abraxaslogs | [ CLOSED ] hands like skeleton bones

[ Geralt peers at her closely, brows drawn together. Julie's party. As in when she took to bed with Jaskier? He'd given it little thought at the time, when Jaskier had spoken of it offhand—marriage is not the obstacle some want to believe it is—but there's a difference between doing so behind your husband's back (or with his knowledge; who knows what arrangement they had?) and doing so only days after he disappeared without a trace.

Geralt's not judging. More that Nadine has never struck him as callous and he isn't sure that's quite what's going on. It feels more...complicated. Which is the last thing he needs, so he keeps any questions to himself. A beat passes. ]

Someone vanished two months ago. Then I found him. In Thorne. [ Add that to the pile of shit that's on his plate since he was snatched out of the desert. He hasn't even begun to work out what the fuck it means, that Mal's reappeared as if nothing ever happened. ] No memory of having been here.

[ He needs to talk to Sam about this. Which poses a few issues of its own, given Sam's—forget it. He'll cross that bridge when it comes. ]

[Nadine notes the look and only raises her eyebrows curiously. She wonders idly what Julie's told him. How much he knows.]

That's...alarming. Okay, this is going to feel warm. That's normal.

[She begins working the oil gently over the worst of the bruises on Geralt's arms and torso, trying not to put much pressure on the tender spots. At least this should ease the ache and encourage healing. She can feel the heat of it beginning on her own hands.

Better to focus on that than think about people just being yanked out of this plane of existence with no warning. Or being grabbed by Thorne and memory wiped or something. That's something to worry about later, in bed when she can't sleep and all the dark thoughts come.]

[ Alarming. That's one way to put it. He's expecting questions; she offers none and it's a relief. He hasn't got any answers. He only knows what he saw, what Mal said to him, and even that's not altogether clear in his memory. The only thing he's certain of is he had not hallucinated it. Probably. He thinks.

He'd been unsure of what kind of healing magic she'd be using on him; they're only oils and herbs, though—all things he's familiar with—and he relaxes a bit further. He isn't keen on more spells being cast over him. Rather had enough of that for the next decade or so.

There's only one part of him that he's been hesitant to address. It's also the one part he's been unable to even attempt to take care of on his own: the absolute state of his back. Even to the untrained eye, he can't pass it off as something he picked up during a fight, or a misstep on the trail. Not that he's hiding it, necessarily. It's just—complicated.

Nadine has not prodded him much so far, though. Either way, it needs attention. It'll fester otherwise. He waits until she's finished, then eases himself around, unbinding what remains of the bandages wrapped around him. ] Don't ask.

[Nadine lets out a low hiss when Geralt shows her his back. That...that's a mess, and puts her in mind of things she really doesn't want to think about. Swallowing hard, she does her best to adhere to his request.]

I have to ask some questions. Were these thoroughly washed after they happened? Have you been in sanitary conditions since?

[Though she can imagine the answers to both those questions. She's already sorting through her little bottles and pouches, looking over the labels and trying to recall the specific combinations she's been taught.]

[ Mm. That's roughly the reaction he expects. He can't see it, but it feels...not nice. He glances over his shoulder. Considers what she's starting to put together, from all the things he isn't saying. In a sense, the injuries weigh on him the least. They all heal sooner or later.

Perhaps it's for the best not all of his wounds are visible. ]

It doesn't matter for me. [ In the same way he cannot fall ill, his wounds almost never spread into his bloodstream. The worst of it just needs to be closed up. ] I stopped by a river.

[ He'd made some attempt to clean the blood off, largely to keep it from sticking and pulling against his skin. He's lucky he didn't run into anything in the woods—thinks the winter helped, with most animals and beasts hibernating from the oncoming frost. ]

Edited 2021-11-29 05:08 (UTC)

Mmm.

[Nadine isn't so certain all the same rules apply in this world, but that's only a vague idea she has based on Flagg. Geralt knows his body and his system, and he's obviously made of sturdier stuff than your average human.]

They still need to be properly cleaned to heal right. You'll end up with raised ridges that always itch otherwise. Some of these might need stitching...

[Which, at least, she's well prepared to do. With proper sinew thread and needle, not fishing line and an improvised hook. But cleaning first. She abandons her search for anti-infection ingredients and goes for the cleaning solvent instead. At least it isn't the sort that stings, it's supposed to be quite soothing.]

You're really testing my few weeks of education here.

[ Geralt explains not much else. Mostly, he just doesn't want her to worry where it isn't needed. Which is new in and of itself. For someone to worry about him. If anything, it's often been the other way around—not even solely out of a lack of care, but that people overestimate what he's capable of withstanding and healing. A few decades of rumours will do that.

He huffs. ] Consider me a tutoring session, after hours.

[ Besides, at least he's not the worst to practice on. Can't go too wrong, unless her hand really slips, and he doesn't give a damn about how pretty it looks afterwards. She'll find enough roughly mended scars on his skin underneath all the fresh lesions. He leans forward on his hands so she can have a better look. It burns, still, but whatever she had him tip back earlier is working, and some of it's dulled a bit. ]

I don't often end up in the hands of a healer of any sort.

Lucky me, getting to tend what few have tended before.

[She chuckles a bit as she tips a healthy dollop of the solvent into her palm. She lets it warm a moment before spreading it on both hands and turning her attention to Geralt's back. Her touch is gentle as she begins dabbing the clear cleaning ointment into the largest and worst looking of the wounds.

It's not good, on close inspection. Nadine can see too much raw and exposed flesh. But there's no red spreading from the wound, and no darkening at the open edges. No infection, just like he'd said.

What the hell had they done to him?]

Yeah, this is going to need stitches. That I've done before.

[ The breath he takes is sharp as soon as her hand settles against his skin. He curls his fingers into his palm, though the rest of him is still. Lucky her indeed. At some point, he will need to explain...more. For the moment, Nadine's let it go and Geralt is not inclined to offer much on his own. There's a lot he hasn't had the space to think over, a lot more he doesn't want to. ]

Your first patient? [ The one she'd mentioned, he presumes, when she'd said he was not the first to have stumbled in here. Or have there been others since then? Others before to that?

Funny, how things were almost less complicated while they were trapped in the dungeons. Not that he misses that, either. Just. He can't help feeling like they've all been on a constant downhill slope since. ]

Every patient I've had so far, actually. I taught myself, back home.

[Nadine keeps her voice light and calm, gently massaging the soothing solvent into Geralt's wounds. This, at least, is something she doesn't mind talking about. And she knows giving the patient something to focus on is important.]

You know Julie, so I assume you know what happened in our world. A few weeks after things calmed down, I found this kid who'd lost a real bad fight with some kind of animal. His leg was...it was a mess, ripped open, infected... And there was nobody else alive in town, I don't even know how long he'd been there, just...like that. So I learned some serious first aid real quick, and learned how to suture someone up from a book.

[ Yeah. He knows. Julie tried to tell him the scope of it, but he's truthfully not grasped it in its entirety—that complete loss of life across an entire planet that can only be calculated and verified using advancements far beyond his own. But he gets it still, the horror of it. He's walked by enough carts piled high with corpses. And he knows what it is to be one of the few remaining of your kind.

He hums. He remembers the children in her domain. ] Was he with you? Before they took you?

[ Had she left him behind? Because that's a feeling he understands, too: believing you left someone important behind, someone who's be lost to a world unkind to children with no homes. He still isn't sure how it...works. Ciri is here, but she's not a child. So what of that girl he was meant to find? That girl he eventually did find, according to Ciri? What happened there? ]

Yeah.

[It's not a lie. Joe was with her right up until she left Boulder, and it was only a few days after that she'd been pulled into this world. She had left him behind.

The fine details don't need discussing.]

After the end of the world, I was his mom. He was...traumatized, from what he'd gone through. Wouldn't even talk, but for some reason he listened to me. We found ways to communicate. He's a really, really smart kid. And tough. He was getting a lot better, before I had to leave him.

[Only now she has no idea who's taking care of him, who's there for him. It was supposed to be Larry, but that idiot had screwed that up completely.

But she pushes those thoughts aside and focuses on Geralt's wounds, moving on to the next rend in his back.]

[ A long moment passes, silence settling between them. It fits, what she's telling him. It fits the woman he found on that bench all those months ago. They'd both made something, someone, they were meant to protect. He wonders if she felt it, too, at the time: a strange longing that couldn't be filled but sometimes abated when the shadowy child was there. ]

There was a girl. [ He's only admitted it to a small handful of people, exactly who that girl was. But Nadine is the only other person he'd met who'd had children in the Horizon—and he realizes now why that is. ] I left her, as well. Or I believed I did.

[ He doesn't expand on that last bit. Nadine doesn't need the headache of knowing the truth about Ciri—or the fact that he's no memories of ever coming face to face with this girl he's told he raised. ]

[It makes sense. Nadine had wondered, idly. It was impossible not to, considering their first meeting in the Horizon.

Knowing him now, fully themselves, she doesn't really consider him any less The Burdened Man. But she'd remembered the girl. And what he'd said about her.]

The one you had to look after.

[It's not a question, as her hands finish on one rend and move to another. He'd said as much, that first time. It's something she understands.]

I'm sorry. I know how it feels. I think I'd do almost anything to see Joe again. To tell him how sorry I am that I had to leave him.

[ Mm. That's the one. A hell of a thing to explain, isn't it? How exactly he came to search for a princess in the midst of a war? He still feels responsible for Ciri, but it's different, with her grown, with this yawning gap between them. And yet—sometimes he looks at her and he still sees that young girl.

He isn't altogether certain how well he's done here, either, protecting her. It seems like he's stumbling blind most days. ]

If he's as tough as you say, [ He leans a bit so Nadine can access the gash further up on his back, ] I imagine he may be all right.

[ But he gets it. How it feels to simply not know what happened, or what might happen. It's easier to move on when you know. ]

He is tough. But he shouldn't have to be.

[No ten year old should have to shoulder what he has, go through what he did. Maybe still is. How can Nadine know? All she knows is things that happened in Vegas, nothing about Boulder.

She shakes her head, trying to push the thoughts away. Now isn't the time, she's busy. Losing focus now would be a very, very bad idea. Geralt is trusting her. For once, she'd like that trust to be well placed.

It unsettles her, though, to fully realize that he is trusting her. They hardly know each other, really, but he's vulnerable and placing his health in her hands. It would be so easy to take advantage of that, to poison him instead of heal, had she any reason or inclination to. Of course she doesn't...but she doesn't like that she thinks about how she could. That she knows she's capable of something like that.

What is wrong with her this morning?]

Uh...sorry for steering us down a depressing topic of conversation. I'm almost done cleaning this whole mess, then we're going to have to close a few of these up.

[ No. He supposes not. But that's all too common for children, isn't it? It's how his world operates, at least. Geralt understands, on some level, that he himself grew up too fast, too young. It's just not really something he thinks about much.

He huffs quietly. ] No one's ever accused me of bringing good cheer, either.

[ He doesn't mind. Talking to her, he means, depressing topic or otherwise. He does trust her, and he hasn't thought twice about it. It helps, maybe, that she's presented herself as a healer, though that isn't all it is. Julie is...a friend. She didn't have to carry him all the way here or look after him last night; if she passed him off to Nadine, he presumes Nadine is trusted, too. Besides, as much as Geralt prefers to take care of himself, the reality is he can't always. And he's often alone, in the middle of nowhere or in a village with a lone healer in a hut who might be willing to bring him in. Sometimes all he can do is take the chance and hope the person on the other side of the door hasn't got plans to put a dagger in his heart. Nadine's been kinder than some who've tended to him in the past.

He owes them both more than a stolen horse after this. ]

I can believe that.

[Nadine half-chuckles herself, her hands finally working their way to the small of Geralt's back to tend to the damage there. No, he does seem a rather stoic and serious sort of man. He'd seemed that way even without his memories.]

Luckily you're not being judged on personality around here. And I'll take reserved and succinct over a lot.

[She pauses a moment, contemplating Geralt's back as she finishes up applying the salve. She reaches for a cloth and the basin of water, dipping it to wet it before using it to clear away the excess and flush the wounds properly. The water's warm, and she squeezes the cloth gently to drip water down his back, nodding to herself as whatever grime that's collected washes out.]

I'm going to go out on a not very long limb here and guess...you spend a lot of time fighting? I don't mean you get into fights a lot, just...your physique. It's like a soldier or a martial artist.

Makes two of us.

[ Nadine does not exactly say much herself, though it's not as if he finds her especially elusive or mysterious. Just private. A bit reluctant to dig too deep into things. He can understand that. What little he knows of her and her world—he'd be less than keen to talk about it, too. ]

Just a hunter. [ He's been trying not to move while she works on him, but parts of him are growing stiff. He draws up one leg, resting his arm on his knee. ] Julie tells me monsters don't roam your world. In mine, we've a few to spare. Now and then, I'm paid to kill one.

[ That's all. He isn't a soldier, is not beholden to any one person or country. If there's one benefit to being a Witcher, it's that his loyalty is not expected by those who rule, nor something that's sought after. If they want to him, they know how to hire him. ]

Yeah, we don't have monsters or monster hunters.

[Nadine wipes away the last traces of oil and sets aside the used cloth. Now it's time to prepare for the stitches. Her hands are quick and practiced as she opens up a little wooden box and retrieves a slim, curved needle and some sort of fine, plant based fiber to thread it.]

I was just mentioning it because...I need to learn how to use some kind of weapon. The kind they have around here. I have some magic I've learned, but it's nothing that can help defend me or one of my people. Yet.

[ Geralt glances over his shoulder. His expression is thoughtful, a bit more alert than he was earlier. Nadine is not the first to tell him she's unfamiliar with a blade, which is what he assumes she means by the kind they have around here. He's offered his expertise only Amos and Sam—he doesn't intend to make it a common occurrence, nor will he teach anyone who happens to ask—but Nadine is a possibility. Her temperament has always been steady.

So are her hands, judging by that needle and thread. ]

I can teach you to kill with a weapon. If you only want to learn how to swing it, you'd be better off with a fencing instructor.

[ He's not seeking specifics, what she is or is not willing to do. Julie has not painted an especially peaceful picture of her world, and he's witnessed the aftermath of villages ravaged by war and plagues, fallen apart at the seams. Clean hands are a luxury he expects few to have, here or elsewhere. Certainly not here. He just wants her to know what she'll be getting by asking him. He was trained to do one specific thing. ]

Swinging a sword won't do me any good if I don't know how to swing it to defend myself.

[The fiber type thread is tied off and Nadine shifts her position, standing now to look over Geralt's back and decide where to start. The largest one. It looks...well, she doesn't want to think about what it looks like.]

I've had to...defend myself before. [She imagines he'll understand what she means with that phrasing.] I just need to be properly equipped and know what I'm doing here.

[Lacking an effective gun that she trusts. God she'd give a lot for a handgun.]

I'm going to start stitching you up. Do you want anything to bite down on?

[ He gets it. And it's all he needs to know. Geralt asks no further, just acknowledges the statement with a vague sound. ]

When you're ready, you know how to find me.

[ After he gets back. Provided he gets back. Apparently, Kaer Morhen is open for training after all these days. He tries not to think about it too much, the amount of people who have come by even if it's only a mere replica of the fortress. It doesn't bother him, exactly. Just...different. The place has been buried deep in the mountains for so long, inaccessible to all except a rare few.

He hesitates. No. He'll be all right. ] I'll make do.

If you're sure.

[Nadine's not going to argue with him or push it. Geralt knows what he can handle. She just nods and sets to work, bringing the open rends of skin together with one hand and suturing with the other. She tries to go quickly, while keeping the stitching as neat as possible. It's doubtful that Geralt will care, but she does.]

I'm going to do this as fast as I can. You're doing great. Just hang in there with me.

[She doesn't think as she speaks, offering a quiet litany of encouragement and assurances, trying to give him something besides the pain and discomfort to focus on. God, his back really is a mess. Cleaned, the wounds are more clear. But all she can do is stitch up the worst of them.]

Almost done, I promise. You're being so brave...

[Nadine's mouth is on autopilot, spitting out the same things she's said to dozens of children with skinned knees leaking tears over hydrogen peroxide.]

[ It's been awhile, in all honesty, since he's been this torn up. He's good at what he does; the scars that mark him are largely from his younger years, or the rare occasion he took a contract far beyond what he knows he should attempt, for his own reasons. (A certain princess cursed in a crypt comes to mind.)

Perhaps it should be ironic that it isn't some beast he fought that'll give him his new scars. Fitting, maybe.

He grips the bedframe and steadies himself while she works on him. Some of it is the pain, but some of it is that he's just tired. Sitting still takes effort, when someone's prodding at open pieces of your flesh—but at least her words do something, even if it's not exactly what she might mean them to, drawing a startled huff of a laugh out of him in between shallow breaths. ]

Is this part of the healing magic? [ Maybe if he held memories of a typical childhood, he might've joked about how much like his mother or an old teacher she sounds. (Except he does remember his mother, brief snippets of her; they're just things he'd rather not acknowledge.) Mostly, his only reference is watching other mothers with their own children. ]

[ CLOSED ] hands like skeleton bones

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)