abraxaslogs | [ CLOSED ] head down, hands up

[ He hums. No, it need not be said. He no longer disappears without a word, without contact. When they reach out to him, he answers, even in the middle of a hunt. He doesn't want to worry any of them. Jaskier still stares at the scars on his back sometimes.

He glances up, pushes some of his beans towards Jaskier with the automatic motion of a man who has long accepted his food will be stolen. He takes the dried dates in return—more of an exotic fruit back home, but common in the Free Cities. ]

She only returned from a trip. And she's found her own hunting partners. [ Apparently. She did try to deny it, but Geralt would not be surprised to discover she invited Sephiroth again at some point.

Besides, they don't often hunt together regardless. Ciri likes to have her own contracts, her own reputation, and he wants that for her, too. She's grown. She's more than capable. It's good. He feels the loss of the years between them, those missing pieces he can never get back (unless the Singularity sees fit to grant them with another burst), but at the same time, it isn't bad either, to see the woman she's become and know that he had a hand in it. ]

[Jaskier, least, gives Geralt's hand a customary smack. Just to remind him who's boss.]

Ah, so you've accepted your little girl has grown up. [He kids. It's not as if Geralt's ever went into a full dad-ish energy, but it certainly lingers around him. Jaskier likes to think he sometimes catches this softness in Geralt's eyes when he listens to her -- when it's just the three of them, or Rinwell joins in, spreading out a deck of cards or knucklebones. When Ciri grins as she wins, Rinwell reading and Hootle hooting and pecking at Jaskier's hair.

The moments, he thinks, even a Witcher can settle down for.]

Oooooh. Partners. She hasn't gone into detail on this to me. Have you vetted them? Of course, we can't have any partners around Ciri who aren't, how to say, up to par.

For hunting, of course.

[Give Jaskier a bit of ale, the memories of the Path, and he's back to ribbing Geralt endlessly. Even Mog seems to join in, stretching until his paws land on Geralt's leg and tug gently at his pants.]

[ He casts a look at Jaskier. Undeterred, he takes another date off Jaskier's plate. ]

It's Sephiroth. [ Geralt is only familiar with the man through their time on the roof with a bird and a cat. He would not go so far as to say he likes Sephiroth, but he doesn't dislike him. Which means he finds his presence acceptable.

He frowns at Mog. Geralt picks him up and puts him a few inches away. The last thing he needs are claw marks in his leathers. ]

I gave that little bird to Viktor, by the way. [ The mechanical one, he means. The instructions did not specify how the security aspect of the bird was to work. Did it scream loudly? Did it launch itself at the intruder's face? Hard to tell. Geralt decided Viktor could do as he liked with the bird so long as he promised to build Geralt something functionally similar should its features prove useful. ]

Edited 2022-05-01 05:30 (UTC)

[Jaskier goes still, his eyebrows vacating his face to climbs towards the heavens.]

It's... it's Sephiroth? The building-climber? Stiff as a board, floats like a feather? That Sephiroth?

[Okay, he needn't preface the question with anything, considering he's rather sure there is no way on earth Cadens contains more than one man named Sephiroth. Who else would really want to live with that name? It's so overly complicated.

Jaskier coos at Mog, who gives a rather disgruntled peeping mew at being moved. Eventually the gryphon simply paws at his lap until Jaskier scoops him up, rocking him back and forth like a baby. The gryphon loves it, his back paws curled up on top of his belly.]

The mechanic one? Actually, that doesn't surprise me. I'm betting he'll love to tinker with it. I will miss a little mate for my bird. But... what does he mean to do with it? I hope he's not gone the way of Aleksander and become a bird man.

Edited 2022-05-02 06:42 (UTC)

[ Geralt makes a noncommittal gesture with his hand. He will not judge Sephiroth based on their first encounter, given that entire incident was fucking absurd and not one of them demonstrated their best. Except Jaskier, perhaps, by virtue of him only crafting two decoy birds and providing enlightening commentary the rest of the time.

In any case, Ciri tolerated the company of very few while she's hunting. So consider him curious from here on out.

There is a near imperceptible shake of his head as he watches his friend cradle his little pet. ] Fuck if I know. I told him to do as he will so long as I receive anything useful he uncovers.

[ The man was handing out those birds with not much concern, so Geralt imagines it either isn't anything particularly dangerous or Aleksander is someone who doesn't give a shit if one of them accidentally lost a hand. The latter seems more likely. Which is why he's given Viktor the bird to examine rather than setting it off himself. ]

[Jaskier does not hesitate to judge based on first impressions, and Sephiroth is this: hot and strange. Though now that he thinks about it, he wonders if that might eb enough for Ciri. She's rather strange herself, and if anything, he can at least call Sephiroth even-tempered.

Hmm. Maybe it's not... a terrible choice. He adores Ciri, but she is not even-tempered.]

Huh. [Is all he says out loud. No, wait. He adds:] Suppose it could work.

[He'll need to ask for some stories. Perhaps even sneak out on a hunt -- you know, as a courtesy. A courtesy to his craft. He is rather curious about how Ciri hunts, after all, trained by Geralt.

Jaskier wiggles his brows.] Ooh. If you're lucky, maybe it will be something rather fun. I bet Viktor's the type.

[No, he does not elaborate.]

[ A scrunch of his brow and a look greets that remark. It's a security device. What sort of fun is Jaskier expecting out of it?

No. Don't answer that. ]

Weapon might do. [ Geralt does not add that Viktor is not any type except the gravely ill type. It's neither of their business and he's pretty damn certain Viktor does not want him to know. He only knows because he can smell it. (Also, he's got eyes.) Which isn't something Geralt can help, but he can at least afford the man a semblance of privacy.

They finish supper; Geralt feeds a scrap of bone to Mog when he thinks Jaskier isn't looking. The room is small, the blankets scratchy, but he sleeps easier than he has in some time. Come sunrise, he rouses Jaskier. Packs up their horses and rides out. They camp a couple more days, cross the beach that he decides they can stop by on their way home, and eventually land in the bustling city of Aquila. It isn't bigger than Cadens, but it feels so. Maybe it's the open market square, the sculptures, the atmosphere. The clothes are, indeed, more colourful, more adorned here. He's never been to Aquila proper—not to explore or visit. Only made quick stops by the outskirts for a contract.

He does have the delivery to make. A short walk takes care of that, package handed to the shopkeeper. Then: hm. What now? Inexplicably, he finds himself lost. It is not a feeling he's used to. But Geralt tends to go places for a purpose. Which he's accomplished. This is normally the part where he would turn around and go home, or find an inn to rest in before the next day's ride.

Accompanying Jaskier is the easiest solution. So that's what he does, following his friend where he might go. The bard needs someone to look after him, in any case. ]

Edited 2022-05-06 15:15 (UTC)

A weapon! Ugh, you're so boring. Just because the man looks like shit doesn't mean he can't have fun.

[Though, after their meetings, maybe Viktor should not be described as "fun." Perhaps "fun, as heard from two rooms away at three in the morning, with a vague smell in the air."

Jaskier doesn't see this time, so Geralt is lucky, only because it would be more fuel for the bard to tease him about loving the gryphon. Clearly he does, the bastard's already built a bed for the catbird, without even being asked. Once their meal's paid on his coin -- as comes naturally -- he scoops up a yawning gryphon and sets him on a blanket on the floor, curling up in bed himself.

He wakes already clinging to Geralt, as is usual. Whatever's in bed with him gets attached to. Unsurprisingly, Mog's already in the window, tail swinging, watching the morning birds chirp in a branch right outside. Jaskier scoops him into his bag, and off they go.

It's the way it's always been with them. Easy, comfortable.

Luckily, going to a new city is always entertaining. Jaskier marvels he's lived here so long and never visited, but... honestly, it's been plenty of working making a name for himself in one city, all over again.

So what does he do?

Shopping. Obviously. When Geralt finds him, he's already wearing a new hat (absolutely fetching, of course) and has a leather pouch in his hand, a gift for Ciri.] Look at this place! Already a bit busier than the Cadens market's ever been.

[ Geralt identifies the hat before he identifies Jaskier. (That isn't true. He can smell him in the crowd before he ever sees the peek of a feather.) He falls into step beside his friend. ]

Someone tried to sell me a glowing jelly in jar. [ He peers at the stalls as he passes by. The market is so fucking big, he's not certain he can tell where it even ends. Already, he can recognize goods from places outside the Free Cities—imports from Solvunn, the wine and cheese. He drops a few coins for the goat cheese, because of course he does.

As much as he isn't interested in shopping, there's one thing on his mind. As they walk, Geralt eventually stops: pausing over a silversmith's wares. Not weapons, though. Jewelry. Rings and pendants and bracelets.

Hm.

Ciri was born around Belleteyn, wasn't she? (So was Yennefer.) It's upcoming. Gifts rarely featured in his life on the Continent. Since he's been in Abraxas, though, people have...given him. Things. For occasions. And he knows he wants to mark Ciri's special day. He has something in mind. He just isn't certain if she'll like it.

Jaskier will find him lingering around where several jewellery makers have congregated. Some possess gaudy gems and shiny stones, but Geralt isn't interested in gems. He's searching for a skilled smith who can engrave and cast silver. ]

And you didn't buy it? But what fun!

[He grins at Geralt, knowing full well the man is hardly the sort to be swindled, especially by jelly, glowing or not. (A shame, though. It would have been fun to put next to his lamp.) Geralt wanders off again as Jaskier buys a bottle of wine, a rich, deep red he expects will go rather well with their next rabbit roast. In his hands are small trinkets for others: a small figurine of a horse for Rinwell, and a horror novel for Hector. The leather bag full of hand-painted cards for Ciri.

Then he finds Geralt again, peering around his shoulder.] I know you aren't looking for jewelry. Though if you are, I would love something with a yellow stone.

[ Zero shock, when Jaskier appears once more juggling a handful of purchases. Geralt, equally to the shock of no one, has purchased nothing except a cup of honeyed melons, the evidence of which he's long consumed. If there's one thing he's appreciated about being in a warmer climate, it's the fruit. Harder to come by when the land's covered in frost and snow for a quarter of the year or more. Around these parts, there's always something no matter the season, and it isn't near as costly to buy.

He doesn't look over his shoulder, even as he replies with a grunt. ] You can afford your own jewellery.

[ No one's ever accused him of being a romantic. He lifts a round silver brooch, engraved with delicate flowers. Learning Ciri's tastes is difficult. He grew up with men whose gifts, if they ever gave any, often consist of practical blades and equipment. He's given Ciri a sword and a dagger. He's searching for something...that isn't a weapon this time, but that she'd want to wear.

Maybe there's someone who can help. Namely, a certain bard who enjoys shopping. Now Geralt does glance over his shoulder. ] Ciri was born around Belleteyn. You bought a medallion for me once. [ Once he retrieved his actual medallion, he set Jaskier's on the hilt of his sword. ] I thought she might like the same.

[Jaskier pouts.] Rude.

[Mog pokes his head out of Jaskier's bag, attempting to wriggle a paw out to snatch at a hanging chain as Jaskier moves on. The bard clicks his tongue and, slowly, the paw disappears back into the bag.]

Oh? Ah! A nameday gift? For Ciri? Oh, I didn't know! And of course she didn't mention it. And neither did you, I note, until this moment.

[He had. A medallion. Not from here, but from a craftsman in Cadens who must have moved on. Still, Jaskier had long noticed how Geralt kept it, attached to his sword, once he had gained his original. A sweet gesture they've never really spoken of.

He pauses. The sentiment behind Geralt's words are practically soft as downy feathers, leaving Jaskier quieter.] I can't think of anything she'd love better. As long as it makes you think of her, I know she'll appreciate it.

[ No. He had not mentioned it. It was on his mind, a couple of months ago, because it was also Yennefer's name day, and he'd thought, perhaps, at the time—

It doesn't matter now. Ciri deserves something for her day. A quiet affair, since he doubts she wants anything extravagant, but something nonetheless. Time with her family, friends. An annoying household pet.

He hums. That's a fucking soft sentiment, too. Think of her. She is always on his mind, one way or another. Is that what happens? When you have...a daughter? Apparently. He moves to the next stall, where more silver-cast jewellery is laid out. ]

Would she like a wolf, you think? Or a lion. [ The lion cub, they called her. He knows she's made her home with him, but Cintra was her home once, too. Her roots will always be there. ]

[Yeah it's soft, but look at him! Smitten with his little princess. Anyone who hadn't caught on Geralt's heart nearly beat for her wasn't paying attention. And it was good Ciri deserved it. Fierce, and a bit insane, a bit feral, and absolutely loving. The lute he carried with him now was perfect evidence at that.

He smiles. Real advice, is it? A rare, rare bird.]

At this point, I think Ciri thinks of herself far more as yours than of Cintra. A wolf. For sure.

[He's quite sure. After all this time, all the years she can recall with Geralt...]

Something like yours. Perhaps less of a snarl? She certainly growls a good bit less than you.

[ Rare, but here they are. Jaskier knows his jewellery, and more than that, he knows Ciri. So does Geralt, of course, but—he knows better what she likes in her blades and riding gear. Besides, this feels. Important.

He grows quiet. He supposes that's true. He remembers telling her Come home, and she had. She never told him what it was that she was drawn into, what Voleth Meir showed her, but knowing the demon, it must've been something she painfully desired. And it is equally true he is not certain he wants to remind her of what she lost, her complicated feelings around Cintra. Around Calanthe. ]

Only because she likes you. [ He smiles a bit. Ciri's warmed up to Jaskier a good amount, from when they first came together. Even managed to sneakily buy him a finely crafted lute. (Geralt has zero idea that Ciri wound up taking music lessons from Jaskier because she committed too hard to the task. She's learning decently well and he likes listening to the two of them play.) ] And what have you got in mind for the girl?

Edited 2022-05-18 18:35 (UTC)

[The noise Jaskier makes is caught between a hum and a laugh.] She does. Of course she does! I'm quite likable, thank you. It's why I have so many friends.

[And so he does. Ones, he might add, that he did not make out of spite for other friends who left him far behind.

He no longer holds it against Geralt.

His fingers run over silver belt buckles, imagining the sort of wolf he would think himself: its head thrown back, flowers threaded in its fur, with pointed ears laid backwards. Geralt's choice, he imagines, will be much more straightforward in design.]

Unwittingly I've already picked her up a gift in a hand-painted pack of cards. [He lifts the small leather pouch tied to his wrist.] For the nights she destroys you in games. But for her nameday, I feel she needs something more... Is there a decoration, perhaps, for a saddle? Something that may not get in the way?

[ Many friends indeed. Geralt has few, but Jaskier has never been short of them. Even now, he isn't certain why it is that Jaskier stayed so close by his side. What's one Witcher to the most famous bard on the Continent? (A lot, apparently.)

It isn't something he asks anymore. Jaskier is his closest friend and he is, it seems, Jaskier's closest friend in turn. What reasons might lie behind how it happened or why, it no longer matters. Not anymore.

He considers. ] A furred tassel. Or horsehair. Keeps the gnats away.

[ It was not something needed on the Continent—weather's not often warm enough for that—but in Cadens, flies and other buzzing insects are a near constant hassle. He's attached a couple to Roach's tack, as summer approaches. ]

[Jaskier gasps.]

Geralt! That's actually a wonderful, thoughtful idea! I hadn't even considered such a thing. Thank you. [He gives him a peck on the cheek when Geralt's close enough, then pulls away.] I'll find one that's suitable. Only the highest quality for our little Witcheress.

[And he surely means that. Jaskier disappears into the crowd, looking for the perfect merchant for one. In the desert, apparently, these things are not so rare. Perfect! he may know how to ride a horse, but he certainly doesn't attempt to in the most sweltering heat. He much prefers wagons now he can afford one or two.

He spots Geralt and returns to him, waving a large tassel wrapped with beautifully beaded cording, spots of green beads strung into it.] What do you think? They match her eyes!

[ The bard is off like a shot. Geralt gives a grunt, waves him away even as Jaskier has already vanished. In that time, Geralt returns his attention to the silversmith. He picks through a few options. It's more care than he's put into any purchase, other than his blades.

The flowers do not occur to him, on his own. He sees them carved into a brooch, next to a circular pendant of a soaring falcon. Thinks of Jaskier saying, Perhaps less of a snarl.

Hm. Perhaps.

He places the money down for the commission as Jaskier's footsteps approach. Geralt finishes the transaction, takes a second or two before he looks over at what Jaskier's found. He takes the tassel between his fingers. The horsehair is quality. ]

Fine choice. [ She'll like it. Frankly, Ciri would like anything from Jaskier. She's inordinately fond of him. ] Spent enough coin yet?

[A rare, true compliment from Geralt. Jaskier beams. He may not know horses accessories, but he does know finery. And he thinks, renounced princess or not, Ciri deserves them. Fineries.]

Oh, don't ask me such a dangerous question. [Luckily Mog's in the bag against Jaskier's hip, because he's already lost enough arm real estate to gifts and treats for himself that he has no space to carry the gryphon, too.]

I think so. We had better move on! Now, you did promise me that this city has a fine coast, and that's what I wish to see. Seeing as your job is complete, you have no responsibilities but satisfying my curiousity.

[Jaskier gives a sort of half-wicked smile, very sure in himself that Geralt will acquiesce. As he always does.] And tell me of this medallion you commissioned. A wolf? What sort?

[ His gaze flicks down to the gryphon, with its head poking out of the bag. Other than its brief adventure on the road, it has been remarkably well-behaved. Nothing truly seems to bother it, in fact. Not the bumpy horse ride, not the crowd of people. ]

You haven't learned to satisfy yourself? [ He takes one of the bags Jaskier is juggling before its contents spill about the ground. He doesn't want to spend the next hour chasing whatever it is that might go rolling across the market square. ] On our way home. We'll stop for a day or so.

[ The bay is on the path to Cadens; it'll be, hm. An interlude. In the meantime, the city is bustling and he's certain Jaskier will want to explore it first. There are, what. Museums, plays? Geralt won't say he isn't interested in these things. It's more, he's never had much room in his life to be interested. A Witcher does not wander about art galleries and study paintings. But...these days, this world. It's different here. He has a bit more space to do what he wants, without everyone recognizing him as a Witcher.

They pay for two nights at an inn room. Jaskier explores the city over the next couple of days. Geralt is content to wander on his own, picking up imported items that can't be bought in Cadens, a few new concoctions at the apothecary, until he meets up with the bard again for something or other: a meal, a drink, a trip to look at some of the sculptures. When Jaskier has had his fill, they pack up their horses, take the short ride towards the coast. The morning breeze from the ocean is cooling. The sand is warm.

It is here that Geralt reveals the medallion, opening up the leather pouch and tipping it out into his palm. ] Less of a snarl, as you suggested.

Edited 2022-05-30 19:10 (UTC)

[Jaskier's smile will let Geralt know he's set himself up for this.] I think you know as well as I do how skilled I am at satisfying myself. However, occasionally I prefer company to my satisfaction.

[And Geralt is just that company. The bag slips out of Jaskier's hand as if he's thrusted his things at Geralt plenty of times (he has), shifting Mog on his hip a bit higher. The gryphon looks up at him with wide eyes, patting the edge of the bag with his talons before slipping his leg back in the bag.

Thanks the gods he trained him for this sort of travel. When he's not chasing down lizards, he's rather well-behaved.

Mog continues to do so as Jaskier insists they return to the market ("to see if any new merchants have showed," and then he sneaks Mog into a museum with a dedicated wing to sculptures, an art form that Jaskier has rare interaction with (mostly as decorations to castles and churches.) He keeps a hand in his bag for Mog to chew on so he makes no sounds, and Jaskier manages without getting kicked out. Then an open-air musical play for the next day, and a few hours in a sweltering sun.

He's getting a little more used to it, but the brims of his hats are getting wider to protect the bit of chest and shoulders he's begun to show off.

Still. Even with as long as they've been still here, Jaskier is eager to move on. He doesn't dally once they've decided to head off, and with Jaskier leading his horse at first and Mog running beside him, they set off.

Towards the coast.

At long last.]

You hid it from me this whole time? [He asks, aghast, as if he's not the one who asked after it then promptly let it go. (All good things come to Jaskier in time.) He runs his fingers over the carved silver wolf, the weight of it sturdy. Heavy. Much like Geralt's. (He knows it well, having moved it aside once it's hit him in the face during one of their friendlier, more naked encounters.)] It's lovely, Geralt. [He smiles, warm at this... this bond between his friend and Ciri. How much he clearly adores her.] She'll love it, I know it. I always knew all this time with me would finally rub off on your fashion choices.

[ He certainly did set himself up for that. It earns a roll of his eyes skyward before he simply walks away. Idiot.

(Which is not to say, Geralt did not provide the company to Jaskier's satisfaction that night.)

The waves lap at the shore where he lounges now. He's discovered from his time in Cadens that the desert is full of rocks and cliffs and dry spiky bushes and a surprising number of green if squat trees. Near the water, it's flatter, with sand and flowering bushes some feet away. A single crab skitters along and disappears into a hole. He'll always miss the colder mountains and travelling is more of a pain without plentiful lakes and rivers, but...there's plenty to appreciate out of the desert, too. ]

You didn't ask to see it. [ Geralt points this out, despite not needing to. Will she like it? Yes. He thinks she will. It's been a century since anyone was ever given a medallion. Ciri is as much one of them as anyone. Maybe more so, given she made the choice when most of them did not. ] Vesemir gave me mine. I thought it was only fitting I give Ciri hers.

I did so! [At some point. He's pretty sure. Still, it's good enough he gets to see it before it's hanging around Ciri's neck, which he can only imagine it will be soon enough. Given that Geralt never takes his off now he has it again and Ciri is very much Geralt's daughter...

He looks at Geralt's face, fingers rubbing together, a little surprise crossing his face.]

Nice to be able to put a face to that name after so many years. [A grouchy, no-nonsense father was a perfect representation of the man Geralt would become eventually. Even if he'd found both of them shared that terribly dry sense of humor. Dryer than the crispest wine.]

A very respectable tradition, of course. [He lets Geralt hide it away again, pausing to kneel down and pluck up a smooth shell from the sands. The waves are gentle this time of the year, and the wind just so.

It's lovely, the breeze under the brightening heat. An escape from the desert.] I'm thinking of surprising her. Telling Julie and Nadine about her nameday. I have a feeling they'd love to do something to celebrate, and... [He pauses.] I could bet she's not had something similar in a very long time.

[ He hums. He is glad Jaskier got to meet them, briefly, before they landed in this world. The other wolves. Especially knowing that he'll likely not ever see them again. The thought leaves behind a weighted ache each time. He's getting better at pushing it down.

He slips the medallion back into its pouch. ] She'd like that. Rinwell may have a dessert or two up her sleeve, I'm sure.

[ Something small, quiet, but full of friends and family—he knows Ciri would appreciate it. (Has he celebrated her nameday with her before? Her and Yennefer and Jaskier? The three, four, of them? Is that a memory Ciri holds? He's never asked. Part of him doesn't want to know, and yet.)

For him, this would be the first time he's ever spent Ciri's nameday with her. He's hoping...maybe he's hoping it'll be a good memory. Not a perfect one, but a good one. ]

[ CLOSED ] head down, hands up

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nsfw.

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