abraxaslogs | (Open & Closed)

Entry tags:

(Open & Closed)

Who: Cid & YOU!
When: Post-Event
Where: Free Cities (Cadens)
What: Post-event catch-all
Warnings: Canon-typical warnings (see the bottom of the page)

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[ After everything that's happened so recently, the simplicity of hunting is a boon. Most of the snares he'd set before their little excursion into the future had remained empty, or otherwise had their bounty stolen by more enterprising hands and fortunate animals — not that anything would have lasted the weeks he'd been gone. Cid sets himself to re-setting the empty snares, not too far from the well-traveled trails. Even with just a hunting knife for company, he doesn't worry too much about looking after himself. (Not that he doesn't miss the dog on days like this.)

When riders come through the trail, it's easy enough for a single person to stay out of sight if need be. Cid usually opts to do just that, but he catches the shape of the rider's cloak and the flash of silver hair, and it's just familiar enough for him to hesitate. He takes a few steps toward the trail before he can think better of it, stopping just at the edge without getting in the path. ]

Geralt? Is that you, you old wolf? [ As the man gets closer, he realizes his mistake. It's hard to imagine how he mistook this one for anything other than a man, with a face like that — although those eyes aren't quite as human as he'd expect.

He tucks the hunting knife back into a sheath near his belt; the man doesn't seem concerned, but he is well-armed, and Cid isn't looking for trouble. ] Thought you might be someone I knew. Apologies friend, the heat must be getting to me.

[ He doesn't look away, still frowning and slightly puzzled. He can't shake the odd familiarity of this man, but he certainly doesn't recognize him. ]

Edited 2024-05-14 12:32 (UTC)

[ Cid is restless. After they'd all woken up in that crater, he'd holed up in his inn room for a day or so to mull things over, trying to get his head settled again. When that hadn't helped, he'd gone out and tried to make himself useful somewhere. He's spent three whole days trying to do something else before he washes up on Viktor's doorstep again. Even in the middle of the day, the doors were still locked, but Cid has never let a thing like that stop him. He does knock, in his defense. He picks the lock after Viktor doesn't answer and lets himself in without a fuss. ]

Viktor! [ Never let it be said that Cid's bellow couldn't reach the entire deck of a ship in a storm. Since he's already broken in, it seems like the least he can do is ensure that Viktor knows he's not a thief, though he can't imagine that this is more reassuring. ] I'll be getting some work done, if it's all the same to you. You're welcome to join me.

[ He sets a basket down on the tiny kitchen counter. He's brought a few fresh things for the pantry, since he doubts that Viktor has done any restocking for himself. As far as he knows, the man isn't a machine anymore, and still needed to do things like eat. ]

( ooc: feel free to assume they might have run into each other once or twice during the event if that's useful. if you want to discuss further event details to handwave i'm still open to that too — just DM this journal or message me @ themightysra on plurk/discord. )

[ For a few weeks after their return, Cid can be found around Cadens; rather than helping with the repairs, he's opted to check in on people who don't have so much as a house to be repaired. He'll be dropping off meals or what coin he can spare, which isn't ever enough; he'd certainly welcome anyone who seemed interested in helping. If meal delivery isn't their thing, they might find him in the hills between cities, setting snares for small game or collecting anything he's managed to catch. The only weapon he's carrying is a hunting knife, but there aren't usually bandits this close to the cities... right?

Once Rio Enterprises is properly open again, Cid can be found inside throughout the day. He'll be pouring over diagrams and making adjustments, inspecting parts, and working on various projects. He doesn't greet anyone who comes through the door, but they might be unfortunate enough to be suddenly roped into whatever he's working on, whether they actually work here or not. Did you NOT want to stand there with a bag full of tools and hand him things? Well, that's rough buddy.

If you're fortunate or assertive enough to avoid that particular fate, Cid is also happy to walk anyone through the more approachable steps of whatever he's building and teach them how to do some of it themselves; despite how brusque he can be normally, he's a particularly patient teacher. He might ask for a hand with the nuances of New Magic at times, even so — his memories are fuzzy, and the details elude him often.

Toward the evening, he'll break away from work entirely. He'll approach anyone who's still hanging around the shop, wiping the grease off his hands as he speaks. ] That's good enough for a day's work. Up for a drink?

[ Cid can be found at any of the nearby taverns in the evening, usually drinking and chatting with the locals. He's curious about the rumors of soldiers moving toward Aquilla and what people think of it, but he's careful of how he phrases his questions, keeping them superficially casual. Should he recognize anyone he knows from their recent journey into godhood, or even just a fellow summoned in general, he'll wave them over (or saunter over to wherever they are). ] We haven't met before, have we? Can't be sure of bloody anything lately.

[ Rio Enterprises most valuable employee has been out for a week or two, having come down with sudden vampiric banes after eight centuries.

The door to the workshop will open as Cid is in the middle of whatever project he happens to be working on. Walking inside is a pale man dressed in rather fine clothes - clearly not here for work. Cid might notice his pointed ears, or maybe even the sharpened fangs when he opens his mouth to speak, both eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. ]

Um - hello there... what are you doing?

[ Touching everything.

After a moment he squints as he looks Cid over without any attempt at subtly.

Is he supposed to know who this is? With a deep sigh he looks over Cid's shoulder and yells: ]

- ooohhhh Viktor? I wish you would let me knoooow when you've invited strange men to touch your tools...

[ Between the storms and an unexpected excursion to the Singularity, Roach has been trapped in the stable for far too long. So taking her out is one of the first things Geralt does. It gives him time to think, anyhow. Jaskier's aggressive foray into pastries is wearing on him. And truthfully, returning to the desert, dry and sweltering, feels like shit after his memories of being anywhere but here.

He misses the forest.

The figure on the trail gives him a slight pause. He slows his horse a touch—but the voice that calls out to him is familiar. Hard to forget it. He draws closer, curious. It's strange, to both recognize people and yet not. He keeps seeing them with shadows of wings and starlit shine.

Seems Cid is going through the same. It takes him a moment to realize they never did meet without his wolf shroud. ]

I am. [ He dismounts, careful to avoid the snare by his feet. His gaze roams over the other man. Funny. They should be strangers. They've never spoken in reality. And yet. ] You've lost a few legs.

Edited 2024-05-15 11:44 (UTC)

[Viktor, despite his penchant to work far more than any human should, has been known to close down Rio operations on occasion. It's usually when he simply does not want to deal with the interpersonal aspects of having employees and running a business, neither of which sound very appealing to him coming out of their shared, 800-year hallucination. It's easier, as always, to dive back into his projects (now three weeks behind) and do his best to insulate himself from the world outside his workshop.

Suffice to say he ignores the first knock. And the second. But soon enough he hears the sound of someone tooling around with the lock on his door, and that is a little more difficult to let slide. He's slow to get up on a good day, and Cid is already inside before he manages to haul himself off his stool. The volume with which Cid announces himself gives Viktor a full-body cringe. He is simply not equipped to deal with this right now.]

We're closed. You have the week off.

[Not that he expects that to deter him, given the fact that he seems to have brought groceries, but he has to try.]

Now I have to replace the lock.

[ It makes as much sense as anything, he supposes. He'd always found his own god form... unsettling, though it was no more uncomfortable than an old pair of boots. Geralt had just seemed to fit in the skin of a wolf, as if a wolf was what he'd always been. (Cid had rather liked the look, if he was being honest — not that this one is anything to sigh about.)

As he steps forward to meet Geralt, he huffs at the words, smiling. ] I have, aye. And you're just a bit less furry than I remember you. You'll have to introduce me to your barber, he's done a fine job. [ He taps the center of Geralt's chest with the back of his hand. An overly familiar gesture perhaps, but Cid hardly thinks twice about it. He's always been the handsy sort, and they didn't know each other so well that he thinks he needs to be too fussed. ]

Replaced me already, I see. [ He nods toward the horse. ] Who's this?

[ It seems an easier thing to begin with than untangling the snare of false history... and it isn't as if he's not curious. He understands that horses are as common as chocobos, but that doesn't make the beasts any less strange. ]

Contract says I can work whenever I want.

[ The contract might very well not say that at all. Does Cid even have a contract? Unclear.

He's not even looking up from putting the groceries away in the little kitchenette. ]

Stop your fussing, I'll replace the lock on the way out. Do you want any tea? I don't know about you, but I've been sleeping like shit...

[ His lips twitch ever so slightly. Yes. He did shed a significant amount, even if his hair remains as untamed as usual.

The camaraderie doesn't feel out of place—though perhaps Geralt, too, is accustomed to those who grow familiar quickly. He doesn't react to the gesture, only turning towards the mare. She's black, slimmer and lighter-footed for the sands than the sturdy breeds Cid would've seen him ride in their shared...vision.

Or whatever the fuck that was. He's not yet untangled everything that happened. ]

This is Roach. [ He tugs her forward. Her head dips, searching for a treat that isn't there. His expression is fond as he pats her neck. ] She's easier on the eyes.

[ But more prone to kicking, unlike Cid, who seemed resigned to children pulling on his tail. He wonders if the man misses them. The children who were never really his. There was a time Geralt experienced the same—a girl he thought he found, then lost when he awoke. How do you grieve someone created inside your mind? ]

Edited 2024-05-16 15:36 (UTC)

[ Cid isn't doing anything particularly exciting at the moment, just dismantling some spare respirators so that the parts can be reused. He's glad enough for a break in the monotony that he actually looks up when someone saunters in. ]

Living dangerously. [ He yawns into his fist. ] What's it look like?

[ Before their little shared nightmare, he'd have found the ears and the teeth to be passing strange. Now, he doesn't think he'll ever be surprised by anything again.

Still, he returns the scrutiny. Posh, this one. Doesn't seem like Viktor's usual type, but what does he know? ]

In his defense, I invited myself. He's just too nice to be rid of me. [ He rubs at the back of his neck, trying to roll some of the tension out of his shoulders before he pushes himself to his feet. ] He's all yours, if you can track him down — hell if I know where he's tucked himself away this time.

Or... [ He inclines his head. ] I can give you a hand, if you like. It'll be faster than all that.

[ It's funny, Cid finds himself matching that faint twitch of the lips to the way his ear might flick in his other form.

He'd never thought of how accustomed he'd become to the Hideaway and those who had been friends of the cause — friends of his. He hasn't been such a stranger to the world since he'd first stumbled off a ship and and into the Twins. Despite the strangeness of the circumstances, there's something nice about the easy familiarity.

He knows so little about Geralt beyond his character, but he knows that he cares for that horse. It certainly got more respect than Cid did from the gaggle of curious children... who weren't real. ]

For you, sure. [ He shoots back, amusement coloring his tone even as the smile fades. He rests his wrist against the hilt of his hunting knife, his gaze still on the horse. ] She's looking no worse for the wear. She's really the same one from before? [ Or is it after? Gods, he's not going to think about it. Geralt will know what he means. ] Is she your egi?

[ Cid's brow furrows. He understands that horses are like chocobos here, a common beast of burden, but that doesn't mean they can't be anything else in a land so rife with magic... Magic wielded by people who are neither Dominants nor Bearers. He hadn't understood why some of Geralt's abilities had been so familiar in the dream, but he remembers now.

Belatedly, he adds: ] — A magical construct, of sorts.

[ His what? Geralt looks at Roach, then at Cid. ]

It's only a name. [ She nudges him, impatient. With a sigh, he takes her reins to lead her onward. He trusts Cid will follow. ] I've had my share of horses. Their lifespans can't keep up with mine.

[ That, and—his horses walk the same path of a Witcher. Now and again, they fall to monsters or men. The first time he lost his mare, he was tasked with finding another and when he did, he'd thought: if Roach had been good enough for the old girl, then it was good enough for his next.

So Roach it remained. They all became a singular Roach in that dream, her coat eternally shifting between shades of chestnut and bay and black. He supposes it makes sense. Roach is simply the horse he happens to be riding at any given moment. How she appears or when he acquired her is irrelevant.

In any case, this particular Roach came from right here in Cadens. His first purchase, and still his most costly. Half the reason he slept on the floor for months. (The other half is because he didn't give a shit.) ]

There's no--nevermind.

[He has learned quickly that Cid will generally not be deterred, and it's often easier to just let him happen, rather than expend energy trying to get him to do what he wants. If he wants to stock the kitchenette, fine. Viktor will not be partaking, though if it's out of principle or because he still has no appetite is unclear.]

I have some.

[Viktor doesn't look up from his current activity (welding one thing to another thing, probably), and gestures vaguely to the mug nearby. It is most certainly cold.]

[ Astarion raises an eyebrow, but otherwise continues on into the workshop as if there'd never been an interruption in the first place. ]

That does sound right. [ oh-so-dryly. With a sigh he glances up, figuring Viktor is home and just RUDELY IGNORING HIM, but he's not going to continue yelling or otherwise make another attempt to get him to come downstairs. There's the slightest touch of concern in his expression, there and gone. ]

I thought he might like to go on a little excursion to the mining camp. Get some fresh - well, dusty desert air, but alas...

[ He shrugs, stepping around to some of those boxes with spare respirators, seemingly taking stock of things. He's trying to figure out what supplies to bring, both for himself and to deliver - it'll be nearly a two day trip without access to a portal. Ugh. ]

On your right. [ He waits until Viktor's done with the weld — despite his teasing, he's not one to shirk workshop safety — and then replaces his teacup with another. (It's not Viktor's tea, for once. Cid has picked up some local artisanal nonsense, an amber-colored liquid that smells of bergamot and honey.) A plate appears beside the teacup, laden with buns stuffed with meat and vegetables. Cid takes one for himself, stuffs it into his mouth, and wanders off to find something to work on.

He ends up at one of the drafting tables, unrolling a fresh sheet of paper. He actually finishes what he's eating before he launches into conversation, although he picks up as if there was never a lapse of silence between them. ] You know what your problem is, Viktor? You're too nice by far.

Mmm, I see. [ They're all Roach. Well, he supposes he has something else in common with the horse. Maybe he ought to take a page out of her book and stop fussing about the way Clive is so keen on keeping his name alive. It's a kindness, of a sort. A defiance of grief.

He falls into step, not particularly bothered to be leaving off his task. He's fairly sure there's a rest stop up this way, a turn off on the road for travelers to fill their water skins and rest their beasts before the roads become more treacherous — but that isn't for a while yet.

He studies Geralt, his brow furrowed further still. He hates to compare the man to Barnabas, but that's the first person he thinks of when it comes to a lifespan that far outpaces that of a human. He hopes that will be where the resemblance between them ends: their abilities, and not what they do with them. ]

You turn that scowl of yours on Death itself and tell it to piss right off, eh? [ He shakes his head, turning back toward the road. ] What is it that makes it so you live so long? After our little nap together... I can't say it was the most pleasant path to walk.

Edited 2024-05-17 21:36 (UTC)

[ A dry huff meets that assertion. ] Just because she stayed her hand once or twice doesn't mean I'm spared.

[ Geralt makes no effort to elaborate. Ciri tells him Death caught up with him, anyhow. Their vision says she let him slip through her grasp once more. What is the truth? A slow-aging body is only a fraction of the story. Most Witchers do not last as long as he has. He's watched each of them fall, all at once and then slower, steadier over the years, and yet. Here he is. Walking an entirely different continent altogether with something that's either a promise or a warning waiting ahead.

He has not decided which it is.

His gaze cuts to Cid for a moment before he looks back ahead. The sun glows like a white flame in between the cloud. Summer is approaching, which means travelling in the daytime will quickly become undesirable. ]

I've never found a path that was. But you seemed to do all right for yourself.

[ As far as he saw, at least. He won't claim to have known Cid well; their bond was through the reason Geralt would visit, not any long, personal talks. ]

[Well, at least he has basic laboratory safety. Viktor raises his elbows so as not to get in the way of the incoming tea cup and plate, and mumbles his thanks. The food gets a cursory look, and is then summarily ignored. For a long moment, he has hopes that things will continue in silence, but of course it isn't that easy. His answer is matter-of-fact.]

The problem is that I'm tired.

[The problem is not that he's too nice. It's that he's tired, and his unwillingness to fight about silly things like Cid bringing him food is mistaken for kindness.]

I have a finite amount of energy to expend every day, and I prefer not to waste it on trivialities.

Edited (Fixing some phrasing) 2024-05-18 18:36 (UTC)

[ Cid catches the slight change in his expression, if only because he's still trying to suss out exactly who this man is and what he wants here. Viktor isn't one to enjoy being fussed over, even on the occasions where it might very well be warranted. It seems like this man already knows that well. Poor sod.

A friend of Viktor's, then. A colleague, in fact. ]

He'll come around. Even Viktor can't stay holed up forever. [ Cid claps him on the shoulder as he moves past. He means for it to be comforting, though Cid's idea of casual contact isn't always well received. ] I could use a change of scenery, and I haven't been out to the camp yet. How long d'you think we'll be gone?

[ Cid is already taking things down from the shelves, sorting through what supplies they might need for the road.

Was he even really invited? It simply doesn't matter because Cid has now invited himself. ]

Edited 2024-05-18 15:01 (UTC)

No, I imagine not.

[ He waits, but no further explanation comes. Whether Geralt is even human is anyone's guess, but Cid doesn't let himself get too distracted by blind speculation. He's a man, like any other, regardless of whatever else he might be. In that sense, it's not truly important, but that doesn't mean he isn't curious.

Geralt turns the topic of conversation instead, and for the moment Cid decides to let him. Fair's fair. He makes a soft, neutral sound in response.

The silence is companionable, for a time. Cid's gaze is unfocused, lost in thought.

Eventually, he pats his pockets down for a cigar, tucking it between his lips. He lights it with a quick flash of levin at the tip of his finger. In another world, the very thought of using magic so casually in front of a near-stranger would beggar belief, but this isn't that world, and Cid knows well when it's time to show his hand. ]

If that was to be a vision of our Fate, I intend to fight it. [ His tone is even, more resigned than anything. He can't be sure that it was that, but he's already made up his mind. He turns away from Geralt to exhale smoke. ]

I won't deny that I was happy. The path was kinder to me than most, in exchange for what it demanded... but even so, the demand was too great. Eight centuries passed, and yet humanity still prayed to gods and magical rocks to solve their problems. Eight centuries, and our options are only to live as gods or monsters, when we are men — no better or worse. [ He shakes his head. ] I'll not stand for that, no matter how pleasant the dream.

Edited 2024-05-18 15:53 (UTC)

[ The sharp smell of ozone briefly draws Geralt's gaze. Magic was uncommon on the Continent; here, it's everywhere, but this is the Free Cities, not Thorne, and Cid can't have arrived much earlier than a few weeks ago. If he's casually casting spells, it must be a trait he possesses from home.

Interesting.

He hums, sidestepping a skittering lizard that seems determined to chase its demise under his boot. Is he surprised to learn many are unsettled by a fate they didn't ask for? Hardly. Does he feel differently about it? Somewhat. It's complicated. He's had more time, perhaps, to acclimate to the idea of choices taken and given, and the twisted road he often walks as he finds his way through on his terms.

But Cid, he thinks, is speaking not entirely for himself when he says humanity. ]

Men make gods and monsters of each other. [ If the Summoned did not exist, they would look elsewhere. ] You can't rid the world of the other two without ridding it of the first.

[ That's all they were. Men whose image took shape in the eyes of others. Geralt had not much felt like a god. He solved the problems he always had, took his money that he didn't truly need, and wandered between villages that simultaneously needed his help and feared his shadow. What else is new? ]

[ Astarion bristles at the sudden, uninvited contact, it's clear from his withering stare right after it happens that Cid should probably keep his hands to himself in the future. His gaze continues to follow his new coworker as he moves about the workshop, studying him with a slightly narrowed gaze.

He had asked Viktor to hire some... sturdier employees. ]

I was told it should be a day or two by caravan... barring any new unforeseen calamities. [ Which. Happen. Sometimes. He grimaces, waving his hand. ] We briefly had access to a portal to get operations started, but I've been told that's no longer available to us.

[ He seems rather miffed about the sudden inconvenience. You would think the government would be more gracious, with them saving everyone from the rock tantrums... but he supposes this is just how it goes. His hand settles on his hip. ]

You'll have to supply your own rations. We don't provide per diem here.

[ Honestly, this probably isn't true. He just wants to see how much this man is intending to freeload. versus work. He's being too helpful. ]

That isn't what I meant. [ Whether Viktor eats it, leaves it, or dumps it in the bin in a fit of pique, it's out of his hands now. He doesn't think any of those things particularly unkind. He's not entirely unaware of the fact that he's here uninvited.

He starts sketching, his gaze focused on what's in front of him. ] I could apologize for our little tiff but I don't think you'd care for it, and I can't say that I'm truly sorry. Let's not waste that finite energy of yours.

[ He makes a notation, pauses. ]

It's not my business to ask what you decided to cut out of your head, but I couldn't help thinking of why you might have done it. That's what I think it is: you're too kind. You're a good man. You want to help people when you can, and you've put yourself in a position where you can do that more often than not... but when something or someone hurts you, however it is that it happens, it cuts right to the quick. When you need help, you shut everyone out, cut a little deeper still, and forget the whole thing. Am I wrong?

[ He doesn't know — maybe he is. That 800 years of insight fades by the day, and they were all a little different then... but he's willing to be that the two of them aren't cut from such terribly different cloth. ]

[ He lowers the cigar from his lips without taking another puff, still looking ahead. His smile is faint, bittersweet. He nods. ] Spoken true, old friend.

[ The wisdom of decades, or centuries perhaps. It hardly matters that Geralt speaks so little: he says exactly what he means to say.

It's a shame they spoke so little over the course of their dream — or perhaps it's a boon, in its own way. They'll know each other exactly as they truly are. ]

All I want is for the Summoned to live on our own terms. [ Cid takes a pull of his cigar. ] Or else, what have I done but exchange one set of shackles for another?

Edited 2024-05-20 19:54 (UTC)

[ Its getting warmer and warmer in the deserts. Winter is long gone, and spring is on the way out the door as well. Thankfully the nights are still comfortable and early in the morning the paving stones Cadens are still cool. Afternoons, less so.

Dan Heng may be protected from some of the worst effects of various types of weather thanks to the Trailblaze, but it doesn't mean he's suited for them. He almost regrets leaving Solvunn and its damp sea breezes behind, but a Nameless will always choose to follow the compass of destiny into the unknown over the things that are familiar. And in this case, the unknown is the hills surrounding Cadens that still have a riot of flowers growing in the small canyons where winter streams carved out their course and the floods of the previous month's storms nurtured them further. Some even still have water in them, like this one; a healthy, if small, spring feeding a waterfall that pours down over a rocky face and collects in a deep pond. It's probably a good place to fish, if the water manages to flow year-round. But Dan Heng's main interest is in the exposed sediment layers next to the waterfall and finding own samples of the last spring blooms to take drawings of in his notebook.

And, maybe, also just being able to walk, fully clothed, into a body of water without anyone else around to judge when it starts to get too hot.

When Cid rounds the last rocky outcropping leading to the plunge pool and the snare hidden by a game track in the flowers, Dan Heng is still standing in the water up to his waist, one hand shielding his gaze from the afternoon sun and ready to pull his spear out if the visitor is unfriendly. But the face on the man rounding the canyon wall is still somewhat recognizable to him ~~Lord~~ ~~Mister~~ ~~Uncle~~ Ramuh, whom Dan Heng is belatedly realizing was the guy he had met in the Barracks months ago during his observation period, and he relaxes once more. That's a relief. ]

... Hi.

[ It's a familiar face, yes, but this kind of situation is also exactly why he doesn't climb into the fountains in town when it starts to get uncomfortably warm. Man. That fake timeline really did a number on his "act human" skills, and that's his excuse, thank you. ]

Edited (a bitch forgot her conjunctions) 2024-05-21 01:29 (UTC)

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Page 1 of 6

(Open & Closed)

[ Closed ] Geralt

[ Closed ] Viktor

[ Open ] Free Cities - Cadens

workshop stuff

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hills.