[ Dean is simple to track down. Geralt first locates him at the Sarstina, but the amount of people means he doesn't stay long. Stays long enough to be sure that it is, in fact, Dean he's looking at, with no signs that Death has sunk her claws into him. Not here, at least.
He arrives several hours later instead at Dean's house. The sky dims with the sinking sun, taking the late spring heat with it. He doesn't knock—just pushes open the door. ]
You're in one piece. [ And looking like he's been through hell, but that isn't new. They've all got those fucking memories to sort through. Geralt isn't sure what to do with his, either. How he's meant to take what they discovered. For now, he's retained his focus on reconnecting with what is real. The desert, the people, his horse. Trying to shed the fragments of a skin he once thought he wore. It both does and doesn't feel like him. He was not so different in that vision that he can disconnect himself from what he became.
The bottle in his hand clinks against the table. He eyes the area Dean's cleared away to make room to build...hm. He tilts his head, unasked question in the air. ]
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He arrives several hours later instead at Dean's house. The sky dims with the sinking sun, taking the late spring heat with it. He doesn't knock—just pushes open the door. ]
You're in one piece. [ And looking like he's been through hell, but that isn't new. They've all got those fucking memories to sort through. Geralt isn't sure what to do with his, either. How he's meant to take what they discovered. For now, he's retained his focus on reconnecting with what is real. The desert, the people, his horse. Trying to shed the fragments of a skin he once thought he wore. It both does and doesn't feel like him. He was not so different in that vision that he can disconnect himself from what he became.
The bottle in his hand clinks against the table. He eyes the area Dean's cleared away to make room to build...hm. He tilts his head, unasked question in the air. ]