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

[gynvael]

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! ))

Comments

open.

[gynvael]

I. HORIZON

[ A week passes before Geralt makes an attempt to enter the Horizon. He'd wanted his mind clearer. It isn't as clear as he'd like even now, his sleep still too restless, but he's...better. Some of the sharp edges of those old memories have faded. In time, they will sink beneath the surface once more. He's moved on once, buried those parts of his childhood deep. He can learn to do so again.

In the meantime, life will not stop no matter how hard the past may cling to him. He's not one to stand in place but leaving the city is not an option out there. So he's here instead, where he can get some breathing room from the crowded streets, from the others in his home. His domain is as he left it: the wolf lurks in and around the gates, occasionally with a suspicious shimmer to its white fur, the main hall is warmly lit. A door sits a floor below, but Geralt has not wandered that way yet to notice it.

Anyone who comes by can find him outside in the snow, on a stump, his legs stretched before him. Remnants of his healing injuries have followed him into the Horizon—Geralt has little interest in being painfully slammed with the reminder they exist every time he returns to the real world—but they don't appear to hinder him as much as they normally would, and only a bandage winding up one of his arms is visible from those looking on. A sword sits on his lap; he's cleaning it with the methodical attention of one who either requires exceptional concentration to polish a single blade or who's clearly using it as a distraction.

Now and again, the wolf comes to lay on the ground beside him, sprawled in the snow. He's certain the wolf used to behave more of a wild animal, elusive and standoffish, but the rotating visitors who have spoiled and given the animal attention (they know who they are) has apparently worked to tame the thing. Not that he minds, exactly. It makes for a decent companion. ]

II. CADENS

[ Geralt swears the city's grown more crowded as of late. Maybe it only feels that way after the quiet of Thorne's mountains, the sparsely populated innroom in Nott. Bleeding out through the forest had not been his idea of pleasant, but the silence, the cold, the softly falling snow—he prefers it over Cadens' dusty desert. Always will.

At least temperatures have cooled these days. Too bad he can't take advantage of that to hunt deeper in the desert. He's made an attempt at mounting Roach; he can get on, can even ride her for a bit, but he knows the strain of it will not let him travel anywhere close to days at a time. It means he's trapped in the city for the time being, with little to do other than walk and drink.

There are two places you can find him:

1) Tucked in some corner of a tavern somewhere, white hair peeking out from under his cloak. His hands show signs of rougher wear than even his usual, two of his fingers splinted together, but if he's nursing injuries elsewhere, none are visible beneath the cloak he's thrown over himself. He looks like he's not slept in weeks and definitely like he wants to be left the hell alone.

Unfortunately, taverns in Cadens also tend to be filled to the brim no matter where one goes, especially at this time at night. It's possible this is the only table that's got a free seat for anyone who wants a drink. If you're bold enough to chance occupying the chair across from him, you're welcome to it. You might have better luck if you buy him a drink first.

2) Lurking near one of the blacksmiths in the market square, leaning against a stone pillar. He seems to be waiting for something or someone, by the looks of it. Either that, or he's just lurking for the sake of it.

(He is, in fact, waiting for the work he's asked to be done on his sword: affixing to the hilt of his sword the old wolf pendant Jaskier had given to him early on, when they'd first arrived in the city. Now that Yennefer has passed him his proper medallion or so close an approximation to it he can't tell the difference—someone in Thorne must've helped her—he hasn't got a need for both of them. But he doesn't want to rid of Jaskier's. It means something to him now, too. Putting it on his sword where Renfri's brooch would normally be if he still had it feels...right.)

If you bump or fall into him, you'll find he's far more easily knocked off balance than a man his size should be—and the pained noise he makes might suggest why that is. Either way, do you want to be cursed at? Because that's how you get cursed at. ]

Someone said blacksmiths

[petcromancer]

[Hector has been meaning to check in on Geralt; his disappearance had done a number on Jaskier. But he's also a hermit at heart, and hadn't been eager to impose on the witcher household reunion or Geralt's recovery.

But Geralt is here near Hector's place of business, so this is as good an opportunity as any. He stops by the stone pillar on his way in to work.]

Trading the life of a hunter for a pigeon perch, or is one of my fellow smiths secretly a monster in disguise?

[Hector's employing the best method of expressing his concern, which is to completely ignore the traumatic events that happened and make a stupid joke instead.]

[gynvael]

[ Despite Hector's presence in and out of their home, they've spoken little. Geralt was rarely there in the first place and then he was missing for a good three weeks. Not a lot of room for conversation.

He minds not at all avoiding the events that transpired. They're not a topic he wants to discuss. ]

I'd hate to hunt something making an honest living. [ It sounds like a joke, but it really isn't. He tips his head towards the blacksmith in question who's got his sword and pendant. ] Waiting for work done.

[petcromancer]

[Maybe that is the difference between a witcher and the hunters from Hector's homeland. They would never have acknowledged that monsters could coexist with humans. Hector is at least 80% certain he has nothing to fear from Geralt, but reassurance like this is always welcomed, joking thought it may seem.]

Oh? Make sure that one doesn't overcharge you. He does good work, but if he gets thirsty partway through, he'll fuck off for a drink and tack on time and ale to your total.

[Hector's had enough time to observe the habits of at least the closest forges in competition to his. He is trying to live a peaceful like here in Cadens, but that doesn't mean he isn't going to gather useful intel just in case. And because Geralt is a friend of a ...friend... Hector is passing along a friendly warning.]

[gynvael]

[ Geralt looks over at the blacksmith again, who's currently working away. He hums. It's good advice. He hadn't shopped too carefully this time around, given the minimal nature of the work. ]

It's only a minor soldering job. And he's afraid of me.

[ Sometimes that's useful. Geralt does not dissuade the notion when it is. He folds his arm across his chest, eyeing Hector for a moment. He's still not sure what's between Alucard and the necromancer, but he last he heard, they weren't on speaking terms. Or something of that sort. He hadn't asked for details and he's about a month out of the loop at this point. ]

Where are you about now?

[petcromancer]

Then you'll probably be fine.

[He shrugs. Not really his business where Geralt takes his business. Hector could've taken care of it for him, if he'd known, but he's not going to say anything at this point.

He points to a different forge a little further down the street. It's less specialized for weaponry than the one Geralt picked. Hector sees tools, horseshoes, and various other metal sundry come across his anvil during his shifts.]

I'm working at that one. It's more mundane work than I'd like, but there's not much of a market for magic here. [Which is in spite of Hector's efforts. He's tried marketing enchanted items, but the Free Citizens haven't responded to them.]

1 because we've put it off long enough

[cryptsleeper]

[A basket appears on the borders of Geralt's domain. It is exceedingly plain, the white cloth that holds the contents impossible to read.

The contents, however, need some work.

An attached note simply reads:]

Open to critique.

[gynvael]

[ The basket that arrives is recognizable almost immediately. No one else mysteriously leaves food and then flees. What he doesn't expect is that it has come at all. They'd parted on not so favourable terms. It'd been a poor topic to discuss, and while Geralt is not one to bother with petty grudges, he's also got other things on his mind as of late than the dhampir.

Critique does not come in written form. The contents taste decent, the shape is...unusual. (Why have they got legs? Who gave Alucard this idea? It certainly was not him.)

What Geralt does send back is his wolf, with the same basket. Inside is an accurate replica of what he'd been unable to describe to Alucard in words: standard pierogis, stuffed with cabbage and mushrooms. The kind you'd get at any tavern or inn.

There's a note attached—not in regards to the food, but an acknowledgement of something else Alucard had done. ]

Heard you helped.

[cryptsleeper]

[The wolf may return with another basket, but damper for it's troubles. Alucard has not precisely called off the monster storm that now comes down in his domain, nor has he removed the thick, thorny walls that surround it. He's still not interested in many visitors yet.

But he's taken the critique. The next batch of pierogi are perfect semi-circles with impossibly precise crimping along the edges, no odd shapes to be found. They're still filled with cabbage and mushroom, but there's sage and thyme mixed in now, along with just a little bit of caraway seed to work alongside the cabbage.

And a note.]

Just smelled your horse. (Apologies to her.)

[gynvael]

[ His wolf has been covered in glitter and rolls frequently in the snow, so a bit of dampness is acceptable. Geralt offers one of the newly shaped pierogis to the wolf for its troubles, which it devours with a wag of its tail. Geralt would swear it didn't used to wag its tail, but apparently now it does. The wolf is rapidly becoming a house pet. Perhaps it's only fitting. (He's becoming attached to places, people, he had not meant to, either.)

They're good. No complaints. He's curious if Alucard will attempt to replicate it in the real world now.

The final basket contains a sweet version, filled with wild strawberries instead. The note is not exactly an invitation, but it could be taken as one: whether in the Horizon or in Cadens. Either can apply. ]

She's right here. Apologize yourself if you want.

[cryptsleeper]

[Glitter? Wolf, have some respect. Even Awoocard wouldn't go that far.

The final basket is interesting. And it prompts a particular thought, because while strawberries are good, there is the clear, vivid, impossible memory of the blueberry-bourbon-pecan jam from Sam's party. All new ingredients to Alucard, and layered so perfectly that it broke him for a wonderful, perfect moment.

So yes. Sweet and filled with fruit. The returned basket is sweet as well, but mixed with a headier version of blueberries, pecans, and a dash of bourbon.]

In time. Also pretty sure all it did was prevent another trip into the desert.

II-2

[priestified]

Woah. Easy there, pal. You all right?

[ Heedless of whatever curses the surprisingly unsteady stranger chooses to curse at him, Maxwell's hands rise in both a gesture of placation, quickly followed by an attempt to steady the man by his much broader shoulders.

Listen, he'd be angry if some jackass turned a corner and plowed right into him, too. He's not about to start a fight over it.

Though judging by that hiss of pain, that might be a fight Maxwell thinks he could win. ]

[gynvael]

[ There's absolutely a distinct fuck that comes before Geralt inhales sharply and catches himself on a stack of crates. His eyes snap to who it is: a stranger, a man. No one he recognizes. Geralt seems to gather himself before he straightens up. ]

Fine. [ Some of the tension leaves his shoulders. He steps away from the hands on him once he's steady on his feet. He just wants his work done with so he can get out of this square filled with people. ] Don't let me keep you.

[ If the man has been on his way anywhere at all. He's a new face, but most faces in Cadens are new. It's not exactly a cozy village. Geralt doesn't give it much thought, his attention already returning to the blacksmith who's only just finished with his sword—and Geralt takes the few steps towards the table to look: a circular pendant of a wolf is now attached to the hilt, one that almost seems a sibling to the medallion around his neck. If the stranger is behind him or following, Geralt appears to pay little attention for the time being. ]

[priestified]

[ Well, Father Maxwell knows a guy who's not fine when he sees one. He's seen plenty of 'em. This guy is not only not fine, he's even worse at hiding it than some of Maxwell's old war buddies.

And that flash of striking, almost inhuman, golden eyes? Well, Geralt stands out from most of the crowd in Cadens. Color Maxwell immediately curious.

And not easily deterred by all those clear signs to leave a guy alone. ]

Huh. You must like wolves.

[ Spoken from over Geralt's shoulder.

What? It isn't like he's going to start out with such conscientious concern over the guy's well-being if Geralt isn't even going to deign to acknowledge his presence any longer. ]

[gynvael]

[ He keeps at what he's doing without turning around, but he isn't telling the man to fuck off yet, so consider it an invitation that he can stay. For now. He flips the blade in his hands, running his thumb over the pendant. ]

They're only a symbol. I didn't choose them.

[ He doesn't clarify what he means by that. He had not, in truth, ever expected to see his medallion again. That Yennefer held retrieved it (from a certain Ronan, according to Jaskier) and held onto it says something he's not certain he wants to address just now. He needs more time before he decides how he feels about Yennefer altogether.

He finally looks over his shoulder, sliding some coins over to the blacksmith as he does. ] Do you want something or are you simply bored?

1

[aquaveiled]

[ It has been some time since she last spoke with Geralt, and even more since she had paid an incidental visit to his domain. Feeling not so much responsible for his well-being given that they don't truly know one another all that well, but just being the sort of person who likes to make random unannounced trips, Himeka decides to see what has become of the cabin in the cold forest and conjures up garments appropriate for the occasion.

This time she is much more wary of the trees and manages to avoid having her own domain get stuck amongst them by simply commanding it to stay put on the outskirts. (Probably what she should have done on her first visit, to be honest.)

But when she arrives with a basket in hand, she can see that the cozy little cabin has left. Himeka frowns slightly, her gaze going over what she thought would be familiar landscape--pieces, yes, but there are new landmarks now. A large stone keep rising above her is one such addition. Hmm.

Well, there do still feel to be the touches of what can only be assumed is Geralt's aetherial touch, so this must be his handiwork. With a shrug, she turns her attention towards the fortress and ascends.

Glad to see her suspicions are correct when the man in question is tending to a sword with his canine companion looking very much at home in the snow. He can likely hear the crunch of the snow beneath her boots as she approaches if she hasn't been spotted already, not doing anything to conceal her presence. Himeka offers a wave with her free hand. ]

Needed a little more room?

[gynvael]

[ Whether or not he hears Himeka crunching through the snow (he does), Geralt only looks up when she stops to greet him. He pauses in his task, a tilt to his head that suggests he didn't expect to see her. The reality is, he's given thought to few since his return. He's been—distracted. His shoulders are relaxed, though. Her company had not been unwelcome the times they'd spoken. Feels like a lifetime ago when Himeka had stumbled on his cabin, too. He's forgotten altogether she's never seen the fortress until she says more room. ] 

It's home. [ He doesn't explain further, why his snowy mountains actually seem to be larger than most others' domains, as if spilling onto another's territory, or why a small cottage can be spotted in the near distance, situated past the walls that enclose the keep. Ciri's.

He sets his sword aside. Studies Himeka for a moment. Still has her glowing rock, apparently. He wonders if it looks any different inside now that she recalls who she is. Or if she realizes the girl she met here is now a grown woman. ] 

Taking your crystal on another walk?

[aquaveiled]

[ Home? She lowers her hand and looks up once again at the stone walls, keep--it's not too different from the sort she would see dotted around Coerthas if she were to think on it, but such places were meant to defend the land from the horde. ]

I'd thought the cabin was your home?

[ Or maybe it was much like it had been for Himeka--a piece of himself he didn't want to dwell on or think too deeply. A place from a time he couldn't go back to. She could respect that. ]

Oh yes, it's good to take it out now and again. We need to stretch our dream legs or some-such.

[ She bids her crystal sit still as she begins to walk again, moving right up to Geralt and the wolf without explicit invitation. ]

But mostly I wanted to enjoy a meal I can't get in Solvunn and it's always better with company. Hungry?

[gynvael]

[ Only a short pause passes before he answers, dismissive in a manner that suggests he isn't interested in getting deep into it. ] It wasn't real.

[ Not that any of this is real, but it exists. The fortress exists outside the Horizon. The cabin did not, never had, and the reality is he'd been afraid to let it stand, torn it down before the girl could return or more...things could spawn. Kaer Morhen is familiar. It's where he knows he belongs.

His eyes go from her to her crystal, then back. Why the hell not. He's had enough of being around people who know. Who saw him stumble back in varying degrees of broken and bloodied. Himeka is far off somewhere in Solvunn, uninvolved in any of the shit that's happened, and that is precisely what he needs. ]

Inside? [ Normally, this would not be a question, but in the brief time he's come to know Himeka, it's entirely possible she means to dine right here out in the falling snow. ]

Checking in after the escape!

[photophobic]

[Spending most of his time in the Horizon sequestered away in the palace of obsidian glass built into the side of his volcano, Kylo hasn't tracked his scorching way across the Horizon to Geralt's domain before— but now, he has reason. His progress is slow and deliberate, and while he doesn't believe himself capable of walking through the world without scarring it (so he isn't), the tracking line of destruction marking his passage is thin and largely superficial. Kylo isn't here to add to Geralt's wounds.

He is here to check in on him, which is a relatively new desire to be trying on for size, and when he catches sight of the Witcher he finds himself relieved. Also new. He stops short, leaving a healthy distance between them: he is something of a monster after all.]

Geralt.

[It's also possible he's trying out greetings.]

[gynvael]

[ Kylo is the one person who came to his aid that Geralt has yet to seek out. He'd debated it, but ultimately he'd decided the man may not want the risk on his side of things, to have Geralt to be spotted visiting by another in Thorne. Only one of them remains inside that nest of serpents. He considers sending a message through Yen instead, the next time he sees her. (Since there is a next time between them now.)

As it turns out, he needn't have concerned himself. He's out in the yard when the looming figure trails through the gates and hovers at a distance like a hesitant wraith.

Geralt looks up. The snow sizzles and steams where the heat meets it under Kylo's feet. Or what's visible of his feet beneath those robes.

He tilts his head. ] Came to see if I'm still breathing? Or have you more ominous messages to pass on?

[photophobic]

[Kylo considers the question, head tilted slightly and a tic pulling at the corner of his mouth that looks suspiciously like it might want to be a smile— or at least whatever passes for one when you're Kylo Ren.]

Both. Though, I'm no more messenger here than I was there.

[And he wasn't much of one there, either. His gaze is heavy, steady, assessing as his expression slides flat. Perhaps, he thinks, Geralt has been exposed enough already. Domains are so personal, when you know how to see the soul through its work— and as a telepath who honed his ability to read minds under the tutelage of the tyrant reading his, Kylo knows both ends of the blade. Intimately. He glances back towards the shadow of his mountain.]

I thought we could talk, now that we can. That I could answer your questions. And that you could answer mine.

[gynvael]

[ The faintest smile curls his own lips. He considers the offer for a second, though it takes not long for him to accept. He pushes to his feet, steadier than the last time Kylo saw him, sword hanging loosely in his hand.

He does have questions. Ones he's been sitting on until he can address them. Now seems as good a time as any. ] Come inside, then.

[ He doesn't wait for Kylo to answer before he makes his way towards the heavy doors. They open to reveal the torch-lit interior, benches and tables laid out. It's empty with the ghosts of many. Geralt seems unconcerned about Kylo's fiery path and the further Kylo goes in, the more he will see why: the place is already scarred with signs of wear and destruction, scorch marks and blood of decades past stained dark into the wood and stone.

The easy way Geralt settles in at one of the tables, though, suggests nothing about the cold fortress is unwelcoming for him. And it isn't: it's home. The only place he knows to be safe, protected.

He slides a mug of ale Kylo's way without asking. His questions can wait. He wants to hear from Kylo first. ] You start.

horizon.

[sanc]

[ Things have certainly been... outside of her scope for a bit of time. She comes from a world of war, but for as much technology as there is in her world, the likes of what she's seen here are completely in fairytales.

The Horizon brings her an odd sense of peace. It's not safe here, but she's stood to garner a bond with it knowing how important it is to connecting her to home. She wishes she'd had so much more time to ask about it, but spending time with it -- in it -- might give her some of what she wants to know. At least, that's her hope.

There are people she wants to check on and while she had not spent much time with Geralt, she hopes to see if he'd learned anything since their last conversation.

So off she ventured, dressed a bit more warmly than she was the last time but still donned in all black. She remembers how she found his hut last time and is thankful to see that her memory served her well in the end. It's the wolf that gives her pause, so she stops a bit aways from him to greet him. ]

Geralt! Hello, how are you?

[ Worse for wear, it looks like, but it's a courtesy more than anything. ]

[gynvael]

[ Relena's appearance is unexpected—they've spoken once, but he doesn't know her outside of that conversation—and there's a tilt to his head when he looks up, like he's trying to think of why she might be here, or if she's simply passing by. Hard to say, who may or may not have heard of his...situation. It was not exactly a secret in Thorne; by extension, he imagines it may not be a secret within the Horizon, depending on who talks to whom.

The wolf looks up, too: lazy and decidedly tamed for such a wild creature. It used to guard the stone fortress that looms behind him, and it still does, but. Can't deny it's grown friendlier. Less prone to running off at the sight of visitors.

Her greeting gets a nod; her question remains unanswered. They both can see how he's doing. Instead, Geralt gestures at the wolf, noting her hesitation. ] He won't bite. Come inside?