Geralt z Rivii (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gynvael) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
abraxaslogs2022-03-04 03:45 pm
gynvael) wrote in abraxaslogs2022-03-04 03:45 pm
[ CLOSED ] through open passageways
Who: Geralt + Various
When: March
Where: Cadens; Horizon
What: Catch-all for things
Warnings: Adding as we go
(( placing starters in the comments below. find me at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
discontinued or at Noa#1979 to plot stuff! ))
When: March
Where: Cadens; Horizon
What: Catch-all for things
Warnings: Adding as we go
(( placing starters in the comments below. find me at
no subject
He's relaxed, his edges calm. When Sam poses the question, the tension doesn't come. Perhaps he was expecting Sam would ask. That Sam would see what he's been doing and know. Geralt's not exactly hidden it. He's simply not said anything of it, what happened between him and Yennefer. What the fuck is there? It hurts. He misses her. And he'd say them again, the things he told her. ]
Not really. [ Even so, he finds himself turning the words over in his mind. He sighs. ] I promised Ciri, that the three of us would help each other. I can't help feeling I've let her down.
[ He isn't certain how to explain it. Only that he's—he wanted more for her. This thing they found. A family. Home. Home was Kaer Morhen until it splintered. Ciri has hesitated to enter since. Yennefer is no longer someone he can hold onto in his life, and that isn't what Ciri wants either. It feels like he can't...give her anything without it falling to pieces. He can keep her safe. He would do anything for her. But he doesn't know how to give her more. ]
no subject
which is why when he asks, and when he notices that geralt doesn't tense, sam clocks it. not as anything to react to, necessarily, but merely the realization of where they are. what it means.
( briefly, he thinks of bucky. of the difference in conversations when he would tense up, and how calm his own edges had been out in the front yard. he thinks these moments are so dissimilar - realizing when, and how, people will let you in once you prove the space is safe enough. prove to them you are safe enough. )
not really, geralt says, and sam nods. alright then. that's all there is too it, and sam's eyes go to his drink for just a moment - long enough for geralt to continue. and in that continuation, sam listens, feels like maybe he understands a bit more. there is another second or two of silence after geralt stops, if only to make sure he didn't want to say anything further, before sam speaks. ]
Someone else's choices aren't your responsibility. [ which sounds so textbook counseling session that sam has to huff out a breath, shake his head a little, and then look back up across the table to where geralt's sitting. that's not what this conversation is meant to be, and it's not what sam wants for geralt either, which is why he - internally - shifts how he's thinking about it, shifts his tone too - to something more relaxed, something more sam and less sam wilson. ]
I could just tell you that you didn't let her down; hell, you probably know that, yourself. But I don't know if that's going to help. It's not even the issue.
[ sam...knows that he hasn't really talked about it. knows that he's mentioned, vaguely, that he knows what it feels like to miss out on a significant span of years. that it's something he can wrap his head around, no matter how strange of a concept it could be.
now geralt looks a bit like he's trying to take on a burden for himself that isn't even his to carry. it's a familiar enough look, sam's seen it on plenty of other faces, has felt it on his own too. but he can't help but hear what he assumes is more on those last few words. I've let her down. ]
The thing is - when it comes to these kids, these people you would do anything for - they all grow up. [ sam is well aware that ciri isn't a child, far from it, but he still remembers the feeling of hearing that set of feet run up his stairs. of remembering the shape of the girl without a face, of hearing her laugh upstairs with his nephews. he doesn't have kids of his own, so maybe he's totally out of line here, but he continues on anyway. ] You can give them everything they could ever want, and that won't change the fact they're going to have to face the world one day. And the world is going to show them that these protectors who have done everything for them, they're just people. They make mistakes, and they do let you down. It can suck, it can be the worst thing that's ever happened, but it will happen. And they will keep going.
[ sam pauses under the weight of all he could say here - about how he wasn't there, when his father passed away. how angry he'd been at the world. how he'd left, because he couldn't handle it, no matter how good they'd had it. no matter how much better his childhood had been than the countless other people he knows. he'd been so, so angry at the world that hadn't made a place for him, and that anger had driven him away from the one place he needed to have been. with his sister, with his family, anywhere else but fighting wars and monsters.
but he has to keep going. he always has.
he finds himself leaning forward, elbows on his knees. his hand scratches at the back of his head just for that moment, while he lets his own memories, his own wave of guilt, receed again. ]
At the end of it, it doesn't matter who did what or when, or even why. What ends up mattering, most, is being there when they need it. [ he thinks about sarah, about aj and cass. he thinks about the tone of voice sarah had when she said you don't know what happened these last five years. i was alone, with two babies, and i survived. he thinks about the shadows, on steve's face, even when he smiled. he thinks about all the things he could have fixed, all the things he could have saved, if he'd just been there.
but that's not the point, is it? ] And you have been there, for her.
[ his brows lift as he looks to geralt, as if saying try to argue with me. ]
You aren't the one who let her down, here, and she knows that. Hell- this probably isn't the first time Ciri's had to deal with shit like this from Yennefer. [ a small pause, a small smile, as sam takes another drink from the copper mug. sam doesn't even know the woman, doesn't know if he ever will, but he knows that she's a part of this that can't be removed. ]
You did your part, for Ciri. [ a pause, and then sam softens. because for all that geralt might want to make this about ciri, she's not the only one affected. ] But I'm sorry Yennefer let you down.
no subject
What Sam's trying to tell him, he does understand, but at the same time— ]
She has faced the world. [ And it's let her down. The world, everyone in it. She learned that from an early age. He suspects she has learned further since, in those years he wasn't there for. Hasn't yet remembered being there for. He knows. He knows things happened that he couldn't protect her from, even if she will speak to him about none of it. ] When I found her in those woods, her entire home was ashes. She killed men before I ever put a sword in her hand. She's already seen every horror the world has to show her. I just...
[ How is he to explain? That it's not about protecting her from hard truths or the measure of cruelty in people or how fragile things can be. How easily broken and stolen away. She knows. It's because she knows that he wants more for her. That he keeps thinking, what if he's part of the reason yet one more piece of her life has shattered? It is not his burden to carry, it's true, the choices Yennefer has made. But he has made his own choices, too, where she's concerned, and he doesn't know if they're the right ones. He only knows Ciri found it in herself to forgive Yennefer. Part of him wonders if Ciri is disappointed he cannot do the same. Not in him, not that. He knows it isn't that. Something deeper, he means. That feeling which curls around your heart, which can't be helped, when quiet hopes are crushed.
She looked at him once and said, I want to be like you. And he sees it, now, all the ways in which she is and isn't like him. These jagged edges he recognizes, born from too much over too many years. She can survive it. All of it. She has. But that doesn't mean he ever wanted her to have to.
His gaze flicks to Sam briefly before it shifts away again. Yeah. He hears it—I'm sorry Yennefer let you down—and he can't bring himself to acknowledge it out loud. The words sink in the silence. He remembers thinking, they have all been there for Ciri. And Yennefer—it feels like every time he asks, every time he has tried to trust that she can be, he's left empty-handed or less.
He tips more of the bottle into his cup without answering. A fond sort of irony settles in the air instead, one meant to place to rest the topic at hand. ] She is warming up to you, though. Might even let you buy her another drink some time.
no subject
it doesn't bother him - he supposed that must have been what it was like with him and riley, even if they didn't have the years to back them up. or even if not, it's the fact of where he's found himself for most of his life. he can roll with it, does roll with it, and now when geralt says things like her home was ashes and she killed men and sam just. nods. it builds more of a picture, more of an understanding - who ciri is, what made her the way she is. I just... geralt trails off, and sam fills in. ]
You want better for her. More for her. Right?
[ it's not so hard a jump to make. he feels like he can see it in the line of geralt's shoulders. but what else is there to say? what else can he do? so sam just nods, because while he knows he'll never fully get it, he thinks he might be able to catch the shape. might be able to see the shadow. but it doesn't matter any more than that, because geralt is hurting and isn't sure what to do and yennefer is a part of that, ciri a bigger one, and sam can only just. be there when geralt glances over, catches his eyes before he turns away. he doesn't have to acknowledge it, sam can hear it somewhere in the silence, the pain and the disappointment and just how much it hurts when it's someone that close. who ends up just...letting you down.
( he does think of steve, briefly. it's a flash of a face, of an old man handing off the shield. it seizes up in sam's chest and he has to force himself to breathe around it. )
he snorts, though, at the comment. shakes his head a bit. ah yes, and there is the topic of it, isn't it? the fact that despite his best efforts, ciri still hasn't warmed up to him. ]
Is she? [ sam asks with some honest curiosity intermixed with faux disbelief. he does know geralt is joking, does sense the fondness in it, and sam can meet him there in ways. in others, though, he has genuinely been confused by it - not quite sure what it is he's doing wrong. ] See- the alcohol has never been the issue. She'll take that from me whenever. It's her being okay with me buying it for her.
[ he downs the rest of his cup with a kind of laugh, shaking his head as he reaches it out for geralt to refill. ]
You were so much easier to win over.
no subject
He looks over at Sam. His expression softens. The teasing glint fades into something more thoughtful. He knows Sam's been trying. He also knows Ciri is young. She hasn't got the decades he has. He remembers being like her, once. Mistrustful and too quick to bite. (Sometimes he still is.) ]
You didn't win me over with kindness and charm, Sam. You earned it because you trusted me with what you found important.
[ His home, Bucky. The quiet confessions about his family. Sam let him in, before Geralt ever did so in return. And though he's not been privy to Sam's conversations with Ciri, something tells him Sam may not have done so with her quite as much, if at all. Which he understands. For Sam, he undoubtedly considers it a burden. Perhaps that's what it is, too, but for people like them, it's also—an understanding. That they are all suffering, trying to move forward the only way they understand. Truthfully, Geralt isn't sure he'd be where he is with Sam if he hadn't seen Sam nearly break down over his missing friend, or the aching melancholy of his family home, or the visions they shared together. Sam might be an ally, someone he would consider reaching out to if need be, but he would not be this. A friend.
Ciri just needs time. But she also needs someone willing to trust her, too, rather than simply looking after her. He knows she can look after herself. He did teach her, after all. Whatever else—she seems to have absorbed those lessons well. ]
no subject
that's when he catches geralt's eyes and sees the way his expression softens, and it's not that the softer look is surprising to him - if anything, he's seen geralt's expression shift like this plenty of times before (mostly because it's something sam looks for, and sees) - but more so that he hadn't entirely been expecting it directed back to him. he can recognize it for what it is - that geralt can tell there is some part of him that really is still hung up on this, on the distrustful way ciri regards him.
sam takes the effort to squash the way, instinctually, he almost pushes back. almost laughs again, almost waves it off. he knows geralt would not only see through it, but wouldn't have appreciated it either. not when he's also taking the effort to talk about it too. so instead, sam just exhales. nods, once. ] Yeah, I know. [ it had been a lighthearted joke, something that has come up before - the way sam charmed geralt into their friendship, how he wasn't scared of another broody, quiet, wolf-themed man. but the only reason the joke worked at all was because the two of them knew. that it was more than that, that it had always been more than that.
and geralt's right - sam hasn't bridged that gap with ciri. not in the way he did with geralt, or even jaskier. part of sam knows the reason why, why it's been harder. why he hasn't done it the same. because for all that ciri is grown, that the ciri who runs around cadens with the rest of them is older, part of him - a subconscious part, maybe - still sees the shadow of the girl in the horizon. in the exact same way that if he's alone in his own horizon domain, he can almost hear the sounds of aj and cass laughing upstairs.
for a moment, he just sort of lets that sit before sam comes to come sort of conclusion. some decision. he downs the rest of the cup and leans forward, his elbows on his knees - not quite looking like he's going to stand, necessarily, but like he is about to do something. ] Speaking of- [ and it's not ciri he means to get into, but the later part of what geralt had said. about trusting him with what sam found important. sam waits, thinking, knowing that geralt won't rush him before he gets to it, before he finally speaks. ]
Steve's gone, by the way. I know you didn't really know him yet, but.
[ fuck this, sam thinks, feeling a sudden - almost overpowering - feeling of loss sweep through him again. he's already done this. he's already gone through this. he swallows, reaching for the bottle. ]
no subject
He lets the quiet settle. Goes back to his drink, pours himself another. The half-constructed bed lays sprawled on the ground, pushed to the side, and he knows as soon as Sam leaves, he'll likely go back to it or some other work he's made for himself until late into the night. It isn't only all the shit that's happened which occupies his mind. It's also...not guilt, not quite, but something close. The knowledge, the understanding, that although he chose to remain in Cadens for the remainder of the month—stay close to everyone who might need him—he can't say part of him doesn't itch to get back on his horse and ride out. This feeling, it isn't one he's had to confront before. He hasn't ever had anyone that might keep him home—never even had a home to be kept there at all—and now suddenly he does.
So this is how he's been dealing with it, alongside everything else.
When Sam says Steve's gone, his attention snaps up. What? Fuck. When? (Already? It's been, what. Less than a month?) He hardly knew Steve, it's true, but much like Lloyd, that isn't the point. The man was important to Sam. He understands. How much it hurts when someone you love is taken away. He hates that it's been happening more and more. That uncertainty, hovering over all of them. No matter how long you've learned to live with it, it becomes no easier. ]
Feels like bullshit every time.
[ He means more than this. More than Steve, more than vanishing bodies from this sphere. It's everything, watching blood spill, waiting for people who do not come home. Wondering why you even bothered waiting at all, but you do. And deep down, he simply does not know when his turn will come. He can't live his life waiting for the worst, but...each time yet another disappears, he can't help but ask: when will he wake to find that Ciri is no longer of this world? ]
no subject
because it's complicated, and he doesn't know how to begin to unravel it. before, he'd always had something to do. somewhere to go. between his time in the service to his work at the va to whatever it was he wanted to call his life after. there was always something to turn to, which riley died. when it was his dad, his mom. grief was never linear, he knew that, but he also knew what that beast felt like. looked like. he knew how to keep going.
this - this is something else entirely. he hadn't realized what it would look like, when bucky first disappeared. hadn't realized what this could even be. but then there was tony stark. then there was lloyd, there was julie breaking down because there was nowhere for them to go and then it steve.
steve.
sam is quiet for the moments following. geralt says feels like bullshit every time and sam almost huffs a laugh at that. yeah, it does. and he knows it does. he's been through enough of this, enough of these, some with geralt and some alone in his apartment, unable to contact, unsure of what even happens, after. peter had gone home, he had more memories and he came back remembering all of it. but was that the rule? a coincidence? was that something else? and just as geralt's thoughts adjust to it, sam's are never far off - who will be next? how long will it take? why? ]
He's- [ he's gone, back home doesn't really feels like it covers it. doesn't feel like it really explains anything at all. sam finally takes a sip from the mug. tries to force himself to exhale, to take another step. ]
It's just weird. [ what is he trying to say? sam feels himself stumbling a bit, unsure of where to start, of what he's trying to say. geralt won't push him, won't ask questions really, digging into the heart of it because that's just not who he is. sam knows this. it's part of why he finds himself coming here, why he's saying any of this at all. ]
I already grieved him, you know. Back home. [ it's said distantly, distracted, more to himself than to geralt. every day had been a different decision, a different moment, where sam felt like he was just learning how to walk. he made decisions to the best he could, and then had to face the consequences of them. steve left so much behind, beyond just that shield, and sam had been neck deep in all of them before he'd even taken it back. sam exhales, again, and it almost sounds like a sigh. ] I was cleaning up everything he left behind, when I was pulled through the well. I had moved on. [ as best as he knew how, yes, but that was part of it. acceptance - knowing that it was over, that all of it was over, and you'd never see them again. he'd given up that shield and then gotten it back, he'd taken on the name, cap, like it was his. steve's shadow was hug, all encompassing, captain america, and sam had been able to get that far in it at all because he knew he had to. because if he didn't, then the spot would be taken by someone else.
except now, what? he should be prepared at any moment? to see him again, yes, but to lose him too? ]
I feel like I'm starting over.
no subject
He knows what some tell themselves here. That the ones they've lost have returned back home. The truth is, Geralt doesn't believe it true—perhaps doesn't want to. He knows there have been a small handful who've returned with their memories intact, but in some ways, the finality of they are gone is easier for him to swallow than imagining they simply went home, safe and sound. It sounds so damn pleasant for what is a painful thing. Is it selfish? To want to prefer to think them lost forever than to let that small possibility linger, that they may return only to be taken once more? Does it matter? A part of him thinks those left behind deserve to be selfish where the dead and gone are concerned. They're the ones who pick up the pieces.
It's as though I've not made any fucking peace at all, he said to Sam once, and he hears it echoed back to him when Sam tells him now, I feel like I'm starting over. ]
I thought her dead. For months. [ He does not clarify who he means by her, but there can really only be one person he's speaking of. ] When I heard she was alive, when she found me, it felt too fucking good to be true. And then she— [ Betrayed us. Fucked me over. Broke my heart again. ] Visenna did the same. The woman who...gave birth to me. Showed up a hundred years later.
[ Then vanished, as she had all those decades ago. It should've felt like closure, facing her, but it hadn't. Just reopened old scars.
He pauses, turning his words over in his head. He's never said a word about Visenna before now to Sam, and he gives no further details. ] Sometimes we have to make our peace, with the thought that it may have hurt less had the ones we grieved not returned to our lives.
[ It's not that he wishes he never knew either of them were alive. Existing out there. It isn't that cold, isn't that simple. It's more that...fuck. Their reappearance was painful. In a different way than the losses, but wounds are wounds. You nurse them all the same. He understands, maybe, how much it throws you when someone you'd started to move past comes back to wrench your life off course. How you inevitably begin to wonder, deep down, if your heart might be a little less broken had they stayed gone. ]
no subject
but he also knows better. with the multiverse at play here, with the possibilities extending in every possible direction for infinity, there's no way to prove any of this will have anything to do with what is at home. sam could either leave and be right back in delacroix, or he could never see his sister, or nephews, ever again. because he could just be one of millions, of billions, of versions.
the steve that showed up, the steve he saw, could have easily been the same steve he set off on that platform. or it could have been any of the billions of others. and yet sam can't stop thinking about it like he was the same one. and that's not fair, is it? that some version that isn't even his-
( and yet even now he can hear his mom, his sister - does that really matter? yours or not? be kind to them all, open your heart to them, be who you are. the rest will fall into place. )
when geralt speaks, sam does finally look up over to him. can hear yennefer's name, even when he doesn't speak it. there's a complicated layer added onto everything he just sort of knows when it comes to yennefer, now. knowing she was thought to be dead. knowing that she obviously isn't. it catches on somewhere in sam's chest. he almost speaks on it, mentions it, but then geralt continues. mentions a visenna and...oh. sam thinks back to that conversation they had back on his horizon, the way geralt had tensed, hadn't engaged, in any mention of mothers. now, as he says gave birth to me, sam sees more of the puzzle pieces fit into place.
a hundred years.
sam opens his mouth, and then closes it again, because he's not exactly sure what he wants to say. he thinks he gets what geralt is saying, thinks he understands that...yes. it would have been easier if steve just never showed back up. it would have been easier if sam knew that there was no going back, so he just had to move on. let go. it's what he told bucky to do, after all - to find closure. ]
I think it's also about the choices they make- to leave. Yennefer, Visenna... [ sam gestures, vaguely, implying they made their choices. ] Steve did, too. But it's- [ sam tenses, cutting himself off as his eyes go back to his drink. how does he even explain this? how does he explain any of it? for a few moments geralt can probably tell that sam is thinking, considering his words, before he finally lets out a sigh and sets down his cup. leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. ]
Back home, I left him, in a way. Steve. I guess I kind of...died. But wasn't my choice. [ he figures might as well, and jumps into it, face shifting to a kind of darker laughter as he shakes his head. ] Hell, half the fucking universe stopped existing for five years and I was part of it- but I did. And he got me back, and I thought maybe we would have the chance to talk about it. About anything. Because I know what those five years did to him, I know how it feels to be left behind. [ if there is something tight and a little shaky around those last few words, sam doesn't acknowledge them. pushes by. ]
But in the end, he had a job to finish, and he made his choice. [ it nearly overwhelms him - the regret of not just asking him. how steve had been around for days, weeks, and sam just never got to it. his eyes are hard on the cup he left on the table between them, letting the feeling of it rise and then settle somewhere in his chest.
because sam has spent months, over a year now he guesses, trying to figure it out for himself. steve's reasons, steve's choices. he understands the shield, bucky made that piece clear enough, but it's the rest of it. all of it. sam sighs again. ]
no subject
His brows draw together. Sam's mentioned only once, those five years. Not that died. Or, what. Vanished? Is there a difference? How does that work, to disappear and reappear after five years?
For a long moment, he only watches Sam. Part of him believes that no matter what you do, someone will be left behind. That it isn't possible to keep all those important to you over the years, decades. And the question starts to become, how much do you want to continue bringing others into your life? He spent a long time alone, for a number of reasons. Now he's both lost and gained people than he has in years. He's left some behind. Choices he will never be able to explain, because he will never see them again.
Regret is not an accurate term for what he feels. He made a decision, and every decision comes with a sacrifice. It's simply...a deep-seated, almost childish wish, that he could at least tell them why he did it.
In the end, he sets his drink on the table. ] You didn't see it coming. [ He can hear it in Sam's voice. There's something a touch gentler when he asks, ] Is that the reason you regret not speaking to him? You may have seen the signs, if you had?
[ Because he thought the same about Yennefer. If he'd only been there, if he'd talked to her, come back sooner, pushed harder at the temple when he realized she was lying—maybe there was something to be done before it all got so completely fucked. But that is not how it works. That's the sort of regret that will drive you to madness if you hang onto it. ]
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whether or not sam sees geralt's brows knit together because his eyes are on the mug between them instead, it doesn't matter. he can feel the slight tension, knew the second he mentioned any of this that geralt would put the pieces together. sam isn't exactly sure how it is he's supposed to be feeling - he hadn't meant to keep that a secret, necessarily. it wasn't supposed to be any kind of big reveal. there just wasn't much to say about it, and considering everyone back home got it, in their own way...
geralt's eyes are on him for a good time after he finishes talking, and while sam does glance up to catch his gaze at some point, the majority of his attention is on the mug. the drink. part of him isn't even sure geralt understands what sam is trying to say, mostly because sam's not entirely sure what it is he's trying to say, either. you didn't see it coming he says, and sam lets out a quiet huff of a laugh. no, he hadn't seen it coming, because the steve rogers he knew wouldn't have done it.
but five years can change a person. five years is about how long he knew steve. isn't it a bit selfish to think he should be allowed to be surprised at all? things change, people grow, decisions are made and lives keep going or they don't and that is just the way of it.
the softer tone to geralt's question has sam looking back over to him - just for a moment, just for a second - before his eyes are back to the space between. is that the reason? is that what he's so caught up on? ]
I don't know. Maybe. [ a pause, and then sam is rubbing one of his hands over the back of his neck. over the top of his head. ] I mean- that's the easy thought, right? That if I'd just seen it then maybe something would have been different. Or maybe nothing would have changed at all. [ sam has regrets, and a bunch of them do have to do with steve rogers, but not about that. he doesn't think.
because if given the chance, he's not sure he would change any of it. his road to becoming cap, having the shield, knowing what being captain america will mean... they're things he's proud of. he's in a place he's proud of. and while he's still not entirely happy about how steve never bothered to tell him about his plans, how he didn't know what it would mean to get the shield at all, that's not really the problem, either.
for a few more moments, sam is quiet. thoughtful. working away at the knot that has worked itself through his ribs. what is it that's bothering him, if it's not that? he feels a bit like he's been lying, that he intentionally kept it all from steve because he didn't have the chance to say anything about it. but the more sam tries that on, the more he doesn't think that's it either. ]
I think... [ he purses his lips, shakes his head. what follows comes spilling out of him, and sam doesn't really bother trying to mince his words. ] I think it's knowing he can end up coming back again. [ which...that is at least part of it. he can tell by the way that feels, now that he's said it. ] That he could show up again, and then leave, and he could forget everything. I didn't talk to him this time around because I was worried about how he'd react, but now that he's gone it's kind of like...I don't know. Kind of like even if I had said something, what would have bee the point? If he ever shows back up again, he probably won't remember it anyway. Strange didn't, Bucky didn't. Makes it all feel kinda pointless.
[ which...that's also probably why it's been so hard to wrap his head around. why sam's struggled to get to this point at all. because that's not like him - to be tired, to find things not worth the effort. captain america definitely isn't the type, but neither is sam wilson, and yet. yet. he can't shake the feeling. ]
no subject
The concept seems a relief, on the page. But Geralt can see how much of a curse it really is. ]
Yeah. [ He doesn't disagree, doesn't tell Sam that there's some value to be found here that he's missing. There isn't. ] Sometimes that's how shit feels. Fucking pointless.
[ And maybe if he were more like Sam, he'd go as far as to tell Sam that he's allowed to feel that way, that he's allowed to feel tired and like some things aren't worth the effort. He's allowed to build some walls around himself because you can't push through the world without doing so. You can't. It'll kill you, slowly, a resentment and bitterness that overtakes as you start to think, why are you the only one trying when the world will not give you a moment to breathe? But Geralt is not Sam, and so that blunt sentiment sits there on its own, to be taken however Sam wants to take it.
He pauses, taking another sip. ] You made friends, didn't you? As a soldier. Imagined a future. Every one of us, we know deep down everything can change in an instant. We move through life, anyway. Steve was here and now he's gone. You can't grieve him if you're trapped thinking of some unknown time where he might return.
[ He's done the same. Not a long future, not that, but in small ways. He remembers winters spent making plans with his brothers for the next frost. Like the assumption was they would all return, safe and sound, year by year. Even for those as worn down by the decades as them, they did it all the same. Geralt can't say why. It isn't as though they weren't well aware of how fragile their lives were. Maybe there's simply a compulsion that exists in all of them to forge connections as if they were permanent, no matter how tenuous they truly are. ]
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sam had never been one to be comfortable without steady footing. so much that the second things started getting rocky, back at home with his parents and the house and the boat, he took to the skies. literally. and now? now it just feels like anything he might try and dig his heels into will just fall out from under him anyway, any foundation would simply be made of the same sand that stretches out in each direction, all around them.
sometimes that's how shit feels. fucking pointless.
which...is pretty much, to the t, of what he expects to hear. it catches him for a moment all the same, a single moment where he just thinks about that. not necessarily the blunt tone to which he's said it, but the truth of it too. the way sam had been sitting on the sentiment, on that knowledge, and knowing that was coming - whether or not because he knows it to be true or because (maybe) he knows geralt that well.
either way, sam feels himself huff a kind of laugh - and with that laugh, a release of tension. not all of it. not everything. but enough. it releases enough that he can take another deep breath, can unwind himself enough to reach for the drink and take a long sip of it. it's not until geralt continues, that the question of you made friends, didn't you? that sam pauses again, freezes mid-drink because he always does whenever memories of riley strike him across the jaw. but then it passes, just as it always does, and sam blinks away the feeling of a different desert, a different time. we move through life, anyway. they have to, don't they? they don't really have the choice.
geralt must know this. sam knows it, too. but leave it to this place, this time, so far from his solid footing, that has him feeling... whatever this is supposed to be. ]
Yeah. [ he offers, because he doesn't know what else to say. he can feel the urge to turn it on its head, to ask geralt something about him - anything - because he feels the focus and attention on his own problems, on his own discomfort at that, even knowing that he shouldn't. he wants to change the subject, but also doesn't really want to run off like that.
so for a few moments, there is silence. the distant sounds of the street, of the creaking of the building, of the life all around them. and then, when sam feels like he's solid enough, he lifts his mug as if to inspect it. ]
His name was Riley, by the way. [ he doesn't even look over to geralt, when he says it. doesn't feel like he needs to. ] The friend I made.
[ geralt didn't ask, but the implication is there. the was. the imagineda future. sam lifts the mug almost like he's offering it in cheers before he finishes it off.
riley. steve. natasha. vision. he supposes he should be ready for any of them, shouldn't he? (god, even his parents.)
he feels exhausted, now more than before, as he focuses on the taste of the wine instead of anything else. ]
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Was. Yeah. He knows how it feels. Remembers it a bit too sharply, his blade sinking into Eskel. He knows he wasn't the reason Eskel was taken from him, from them, but does it even fucking matter? Not really. Not when it just. Sits so heavy. How much more weight can they take? He doesn't know. He's lived a long time and he keeps thinking, there must be a limit. There must be a point where it becomes too much, but he's never found that point for himself, where he stops and lets it bury him. He isn't certain he's capable of it. Of stopping. Sometimes he wonders if it would be easier if he were.
Maybe that's a curse, too. That drive that keeps them going even when their world is crumbling.
Geralt looks down at his feet. One of the floorboards is lifting, uneven. He should fix it next. ]
He must've been a good friend. [ A lightly teasing hint rises in his tone—a shift. Geralt's not one to linger over a topic once he's said his piece. And he doubts Sam wants to ruminate all night on shit that can't be changed. ] To put up with you.
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sam doesn't know if there will ever be, or has ever been, a part of him that has been secret. it was part of the reason he'd told fury that so long ago, more of a soldier than a spy. but in that same vein, he also realizes he doesn't know if he's talked about riley, either. supposes that in a way, a lie by omission is just as bad. he lets out a breath, feels the rest of whatever tension leave him, laughs once at geralt's tease. ]
Yeah, yeah. [ sam is smiling, taking the tease with grace. ] But hey- putting up with me can't be all that bad. You've done it long enough.
[ which is more of an acknowledgement than anything, sam putting in words what he's confident both he and geralt have already come to an understanding on. what this is, what this has become. impossible circumstances, impossible places, and yet...
geralt is not one to linger, and neither is sam. which is why his eyes dart over to the bed, in the corner, and his brow raises. ] Alright- have to ask. What is that for?
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The idea that Sam, too, could be taken at any moment—he tries not to think about it. ]
Could be worse. [ There's the smallest tilt to his lips.
His attention lands on the half-constructed bed. Geralt gives the vague grunt of a man who does not want to assign any importance to this thing he is making which is, in fact, of some significance. ]
Jaskier came home with a...pet. [ Which needed a bed. So here he is. Making it a damn bed. ]
wrapping here maybe???
so they don't, and so sam asks about the bed and they continue to drink this nice bottle of alcohol and maybe they'll had down the street to a tavern for dinner, or maybe they'll just spend the rest of the day right here. sam's pretty okay with either, and as geralt grunts, sam just. lifts up a brow. ]
Jaskier brought home a...pet. And so you're building it a whole bed to itself. [ a beat, as if just to make sure geralt knows that sam absolutely is seeing the significance here. before he just sort of shrugs and takes another drink. ]
Sure. Why not.