abraxaslogs | [ march / open ] you left me, you left me no choice but to stay here forever

More fun ones, you mean. Or, at least, enjoyable. In the moment.

[And so they have traveled opposite paths, as Jaskier dived into coping with drink, and equally drunk company; whatever handsome faces couldn't keep their eyes on him after another performance of Burn, Butcher, Burn as they thirst for the reasons he hated the White Wolf as much as they thirst for a fuck.

So then the process of unlearning begins. Because, honestly, while it isn't better, it's so much easier. Wine was his drug of choice in lieu of anything else, and as long as his head was swirling and his mouth was parched, memories were fleeting things and thoughts nearly nonexistent ones.

He's far from judgement. It's more concern. Funny, how it easy it is to allow oneself to fall into absolutely nothing, and how impossible it is to watch it happen to others.]

You're right. [Now it's his turn to sigh.] Nothing changes that what's done. We're all simply trying to survive the aftershocks. There's no reward nor beauty in it. Yet we do it anyway.

[He doubts the words help, either. Or the company. Like she said, it changes nothing. It won't bring him back. Estinien comes to his mind again, so tall and sure and yet unsure, in the end. No. Nothing will bring him back.

He adjusts the blanket. Somehow, the tips of his fingers feel cold.] Very badass of us indeed. As Sam would say.

I don't know that I'd limit it to "the moment". 'Least not how I do it.

[ Pretty high up on the list is 'deflection with dry humor'. She has not yet had the time to shift to excessive drinking or indiscriminate sex. It's only been a day, give a girl some time.

She wants to laugh at his attempt on modern lingo, but she doesn't have it in her. He's trying and she knows, is distantly grateful, but she cannot help wondering But why? Why keep going at all? To live every day in terror that the people who mean anything will only leave her? Why do that when she can just stay here, drink and party and never have to think about it? For her, for Lloyd and Nadine, there is no light at the end of the tunnel. They will either stay here and watch every person they care about disappear, or else they will die. There's no alternative.

It's a long, long beat before she says anything else, and when she does, her voice is small. ] I can't be the only one left, Jaskier. Not again. And I can't go back. None of us can, it's not a choice for us. Lloyd's... [ She trails off, looks up because her eyes are starting to tear up again. ] So what's left? Just suffer? Why bother?

All right, you go a little harder than I do at times, I admit.

[Said with utmost affection. He still thinks very fondly of the herbs from the Halloween party; he hasn't asked for their recreation quite yet if only because they felt so perfectly suited for that moment. Besides, all his moments after with Nadine have not needed anything to... help.

With the quiet again, he fiddles with his fingers, tapping out a rhythm on his leg.

He's glad she doesn't ask it. But why is too difficult a concept to approach right now.]

Right. Your sphere is... [Well, obviously not inhabitable anymore. That's what had scared Nadine so much, had driven her -- and Julie, he thinks -- to this. They did not simply go home, like Estinien may have. There was nothing to go to. Only another death.

He swallows, tipping his head back.] I wish I had an answer. All of my studies of the greats -- of art, of literature, of philosophy -- we all search for an answer to it. I don't have one, either. Personally, I like to think we're all masochists. Surviving through the suffering for our next good fuck, or the next good drink, or the next good friend. I mean, you can't imagine I've been famous for this long and not become an absolute hedonist.

[Deflection with dry humor, indeed.]

Edited 2022-03-28 23:16 (UTC)

[ It's an unsatisfying answer, not that she expected any different. She's so sick of suffering, and especially of suffering that befalls her because of other people's actions. The army's, the government's, Flagg's, the Singularity. When do her own choices get to make a difference? Why is she trying if it doesn't mean anything? Her only real sin was trying to escape loneliness.

In the silence, she reaches for his hand, like a child might. There is so much Jaskier doesn't know, so much that isn't fully hers to share or explain. It's not that she has a problem talking about all of it. It's just difficult, and she doesn't think most people want to hear it. But maybe Jaskier can find some meaning, help her understand what all of this was supposed to lead her to. A lesson, a moral? What was any of it for? ]

Can I tell you the story?

[One could already predict she wouldn't laugh. He gives a small sigh. It's not for lack of trying; then again, he knows why she wouldn't want to. He had no interest in it, either. Only really laughed at himself. Not in a fun way.

Jaskier's fingers move in between hers, clasping her hand across the blanket.

The bard tips his head, giving her a squeeze. He conjures a few pillows behind them for a bit more comfort, shifting his legs.]

Absolutely. I'd be delighted to hear.

[ It's nothing to do with him -- even recognizing humor takes energy she doesn't have, focus she can't keep, and right now, it's more like words are washing over her than actually processing. Her head feels like it's filled with static, making everything feel distant and difficult to hear.

She curls up closer at his side, as if she's trying to curl right into herself, become so small that she disappears altogether. It would be simpler. It is probably quite telling that the first thing she does is take a deep breath. ]

I'm from a place called Kansas, originally. Pratt, Kansas. It was a pretty small town, on our scale, only a little over five thousand people. It was in the middle of nowhere, an hour drive from the closest city, which wasn't all that much to write home about either. When Captain Trips came, it came fast. Usually people couldn't live with it for much more than a few days. There wasn't time for treatments or medicine. The hospitals all got overrun by the end of the first week. There was nowhere for the sick or dead to go, no one to treat 'em anyway. The phones went down, the internet. We couldn't contact anyone to see who was alive, who needed help. Less than one percent of the whole world population survived longer than three months. Seven billion people died, but some of us just... didn't.

[ She pauses for a moment, inhales hard again. ] My parents died at home, less than a day apart. I tried to take 'em outside, bury 'em, but I couldn't move 'em. So I went lookin' for any other survivors. I thought there had to be some. But I was the only one left, for hundreds of miles. I checked every house in the county. Broke windows and doors to get in, to find anyone. I just found bodies, whole families in one room. Babies still in the crib. Thousands and thousands of people. I tried to cover 'em, at first. I'd look for sheets and towels, but there were so many of 'em. I looked for days, took abandoned cars to the further farms. Even the animals were all dead.

It was just me and them, and I wound up in a store. The empty part of the club, in the back? That's what it looked like, only all the stuff for sale was still there. Businesses had all shut down overnight, so there weren't any bodies there. The store had a little of everythin', food and clothes, places to sleep. I thought I'd stay there a few days, that someone would come through. I was sure that there was someone out there, lookin' for people like me. I didn't see another person for a whole month. I started seein' people that weren't there, in the corner of my eyes. I could hear 'em whisperin' all night. Other people finally got there, these two guys. One of 'em was deaf and the other was slow, like in the head. They wouldn't take me with them, left me all alone again. They didn't care if I lived or died.

[ Maybe she hadn't exactly been kind to them at first (~~at all~~), but who was in their right mind after all that? She'd tried to apologize. They turned their backs. She had, ultimately, tried to shoot them, but missed. ]

After that, I started havin' dreams. It turns out all the survivors was havin' 'em, the same dreams, all across the country. There were two dreams you could have. In one, there was a king in the desert, and the other, a witch in a cornfield. Some people had both, some just got one. I never dreamed of the witch, only the king, but in my dream, he knew me. He told me that I didn't have to be alone anymore, never again. All I had to do was come to him in the desert, in Vegas, and he'd be with me forever. All of his followers would. So I found a map and packed as many supplies as I could carry, and I started walkin'. Fifteen hundred miles, give or take. Over mountains and the desert. Other people came from even further away.

But when I got there, he was exactly like I'd dreamed. Lloyd was his number two, he'd rescued Lloyd. He was the only one left in the prison, locked away and starvin' to death, until Flagg strolled in like it was nothin'. Lloyd ran the city, and they told me that Flagg's queen was on her way, that she had a mission to complete first. She got there, eventually. Nadine. And for a few weeks there, it was really good. I was never alone, I never had to worry. Lloyd took care of me, from the minute he met me. He was always there.

[ She stops, and it's not the end of the story, not at all. There's a pause as she tries to figure out how much more to tell, whether she can take out pieces and somehow stitch the story together without them. ]

The king and the witch were at war, and Flagg made mistakes, and everythin' started to fall apart. Really fall apart. And then we were suddenly all here, and he told us it was fine because he was still with us. Until he wasn't. Lloyd told me he'd protect me here. And he's gone too. Nadine told me the same thing, and... [ Her voice falters, her gaze falls. She can't make herself say it, what if she leaves next?. ] That's what I mean. I can't be the last one again.

[The longer she goes on, like any good story, the more questions he has, the little details he wants to fill out to sate his curiousity. Things like what on earth an internet is, how much could billions encompass, how could that many people even be alive, let alone die in months? His heart turns colder the more words fill the space around them, and in the end, he's practically clinging back to her. So quietly she goes past details like her parents' death, wandering alone in a dead world.

Somehow, he's never really put it together. (He's involved enough in his own stories.) That it is Nadine's magic man that was this king who brought them together. That the portrait Julie showed him, the Vegas, was where they all ended up.

Called like children following a piper. Or the call of a demon, if one could truly be so powerful. Then again, did not the Deathless Mother call people like Yennefer to her side? Did she not find, exactly, what she needed to to have them succumb?

Jaskier doesn't voice the thoughts. He has no idea what to make of this Flagg character other than the mere mention of what he's done unnerves him.

It's enough for him to know that Nadine and Julie have been through far too much shit, and Destiny seems determined to keep piling it on them.] That certainly does put things in perspective. How hard it would be to trust that those who say they'll stay, in fact, will.

[What does one say? They'll stay, for sure, this time. None of them know that. All he can do is empathize.] I know that fear. When you're so sure you're alone, and the dark has found you in the end.

[And yet Destiny played him then, too, entering Yennefer at the last moment. He can't say it will ever happen again.]

[ Much of it, she hasn't truly accepted herself, not really, even nearly two years later. Her family, the bodies, the absence of all human sound. It all haunts her dreams, makes her twitch and whimper through the night, but in her waking hours, she doesn't have the emotional capacity to unravel it all. How can she ever possibly work through those things? Some blows are too big, too devastating, and they come too fast. All you can do is stand back up afterward and walk away. Pretend it never happened. If you keep your back turned, the illusion maintains itself.

She's found that she can stave off the dreams if she drinks enough, puts enough poison into her body. It works. It only has to work until she dies again.

Her pain lingers, wrapped around her like a boa constrictor, squeezing. It's hard to remember a time it wasn't there, just waiting for another opportunity to coil tighter, to remind her that it's going to eventually crush her. She can barely swallow around the lump in her throat. ] What do you do when you already know the dark wins?

[If she so asked Jaskier months ago, he thinks he would have very different answers. That there is always a way to beat it back. That there must be. Even if he knows very well that's not true. When he has even written songs about men who could not find their victory against the dark.

He shakes his head.

The dark always has its ways to get stronger. There is always so much of it. In war, in blood spilled, in greed and anger and sorrow.

He simply squeezes her.] In my case, be a fool and hope for the best.

There is no best for me. [ The best case scenario for Julie is that she stays in Abraxas, forever living like an alien in a world that makes little sense to her. Even if she could go back, if she were somehow return alive, there's nothing left of her world, not really. It would be going back just to watch humanity slowly die out. They didn't even know if the babies born to the survivors could inherit immunity. And if she stays, somehow hangs on and doesn't blink out existence like Lloyd, like Flagg, then won't she just be watching it happen to everyone else?

With a sniffle, she swipes at her face, takes a deep breath. She rests her cheek on his shoulder, and she's so tired. So empty. ] What are you hoping for?

[Mm. He doesn't question why it seems that way. If her world is dead, and there is nothing to return to -- gods, it's far too much to ask anyone to bear. To especially bear alone. And Nadine must think the same....

His head rests against hers. The quiet in the Horizon now feels almost chilling, with the music blocked out. Though hearing it now, here, wouldn't make a difference.]

I'm sure it sounds selfish to say after your story, but I wish to stay here, if it's my choice to do so. I promised Geralt I would. Beyond that... I am only hoping to live a long life, to spread my songs. Make this world a little less shitty. That's all.

It's not selfish. Y'all's world doesn't sound any better than this one. At least you have magic here.

[ She doesn't say it cruelly. It's matter-of-fact -- the Continent sounds fucking terrible if she's honest. It's the Dark Ages but worse, because at least no one was mutating little boys at any point back in her world. Lack of magic and monsters has its upsides. And sure, she's got the impression that Jaskier was dealt a better hand than most in his world, but it's like being the richest person in the poorest, most wartorn country. So it's not particularly surprising that he doesn't exactly sound super conflicted about staying here.

Letting her eyes close, she sighs, stays curled close. ] Maybe you can go on tour.

[He huffs something attempted to be a laugh. She isn't wrong. He doesn't see much difference between the Continent and this world, in many ways. This place even has less random death by monsters (so far). And only one monolith, they hope, instead of multiples. It certainly makes things a bit less chaotic.

His arm around her pats her. He doesn't say that is it even more selfish to hope that the ones he knows stay, too. If this is what a disappearance can do. He's not sure how he will handle it when they are not only mere acquaintances.

No use thinking of it yet. Not until it's upon him.]

You know, should travel between factions prove possible, I would love to do so. Touring this land. [It's rather what he's done on the Continent, after all. And who doesn't deserve to hear him?] You're welcome to come with me, should the traveling itch ever strike you.

As long as you don't make me walk. [ She has done quite enough long-distance walking in her life, thank you. Whoever invents the car first, it won't come a moment too soon.

She's completely drained. Julie is someone who usually buries her emotions under a pile of distractions, and actually feeling them has taken pretty much all the energy she has at the moment. Though she won't feel any better once the immediate relief of Jaskier's presence has worn off, for the moment, she is able to doze lightly on his shoulder. ]

My dear, never. I will rent you the most fabulous horse available. You know, or a donkey. If you prefer.

[He teases her gently. And as she settles against him, as they are as close as two people can be, he holds her weight up against him. Shifts just a bit so she doesn't wake up with a crick in her neck. His arm stays around her waist, the quilt pulled up around them.

The club is quiet, he thinks, once she sleeps. It's... nice. It's nearly peaceful.

And he'll be here if her dreams should turn sour.] Rest well, Julie.

[ march / open ] you left me, you left me no choice but to stay here forever

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