abraxaslogs | EVENT #2 IC POST

EVENT #2 IC POST

Event #2

On July 11th, all of the prisoners and honored guests alike will be marched outside of the castle grounds, to a lightly forested area with a bright blue portal shining in the distance and flanked by a group of four Thornean mages.

Ambrose's Speech

"Good afternoon to you all. I suppose this is a little overdue and on that note, I am sorry. There's a lot to get done, and a lot at stake, and I find myself trapped between my duties to the crown and what I owe to you. I thank you all for your patience, save for one individual among you," he says, shooting a glare to Jon Sims, who is heavily guarded to an extent that the other prisoners are not, "But in light of a recent altercation I think it best that you all know what's going on."

"What you're about to see is an ancient artifact known as the Singularity. It has existed, as far as we know, since the dawn of time. Not only is it the source of all magic in this world, it is the life-force which sustains all other universes. If you've ever wondered why our magic seems so terribly powerful compared to yours, or why some of you have no magic at all, it's because the magic in this world sustains the Singularity and the Singularity, in turn, sustains every other universe that has ever existed or will ever exist."

"However, that does not mean that the Singularity in inherently good. It exists, and sustains your universes by random happenstance, not by design. In recent years the Singularity has begun to turn, and weaken, and for the first time in recorded history the amount of observable universes attached to it has decreased in number. If we cannot find a way to harness and re-energize it, we fear it may devour all that is to ensure its own continued existence."

"It is a known fact that we - natives of Abraxas - cannot approach the Singularity ourselves. We would be torn apart in seconds if we tried. People from other worlds have no such limitation. You may get close enough to touch it. So, while you may be upset that we have pulled you from your worlds without permission - an act for which I do apologize, and I truly wish there was a better way - you are here to save not only this world but all worlds. To understand the Singularity, we need you."

"We thank those among you, our honored guests and the prisoners we've chosen to release, who have behaved themselves and even aided us throughout the last few weeks. I caution you against becoming so smitten with our prisoners that it distracts you from what I have just said: for the sake of all universes, we must contain all threats. I've seen a great deal of possibilities, and there are times when even the best of intentions leads to disaster. To those of you who have been welcomed, you are a boon to us and we will accommodate you as much as we can, but you are still guests in this world, unwilling though you might be, and trust needs to be earned. Given your situation we want to treat you all with a certain degree of understanding and offer you some leeway that our own citizens would not receive. That does not, however, mean you have free reign to do whatever you please."

"Case in point, I regret to inform you that an honored guest, Jon Sims, did attack me and use a particularly intrusive form of magic in an attempt to extract confidential information that could have endangered my world and yours. This is considered high treason, and he will be executed by hanging on the twenty-third of August. Good day to you all, and I hope that what you are about to see impresses upon you the gravity of our situation."

The Horizon

Everyone is marched through the portal and when they emerge on the other side, what they'll see is a huge desert with a perfectly circular crater a few miles wide. At he center of the crater is the Singularity, and although it doesn't seem too imposing at this distance a certain power radiates from it. Some of the mages avert their eyes, as if they can't bear to look at it. Some of them seem almost drawn to it and they have to be held back by their fellows to prevent them from crossing the line and being torn apart. Ambrose stares, and though he doesn't approach it there's a certain amount of melancholy in his expression.

The newcomers are allowed to soak in its majesty for only a minute or two before they are yanked forwards and into the crater by something that feels like a rope coming from the inside of their chests. They are at once overwhelmed, and without exception they all black out...

...and awaken in the Horizon, where they will spend the next few weeks without memories of any world but this one, constantly aware of the Singularity and its power.

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[ The lights that shine from within don't flicker as a flame does. Interesting. Curious, but not enough for him to ask. He's seen stranger. (Like the water spout that's now a permanent fixture in his cabin.)

Geralt helps the princess off the horse. She runs inside, her form bleeding into the shadows as she does. ]

Don't need to worry about Roach. [ Normally he'd hitch her to a nearby tree instead, but he senses she won't wander off here. He lifts a stoppered jug instead: wine, from Jaskier's last visit. Figured he'd bring something if he's coming all this way. Besides, the bard is always leaving wine of some kind behind. ]

Not interrupting, am I? [ He's already walking in, though, taking in the carefully furnished home, books stacked, a cozy air. ]

She'd find her way back regardless, I imagine.

[Alucard opens his mouth to say more, but he's too distracted by the way the princess' form bleeds into shadow. There's precious little space for that shadow to move about, but--

--it really is the damndest thing, isn't it? The dhampir's lips thin at the spot where she melted into shadow, but he doesn't ask further questions. He instead focuses on pâine și sare. The salt holder is the easiest part, held in a little wooden cup with a lid. Bread though, hm. Alucard's eyes move left, considering the last loaf he baked. Light rye. He put walnuts in it, didn't he?

Yes. He reaches into the breadbox that sits on the counter, and an already halfway gone through loaf of rye is there, just as remembered. A few slices are cut, and he brings them over on a plate with the salt jar perched beside them.]

Nothing to interrupt.

[A true statement. At noticing the wine jug, Alucard goes for glasses. Proper wine glasses, and they're gently placed on the table.

This is it, really. Just the kitchen, the table, and two doors that lead to the bedroom and bathroom. Bookstacks, but nothing else terribly personal.]

Walking for the sheer desire of it?

[ If Geralt notices the oddity, it doesn't show. He doesn't. Or he does, but something inside him won't allow his mind to dwell on it or pick it loose. It feels fragile. The girl, that is. The fact that if he searches too deeply within himself, he finds a dozen empty shelves, hollowed out.

She's here. She's protected. That should be enough. ]

You could say that. [ He hangs his cloak by the doorway. The girl has situated herself by a window, peering out. Adrian hasn't asked about her. For that, Geralt is grateful. There's nothing to explain, anyway. Nothing that he wants to explain. ]

Thought it was only appropriate it's my turn to drop in unannounced.

[Alucard pours the wine, but he doesn't savor the scent until the jug has a cap back on it and he can actually focus on the bouquet. It's a little sweeter than he anticipated, but the earthy undertone in the scent is pleasant. Matches his domain, if he's being honest.

He doesn't sip yet though. Guests first.]

And so here we are. [His eyes move back to the girl by the window. It was easier to shrug her off in Geralt's domain. Here, it is a little harder.]

I don't have much by way of entertainment. For that I apologize.

[ Here they are indeed.

He seats himself by the table, taking a drink as he does. It's comfortable, though he can't help sensing a shroud over the entire place. Looking at its size, at the thick woods beyond its walls, he's beginning to understand why Adrian left so often as a wolf to find company of a kind. ]

Mm. [ His gaze shifts to the princess, then back. ] Neither did I.

[ Unlike how he might have said it before the girl's arrival, it now carries a note of confession. His cabin, his forest—they're not made for a young girl. He can keep her safe. He will. That much, he's certain. But he doesn't know how to do more than that. He doesn't have more than that for her. She needs more, doesn't she? (A family?) ]

Almost expected to find it deserted here. Figured you might've run off somewhere again.

[It's good wine. The kind Alucard might actually buy on purpose, were he not living off his father's wine cellar back in Wallachia. He goes so far as to swirl the glass and watch as the liquid moves.]

Can't recommend the woods. Or most of the books, come to think of it, unless there's a deep desire to learn about how to build things.

[Alucard's interests may vary, but he's found his greatest joys in engineering and magic. Contrasts, yes, but they all hopefully create something better.]

Just resting. Figured I'd leave everything be for a bit, having spent a fair amount of time away.

[ His eyebrow lifts: interest and a hint of bemusement at the same time. ] Not one for storybooks?

[ Whether they are suitable for the girl or not, she's taken up one of the books—as if talking about them in the first place has drawn her to them. When she opens the pages, it's hard to say if she's really reading at all.

He quietly pushes it aside. The bread smells fresh, nutty. He reaches for a portion of it. ]

I thought Cirilla could use a change in scenery. [ Hence his arrival. ] We haven't left since...

[ Since she showed up. Since he realized she's nowhere else to go. ]

Do technical drawings count?

[The question is in fact serious. The book in Cirilla's hands is most technical, focused on secure foundations and types of stone. Castles with cut aways showing their inner workings make up the specialized book plates printed on sturdier rag paper, and someone's handwriting has added notes.

Alucard commits the name to memory. He won't prod about her origin, just that she's here now. Geralt seems patient enough to endure what child care involves.]

Well if you think she'd prefer my other form, I don't mind.

[Alucard knows the bread is good. He takes his own piece, but dips it in the wine before taking a bite.]

And I'm told my tastes are dry. [ He props a foot up. He's curious now, though. What was it Adrian said. To come see what his kitchen had to offer?

He can see it. Everything's just a bit...hmm. Sleeker. Smoother. He can recognize what the things in here do—but he can't grasp why or how they work. Maybe it makes no difference, in a world where things are just as they're made. ]

Adrian. [ Geralt raises an eyebrow. A teasing glint lights his eyes, even if his expression is as tempered as ever. ] Are you just seeking more scratches behind your ears from the girl?

My tastes are not dry.

[Alucard doesn't try and defend himself further. Instead, his gaze goves to the stove. He should offer more, but the question of what sticks in his head. What, he doesn't know.

--Thankfully, there's no time to think. His head snaps back, expression hurt and offended.]

I am not! [HOW DARE????] Only trying to be a good host, as the book selection isn't likely to help--

[ Mm. That's what gets him? Geralt can't help the crooked tilt to his lips, however subtle. He's not trying to be a bastard. (Not entirely.) It's just—

Pretty obvious, in truth. The man had lived as a wolf in his home for a few days. And wild as they are, a wolf's still a wolf. Their tails wag. ]

Don't get your back up. I'm not judging. [ He breaks off another piece of bread. ] But if you're not yet tired of being a person, I wouldn't mind if you showed me around. Place is...different.

[He likes to pretend he has a very, very small piece of dignity. Even if it isn't true and at the end of the day, all Alucard's after is a little affection while in his wolf form.

Alucard takes a very long sip of the wine, letting the comment about not judging die. That seems best for the time being.]

There's...well, not much to see, but if you insist. You don't mind going on foot, do you?

[ Geralt files away the reaction—or lack thereof—for later. He does insist. Domains say a lot about a man. Adrian is one who's piqued his interest, for better or for worse.

Besides. It's calm here, if a bit melancholy. He reaches for Cirilla's hand. Quiet though it might be, Geralt's still not about to leave her here unattended. The sense that she might slip away any moment stays with him. ]

What else are they for? [ He stands to follow the wolf. ]

Soaking in long baths.

[But there, that's it. Alucard leaves his wine aside for now, and gets up to see everyone out. He knows somehow, deep down, that there's no reason to lock the door behind him. No one will make it so far along the path, and there's nothing worth stealing. Still, he locks the door behind him, slipping a small iron key into the pocket of his trousers.

To the left then, along the true path that the Hedge doesn't interfer with. There's no rain today, only a gentle mist that hangs around autumnal trees who have nearly given up all their leaves. Flickers of red and burnt oranges, aged golds shift in and out of focus as the mist moves along, and the ground below is damp. Still, there is an impossible crispness to the leaves that litter the forest floor, their crunch deeply satisfying.

What there isn't here is animal noises. No bird calls ring out, not even a squirrel darts out of the thin mist to scuttle around for an acorn. There is quiet, there is the mist, and ahead, the Hedge.

The Hedge is the brightest part of it all, more deep emerald greens and strange flowers. It twists. Turns. Dodges through the otherwise dreary trees, although Alucard's careful to keep a distance from it. There is a path here, subtle but there all the same.]

[ It's the quiet that's unnerving. Geralt is used to sound, used to hearing what few others can. Even the whisper of a bird's wings. There's nothing here. It isn't just quiet; it's devoid of life. Animal life, at least. The leaves are fiery, the mist a constant shroud.

And that hedge. What is that? Does it belong to Adrian? Doubtful. It shines like a jewel where the rest of his forest nearly slumbers. ]

It's simple. Not fond of wildlife?

[ It's...different. Geralt's woods are quiet, too, but active. There are fish in the rivers; rabbits that burrow and wolves that roam. Deer that come to graze on his flowers. Roach's constant company. He's alone there, but he's never lonely. Not really.

This. This is not solitude. This is lonely, he thinks. And that's a hell of a sensation for someone like him to have, to be in a place so silent and empty that even he feels its loneliness. ]

Just in want of space unto myself.

[There's a softer, faraway tone to the response. Alucard's absolutely here and in the moment, but there's an externalization in the statement that while not wrong, isn't the whole story either.

He wanted space along and hung out in Geralt's cabin for how many days, after all.

Alucard keeps moving along. Walks parallel to the hedge, until it twists when he turns near a very, very quiet stream that flows over pale rocks. A few boulders peak out over the water line, and he's careful as he moves over them. The next part isn't addressed to Geralt though, because surely a man living in a domain like Geralt's already knows to do this:]

Watch your step, they're slippery.

[ That there's more isn't difficult to pick out. Who considers a handful of birds flying through the treetops encroaching on one's space? He's getting a picture here that isn't altogether clear yet—but it's coming together.

He acknowledges the warning with a sound. He does not carry nor help the girl over; instead, he sends her ahead first, following close behind in case she stumbles. There's a sense he's less interested in keeping her from harm himself than ensuring she learns to do so on her own.

They reach the other side with no slips. Melancholic air aside, it's not a bad walk. Besides, he's the last to complain about a lack of cheer. ]

Yours is the first I've seen in autumn. [ Summer, spring, winter. Places with no seasons at all. But autumn—he hasn't come across that yet until now. ]

If I'm going to have color in a place, I'd like for it to be brightest.

[And that much is true. Leaves this far into the autumn ought to be brown or nearly there. Not so here - every leaf is bright like a fire ember, making the pops of color all the more noteworthy for just how sharply they contrast.

There's really just an endless loop here. Alucard can twist the path for as long as the group wants to keep going, and he's not precisely inclined to right now. Noticing how Geralt interacts with his charge is fascinating in and of itself. The instincts he has feel right at any rate.]

Yours is the only one I've seen in winter, but I'm afraid not getting out much makes me a poor point of comparison.

[ Hmm. Fair enough. He can't explain his decision for winter, either. Or why it melts into spring when and only when Jaskier visits. He knows it's his doing—the Horizon doesn't shift without his intentions—but he simply can't put into words the reasons behind his choices.

Or why this girl feels at once like his and yet not at all. Why he worries something may come for her, when he knows well there's nothing in this world he can't protect her from. ]

You're not wrong. I imagine most prefer the warmth. [ Like that beach. Sam's home. ] Cold's never bothered me, though.

[ It tells him he's home. ]

That much has been clear for a time.

[Winter at Geralt's is fine enough. It is quiet, with a soft blanket of snow enveloping the land. Alucard does not mind it in the least, but this place is his.

He's not sure how long they wander. Just that they do, and then Geralt, the girl, and the horse are walked to the very far edge of Alucard's domain to be seen off properly. It is polite. It is correct. And for the life of him Alucard can't remember where his concern for such things came from.]

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EVENT #2 IC POST

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