abraxaslogs | [ OPEN / CLOSED ] i think i found a way to kill the sun

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[ OPEN / CLOSED ] i think i found a way to kill the sun

Who: Geralt + Various
When: December
Where: Cadens, Horizon
What: Some catching up now that he's home
Warnings: Discussion of trauma; nsfw marked

(( placing starters in the comments below. find me at

discontinued or at Noa#1979 to plot stuff! ))

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[ He makes a noise, as though the idea of a spell warding the crumbling structure is something that's not ever occurred to him. No. There are no spells of that kind. They're Witchers, not mages. Magic is entrenched inside them in a different way. ]

Nothing like that. The trail protects itself. If you know your way, you know your way. If you don't. [ He shrugs. Then you don't. He learned to navigate it since he was a child. If he were to be asked, he truthfully can't recall the last time he was ever lost anywhere. It is, more than his ability to wield a blade, what he leans on the most. Finding his way no matter where he is. Weapons can be stolen or broken, horses can falter, but his knowledge of the forests and the land can't ever be taken from him.

He looks a bit contemplative, as Sam says that. I'd have liked to know. They have a long history. It's a complicated one, but few people deeply rooted in his life are not so in some form. All he knows is that Vesemir did what he could, with the best of intentions, and he thinks in a world as shit as theirs, that's as much as you can ever hope for. It's difficult to know if that's something Sam can understand, on an intimate level. Their lives are...different. To say the least. He leaves the matter untouched. ]

Like lure a hatchling wyvern as a pet? Nearly lost a finger. [ There's a sense that Geralt was as involved in that incident as the rest of them. ] After the keep fell, we were let out to roam for once. [ Hard to contain four boys running loose after all that time trapped in a cellar. ] I imagine he considered locking us back up several times.

Edited 2022-01-22 00:27 (UTC)

[ yennefer has not needed other's belief in her to push her way forward before. it's why she frames it the way she does - whether you believe me or not. because it hadn't mattered if she was believed. hadn't mattered if she was called insane, or impossible, or any combination of the two. she had done everything she had wanted, everything she had thought she could do, and there was very little that stood in her way.

geralt's belief in her, though. for some reason that matters. for some reason, it's worth building back up the foundation of those walls, collecting the materials just in case. she says whether or not, but still some part of her holds her breath, just to make sure. just in case. just...

i believe you. and yennefer lets out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. i believe you and any tension she'd been drawing in on herself is released. she turns, as if some part of her doesn't believe he's said it, to see geralt still there. on his side, facing her, wrapped up in her sheets. just be careful he adds. you're important to me too. yennefer feels herself pause at that, at the easy way the words filter through the air. at the way he just...says them. she knows her pendant is still there, knows that it is tucked behind his own. knows he's still wearing it even now. that this isn't the first time he's said it. and yet even still - that part of her she gave to him, that secret she'd offered up, turned back to face her...

yennefer moves, then. finders herself sliding across the bed. to turn towards him, to fit herself up against his chest and to tangle her ankles up with his and to press her forehead to the same place where his heart is. where she can hear the slow, slow, slow beating of his heart. she closes her eyes, once she's close enough. once she feels like she can feel him all around her. ]

I know. [ she says gently, quietly, barely a whisper. she knows he can hear it, so she doesn't bother speaking up. ] And I will. [ there is a moment, barely even a second, that passes. and the she is pressing a kiss to his chest - unspoken, but hopefully he hears it. thank you. ]

[ Geralt's reaction is only to be expected, but it still makes Ciri laugh in its predictability. She defends Jaskier and his hat, proclaiming herself more knowledgeable where it comes to fashion than Geralt, with Jaskier to back her up. It is easy, pleasant banter back and forth as they make their way down the street, and when the conversation turns to the show and the mage's name, Ciri mentioned also that she's met Sypha, launching into the story of their misunderstanding in the desert and the mule named after Sypha's cousin.

Until Jaskier pauses at the market. They are pretty trinkets, even in their frivolity. She doesn't give a damn about this holiday, and neither does Jaskier, but she appreciates the gesture. ]

I'd love one. Thanks.

[ God he says, as if that is the name of his faith altogether (or the lack of it, as it were), and it reminds him of how Julie says it, too. It's often struck him as strange. To leave your god unnamed. You'd think the least they'd be granted was a name. ]

One could also argue most of the gods are bastards.

[ Gods, Destiny. Whatever you want to call it. It's said casually, though: a simple remark not meant to hold any deeper meaning. ]

What did you do to piss yours off? [ Or should he ask, what didn't he do? ]

[ Geralt does not point out that it is black, so that it's more difficult to see when it's stained with blood. Which it frequently is. Not right now, though.

They stroll through the streets together. Geralt brings up the rear, listening to Jaskier chatter up ahead. Despite himself, he's content to be out here. It isn't what he'd have done on his own, but alongside Jaskier and Ciri both, it's all right. He glances at the strange trinkets on display over Jaskier's shoulder, giving an absent sound of acknowledgement at whatever it is either of them might show him.

Brightly glowing jewelry, for one. It's possible he'd have not been opposed if Jaskier hadn't already affixed a glowing flower to his hair. Two glowing items attached to him is a bit much. He'll pass. ]

You shine enough for the both of us. [ He does, however, quietly pay for a few sweet rolls when they walk by another stall, which he splits between them without comment. ]

[ unfortunately, geralt, you're talking to a regular ole dude with no magic who hasn't ever had magic. therefore, mages and witchers are all sort of a part of an amorphous blob of 'magic is involved and i'm not sure i'm ever going to understand it'. he's pretty sure that there is an extreme different that if he really needed to, he could tell the difference. but right now? ]

Oh so the trail has a magical defenses. Got it. [ it's said with a sort of look, like come on now geralt. really. but then the conversation keeps moving, and sam feels a sort of warm smile creep across his face. the mention of brothers, of family, of a father figure doing his best. he can picture it, with or without all the swords and this huge castle and mentions of wyverns, and it's not a bad. it's all, in its own way, familiar.

sam lifts a brow, grin escaping. ] Locking you back up? Where would he even be able to keep you? Cause I'm pretty sure I was locked out a time or do for the shit I tried to pull. [ mama wilson got tired of sam's crazy teenage years plenty. but it was never anything to worry about. ] But wait- wyverns. Those are what- tiny dragons? You tried to keep a tiny dragon as a pet?

[ Sam gets a look back. It almost makes him want to find a way to bring Sam there, show him what he really means. Not to prove anything, but more to just. Let him see it for himself, what's near impossible to describe in words.

Geralt raises an eyebrow in return. What does he mean, where? There's a blink before he says, almost too casually, ] They brought dozens of unwilling boys to Kaer Morhen, Sam.

[ Like always, Geralt moves past it without lingering. He makes a noise, as if this isn't near the first time he's had to explain the difference between a dragon and a wyvern. ] Wyverns are wyverns. They don't breathe fire. Twice as common. Half as dangerous. [ Still capable of chewing through a grown man, though. The smallest glimmer of amusement flickers over his expression. ] Don't tell Ciri. She'll never let me forget it.

[ They've moved far from what Geralt originally came to Sam to talk about, but he realizes, too, that maybe they haven't moved all that far. That maybe he hadn't needed to talk about anything in particular. Maybe he'd simply needed to talk about something, something that did not involve Thorne or Yennefer or how fucked in the head he still feels. He isn't sure. He isn't sure, either, if Sam understood this from the moment Geralt showed up in his house, or if he'd merely gone along without question or expectation of what Geralt was looking for. Both, perhaps. ]

Edited 2022-01-25 19:34 (UTC)

[ He laughs, with not an ounce less of that dark humor. ]

Question is, what haven't I done. [ Right on the money, Geralt. ]
Catholics got a lot of rules.

[ the look sam gets in return has him laughing - barking out something of an easy sound. and he knows it's all a bit ridiculous and knows it's all a bit silly but sam does still need moments here and there where he recognizes just how insane all of this really is. geralt raises an eyebrow and makes a comment like it's obvious and even when they're talking about children and experiments and unwilling boys, sam just sort of. snorts. and shoves at geralt's arm - friendly, easy, pushing him over like they were joking around about something as simple as a football game. ]

I don't know, man. This is my first time here. I'm still waiting for the full tour. [ and, just like geralt does, sam move without lingering. the laughter lingers, though, because now he's thinking about geralt as a kid and trying to keep some tiny dragon as a pet, and for whatever reason it's that image that has sam's hand on his own chest, laughter easy in the air. ]

Oh no, I think she needs to know this. How big was it? Are we talking like- dog-sized? Or something tiny and scary? Actually- don't tell me. I'm picturing tiny and scary and I like that image way too much.

[ and sure, maybe they've moved from what the original conversation had meant to be. but as all conversations for sam tend to go, he's not upset about it. not worried about it. there is something lighter and more geralt-like in the slant of the other mn's shoulders that sam had noticed when they first arrived here, something that almost looks like relaxing. almost looks like calming down. and sam - sam fits where he thinks he's needed. whether that's a tense, complicated conversation that neither of them can solve, or it's just. talking about stupid things they did as kids.

there is more that they should talk about, but sam wilson has always been the type to recognize that sometimes the lighter things are just as important of topics. ]

Please tell me you named it. Please.

[ Sam glides past the remark with such ease, Geralt almost doesn't notice, either. That he may have said something that to another would be worth pausing over. Later, he might look back and consider what it means. How Sam often takes what he says in stride, even if it's—fucked. He supposes. If he thinks about it, he knows that to be true, that it isn't right he spent a portion of his boyhood locked in a cellar because otherwise they'd have tried to run. (He still tried.) But it's also so ingrained in his history, in all of theirs, that it just is, and maybe Sam's ability to not trip over every small bit of it is what makes it easier to talk to him.

Either way, the noise Geralt gives in return is both exasperated and amused. Like he knows Sam's giving him shit, but he's putting up with it, anyway. ]

Later. [ Possibly. He can see it, that he might actually show Sam some more. Take him through the grounds. But not now. There's a place beneath the keep that he isn't sure what to do with, that he isn't ready to face and fix and clean up. And there's a lot he's told Sam already, but this—this, he doesn't want to get into.

He'd rather talk about the idiotic shit he got into as a boy. After, even. When he was grown but still much too young. When he'd thought he had already lost all he could and didn't realize there was yet more he could lose. ]

Hatchlings are no bigger than a chicken. [ He holds out his hands to indicate the size of the wyvern they'd tried to claim. ] Buy me a drink some time. You might convince me to tell you what I name it.

[ and that. that noise. that is something that sam has found he chases after. that he looks for in the conversations. the amusement as well as the exasperation. the proof that whatever this is - sam laughing, geralt giving away stories, the way the two of them continue to circle around each other, this bond - is something from equal sides. because yes, geralt does say some fucked up shit. and sam knows that it's fucked up enough that he should be more hung up on it. but he's also learned, over the course of these months, that nothing gets done if he does. that it's not what geralt wants, whether or not he needs it.

sam's not his therapist. sam doesn't want to be. but he does want to be the sort of friend that geralt shows off his home and tells dumb stories to and one where they can sit in this home and laugh. ]

I'll hold you to that. Even if you already owe me drinks. I might as well start making the shit myself with how many empty bottles I have at the apartment.

[ it's a casual statement, comfortable and joking, despite the nature behind it. despite the fact the only reason sam's even going through that much alcohol had been what they'd all gone through. jaskier, first - then geralt. then ciri finding out about alina. sam was not a huge drinker, not unless the social situation called for it, but lately...well. let's just say the bottles of liquor had been drank. and used. and drank again.

sam pauses for a moment, thinking about that. about how geralt had found a spot for himself in that room, even after he'd healed. how easily the two of them had fallen into step together. how nice the last few weeks (weeks? months? god, sam's gotta get better at keeping up with time) had felt. now sam just holds onto the smile, shakes his head a little. ]

And how big do they get? If you'd actually kept it.

[ The remark draws a snort out of him: dry, acknowledging what they've been through without lingering. He isn't drinking the way he had anymore—he can't drown what happened, and it isn't as though it helps him sleep any easier—but Sam's got his demons, his own grief. They haven't spoken about it much, but. They both know, he supposes. What it feels like to lose people and be helpless to stop it.

They aren't entirely alone, though. It's worth something. To know he's got someone he can rely on. Even if all he's looking for is to take his mind off things for a time. ]

Big. If you're that keen on them, I'll bring one to your house next time.

[ He's teasing, even as his expression suggests he's contemplating the image of it. Sam, faced with a wyvern looming on his doorstep.

Either way, he says next time, and his feet are already lifting off the bench beneath. He's careful as he eases himself up. He didn't come intending to bring Sam to Kaer Morhen. Can't say he minds that it turned out this way, though. ]

[ He resists the urge to sigh and resigns himself to the circumstances. Is this the consequence of him and Yen finally being on speaking terms again? (He's not complaining. Not truly.)

He leans back against one of Yennefer's dressers while she pours the wine. Like her, he too has access to the limitless magic of the Horizon. Unlike her, he takes no advantage, and where some of his hair has fallen loose, that's where it stays. He folds his arms across his chest.

When Ciri offers him the wine, he takes it, waiting for Yennefer to impart what it is she learned. His eyes linger on Yennefer's bare shoulder for just a moment.

Always a next time, he supposes. ]

[ that is the thing sam's generally fallen back on, when it comes to grief. when it comes to support, connection, and understanding. to make it obvious and known that you're there to talk, but not needing to. the snort from geralt is reminder of that, in many ways. that they can be here, that they can be present, and that whatever this is, it is still a two-way street too.

sam hasn't talked about his demons. hasn't brought up his grief. there are complications on complications back home that sam could get into, if he wasn't, but he hasn't. doesn't. maybe there will be a time later. maybe not. becoming captain america doesn't exactly seem comparative, to everything happening around them here.

sam laughs. it's light, and easy, but it does not ignore the rest of it. does not turn away from the piece of geralt he's opened up for him here. ]

Yeah, I'm gonna pass. Pretty sure Magpie would have a heart attack.

[ and then he's standing, too. whether they'd intended to be here or not, sam is glad for it. appreciative. in more ways than he probably realizes. he takes another look around the large room, just because he can, before sliding his hands into his pockets. turning back to geralt. smiling. where to next? ]

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[ OPEN / CLOSED ] i think i found a way to kill the sun

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1 million years later

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