abraxaslogs | [ dec / open ] what even is the point of december without christmas presents?

[ It's nice to know what they both think of the idea of him on fire. He grunts softly, but that's the only comment from him on the situation.

His attention instead is on Julie. He's curious, how chaos manifests for her. He's watched Jaskier perform a small spell or two, but Jaskier's magic is—ironically—largely a quiet affair. A bird formed in the air, plants that simply grow and reach. No spells for combat. Geralt has never brought it up, either. He knows Jaskier finds his reason for being in other places. As an artist, a storyteller. Not a fighter.

This world has enough fighters, anyway.

He grasps Jaskier's elbow as the fire sweeps through. Faint concern knit his brows together, though all he does is take a step in front of Jaskier, an instinctive motion—and when Julie collapses, he steps forward again, reaching to offer a hand or to catch her if she needs it.

The one sacrificed flower aside, the rest are now gleaming red. It is impressive, actually. He sees what she means, the unpredictability of it. ]

[ She takes Geralt's hand when it's offered, and even just the way she grips at him that the whole display really took a lot from her. She doesn't know if it's like this for other people -- Nadine had once pointed out that this was all much harder for people like them, who come from worlds where magic doesn't actually exist. That even non-magic users from the other worlds have a leg up on them because at least they have a frame of reference, an idea.

There's a slight wobble to her step when she stands, but she steadies herself and straightens. Her knuckles are white around Geralt's fingers. Looking first at Jaskier, then around them at the red flowers, she takes a deep breath, heart still pounding.

You meant to do all that, right? ]

Well... fire, color. It's what I set out for.

[ Which, of course, means that she absolutely fucking did not mean to do all that. ]

[The way Geralt gets in front of him is old hat, and he peers carefully around his shoulder once the blaze is gone. Shit. He hadn't realized that, here, it would take so much out of her. Geralt already has hold of her, but Jaskier immediately moves to her other side as well in case she drops again. His hand lands on her arm.

Honestly, it was very impressive. He's selling her short, for sure.]

I can see why you've chosen here to practice. [He dusts a bit of ash from her, and from the end of his coat, looking over the plant that has been completely decimated. At least he understands why he's felt like Geralt was in relatively good hands.

He trusts dangerous hands more than... magically competent ones. Though one should hope they go hand in hand.] I'm sure it's fuck-all annoying to hear, but the old adage that practice makes perfect still rings true. I will say, you do seem perfectly suited to the more destructive part of the chaos. Maybe you should lean into it. Burn down a few buildings. Create new traditions around an... enormous bonfire.

Edited 2022-01-24 07:17 (UTC)

[ In reality, Geralt's never seen anyone bring their magic into the Horizon, either. Nearly everyone he's met has made use of its ability to manifest at will—but no one's used it as grounds to practice magic that they hold in the real world.

Speaking of chaos and destruction. Maybe Ciri might find some use for that, rather than simply lessons of theory with Yen. Though he isn't sure. Hers is a unique case—and she's just as liable to explode out there by simply attempting magic in here.

He helps steady Julie, and gives Jaskier a look that suggests no one should be burning any buildings down. But for Geralt, it isn't destruction that he sees in what occurred. It's something else. ]

You only set fire to one flower. [ He indicates the pot reduced to ash. The rest are intact. Cheerfully scarlet, just as she's been attempting from the start. It isn't perfect control—but it isn't a total lack of it, either. ] The one you were aiming for.

[ It really does boil down to Julie not particularly trusting herself in the real world. She's done magic out there, of course, but she's too scared of burning half the town to the ground to try larger things like this. At worst, she figures, she just won't get any better outside of the Horizon. Nothing changes. At best, it carries over. Win-win, as far as she's concerned. It's not a method that she necessarily thinks would work for anyone with magic from their own world, but her magic is all due to Singularity, and where would it be stronger than... in the Singularity? Is that where they are? (Julie doesn't really understand what, exactly, the Horizon is. She wasn't there for the field trip part.)

She knows that, logically, she should be quite proud of what she managed. Geralt is right, she'd only incinerated the single plant that she meant to, and she supposes that she is pleased. But there is something terribly unnerving in accomplishing something of this magnitude without actually meaning to do it. Almost like an out-of-body experience, and not a fun one like taking a bunch of pills. A really scary one where she doesn't know exactly what she'll find when she returns back into herself. She can handle small magic, the fireballs and changing one flower's color. These huge bursts... they're something else entirely.

Once she has her footing back, stops feeling off-balance, she looks around at all the flowers and sighs. ] Yeah. [ It makes her skin crawl, makes her antsy, and with a wave of her arm, the plants all suddenly disappear so she doesn't have to look at them anymore. The whole concept of being able to do something so big (even though it's so small in the grand scheme...), it's foreign and uncomfortable to her. For her, what she just did is enough to have changed her entire world. Not just her world, on a personal scale, but the entirety of human history as she had known it. And here, it's absolutely nothing. Laughably nothing.

Once they're no longer standing in a field of poinsettias, Julie begins to walk away, toward the food, though she stoops to pick up the bottle on the way. Swallowing the gulp she takes, she looks halfway back over her shoulder. ] Hey, y'all want some of this? Promise I didn't actually cook any of it. It's my family's recipes, so it should be good.

[Oh. He stiffens a little as the domain changes all at once, the flowers disappearing. It's a bit sad, he thinks. They were such a lovely shade of red. Despite it, Julie appears even more dissatisfied.

Then again, if this is like his situation with Ciri, he sort of understands. Capable of power, unable to control it accurately.

The threat of blowing up a friend. Or, in this case: setting them ablaze.

That's awfully encouraging for Geralt. If he wasn't already well aware of Geralt's affections for Julie, it's never been more obvious than in this moment. He looks between them for a moment, perking up at the mention of family recipes. Oooh, delightful!] Why, actually, I'd love to. Is this all traditional? For the holiday? Oh, what's this one? And, you know, I've been meaning to ask -- what is with the lamb? It's not part of the meal?

[Considering it's alive and running around.]

[ His gaze is a bit thoughtful, a hint of concern remaining until she's up on her own feet, bottle in hand. He gives a glance behind him at Jaskier, then follows Julie to the table overflowing with plates and...everything. He's not sure if their little exercise helped, but Julie seems to have moved onto other matters and he knows her well enough by now to understand that that functions as better, for the time being.

His wolf may or may not be chewing on a leg or other from the ground, clearly stolen while they were occupied with burning flowers. Geralt pats the animal absently on its head.

He hovers a bit—uncertain what he's looking at. Food, obviously, but. It's piled so high, he doesn't even know where to begin. He ends up taking a bottle of vodka, and pulls up the nearest chair. He swings his legs over it. ]

A little undercooked if it is.

[ It's very much alive. He can hear it bleating again. ]

Edited 2022-02-04 02:03 (UTC)

[ It didn't not help. Later, she will actually be quite pleased. But right now, it's so much, it's uncomfortable. Six months ago, she didn't even know magic could be real, let alone that she would be able to do it. She still hasn't exactly figured out how she feels about it, not when she knows how easily she could fuck up such power.

She sighs as she rounds the table, sets out plates. It's with an air of humor though, and an overdramatic eyeroll as she walks toward the Nativity to explain. As she names people in the story, she moves between the mannequins that stand in their places. ] The lamb's not for eatin'. It's part of the Nativity. Every year, for Christmas, people set up replicas of Jesus's birth, sometimes with real actors and stuff. Jesus is the son of God, and he was born to a virgin named Mary. Mary and her betrothed, Joseph, were travelin' through Bethlehem when she went into labor. They went to the inn, but there wasn't room for them, so the innkeeper offered them the barn. After Jesus was born, they put him in the manger. [ She helpfully lifts a baby doll out of the manger, waves it a little and then puts it back down. ] These three are the Three Wise Men. They followed a star to the newborn king, and they brought him gifts, gold, frankincense and myrrh. The lamb is 'cause you usually have animals, but I didn't want fuckin' camels and donkeys in here.

[ She is extremely aware that almost nothing she said made any sense to them, but they're the one who asked. And she gave them the short version too.

As she returns to the table, she begins pointing things out there, too. ] So there's honey ham or fried turkey, for meat, then you got all the normal sides. Mashed potatoes, gravy, green bean casserole, sweet potatoes... that's macaroni and cheese, there's roast brussels sprouts, bacon creamed corn, dressin', potatoes au gratin. Plus cranberry sauce, dinner rolls, cornbread and biscuits. Everyone usually drinks wine for Christmas dinner, but I got winter punch and hot buttered rum, too.

[ And absolutely none of that even addresses the entirely separate table of just desserts. ]

[Oh, gods. It's that same thing Nadine was talking about. Jaskier is nodding as she explains it, attempting to keep it all straight, but honestly he's already peeling pieces of the ham off and stuffing them in his mouth.

If you ask him, their religion has far too many magic men involved in it. And sexless births? No thank you.

Not that he wants any births near him, but --]

And do you eat it? After? Or you simply... er, release it back to its owners? You rent the lamb?

[He feels he needn't get into how one cannot have children while being a virgin, but he can guess that's part of the magic.]

[ It makes barely a little sense, but Geralt's largely used to this. Not only from Julie, but also from Dean. Occasionally Sam. Things that go over his head. They have all vaguely reference the same concept, though, when it comes to this Christmas thing, so over the past week, he's been piecing it together. So far, he's gathered an abundance of food and magical myths are involved, which truthfully isn't that foreign. When it comes down to it, that's every damn celebration and festival.

Folk mostly just seek a reason to eat and drink and tell stories.

Geralt, too, has a leg in his hand, picking meat off the bone. He lets Jaskier ask the questions. The lamb, he thinks, would be a sacrifice in a small village, but he suspects this isn't the case with Julie.

Perhaps she'll shrink it and add it to the shelf with her dragon and dinosaur afterwards. ]

[ Look, Julie will be one of the first to admit that it's an insane story that doesn't make any sense. But it's also ubiquitous, the largest religion in a planet of over seven billion people, and more or less shaped the entire atmosphere that Julie and Nadine grew up in, so it is what it is.

She scoffs loudly, putting food on plates because she is not a savage who just stands over tables, eating meat with her bare hands. ] No one is eatin' the lamb. I'll probably just turn that one loose in someone's domain, there's plenty of fields and pastoral shit around, but yes, we return rented animals to their owners. That's how rentin' anythin' works. You give it back at the end. Here, eat off plates, for God's sake.

[ Heaping plates are shoved toward both of them. Men. She doesn't put one together for herself, though, only picking up one of her grandmother's biscuits to nibble as she ladles herself a glass of punch (it's not jungle juice, though it is still mostly very strong alcohol). ] Anyway, Nativities are just a common tradition. Usually you have a little one for inside too, like on a table. Lil' figures for all the characters. When I was a kid, it was like playin' dolls when they'd tell me go set it up.

[Look, they don't come from a place where one rents an edible creature for decoration then returns it. It makes no bloody sense. If he's spending coin on a lamb, it better end up a roast at the end of the day.

He takes his plate with a huff back at her. Who cares about plates? They're all friends here. It's not even real!

He won't say it. For the moment. Unfortunately, the two of them are going to continue eating with their hands, either way, because that's simply how it's done. Cutlery is rarer than books, and Jaskier has only seen its use mostly at royal banquets. Besides, he has to tear up the bloody ham anyway.

It's quite good.]

I'm not questioning the utility of dolls for table decorations. It does look utterly lovely. And... you know, I don't think I've seen so much food in one place since I was moving in the courts.

[ Geralt takes the plate without complaint. There's food upon it, and he's easy. He feeds a bit of turkey to the wolf at his feet, a thoughtful expression on his face as he listens. Truthfully, he's largely here to keep Julie company more than anything—but he doesn't mind the stories, either. ]

Sounds more like Belleteyn. Birth, fertility. [ Miracle children born from a virgin woman is unique to Julie's tradition, but it is curious to him it's a tradition of the winter, when the lands are barren. Usually mythical stories of childbirth are saved for the spring. Harvest time and such. ] Yule has often been about the undead. They say the Wild Hunt brings its frost across the land when they ride through the skies.

[ Well. Some say. Myth, except not. Ever since Ciri told him, he believes her, but. He still isn't sure what to think. And Ciri herself seems so unwilling to talk about it, Geralt has only gently prodded her now and again.

Like Jaskier, he tears easily into his ham; nor does he hesitate to set a small slice of pie on Jaskier's plate, to take a roll in exchange—a thoughtless action. ]

Well, Jesus wasn't really born in the winter. A long time ago, like thousands of years ago, Christians basically stole a bunch of pagan holidays to make 'em about Jesus. Turns out people care way more about parties than mopey, serious religious shit, so they took these big drunken festivals and slapped Christianity on 'em to keep people interested. We got a different holiday about birth and new beginnings and shit, though. That's Easter. When Jesus rose from the dead. It's in like, March or April, depends on the year. But it's the big spring holiday, and if you think Christmas don't make sense, you can't handle Easter. [ Please don't make her try to explain how a candy-distributing rabbit fits in with the resurrection of Christ. Let her have the four months between now and Easter before she takes a stab at that confusing mess.

Downing half a glass of punch that's three-quarters pure alcohol, she makes a third plate, which gets set in front of the wolf. His pumpkin pie has whipped cream. ] So wait, y'all have a for-real zombie holiday? Was Eifstide just like bein' at home for y'all?

[ dec / open ] what even is the point of december without christmas presents?

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