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
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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?
no subject
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.