustomed to all its new bits and bobs. Admittedly, flying as an owl is not the same as the sharp-winged kestrel. It's much quieter, and requires a hint of finesse.
And he's fluffier. Which is annoying, now it's pointed out.
Jaskier goes still, his written words a hint slower.]
I did. Bleobheris is fine, for the most part -- luckily, it's one of the biggest things around -- but it's wrecked havoc on the glade. All the grasses and roots have torn up, and some of the smaller branches have broken from the tree. Moglad told me was almost crushed by one, if Mogworth hadn't saved him.
[He pauses again, large gold eyes turning to Geralt.]
And I found something. Something I thought I had long buried under Bleobheris, but... it was there, at the entrance, waiting for me. The stain of that god.
[He doesn't even wish to write her name. He wishes not to remember that at all.]
no subject
He sobers when Jaskier describes the object's return. ]
Mine, as well. [ Appeared in the mud and melted snow. What does it mean? A sign? A coincidence? What is the connection between the heralds that emerged over a year ago and this entity? ] It seems we were to be reminded.
[ He unfolds his arms. None of this sits easy with him. Ciri it's not the only one with a magical connection anymore. Jaskier has one, too. The bard's is not as volatile as hers, but...it is powerful. More so than one might assume at first glance.
He thinks about what Jaskier said in Ikorr. About the gods. The arcana. How the pieces slot together. ]
Some see the gods as adversaries. [ A threat to be confronted. Nero comes to mind. ] I'm not sure it's so simple.
no subject
[He should like to. It took months to convince that baker he wasn't an insane man. Months still to even be able to purchase buns from him again. He looks back down to the liquor, some instinct in the back of his mind demanding he step inside it and flutter about. It is, after all, typically always hot around here, and their box keeps drinks relatively cool.
He is not going to be doing this in front of Geralt. He would never hear the end of it.]
I'm sure it's easier to group them all together. But much like us, I believe they all have their own desires. Personalities. Desire to use us, desire, perhaps, even to lend aid. [He stretches his wings, sitting down top of his folded legs.] Though once again, I think we're on the end of a shit stick. We're merely prepping for another disaster.
no subject
Likely. [ He shrugs, leaning back in his seat with his mug. ] As long as the storms cease shortly. I've delayed at least three contracts.
[ Have they more to worry for the future? Yes, but until they know further what might be coming, he hasn't much he can do. The Singularity and these strange entities that roam the earth...he's beginning to think maybe forcing them to reveal themselves is the answer. But that isn't something he wants to pursue recklessly.
In the meantime, life goes on. He still has work to fulfill. And he needs sleep. The mountains are not the kindest in a storm. ]
I need to wash. And you're covered in sand. [ He holds out his hand for Jaskier to come with him. ]
no subject
[Jaskier is afraid of more serious things -- like his bloody gryphon being gripped by a whirlwind and thrown into the abyss of the desert. Things that were perfectly likely to happen. Things like that god returning. Things like Jaskier realizing he has no power to stop them, if they do return. To stop them from exerting their... influence.
But it is hardly in his nature to worry endlessly about the future. Mostly he worries about things as they happen, especially when they're particularly awful. He has more expansive things to worry about. The gods' interference is simply one more obstacle.
He chirps, which -- unfortunately, sounds about as high pitched as a songbird, and far from a low, dignified hoot. It's not terrible to be covered in sand when one has feathers, but he's going to truly regret it once he shifts back. So he hops onto Geralt's hand, claws gripping the curve of his palm, twitching this way and that.] You're not actually worried about the gods, are you? Because that would make me, er, a bit concerned, and I'd rather not be concerned.
no subject
Once Jaskier sits in his palm, Geralt transfers him to his shoulder. The soft feathers tickle his ear.
Is he? It isn't accurate to say one way or the other. He pushes open the door sectioning off the copper tub. ]
Gods, war, the Singularity... [ He puts Jaskier on the edge of the tub, then strips off his leathers, his shirt. ] What comes will come.
[ He sinks into the steaming water and stretches out his leg as far as he can. He rubs his thumb into the muscle of his thigh, where the bone aches. They have made this sphere their home. He has no wish to run from its threats. Wherever they go, they will face something. If not gods, the Wild Hunt. If not power hungry monarchs in Thorne, then power hungry emperors in Nilfgaard.
He isn't here because it's safe. He's here because no matter the dangers, Ciri will never be the sole target the world pursues. Not how she was on the Continent. ]
What talk have you heard from the townsfolk?
[ About the storms, the Summoned. He knows Jaskier frequents every tavern and street corner. ]
no subject
Then again, he does invest it. In clothes, mostly. And Nadine's new shop.
Jaskier fluffs himself up.] Don't get all fatalistic on me now.
[He doesn't argue the point. There's nothing they can really do about it as of right now. If it comes... it comes. Like the storms, they will weather it. Things can be changed. They've already broken free of the path Destiny originally set.
Jaskier carefully flutters over the surface of the water before safely landing on Geralt's unharmed knee, carefully ducking under the water and shaking himself vigorously as the wet whips about. He does it over and over again, a bit of an instinct carried over by all his times being a songbird.
It feels good, all right?]
Nothing particularly illuminating, only that this weather's not unprecedented, but is unnatural. It's gotten people missing. The worst of people others notice missing, I mean. [He thinks the words a tad more slowly so they send in a way that isn't annoying to read when one's relaxing in a tub.
Or when he's dunking his head in the water.
He stills, moving his feet a bit higher so they're not standing in water.]
Do you recall when we came back from Ikorr... in the portal. Something happened there. I'm not one to be superstitious, as you know, but this time... this feels like an omen.
no subject
So mostly what they've all discerned, then. Unnatural. How long before the Summoned bear the brunt of the blame in the eyes of the townsfolk? ]
Mm. [ He lathers the soap. ] A warning, more like. I think we were being spoken to.
[ And that's troubling, in and of itself. What does it mean if these entities take a closer interest in them? And why? The Singularity has always been a point of concern, but the gods have been more distant. The last time they made themselves known, it was the Heralds—and those were...hm. It felt like a response.
This does not. This feels like a greeting. A beckoning.
A long silence passes. Then: ] I'm no stranger to forces beyond. But I've not ever been the target.
[ He's only ever been involved in an effort to protect Ciri. Now, it's...it isn't that he wishes for otherwise. Of course not. Only that he isn't meant to be anything of note. He's a Witcher, nothing more. And yet here, on this sphere, he's been marked as not only something different, but almost special. They all have.
He doesn't like the feeling. ]
no subject
[He shakes himself off, fluffing up, sending tiny drops of water in an arc. Then he flutters up to perch on the edge of the tub.]
I'm not sure there is an intentional target here. But I do know... I may have, ah, accidentally spoken to the same entity. At the party. Completely accidentally.
[He may as well bring up his suspicions now. In case things get... stranger.] To be fair, it was entirely Lucifer's fault. He was eating insects off the floor and being... eccentric.
wrap 🎀
[ Somehow, he's more surprised Lucifer and Jaskier have not crossed paths before this, but then, Lucifer has often kept to his side of Thorne.
Although—did Jaskier partake in the insect eating? Geralt stares at the round little owl for a long moment, as if entertaining the question. Or the image, perhaps. It would not be the first time Jaskier has simply. Put things. In his mouth.
He decides not to ask, leaning back against the edge of the tub. ] Tell me more about this conversation after I've another drink.
[ It's not as though hearing it now will make a difference. He knows Ciri received her own encounter, too. For now, he's tired, and he's willing to put aside talk of gods and whispers until the morning. ]