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

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.

[Jaskier gives a small snort, lifting his hat to wipe his brow. At least this one is about being practical than flashy -- yes, he is capable of being practical -- with only a light chemise clinging to his frame. The winter has certainly brought its own sort of cold to Cadens, but it's far from the Continent's winters he used to escape from in... in Oxenfurt.]

I like to think you mean so literally.

[If anyone howls at the moon, it's likely to be Alucard. He puffs up a little, watching Alucard's eyes move across his work. While Jaskier before would have done it all for the sole purpose of being about as colorful and noticeable as possible, his tastes have clearly become a little more... reserved. More of the plants are dedicated to being helpful rather than pretty, either providing grip to the paths, holding the tombstones together, or offering some thorny protection around Alucard's cactus (which he is pleased to see still stands effortlessly.)]

Oh. You noticed. Thank you. [He's felt stronger than he has in months, even though so much magic has drained him. Funny thing, that. Now he feels the chaos making its equivalent exchange for its use.] You worked with what you could. It felt as if they should have the best efforts to preserve their memorials.

[If Jaskier cannot work to save the living in Abraxas, at least he can start with aiding the dead.]

I did indeed. [Howling is a lot of fun and not something he can do in the city. Alucard refrains from mentions of any of the coyotes that howled in response, only because nothing came of it. They just sort of howled together for a bit, before the dhampir realized Geralt would probably appreciate some sleep at some point.

He doesn't comment on the hat (is that a new one?!) But to the work at hand, and it is interesting to see the shift at hand. There is still color, but the shift has moved to the world of the practical. Even his cactus now has extra thorns which is admittedly over kill, but also does have a nice aesthetic of it's own.]

It takes one unsubtle person to recognize another. [His grin is small and sly, because well, pot and kettle. The dhampir walks closed towards one of the grave markers, crouching down to see how the plants interface with the rock in better detail.]

You mean in case I didn't mix the mortar correctly? [The question is light. Alucard hums in soft approval, tracing the reinforcement plants carefully with his forefinger.] This is wonderful, and innovative. Thank you.

[It's a new one, for sure. He may be starting a new collection.

Jaskier gapes at him in mock outrage.] What? Alucard, I cannot believe you're calling me unsubtle.

[Even wearing an unbuttoned chemise, the ring of bone hanging from his neck atop curls of chest hair, his long hair tied back into what may constitute something like a ponytail, but is more accurately a rat tail -- even now, he is not exactly subtle.

Mostly because he has a few flowers tucked into the hat already, which shift even without a breeze.]

Has anyone told you you're hilarious? I imagine not. [The plants don't hesitate from Alucard's touch. Much like his birds -- and the swallow he'd created a week ago is still here, fluttering about -- they recognize Alucard as a dear friend.

His chest warms. He, too, kneels next to Alucard, reaching for the vines. They sprout a few more blooms, framing the name on the stone.] You needn't thank me at all. It's enough to have something to focus on.

I've met fewer people less. [Alucard's smile is wry though.] Thankfully, I'm one of those that outranks you.

[Alucard knows the full of his dramatics are yet to be observed by the bard but...becoming so depressed that one lives in a graveyard is probably as good an example as any that he can think of.]

Your imagination is correct. But when you're not used to being around others, there's no reason for such commentary.

[It is impossible not to see how the plants shift with his touch. That is a very magical little thing, perhaps moreso than the magic that brought them to this graveyard in the first place. He runs his fingers besides one of the vines. A hello, and a little appreciation for the blooms that now frame the deceased's memory.]

It's still something worth saying out loud. [It isn't a charitable you need to hear it moment.] As long as it has helped. Has anything else come into sharper focus while you've been working?

[He laughs. All right. He can't argue with that. It would be impossible to ignore Alucard, with his pale skin and beautiful hair, even if he was dressed completely unassumingly.

Which he doesn't do. so.

Jaskier rubs his fingers together, lifting back to his feet. Is it worth it? Well. It is to him. He does want to hear it. He doesn't need to, he thinks, but he'd. Like to. Even if it's such a small thing, it makes a difference to one person.

It's enough for now. Enough to focus on.]

It has. Besides, after that Eifstide disaster, this place was in sore need of such attentions. [And his magic was in need of use. He couldn't, after all, sacrifice the work Yennefer had pumped into him (ah, literaly) because he was feeling sorry for himself.]

Some things. The things that are truly lingering with me. The things that matter more than others. [The healing, he thinks, he might need to get past... memories. The memories that have him hesitating to even light a candle. To twitching when he's alone in the dark. Even how a sight of the Singularity in the Horizon stirs his heart darkly.]

I know I must keep doing something, no matter how small it is. Or I will eventually sink into nothing. As clear a lesson it is... I needed the time to relearn it.

[A laugh is progress in and of itself, and the matter goes unremarked upon. Instead, the dhampir follows Jaskier up from crouching, knowing full well that there's not much more work to be done. There is, however, the new bench that they can take advantage of, and Alucard starts to head in that direction.

He'll go to the bath house at some point to divest himself of sand. For now, he'll wiggle his arms every so often to shake grains loose, knowing full well that it is a losing battle. Really, the sand is one of the few downsides of the desert.]

And the work will need to be maintained.

[More Jaskier's than his own. Gardens can fall into disarray faster than stone.

The cactus comes into view eventually. Alucard's feet are moving at a leisurely pace, and he has no real desire to rush ahead at the moment

You figured it out in a week. [Alucard's dry tone is a terrible attempt at humour.] Took me over a month.

[His bag is dropped beside the cactus, and Alucard settles himself down on the ground. It is good, comfy ground.] You're always welcome here, you know that.

Edited 2022-02-05 04:15 (UTC)

Luckily, I will have plenty of time to do so.

[For now. Alucard is much more optimistic about the point he's reached over himself. He's learned the lesson, and now comes... putting effort into living it. Even now, after his one performance, he has yet to pick the lute up again.

One thing at a time.]

Worry not, I'm nowhere so skilled. I'm still working on it.

[Jaskier walks beside him, shifting the bag at his side a bit harder. He's gathered a few things he needs in the effort: a hand shovel, some sort of clawed thing for digging up roots, and twine he uses to tie bundles of herbs for home up. In some way, he thinks he's settled into the work easier because of what he did in the vineyard. Raising them up by hand, watering and coaxing the sunlight to the levels he needed. Harvesting grapes, stamping them out. Bottling.

Jaskier gives the old cactus a pat. It doesn't move, but it doesn't prod at him with needles miraculously, either. Perhaps a thanks for putting what magic he had into keeping it alive during the Dimming. With a little bow to the cactus, he takes a seat on the bench. Unfortunately, he's not on a "sitting on the dirt" sort of level of ease with the earth yet. He stretches his legs out, knees popping.]

I know now. You were a tough nut to crack, you know. [He smiles at him. Well. A tough nut to crack who needed just a bit of wine in him to crack at all.] I'm glad for it, you know. Your company has always been some of the best.

[The dhampir is only optimistic because it is the point he himself is at. It hasn't gotten much easier. There's the faint glimmer that solidarity might be the bump he needs.

But no matter. The garden flourishes, Jaskier is here, and the cactus seems to stand just a little straighter for the bard's appearance. Alcuard's meant to ask if Jaskier has seen any of the cacti that bloom at night out in the desert, but that's a discussion for another day. For now, there is simply this. Sitting and being.]

And at the risk of sounding overly saccharine, your company has been the most constant thing in my life since I arrived here. [Saccharine and the truth are not mutually exclusive. The dhampir lets out a short huff.] It is something I am grateful for.

[Jaskier's heart skips a little beat. Sometimes overt appreciation is something he needs. Simple words instead of actions, even if both, of course, have their merits. As if in response, the roses all bloom a bit more brightly.]

No, no. I -- I love saccharine.

[Constant. Constant is good. Jaskier has had his own constant companies in his life, and they've led him on the path he's on now. Sure enough, those new memories have also showed him how much it can break you to lose a constant.

It's good to know he can provide it as well. Though. Funny. He seems to provide it to those who will live far longer than he. (He's never even thought much about it until now.)] I intend to keep providing it, of course.

[It is one more thing to hang onto. To recall that his presence, or lack thereof, does not affect himself alone. It's good. You know, for a depressed dhamphir, Alucard is rather good at this comfort business.] I fear soon we're going to need to find something new to work on. I don't suppose reforesting an entire desert is a fathomable pursuit, is it?

[Alucard's going to pointedly not comment on the roses, although he sees them.

Nice to know that sometimes, he does say the correct thing.

Alucard leans back, his shoulders coming to rest at the very edge of the bench. It is support enough, and the grass is soft beneath his feet. He couldn't ask for much more at this point. This place is as much Jaskier's as it is his now. Collaboration without the name, and without any real planning. Riffing and--

--well. There's a thought.]

The thought has occurred to me as well, and my skin crawls every time it enters my head. [Being without this sort of work is an actual terror at the moment.] It'd cause too much chaos to the living wild life. Can't say I would suggest it.

But maybe finding something else collaborative would help. Or reinvigorate. [The dhampir won't spell it out. Jaskier'll have to come to that conclusion on his own.]

[He would've so easily poked a bit of fun at Alucard for saying so, but now he understands it. That feeling, like slipping off a ledge, like falling. Grasping for something to hang onto, even if the pursuit is as small as fixing up a cemetery no one visits.

(It would be nice if the people of Cadens would now.)

Ugh. This level of empathy with the dhamphir's plight is not exactly what he ordered, but it's here to stay either way.] Ah, that's a point. I should probably be putting a bit more thought into how this affects, er. Nature.

[Considering he was never meant to have this sort of power. If he was, would the chaos not have found its way to him long ago? As much as he prefers forests to sticky, burning sand, it could disrupt all those strange dune birds. And the lizards. Last time he went out there, he found some rather cute lizards.

He draws his boot across the grass, a swirl that lays flattened before the grass rights itself again.]

Collaborative... [Certainly. He can't spend the rest of his time alone. For one, it's horribly depressing. For two, he's wasting his talents. There's... so much more he could be doing. For this place. For Cadens. If he cannot help the elves any longer, then surely there's others?] While I have enjoyed getting my hands dirty, I would prefer something less. Solitary. And less quiet.

I feel as if a city is easier in that regards. Nature is isolated in little spots, meaning that something that otherwise works against the natural environment is easier to atttend to - like you've done. But beyond? [Alucard pauses to imagine the idea, but shakes his head no.] Probably best not to, unless you want to make an oasis or two. [The words leave Alucard's mouth and--

--oh! That's another idea. But he won't harp on it or shove the bard's nose in it to make the concept stick.]

I can't help with less quiet. [An honest assessment of himself. Given the chance, Alucard is always going to prefer silence.] The most I do is go out into the desert and howl at the moon when everything feels just that little bit too much. [Screaming, just in a more interesting way.] I could demonstrate, if you'd like.

[Fair point. Jaskier's Continent is, after all, mostly forest. He avoids the deserts for obvious reasons, and honestly, he wouldn't have chosen Cadens first for his destination if they'd had much choice. There was a choice, technically, but all he'd wanted to do was get Geralt out of Thorne as fast as possible.]

I may build up to an oasis. If I ever become so proficient.

[That sounded a bit impossible, actually, even for him. But it was an idea to set aside, should he be desperate for something to try.

However, building a desert oasis did not do much for the solitude aspect.

A smile quirks his lips.] I may try howling soon enough. [He looks down at him with amusement. Is that a joke? A real offering?] You know what? Yes. I would like. Give me a good howl.

It'd be a worthy experiment, at least.

[But an oasis implies a new form of loneliness and that goes against the spirit of what they're both realizing is against their best interest.

Alucard never thought he'd be reliant on anyone for company again, but here he is. Jaskier's the primary source, and it was probably better they never really interacted in the early days of being in Thorne. Alucard knows he'd be an absolute shit had that happened.

Howling though. There's a nod, and the transformation happens again in one single, fluid motion. Nose becomes snout, long flowing hair becomes white fluff, and there's absolutely someone else who need to make a joke about how the bard keeps befriending white wolves.

As a matter of respect, the wolf moves away. This is about to become loud. Alucard throws his head back and:]

awwOOOO000000000000000000

[He only goes for a minute. Minute and a half. Enough to be heard, but not enough to draw too much attention to the fact that the wolf is awake in the cemetery.

Satisfied, he trots right back over and plonks his head on the bench beside Jaskier. Pets allowed but only from Jaskier.]

[Some part of him doesn't believe it's that easy -- that Alucard will really turn on a whim. But he does. It's that effortless for him, and like he'd remembered, nothing like Nadine's transformation.

Perhaps hers would be so smooth one day. He hopes so, for her sake.

Jaskier puts his hands over his ears, just in case, once he notices Alucard giving him some space. It turns out to be a rather good idea, because the howl is loud, and it echoes against the tombstones, and it goes on rather long.

It's not exactly music. But it still brings a grin to his face, though hardly what he feels when the great white wolf comes up to him and all but plops his head beside him.

Is he really...?

Jaskier doesn't ask. He puts his hands between Alucard's ears and scratches, fur slightly rough, slightly soft. Again, he misses his wolf in the Horizon. How he had been completely dependable. There whenever Jaskier needed him.

To be fair, his friends are rather the same way.] Thank you, my friend.

[Alucard is sno different.]

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

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