[ 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

[coerthantorment]

Estinien thinks about that and then nods. The terminology for that sort of thing has gotten complicated, as of late, but Geralt's distinction does seem relevant enough to acknowledge.

"Aye. Not in the grand scheme of things, it would seem. We never had cause to consider the idea of traversing to entirely new universes before ending up here. The shards were surprising enough on their own."

He pauses for a moment, and then adds:

"I've sometimes wondered if our worlds are meant to be the shards of the Singularity's whole. 'Twould fit with the Abraxian's conception of it, at least."

As annoying as it is to think about the Source being a shard of an even greater Source. It's all a bit much, really.

[gynvael]

What, a world within a world? Like one of those nested dolls? His brows furrow. Perhaps. But it's as Estinien said: his own was never a shard of anything. They're individual worlds, collided and merged into one.

He needs someone else to talk to about this. Who is the problem. Maybe it's worth speaking not to another Summoned, but to someone at the academy in the city. A native of this world, familiar with its history.

The edge of Estinien's domain draws near. He sighs, and it isn't really directed at the elf at all. It's just—every time he learns something new, it spawns a thousand more concerns.

"Thank you for the sheep, I suppose. And the headache."

[coerthantorment]

Estinien can relate to that, at least. He shrugs his shoulders, his wings unfurling, looking up towards the peaks of his artisan mountains. He's not worried about Geralt doing anything to his domain on his way out.

"You're welcome," he says, an expected amount of cheek in his tone. He gestures vaguely at Geralt's entire self. "Good luck with your... situation."

Whatever the hell is going on in Geralt's life he wouldn't know where to start, and it's clearly not desired. So, instead, that's how Estinien bids his farewell, leaping up into the sky and taking wing, circling over the mountains and back towards his flock