abraxaslogs | [ CLOSED ] through open passageways

[ The number on the stone grey wall reads 18.

This is not entirely Jaskier's fault. It rests in good part upon Geralt's shoulders. He's the one who wanted to walk the Horizon, after the summit, to see what faces and domains may be here, given the newly Summoned that have appeared. He asked Jaskier to come because Jaskier lacks the threatening aura Geralt apparently carries by default and he'd prefer no one use the Horizon's creation magic to skewer him for inadvertently trespassing. But Jaskier was the one who, when they reached this construct, said, What's the worst that could happen?

So here they are. Committed. It's only the Horizon. They can leave any time by absconding the plane altogether. They haven't got to climb these steps. This is an inordinate fucking waste of time and he knows it. There is a stubbornness inside him, though, that wants to know who the fuck put these here and what in the hell lies atop. He's scaled sheer cliffs and climbed mountains. He enjoys it. This is...something else. There isn't a view. There is no fresh air. He does not know where he is climbing to or what he is meant to reach. And he's accompanied by two men who are, in fact, in possession of human endurance. Or what passes as such in the Horizon. Hard to tell what's resulting in those limits: either the sheer monotony of the trek is preventing them from transcending it or the domain itself is doing so.

(How or why Thancred came to join them, he can't say. A similar sort of curiosity, he supposes. Perhaps he was drawn by the presence of a certain moogle.)

Speaking of their third companion: fuzzy; small wings; carrying a wooden sword still. Jaskier insisted before they set out that Moglad required fresh air and Geralt only sighed. He sighs again now, over whatever it is the moogle looks ready to do—something insufferable, no doubt—and grabs the creature out of the air with both hands. ]

Do not even think about it.

[ That 18 almost seems to be mocking them, and Thancred has no sense of how many more floors they'll need to ascend to reach the top. Or to reach anything of interest, at this point he would even take that.

He finds himself gripping the bannister so helpfully lining the stairwell before remembering himself and pulling his hand back. While he would say that he is not the person in this group who's struggling the most (that dubious honor belongs to Geralt's best friend), this is a lot of stairs even for him. It's worse even than Eulmore. Yet, much like Geralt, he does have some odd sense of pride that prevents him from giving up halfway through to go back down the way they came. ]

Surely this is some manner of cruel prank on behalf of whoever built this place.

[ The words are mumbled to himself, half under his breath as he tries not to huff and puff. He watches Geralt seize the Moogle to prevent it from enacting any mischief it may have in mind. Surely even its tiny wings are beginning to tire...

Then again, it is a construct of this place as far as he can tell, so perhaps not. ]

Do you expect someone will be waiting to laugh at us when we reach the top?

[ His own domain has some deterrents in place to keep others out if he doesn't want them there, which had been half-constructed before he even had his memories. He needs to spruce the place up a bit more before it will be decent enough for company, but instead he's been distracted by all this. ]

[Jaskier has absolutely no blame here. He was merely invited. His question was not wholly rhetorical, and considering Geralt offered no answer to what's the worst that could happen, then clearly nothing too terrible could happen.

Eighteen is not. The worst. He can count to eighteen still using his own digits.

It's really. Not. The worst.]

Oi. [It's more like a release of air than a normal sharp complaint.] Be nice to Moglad. He's... he's doing his best.

[Moglad bops Geralt's head with his sword. Let me go, Master Geralt! I wasn't planning anything, I promise! His little legs wiggle as he attempts to escape Geralt's hold, wings fluttering.

Jaskier has not missed that all of them have shot Moglad a glare at least once, as he continues hovering effortlessly through the air.

He regards their newest companion, and another new torture in Jaskier's life: a handsome white-haired man.] There had better be, for I cannot suffer this another moment if it's anything less than a cosmic joke.

[He stops at the top of 19, bent over the railing as he gasps for breath, sweat beading at his temples. Moglad flutters over and applies a cool rag to his forehead. He doesn't question where in the Horizon he's found it. ♪ The faaaasteeer you gooo, the faaaaster it will be overrr, kupo! ♪

Jaskier's head drops down. Teaching the moogle to sing may have been a mistake.]

[ Be nice to Moglad. He has been nice to Moglad. How does Jaskier think his miniature bat-winged bear even knows how to lift a sword. He also truly does not have time for Moglad, in this moment.

He releases him with a frown. ]

I'm expecting a breathtaking view. [ There's a pause before he adds, ] It may not be on purpose.

[ If anyone knows the ways the Horizon twists and turns itself, born out of the parts of that one would rather not acknowledge, it's him. He has yet to address. That room. And he's been repairing Kaer Morhen by hand because apparently it decided to shatter as soon as he stepped inside two months ago. When he walked by Nadine's awhile ago, thundering rain poured over her little town and he's certain she didn't choose that, either.

Or it might just be someone's idea of fucking with people. Frankly, not a bad one. It's working.

Jaskier stops at the bottom of the next set of steps. Geralt does not. He gives his friend a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as he climbs right past. ]

[ Jaskier may, in fact, have a point. Surely even an elaborate joke would be preferable to them reaching the top and finding nothing at all, wouldn't it? That would at least mean there had been some purpose to all this, even if it's at their expense. The other option is that the three of them decided to climb all these stairs for no reason at all, which does feel worse.

Thancred glances over at Geralt, nodding even to him as he gives Jaskier a reassuring pat on the back who's taking a moment to catch his breath. ] I'll take either at this point. [ The joke or the view. He passes Jaskier as well, considers also patting him for good measure, but instead opts for a sympathetic smile.

They're all in this together, if nothing else. Save for the part where Geralt seems to be struggling much less. ]

How does he do that? I consider myself in impeccable shape, but he's on another level, isn't he?

[ Thancred doesn't bother lowering his voice or whispering so that Geralt doesn't hear, in part because he's working to control his breathing as well.

Still, Geralt may be right. Their domains do seem to form up even without their permission at times, pulling from their thoughts and emotions and parts of them that they don't dare to voice. Thancred would not want to read too much into it, especially when they don't even know who this domain belongs to (yet), but it is worth keeping in mind. ]

[Jaskier growls at him as he passes by, which is more sort of like a release of air through his teeth than anything resembling a growl. The cool cloth on his forehead is helping, as is the wind stirred up by Moglad's beating wingbeats.

He considers collapsing onto the floor. Could Moglad pull him up the next set of stairs...?]

It helps not being human, the bloody mouser. [Does the insult make sense? No. He's tired. His brain is scrambled. He's... he might throw up, actually. Do people do that? Throw up climbing stairs?

He starts shuffling forward. He may be only human, and wet with sweat, and exhausted, and sore, but he will not be left behind.]

Ooh, yes. Maybe we can consider what sort of trauma has led our little domain-haver to this particular set up. My first guess is their father dropped them off a building, which at this point I'm beginning to think they deserved.

[ It's just as well that Thancred doesn't whisper, since Geralt would hear him, anyway. He chooses not to answer. Jaskier will answer for him. Like clockwork, the bard does exactly that.

He pauses at the top of the next set of stairs to wait. He doesn't—he's not leaving an opening for Jaskier to remind him that he once left him behind atop a different climb. And outward demeanour aside, he's mildly concerned for Jaskier who looks. Hm. Pale. Possibly a stair or two away from vomiting.

His brows furrow a hint. Jaskier's remark on the nature of being dropped as a child goes ignored. ] Should I put you over my shoulder?

[ It's partly in jest, but not entirely. It's an option. They'd move quicker. Well. Mostly quicker. The reality is, Geralt has no problem leaving Thancred behind. They have not yet reached the stage of friendship where he extends the courtesy of waiting for the other to keep up. ]

[ Not human? Thancred blinks at that, watching Geralt's form distancing itself from them as he makes it up the next flight of stairs, then turns back to await them. He has no idea what "mouser" means, perhaps it's some sort of slang from their star, but it does sow a seed of curiosity. Not that he has the breath to have an entire conversation about it at the moment, but he will file it away for later.

He does manage to push himself onward after a beat or two to catch his breath and let his legs rest. ]

Maybe they were made to climb a similar set of stairs as some sort of punishment as a child. [ As he climbs, Thancred reaches up to wipe some sweat from his forehead with the back of his gloved hand. He's doing his very best not to wheeze. Or to cling to the railing.

At Geralt's offer, which he is quite certain is not for him (nor would he accept even if it was; he has some sense of pride), he glances back to Jaskier and shrugs a shoulder. ] You should take him up on it. [ Jaskier had been very insistent on the two of them being the best of friends, so why not? He might as well take advantage of Geralt's apparently superhuman abilities. ]

[Jaskier, on the other end of the normal human spectrum, wheezes. His lungs are made for work, but for. Blowing. Crafting pretty notes. Not all this huffing and puffing. His whole throat hurts now, and yes, he possibly does not need to feel pain in the Horizon, but. One must allow oneself to feel all experiences in this headspace.

Even torturous ones. He hopes they were dropped off stairs. Or made to walk up them forever. A truly evil task that Jaskier has decided they earned.

Whoever they are.

Moglad, moving to float next to Thancred, gives a solemn nod as his pom bounces to and fro. He isn't wrong, Master Jaskier. You need to save your strength for the top! You're likely to encounter horrors that you'll need to prepare yourself for, kupo.

Jaskier considers sliding backwards and rolling back down the entire stairwell. Has his friend learned humor? Is that a joke? Or has Moglad finally turned against him, waiting for him to die?]

Fine, fine! I'll take the offer. I know if we keep going you're going to start complaining about how slow I am, and I'd rather not hear it.

[And so he makes his way up that last set of steps with Moglad giving him a clap (whether enthusiastic or mocking, he is too tired to discern) until he collapses against Geralt's broad chest. He gives a pointed look to Thancred.] And you had better keep any potential remarks to yourself.

[He still has dignity, thank you. Speaking of. The same look goes to Moglad, who knows better.]

[ Geralt decides not to weigh in on his experiences with childhood punishments or anything about one's childhood as a whole. Instead, his eyebrows lift further up.

Actually—no, he did expect Jaskier to take the offer, whether it was a joke or not. It's no matter to him; hardly the first time he's thrown Jaskier over his shoulder. Which he does not do this time. He's fairly certain if he treks up these stairs with Jaskier hanging off his shoulder like a sack of cabbages, it will only result in Jaskier losing blood in his extremities.

He scoops Jaskier up with a sigh. He is growing weary of this whole thing, but they've made it this far. ] Not sure you're in a position to make demands.

[ Tease him mercilessly, Thancred. What can Jaskier do? Other than write scathing songs dedicated to Thancred's name. Geralt takes no responsibility if this happens. ]

We should've invited Himeka. [ She'd have liked to witness this, he thinks. Also, she'd have food. ]

[ Geralt scoops Jaskier up into his arms as if he weighs nothing, which he most certainly does not, but it all simply adds to the intrigue of how the man's capable of such things. The two of them are an unlikely sort of pair, aren't they? Not that it surprises Thancred much — many would say the same of him and Urianger, he's sure.

That leaves him with Moglad as a sort of companion, who flutters near him as he endeavors to follow after Geralt at a decent pace. The fact that Geralt's still climbing faster than him, even while carrying someone, is almost insulting. Thancred's reaching a point where he's too tired to care; he just wants to reach the top. ]

We should have invited her. Worry not, I'll make certain to tell her all about it.

[ If she knows Geralt, she likely knows Jaskier too, and will derive some amusement from all this.

As Thancred continues to climb, his bootsteps become heavier, and he finds himself reaching out for the railing more often than he'd like. The other two are ahead of him, though, so it's fine. They likely won't notice. (He hopes.) ]

She has a way of lightening up even the darkest of moments. I'm sure you've noticed.

[ She's not called the Warrior of Light for nothing. ]

[Jaskier wants it on record that Geralt, even after living in remorse of abandoning his best friend on the entire Continent, is still a horrible man. Jaskier gives a snort at the mention of Himeka, contemplating if Geralt would drop him if he swung his legs. For fun.

Who is he kidding? He hardly has the enrgy for it. He's enjoying the ride, as bumpy and uncomfortable as it is. He's sure to have bruises across his back by the end of this.]

Oh, she'll never let me hear the end of it, I'm sure.

[Of course he knows her! They have a very special bond, he and the dragon. And it all started with cheese, as some of the best bonds do. He stilly highly prizes the brooch he's made of her scale, tucked in a safe display in his domain.]

I mean, you aren't wrong, but it is such a poetic thing to say about a dragon who swallows cheese wheels whole. [Wait, this means Thancred knows her, too! Well, he's not exactly surprised -- he imagine Himeka finds it rather easy to make friends. She has that sort of personality.] I wasn't aware you were a friend of hers.

[If Jaskier is to be teased mercilessly -- or the potential lay there in Thancred's favor -- he doesn't see why he can't do the same.] You know, I didn't imagine marriage to a dragon like her would be so easy, but we're both so busy, we hardly see each other. Through the Horizon, of course.

[Is it a joke? Well. Sort of. He's still pretty sure she swindled him into marriage. Luckily, she has yet to use it against him. Or even question his, ah. Dalliances.]

[ Geralt would not drop him per se, but he is capable of simulating the feeling of an extremely realistic drop. He rolls his eyes to the dull stone ceiling. It is flat, smooth, strangely manmade in appearance. Not even remotely interesting as natural stone.

Marriage to a what? He squints down at Jaskier with a look that says he's contemplating whether to take this seriously or if Jaskier is simply talking shit. Both are possible.

His head hurts. He can hear Thancred lagging behind. In the interests of also conserving his strength—it is not infinite and now he's got an additional load of one (1) full-grown bard—he slows down a hint, as well. ]

She isn't a dragon. [ The difference has been explained to him. It makes sense. Himeka doesn't smell like a dragon nor hum with the aura of one. As far as he can tell, she belongs to a bipedal species that happens to have reptilian-like features. ] Shouldn't you know that before you married her?

[ Geralt did not pass on to Jaskier that Thancred is a friend of Himeka's from home? He likely shouldn't be surprised, as Geralt seems to be a man of few words. This does seem like significant information that should have been shared, but they can address it now.

She is not a dragon, and he would be happy to explain as much, but 1) Geralt beats him to it, and 2) there is now talk of marriage. More than that, Geralt appears to be taking more issue with Jaskier calling Himeka a dragon than with the whole marriage bit. Surely she would have told Thancred if she'd met someone, if they'd eternally bonded, and this must all be some joke at his expense.

Either way, this development has invigorated him with enough energy that he is able to pick up his pace and catch up to the pair in order to have a proper conversation about it. ]

You're joking, are you not? If Himeka had met someone here and become that serious with them, I am quite certain she would have mentioned it to me when I arrived.

[ While he appears alarmed, his confusion is somewhat blunted by his exhaustion. Still, he does need an answer, and to also add to Geralt's statement. ] And no, she is not a dragon. Her race is called the Au Ra. [ Did she not explain any of this? Well, it is Himeka. ]

[Jaskier huffs, waving away both of them trying to tell him something that is, obviously, completely untrue.] Joking! Hardly. She's the one who tricked me into it. And I don't know what you're both talking about, she's quite obviously a dragon. She turned into one and ate all my grapes. I don't mean to correct you, but she has a tail. And horns. And hangs out with bloody dragons.

[Is Jaskier suggesting he knows her better than his two compatriots?

Yes. Absolutely. It isn't his problem that Himeka is toying with them about this nonsense.] Or, at least, some sort of dragon-woman hybrid. I didn't ask her about it. I felt it was a sensitive topic, whether the inquiry would bother her or not.

[It would appear either the argument is fueling him with energy again, or simply having Geralt do all the effort of walking.]

Villentretenmerth did not have a tail in his human form nor horns for ears.

[ He glances over his shoulder at Thancred with a look that suggests further argument will be more futile than climbing these stairs. Some hills are not for them to perish upon. Besides, he assumes if Himeka didn't want to be mistaken as a dragon, she'd have corrected Jaskier. Unless Himeka also does not realize. Which is possible. He likes Himeka, but he also watched her use a variety of magic to open a beer bottle she didn't understand and ultimately burn her mouth on it, so certain aspects of her remain.

Questionable.

Instead, Geralt has a better line of thought to pursue. He isn't serious, but it's difficult to tell given his permanent deadpan. ] How come I wasn't invited to the wedding?

[ Tricked into it? In that case, Thancred can only assume that it is not a proper marriage and that Himeka had simply been having some fun. He will ask her about it after the fact, if only because he's curious. It does sound like an entertaining story if nothing else. ]

Wait. She turned into—

[ Around that point is when Thancred catches Geralt's look, a clear warning that there will be little progress made if he tries to argue with Jaskier further. Himeka had likely decided to simply let Jaskier believe what he wanted as well, as it's not like she would take any umbrage with being related to dragons, given her fondness for them.

The conversation has shifted to a different point of contention, based on Geralt's question. Thancred's curious to see how it plays out, and yet he also can't help but notice... ]

Oh, thank the gods. We're almost to the top. [ The final landing waits a flight of stairs above them, along with a door that will lead them to some final destination. He doubts it will prove to have been worth all the effort, but the simple fact that their suffering is over will have to be enough of a reward. ]

Edited 2022-03-31 22:01 (UTC)

As far as I know. Of course, you didn't let me see him as a fucking dragon.

[There's only a little heat in the words; perhaps most would be wise to not bring up such old, dead arguments in front of strangers, but -- at this point, it's more teasing than anything, especially when it matters so little.

Damn. He hasn't thought about it. Where has Borch Three Jackdaws gone now? Away from humanity, he suspects. As far as he can go.

Jaskier wiggles his legs, stretching them out as much as he can in Geralt's arms. He's starting to stiffen up after being carried so long.] Anyway, yes, she turned into this little -- I thought it was a snake, honestly, but she had legs. Very cute. And I did not invite you because there was no wedding -- which is not to say I would have invited you if there was, I'm only saying there wasn't. It was very abrupt, a few words exchanged, she gave me a scale. Very proper.

[The more he talks about it the less sure he is that that happened, though. As if the Horizon had him dream it up. Is Himeka going around telling people they're married? He should've asked.

He looks up above them with Thancred's realization, rolling his shoulder as much as he's able.]

Fuck. Finally. Shall we start taking bets on what we'll find? I'll put down a bag of coins and a honey cake it's absolutely nothing at all.

Edited 2022-04-02 18:51 (UTC)

[ Uh-huh. He does not point out that he didn't prevent Jaskier from doing anything. Jaskier was simply asleep. Which was for the best; men were roasted, a lot. Happened.

He looks up while Jaskier is mid-explanation regarding the wedding. The not-wedding, apparently, because he's fairly certain Himeka giving Jaskier a scale is not a declaration of marriage, but what the fuck does he know? He's been climbing for ten minutes, carrying Jaskier for half that time, and he's about done.

He sets Jaskier down with a grunt as they reach the very top. Moglad twirls above them.

Geralt steps aside for Thancred to join them. He indicates the door waiting. ] Want the honours?

[ What Thancred is quickly learning is that Jaskier seems to make up for all the words that Geralt chooses not to speak. They are more or less opposites in that way, but the best of friends do often mirror each other like this, so it makes sense to him.

Himeka is definitely not capable of turning into a little snake with legs in most cases, so Thancred can only assume this supposed marriage happened in the Horizon. That's yet another point against its legitimacy.

As Jaskier's set down, Thancred steps up to him, giving him a quick once-over before announcing, ] Well, simply know that if you break her heart, there will be consequences. [ He follows it up with a smile. Is he serious or joking? It's a bit difficult to say.

Geralt's granting him the honor of opening the door to see what their prize is for their hard work. ] That's not a bet I'm willing to take. [ With that, he steps up to the open the door, which leads them into...

Some sort of wide open room. Thancred steps in, and while there is plenty of space and some consoles that look like they might do something, there isn't much more to it. It almost looks like it's a place where people would spar or train.

He turns back to the other two as they follow him in. ] As we feared, this is startlingly underwhelming.

[Jaskier gives a huff as he's set down, straightening his coat and his shirt (which is precisely flat and unwrinkled, as it always is in the Horizon), giving Moglad a look before he raises his hand and lets the moogle high-five him.]

I told you he would. [Is all he says, ominously, before turning to Thancred with a laugh.]

Oh, that's cute. Well, I'll have you know I am not a heartbreaker. IF anything, I am the heartbreak-ee.

[It's a point he makes rather firmly, stepping back with Geralt. Usually he would take the honor himself, but he's started gossiping with Moglad already, where he can heard asking: Wait, you remember, don't you? It was definitely a marriage. Right? I'm not caught up on dragon rituals -- with Moglad's response, and a soft pat on his head with a paw, of Of course, Master Jaskier as if he didn't quite believe Jaskier himself.

Everyone is against him.

He smacks Moglad's paw away (gently, of course) and turns to follow Thancred into the room, where he ends up looking around, his hands on his hips.]

A most disappointing denouement. [He pauses.] You know, I'm filled with the urge to destroy some of these. Completely unrelated to all of the stairs we just went up, of course.

[And even as he says it, Moglad's body is enclosed in dark, pointed armor, his greatsword drawn seemingly out of thin air as he readies himself.] Is that rude? That's probably rude.

[ Told you he would. Geralt's eyes narrow between Jaskier and the moogle. Wait—

Oh, fuck it. He leans against the wall, head tipped back. Listens to Moglad and Jaskier whisper about the sham marriage to Himeka. When Thancred and Jaskier enter, Geralt doesn't even bother to follow, just turns his head to look into what is, as they have both declared, an utter fucking disappointment. Not that he expected anything else. Actually, nothing's crawled out to bite them in half, so as far as entrances to unknown locations go, this may be dull but at least no one's had a chunk taken out of them for their troubles.

He reaches out and confiscates Moglad's sword before the moogle can enact destruction upon the domain. ]

I'd rather not incite personal vendettas where unneeded. [ Is there a book? Perhaps they can inscribe their name and a note. Stairs evenly paced. Shit view at the top. ] Can we go?

[ Although going means...returning down the stairs they only just went up. Fuck. Has this place got another route? Is it truly just fucking stairs? ]

[ It's a bit odd that Jaskier so proudly claims that he's usually the one to have his heart broken. Thancred chooses to not speak to how many hearts he may or may not have broken in the past, well aware of his misdeeds — even if they had usually been carried out for a good cause. It's all water under the bridge by now, in any case.

It's simple enough for Thancred to more or less tune out Jaskier's chatter with the moogle while he explores the rather uninteresting room that they've found. While there is a thin hope that there will be something of use to uncover here, that is quickly dashed. It's possible the equipment here will do something, but he's not certain any of them care enough to try right now. He's still recovering from that climb himself, and the idea of going all the way back down isn't thrilling him.

What does catch his attention is when Moglad suddenly manifests armor and a sword that's almost as large as his body. It's not the first time that Thancred's seen moogles attempt to fight, but he's gaping at this all the same. It's absurd. ] Is he a dark knight? [ Thankfully, Geralt nips any potential property damage in the bud. Thancred looks to him and manages not to smile at the image of a very stern man holding a very small greatsword. It looks more like an ornate steak knife in his hand. ] Yes, I'm fine to leave this awful place, but hold on...

[ Having wandered to the other side of the large room, opposite from the door that they used to enter from the stairwell, Thancred sees another set of metal double doors, with a button next to them. ] Is this a lift? [ He feels his stomach drop. Could they have used this the entire time? Why in gods' name did they take the stairs, then?

With a long sigh, he pushes the button and then immediately hears the response of machinery far below humming into life. He drags a hand down his face as he waits for their ride out of here to arrive. ]

[Quit bullying me, Master Geralt! Moglad cries, and with a flutter attempts to get his sword back, but stops rather soon once he remembers he's supposed to respect the Witcher who tutored him. (Another quality picked up from Jaskier.)

Jaskier looks over from where he's contemplating kicking some sort of metal box.] Oh, is that what you call it? I suppose the armor is rather dark and foreboding. Personally, I think he just wanted to look intimidating.

[Jaskier!! Moglad wiggles with embarrassment through the air, fluttering away once he's stolen his greatsword back. It returns to its place on his back, no longer raised for wanton destruction, as Jaskier's whims have moved on.

He wanders over by Thancred's side while Moglad rests on top of a screen and sulks.] A lift? This thing? [Jaskier jumps back when the doors ring, blinking as they come apart by themselves.] That's... a lift? It looks like a cage.

[ He's a what? Geralt looks over at the moogle, letting him take his sword back. Not once has it occurred to him Moglad is becoming a knight. He merely put a sword in his hand and showed him a sign or two. ]

He's had better training than a knight.

[ Just saying. Most knights could only wish they learned to swing a sword from another Witcher. Is Geralt effectively suggesting he was the one who taught the moogle? Yes. No, he will not explain himself further. Instead, he peers at Thancred's discovery. Geralt's expression is wary.

He leans into the lift without stepping inside and pushes a button. It lights up. Hm. Were they in the real world, he'd be less keen. They aren't. ]

Can't die in the Horizon. [ He thinks. Fairly certain. He's not ever tested it personally, but it's what he's heard and it makes sense. They don't physically exist on this plane. ]

[ CLOSED ] through open passageways

thancred + jaskier (feat. moglad)

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I believe we can wrap it up here, buckos