[ 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

[gynvael]

[ A lot by multiple people? Not exactly. A lot by one person? That's another matter. Perhaps at this point, he should be used to someone who is neither sensible nor chooses to leave him the hell alone.

There's only a raise of an eyebrow in the other man's direction before he turns away, letting the blacksmith deal with the handsy customer. He doesn't know what his new friend is doing, and he'd rather not be involved in whatever it might be, even if it's pilfering something small. He's got plenty to deal with as it is.

He turns a corner, taking a path up the winding cobblestone roads. He's limping, a little, and truthfully doesn't care enough to hide it. He's tired. He wants some sleep that he knows he will not get. ]

We is a bold choice, considering I haven't even got your name. [ This should be the cue for Geralt to offer his name in return. He does not. ]

[priestified]

[ Maxwell only slips the other man a brief grin, as they make eye contact and Geralt raises a brow, that suggests he knows that Geralt knows. But, Maxwell has completed enough laps around the Earth (metaphorically) to know the signs of a man who has enough business of his own that he won't go sticking his nose into others'.

Unlike - he is aware - yours truly.

The sound of his heavy boots crunching along the cobblestone follows Geralt's somewhat unsteady walk home. His eyes are on the other man's gait, surmising what his injuries might be based on how it's affected his walk. ]

Now there's a problem that's easy to fix.

[ Does it bother him that Geralt demands credentials before sharing his own? Nope. Unfortunately. ]

Been called a lot of things by a lot of people over the years, heh, but lately it's been Father Maxwell. Not sure the title counts for anything here, or if I'll ever see the church again, but that's what I'll answer to.

[gynvael]

[ Since Maxwell does not demand credentials in return, Geralt simply doesn't give it. His gaze does shift over, though, for the first time. He looks the man over before glancing away again. ]

You're a priest. [ Some curiosity is there, but no judgment. Priests and priestesses on the Continent are of a varying sort; piousness is not an expected quality. But it is interesting. ] I suppose one could argue the gods can follow you across worlds.

[ He places little thought in faith himself. He spent his time at the temples, he's studied under a priestess, and he has taken the lessons he learned that matter to heart—but at the end of the day, there are other forces that spur him onward than a distant deity. ]

[priestified]

[ Maxwell's brows quirk upwards as Geralt gives him that brief once-over (a show of interest which will only encourage this chatty tag-along), but he only shrugs as if to say 'you got me' when asked about his profession.

That next bit, though - that makes him laugh out loud. It isn't a humorless laugh; quite the contrary. It's full of good humor. Just... the morbid kind. ]

God would have to be one salty bastard to follow my ass here.

[gynvael]

[ 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? ]

[priestified]

[ 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.