Because I need a bitter hand to strike me blind,

[bravers]

WHO: Cloud Strife, Geralt of Rivia.
WHAT: A library trip in Cadens.
WHERE: Cadens
WHEN: Late November.



[He wasn't above theft, he had to keep reminding himself. He'd stolen a bunch of things in the past. The circumstances behind those thefts were just as important as this. The people he'd stolen from in the past were needier than some building with stuff like this to spare.

He'd thought nothing of it then.
So why does he feel apprehensive now? Is it the vaguely sweet, extremely nearsighted mole of a woman on the counter, that actually remembered his name from the last couple of visits he's made that makes him think again? Or is it the uniform he's wearing?

...No.
He has to push it down.
And he does- as he, incidentally, takes a glance around... and shoves another rolled up map up his shirt.

An inhale follows. He closes his hand on a book- some book he's going to check out about some subject he's never going to actually read. And then he stands from the little desk he's occupied, pushing the chair back underneath it, and starts to head toward the exit.

The woman at the counter is just a little further...]

Comments

[gynvael]

[ Normally, Geralt is almost never in the city. He rides out most days, stays out there working, returns for only a handful of days before leaving again. There's been an incident, though, and he's effectively laid up. He can't stay in bed any longer without going mad, he can't ride, so he's. Reading. Not even researching—he's gone through what research he found in the library early in and gotten what he needed out of it—but simply reading. The city is loud, stinking, oppressive. The library is at least largely silent and no one is liable to bother him here. Besides, he wasn't able to winter at Kaer Morhen as he should and since he can do fuck all else, he may as well, for once, take it easy. As Sam would say.

(Some memories are not so easily forced back inside. But he's still here, existing. So.)

There's a bandage wrapped around his arm, his left palm, healing pink marks ringing both wrists. He appears to not have slept in a month, which may or may not be true. What he does not look like is in any way bothered about the incongruous image he makes, quietly tucked in a chair by some tables with a thick volume of Abraxan folktales in his lap.

Despite his seeming lack of awareness, Geralt noticed Cloud entering some time ago, peered up to catch him slipping a rolled map under his shirt, and went back to reading—up until Cloud stands to pass by his seat.

Geralt does not move nor once look up from his book, his voice low but obviously meant to be heard. ] If you can't memorize a few roads, I wouldn't travel them in the first place.

[bravers]

Funny how last month you were talking like it was the other side of the world. Now it's only a couple of roads out of here? Make up your mind.

[His words could come across as harsh, but with what he knows about the other man, he doesn't see him as the type to take much offense.

But him. Is he surprised Geralt was still around? Yes. Surprised he got clocked? Yes. But he can act at least like he's not as he slows, as his eyes dart to the (distinctly more haggard than he remembers) man that seems so much older than what he appears, sitting like that with some book.

He comes to a complete stop, eyeing the counter, and debating leaving. Where the old woman squints at him just faintly, and upon establishing who he is, then waves. Sweetly. Sweetly enough to make him feel worse.

...Better sit down.
So. He does, at the opposite end of Geralt's table. And:]

You look like shit.

[Yeah, maybe it's obvious. But. He kind of does. His eyes linger on the marks on his wrists, and the bandages upon them.

But he says nothing.]

[gynvael]

[ It's true: he doesn't. But he does look at Cloud like that remark means Cloud knows less than he likes to think. ] Are all roads so short in your world?

[ Because they are not in his. And neither are the ones here. Take it from someone who actually rode through the mountains for a week, and then trekked through the desert afterwards. It's not difficult to know what direction to go, if you can mark the sun and the stars and a river or two. (Or it isn't, for him; probably, someone who's not spent their lives in the forest would be easily turned around.) But getting through it is another matter.

Not that this is his business. He's hardly anyone's keeper. He sighs, closing his tome and finally looking up. ]

I failed to return my books on time. [ Dryer than the desert outside. He doesn't want to discuss it. It's not relevant. ] What's out there for you?

[ He doesn't know what Cloud's been told, but these places? They're the same everywhere. Summoning people to use them. The only difference is whether you're surrounded by sheep or sand or trees. ]

[bravers]

[The response about Geralt's... state... makes something unexpected come from him. It's small, almost inaudible actually, and yeah. It's enough to surprise even him.]

Huh.

[It comes with a flick of his eyes to the woman at the counter once again- who... incidentally, is now knitting. And peering, over her glasses, at some kind of pattern.

...Of course he doesn't believe it. But whereas Geralt does not want to elaborate, he does not want to ask further. So there's both good there.

As for his answer...]

I've travelled. Between continents, on foot. Twice, thanks.

[Does he sound like he's bragging? Kind of. And perhaps it's a little immature... and unbeknownst to him, inaccurate. But.]

...Someone I know's here. She's in Solvunn. And I'm not going to let anything happen to her.

[gynvael]

Mmh. [ That's all the acknowledgment Cloud will receive in return for his claims. It may or may not be true, but unlike Cloud, Geralt has no desire to engage in anything in regards to his experience. He's a seasoned hunter, as far as the city's concerned, reliable enough for culling the beasts that bother folk. No one needs to know more than that.

It's not until Cloud mentions a certain her that pieces settle into place. A woman. So that's how it is. He gets it.

He studies him for a moment, considering. ] Portals exist. They'll cost you, and you're on your own finding one. It'll take you close.

[ Buried somewhere in Libertas or a black market in Cadens, he's certain someone's willing for the right amount of coin, just as in Nott. Earning the king's pieces required is another matter, but that's a problem for Cloud to solve. ]