abraxaslogs | [ CLOSED ] through open passageways

( Dean takes the mug and raises it to his lips, but before he drinks he cocks his head to the side a little and mumbles into the cup; )

Had more than one princess in my castle, I'll tell you that much.

( Followed by a pointed drink.

Princesses were flowing in and outta that Impala like Six Flags in July.

He'd get the rats thing too, though. Dean's rebuilt the Impala — both in his mind and in reality — with every little flaw it was supposed to have. Carved initials in wood paneling. Army men jammed in ashtrays. Bobby's house is as cluttered and dusty upstairs as it ever was back home. He doesn't believe in only taking the good and leaving the bad. Call it authenticity, call it real, call it whatever you want. )

[ A deep sigh trails after Dean's remark. It's such a typically Dean response, Geralt doesn't even grace it with a reply.

Instead, some time after the food lands unceremoniously on the table, he asks, ] You've learned to use that power of yours?

[ The unexpected magic bestowed on people remains a curiosity to him. That it manifests differently in folk makes sense. That there are those in which it seems to not show at all makes less sense. They're all connected to the Singularity the same way, are they not? Or is that a presumption that might prove incorrect?

Might be. A lot, they don't yet know. In any case, it's a useful skill for a hunter who's entirely human. ]

( Congratulations, Geralt! You have now joined in with an elite list of people who know Dean well enough to completely ignore Extremely Dean Things. It's like some kind of rite of passage to progress through Friendship Stages. Allow the fatigue to flow through you. Brace for future flecks of annoyance or fondness where appropriate.

He's balls deep in a chicken wing when the question floats up, and he answers with one cheek puffed up with food. )

Hell no.

( Bluntly, but not unpleasantly. )

Probably wouldn't have almost had a vivisection for breakfast this morning if I could. Practically took a Chaigon's head off the other day on accident, though, when it went for my horse. ( He swallows, then sways a little in a half-shrug. ) Not that the horse gave a crap. Total ingrate. But uh- no. Seems like it just comes and goes whenever it wants.

( If he had the faintest bit of control over it, bet your ass he'd be swapping those two incidents. )

[ Unfortunate, that Dean will never have the chance to encounter Yarpen Zigrin and his band of merrily slaughtering dwarves. They'd get along swimmingly.

Geralt has a bone in his own hand, thoughtful expression on his face. When it went for his horse? ]

Like when it went for me. [ Twice does not make a pattern, but hm. Something to consider, for when it happens a third time. ] I couldn't tell you much more. Never picked up magic in this place.

[ He supposes he could, if he spent the time and effort. He simply hasn't found it worth that time. Feels as if it'll interfere not only with his work, but with how he's learned to fight since he was boy. The most he's considered is perhaps seeing what more he could do to strengthen his Signs here and there.

Besides. Visenna was a sorceress. A mage. He is not. He never had his chance to decide, to explore what aptitude he may or may not have had, because she handed him over to the Witchers. Closed every door for him in the process. Deep down, he's reluctant to ever veer towards a path that belongs to someone that never was. ]

( Buddy, you could not even fathom how awesomely he would get along with those dwarves. Force to be reckoned with. It's for the best the world never sees that team-up.

Like when it went for me; vague, unhelpful shrug. Two times a pattern doesn't necessarily make, but who knows. Could be. )

It ain't like what we had back home. ( So he can relate. ) Where I'm from it was more... stick fifteen ingredients in a bowl on a full moon, burn somebody's hair over a map to figure out where they are type crap. Summoning stuff. Rituals.

( Pause, and then an amendment— )

Well, except for demons or demon-sponsored witches, but screw those clowns. If you gotta maim your soul to throw a fireball, it's not worth learning. Besides, fireballs can't stop bullets and you can't cast spells after your head gets chopped off.

( If you can dodge a wrench, etc. )

It's all magic. Just the degree to which it manifests.

[ Ambrose once suggested the connection to magic is strengthened here due to their proximity to the Singularity. Geralt thinks this may be true. It would track, that worlds which exist on some invisible path further from the monolith holds less magic than those closer to it. To him, it's the only thing that explains the threads of commonality between how magic is formed across each realm: variations on rituals and alchemy and spellcasting, manipulation of the elements. No two are exactly the same, but it's all more similar than not. Same idea for the monsters.

The biggest difference is not in what type. Rather, it's in how much. As in, how much of the magic and monsters are present in each world itself. ]

Back home, mages are trained into such if they exhibit early signs of Chaos. A conduit moment, they call it. Perhaps on your sphere, the connection is weaker. More complex spells can't be cast without making deals with...demons.

[ It would also explain why Dean's world apparently draws more of them. Because people seek them out, for what mystical gains they may want. Powerful mages for hire would not available, as they are on the Continent, since no one wields that amount of power in the first place—thus, demons. ]

( It ain't a bad theory. Stick that big fuck-off rock in Boise and a crapload of randos would probably start throwing fireballs out of nowhere, too. At least this place is more equipped to handle that kind of chaos — with a lower case c. Dean would be working himself into the freaking grave back home.

He hums distantly, thoughtfully. Gives one of those little tiny sways that read you might be right but who knows. )

With one or two exceptions. Gods. Angels. The occasional anomalous douchebag. Trendline on the idea holds up.

( Followed by an absent shrug. )

Anyway, point being that ain't really my thing, so. I'm not gonna go holding my breath on joining wizard school. Think I'll stick to the stabbing tactic. It's been working for me so far.

( A beat. )

Well, I've died like a dozen times, but aside from that.

Edited 2022-03-12 14:55 (UTC)

Those are entities. [ Geralt says it casually. People can call them what they want, but they're all entities. Chaos flows through them differently. It's largely humans who need to be taught to channel magic, and humans who don't always have the affinity to do so. Except here. Even ones who normally would not in their own sphere, like Jaskier.

He peers closely at Dean with a mouthful of chicken. He doesn't think it's entirely a joke, but he's not certain he wants to ask for the full story of how one dies a dozen times over a meal.

Hmm. Or.

—No. He won't ask. He slips the information away for another time.

His eyebrow lifts. ] You and I have a different definition of what counts as working.

( Touché, Geralt. You got him there. Also, probably good call on holding the questions if he plans on keeping his appetite.

Actually, you know what, considering their careers, that probably wouldn't make much of a difference. Still doesn't make for fun, pleasant dinner conversation. )

Yeah, well. You're a biologically engineered whirling dervish with bricks for bones, and my best friend used to have a shortcut to the afterlife. Call it a lifestyle difference, agree to disagree.

( Casually, dismissively, and preceding another too-big Meat Bite. Just normal, everyday stuff people say all the time happening over at this table. It's fine.

The keywords should probably be used to, though. Can't exactly fall back on that anymore. Dead's gonna mean dead — which you'd think would make him more reluctant to do dumbass suicidal crap, but uh.

Nope. )

What, your angel?

[ Geralt is only asking to ask, because there's a point where he does not grasp half the shit Dean says and he isn't looking to, either. It doesn't especially bother him; he's pieced things together bit by bit, every time the occasional remark or answer fills in a blank space. Not all of it makes sense in the moment, but eventually, some of it starts to.

What Dean is insinuating sounds like an impossibly powerful form of necromancy. But he's certain that's not what the man means because that's. Hm.

He takes a drink. Maybe he shouldn't have even asked about the angel part. As always, though, there's an instinct that lives inside Geralt which makes him...tug. On certain doors that shouldn't be opened. ]

( He clicks his teeth and points his glass at Geralt — a wordless bingo. Got it in one.

Call it necromancy to his face sometime and watch the visible thought-journey that follows, it's bound to be hilarious. )

Cas.

( He adds on after a swallow and post-sip exhale. Just in case the guy forgot his name. )

Probably find him hanging around in the bar sometimes too, speaking of.

( Didn't think to mention that at the same time as Amos, just because Cas is kind of a given in his mind. Home to Dean is home to Cas automatically by extension, it's just easier to assume at any given time he might be in Dean's general vicinity. )

[ Geralt appears to take a moment to go on a thought-journey of his own. His eyes are faintly narrowed. The multiple branches growing from this one comment is probably something he needs several drinks and more than a roasted pheasant to sort through.

He sweeps it all aside. He's got enough on his plate as it is. ]

Mm. [ No surprises. He has the same, now that Dean brings it up. ] Ciri, as well.

[ Dean will find a small cabin on top of that, located a ways from the keep but on the same snowy stretch of mountains. It's where Ciri goes when she isn't in the fortress itself. Perhaps it says something, he mentions Ciri but not Jaskier—a sense that she's not a frequent visitor or a close friend who's always welcome, but rather that she, too, has made it her home.

Though she's been more hesitant to step inside as of late. He can't blame her. ]

Kind of figured that one.

( He agrees easy as breathing. Dean's a perceptive guy. He saw them at Sam's not-Christmas party. They're both pretty stoic, might be hard for other people to pick out based on relatively short public interactions, but Dean knows family dynamics when he sees it. He had a kid once. Almost. For a while. Even without that year, he'd have picked up on it. )

How about the dork with the lute and the totally wrong opinions about pie?

( He remembers the name, he's just throwing shade at the guy — new phone, who dis. Never forgive, never forget, crust is life.

Which is to say, Jaskier wouldn't be a deterrent for swinging by. The opposite, actually, but he won't admit that even if you hit him with the thumbscrews. )

[ Some things are easier to let be observed than to explain it. That's how he feels about Ciri. He occasionally says I found her and I trained her when she was a girl; the rest is left for inference.

He huffs. Right. That argument. Geralt watched it bounce back and forth for a minute or so at the time, then promptly exited to find Sam and shared a drink with the man. ]

He has his own space. [ Geralt shrugs. ] I come by his now and then.

[ Almost never the other way around. It's hard to explain. Kaer Morhen has often been...separate between them. He leaves Jaskier in winter; he returns in the spring. Those cold months in between, Jaskier has simply not been a part of. The bard goes off to Toussaint or Oxenfurt or where he will. Comes back with dozens of stories when the frost melts. Jaskier asks of Kaer Morhen, but has never asked to accompany Geralt—as though he's always implicitly understood it's a place where the Witcher goes to shut out a world that does not want him in it. ]

( Dean lifts his chin in a way that never quite makes it to a nod, and it's accompanied by a soft huh and a minute shrug. Now and then is just a surprisingly noncommittal concept to him in terms of BFF accompaniment. But hey, different strokes for different folks, not everybody grew up as ~~codependent~~ close-knit as him and Sam. Once you reach a certain ranking on the Winchester List of Family Don't End In Blood you wind up wishing for a now and then dynamic sometimes.

For all they have in common, they're not on the same page about this one. This is where their tarot cards differ.

Personally — not that he's even really aware of it — his lizard brain couldn't really imagine the idea of not wanting to drag His People into the spaces he finds sacred to him. He's never as content as he is when the Impala's full, or they're all at Bobby's — or, in the near future, piled into the bunker.

Probably healthier having things like 'boundaries' and 'personal space' and 'time apart'. If you're into that kind of thing.

Everything about him loudly reads: no comment but I clearly have plenty of thoughts about that

Contrary to popular belief, it looks like he is capable of a little restraint sometimes. It's channeled into taking a thoughtful swig of his drink instead. )

Edited 2022-03-14 02:45 (UTC)

[ For Geralt, the statement is of zero significance. He and Jaskier share a home. He sees the poet plenty in the city. The Horizon is a space to communicate, which has no bearing when he can talk to him in person. Besides, Jaskier is more deeply entrenched in his life than most others, even before they were dragged into this sphere together. In fact, he's spent more time with Jaskier than he has with his own brothers.

It's in part the nature of his world. Horses only travel so fast. Going months, even entire seasons without seeing someone who's otherwise a good friend, is commonplace for those who have no roots like him.

But Dean has that look which says Geralt has insinuated something unusual. Sometimes Geralt lets it go. Not everything needs to be prodded at immediately. Right now, though, he feels the need to press a little.

Because he is who he is, it comes in the form of him peering at Dean: scrutinizing, a look that suggests he knows Dean has something on his mind and that he may as well spit it out. ]

( For as cool as they've been, Dean still only knows a snapshot of Geralt's life. He'll pick up on the context later, get a better idea for the dynamic as he gets the opportunity to observe it. In the meantime, all he's building his impression by right now is a little weird Horizon delineation and a Christmas party.

He must be starting to get some idea of the guy, though, because he can clearly read that entire thought from start to finish written in Geralt's flat ass stare. He holds up an absent hand - mea culpa - and follows it up with a slow (but good-natured) shake of the head. )

Nothing, it's nothing. It's just- ( How in the hell does he phrase this when he barely knows what he wants to say? Give him a beat or two to formulate. Maybe start with a disclaimer: ) Look, you're about as hard to read as a Braille hieroglyphic half the time, what do I know? Just sounded a little weird, is all. You guys seem close, but it sounds like he doesn't lute it up in your mountain castle. Is that like a thing or something?

[ His brows draw together. Hm. Admittedly, not what he expected Dean to say. He doesn't grasp, entirely, what Dean means to ask—they are close. Jaskier is his oldest friend. He isn't sure what that has to do with Jaskier's presence in his domain. ]

Few set foot in Kaer Morhen back home. We aren't open to outsiders. [ Probably not the explanation Dean is searching for, but it's the one Geralt gives: Jaskier is the only person who knows enough about Kaer Morhen that he might feel he were intruding. For everyone else, they've merely stumbled upon an old crumbling fortress of no significance. ] And Jaskier is plenty in my space out here. I can only be drooled upon so many times in my sleep.

[ The remark is dry, but without any real irritation—a thing he's used to. Here is not the first time he's shared a bed with Jaskier. Sometimes a backwater village has exactly one bed available for the night. You make do. Cadens has been no different, given they came here with lint in their pockets and a stolen ring to their name. Two beds has been all they've managed between the three—then four—of them. Half the time, he sleeps on the floor of their rented home. The other half he's nursing a bruise or some other injury, so he shoves Jaskier over to take a portion of the mattress. Not ideal, but it suffices. ]

( Understanding begins to filter in finally; we aren't open to outsiders. Like a monk thing, he guesses? He opens his mouth — whether it's to clarify or comment quickly gets lost as his mind processes tha last bit.

It hit his brain first as a throw-away joke, but now the skull meat electricity's sparking a little and noticing Gerealt's got that irritated-but-not, resigned because it's true hashtag first(?) world problems look on his face. )

Wait, you guys still share a bed?

( The why is unspoken — he's not sure how much Jaskier makes wandering around annoying strangers with ballads, but surely Geralt — mister you get paid to hunt, dumbass — makes enough money to get his own damn bed right? They been here a while. Early days he'd get, him and Sam have had their fair share of splitting a queen when they money got gone. Seems weird that it's a long term choice.

For there is no other immediately logical explanation, you see. )

[ He levels a look at Dean, with a vague gesture that says, And? His reply is a flat, ] I'm in it when it suits.

[ Why this needs to be a question, he isn't certain. The reasons are several in reality—absolutely nothing Geralt chooses to do has a single uncomplicated answer—but it isn't hard to presume it a matter of convenience from the outside. Which it is, in part. Sleeping comforts don't register to him as worth putting down the coin for. He's rarely home in the first place—spends most of his nights in the desert. Ciri is the same, so they piled into that cramped room at the start and never left. In exchange, they've two steady horses and a small handful of fine-crafted weapons. Geralt is particular about his sword; he will not pick up any common blade off a smith's table. Both his and Ciri's were forged to specifications; he's recently replaced his own blade with the meteorite steel he couldn't afford early in. He'll take a good sword and horse over a bed any day.

But there's also how Jaskier's sleep has been restless ever since the memories poured in. Geralt keeps him company in the night these days, when he might normally have tossed a pillow on the ground and slept there instead. It seems to help, even if Jaskier has a habit of clinging harder than a fucking ocean squid. That is a personal matter, however. One he is not interested in divulging. When it suits sums it up well enough. ]

( That earns a distinctly more puzzled look than his earlier speculative, huh. Cultural differences, hombre (or toxic masculinity differences). There's an unspoken, arbitrary limit on reasoning and duration for dudes sharing a bed with another dude.

Evidently that's not something that holds true in Geralt-world. )

Wellp.

( He declares decisively. )

That all sounds bass ackwards, but as long as it works for you two weirdos.

( Punctuated with another drink. It's none of his business, and he doesn't have the right mustache situation going on to be playing Dr. Phil over here. )

I stabbed Cas square in the chest first thing when I met him, I'm not exactly one to talk about normal interpersonal relationship dynamics. You do you, booboo.

Edited 2022-03-14 17:13 (UTC)

[ The bemusement goes both ways, though some understanding settles over him the longer Dean picks at the topic. When he says dynamics, as if he's learned something new worth commenting on about Geralt's relationship with Jaskier.

It's a strange aspect to give someone pause. Perhaps if this were between royals or amongst some villagers with their own rules and unspoken norms—but he's none of these things. Witchers are outcast for so many reasons that who he chooses to bring to his bed is the furthest item down the list. No one's ever looked twice at him over it. They're too busy staring at his hair, his eyes, his sword. Occasionally the severed monster head he takes upstairs with him.

After a second, he just raises an eyebrow. Amusement lurks around the edges. ] Should I be concerned you equate sharing a bed with attempting a murder?

[ These are two incredibly different choices, Dean. ]

Edited 2022-03-16 15:10 (UTC)

Probably.

( He concedes lightly, with Zero worry in his voice. Such is the nature of Winchester — never afraid to admit his flaws. They are in abundance, and easy to joke about.

He still hasn't figured out that sharing a bed means Sharing a Bed. That'll be a revelation for some time later.

He grunts, pushing himself back away from the table. )

On that note, I think I'm gonna go scrub off the near-death experience.

( Welcome to Officially On A Touch Basis; a hand claps down on Geralt's shoulder, and he gives it a nice, testosterone-fueled squeeze and shake, the customary goodbye. )

If you're feelin' froggy later, swing by the bar. If my lung hasn't fallen out of my chest, I'll drink you under the table and teach you how to lose at pool.

[ CLOSED ] through open passageways

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