abraxaslogs | [ open ] HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMERICA (not you abraxas)

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[ open ] HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMERICA (not you abraxas)

Who: Julie + Dean + open
When: July 4
Where: Julie's club in the Horizon
What: June sucked, it's time to party patriotically 🇺🇸 Dean's invite here 🇺🇸 no, the Americans don't care that it's not America, they're doing it anyway (just like real life)

[ Approaching Julie's club on this particular day, you can tell from the outside that something is going on. The pink neon has been swapped for red, white and blue, the pink carpet and velvet ropes changed to the good ol' stars and stripes. The front doors are wreathed in an enormous and very patriotic balloon arch, and they're wide open. American flags hang across the walls of the entranceway, and the music is what most Americans would recognize as July 4th standards.

Inside, Julie has obviously been incredibly hard at work, and the club has undergone its most massive changes to date. The entire first floor has been modified -- where there was once a dance floor and seating, there is now an Olympic-sized in-ground pool, dotted with a variety of American themed floats and balls. The glittering quartz flooring is all gone, now replaced with lush lawn grass, and sensible concrete wrapped around the pool itself. At one end, a truly enormous inflatable water slide can send you flying down from fifty feet in the air, just to land with a splash in the water.

How has she managed that height? Well, where there's ordinarily a roof, there is now only open sky, blue and picturesque with puffy white clouds lazily floating by. The sun is bright but never too hot, and incapable of burning anyone's skin. The only thing between the sky and the building are dozens of red, white and blue decorations, strung from the balconies to overhang the pool.

Don't worry if you weren't exactly prepared for a pool party! Julie, queen of not only parties but also wardrobes, has helpfully converted the warehouse part of the building for this very problem. Racks and racks of bathing suits and beach towels are available for use, with every conceivable style up for grabs. Trunks, one-pieces, string bikinis, banana hammocks, she's got it all! While many match the red, white and blue theme, all types of colors and patterns are present. Grab a towel from a stack, hop in one of the striped changing cabanas, then get to swimming. Don't forget your red, white or blue flip-flops and sunglasses!

Hungry? Well, Dean has you covered. On the lawn, Julie has provided him with a wet dream-inducing grill and every imaginable kind of meat to cook on it. Also in this section are tables and tables full of snacks, desserts and drinks, along with the full bar that is always present. The bartender, Steven, is always ready to make anything you could want. (He is dressed in what is best described as "Sexy Uncle Sam" -- in that it's a star-spangled wrestling singlet, a glittery red white and blue bow tie, an Uncle Sam hat and a small, fake white beard.) Plenty of picnic tables are present to eat at.

As the afternoon passes, the sky will gradually darken until it's black and clear, with a wide expanse of stars, the way Julie remembers seeing night from the empty prairies of Kansas. Between Dean and Julie, there is no shortage of fireworks; as proud Americans raised in places where there's little else to do, they are experts at blowing shit up in creative ways. The tables disappear and are replaced with blankets on the grass, meant to be laid on and shared. An incredible fireworks show rounds the night out, and only once the sky is calm again are people expected to leave.

Or pass out. Getting completely wasted is also an Independence Day tradition. ]

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[ Geralt only looks back. What thoughts he has on the matter—or on the man's character—he doesn't care to hide. He isn't searching for an explanation, no. The politics of another world isn't his business. And he needn't ask to know it will amount to the same thing. All that ever changes are the details. Names, places. The particulars of what drove them to conflict.

After a second, he looks away again. He hums. He hears that note of weariness, though he makes no remark. They're all tired. Can't walk two feet without running into someone fucking exhausted by shit. ] War always leads to more of it.

[ Not that he's casting stones in glass houses. That isn't what he means. Where people gather, they'll always find a reason to spill blood. He's no stranger to killing—to protect himself. Others. Someone he loves. But he's under no illusion it solves a damn thing. That it means anything more than a choice to survive.

Anyhow. He's only here to drink tonight. They can philosophize another time. ]

Oh, a warning. [ His lips curl, wry. Like there's a joke his companion isn't aware of. ] That's more than others have granted us.

[ There's something in the way he says us instead of me. ]

So I've noticed.

[ And the more people involved, the more likely it is to keep happening. Instability in Fodlan, instability in Abraxas: all of it aligns too closely and with a sigh he sets his fork down to abandon the pretense of eating. The wolf might be getting a bonus plate here shortly.

Claude had meant the statue line as a joke in assuming thanks to those unlimited creation powers they all have here some reasonable facsimile of one might be created just to prank him and that'd be the end of it. As he'd stopped thinking it through any further past trying to pull the conversation back to something lighter he's not prepared for the response he gets and it has him shifting his gaze back to the man, curiosity present again. He contemplates those words, takes a moment to parse through the choice of words, then raises an eyebrow. ]

Us as in 'the last time statues suddenly wandered through the Horizon out of nowhere' to go with everything else that's happened or us from some other time before that?

[ Probably not his business, much like anything else he's asked about recently, but as the saying goes: nothing ventured, nothing gained. ]

[ The moment the plate is set down and left alone, the wolf will snap it up. If his companion seems affected by the conversation, Geralt appears the opposite—unfazed, as always, by whatever topic is at hand. It's less that he doesn't give a shit and more that he's in a perpetual state of weariness.

Surprisingly, folk have pulled few pranks in the Horizon. An unspoken understanding seems to exist, even among the more egregious of them, to not fuck with each other's spaces. As far as he can tell, anyhow. Perhaps it's just his space people have avoided fucking with. ]

Before. [ It's a simple reply, but not meant to be evasive. Not much to add, that's all. Things are what they are.

A beat, and then Geralt offers the man the bottle. ] You have a name? So I know to whom I'm delivering the statues.

[ He's joking. Probably. ]

[ Before is a final enough answer, a door quietly being closed, and one Claude can respect. It's probably the sort of thing to be shared later, if there is one - and gods know he has plenty of things that qualify as much later - so he'll just nod and watch the wolf enjoy its latest snacks.

Until the bottle is held out to him, and he glances at it first and then the other man before taking it. He studies it and any labels if they exist while he runs through a familiar internal debate at top speed: this is the Horizon, so it's not likely to be poisoned. Not to mention he's watched the other drink out of it several times so that more than qualifies it as safe - who poisons themselves? Other than Claude, for specific purposes, but that's neither here nor there. Good enough.

Claude takes a drink and hands it back to its owner, then pauses when he's spoken to. ]

This is where I wish I had a fake name at the ready to give you just to ward off any sudden mysterious gifts, isn't it?

[ Now it'll be a lot clearer he's kidding with a wide grin stretching across his face, both because he did pick up on that joke (please let it be a joke) and because he has a long running private inside one with himself over fake names and their usage. ]

Claude von Riegan. If handshakes are common where you're from we can do that, but I'm still working on remembering they're a thing. It's nice to meet you, and you are...?

[ It's poison if one qualifies the strength of the alcohol as poison. Otherwise, no. Just straight vodka, though Geralt appears to be drinking it like water. It grants a pleasant buzz that lightens some of the weight on his mind. For tonight, anyway. ]

You could still make an attempt. [ Though names mean nothing here, false or no. They're no longer of their worlds. This place, it's as close to starting over as one can get. Perhaps not preferable to some, but for Geralt, it's nice. It's good. It lets him shed centuries of baggage about his kind.

Handshakes are not ubiquitous, but they aren't foreign to him. Depends on the region. Claude appears to be unfamiliar with the concept, so he decides not to bother.

That name, though. Sounds almost Nilfgaardian. Interesting. ]

Geralt of Rivia.

Oh? It's not too late to back out on giving out that name after all?

[ That grin settles into something more like a mix between a smile and a smirk. There's not much of a reason to not go by his actual name here - save anyone from home showing up, there'd be a lot to explain then - but Claude's comfortable enough remaining who he's been for his entire adult life. Plus, it doesn't hurt to keep that extra layer between the outside world and himself. Less to worry about that way.

Geralt's rather simple introduction gets a slightly raised eyebrow from him. There's a lot to be inquisitive about even in so few words. ]

Are locations used as surnames where you're from then? [ Now his curiosity is more about the other man's world itself, less about Geralt specifically. For now. ] Or is a title of knighthood?

Our surnames tend to either be a family name, usually the House your father's from, though there's several last names that aren't house specific too. Where you're from also varies how it get stylized since in the Alliance we had naming conventions from both the Empire and the Kingdom. Though if you're a knight, you're usually introduced as something like Ignatz Victor of House Gloucester, for example.

[ Full of questions and comments, isn't he? Geralt appears not to mind, even if the curiosity is received without enthusiasm or encouragement. If Claude wants to chatter, he can. Geralt prefers to listen.

He inclines his head. ] Depends. Region and race play a part. Elves rarely retain a surname. Or if they do, they don't speak of it to outsiders. Humans who use a place of origin often have no family lineage they care to preserve, but this isn't always true.

[ As for him, it's a matter of convenience. He is not from Rivia, a fact he rarely mentions because it isn't relevant. For a Witcher, a name is just a name. They don't carry their history in their names. That lives in what they are. But humans like to have a sense of knowing who they're hiring, even if it's an illusion, and so. A surname, chosen without significance.

In either case, those who live on the Continent now only established themselves, their lands, not two thousand years ago. Fought to claim their lands, he should say. Much of those years were in chaos. It means things such as names and conventions and rules—they're inconsistent at best. ]

Region playing a part certainly sounds like what I know since that's more or less what drives what I'd mentioned with the former nations. Unfortunately I don't know much about the other countries there as there hasn't been much communication, trade, or travel for a very long time. Hopefully that will change as borders become more open though that'll be a gradual process.

[ Something he hopes is still taking place in his absence though all the right strides were being made towards it. And though Claude had been distracted with of course going down yet another tangent, he hasn't forgotten one thing in that small amount of information he'd temporarily set aside while contemplating names. ]

You mentioned elves separately from humans so I take it they're not one and the same, but I don't believe elves or any tales of them exist in Fodlan. Unless we have a different name for them, which I suppose is possible.

[ Claude's not unfamiliar with the concept of more than just humans existing given his own discovering of this before being brought to Abraxas. Talking with others about in what's in their own worlds only served to broaden his horizons that much further - not to mention meeting them here. And then there's also their brief discussion of defeated still hanging around in his mind, too. ]

You grew up behind borders? [ Hm. Geralt's often thought about how it is to be, what. Trapped? In a sense. To have never set foot outside your borders. The Continent isn't always open—goes through periods of shifting territories, ever-changing lines on maps—but he's a Witcher. He belongs to no nation, is expected to have no loyalty to anyone but himself. As long as the gates open for him, he can go where he likes.

And if they don't, he moves on. Simple.

Things are different here. It's the one aspect he'll never be used to. That his decision to reside in the Free Cities means most of the natives in this world see him as of the territory. Which is hardly the case. ]

They occasionally go by other names. [ The elezen, as Himeka refers to them. ] On the Continent, they call themselves the Aen Seidhe. Humans rather fucked them over, so. Few groups remain.

[ It's said matter-of-factly. Humans are what they are. And the Continent's history is long and bloody. He isn't unsympathetic to the elves, especially doesn't care to defend the humans. But at the same time, what else is new? ]

Well, yes and no. [ That's a question he thinks about for a solid pause, mostly to find a way to summarize it without dumping a(nother) history text on Geralt. An attempt is made. ] Fodlan the continent is surrounded by seas on all sides and the closest countries - besides the lone one it shares a border with - are all a decently long journey by ship away. When Fodlan separated into three countries over time, each was governed separately but none had borders that you couldn't pass through relatively freely. Even then, extended travel was usually only possible for merchants or nobility. And there also were... other powers at play besides just the ruling ones, and those were responsible for limiting what I'm sure they called outside influences.

[ That's as succinct as he can get to explain unless Geralt has further questions. But, he thinks to himself with a faint smile, the other man strikes him as someone who asks questions mostly when necessary. ]

So our travel and communication being limited here? Not entirely unfamiliar to me either. It's a good thing we have ways to still exchange information outside of the usual ways.

[ The other name Geralt provides for the elves doesn't really give Claude any more context - but the following explanation? That does. And the sentiment he thinks he hears in the other's voice is a familiar one, because for all that Claude believes in people as a whole: they can also be the absolute worst without even batting an eye. ]

That doesn't really ring a bell for me either, unfortunately. There's sort of a comparison to an ancient civilization that once existed before Fodlan was even called Fodlan. Very few of them remain today, though that wasn't known until recently for a lot of reasons.

[ So effectively what's occurred here in Abraxas. He understands that about the continents—he's met those from worlds where they travel across continents—but like Claude, vast oceans separate the piece of land they are on, oceans that take months to cross. Other continents exist. But he's never been there. The travel is too difficult. There's a reason they refer to their world as simply The Continent. It is the only one they know and the only one upon which the politics matter. Everything else is too far away to matter. ]

I shouldn't expect so. [ If it did ring familiar, the implications would be...fuck, he doesn't even know. A headache. It would suggest that the elves crashed upon another world during the Conjunction.

Not known, huh. That sounds about how things go. When is history not buried beneath the weight of its bodies? ]

It matters little. [ Ancient civilizations from home, he means. They're here. These problems, these politics, of their world—it isn't in the past exactly, but. There isn't anything to be done about it while they're trapped elsewhere. Not that he had any inclination to do something in the first place. People will always find a war to fight. ] We've a large magic rock to contend with now.

[ It's true: none of it really matters at this point. They aren't in their home worlds, don't even know what's happening there in their absences; it's unlikely the past from any of them will assist with much here. Keeping his eyes trained on the future alone is nothing new so it seems like it'll serve him well here. Geralt's last comment gets a slight snort of a laugh from Claude. ]

Ah, yes, the magic rock blessing us all with its ever looming presence. I've gotta say dealing with this one is something else entirely new for me on top of everything else beyond new about Abraxas.

[ That shakes another thought in loose association loose from the corner of his mind. It's not difficult to recall the scene of Geralt rushing in with someone else he still doesn't know but who had clearly been injured - they both had, from the looks of it. And, well. There's still lots of questions he'd like to ask surrounding that event and possibly even more so since Mag seem more concerned about them as people than just the injuries alone. In the kind of way that reminds him, slightly, of a battlefield where you get used to seeing wounds of all kinds and have to remember they shouldn't be normal when those injuries compound and escalate. Geralt's fortunate to get a few moments of peace while Claude sorts through what it is he wants to ask with the tidbits of information he'd gleaned in mind. ]

Do you often head out into the desert to... do whatever it is you do? [ Well. That's one way to ask it. If Geralt looks his way, he'll wave a hand in an abstract gesture as if to say he's not asking for specifics - generalities will work just fine. ] I noticed you had a sword on your back even if it wasn't in a noticeable scabbard. I've seen some mercenaries carry them that way while blending in as merchants.

[ Yeah. Not as new for him, unfortunately. He lets that pass by without comment. Takes the moments of peace as they come, though the truth is, he's long grown used to constant chattering.—even before Jaskier came along. Growing up with that many brothers leaves little room for quiet.

He can't be surprised that Claude has circled around to their first topic. The man's clearly curious. Geralt does not look over, instead just watching a few people splash into the pool. He's no desire to explain what he was doing in the desert that time in particular.

His usual work, though? That's a simple enough topic. ]

I'm not a mercenary. [ And he isn't trying to blend in as a merchant. He can hardly pass as one even if he left his sword home. He just prefers not to carry it strapped at the ready in a city full of people. ] I'm a hunter.

[ There's a difference. ]

A hunter. [ Claude repeats that and considers the clarification. Which feels like an important one even if he has yet to know the whole context, but it's enough for that difference to be noted. ] I suppose you don't mean a hunter of the variety that goes looking for game alone, then.

[ It's difficult to not think of Leonie then as she fits into both of those categories he'd mentioned - just one more memory of home scattered in there with all the rest. Though it wouldn't be something he necessarily has in common with Geralt if that's the case, it could be a connection all the same. He joins Geralt in observing the pool festivities, still searching for a comparison all the while. ]

Both are common where I'm from, though hunting for food is probably more so when it comes to the term hunter. Mercenaries certainly exist too as my professor was one before joining the academy. But the ones I know of mercenaries also tend to handle more than just bands of bandits, what with various beasts and monsters roaming the land. They also tend to favor swords, which is what yours reminded me of when I saw it.

[ It's far from his most subtle floating of something out there to see if it'll bring back any more information, but. Worth a shot. ]

[ Full of fun facts, isn't he? Geralt can't say he needs anyone to tell him sellswords and hunters are common in their world—he's pretty damn sure every world with a sentient species capable of earning coin has them—but he files away the information nonetheless. ]

No. I don't. [ For Geralt, that is clear enough. For Claude? Probably not.

Somewhere during their conversation, his wolf wandered off. When it returns, it wears two red and blue stars strapped to a shimmering band on its head. Geralt does not appear alarmed by this. Instead, he takes the note the wolf carries—and Claude will find Geralt's eyes drifting upstairs to Julie, their pink-haired host. Not that he ever needs a reason to end a conversation he's finished with, whether his companion feels the same or not.

He rises to his feet without indication, patting the wolf on its decorated head. ] Keep talking. He'll listen.

[ It's not clear enough, but. Claude's beginning to understand he's only going to get answers in whatever form Geralt sees fit, and that suits him just fine. Or doesn't dissuade him, rather; Geralt's way of responding isn't unlike talking to Teach when his professor had first arrived at the monastery. On the plus side, Geralt actually responds instead of just staring blankly like Teach would until he gave up on waiting for an answer. That's a bonus!

The wolf returns with decorations and he's about to make a comment about how suddenly they're very under-dressed by comparison, but then the note's retrieved. It's not difficult to see what's coming and he glances vaguely in the direction of where Geralt looked, only to choke back a laugh (successfully) when it's followed by the other man standing up in clear departure. The abruptness of it is comforting in its own way because that's another move out of Teach's book he's also very well-acquainted with. ]

Don't worry, I'll keep him entertained for a bit. You enjoy the rest of your evening.

[ Geralt will get an idle half-salute like those are serious orders and a grin in farewell before he heads off to his next destination, and meanwhile: Claude's holding up his end of the bargain by wandering off with the wolf in tow to browse the rest of the party scene. ]

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[ open ] HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMERICA (not you abraxas)

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it's a wrap!