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 peers at Amos. Hm. He remembers Amos not wanting to...what. Be a danger? It adds up, that the man would simply tuck away somewhere at the edges of a farm, the woods. Frankly, that sounds appealing right now. Being in the middle of nowhere. He misses that.

His head cants to the side. The sincerity is almost surprising. It's also—he knows Amos can't realize what he means because Geralt has never mentioned, exactly, who is there in Thorne. What she is to him, with nearly a decade of history there and too much said. Yennefer is almost an entirely separate matter from Thorne, from the queen. If she'd not been there, if she had not seen what she was never supposed to see, none of this would be so difficult to navigate. ]

It isn't that. [ He thinks it will not be hard to grasp what he's referring to when he says, ] It's complicated. With her.

[ Yeah. He knows. He knows how that sounds. He's rarely spoken of his relationship with Yennefer to anyone. They've woven in and out of each other's lives for years. And he can't decide why he's talking about it now, except that Amos is just removed enough from the situation that it doesn't feel so weighted.

He releases a breath. Fuck. He does need to talk to her, he knows. He just can't think of what he even wants to say. What he wants to hear from her, if anything.

He lets the quiet linger for a bit before turning the topic back to earlier. ] It's that shit for you out there?

[ His brows furrow at complicated, raise at her. For all of the similarities he knows the two of them share, here's a substantial deviation. He doesn't get shit like that. Has never been in that kind of situation. Never will be. So this is a weird one. ]

So uncomplicate it. [ As if things are that simple is. Thing is, he says it with full sincerity, because to him, they are. ] Cap has this go-to move where he'll lay all the cards out on the table. Seems to work with one-on-one things, at least. [ A beat. ] 'course, he's more charismatic. Maybe that's got something to do with it. I just know he and Naomi have been together for years, rough patches and all, so he's probably doing something right.

[ Because Geralt definitely knows who people from his home are. Doesn't really matter to Amos either way; he figures the general point has been made. Do something or expect nothing.

Which, huh, that kinda ties back to his current situation, don't it. Amos blinks in response. Hadn't been expecting that. And then, a shrug. ]

Not the worst place I've ever been. Not the best, either. Some things are alright. It'd be better if I had a clue what to do with that much empty land. [ Or if he gave a shit about anything out there. That'd probably help, too. ] I get by okay, though. Can't really complain.

[ He hums, noncommittal, acknowledging. It is absolutely not that simple, but he says nothing more on it beyond a lightly deadpan, ] Are you saying I lack charm?

[ It'd be nice to know what the hell to do, but this is a personal matter and it isn't for anyone else to sort it out on his behalf. He'll make a decision, down the line. When he has a clearer head.

He turns his attention to Amos instead. Or more specifically, his place in Solvunn. He's never questioned it, what Amos was doing over there—the man can more than take care of himself—but ever since Thorne, he's been thinking more and more about those spread across the continent. The scattering of the summoned feels vulnerable. Not that he expects them to band together—far from it; people are who they are—but of those he's come to trust? He can't deny he'd rather have them nearby, on hand, than accessible only through some ethereal plane.

He's not here to herd folk about. Still, he studies Amos for a second. ] If you ever find cause to complain, there's room in Cadens.

[ It's a standing offer, that's all, one he makes casually. Amos can take it or leave it as he likes. ]

[ Amos tilts his head, leans into the deadpan. ] I'm sure you do alright. We all got our strengths.

[ Just isn't something he's ever really had to consider. He's content to drop it there, though, if Geralt is. Not like it's any of his business. Not like he'd be able to help in any meaningful way if it was.

That's kind of a continuing theme, with him out in the middle of nowhere, separated from pretty much everyone he's started to trust. He meets Geralt's gaze head-on, wonders if they're thinking the same thing. Judging by what he says, maybe. ]

Seems like the place to be, don't it. [ Geralt's there. It clearly hadn't mattered, since he's okay now — relatively speaking — but Amos might've been more useful to Jaskier if they'd lived in the same city, too. Sam.

Himeka's here, though. Or at least nearby. And. He's not sure how he feels about that anymore.

He sighs. ]

I probably got more out there than I do here. Only I don't really got all that much there, either. [ A small handful of people he doesn't know that well, though that's kind of his standard. There's few he knows well, and none of them are here at all. ] Guess I'll have to keep that in mind. In case there's ever anything to complain about.

[ He says it with a shrug in his voice; there isn't. It's boring, but boring isn't all that bad. There's always potential for things to be way worse — and he's not inclined to tempt that particular fate. ]

[ There's a faintest curl to his lips before he turns thoughtful. He senses the ambivalence, if that sigh is anything to go by. In a way, he understands. None of them have asked to be in this sphere. None of them want to be here. Makes it difficult to think of it in terms of where they should be, because the answer is home. But they aren't. They may never be. Between what he's learned from Ciri and his own grasp on things, he's never been entirely certain if there's a going back. Even if the doors were to open again, something tells him there is only moving forward, in whatever state the world they're returning to has become.

On fire, probably. ]

Hasn't got to be much, for it to be important.

[ There's something of a shrug in his statement, too. He suspects Amos already knows this. Neither of them have particularly got much, here or there or back home. He can see that in these tight quarters and sparse rooms. The emptiness outside. In the spaces between the words Amos has not said out loud.

A moment of consideration passes before he adds, ] I'll return to the usual, in three weeks. If you're around.

[ He leaves room for Amos to turn him down—if Amos decides he'd rather not set foot near the fortress again. It's a different thing for Geralt. That room, that place—it exists, remains existing, despite what it once held. He can fix it, when he has a mind to. Turn it into...how it should be. Less stained with recent blood; still scattered with pieces of old memories and rusted chains. But he knows not everyone has made a home out of their scars. He doesn't expect Amos to find it an easy place to be, having seen its depths. ]

[ That first statement gets as open an expression Amos is capable of giving. He stares up at Geralt, eyes focused, serious, honest. Like he's taking what Geralt is saying to heart. It became clear, early on, that the two had some kind of connection, an understanding of one another. (It's unfortunate that Amos now has all too clear an idea as to why, but that's in the past.)

He feels how empty the machine shop is. How empty the entire Roci is, really. Amos lays a hand on the worktable that feels so solid here, like he focused on bringing every atom that composes it into existence. How none of it is real. ]

No. No, it doesn't.

[ Speaking of things being in the past, he's living in it. Isn't inclined to let this particular part of it go. Not just yet, anyway. He's got nothing to replace it with.

The suggestion of a return to a normal routine, though, like nothing had ever happened to disrupt it... ]

Yeah, sure thing. [ That's plenty easy to commit to. If Geralt's fine, he's fine. Not like he hadn't returned to Baltimore; not like he hadn't ventured further into Ilus' depths. Once it's over, it's over. Whatever is up with that basement in Geralt's place — it's over with. ] Your friend told me to take a sword, last time I saw him. I keep it up in my cabin now. It's kinda cool, having one. Might have to get a real one sooner or later. [ Just for the hell of it. Amos sighs, lays a hand on the body of his reassembled shotgun. ] 'specially since I can't bring this bad boy out into the real world.

[ He looks right back, no longer surprised by Amos' oddly intense sincerity towards the things he says. He's learned Amos has a certain way of moving through the world; it isn't something he entirely understands yet, but the longer he spends with the man, the more he wonders if Amos is truly content to drift where the current takes him or if there's more to it. He's never asked. Doesn't plan to, either. It's not his place, and he's not altogether certain Amos has an answer, even if Amos were inclined to give one.

He nods. Settled. Simple enough. They needn't talk of it and he can appreciate that. He would not, frankly, know where to begin in the first place to explain a damn thing.

Jaskier, huh. Leave it to the bard to give away shit from someone else's home. Not that he especially minds; it's only a sword off the rack and not even a real one. ]

When you do, tell me. Can't trust every smith out there. [ And a sword is a personal thing. Having one that suits is as important as knowing how to use it. He tips his head towards the weapon laid across the table. Now that it's put together, he can recognize a trigger mechanism on it. It appears long enough to hold a bolt, but he can't quite tell how it's meant to function. ] That's yours from home?

[ Amos calmly looks back at Geralt, takes the nod. There's something nice to having someone around who just instinctually gets it. He hasn't really had anyone like that before. Sure, he'd reached an understanding with his people back home relatively quick, but there was still that initial gap period. With Geralt it's just kinda been there from the beginning. Makes things a hell of a lot easier, at least. Cleaner.

Hadn't really thought about the quality of sword he'd get in the real world, so that does give him a moment of pause. Of course, the likelihood of finding something out in the real world as good as what Geralt's got — here, where he can craft things to perfection, create them exactly like he wants — isn't nearly as great. Would have to be taken into consideration. And it's not like it's something easily modified; not like what Amos is used to, at least.

Though he could probably learn how to make his own sword, if he was so inclined. Just that he doesn't have the same affinity — they're more a novelty to him, albeit a useful one — so it doesn't seem likely. ]

I'll do that. You're the expert.

[ A well-meaning acknowledgment. Amos figures he's coming along alright, but he's unlikely to ever reach Geralt's level. Only makes sense, considering where they come from, how much more natural it is for him. He's fine with that.

Grins, and hoists his shotgun up, finger nowhere near the trigger, not even taking the chance of accidentally shooting something — even though it's not loaded, even though nothing here is real. ] Yup. Martians know how to build good shit, I'll give them that. Modded it a little, but nowhere near as much as I'd do for what I had to work with back in Baltimore. Things are cleaner up here than they were down there. Fewer distractions. 's way easier. [ He pauses, thinking. ] Swords're even easier than that, though. I don't mean in wielding one, more in. You know. You kinda know what to expect from someone who's got one. I like that part about them.

[ Martians. Has he heard that word from somewhere before? Julie, perhaps. His gaze is curious as he leans forward. It looks, to him, bulky and unwieldy, but if it's something Amos favours, it must have its use.

He nods at the weapon. ] And what should one expect from that?

[ He can grasp what Amos means by modded at least; Geralt is not so different. The sword he's been training Amos in is standard, but his own is not—forged in its length and design specifically for his own handling. It's the reason it took some time for him to find a blacksmith in Cadens he was satisfied enough with to commission.

Either way, he understands: a weapon is an intimate thing. You know it inside out—feels out of sorts when it isn't with you. He's found himself in a world where it wasn't impossible to replicate his sword. Must be strange, to come from a sphere where what you know best simply doesn't exist in the same capacity. ]

[ Amos blinks, comes back to himself. Right. If Hunter's so good with a sword, then it makes sense that he wouldn't be familiar with a gun. (Why master swords at all if you have guns available to you?)

He gets up from the stool, coming over to the stairs where Geralt is, and indicates each point on the gun as he talks about it. ]

Well, first, you gotta load it. Kinda helps to have shells in. Pull the trigger, and it'll shoot out the projectile at whatever it is you're pointing at, faster than the speed of sound. That'll do some damage. Not to the ship, [ and he indicates the walls surrounding them, ] because the material's too strong. That's when you gotta worry about ricochet. But meat sacks like us? [ And he indicates his chest. ] It'll tear a hole right through you. You hit a vital organ, or let 'em bleed out, and it's lights out. Just gotta have good aim, which can be easier said than done sometimes. But I don't gotta be close enough to see the whites of someone's eyes to kill 'em, either.

[ He'll let Geralt take the shotgun for himself to inspect it, if he wants. Not like there's any danger here, where things aren't real. ]

[ A pause, before he reaches out to take the weapon. There's a weight to it, but a balance, too, as he feels it out. ]

We have crossbows. [ That's the closest thing he can relate to what Amos is describing. Though who the hell knows if Amos has ever seen a crossbow in his life. Perhaps his world has moved past them, too, as they've moved past the need for a blade. (He does not, exactly, grasp what the speed of sound genuinely means.) ] But they're not worth much up close.

[ It doesn't sound as though Amos has much concern about that, though. He hands the weapon back. There's obviously no way to demonstrate here in this tiny space nor outside in the blackness, but: ]

You'll need to show me some time.

[ There's a distinctly amused air to Amos at the mention of crossbows. ]

Gun's a bit more versatile than one of those. Deadlier, too. That'd be a hell of a way to kill someone in my day. Attract more attention that it'd be worth. I could take this, [ and he takes the gun back, handles it with care, ensuring there's no chance it could go off even accidentally. Amos has had plenty of respect for his sword since starting to train with Geralt. The respect for a weapon is intensified here, ] shorten the barrel. You lose some of the range, but it's easier to conceal.

[ He's speaking from experience, too — this may be a re-creation of his favoured weapon, which is pretty much impossible to hide, but there was a time keeping things hidden was prudent. ]

Next time I'm at your place, I can show you. Set some bottles up on a ledge or something. Do some target practice. Not a bad way to pass the time.

[ That is of interest. That it can be concealed. No bow can ever be concealed and still retain any sort of range at all. Not that Geralt is particularly concerned about that, but even he often carries his swords off his back: usually tucked on his horse or slung over his shoulder in a way that makes him appear less armed, just so he can get a room for the night without folk thinking he's arrived to start shit. ]

Do that. I'd like to see. [ Sure. He'll take the offer. He wants to see how it works. Won't hurt to learn something new. Besides, he's ready to find his footing again. Try to leave behind what keeps bothering him. Amos has been a steady routine for the past couple of months; seems like a good place to start returning to form.

He draws his legs back up the platform, standing with one hand on the railing to help. He only came here to look in on the man. Not much seems to have changed, which is all that matters. At least he can leave here with one less thing on his mind. ] Bring your sword, too.

[ You know. Now that he's got one of his own, courtesy of one bard. ]

[ Amos nods. Checks the chamber, ensures it's empty. He's got an infinite source of ammo here, anyway, but he'll be stocked up for when he next goes over to Hunter's, full-sized shotgun and all.

(If people ever wanted to accuse Amos of starting shit, that's their business. If they want to push him into causing shit, sure, he'll do that too. Not really his problem if anyone wants to make him theirs. Sure as hell helps when you've got the dual threats of being stronger than just about everyone you come across and lacking a conscience to really give a fuck about the damage you might do too, though.)

He looks up when Geralt stands back up, cracks a grin at the mention of the sword he now has, courtesy of a mutual friend. ]

Sure thing. Got two hands, and all that. [ Though they're both sizeable weapons, considering, but he'll figure it out. Could cheat here, but where's the fun in that? ] I'll see you, same ol' time and place.

[ Right back to normal, like nothing ever happened. ]

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

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