abraxaslogs | [ CLOSED ] hands like skeleton bones

[ 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. ]

[Nadine chuckles in turn, realizing.]

You're my first adult patient, actually. But you are very brave, so I stand by my words.

[Her fingers are beginning to cramp as she finishes the last stitch and ties off the last knot. It's not the prettiest of jobs, but the stitches are neat and the torn edges of skin are brought flush to heal together. Again she grabs a cloth to wet and wipe away the bits of blood and gore left from the stitching and nods.]

Alright, we just need to get fresh bandages on you and then I'll grab you some breakfast. I want you to eat and I want you to rest. Doctor's orders.

[ He makes another amused noise. Sometimes he isn't sure he'll ever be used to it, interacting with those who haven't any notion of what a Witcher is, who exist entirely outside the stories and rumours of his kind. Who will say these things to him with an odd sincerity. Who will sew him up without asking for anything in return.

His back is lit on fire by the time she's finished. He's almost hesitant to move, every inch of him unwilling. But he's no longer spilling blood out of open wounds, so that's an improvement. ]

I'm not going anywhere. [ There's a promise in those words. He can't, even if he were to want to. Julie had hauled him up those stairs and he's fairly certain he'll never make it down them on his own.

He pauses, before adding, ] Thank you.

You're welcome.

[As promised, Nadine brings a tray of food after she's finished bandaging Geralt back up with clean dressings. There are two sweet breakfast rolls, a hearty bowl of porridge, and a mug of juice. The tray is set beside the bed.]

Remember - eat and rest. And if you need anything, I'm just down the hall. I mean it.

[She emphasizes those words with a Look, then leaves Geralt to his breakfast and rest.]

[ CLOSED ] hands like skeleton bones

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