abraxaslogs | [open] january catchall

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[open] january catchall

Who: Alucard + open
When: All of January
Where: The Horizon; various haunts around Cadens (graveyard, Hall of Relics, and a tiny little dive bar)
What: January dhampir business
Warnings: Added as needed

A. I have stood here before

You're in my light.

[The comment comes from a few headstones over, where a pale man kneels atop canvas. In front of him are pieces of a headstone, the pieces of it scattershot in size but clearly in the process of reassembly. A few have already been rejoined, and the buckets to the man's right makes it clear why light is important: he is in the midst of reassembly, and there's only so much daylight during the winter months.

To the man's left, there are reassembled stones now standing tall. Further along the right, two remaining piles of rubble that will soon get attention.

There's a sigh, and Alucard looks up.]

Yes?

B. inside the pouring rain
[It's always raining in Alucard's domain, the constant fall of it soothing. Rarely does he walk the late autumnal woods, letting himself get lost in the fog and the dark, twisting trees whose last few colorful leaves cling to branches. Instead, he sleeps, curled up under a pile of furs in front of a wood burning stove, or he stands over a kitchen work bench, hands kneading dough. Or fluting a pie shell. Or chopping something for a stew. Anything to keep his hands busy and mind focused on a single task before him.

His Horizon always works to ward off visitors. A twisting, impossible path. Too thick fog. Trees that seem to point in the wrong direction. But in the center, there is always a smell. Bread, sometimes a normal, hearty loaf, other times a sweetened cozonac. Plăcintă stuffed with apples and pears. The promise of some roasted beast with herbs. The smell leads to the true path of the place, and eventually, the front door of a hut.

The hut's door knocker is held aloft by a metal bat affixed to the door. The first knock reveals no response. The second, a tired looking dhampir with flour on his face, shirt, and forearms - the sleeves have long since been rolled up.]

It is remarkable how consistently people think a lack of response to a knock on the door is an invitation in.

C. with the world turning circles
[It was Gideon who had turned Alucard onto the existence of The Surly Wench. A tiny thing, not larger than two apartments put together. Enough where too many people meant that folks were turned away, and familiar faces were given some preferential treatment. She might've commented on the waitstaff, he's never much noticed or cared. The few times he's gone since, they've been polite, given him space, and he's made sure to say thank you on his way out.

Polite. Not a regular, just someone who breezes in when there's money for something beyond masonry supplies at the graveyard. Two glasses of wine and the cheapest food on the menu.

It's colder than usual tonight, which is the only reason Alucard's not curled up in his wolf form, already fast asleep. The wine's gone, but there's a bowl of soup in front of him that he's taking his time in getting through, writing in a small notebook every so often. He's nearly done with the graveyard's reconstruction now. He has to figure out what's next.

Moreover, his quiet work means that his seat isn't vacant for the small group of people wanting to get inside and out of the cold.

He isn't sure he'll see a familiar face, scanning the small queue.]

D. running 'round my brain

--That's two rooms over, through your left.

[Alucard's come to know the Hall of Relics well by now. Being asked by another museum goer for directions towards you know that one weird taxidermy thing they try to ignore but still have out? is an easy enough question to answer, and Alucard was meandering towards that area anyway. The exhibit area before it has a new installation of early bestiaries, featuring desert animals both living and extinct. That's where he heads, making no sound as he moves across the stone floor.

Standing in front of one of the cases, Alucard understands he's looking at one of the older chaigon relatives. It is spikier, but the colors are still terribly familiar. He's seen them out in the desert before, but always given them their space. It is the style that has his eye though, for it and all the handwritten text is achingly familiar to him. This is all pre-printing press work, and that means all the little gold foil details on the page are also done by hand. The application is sheer perfection, and only a few flecks have flaked off over the centuries, it seems. He leans in for a closer look.]

Yes, I think you're a little easier to deal with in your current form.

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But you've now gone through and experienced it, however the mechanism functions.

[Alucard wants to make sure he is understanding the technical parts of this, but that seems a prelude to true explanation.

He closes his eyes, focusing on the warm the fire casts. How lucky a thing it is to be sitting here at all, unchanged in comparison to the other two. When he does open his eyes, there's a pop from the logs, and with it, a growl from his own stomach.

Right, food.

The dhampir grabs a slice of bread and takes a small, delicate bite.]

Good bakery, this.

Mm-hmm. [ He hesitates. As with many things, it's more complicated than what he's described. Getting into it involves too much bullshit, though. So he doesn't. ] It's possible something occurred during the Dimming that sparked the phenomenon.

[ Whether that's the Dimming itself or the result of too many bodies in the crater fucking about near a powerful monolith, he can't say. Might be both.

Either way, it's happened. And it isn't the foremost problem he's working to solve. There are more pressing matters than how these memories came to him. The shifting winds in Cadens, Jaskier, Yennefer. The Singularity itself. What it might mean should it dim or collapse entirely, knowing what he now knows.

He stuffs bread into his mouth thoughtlessly. ] Got it from Sam.

[ Where food is concerned, it's exchanged hands between them frequently. Just how it goes: he brings Sam meat, Sam brings him any excess of what the woman he calls Magpie might've dropped off at his door. Occasionally liquor is involved. ]

Noted, I'll ask him for the address.

[He needs to think about food that isn't just raw whatever he can hunt down in an alley. Alucard knows that, and a good bakery is a step forward.

But the rest. He's getting the outline of an outline. What caused the thing, not the nature of what happened therein. Is it a struggle for articulation? Possibly. The whole of something so huge that just giving the rough shape requires starts and stops.

That's fine. Beyond them, desert owls hoot into the night.]

I hope that's the case at any rate. If the thing is predictable, then it can be anticipated, even if the aftermath is-- [He trails. Whatever in the fuck this is.] Enough to diminish sunbeams, we'll say.

[He's not understood the focus on Arcana here, but Jaskier's designation has long since made since. That it helps with metaphor is a bonus.]

[ Truthfully, Geralt just doesn't know where to start even if he were to want to tell. Julie had asked him to start from the beginning, and he had, with the same pauses and skips. There's just too fucking much.

An outline's about as good as it'll get.

His expression flickers when Jaskier is mentioned. Diminished. Yeah. Not forever, he thinks. Jaskier's been through a lot, and he imagines given time, his friend will find his own way again. Still. He does want to help, and he isn't entirely certain how. Or if he even can. Experience tells him often, there's only so much you can do from the outside.

He moves quietly past the matter of Jaskier. It feels too personal to get into. Like it isn't his story to speculate upon with Alucard. He supposes, if Jaskier wanted to share, he would with Alucard on his own. ] I remember meeting Ciri now. Raising her.

[Alucard didn't push Jaskier in the dive bar when this all first surfaced. He absolutely does not push Geralt now about elements that are not his to share. He feels strange enough going against the convention of don't ask that has grown between those from Geralt's sphere and himself. Prodding would be worse.

Munching on the bread also helps. The crust is thick. Hearty. Enough that the bitemarks show precisely where his fangs are.]

That's quite a few steps ahead of the girl that lurked in shadows when Thorne shoved us near the Horizon.

[Progress, but not for good or ill. Just time moving as it does, and no judgement associated. Alucard knows there's more to be had.

He takes another bit of bread instead.]

[ By now, he's used to watching Alucard eat with his fangs, but the bite marks are still...intriguing. He's never seen a vampire simply not drink blood or show any desire to. He knows Alucard is only half, but. Still.

He picks at his own bread. His expression is thoughtful. ] Yeah. Seems a lot happened. [ To say the least. ] There are worse things to recall.

[ Some memories, he would not hand over now that he has them. Besides, what would be the point? To go backwards? That isn't what he wants. He knows more now. And he wants to believe it'll help him. Protect her. More than he could before. ]

[He's got a strong preference for blood sausage. But-- okay really? A lot happened?

The dhampir lets out a soft snort, his voice as dry as the desert they're in]

Your mastery of the understatement never fails to stun me. [But not to silence, it seems.] But the idea of going back in any capacity? That's concerning.

[But that isn't the point either. Geralt is dancing around giving any context, and Alucard doesn't feel right pushing for more. The bread is gone soon after, and Alucard's eyes drift from the fire up to the moon.] Your memories sound more balanced in experience than his.

[ He looks up, startled. Is that what Alucard believes? He knows Jaskier said it was as though they went back, but he hadn't thought it to be literal. ] We didn't go back. They're just visions.

[ If there are physical changes, he imagines whatever magic has resulted in this has impressed it upon them, too. He's stepped into another world before. And he remembers being pulled here. It'd been disorienting. A rush, a lurch. Hell, he hadn't even arrived with a shred of clothing on his back. Not something he slept through and awoke in the same position. Not even his campfire disturbed.

He hums. Maybe, maybe not. ] I've had more time on this earth.

[ To have shit happen to him, he means. ]

Back, visions, however one wants to phrase it. [He's not being clear, maybe it doesn't matter. With his eyes skyward, he misses the look on Geralt's face. That may be for the better.] If I have to experience more time in Wallachia outside of my current memories, I-- [The sigh that comes out is tired.] Probably will just come out here and live only as a wolf if my crypt isn't built yet.

[Which is to say that living in a graveyard cactus? Total step up from the worst instinct.

But to the point made, Alucard can only shrug.]

You have. And I've seen people many years older than you handle things worse. [This isn't about him though.] And it doesn't mean I'm still not concerned about Jaskier.

[ Ah. That's what weighs on Alucard's mind. The idea that he may have to live through some further tragedies of his own. It speaks to the bleakness of Alucard's life that his thought is it'll be full of horrors, but knowing what he does—Geralt can't blame him. Alucard's probably right.

His gaze lowers to the fire. ] I know. [ He's worried, too. ] But he'll find his feet again.

[ It's what he believes. Jaskier is not faint of heart. He has a forgiving heart, but Geralt knows better than to mistake it for a soft one. ]

Every world holds the potential for pain, Alucard. Here or home. [ He's suffered on both. They all have. And they all bear it the same. Even if he failed to remember what he does now—it's not as though they've been living amongst only sunshine here. ]

[Alucard lets the discussion about Jaskier and the greater arc of what happened in his and Geralt's sphere go for now. He'll ask again later, maybe, when the time feels more correct. He isn't sure when that might be, but clearly this is not the correct moment. Instead, Alucard's gaze is entirely on the fire now, the flames casting reds and yellows against his too pale skin.]

Here holds far fewer expectations and permits a certain luxury of anonymity. The most people do on my doorstep now is come to pay respects to the dead. They don't even know I'm there.

[An all together far more agreeable existence than being The Alucard and everything going to shit from that.

For a moment, Alucard's eyes flick skyward. He considers. Then stands.]

Excuse me for a while. I'd like to take advantage of the open space.

[He's a wolf before he even leaves Geralt's sight, and then gone a few moments later in a flash of white fluff. He moves some ways out though before this next part. Alucard's come to assume that Geralt's hearing is no less sharp than his own, and it's going to just suck so much if he's close.

There's a sudden, sharp howl from the direction Alucard departed in. Then another. A third. It becomes a full performance, with responses from what may be coyotes even further away.]

[ Mm-hmm. Geralt absorbs that without comment. He is not here to lecture, so he does not. He lays back as Alucard goes off to do what wolf things a dhampir is inclined to do. Howl, apparently. It's not unsettling. He's more than used to hearing the sounds of the woods, and in some ways, it's almost comforting. He waits until Alucard returns, the camp already packed for the morning.

Come sunrise, they leave. The cave he seeks is easy to reach, but as described: once they've entered further down, there's a small entrance that frankly his shoulders will not possibly fit through. It's large enough for a mid-sized wolf, though. Inside, he can hear a hissing, the sound of basilisks nesting. Not too many, but a good amount. He knows if they are drawn out, it's liable to destroy the shed skin in the room next to them.

Which he also shows Alucard, stepping around some scattered bones to reveal it intact in a corner: nearly crystalline clear, shaped like a lizard the size of a hound. Not difficult to fetch, but delicate. ]

I'll stay out here. Take care of any strays that slip through.

[A little or a lot of howling is good for the soul. And it is for Alucard, at least for now. There's a catharsis in howling for no reason other than desire, and when he comes back, the wolf flops down next to whatever warmth remains from the fire and lets the rest of the night's noise carry on without him.

He's a person when sunrise comes, but only because it seems better for approaching the cave. It isn't difficult terrain, but boots can be sturdier than paws.

When they reach the problem entrance, Alucard crouches down beside it, careful as he runs his hand from one side of the entrance to the other. He hmms thoughtfully over the hissing.]

Sounds wonderfully straight forward.

[They're words said without an ounce of sarcasm. With that, Alucard is not a wolf, but instead a series of bats. Better for sounding like a natural cave inhabitant.

What he finds inside is a room that if he really wanted to, he could be a person in. It is worth considering, based on how delicate his nose is, but that's rather the point of vampire healing. Even if struck, it would delay him only a moment.

The bats find their place near the ceiling, eyes watching. Observing. Seeing which of the basilisks are least likely to be asleep and ruin what comes next,]

[ Wolf or not, Geralt speaks to Alucard all the same: which is as needed and not much more. He seems unconcerned if he receives a reply or not, understanding that Alucard is likely listening.

Straightforward is the point. Good to know Alucard agrees. He picked up this job more to get his mind off shit than the coin. Not that coin isn't a bonus. They could sure as hell use it. Their damn place is growing crowded and he thinks, given that Sam's has also now filled back up, well.

They're going to need a bigger home.

One eyebrow lifts as the flap of leathery wings fills the cave. That's. Hm. New. ] Have fun.

[ Said as flatly as always. He is at the ready, sword drawn and loosely in hand. Some are undoubtedly bound to slip through, but a small nest of basilisks is nothing to be especially concerned about. They aren't anything like the ones back home. Sure as fuck nothing like the ones that came through that portal. ]

[What happens next is slow, then far too fast. For a few impossibly infinite minutes, the bats continue to watch the pile of basilisks. They're far too still, not even a flutter of their wings comes through to the other side. And there it is. The things are content. Starting to slumber.

In a single mad moment, there's the crunching of bone. Hissing and spitting of creatures in pain, the sound of something metal hitting against a rock. A sole survivor comes fleeing out of the nesting area in a fit of madness, and after it comes Alucard's voice.]

There should be one heading towards you! And then pass through whatever bag you want to carry these back in!

[ The warning is not needed, but appreciated. Geralt pierces through the lizard with his sword, and peers a bit casually into the gap that Alucard has disappeared through. Sounds...mm. Bloody. But not like Alucard needs any help, so Geralt simply stays out of the way.

He has not intended to take any of the basilisks back, but it's not a bad idea. One or two, at least. He'd rather not slow Roach down, and his main purpose is the crystalline skin.

So he does, in fact, toss the bag through: a leather satchel that can fit about two smaller basilisks or one of the larger ones. ]

I need the tails in one piece. [ You know. In case any have been torn to shreds. ]

Understood. We can also just skin them outside the cave, to maximize the haul. Can't easily do it in here.

[If there's elbow room, then all the better. For now, Alucard is careful as he packs the corpses into the bag. He goes by size - two smaller ones into the bag proper, and a larger one resting atop to be skinned.

It means sliding the bag back through far more carefully, but worth it. And better not to waste the death involved.

Once the bag is out, the bats follow, until Alucard reconstitutes himself. He has a little bit of splatter on his face, but that's it.]

If you can show me how the skin is removed, I can help with the rest.

Not that. [ He tips his head, for Alucard to follow him into the open mouth within the cavern that is nearby that he'd peered inside earlier. In it is where the crystalized skin sits, shed some time ago by a snake-like creature twice the size of any of those small lizards. It isn't liable to crumble, but it's still brittle, prone to being used as nesting material by the basilisks.

This is what he's after. It's what he can't move by himself, and what he hadn't wanted to risk the basilisks coming out of their nesting hole to destroy it as he's taking it. ]

Take one end. I'm told it dissolves in water.

[Alucard doesn't hesitate. But he makes a point of moving quietly, in case any remaining creatures want to cause a fuss. He wouldn't be surprised if that is the case, and should it be, well. Bats are liable to do the least damage to the precious skin.

He would normally remark about the process, or want to delve into the science of it all. This is not the time nor the company to do that in, and so Alucard takes a long moment to observe how the skin sits. Anything that might crack. The concern of moving the thing.]

Understood.

[Feather light fingers slight under the skin, lifting from below and testing for cracks and sags there. Nothing, and it is the easiest thing to lift and put the crystalized skin into secure housing.

And so it goes, until everything is packed away, no skin left behind. Alucard straightens up, casting his eyes around the cave one last time before turning to Geralt.]

If you need a second set of hands in the future, I am willing.

[Thank you. I needed some slight violence.]

[ Alucard certainly has more delicate hands than he does, so he lets the dhampir take care of the bulk of the lifting. They pack it away, in a crate that should hold firm until they get back. If it doesn't, he supposes it's still worth the trip out here. He just won't get paid the full amount, which he's accepted is a possibility. Such are the risks.

He lifts the crate onto one shoulder, as they make their way out of the cave. As far as hunts go, this was an easy one. In and out. Not even two days have passed. He'll be back in the city in another day. ]

Mm-hmm. [ Sure. He'll remember that. He tilts his head. ] Running on ahead?

[ He doesn't mind, if Alucard wants to take off back to his cactus. Horses are quick but obviously a preternatural dhampir-shaped wolf is quicker. He doesn't expect Alucard to wait for him now that they're finished. ]

I'll take the slow road.

[It's nice, being out in the wilderness again. Having the quiet permission to run and howl at night, all while not worrying about things back home.

Geralt and Roach are good company. He isn't going to take it for granted.]

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[open] january catchall

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