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

[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.

It's far in the past. [He appreciates it, but really, it didn't affect him until they were looking for Geralt. And even then, he isn't around to force anyone to like the Witcher. He's not exactly easily likable. He says harsh things. And Alucard is volatile to misspoken words. It was sort of inevitable, really, and as far as he can tell they've solved it in their own way.

He pets the little swallow with amusement.] When they're not your dead, I suppose that's true.

[Not that he his own dead to take care of, either. If the elves died on the way to Xin'trea -- and by gods, he hoped not -- he wouldn't be aware, either way. The Witchers, too. They weren't his people. He'd barely known any of them. And now their bodies lay spheres away, with poor Vesemir to take care of.

Hm. He pokes at a piece of chicken, considering it. It is a good point. One he's considered himself, of course, but the point of the Sandpiper was no one knew what who or what they were. Here, there is no fear of being discovered. The people who know him here know him for who he is.]

How long a nap are we discussing? One year? Two? [His lips twitch, and this time the joke comes easier.] Funny. I understand your urge now, to make your crypt and simply fall asleep. Though I'd probably get bored of it far sooner than you.

[Alucard nods once, taking the grace afforded him in the topic of Geralt's misadventure to...whatever. He never asked what happened, and he was never told. Alucard suspects he was no particular great help. All he did was save an extra trip to the desert for Jaskier and Ciri.

A grim smile follows.] Yes, that's true. The impersonal dead, such as it is. But they deserve that care.

[It is selfish to use people he doesn't know for his own benefit, but at least the graveyard stays up and running. Better that than stones that fall away into nothing.]

I've not decided. Last time it was a year, but also to buy myself some time for healing. [The dhampir shifts in his seat, a bit of his own scar peaking out from the fabric of his shirt. Quietly, he indicates the extent of the wound.] Maybe more. Maybe a life time, so it feels like starting fresh.

[But at least someone now understands.] You probably would. But then you'd have some time to breathe before addressing it all.

[He nods, too. No, he agrees. It's nice that someone is clearing it up. And... perhaps Jaskier can start there, too, by going to prune the bushes. To make sure nothing happens to the cacti or the berries. When he worked on them before, he was so terribly fond of them.

The feeling feels ages ago, but. Only a few weeks, as well.

Somehow that's the worst of it. How time stretches and shrinks all at once. Perhaps if the memories had been spread out.

Healing. The mention has him looking down at his hand, as loathe as he is to look, to remember. To recall it in perfect detail. It was only a night, and yet he knows he will not be able to forget it. A blip in a long life already. He looks back and follows the hint of Alucard's, too.

How childish it must be, comparing fingers to an entire life. He has no misgivings that such a wound could have killed him, had he not been able to heal.]

A lifetime. You can do so with immortality. [Though he understands, he still hopes Alucard won't. Jaskier will terribly miss his company should he decide to sleep for a lifetime. Besides, what more could Jaskier have? Twenty years? Thirty? Longer than Alucard's lifetime, and yet nothing when compared to generations.

Strange. Does he expect to spend the rest of his life here? If the Singularity still managed to pull him back after all that, then -- he may not really have a choice.

The first time he's thought of it, and he realizes... no. It doesn't feel so terrible a thing.]

Alas. Wishes don't become desires, unless one happens to find a djinn. And my last encounter with one went rather terribly. [The swallow pecks at his hand, noting with a chirp that he has yet to really dig into his meal. Fine, fine. He goes back to eating so it doesn't bother him more.] Well, it's as you said. Music should be the first place I start. Or the second, rather. I think I will begin with checking on the cemetery gardens. I fear I may have neglected them the last few weeks.

I can, yes, and it is a luxury. [That part, Alucard knows. Really, the only person he'd be leaving behind that he might worry about would be Jaskier. Sypha is still a difficult subject, and hell, Geralt may very well still be around. But this isn't the right thought to dwell on, so Alucard does not.

He eats a little more, almost laughing into his forkful of rice with the swallow starts to reprimand the bard for only picking at the food. That earns the creature an approving pat on the head before Alucard returns to the matter at hand.]

I should like to hear the djinn story one day. [Not now, not with the word terribly in the mix.] I'd appreciate that. And perhaps some new plantings might not go awry either.

[It is doing physical work with one's hand and brain. Something that requires concentration, and hopefully might serve as an acceptable distraction for the immediate short term.] There's a small bench near the cactus that might benefit from some landscaping.

[If there is anything that may have him feeling a little better (besides the food, actually, which is well-spiced, and filling, and warm), it's someone asking after a story. How has he never recited it? Gods, it was years ago now, though, but he remembers it rather intimately. It was, after all, his first time almost dying.

The first time they met Yennefer. The jury is still out on whether that was to their benefit or to their detriment in the end.]

It is one I'd love to tell. [There is an understood, silent in the future there that he doesn't need to say. Perhaps it is one Jaskier can tell while he works on the cemetery.

It's a good idea. A good start. And that's enough for him right now. Something to start on, that may occupy his mind deeply enough that his thoughts may not wander far.] I'll experiment with something grander, then. I've always wanted to work with rosebushes but they're such finicky things. They cannot reject the work of my hands now.

[It is not the weight that has been lifted from him, but more as if he's been given a hint of strength to bear it. Quietly, he lays out coin on the table in silent thanks. This was what he needed. A start.] You were right. It's a very good place for lunch. [Even his swallow appears satisfied.] If you aren't busy, what do you say we begin this work now?

Edited 2022-01-28 05:50 (UTC)

[Alucard can see the shift in the bard. It is miniscule, but it is there and Alucard makes a quiet note to keep asking for stories when Jaskier seems especially low. The careful balance of not asking versus asking will need to be recalibrated as appropriate, but it can be done.]

Roses sound like a worthy project. Perhaps in an ombre?

[An addition to a challenge, just to keep him even more occupied. Alucard knows that it may fail, but he is absolutely trying here and it seems this is the best path forward. With that done, he makes quick work of what remains on his own plate, then adds his own coin to Jaskier's pile.]

It gets busier with the sunset. A good place to be alone in a crowd. [His preference if he must be with other people.]

I've nothing but time, and today, it is yours.

An ombre! Now that is an inspired suggestion.

[Yes, an ombre. If he can create a bloody cactus from nothing, what's stopping him from creating what he wants? Yennefer did not hold him down and -- er, forcibly help him with his magic for nothing. Fuck it. Perhaps he'll make blue roses. Green ones. Ombre.

He'll have to come back again. To enjoy it all the more.

The swallow reflects the new energy in Jaskier, hopping over the table and then chirping before she flutters up to his shoulder. As if encouraging him, she grabs a curl of hair near his ear and tugs it.

Jaskier pushes out of his seat, giving his companion a muted smile in thanks. The company, he thinks, he could use. (And perhaps Alucard will make sure no more wine comes into the equation.)] Then let us begin. Once it's nightfall, I'm afraid my work will be severely limited.

[And he feels like throwing himself into it now. Alucard, you're a fucking miracle worker.]

[Who knew that the word ombre would be the thing to shift things in just the right way? Not Alucard. But he will take the bard's renewed enthusiasm for doing something as a win in this situation. It took the dhampir himself far longer to reach the same point.

He's in the same place every day when Jaskier arrives at the graveyard, regardless of the time. A white wolf lurking behind the third stone to the left, and eventually a person when Jaskier picks the area he wishes to work on. He lingers for a time, then departs to attend to his own work that remains. He wanders back, talks for a time, then returns to work.

There's a near week of absence, when Geralt asks for Alucard's help on a hunt. Running about in the desert is too deep a temptation, and Alucard makes use of the messaging network to share with Jaskier where he is going and Could you keep an eye on things in my absence, please? I'll owe you another hat for the trouble.

Today is his first day back from the desert. Alucard walks into the graveyard in his human shape, the small pack he carried with him dangling off his left shoulder. His eyes glance around, taking in the week's changes.]

[As much as Jaskier is finding his steps in attending to the cemetery, the request helps him find more solid ground. Such a simple request, yet it's. Purpose. Beyond what he's already found. Responsibility. A tiny, insignificant thing, but he holds onto it. It's harder than holding onto a bottle, but he needs that.

You hardly need buy me a hat. Of course I will.

But I won't say no.

He shouldn't. It's a free hat.

The week's changes are, perhaps, a bit more extensive than they should be. With Ciri and Geralt both out of Cadens, he's been left alone with Rinwell -- which isn't a complaint, necessarily, but he feels fucking weird being drunk around her, and morose, which is worse. He doesn't need to burden her with anything more when Cadens's attitude towards magic in general is enough of one.

So he's worked hard. The blackberry bushes that were dying around the outer wall of the cemetery are now rose bushes, ranging from a sunset orange to a blood red. And yes, several of the blossoms have carefully crafted ombre gradients spreading across their petals of yellow to orange to reds. Their roots are thick and strong; Yennefer's hand in restoring his magic lingers even now, after his infusion of new memories. Chaos thrives in him, as if making up for its absence.

Some of the more broken tombstones have vines gently wrapping around them, bursting with bold, blue roses, tight enough to hold them together from crumbling any further. And what once was still dirt between the graves is a rich grass, still spreading, dotted with dandelions.

Jaskier is bent over, trying to sway the sprout of an oak tree to grow a bit bigger, if only to shade a few whiny roses that have been coiling away from too much sunlight. But the tree is being quite stubborn, moving its branches but not growing any taller. The crunch of boots on gravel has him looking up, with a final You're not impressing anyone with this attitude towards the sprout.]

Ah, Alucard! Back already. How fares the hunt?

[Alucard's unsure of what he might expect upon his return. It has been a week of sand in his fur, of many long silences in the company of another, and a week of sniffing at so many things. Sure, he didn't have to transform into a wolf to track, but where was the fun in not doing so?

It isn't a riot of colors he returns to, but a rich variety of textures. Roses with velvety petals and sharp spiked stems, both decorative and practical. Trees that seem to have moved just one little which way or that, for shade or else better balance to an area. While the loss of the blackberry bushes is not ideal, Alucard doesn't find himself missing them much. Their replacements are quite lovely.

The grass though. It isn't practical at all, and yet it thrives, soft as goose down.

There is a faint smile on his face in response to all of the bard's efforts.]

I spent a week howling in the desert, so well enough. [That was really his motivation. Not being worried and using this as an excuse to ask Geralt what happened!]

You've had a productive week. I like the use of the stems to reinforce where my masonry was less than ideal.

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