abraxaslogs | Open December Catchall

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Open December Catchall

WHO: Nadine and OPEN
WHAT: Horizon and Nott catchall for the month
WHEN: December
WHERE: Nott and The Horizon
WARNINGS: Will add as needed!

Nott

When not working - and with the weather turning, she's working more hours - Nadine can be found in the common room of the inn with a warm drink and a book, or at the lake's edge with a basket and heavy boots and cloak, gathering ingredients for the herbalist she works for, or behind the inn practicing with her fire magic. And of course she can be found at Nan Maeda's Tonics and Tinctures, the herbalist healer's shop where she's found employment. She mostly collects and prepares ingredients for her elderly employer, but she's learning and that's as important as the money.

Horizon

With the coming of the cold months, Nadine's domain reflects the season. Gone are the autumn leaves and the blue skies, snow covering the little slice of New England town that she's created for herself. The sky is overcast and white string lights and garlands have begun appearing. There's a towering Christmas tree in the square in front of the white wooden church, and the shop windows have old fashioned holiday displays in them. It bears a striking resemblance to something Norman Rockwell would have painted.

Nadine herself is often in the square, at the gazebo by the skeletal carousel, or in her own little cottage at the edge of 'town'. Easily identified as hers, as it's the only home with a shoveled walk and puffs of smoke coming out of the chimney. Sometimes the smell of baking or sound of music wafts out...

(Specific starters in comments, hit me up if you'd like one!)

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[Despite multiple warnings to do otherwise, Jaskier, of course, takes it upon himself to visit his friends. It is a bit funny in a way that Nadine is hardly the first to try to ward him off; now that he thinks of it, most of the people he calls friend now have attempted so. And yet! There he is, every time.

And if he is honest, if only to himself, he so badly desires company now. Where Geralt has gone to sulking alone after his plight -- perfectly suitable, considering his past -- Jaskier cannot find solace in being alone. He attempts it, to be fair. To shake himself of this terrible anxiety that has such a grip on his heart, even after his friend has returned, even after he has mostly been healed. He's been to the bathhouse of Cadens several times, stepped about in the desert and amused himself with flowers and shrubs. Yet none of it matches company, and this one, in particular, he seeks out because... well. He doesn't think Nadine should mind that he is not quite the chipper man he was before.

Yet, he's attempting to remember to be so. He wants to make an entrance, to find the ostentatious bard of a month ago, when he wasn't run ragged with worry and grief. He has to make an impression. So when Jaskier arrives to Nadine's domain, it is not on a horse like before. He is in fact on the back of a great gold bird, the colors of its feathers matching what Nadine's trees were once colored as. It gives a call like an eagle, the flaps of its wings sharp as it gently begins to lower near the edge of the town, following the curls of smoke in the air.

In his arms is a soft, teddy bear-like creature that is wiggling quite exuberantly, holding onto its hat with tiny claws. When the three land and Jaskier slides off the bird's back, the moogle begins floating with stray flaps of its bat wings, doing a twirl through the air as Jaskier smooths down the rich burgundies of his duvet, the furred collar of his cloak as white as wolf fur.]

Are you sure about this, Master Jaskier? There's already music playing! We're going to interrupt it, kupo.

Yes, yes. I can hear it. Be that as it may, Moglad, we're going to give her something much more exuberant, all right? It's all about the surprise. The...? [He waits for his apprentice to catch on.]

Showmanship!

Yes! There you are, lad. See? You've learned so much already.

[There's the faint sounds of bustling, and should Nadine decide to leave her cottage to investigate, she may be finding both bard and moogle equipped with lutes, singing a dueling duet together, with the shadowed, grey shades of musicians behind them.]

[Nadine's domain is, generally, a very quiet place. The only sounds are those of nature - wind through the trees, leaves on the ground, the patter of rain. Whatever sounds are in her own little cottage - music or the television. She likes it that way.

Like now. Curled up in a chair, writing into one of dozens of journals she's created, written in, and promptly destroyed. She doesn't journal to preserve thoughts, she does it to expunge them. But the sudden amount of sound outside snaps her to attention, journal vanishing from her hands as she rises to her feet. What in the world is going on out there?

Of course she's going to investigate. The sounds of Celtic-flavored Christmas ballads cease at once. She steps out onto her little stone porch-step, dressed in a white sweater-dress that matches the shade of her hair. The tips of her curled little horns peek out from the thick waves.

At first, she isn't sure exactly what she's looking at or hearing.

What the hell? Her lips purse in confusion as she tries to parse all of this. That's Jaskier, for certain. With a...musical cat-bat? and a phantom chorus of some kind. On her front lawn. Singing.]

...whatever happened to holding up a boombox and playing Peter Gabriel?

[Nadine just has to laugh. Not at Jaskier, but in sheer surprise and confusion. What is he doing? Even Larry had never shown up at her place to serenade her.]

[Once Nadine opens the door and steps outside, Jaskier raises his head and gives her the classiest wink one bard is capable of. The moogle spins and his tiny claws pluck the lute like he means to tear it apart... which is oddly nearly identical to how Jaskier is playing it with absolute ablomb.

It's not the reaction he wants, seeing her face, but it's also not terrible. It is only neutral enough that he continues the song through to its end, and the shades behind them go away. The giant gold bird, on the other hand, gives an appreciative trumpet of a sound.

His face drops a little.] A what? [And a who? Excuse you. He is not a Peter, whoever that is -- a frankly boring name if you ask him. He is The Lady Gaga. Of the Continent. Moglad's wings flutter frantically as he tips his head to the side. Did she not like it? he asks, and seems very invested in the answer.]

Oh, I'm sure she's simply stunned. That's all. [He responds quietly to the moogle, before turning back to Nadine with a smile, holding an arm up.] Hello again, my dear! You look as ravishing as ever.

Hi.

[Nadine is fighting a smile. This kind of thing probably shouldn't be encouraged...but for God's sake, there's something so honestly earnest about Jaskier and all of this that she can't help herself.]

That was...I'm speechless, Jaskier.

[All she can do is clap, for him and his....friend? Words are failing her. 'Stunned' is a very good word for what she is. This feels practically unreal.]

I can honestly say that no one has ever come to my house to serenade me before. I didn't think real people even did things like this.

[It was the stuff of television shows and teen romance books, an idealized and wholly fictionalized version of human behavior. Hyperbolic to illustrate concepts and ideas. But here he was, in the flesh - sort of - and Nadine can tell there's not a scrap of irony in any of the presentation. This is just Jaskier.]

[His smile in response is charming and very much the equivalent of a peacock spreading its tail. And flattered, of course. Moglad twirls through the air in victory, strumming his miniature lute. Both bard and bard apprentice give a bow, and with a pat on his bird’s side, the two follow the path to her front door.]<

What! Never? Then it’s very good I did it. I can assure you I am both real — relatively speaking — and it is not my first time doing so. It’s simply special now, doing it for a friend.

[Moglad isn’t real but he’s not bothered by the fact, either. He gives a little wave to Nadine, blowing a kiss after.]

Before he makes a nuisance of himself, let me introduce my apprentice, Moglad. He’s well on his way to becoming the best bard of the Horizon.

[The moogle flushes, giving Nadine a bow as he hovers in the air, with a Charmed to meet you, kupo!] I hope we’re not interrupting anything, but I did so want to surprise you.

You definitely surprised me.

[She inclines her head as the 'apprentice' is introduced, still not entirely sure what it is.]

And you're both very talented.

[Befuddled as she is by all of this, she can certainly recognize that Jaskier has a lovely singing voice. Nadine tucks an errant strand of hair back behind her ear, still standing in the doorway of her cottage. She knows she should offer an invitation to come inside, but it isn't something that comes easily. It's her private space, not somewhere she's let anyone into. Julie and Lloyd are welcome, of course, they're family. And Susan or Amos likely wouldn't be turned away at the door....

It's ridiculous, that she's gone to bed with the man but she's not sure about inviting him into her home. Compromising for the moment, she takes a step back, making more room for Jaskier to join her.]

To what do I owe the pleasure?

[Moglad is very bashful indeed with his new, sudden praise, his body trembling from the force of it. He flutters back a bit, clinging to his lute, and then eventually goes to hide behind the giant bird, which has sort of tucked into itself and sat upon the ground.

Well. He's not quite ready for the spotlight yet.]

Only for a visit to your lovely estate. [And though he glances behind her, he remains at the door. Despite his forced exuberance (and hopefully it does not appear so very forced), he did not miss that she was reluctant to move herself.

After all, a gentleman does not invite himself in.] The touch of frost attracted me. Though I suspect we are quickly approaching winter, Cadens does not reflect it. And truthfully, I miss it. [So he takes a step back, in turn, creating an impasse between this.] Would you care for a walk through it? I have... a lot of things to say to you. If you're in the mood to hear them.

[He doesn't mean for it to sound very ominous. It's simply... seeing her, in the quiet simplicity of this place, brings to mind how much she did for his friend. It is, in fact, the real reason he's here, even if he's loathe to think about it at all.]

I always liked winters in New Hampshire. The nor'easters would bring so much snow...those are storms that come in off the ocean in the north east.

[Nadine watches him curiously for a moment. Normally she'd assume that implies a need to talk about her or 'them' in some sense. But she doesn't get that. Despite Jaskier's tone, something about his choice of words implies a seriousness. The need for a sympathetic ear, maybe. Why he'd come to her...well. She is a good listener, and prefers to talk about other people as opposed to herself.]

Just let me get a coat and hat.

[She retreats into the cozy little kitchen of her cottage - one of only three downstairs rooms - and leaves the door for Jaskier to step inside if he'd like.]

The farmland's really nice with the snow. It's a pretty walk out there.

[She talks as she pulls on her coat and hat and pulls on a pair of matching boots. She looks particularly a part of this place right now, all in white with her white hair loose.]

[Okay, maybe "a lot" was too much, but he feels it's important enough to be spoken in person in the only way he is able. Of course, Jaskier is also very talented in making a few necessary words whole paragraphs that no one asked for, which is surely to be the case here, too.]

Why, of course. [Honestly, he does peek in, taking a step that shifts the air from freezing cold to a dry balm. Though the cottage contains some things he doesn't recognize, it is unmistakably as warm, the very form invoking that feeling of coziness. He pulls his cloak around him and the hood over his head, though the very nature of the Horizon itself would likely make it so such clothes are unnecessary.

Apparently the two of them take comfort in pretending.

In a world devoid of life, he wonders what animal provided the fur -- or what she imagines it to be -- for her coat. He can't help but think of a white wolf. Or those white winter rabbits. The style is quite unlike the ladies of his sphere, but it's flattering. It suits her. All that white pales her out; she becomes a spectre in the snow. Perhaps a noonwraith. A striking vision.]

Beautiful, indeed. [He smiles and, as they step out of the cottage, he offers an arm. It needn't be taken, of course.] What was it you were listening to? Before I interrupted.

[His tone indicates he feels no remorse for it.]

[After a moment's contemplation, Nadine takes the offered arm. Why not? He'd shown up and sang on her lawn. And besides, there's something enticing about strolling arm in arm along the snowy street with a handsome man.]

Oh, I had Christmas carols on. It's a winter holiday in my world...that's what all the lights are for.

[She waves her free hand at the strung lights up and down the street leading into 'town'. Instead of following it that way, she steers them away from town, to the rolling farmlands and the woods.]

It's half religious and half not. But there are some beautiful songs written for it. I like the old traditional ones. The Holly and the Ivy, In the Bleak Midwinter, Emmanuel...

[The ones from olden times, that had weight and meaning to them. And considering what Jaskier had serenaded her with, he might appreciate them. 'Modern' music must sound so strange to him...]

It meant a lot to me, when I was little.

[Her acceptance warms his smile further. Their arms fit together perfectly, offering a hint more warmth that a coat or a cloak can provide.] Christmas? Never heard of it, but. You know, going by the lights and the snow -- our lights are simply lanterns, of course -- it sounds a bit like Yule.

[The lights are as marvel to him as the music that came from nowhere. They look like tiny, colored flames, but they clearly aren't. There's no flickers, no shadows. They remain steady and bright.

Until she leads them away from the trail. He doesn't mind. There's still light to see, and it allows himself take a look at her beside him. Catching the way light moves across her horns.

He remembers holding onto them.]

A shame I don't know them, or I might've impressed you with that instead. [Though, like with Estinien, the idea comes. Of course he means to absorb music from other spheres when he can, when the others are willing. What other bard on the Continent could ever claim to hear music from such far away places?] Can you play one? Perhaps I can give a live performance. I have a rather good memory when it comes to song.

[Personally, he thinks he'll sing them better, and it would be enough to give her something that... means a lot. A sort of payment, in a way, for what he still means to talk with her about.]

It is sort of like Yule, if your Yule is the same as ours. But we think of Yule as an ancient holiday that's not really celebrated anymore. It's honestly a little complicated, but I'll give you the quick rundown. More than a thousand years ago a new religion started getting really popular. Christianity, that's how I was raised, actually. The belief is that there's one God, and He sent his only son, Jesus Christ, to be born of a human woman to save mankind from darkness. And while Jesus wasn't actually born on Christmas, we celebrate his birth that day. But also with a lot of traditions that held over from Yule, like the lights and the tree and the time of year we celebrate.

[It's all a mashed together hodgepodge of existing customs and religion, and the details of how holidays were taken and changed is on the depressing side and doesn't need to be explored right now.]

I grew up in a pretty heavily religious environment, so my Christmases when I was a kid were all about the Jesus part. But a lot of people don't celebrate it that way, they just celebrate the peace and goodwill to man part, and Santa Claus. Who's not a religious figure, he's like...a fairy tale magic guy. Who visits houses on Christmas Eve night to bring presents and goodies, and he wears a red and white fur trimmed suit with a hat and has flying reindeer.

[It all sounds a little like madness, just laid out like this. And this isn't what she'd thought they'd be talking about on their walking-out excursion, but Nadine doesn't mind. Even if talking about it is bringing up some of her own self-doubts and concerns about the state of her own soul.

She glances over at Jaskier then, eyebrows raising in curiosity.]

You want to hear a Christmas carol? Okay...yeah, I can do that.

[She'd sang in church as a little girl often. They all seem to flee her mind in the moment, as it so often goes, but she holds on to one that had always spoken to her as a child.]

Alright, this was my favorite when I was a kid. Something about it...I don't know, it just spoke to me. Things seem really simple, when you're a kid. It's called In The Bleak Midwinter.

[It doesn't occur to Nadine to just create a radio or music player to listen to, in the moment, so she clears her throat and shares a song of her own as they walk through the snow.]

[He purses his lips. Oh. Ouch. "Ancient." Yes, yes, he gets it. Their sphere, apparently, is a bit old-timey. However, he listens quite intently, spinning the rings on his fingers as their boots crunch through the snow in an even, steady rhythm. The snow, as it does, makes the quiet pillowed around them. Blanketed. It pulls up on every side and makes her voice feel louder, and yet all the more private for it.

Not that it's a private conversation. It's only holidays. A rather bizarre, busy-sounding holiday, but he supposes traditions from other spheres will sound that way to him. Besides, half the holidays that spread across the Continent were taken from elves, anyway.]

Complicated? Hardly. It's a large, cold nameday party with, er, a magic man included. All right, you lost me with the reindeer part. A hardy meal at the end of it all, I imagine?

[Look. Reindeer was good, when one could actually acquire it.

At her question, he nods eagerly.] Of course.

[Luckily, she's far more easily indulging him than most. He bites back any commentary he may make that a child's favorite song should be something called Bleak Midwinter, but "Nadine" and "bleak" are certainly two words that fit together rather easily.

Now it feels far more private. He closes his eyes as they walk, sure Horizon magic will ensure he doesn't trip onto his ass, so he can more concentrate on the words. Certainly bleak is a good descriptor. It paints a picture of something that is... well, terribly depressing, if you ask him, but Nadine's voice is a surprisingly soft mezzo-soprano, which does not so much echo as it takes in the silence from the snow around it. It's beautiful. And he's hardly the first to compliment other performers.

Jaskier opens his eyes when it's all done, at least hanging on to a bit of it. (And look, no tripping!) Before he plays it back, of course, he must ask.]

I cannot help but wonder where a child learns such a... song. Religion deep in its bones and a bit too slow to be any sort of helpful working song. And, gods, no peasant is coming up with that imagery. Something that should be ringing in some hallowed temples, I should think?

[Oooh, temples. So not his scene. But he can appreciate the makings of a fine tune, either way, whether it was written by priestess or poet.]

Oh my god, Jaskier, no one eats the reindeer, they pull Santa's sleigh through the sky so he can deliver presents. Look that part is...weird.

[Says the woman who just shared a song about the very unlikely circumstances of Jesus' birth. But the Santa stuff, that gets really bizarre when you examine it deeply.

But it's easier to comment on that right now than anything else. Memories are coming to her, of Christmas Mass and the smell of incense and candles. The songs in Latin, the ancient hymns... She shakes her head, looking away. There's a light prickling in the corner of her eyes and an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.]

I told you, I was raised in religion. Literally, for half of my childhood I was raised by nuns - women devoted to God and a religious life. We don't have temples, we have churches. Like the one in the middle of town, that white building with the steeple. But it's about the birth of Christ, and how He loves everyone who opens their heart to Him, no matter if they're rich or poor or how they've lived their life, you don't even need churches or priests, just...love in your heart for God. And God would protect and save you. And that was beautiful and important to me, when I was little.

[Now...well, she can't imagine God loves her anymore. There are some things that a person just can't come back from, she knows that. And it hadn't been God that saved her, when she was young. It has been the other.]

But it was actually written as a poem, originally, by just a woman who loved God. She wasn't a nun or anything, but her faith moved her to write something beautiful.

Shortly after he's gone by Julie's, Geralt makes his way towards a place he's not been since the very first time he entered: Nadine's strange white world, without doors or windows. He's curious how it may have changed, if it's changed at all. If she's anything like him, the shadowy children are likely gone. Who knows? Perhaps she's made a new home altogether.

Her domain is, as it turns out, still very white, but without the eerie blankness it once held. Instead, it's blanketed with a familiar thick layer of snow and bright decorations not unlike what he saw at Julie's. Just...with far more restraint. He glances up at the Yule tree as he passes by (or Christmas tree, as it were), walking through the little village until he finds Nadine by the only thing that has remained since he was last here: the carousel, with its skeletal horses.

No children, though.

He steps towards her, running his fingers over one of the horse's bony ribs. The same one he'd placed the figure of Cirilla upon. "You kept these."

Wearing her winter hat and coat, Nadine is contemplating whether or not to add a Nativity scene when Geralt finds her. She's torn, and not making any progress in her internal argument. She's glad for the distraction, and gladder still to see him.

"There he is." Nadine turns and offers a smile. "And I did. Sentimental value." Nothing further needs to be said. At least on that topic.

"How are you healing up?"

While she's had some updates from people who know Geralt, none from him as yet.

Weird? [That feels a bit generous.

He decides not to banter over the differences to temples and churches, which are about the same to him; it's all comes down to money and who wishes to claim it. Certainly the Cult of the Lionhead Spider is rather out of the running for a right proper church.

His brows raise as he listens. Wait, raised by nuns? Then... an orphan? A girl with no family?

It's too early to say. His fingers play with his rings as they walk, judging what she tells him now with what she told him then.] And I imagine you truly believed, then, if it was so important to you. [He was whisked away far too quickly to private studies, to the academies, then onwards to Oxenfurt, nestled in science and the liberal arts, to find any solid attachment to religion. He has plenty inspiration outside their... unique influences. And so here, now, he hears a new sort of viewpoint. A life far different from his own.

And yet, still incredibly lonely.] Did he ever speak to you, your God, this... this Christ? I've heard it's not such a rare occurrence, when one dissolves into belief. [He pauses. God would protect and save you.]] What, as a child, did you think you needed saving from?

[He imagined it wasn't as simple as a drowner infestation. A wild basilisk. Or a plague, quite yet.]

Little kids believe pretty much anything they're told. It was just part of life, for me. I was either in the children's home with nuns or with families attached to the church. And honestly at this point, it's not even about belief or faith.

[Nadine has seen the evidence of both God and the Other. She wraps her coat a little more snugly around her, looking downwards. 'Did he ever speak to you, your God? What a loaded question.]

God did talk to me, once. Sort of. Not when I was a kid, though. It was after the end of the world, there was...I don't even know what to call her. A prophet, a holy messenger, God's avatar amongst humanity, I don't know. But God worked through her. I, uh, I had already strayed from the faith, though. I don't...it's complicated. But God and I aren't on speaking terms anymore, really.

[It occurs to her now that she's probably already let the cat out of the bag, so to speak. Jaskier knows enough to start putting pieces together.]

And I just had a lousy childhood. Didn't you want to talk to me about something?

[How had they ended up talking about her like this?]

He accepts her explanation with little more than a vague sound. The wolf that sits at his keep serves not a dissimilar purpose, even if it'd once belonged to Jaskier, technically.

He sits at the base of where the horses are circled around, arms resting on his knees. She can, in fact, see just how he's healing if she knows where and how to look: not fully, but enough to be moving around decently. He hasn't shed any part of himself, entering the Horizon, injuries included. He never really does, ever. This place is nebulous, ever-shifting, as it is. He prefers not to contribute to that.

"Healing. Thanks to you." Her and Julie. He tilts his head, the smallest curve to his lips. "I found your gifts."

Only after he made it back to Cadens, but he had found them: small sweets that served absolutely no practical purpose but which Nadine had slipped him, anyway. There's something endearing in the gesture he can't deny. He'd left most of them for Ciri and Rinwell, but. The sentiment counts.

"I know you're healing, but does it seem to be on schedule? Pain's managed, I sent you with enough tonics?"

It's difficult to tell in the Horizon, even if he's the same as her and doesn't alter or clean things up in this realm. But his health is a concern to her, and she wants to make sure everything's going as it ought to.

"And those are to help, too. It's nice to have a treat after a rough time. Little comforts."

Often all there are to be found, really. Who doesn't enjoy a bit of candy, to ease the sting of whatever's weighing on the soul? After all he'd been through...

There's the smallest pause. He's aware Nadine's tonics were meant to last him after he returned, not during the trip of, but. Not much to be done about it. There are worse things than being tossed a few days further out than expected. At least he was within the vicinity of the desert at all. And he did manage to get there in the end.

"They got me into the city." Mostly. Jaskier rode with him the rest of the way, but that's a minor detail. She really does fuss, doesn't she? It doesn't bother him. He's just not altogether used to it.

"I'm fine. Promise. Should be back on my horse in couple more weeks."

The way he says it suggests that's his bar for recovery: whether or not he can ride as usual again.

"Mmmm." Nadine appraises him for another moment before nodding. "Alright. If you need more, you should be able to find them in the Free Cities."

But she imagines he won't bother, either way. As long as he's taking care of himself, she won't pester him further. And she knows who to ask to make sure he is taking care of himself.

"At least I know you're in good hands."

She'd be pushing much harder if Geralt were on his own. He strikes her as the sort who wouldn't rest up properly if he were left to his own devices.

[ Ciri's been a little hesitant using the long-distance communication when it's not for emergencies; she prefers the Horizon, as it feels the most like a place no one native to this world can access, even if they were to reach into someone's mind. The thought is grim and the paranoia perhaps over the top, but-- she is her father's daughter in so many ways. Geralt is cautious; she follows suit.

So Nadine will find a note in her domain at some point, about a week after their first meeting here. It asks for her to meet Ciri at a certain date and time, requesting a small favor and thanking her for making time.

When she finds Nadine waiting at the appointed rendezvous, Ciri trots up to the gazebo with a wave. ]

Nadine! I'm glad you could make it. I hope you're doing well?

[Nadine's a bit surprised at the note from Ciri, and curious. What sort of favor could the young woman want from her? She immediately assumes it's a request to send healing supplies, or something along those lines. Or maybe finding out something in Thorne, considering her location. Her mind, honed as it is by experience, assumes something's wrong.

So she's waiting at the time Ciri specified, dressed in a white knit sweater and black ankle length skirt. She's watching for the girl, and stands when she sees her approach.]

Hey. I'm fine. Is everything okay?

[ In fairness, Ciri could have specified it's nothing major, but she didn't think of that. As she approaches, she doesn't look upset, though. She looks rather cheerful, in fact. ]

Always a relief to hear. Everything's fine on our end as well.

I wanted to ask you a favor. I'd like to recreate the chocolate drink you showed me last time.

[ She says the word like it doesn't fit familiarly in her mouth, having heard it only the once before, but it seems the drink itself left an impression. ]

Will you show me how?

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Open December Catchall

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