abraxaslogs | [Open] A Star In Hand Lit His Way

Uh huh.

[ Pretty sure she heard that from Alphen a time or two. And the only reason he got away with it half the time was because the man literally could not feel pain. That said, Rinwell knows all too well that she herself makes for an awful patient. And just a visit to Roach can't be all bad, right?

The little owlet hops and glides from Roach's poll, coming to rest on the offered arm with the air of long practice, and there's some happy churrrrrrs as she tickles him under his beak. The smile from the mageling just for her owl is the brightest thing in the room for the short time it lasts, before it gets tucked away so she can face Geralt properly.

Bringing her arm to her chest, there's a fond look as Hootle backs up a little to rest against her, but he doesn't turn away from the strange human. Nervous, but brave today. A little like her, really. ]

Ciri and Jaskier had left to go find you, and it was just me. And..Well, I was feeling lonely. And just as I was missing him, poof! He just, appeared.

[ You all missed the floods of tears that little hugfest led to. She'll never speak of it. But it absolutely happened. ]

This is Hootle. Hootle, this is Geralt. He's one of the people I live with here. Roach is his horse.

[ There's a small headtilt as the bird considers this information, and the witcher it applies to; he really does seem to be processing it, far more like a very small child than an average animal. ]

[ His expression softens at that. Right. She'd have been left alone, if Jaskier and Ciri were occupied. At least she did find a friend. The owl smells real enough, but where his medallion now rests around his chest, it gives the faintest hum. Magic, as she said. It makes sense. Her actual owl could not have made it into this world. (Or can it? What can come through with the right summoning spell?)

Regardless, the animal seems to remember her all the same, formed by magic or not. There's an odd, keen intelligence to its large round eyes. Hootle. He watches it hop and chirp for a minute or two. Between Hector's pets and now this owl, they're going to need more room soon. He supposes there are worse problems to have. ]

What's one more guest at the house? [ The owl seems skittish, so Geralt decides not to reach for it. He steps forward instead, tapping Rinwell on the shoulder to catch her attention. What was she fussing about earlier—cleaning Roach's hooves?

He moves around to the mare's side. ] Come here. I'll show you.

[ Rinwell does not notice the medallion reacting; if she had, her interest would certainly have peaked at once! As it is, she's content to stroke the owlet's feathers as he keeps staring at Geralt as only owls can, making no effort to hide the relief at the permission given. It helps, of course, that Hootle is a very small baby owl, taking up very little space, but needing more room than the current apartment space allows is a very real problem they'll have to deal with. Eventually.

For now, however, there is a light tap to Rinwell's shoulder, bringing her attention to the present, and there's a light rub for Roach's nose before she steps aside to let Geralt by, then moves so she's not in his light. ]

Thanks...Ciri said she isn't lame, but she's been really fussy about her feet. I've been trying my best.

Just obstinate from time to time. [ As mares often are. Probably anxious, too. He was missing for a few weeks, and he's been the only one who rides and looks after Roach. She's likely not enjoyed the disruption, even if she is being spoiled senseless. According to Ciri. He can't blame Rinwell, exactly. Hard to say no to a horse.

He adjusts his stance before slideing his hand down the mare's foreleg, coaxing—though he distinctly does not bend down as far as he normally would have. ] Lean your weight against her, if she's stubborn. She'll follow your lead.

[ And sure enough, Roach shifts her weight alongside him onto her other legs, lifting her foot as she does. He glances over at Rinwell, gesturing for the girl to come take over. ]

[ Spoiled, but at least well tended. And not entirely idle: she may not know how to ride, but Rinwell had at least taken her out of the loose box and walked her about a bit to stretch her legs.

Not at all the same thing as a proper ride, and no doubt the mare is restless and bored, hence teasing her new groom. Said groom is listening intently, mindful of how far he leans, though if he expresses pain, Geralt keeps it well hidden from Rinwell. ]

I'm not very heavy. [or strong, physically. mages aren't typically known for muscle. typically.] Will me leaning really work?

[ When prompted, she does at least move quickly to take his place, one hand cupping around the mare's leg in order to catch and hold that hoof. ]

It'll work. You're coaxing her. [ He steps aside so that he's out of the way. ] Not forcing her.

[ He settles down on a bale of hay. His gaze flicks to the owl for a second before he returns to watching Rinwell. There's a lot he still doesn't know about her. He'd vanished not long after she'd taken up residence. But she seems to have found a home of sorts here. It's a good sign.

He stretches his leg out, flexing his knee. ] If you want to ride, Ciri can teach.

[ If she's to be trapped in this sphere with the rest of them, she may as well learn. No getting around otherwise; hitching a wagon can only get you so far. ]

Edited 2021-12-26 16:51 (UTC)

[ The baby owl moves off Rinwell and takes perch along the mare's crest, turning his focus onto how well the girl follows her lessons. Being tiny and light has its advantages!

Coaxing, not forcing. Okay, Rinwell can work with that. And while Roach does swing her nose around to huff at the girl's back, there's no more playful nipping - though perhaps that's because Geralt is here. ]

R-really? Do you think she would?

[ Asked, while the mageling retrieves the pick she'd had in her pocket; with the hoof held securely, it's good practice to check things over, even if they seem clean. At least, that's what she'd been told. ]

Is it hard to learn? There aren't a lot of horses back home, and those that are are.. usually livestock. Or kept for use by the Renans.

No harm in asking.

[ He can't see Ciri saying no to Rinwell. Especially not when the girl's been essentially holding down the fort on their behalf. She has, in a lot of ways, become one of theirs. Which was not entirely what he'd intended when he'd run into her that night, but here they are.

Livestock. He tilts his head. ] You don't use them?

[ Eating a horse is not unheard of. Horses become lame, injured. Folk grow hungry and desperate on a trail or during a famine. Armies run out of rations as wars drag on. But it's another thing to consider them livestock altogether. They're working animals—expensive, and far more valuable for their labour than their meat. (And for him, an irreplaceable companion.) ]

Then, when she gets back, I'll ask.

[ If Geralt thinks it's a good idea, it's not a bad thing for Rinwell to consider. And she can't help but feel excited by the prospect. (The witchers may have started her on the path of becoming a Teenaged Horse Girl, and they've only themselves to blame for it.) ]

No. I think Elde Menancia is the only place that really has them, as far as I can tell. It's too hot in Calaglia, and too cold in Cyslodia. Though maybe there are some in Ganath Haros, but I've never been there.. [hoof is put down, inspection complete, before turning to Geralt. Her expression is surprisingly reserved, especially compared to the earlier smiles] If there was more wide spread use once, it's not been that way for over 300 years. The Renans saw to that.

[ Too cold for horses? He can't help but wonder exactly how cold it must be; he's hardly from the south. The Blue Mountains and most of the northern kingdoms are covered in frost and heavy blizzards every winter.

He watches her carefully. That's the second time she's mentioned the Renans. He gets the sense it isn't a pleasant topic, and when he asks, it isn't directly about them just yet. ]

You said your friend was Dahnan. [ A Dahnan owl, she'd called him. ] Is that where you're from?

That's right. [Hoot!] Our world is called Dahna. I'm technically from Cyslodia, but back home..well, you're either a Dahnan or a Renan.

[ Her hand comes up to rest on Roach's shoulder, gently stroking her coat. Hootle hops back down to her arm, then with a flutter of wings, up onto her head. ]

I never really thought about the existence of others outside of 'us' and 'them'. I didn't imagine it was possible for it to exist. It's been an adjustment, being here and being the only Dahnan in a sea of humans from everywhere.

[ As opposed to the only Dahnan mage, which is its own knot of trouble. ]

[ Us and them. He may not know what the Dahnans and Renans actually are, but he can understand the sentiment. ]

There's always an us and them. It just looks different depending on where you are.

[ Like here. The Summoned and the natives born of this world. The ones who chose to remain in Thorne and the ones who fled. People will divide themselves sooner or later. Doesn't matter what the reason behind it. And really, is he that different? Because even now, as she says a sea of humans, he wants to reply, not all human.

He looks up at the owl perched on her head. ] What happened three hundred years ago?

I suppose so.

[ Rinwell gives Roach one last pat, before stepping forward and carefully letting herself out of the stall. If Hootle notices how Geralt pays him extra attention, he doesn't seem too worried about it; his head bobs from side to side, and occasionally he glances around, but predominantly his mood seems to reflect Rinwell's.

She hesitates, before slowly walking over, and perching herself on a second hay bale. All the better for telling stories from. Or history, in her case. ]

That's when the Renans invaded Dahna, coming down from their world to ours. They took over our entire planet.. They wiped out our cities, our culture, our everything, and enslaved the local populations. They pillage our resources even now, made us their slaves and use us to gather our planet's astral energy for their own use on their homeworld.

[ Her fists clench as she speaks, even as she settles them on her thighs. ]

[ While Rinwell takes a moment, Geralt shifts his attention elsewhere up until She joins him on the hay. He's quiet as he listens. There's a lot of unravel there: entire planet, she says, not entire land. He's not certain what she means by came down, either.

Beyond those details, her story is a familiar one. Another might think her too young to have gone through that much shit, but he knows better. Childhood is where it always starts. ]

Your magic. [ He looks over at her. It's not sympathy she'll find there, but something closer to an understanding. ] Is that why you guard it? Because they want it?

[ Every land, every acre, every stretch of water: all of it, taken over by another race. Who, quite literally, descended from the heavens, from a world that Dahnans had naively always assumed to belong to the gods. But there was never anything remotely angelic about them.

Rinwell doesn't vibrate with anger as she once did when simply thinking about the injustice of it all. But it's still there, under her skin, if she cares to look hard enough.

Then, his query, and there's a definite flinch. Hootle's wings droop, a soft noise trilling from his beak, as Rinwell looks down at her feet. Trying to decide how much she wants to share right now. ]

As far as anyone back home knows, only Renans have astral artes. They're called 'bright eyes', because it makes them glow when using it. [hers most certainly do not - and had not, back when she had flung spells at the wraiths a month ago] And if they knew a Dahnan could wield them too..

[ The more she tells him, the more the pieces slot into place. It explains much about their first meeting. Why her guarded caution had been so familiar. She reminds him of Ciri, too aware of what will happen if her secret is discovered. ]

They can't find you here. [ Perhaps she's someone who has less reason to want to return to her home world. Or maybe she does want to. Has she left anyone behind? The only thing he knows about her is that she said she was alone and that she has an owl as a friend. And magic she shouldn't be capable of wielding, apparently. ] But your secret's safe with us, if you want to keep it that way.

[ The Free Cities have a complicated attitude towards magic at best. Not exactly...fear, but there's a wariness amongst some he can sense. An apprehension that has led to derision in places. So far, he's not seen anything to be actively concerned about, but that doesn't mean those sentiments can't shift or won't shift into worse. ]

[ The circumstances here are so very different. Yet the moment Geralt gives his assurance to her, some of the tension seems to lift from her shoulders. He's right. They can't find her here. And much as she misses her friends, realising she can trust the ones she's made here with that secret is a burden lifted. ]

Thank you.

I kept them secret for a very long time, just as my parents did, as my family did. Until... [she trails, then shakes her head] I...I don't want to stop using my magic. But I don't want everyone to know... It'd be on my terms, if they do.

[ Setting aside the awkwardness of being a mage in the Free Cities, she simply doesn't trust the military here. ]

[ He offers Rinwell a small smile, glad to see some of the tension lift from her. Until. That's a story for another time, he thinks. He considers the matter of her magic instead: that she wants to use it, but without anyone discovering her secret.

Maybe there's a way. ]

Jaskier practices his magic outside the city on occasion. He could use the company.

[ It'll be private out there, and anyone who might happen by from a distance likely won't be able to discern whose magic is whose. As long as the spell isn't overwhelmingly massive. He does recall Rinwell finding the idea of his smaller Signs unusual, though the magic she'd used on the wraiths hadn't been especially out of control, either. ]

[ Everyone has a story to tell. Rinwell simply shares hers in drips and starts. ]

Company, or protection?

[ Given the seriousness of the conversation so far, she almost hesitates in smiling when she asks. She knows Jaskier is a little nervous about some elements of his earth astral artes, but she's seen what else he can do that he's been more than happy to share.

(One of these days, Geralt will get to see what Rinwell can really do. Probably after Jaskier has told him, in what sounds like exaggerated detail.) ]

[ He huffs a little, amusement colouring his reply. ] Both.

[ There are bandits out there. Jaskier normally travels with Ciri, but both of them have had...less than ideal experiences together out in the desert, for two completely different reasons. Might be time for a small change.

Besides, just because Geralt's trapped in the city recovering doesn't mean everyone else has got to be. And he figures Rinwell could use more to do than to look after his horse, even if Roach seems to have benefited from the care. Even her black mane's been neatly crimped now.

He eases to his feet, now that they're finished in the stables. ] Come inside. Ciri tells me you made something unusual.

[ Rinwell has faced worse than bandits. But there are still things she has yet to encounter here. ]

I'll keep that in mind.

[ You tasked her with caring for your horse, and by golly, she has thrown herself into that job. Especially when it helped relieve some of the burden from Ciri and Jaskier.

That she's also helping with meals and some minor tidying around the apartment means the girl is doing what she can to 'earn her keep'. At some point, she'll find a job with coin, to pay forward what they've done for her, but this much she's been assured is enough for now. ]

I have? [what could Ciri be referring to—Oh!] I don't know about unusual. But it IS tasty.

[ It's plenty, in truth. (He'd say it's more than Hector's done, but he's fairly certain Hector is willing to do a lot, too. It's only that the man's version of what he's willing to do tends to involve risen corpses.) ]

She seemed impressed, whatever it is. [ He's gathered it's some sort of desert. And now that Rinwell has made herself something of a fixture in their home, she'll find out soon if she hasn't already how quickly word spreads between the three of them when they're all in the same vicinity.

He's limping a bit by the time they reach the inn room that's become more and more of a permanent home. He pushes open the door—lets Rinwell in first before he follows behind and pulls forward the nearest chair to sit down in. Eventually, he'll start to test mounting his horse, but. It'll be some days yet. He heals faster than most on his own, but not as quick as he would if he'd had full access to his elixirs. What he can make here is sufficient, but not the same. ]

I'm glad she liked it.

[ Having Ciri as her first taste tester had been an excellent idea, really. Especially if she's now passing on word about her desserts! ]

I really like sweet things. But if there's any particular food other people prefer, I'm okay with learning how to cook it. We— I did a lot of cooking on the road, when I was traveling with my friends.

[ She's begun mentioning them to Ciri, in drips and drabs. But it's plain even with that brief mention that she misses them, whoever those friends might be.

Sharp eyes don't miss the limp that soon accompanies Geralt on their way back, and Rinwell is mindful not to keep him waiting, slipping inside and bee lining for the kitchenette. ]

Would you like anything in particular to drink?

[ She wouldn't usually ask, but he might want something else before she tries and pulls the ice cream out of the coldbox. ]

[ He shakes his head in reply. Probably by now Rinwell has discovered what's to drink in their household is ale or wine, and a store of vodka for when they actually desire to drink. He's gotten the sense early in this isn't what Rinwell is normally used to, but. Not much else to obtain in the city.

He distinctly does not lean back in the chair, instead resting his hands on the seat as he watches her. That's the first time she's mentioned her friends to him really.

It's curious, that she calls it travelling with friends. Hadn't she mentioned her people were enslaved? Was she still among them or had she found herself elsewhere? ]

We're on the road most our lives. We aren't the picky sort. [ Even Jaskier learned to make do following a Witcher, though the bard has put down coin for a more embellished meal from time to time. He studies her for a second. ] Seems you've spent your days doing the same.

[ If he doesn't have a preference, then Geralt will find himself with a bottle of ale placed next to him, before Rinwell heads to the coldbox and pulls out the tub she'd been keeping cool inside.

Frozen, even, aided and abetted by a little ice magic application as and when required. She doesn't need a stool for this part, at least, and seems pleased as the lid is carefully peeled back and her work examined. A spoon, a spoon, her kingdom for a— ah! ]

I learned a little off and on. But we had to take turns, and everyone pitched in with learning recipes on the road.

One friend of mine is picky, even when he says he isn't. [absently mentioned; she's only really spoken of her absent friends with Ciri, and only recently at that] He'll eat anything meat, but hates eating greens. And sugar. [how can you hate sugary things?? honestly.]

He's not a big fan of this dessert. But I hope you'll like it.

[ Said, as she scoops a small helping out and into one of the few clean bowls; she's going to have to rinse things out and tidy when they're done, but that's no hardship in the grand scheme of things. And Rinwell looks genuinely eager for Geralt's opinion on her dish as she turns back and brings it over. Cold, creamy coloured, and smells sweet. ]

[Open] A Star In Hand Lit His Way

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