abraxaslogs | EVENT #7: THE SIGHT

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EVENT #7: THE SIGHT

Event #7 - The Sight

go to the OOC event info and plotting post

The night before APRIL 18, your dreams are disrupted by a vivid image of the same eclipse that occurred last month. The black sun seems to be an endless void in the sky, growing ever darker - until it suddenly opens into an eye that stares straight at you.

When you wake up, much of your night seems a blur except for the vivid dream of that eye. Whether you find it unsettling or try to ignore it, the image is something you cannot get out of your mind. If you ask, you will discover that none of the locals of your faction saw another eclipse. Speak with your fellow Summoned, however, and you may learn that while there was no eclipse that formed over the world, you were not the only one who had this dream.

Of course, dreams don't need to mean anything. You can't feel or see any immediate effects, and nearly everyone around you is going about their day as usual. Maybe you should do the same.

The Awakening

It might happen that very morning or a day or two later. You could be discussing the dream with a fellow Summoned or perhaps you simply brush shoulders with them as you walk by. Whatever it is, as soon as you make brief physical contact, one of you is struck with a sharp pain in your temple that grows into a terrible headache. It's disorienting and painful as the world around you shifts to someplace you may or may not recognize. Like an old film reel, you watch the events of the past play out before you: the past of the other Summmoned. It might be something they would rather hide, a moment of failure or despair, or something they are immensely proud of and brings them great joy - or even a jumble of several images over the course of a person's life. But you see it as if it were real and right in front of you all the same. When you come to, you'll likely find yourself on the ground or bent over, possibly with one or more people around you to see if you're okay. It'll take you a bit to gather your bearings, and the subsequent pounding in your head could last from minutes to hours.

Or, maybe you aren't the one who receives the vision. Instead, as you watch, another Summoned might grasp their head and crumble in front of you. They may go silent or groan in pain. They'll be impossible to shake out of their stupor until it's over. If you ask what happened, they may be inclined to tell you the truth - that you, you were what happened to them.

Or, if your Arcana signs happen to line up in a specific way, you'll see each other in the shared memory itself. You may also find that for certain Summoned, you can help soothe the effects, calm their emotions, or help draw them out of the memory before it consumes them for too long. It's not entirely clear what determines which effect, but one thing is for certain - within each memory, every Summoned as they appear in the past seems to wear the mark of their Arcana somewhere on their person.

For some, they might experience this only once. For others, they might experience it multiple times: with the same person, with several other Summoned, or with a different memory each time. Over the next 7 days, you'll find the Summoned around you are all receiving a glimpse into each other's past, as if the Singularity has awoken an eye within each of you.

Flee for the safety of the Horizon if you want, but you'll find that in there, it's much the same. In fact, inside the Horizon, the other Summoned don't even need to be anywhere near you - just existing in the Horizon space itself together will be enough to possibly set off a headache-inducing vision.

The Factions

What has occurred between the Summoned will not go unnoticed within the factions. While it's difficult to say how faction officials have picked up what's happening, it'll be obvious they do know.

In THORNE, characters will be asked to remain in the castle walls until further notice. Characters will not be allowed to leave the castle grounds, not even to go into the surrounding city, and anyone who is already outside will be requested to not leave again as soon as they return. If asked, they will be told it's for their own safety, given the Singularity is behaving unpredictably and the Summoned have a unique connection to it. Soothing potions and healers are on hand to offer assistance, if anyone is particularly suffering from ill effects.

In the FREE CITIES, characters will find the army by the outposts show more activity than usual. A higher number of guards will patrol the streets throughout the event, particularly in areas frequented by the Summoned. Anyone who publicly and visibly experiences the effects of the memory share (pain, doubling over, etc.) will be offered assistance by the guards. They are generally there to help, but they are also there to maintain order and ensure anyone behaving erratically due to this incident is properly contained. This might include confinement for a day or two if anyone is especially posing a risk, but no one will be punished except in the most extreme cases, as the locals are aware this is not within the control of the Summoned.

In SOLVUNN, the locals will be watching what's happening with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity. Host families and neighbors will be on hand to help with charms meant to offer protection, as well as general care and assistance (soup, blankets, and so on) if your character seems to be especially under the weather or afflicted by the event. Towards the end of the event, more elders and mages will be out and about to check up on the Summoned to make sure they're doing okay. If asked, the mages will say they aren't sure what's going on, but that they are currently divining with the gods and hope to have a definitive answer soon in the upcoming days.

None of the factions appear to be doing much more than keep a watchful eye on the situation - but as the week comes to a close, officials will start making a decision as to what they want to do and how to handle the Summoned who have demonstrated this unforeseen connection to the Singularity.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ She doesn't ask any more questions. He's not really here with her anyway, she can tell, so what's the point? His feelings about this memory are clear without him saying anything, and no amount of clarified context is really going to help. What his feelings and expressions don't convey, younger Ciri's do.

It's not really about the woman or the demon or any of the rest of it. "Mine," he says, and the danger in his tone makes Julie shudder, because that's what it's really about. Something that's not specific to the world or the actual nature of the threat -- it's something that's hardwired into humans, all of them. That tone is how the human race survives no matter where they are. Because of that drive to protect what's theirs. Defend it.

When she opens her eyes, she sees the floors, the wood of the cabinets, and she dry heaves. Fuck, her head hurts. The clunk of Geralt's head hitting the counter makes her look, reach for him on instinct. ] Shit, you okay? Careful.

Edited 2022-04-26 23:54 (UTC)

[ His ears ring. It feels like hours have passed, but it must've been seconds, minutes. He reaches for her in return, brows drawn together. Everything tumbles—not only their little trip through his head, but hers. The piles of corpses.

She doesn't know it's what he saw. He doesn't yet bring it up. Part of him is still processing it—trying to separate it from the memories of his own childhood. ]

Yeah. What about you? [ They've both been better, he supposes, but he knows this is. New. For her. And he hadn't meant to send her delving into his memories, but as disorienting as it is, he's simply relieved she didn't see anything far worse. There are darker images living in his head than...that. Men after Ciri. He regrets a number of things in his life. Keeping Ciri safe no matter what has never been one of them.

He rises to his feet, offers Julie a hand to help her to hers. Some hesitation lingers—like it might spark another vision once again—but he's fairly certain it's over. For now, at least. He hasn't any idea how long this is meant to go on, if it can even stop. It's been one day and he's already fucking tired. ]

[ Likewise, there's a wary sort of reluctance to the way she takes his hand, but nothing happens this time. She feels like someone is banging the inside of her skull with a hammer. It's making her feel kind of sick.

As this is her first experience, it has not occurred to her that it can work in reverse, without her also being there, so she doesn't know that he's seen anything from her at all. If she did, she would apologize; as he can probably tell, much of what occupies her memory is truly horrifying, and no one should have to experience it. And honestly, she doesn't believe there's all that much she could have seen from him that would have made her ever view him differently. This woman has literally seen a man disemboweled with bare hands and teeth, watched people chop each other up with chainsaws, was present for the incredibly violent death of her now best friend. What could Geralt possibly have that's any worse? ]

I'm okay. [ A bit pale and discombobulated, perhaps, but fine. Her fingers tighten around his. ] How did you kill it? The demon?

[ His gaze is on her, a remaining hint of concern. He doesn't let go of her hand until he's sure she's steady on her feet. ] I didn't.

[ He sighs. It isn't directed at her. He stumbled out of a trip to hell with Dean not a scant few hours ago, knows Dean saw his own version of it when he was a child under the Trials; he's had a lifetime of practice pushing it all down and yet right now, even that doesn't feel enough. But at least this is something else to focus on, something that isn't rotting bodies and anguished screams, so that's what he does. ]

She went home. Rejoined her world. [ He uncorks the wine Julie offered when he first arrived. Fuck knows they could use it. ] I still don't understand all of it. [ He grows quiet. ] And Ciri will not tell me some things.

[ His memories go no further than that night. Whatever happened in the years afterwards, Ciri refuses to say. He suspects it is to do with him, that something happened to him because he can recall the look on her face when she laid eyes on him out in the dungeon yard. How she ran to him. As though they were parted for longer than days or even weeks. He just doesn't think it's worth forcing her to speak of it before she's ready. He's here with her, now. That's all that matters. ]

[ She reaches up, opens up a cabinet and pulls out glasses. Though she's moving slowly, it's not because of the headache or what she saw. She's just listening intently, thinking. Putting pieces together.

Demons come through monoliths and apparently sometimes get stuck. If the demon wanted to go home, then it figures that she couldn't get back through the monolith on her own. But why chase Ciri back to Kaer Morhen? Julie feels out of her depth trying to solve a puzzle like this, which has so many elements that are so incredibly unfamiliar to her. And she does distinctly get the feeling that, every time she learns something new about their world, that they wish she hadn't, let alone think more about it.

That gets pushed out of her mind easily, though, when Geralt's tone shifts, when he says that Ciri won't tell him things. Granted, her experience with telling people their future is... limited, but it didn't go particularly well. Placing the glasses down on the counter, she sighs and absently touches his shoulder. ]

It's not that simple, tellin' people what's gonna happen when you already know for sure. You probably don't wanna hear it. Anyway, you're here now. Who knows what that means for the future?

[ He leans forward on the counter, palms flat after he sets the bottle down. She has questions, he can tell, but even after all this time going over it in his head, he doesn't know what it means. What do the Wild Hunt want with Ciri? It was more than Voleth Meir wishing to return to her place with the Hunt. Daughter of Chaos. And where the fuck does Nilfgaard come into it? He was barely on the verge of answers back home; here, whatever path he'd started towards, it's gone. Or maybe it's simply grown much larger than any of them can comprehend. In the grand scheme of things, are the Wild Hunt little more than pawns alongside the Singularity?

Ciri is withholding pieces of the future from him, she is. He knows that. But where her powers are concerned, what the world may want from her, he isn't certain she understands, either. More than that, he gets the sense that some part of Ciri does not wish to understand. Not any longer. That she has already learned too much. He wants to help her. He can't decide if that means leaving things well enough alone or trying to unearth what none of them know is lurking. It isn't like him not to dig, but this is about Ciri, not him.

Julie's hand lands on his shoulder and some of the tension eases from him. She's never pried. He can appreciate that. Out of everyone he might've shared those images with, at least it was her and not a stranger. ]

Grand things, I'm sure. [ Yeah. They've a new future to make, as far as he can tell. He fills both glasses before he looks up at her. What he glimpsed feels more private, more intimate, than what she witnessed from him in return, if only because she was entirely alone for all of it. He has no intention of making her speak of it—but she should know. That he did see it. ] I received a vision from you, too. The towns of the dead.

[ Nadine has, thus far, been unable to accept what Julie already knows happens to her. Has seen with her own eyes. Instead, Nadine insists it happened (happens?) to a different person, someone who isn't her, and in some ways, maybe that's true. The Nadine Julie knows here is nothing like the one she met in Vegas, already pregnant and somewhat disconnected from reality. They'd all been disconnected, Julie realizes now. But if Ciri is hiding things, they must be at least as bad as what Julie now wishes she had hidden from Nadine.

He mentions the dead, the aftermath of Captain Trips, and she freezes, her breath catching. It's not something she ever thinks about -- even when she has told others about what she went through, she brushes over what it was really like. There is no way to make people understand what that world is, where you're the only living being for hundreds of miles. Where the bodies just fester openly and there's nothing you can do about the sight or the smell or the germs, because they outnumber you by thousands. ]

I'm sorry. [ It's the only thing she can think to say, her voice small. How can you apologize for making someone else suffer through that? No one else should have to see it. ] I -- I'm sorry.

[ Her reaction makes him pause. Geralt places his hand on her arm. ] It isn't your fault.

[ He's sorry, too. For what happened back then, or maybe for seeing it uninvited. He knows, of course. She's told him. It isn't the same. Geralt has told her things he's not told many others, but it'd still be...different, if she actually saw it. Experienced it. The things he went through. No one needs to see that, either. One or two have, and he isn't sure how he feels about it.

His expression flickers. Funny, that it's the rotting heat which make it a little easier to pull apart the memories from his own. The corpses never rotted in the snow. Even summers never grew particularly hot in the mountains. ]

I'm glad you aren't there anymore. [ It isn't something he'd say to many, but it rings true. Some worlds are not meant to be lived in, and hers is one of them. Maybe it isn't fair, as she said. That so much suffering had to befall her and the world to end up here. Maybe it isn't fair that she is here and others were never afforded the chance. He doesn't know. He only knows that on the smallest of scales, where Nadine and Julie are concerned (where the people he cares about are concerned)—it's...they don't deserve to be trapped on a dead sphere, haunted by corpses and demons. ]

[ She looks at his hand. She knows it's not her fault, because she would never willingly subject anyone to her world, not after that final spring. There are other things in her head that would have worse for him to see, she knows that, but there are things that would have been better, too, and she doesn't understand why it couldn't have been one of those. She has happy memories, she knows she does. Why is that what it had to be, more bodies for someone who already has more than his fair share of them?

And on top of that, it hurts because now she is forced to open that box for herself, remember the things that she has spent so long ignoring, letting their sharpness fade until it's bearable. Those jagged edges come roaring back in an instant -- her initial determination to find other survivors, how it diminished room by room. The way the dread settled in the pit of her stomach and grew, fed on every failure, every new body, until that's all there was all there was room for. Fear and desperation. Loneliness that dragged her so deep, she began to swim down because it was easier.

His palm is warm, like it always is, and she shifts slightly, moves so that she can curl her fingers around his. When she speaks, it's soft. ]

I'm glad I met you.

So am I. [ Some of that aching loneliness he felt inside her memories lingers with him. How deeply it burrowed, wrapped up in even deeper layers of fear. For a moment, he's silent. What else is there to say? Julie doesn't need to linger any more on the images of her past than she already has. And Geralt has never quite made it a secret how far he would go for Ciri. Perhaps the only difference is in this world, Julie has not seen him have a need to. Not yet. Not like that.

He picks up the glass of wine. With their memories crossed between them, he no longer feels the urgent need to leave. Maybe it's for the best. Can it even be avoided? If there's anything he's learned about the Singularity, it's that it comes for you whether you want it or not. Between the strange magic bestowed upon them, the Horizon, that tether that links them, the words scrawled across surfaces—it's present in a way that can't be ignored. ]

Come on. [ He tips his head towards her couch. ] Not sure I want to see anyone else today.

[ Three sets of shit memories is more than plenty. His head hasn't stopped hurting all day. The pieces of his past are one thing, but it reminds him of his time in Thorne, too, memories being plucked against his will and dragged to the forefront. All around, not fun. ]

[ He doesn't need to say anything else. If anyone had to see it, she's as satisfied as she can be that it was the one she trusts most. Someone who has seen enough pain of their own that it wouldn't change their mind about her. With the exception of Nadine, Geralt is the only person in Abraxas that Julie truly believes won't throw her away over her baggage.

And, though she knows he never judged her for it, maybe now he understands just how little choice she had to follow Flagg's call. What else could she have done?

She takes the other glass and follows him to the sofa, sits facing him with her legs curled up and her head resting on the back of the couch. ]

Nadine won't be home until the afternoon. [ Sipping from her glass, her brow knits. This whole thing is so bizarre, and terrifying because it doesn't seem like something that's sustainable for more than a day. But nor does it seem like something they can force an ending to. ] You think this happened because of the dream?

[ He sinks into her couch. Frankly, he's tired of this world fucking with their memories. Between losing them in the Horizon, the queen, the flood of memories that one night, now this—he likes what's in his head to stay in one place.

And yeah. That dream. He shakes his head. ] No. A sign, I'd say. Of what disturbed the Singularity.

[ The eclipse that day—what does it mean? He looks over at her. She's the only one he knows who spends much of her time with her magic and inside her domain. Sam had mentioned in passing feeling off not long ago, but Geralt had thought little of it. Magic is never completely stable, in his experience. Especially for someone who's never used it before until now. Besides, that was some weeks ago. ]

Did you feel anything unusual? Last night maybe? With your magic or the Horizon.

[ Julie is usually pretty neutral on the memory thing -- the first visit to the Horizon is a trade-off, and she can live with that. The queen's exercise was an independent act. But this, to affect all of them, seemingly by something greater than the Singularity itself? Or else... the Singularity wants this to happen. But Julie has never really believed it's capable of that kind of thought.

She knits her brow thoughtfully, then slowly shakes her head. While she'll have more to say about this later, as of this moment, she hasn't been to the Horizon to feel the change there. And nothing had seemed different last night or in recent memory. ] Nothin' I can think of. Everythin' seemed pretty normal.

[ Or at least as normal as things ever are. She hasn't had a truly normal night in over two years.

Frowning, she takes a sip from her glass. ] Who else have you been through this with?

[ He doesn't believe the Singularity can want things, either. It's living, he thinks, as a tree can be considered living, but not much more than that. But its connection to all of them has seemingly caused something to unsettle it. They're the only ones this has happened to. No one else in this damn sphere wakes up with unasked magic or memories of a future they didn't yet live through and yet did.

Though he still thinks the latter is more to do with Ciri than the Singularity. At the end of the day, it's only a powerful source of magic, not an entity. (Isn't it?)

His last visit into the Horizon was two weeks ago. More. And he makes little use of magic outside his Signs. If something changed recently, he wouldn't be able to say for himself. ]

Two others. [ One of them, he isn't sure Julie is familiar, but the other— ] Before I came to find you, I was with Dean. They both saw...pieces. Of the Trials.

[ If he'd not been right next to Julie, he'd be afraid she saw the same. At least she was spared that. ]

[ While she does have some thoughts about the nature of the Singularity, Julie tends to keep them quiet. She considers herself unqualified to really speculate on it, but then again, no one else seems to feel the Singularity like she does. It's not anything she understands, she hasn't a clue why her connection appears to be so much different than everyone else's. But people who know far more about magic than she does appear to be stumped. They can't explain why the Horizon just does things for her, why she can simply sense it when others can't.

She prefers not to really think about what it might all mean.

For a moment, she's quiet. She can't imagine how difficult it must be to relive that, twice. She's glad that she didn't have to walk through Pratt with him, even though she hates that he saw it at all. But going through it again might very well be more than she can take. Reaching out with her free arm, she puts her hand on his shoulder. ]

You know there's nothin' I could see that will make me think different of you, right?

[ He didn't enter his own, at least. But he entered theirs and both were so close to the visions that have followed him from his childhood, he may as well have. It feels as though their memories have been layered onto his. Like a relentless echo.

He peers into his glass. ] I know. [ He's quiet, too. He will not pretend he's only killed for Ciri or that he has any hesitation over doing so. He doesn't think Julie will look at him different for that—though it means something to him, to hear her say it. (He's used to the wariness people show around him, but she's never been so with him.) ] I'd just, not want you to go through seeing it. Some of those things.

[ They're buried so deep, from so long ago, he isn't certain how much he retains or if his memories are even accurate anymore. They come and go in broken shards. He recalls the most when he dreams, finds images flooding him with a sharpness when he smells a certain acrid mix of herbs, and remembers more than anything the pitch darkness and the burning taste of his own poisoned blood. Is it better or worse, that he shared those memories with people who have been through similar?

Maybe that's a worthless question. Nothing about this feels better or worse. It's shit all throughout. ]

[ No, she doesn't think it matters. Everyone has things they hide in their own minds, and a uniting thread that binds the Summoned seems to be that they have worse memories than most. That their lives were universally difficult and full of heavily traumatic shit. It makes sense, that they would find echoes of each other within those recollections. It's insane that they're being forced to go through this at all, but really, it might be even more difficult to watch someone live a charmed life they never got a shot at.

She hums, takes another drink and then places her glass on the end table. She figures that, if she stays away from everyone else after he leaves, this can be a one-and-done experience. It feels safe to start locking the memories back in their boxes, to not have to deal with them. They have to stay there if she's to continue being a functional person.

Her legs stretch and she prods the side of his thigh with her toes. ] Well, I didn't, so it's okay. But do I have to try and kill Ciri to get you to do that voice again? 'Cause that seems like a lotta effort.

[ He's still a bit lost in thought, still doing his own work putting his memories away in their boxes, when she pokes him with her foot. He looks over, his eyebrows going up. Oh. Hm.

Shitty visions and head pain aside, it is a strange fucking thing to. See himself. Almost through the eyes of another and yet not. More so because Geralt lives in a world where recordings do not commonly exist, not even photographs. The only time he ever sees himself is in a reflection. It's unsettling, in several ways. Mostly, he's trying not to linger on it. Or on much of anything. It was not that long ago, he even knew about these memories in the first place. Ciri and Yennefer, all of it. Revisiting those moments—it only reminds him of how easily things change. (How easily things are lost.) In an instant.

So he takes Julie's change in topic; imagines she wants to not think about much, either. Besides, they could stand to pass the time while they're holed up inside.

He makes a small thoughtful sound. Downs his wine in one go and sets his glass aside, his hand curling around her leg. ] You could threaten me instead. I'm an easier target.

[ It's definitely not strange to Julie to see herself from the outside. She used to spend hours and hours just staring into her phone camera at herself. If anything, she'll just pleased with being even hotter than she thought -- cameras do add ten pounds and highlight the flaws. But she's really hoping that she'll get lucky, won't have to be present for any of these other unfortunate exchanges that may befall her. She can handle other people's memories, but not her own.

Slowly pulling her leg back toward herself, she catches his wrist with a chuckle, tugs him to her. ]

Well, she is scarier'n you by a mile. But I wouldn't threaten you. [ She leans back into the arm of the couch, fingers pressing into his arm. ] I could just lure you in instead.

[ He lets her pull him in, settling atop with one hand holding his weight. His eyes catch hers. Her hair's bright pink out here, not the bare hint of blush he'd seen in her memories. He tucks a lock of it behind her ear.

It suits her. All the colour and magic she never had in a decaying world. He wonders how many others no longer wish to return home. Even without Ciri—he's put down roots here he never meant to, grown close to people in a place that he'd once thought temporary.

It was simpler when he was alone. But he can't say he wants to go back to that, either. Having no one at his side. ]

Oh, a lure. [ A small smile tilts his lips. She needn't lure him into anything. Never really had. ] And what lures a Witcher?

[ Without thinking about it, she tilts her head to his hand, looks up at him with lowered eyelids. For as difficult as being in Abraxas has been, for the lack of choice she actually has in making this world her home, she is happier here than she ever was in her own world. Even at the best points of her life before, Julie had very little agency, very little choice in the people she could surround herself with. She'd known the same people her entire life, and many of them were related to her. By the time she found freedom to meet new people, the pickings were so slim that it was enough to just not be assaulted.

And, though the Summoned are a smaller group than either Pratt or Vegas, she feels a greater freedom than she ever had before, to choose who's important, who she spends her time with. She doesn't feel powerless anymore, even though she knows she's at the whims of the Singularity and the native Abraxans. The panicked, desperate girl who was kicking doors open in Kansas, who fell apart on her kitchen floor after her parents died -- she doesn't really exist anymore. She doesn't have to. Only in those painful memories does she linger, and only when those are triggered down she try to return. Even in Vegas, she'd had free reign under the sparkly dresses, the makeup. It was necessary, living somewhere that a single wrong move could end your life. But not anymore.

However unintentionally, Geralt was responsible for a lot of it. They stumbled across each other at the worst point of her life (turns out that being killed, then resurrected only to immediately be thrown in a medieval dungeon is somehow even worse than living through a plague), and he was the first person from outside of her own world who she befriended. Who made her feel any sort of comfortable someplace so foreign. ]

Monsters, of course. [ She says it airily, like it's obvious. Running her hands down his chest, she absently pulls his shirt loose, slides her fingers under it. ] But in my world, we had plants that were basically little monsters. Venus flytraps, they look like little open mouths. They smelled sweet to insects, drew 'em in with flowers. When the bugs landed, the mouth would snap shut before the bug could ever get away. No threats needed.

[ It strikes him now and again, when he reflects on when they met—because how many of them remain who remember it, being trapped in the dungeons? Julie, scant others he can count on one hand. The number dwindles further when it comes to the first of them, who arrived locked away at the very start. More and more, he senses that part of their beginnings waning into rumours and stories. He supposes he should be familiar with that. Time wears down all things. It happened so quickly, though. Within months, barely a year. He feels it, deep down inside: an unconscious drifting towards the handful left who remember, a kinship he can't help grasping onto. It isn't quite the same thing, but it just—it reminds him of the way his own kind would fade and fade. In the world, in the memories of others.

But a few of them are here. The people most important to him remain. It means something to him, that Julie trusted him—him, Sam, everyone—enough to travel all that way to where they were in Cadens. ]

Of course. [ Monsters. A classic. Every Witcher loves good beast to hunt; what else are they made to do? He wraps his fingers around her wrist and guides it a little further up his chest. The quietest sound escapes him, something that passes for a laugh. ] Julie. Are you calling me a bug?

[ He will not deny she smells plenty sweet—does not hesitate to lean down and breath in the scent that he's grown more than familiar with. If she's here to snap him up, he can't say he minds. ]

[ She finds it harder and harder to trust the newer Summoned, the ones who not only came after those initial few months, but came so much later that they haven't even heard what happened secondhand. Julie met more of them than she'd thought existed at the Summit, and their steadfast refusal to listen to her was beyond aggravating. It also unnerves her that so many of the remaining Summoned from those first two groups are those that the crown had welcomed -- ones who know what they went through, but never experienced it and so tend not to care. What does that mean? That the imprisoned really were mistakes? Does that mean that she's doomed to be sent back to nothingness soon?

She tries not to think about it. Tries to push it out of her mind with other justifications. If she was a mistake, then surely she wouldn't have so much natural power in this world. She wouldn't have such special control over the Horizon's magic. That all has to mean something too.

Desperately, she needs it to mean something.

Fingers splayed, she presses her palm where he put it, where the too-slow thrum of his heart vibrates into her hand. She blinks up at him, caught off-guard by what he says, then laughs hard enough that she has to turn her head for a moment. ]

No! Venus flytraps are small plants, of course they catch bugs. Nothin' bothers catchin' a meal that's impossible to eat. [ She shifts, hooks her legs around his like vines and tightens them. ] I'm a hell of a lot bigger than a potted plant, though. Big enough to catch a wolf.

[ Geralt's history means there's only one understanding of mistake that he has and it's one that suggests Thorne believed them a threat of some sort that needed to be contained, suppressed. But that doesn't quite account for them all—and it equally implies Thorne knows about Ciri, or...what. Sensed her power? Somehow? Found her a concern?

He isn't sure. It troubles him, too. Opens up more questions than answers. Too much speculation will drive anyone fucking mad. What he can say is, of the welcomed guests who remain now, only a sparse few ever set foot alongside the prisoners. Sam, Jaskier, Nadine. The others—he can't recall seeing them near the cells, some whose faces he never once glimpsed until that day by the portals. And that tells him all he needs to know.

Her laugh draws a hint of a wider smile out of him. He shifts atop her. ] You sound certain you can hold a wolf.

[ Her legs wind around him; he cups her cheek, runs his thumb along it. Leans in to kiss her. Some mild concern lingers that another episode might trigger, but he spent a time with Sephiroth in the aftermath, a couple hours further drinking with Dean and nothing flashed through again in either case. He anticipates no different now. ]

Edited 2022-05-10 02:35 (UTC)

[ Well, they were told they committed crimes, so it would only make sense for Thorne to consider them a threat. And it might track in some ways that they can detect power; of the original Vegas group, two of the four were imprisoned. And Flagg is a massively powerful being, but more interestingly, Julie, without ever knowing it, also turned out to have unexpectedly strong magical abilities. But no, there are certainly others on both sides of that divide that would seemingly go against the theory.

It makes Julie ever more certain that the native Abraxans have no idea what they're doing, the havoc they're inviting on themselves. Already, they've drawn in some frighteningly powerful folks, from what Julie can tell -- people who could easily put their minds together and turn on the inhabitants of this world.

Then again, she's not sure she wouldn't prefer that one of the Summoned were in power. ]

Oh, I'm very certain. [ She murmurs before she arches her neck to meet his mouth, grabbing the back of his head. As far as she can tell, if she's the third person he's swapped memories with, and the other two didn't get an encore, she shouldn't be the exception. Although, honestly, with her luck, it's definitely not a foolproof bet. Her calves tighten around his sides as her toes curls, and she bites at his lip. ] I can trap a wolf before he even knows what hit 'im.

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