abraxaslogs | [ CLOSED ] hands like skeleton bones

Entry tags:

[ CLOSED ] hands like skeleton bones

Who: Geralt + the Queen, Yennefer, Various
When: After Nov. 12
Where: Castle Thorne, Nott, Cadens
What: Geralt goes on an Adventure and has a great time
Warnings: Blood, violence, trauma

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"So I hear," Kylo replies evenly.

He hasn't. Yennefer only pressed the slightest hint of the truth into his mind when passing him the medallion— most of what she was concerned with was the peril Geralt is in, not so much how he came to be in it— but Kylo never likes to admit ignorance. It isn't difficult to deduce, however.

"These dungeons are meant to be empty, with Thorne's offer of amnesty to any of the runaways who choose to return. I take it you're here as a... personal guest of the Queen?"

Geralt hardly even fucking knows how he got here. He was halfway across the world and then he wasn't. Now it feels like he slept on a bed of nails and someone set off a fire barrel in his head. Everything according to plan.

Why is Kylo speaking to him? He can't help thinking he's missing something. (Other than roughly two pints of blood.) Not that he minds Kylo's company, under better circumstances. It's just that at the moment, he's struggling to string two thoughts together. He can't tell what Kylo wants. The man does want something, does he not? Geralt doubts Kylo makes a habit of small talk in dark, dank dungeon cells.

"If you mean to uncover her scheme, I can't help you." Amnesty. That's interesting. Clearly not what they have in mind for him. He swipes under his nose, fingers coming away wet. Has it never stopped bleeding or did it just start again? "Though I can tell you her pet mage was invited."

He's assuming Kylo knows all there is to know about Relena by now, given his presence in Thorne. The name Grigory has only ever come up in association with the queen's private parties, has never been connected to Ambrose or the king. It's not difficult to gather why the queen would keep a young mage by her side. Grigory's got all of the spine of a jellyfish.

"Grigory."

Kylo's lips pull into a thin, not particularly pleasant twist of a smile. He had very little fondness for the Queen's personal favourite before discovering Geralt down here. His growing disdain for the Borrel sycophant practically drips from the name.

"But you're right. I'm not here to pick apart the Queen's schemes, though it is... troubling. That she can continue to act with impunity, and with such a long reach."

Assuming, of course, that Geralt hadn't crossed the border into Thorne by himself. It doesn't seem to fit with what Kylo knows of the man, but it isn't as if they are close... no matter how it might feel to have Yennefer's interest in Geralt's wellbeing pressed so firmly into his thoughts. He raises a hand, curling fingers around the thick iron bars of Geralt's cell as if testing them for strength.

And if the Witcher has the eyes to see the flash of metal pressed in his palm, he might have a better idea of what, exactly, Kylo is here to do.

Mm. That's about the feeling he shares, too, about Grigory. Though the queen's actions trouble him less than the fact that she has placed her direct involvement in them rather than assigning it to a few lackeys who can brute force similar results. He's known queens to lead armies, ones who are unafraid to get their hands dirty, but this is not that. This is something else.

It takes him a second to catch it, the circular piece of silver in Kylo's hand. His gaze flicks towards Kylo's face. That he's startled is clear. His medallion is not that much of a secret—he wears it in the Horizon—but only one person in Thorne would understand its true importance to him beyond a piece of jewellery. It doesn't yet occur to him, either, that it's the real thing and not a replica.

(What does it mean, that she's got it? She can't have obtained it now; she must've had it for awhile. How long? Why would she have gone to the trouble for his medallion when they were countries apart, when they've not spoken in over two months? Sometimes he thinks he understands her better than anyone, and then there are times when he doesn't fucking know her at all.)

He shakes it off. Thoughts of Yennefer are not helping. He studies Kylo a little closer. Yennefer would not give that to Kylo without purpose. "And how's your reach?"

Kylo holds Geralt's gaze steadily. Without access to his own powers he's incapable of knowing for certain, but it seems, at least, that the Witcher is catching on— if only to the obvious. He's here because Yennefer sent him. It isn't his reach in question here.

"All things are connected through the Force," Kylo informs him, lightly enough. "And reaching through it, distance becomes irrelevant. But it's power you should be concerned with. Isn't it."

The medallion shifts slightly in Kylo's hand. It's entirely possible he means to suggest Geralt come and take it.

Geralt's brows knit together. "Mm. I love riddles." No, he doesn't.

He's gathered Yennefer sent Kylo, he's gathered she has given him the medallion so Geralt knows who sent him. That Yennefer has decided Kylo can be trusted, at least for this purpose. Beyond that, he doesn't have the energy to piece together more. If Kylo wants him to do or know something specific, he will have to tell him outright.

There's a second before he shifts. He's half tempted to tell Kylo to simply fucking throw the thing between the bars and he'll pick it up later when he summons the strength to, but he's aware there are guards watching and that this would be unwise. Moving also feels unwise. Vesemir would tell him nearly everything in his life is unwise, and the old man would probably be right, but here they are.

He sighs, struggling to his knees so he can reach out and take the medallion. The metal is cool, the weight of silver in his hands. His thumb brushes over the snarling wolf head. He's never been without it for this long, remembers vividly the day he was given it. Remembers vividly the boys who were not given the same, bled out in a dark room. (He wants to believe Yennefer had not meant to force that memory at the time, but there's a part of him that isn't sure. And no matter how hard he wants to not think about it, it is all he can think about.)

He leans his head back against the wall. His focus is clearly waning, even if he seems to be trying. "I didn't take you for a messenger boy."

As blunt as he sounds, it isn't meant to be an insult; there's only curiosity behind the words. He just wants to know why Kylo's agreed to this. It can't be solely at Yennefer's behest, as charming as she can be. And it certainly isn't for him—at least, not as far as he believes. They've spoken exactly once. For Geralt, he imagines them vaguely acquainted, at best. Certainly not someone you put effort towards when they're trapped in a cell by the order of the most powerful person in the castle.

Riddles, unfortunately, are something of a necessity when there's an enemy telepath in play— something Kylo knows more than a little about. He watches Geralt's painful progress impassively despite the echoes of Yennefer's carefully padded distress still singing in his synapses, though he isn't quite so practiced at controlling his expression without the aid of his fearsome helmet to hide his intent entirely. He's pleased with Geralt's response, with the indication of understanding even through the haze of what is clearly considerable pain.

"I'm not," Kylo agrees, and then, crouching to put their eyes at a level, he adds with his usual, trademark over-intensity: "We both know I wouldn't be here without purpose. But I suggest you gather your strength, Geralt. You never know when you might need it most."

Plans, Kylo attempts to impress upon him with the steadiness of his gaze, are in motion. The Queen is far from the only player on the field. All Geralt needs to do now is hold on until a way out is secured.

Funny. He's occasionally given thought to what the hell Yen has been doing in Thorne. Now that he's actually here, he can't muster the desire to learn what machinations she's put in place between all these courtiers and guests. Maybe it doesn't matter in the end. He's never wanted to give a shit about any of this. (And yet.)

Either way, if he's meant to sit tight, he can. Where else is he going to go? He thinks, briefly, of at least telling Jaskier to keep Ciri put. She will look for him and if she finds out he's in Thorne, nothing will keep her from coming for him. Which defeats the entire purpose of—everything.

He turns the medallion over in his hand. His expression is considering, but he seems to take Kylo at his word. No reason not to. Geralt does not trust easily, but between Yennefer's involvement and the fact that Kylo does not strike him as the type to waste time toying around, he's willing to go along.

"Let's hope you don't visit again." He assumes if the man needs to return for a second chat, something will have gone considerably wrong.

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[ CLOSED ] hands like skeleton bones

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