[He snorts. Oh, what do you know. The guy got a laugh out of him.] Deadly to your average cattle farmer, sure.
[Still not much of a fight to him. One swing of a sword (shit, he really needs to get a sword, huh?) and the thing's dead. Then what's he got? A giant dead goat. It's not really impressing anyone, and -- wait, do people around here even eat goats? Fuck. He should ask.
He does look to the board, and it's cool and all -- the first of its kind he's really seen besides the notes Nico loves writing, actually -- but it's not like, the real thing. It doesn't have weight. A picture's a picture.
Nero turns back to Geralt to the guy cupping his hands, and for a second he's about to make a joke -- you gonna bum off me already? Don't think you need to pay for drinks here -- until what looks like a fucked up centipede appears over his hands.]
Whoa! Hey, check that little guy out. [He laughs. There's something sort of hilarious about it. Of course Geralt's not fighting something this fucking size, but -- now he's kind of imagining it. Aw, look. It's even got fucked up human-looking arms. Nico would love it.]
I got a friend who'd be gnawing at the bit to pawn off one of those mandibles. Kinda reminds me of home.
[Can he create? He's. Been practicing. Sort of. Once V's book dropped out of nowhere and landed on the phone booth, Nero did want to figure out what was making this shit happen. Like. Yeah, he missed home, but that couldn't be it. (Yeah, he was haunted by that book. Maybe Shadow, too.) If what he missed just appeared, then where was Kyrie?
(Nothing could be her except the real deal.)
But he'd made other things. The Red Queen. An honest-to-god replica of the girl, beautiful and sharp and roaring like a tiger.
Nero lays out a hand and gives his offering: out of a puff of smoke stalks a nasty-looking empusa queen, raising a distinctly skull-like face to give a small, piercing screech. The boils of blood in its bloated abdomen light up like Christmas lights as it makes a lunge for Geralt's little beastie -- but hits a similar invisible wall, which it scratches at desperately.] Not bad, huh? [For the creating, he means.] Must be a family resemblance. [The joke comes out a little edged.] It's always bugs. Why's so many things gotta look like bugs?
[It's not that he's creeped out by them -- he isn't -- but where's the variety? The inspiration? At least half the damn underworld's gotta be teeming with bugs at this point. And lizards.]
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[Still not much of a fight to him. One swing of a sword (shit, he really needs to get a sword, huh?) and the thing's dead. Then what's he got? A giant dead goat. It's not really impressing anyone, and -- wait, do people around here even eat goats? Fuck. He should ask.
He does look to the board, and it's cool and all -- the first of its kind he's really seen besides the notes Nico loves writing, actually -- but it's not like, the real thing. It doesn't have weight. A picture's a picture.
Nero turns back to Geralt to the guy cupping his hands, and for a second he's about to make a joke -- you gonna bum off me already? Don't think you need to pay for drinks here -- until what looks like a fucked up centipede appears over his hands.]
Whoa! Hey, check that little guy out. [He laughs. There's something sort of hilarious about it. Of course Geralt's not fighting something this fucking size, but -- now he's kind of imagining it. Aw, look. It's even got fucked up human-looking arms. Nico would love it.]
I got a friend who'd be gnawing at the bit to pawn off one of those mandibles. Kinda reminds me of home.
[Can he create? He's. Been practicing. Sort of. Once V's book dropped out of nowhere and landed on the phone booth, Nero did want to figure out what was making this shit happen. Like. Yeah, he missed home, but that couldn't be it. (Yeah, he was haunted by that book. Maybe Shadow, too.) If what he missed just appeared, then where was Kyrie?
(Nothing could be her except the real deal.)
But he'd made other things. The Red Queen. An honest-to-god replica of the girl, beautiful and sharp and roaring like a tiger.
Nero lays out a hand and gives his offering: out of a puff of smoke stalks a nasty-looking empusa queen, raising a distinctly skull-like face to give a small, piercing screech. The boils of blood in its bloated abdomen light up like Christmas lights as it makes a lunge for Geralt's little beastie -- but hits a similar invisible wall, which it scratches at desperately.] Not bad, huh? [For the creating, he means.] Must be a family resemblance. [The joke comes out a little edged.] It's always bugs. Why's so many things gotta look like bugs?
[It's not that he's creeped out by them -- he isn't -- but where's the variety? The inspiration? At least half the damn underworld's gotta be teeming with bugs at this point. And lizards.]