abraxaslogs | [ OPEN/SOME CLOSED ] if I had to do it over, I'd do it all again

Then the non-asymmetrical brim. It can be repurposed if it strikes you.

[Feathers? Alucard can't hide the side-eye he offers the bard. Subtle was never a skill he had, and the question feels like a particular swerve off the regular path.

But he can answer the question all the same.] I recall that male peafowl have long tailfeathers that look like a coat unto themselves. Green, with spots at the end that look like eyes. [Probably extra enough.]

Hmm. A good recommendation, actually.

[See? This is easy. Hat talk. The peak of importance in his life. He pulls the brim down lower, shading his gaze. Certainly it promises he won't catch another glance at the sky anytime soon.

A statement piece, one may say.]

Ah, yes, I'm quite aware. Have a white one in my little space. Gift from a friend after you last came by. [He eyes the seller who has long given up on making a sale, as if daring him to ask about it.] Unfortunately, I need a real bird. Seems a bit cruel to make one only to pluck his feathers off.

[The soft little hmmm translates as I know, but Alucard doesn't linger on it much. Instead, he watches as the bard pulls the hat down over his eyes, and all talk shifts to feathers.]

A swallow, perhaps. Their blues are striking, and I imagine would compliment whatever you intend to wear the hat with.

[Still. Something's off.]

I was on my way to have lunch, if you're inclined?

[He was not, but the question feels like it is worth asking now.]

A swallow! Now, that is an idea. I do love a good blue.

[He wouldn't mind creating a little swallow, either, if he must. Perhaps he will simply wait for a bird he crafts to lose a feather. Red certainly has before. Part of the magic that makes them real, he supposes.

Thanks, Yennefer. His magic has smoothed itself out, from what he can tell. The problem that created the disruption has been replaced with a larger, more harrowing problem. It makes Geralt's kidnapping feel like a trifle in between.

Jaskier throws over a coin to the all too exhausted seller, with an extra for the time spent. He walks out wearing his new purchase, giving Alucard a look of surprise. Lunch, was it?

He knows what this may lead to. But honestly, he'd still rather not be alone. It's far more easy to be morose. And that Alucard should invite him anywhere was a rare experience indeed.] All right. Plenty of choice between the taverns.

[A swallow it is then, and the whole thing ends. Alucard doesn't need to suggest other birds, and the milliner gets a good enough tip for dealing with them both.

Lunch was going to just be a food cart in the far corner, serving some actually very good tripe sandwiches, please and thank you. However, strange times call for small comfort, and Alucard is confident that if the tavern worked for his catharsis, it might help explain....whatever strange texture he keeps brushing up against.

So he moves them both out of the centralized markets, down smaller lanes until the sign for the Surely Wench comes into view. It was where Gideon had hauled his miserable ass months ago (she also did flirt with the waitstaff that time) and as much as a tiny dive bar as it may be, it also is small. Quiet during the day. And he gets left alone.

Alucard slips in first. Nods quietly to the woman at the bar (short, curly black hair, a good smell memory, and the kind of bar tender who only talked with you if you looked as if you wanted conversation) and goes to one of the few tables in the place. The lighting isn't as sketchy during the day time.

Hell, it feels like way less of a divebar by day.]

The soups are usually good, the rice platters with grilled chicken are better.

[As they walk, instead of filling the silence with idle chatter -- practically Jaskier's greatest skill, really -- he plays with the idea of this swallow. He cups his hands around each other, and when he opens them there sits a slightly angry-faced swallow, squat and fat, but with a brilliant blue sheen to its feathers, deep as a sapphire. It looks up at him and chirps happily, bouncing up his arm until it can flutter up to his shoulder.

It really is a cute little thing. In time, it might not mind losing a feather. He'll even share his lunch with it in exchange.

By the time he's looked up from the work, they're. Ah. Tavern. Table. Alucard really suits the place, though. Quiet, with appropriate ambiance with lit candles and the smell of -- was that sage? He's pretty sure it's sage.]

Ugh, no soup. I've had plenty of soup lately. [The complaint is possibly the first time he's sounded Jaskier-y; the thought of the slop the Witchers claimed was soup in Kaer Morhen is enough to make his stomach turn.] Rice, though. Exotic. That sounds much better.

[Something that's about as far as what he recalls having on the Continent is the best choice. He offers a finger to the swallow and helps it down to the table.] How is this? [He gestures to the bird.] The color's a bit dark, but I like it.

[Alucard understands and enjoys the nuances of silence. Companionable is his favorite kind, the one where you trust the other person enough that you don't feel the need to say anything at all. He is also skilled at enduring the awkward silence.

But this falls into the category of strange. Jaskier doesn't do quiet, not really, even if he's doing magic.

Thank goodness the swallow fills a little, and no one blinks twice at bringing a bird into the bar.]

No soup it is. [No one taught the Witchers how to cook did they?

After a few moments, Alucard catches the bartender's eye, and she walks over with an air of familarity towards the dhampir. Their exchange is pleasant and familiar enough, and Alucard's made a point of requesting two of the chicken platters. Extra bell peppers, please.

Once hat's done, all eyes turn to the bird.]

The blue is rather nuanced. It'll match the hat nicely.

[--Oh. Duh.] Did you want anything to drink? Slipped my mind.

[Absolutely no one did. And it's a shame. Surely they had all the time in the world in winter to perfect their dishes, and they served mushrooms floating in water.

If anything serves to brighten Jaskier's mood, even a bit, it's watching the bird hop across the table, studying its environment. He may keep it around, just for fun. Swallows. Hadn't Ciri mentioned swallows at some point? It doesn't really look much like her, except for the frown to its gaze.

Sort of the way she'd looked at him when she'd cornered him with what happened?]

Why, thank you. You know me and nuance. Hand in hand. [He gives the bird a scritch under its beak, which ruffles the feathers around its head.

Ah. Drink? Gods, he'd drink the roof under if he could. Perhaps not on his friend's tab, though, or his own. (Surely Geralt is going to ask where their stash is dwindling off to.)] Mm. I could go for it, a nice, full-bodied wine. Already had a bottle today, though. Or. Two. One and a half, specifically.

[Unfortunately not full-bodied. Only cheap.]

The closest of companions, yes.

[Alucard knows his sarcasm drips through, but he also doubts Jaskier will mind. He's never minded matching wit for wit, and--

--okay the bird is just going to hang out, isn't it? Alucard accepts this after a moment of offering the thing a side eye. It is content, and that is the best anyone can ask for these days.

The dhampir is about to stand and head over to the bar, but a bottle? Nearly two?

Alucard's ass is right back in his seat. His gaze does not move to Jaskier though. It stays ahead, towards the door and the bar, watching the world go by.]

In that case, perhaps it is better to let your liver have a little bit more time to process

[He will not violate the sacred, unspoken rule. You don't ask after particulars. You let someone decide when they are ready and willing to share and you don't prod or poke before that time comes.] And to find whatever your version of my graveyard is. Alcohol is only so useful.

[Ah, he's done that thing where he's said too much, hasn't he? Well, fuck it. Even on a good day (which today is certainly not), Jaskier never has much interest in being deceptive.

It's only -- wait, why is he sitting back down.

Jaskier wrinkles his nose.] I can handle my wine fine, thank you. I'm sure my liver is... quite liver-y.

[It's only half a protest, though. He could get up and get more himself, but Alucard has a point. The more he drinks, the more pathetic he's bound to become. And he does not want to be pathetic. Even if he's not feeling in very tip-top shape.

At least he has a hat. And a bird. That's two more things than he had before.]

Whatever version...? I don't, unsurprisingly, spend much time hanging about cemeteries. Except when I'm filling them with plants against their owners' will, apparently. [Which he has not been doing for a while now. He should go check on them. Surely the cactus is fine, or Alucard would tell him otherwise. What of the blackberry bushes...? They should be fine. Yennefer's, ah, method of fixing his magic was undeniably fruitful.] Oh, you mean less literally. A sort of project which I entirely engross myself into in order to push away the darkness beginning to bark and claw at the edges of my mind? Mmm. [He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. Not much to do with them now he hasn't a drink.] Had one. A good one, even. Can't do it here, however.

[The look Jaskier is offered at the protest of being able to handle his wine could stop an arrow. Alucard has seen Trevor Belmont behave this way before, and he is not going back to dealing with the Trevor Belmont that stumbled across his crypt in Gresit. If if that Trevor is named Jaskier and up until very recently, was not like that at all.

In fact, that he was not like Trevor at all is cause for actual alarm.

But he's still talking. And talking, teasing out what Alucard thought was an obvious point and--

there. That'll do.]

Yes, Jaskier, that's what I meant. [And he even manages it kindly. Gently and without being a sarcastic dick.] You have your music. [That seems obvious.] But tell me what you were going to do.

[If anything, the mention of his music sours Jaskier a little more. Yes, he has it. But music is more than simply having the talent. Does it mean anything anymore, if he goes back to it? Music, in the grand scheme of demons and wars and the dead, suddenly feels very, very small.

His heart hurts as he looks away, remembering his lute. It was so different, thinking it had only been left on the Continent. Without his hands, she was still a beautiful, perfect creature. Now she's gone. Left behind in Oxenfurt, splinters that have been picked at by chickens and children alike.

He will never hold her again. Even if he returns, somehow. And quite suddenly, he's not sure how soon that may happen again.]

It's a bit hard to explain. [His voice goes soft, watching a pretty barmaid walk by with a balanced tray of steaming stew bowls. Oh, you know, I only started my own elf-smuggling operation, and, really, it was going quite swimmingly. Nothing gives a man more meaning in his life than shoving a few bodies onto ships and hoping for the best.]

I seem different, don't I? From, say, a week ago. I don't think you've ever approached me so delicately.

[He is not sarcastic, either. In fact, he's sort of very thankful for it.]

You've done as much for me after my setbacks.

[Well, the one big, nasty setback that resulted in that cactus among so many other things, but the point still holds. Alucard pauses, considering how much further to push. He knows that he never likes it when there is demand, just as he grates against too much emotional plying of prodding. It may be true that Jaskier has been the most consistent presence in his life for months now, but that comes with an undue emotional burden that may very well break whatever has been carefully reassembled.

So Alucard doesn't wander down that path. He keeps his eyes on the swallow instead, watching it pass a sour face as another order of food that isn't theirs passes by.]

I won't ask you for words you don't have either.

[He. Well. Jaskier shifts, and he accepts that. It's sort of a compliment and sort of not, but Alucard isn't wrong. He felt he needed to be delicate. And certainly he'd learned far more than he ever expected --

It's a stark reminder that he is not the only one who's ever suffered. That there is much more significant suffering than his own.

Which he knew. He thinks of it every time he sees Geralt's face. Going on, as if the loss of so much of his family at the hands of Ciri could not be so devastating. Jaskier does want to go on. He simply isn't sure how to.

He fiddles with his fingers, drawing them in circles of the table. Trying not to think about how those three fingers no longer have sensitivity in the tips. The wood of the table is simply a surface.

It bubbles to his lips. I was tortured. It's only one thing in a million things that happened in a year, but it's this one that hurts him, personally, the most. The one he wants to speak of and doesn't. He bites his lips, surprised to find his eyes prickling. Quickly, he wipes them before anything other than a bit of extra glassiness can occur.

He would be dead if it weren't for Yennefer. A debt he never, ever thought he would hold.]

Even when I think of how to explain it, it slips away from me. I know what's happened, but the very explanation of it is ridiculous. Impossible, even. [And he has spent hours pondering how exactly it's happened, as if it will change anything. A human desire for understanding, even mired in so much magic bullshit.] I considered the Singularity was messing about in my mind. [He starts, in explanation, then stops, frustrated. The swallow settles down and tucks its feet underneath itself, as if waiting for him to find his words.]

It sent me back. Essentially. One would safely assume it was the Singularity, at least, considering its -- its everything.

[It's not a very good explanation, as things go. But it's an attempt. It's definitely going swimmingly.]

[Alucard boops the swallow gently, allowing Jaskier the dignity of fiddling without looking at it. The bird is in fact a very good distraction, as it allows the focus not to be on the bard as he works through this raw...everything. Because that is the only way Alucard can think of what he may be going through right now, and he understands that. How it makes articulation impossible, makes one just want to thrash and howl and tear out of their own skin.

This still feels like asking too much, even when Jaskier does find words. When he does, Alucard sits up just a little bit straighter, making it clear Jaskier has the dhampir's full attention.]

Back back. And...time unfolded as it does?

[It is a simple prompt. A yes or no, nothing else to elaborate on. What it isn't is a distraction.

No, that's for the food that is placed on their table. Two large platters that feature a mound of rice in the center, and long kebabs of chicken meat marinated in paprika and cumin and coriander and all other manner of things to allow for smokiness to ring through. On other skewers are bell peppers and charred onions. Simple food, but filling.

Alucard murmurs a soft Thank you, Beatrice before his eyes temporarily turn to the bard again.]

To my sphere.

[Internally, he cringes. It sounds so. Simple. Oh, you know, a hop through a dimensional portal -- if he was Ciri, child of Destiny, perhaps it'd be that bloody simple. He doesn't know. He has yet to ask her. It bothers him he doesn't remember the journey. Didn't remember Abraxas. That's the part that simply doesn't fit together, really.]

And yes. Over a year, in fact.

[And yet, perhaps it does make sense, if Alucard understands already. Time marched on, but it did not here, and he's aged a year and a season within a night. It wouldn't be the worst, really, if the entire Continent hadn't been so intent on imploding.

Jaskier gives this Beatrice a soft smile, but the easy flirtations that would have come -- yes, even in front of company -- do not rise. It's simply a thanks before she walks away.

He doesn't go at his food yet, but he does pull a piece of pepper off for the swallow to nip at. It seems pleased otherwise with Alucard's attention.] Then I return here to find time has yet to move anywhere. It's all very awkward for me, you see.

--A year in a day.

[There's maybe too much weight in Alucard's summary, but he doesn't hide the exhaustion from it either. The mere thought is tiring. To live through...whatever it is Jaskier has been through, and it must have been miserable to affect him so is bad enough. To wake up in one place and find no time at all has past is an actual nightmare, and Jaskier is living it.

There's a soft noise of sympathy. Another patpatpat of attention for the swallow, and Alucard does at least move a few pieces of chicken off of the skewers so it can mix properly with the rice.

I'm sorry is a bullshit thing to say, even if it is the truth. Alucard doesn't dare to venture the words.]

You need time to process it all. And not through hats.

[He nods.

Jaskier would normally complain about having companions who are less than verbose, but honestly, it's perfect for right now. Given the stage, he's allowed to give as much or as little as he wishes. It's coming out, a bit at a time, as he allows himself to think over it again. To... acknowledge each event as he sorts and pushes away.

Alucard doesn't question it, either. That does not, of course, mean he believes it. But without question right now is perfectly all right.

Besides. The swallow is loving the attention, and its presence is. A little spot of hope. If his magic can find him again despite its blocks, perhaps... like Geralt said, he can. Keep going on.

It feels like an exercise in futility still.]

The hats were helping. I think. It wasn't making it worse. [He almost makes it a joke. Almost. It is a fine hat.] The wine is debatable.

The wine shouldn't become a long term thing. That's all I'll say on the matter.

[And something he'll probably have to keep an eye on. For now though, this should do. Being inside where it is quiet. Making sure that there's food, and focusing on a bird to make processing the whole of it just a little easier.

The hat though. Alucard lets out a soft snort.] Don't buy too many hats either. There will be other accessories.

[Alucard can't think of what, but he isn't especially fashionable himself. He likes simplicity in appearance, but he has some advantages in being able to make anything look good when he's wearing it.]

The process ahead is unpleasant for making sense of these things. But you'll figure it out in your own time.

[The line is so close to an order that he finally glances at his companion, curious. Should it not? It's already sort of been a long-term thing. (Except one he can pinpoint the exact moment he started reaching for a bottle instead of... of anything else. Instead of a warm body or a blank page and a full ink.)

Alucard may have a point.]

So, bejeweled rings next? [The swallow stands up to go closer to his plate. Carefully, he spoons a little pile of rice onto the table for it to pluck at. (It is, of course, discouraged gently away from the chicken.)

He does manage a bite of it, which is more than he's eaten in. Mm. Maybe a day or two. He's not sure. The wine fills an empty bell either way, but, credit to Alucard's palate, because it does taste rather good.

And normally that was enough for him. Company, and good food -- there would be wine, but something expensive, meant to be savored. Not downed as fast as possible.]

Geralt said the same thing. You know, in his own way. Sort of. [He pushes a bit of chicken around, back and forth, with a finger.] It sounds like bullshite to me. The sort of thing you say when someone's dog's been run over by a horse, and you know that pain never goes away. Especially funny, coming from a couple of immortals.

[He wishes that his dog was run over by a horse. That seems rather easy to deal with in comparison.] At least Hector could bring my dog back.

[Yes, he sort of ruined the simile. Still.] And do you ever figure out how much time it takes?

I mean, that'd be an option. Not one that appeals to me, admittedly. [There's a pause.] Coats?

[Just throwing it out there. Alucard continues to eat while continuing to listen. There's nothing about this that comes naturally. Every part of him is screeching from the sheer awkwardness, of not knowing how to handle the shoe being on the other foot between them. That is what the food is for, in truth. Buying little scraps of time to think of what to say next without standing there awkwardly.

So he'll indulge the bird too. Some rice from his place and--

A very soft, regretful laugh comes at the mention of Geralt's name.]

I've come to learn not to ask him for advice. Hasn't gone well in the past. [But bullshit. Alucard nods, accepting the fact.] It is. But you know a fair portion of where I am coming from when I say all of the nonsense. It's better-- oh, don't joke. He would.

[Goddamnit, leave Hector out of this.]

I'm younger than you and my issues are fresh. I have no idea at all. [Alucard's sigh is soft, as is the question that follows.] Why do you think I've made a graveyard my project?

[He finally smiles, an edge of a thing. Coats. Yeah. It's a good suggestion.

Jaskier could use some coats. In 800 years retail therapy will be invented, but at least he can indulge in it now without having learned the term. Hats, and coats, and perhaps some sort of nice ring. He's already taken to wearing the ring he'd bought to give Hector on a chain now mostly out of... well, a reminder.

Sorry, Alucard. He can't not think of Hector. Like this: thinking that if he'd had someone like Hector around, these things simply would not have happened to him.

Jaskier snorts, and finally he digs into the food. It's good and, for whatever reason, his appetite seems to increase the more he unburdens himself. Alucard is easy company when it's about himself, funny enough. There doesn't feel like judgement. Not that he'd be bothered by it much, but --]

No, he gives terrible advice. Or lofty quotations he heard or read somewhere. He's not wrong often, which is infuriating, but the delivery is always poor.

Oh. Right. Like, twenty? Twenty is terribly young. It's only brain makes vampires = age. At least he hadn't met any new vampires. It probably would have gone as badly as the new mages in his life.]

All right, I get your point. I need... a project. [With a sigh, he feeds the swallow a bit of onion. Or. Wait, is onion poisonous to birds? Has he read that somewhere? Or was it dogs? Suppose it doesn't matter. He's not even sure the birds he makes can die.

Birds. The Sandpiper. A project.

A small idea is brewing.] Something meaningful. Deeply, tragically meaningful. It has to be, or it isn't consuming enough for me.

Edited 2022-01-23 05:25 (UTC)

[Jaskier, you can't purchase your way out of depression!

Alucard fails to hide his visible relief at Jaskier actually digging into the food in front of him. He's not subtle on the best of days, and right now is not the best of days by a long shot. If it's just someone shoving food in front of the bard or what, the dhampir doesn't know and refuses to question. He just knows it works.]

Beyond poor. My setback wasn't helped by his awful delivery, although I admit I also did not ask the right questions. [And uh, okay, his issues slammed against Geralt's in the worst way at the time. Jaskier does not need that detail at all.

The dhampir perks just a little as Jaskier seems to get the point. He won't leap over it with mad excitement, but he will nod once. It isn't approval, just soft recognition that he's going down the right path.]

Precisely. Although...tragically?

[He can definitely try.

At least he's smart enough to not mention that Hector and Alucard have identical ways of attempting to help him get through. Things. Which -- poor Hector. First Geralt, now this. Actually, he'd rather go back to after Geralt came back. Things were still manageable. The worst thing he had to deal with was his magic not doing quite what he wanted.

He pauses in his eating, glancing over. Even the swallow tips its head in question. He'd long picked up that something had come up between Alucard and Geralt -- Alucard's reluctance in helping Ciri and he look for him being the most obvious -- but, honestly, he'd never bugged either of them to find out the cause of it.

Geralt saying something that bothered someone? Not entirely a new occurrence.]

He has that effect sometimes.

[It is not meant to be a condemnation nor a defense. It's only a fact. Geralt can be terribly meaningful in his help, but he is still not human. Well. Alucard isn't either, but he acts human, enough so that he is just as set apart from Geralt as Geralt is from humans.

Essentially: it's how it is, sometimes.

A small hmhm noise comes from deep in his throat, and, gods. It might be a laugh. The beginnings of one. The conception of actual humor.] All right, I'm being dramatic. A little. It's -- [He does pause, though, enough that it shows it isn't all entirely a joke. Tragically came to mind because the Continent was just that. Xin'trea. The whole... fuck. Everything.

He wanted to make a difference. And he had. He had. He knows that.]

I don't want to only help myself. I... suppose, like your cemetery, I want to. [He gestures in the air, vaguely, and it's vague because he's also trying to find the way to word it himself.] I want to make things better. I know my music does, in some ways, but it isn't... enough. Anymore.

[And if he's being serious with himself, he can't say he particularly feels inspired to perform. (And that, more than anything, may be what he's running from. If all of this leads to him no longer able to do what he was put on the Continent to do, then what new purpose will he find?)]

[Alucard would have an absolute conniption at being compared to Hector, so yes, thank you Jaskier for not saying those thoughts out loud.

Alucard's face flashes towards the apologetic. He knows very well that the Geralt matter was not his finest moment. It was a confluence of terrible timing on all accounts, and the horrid failure to recognize that Alucard's issues and Geralt's issues sprung from a similar place, but then diverged in the worst way possible. Strong words weren't inevitable, unless you asked the wrong questions in the worst way possible.]

Like I said. I've learned a lesson. I wasn't at my best then, I apologize.

[It probably is a pointless apology. Geralt had gotten a real one in so much as they both acknowledged what happened, and Ciri had recieved something similar enough. Jaskier should have been the first person t hear something but...no matter. It was said and done with now, that's the important part.

Which is what makes it easier with the three of them, Alucard's come to realize. Little prying because everyone has secrets they'll share in time, and accepting that things are what they are sometimes on emotional matters. The lack of pressure on any of it is simpler. Less stressful. Helpful.

The dhampir politely refuses any low hanging fruit of you? Dramatic? He's not that unkind, and--

--oh.

Alucard considers the real weight of this. Whatever happened is truly awful then.] Taking care of the dead is the easiest thing in the world. [It isn't, but the point is the living are always harder.]

If your music isn't enough anymore, can at least be a stepping stone towards something larger? I'll speak from experience that lashing out like I did is not a steady foundation. A long nap was marginally more so.

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