abraxaslogs | [ CLOSED ] the feeling never dies in your eyes

[ Though Geralt hasn't any need of hounds, he's occasionally taken along a dog—mostly because Julie will insist she's found him the perfect one. He doesn't much mind. They're good hounds, and he prefers the companionship of an animal over people any day. That goes doubly so right now. He is not eager to listen to opinions and debates and thoughts on the war, on Thorne, on anything.

It's all the same.

At the moment, he's without a hound having returned his last one not long ago. He's allowed himself to be directed to a section of the city he's been told is lacking in hands. The fires are out, leaving behind smoldering ruins, thick ash, crumpled metal and stone and cracked roads. Overturned wagons. A familiar scene. He's ridden through dozens of towns and villages just like this. The difference is he rarely stops in them to dig through the rubble. But things have changed since he last walked the Continent.

It's near the southern edge of Libertas that he spots a familiar figure ahead. He pauses, decides why the fuck not. Comes up behind the man, stepping atop a small pile of debris. ]

Observing or helping? [ No judgment for either choice. He's simply curious. ]

Edited 2022-09-12 17:56 (UTC)

[Altaïr is used to facing the horrors of wars. Even if the walls of Masyaf keep his home well protected from direct battle, he has spent enough time in the contested cities to see what it does to those who claim no affiliation with the forces that do battle for their god. He knows that he can't save everyone, that directly joining the conflict will only stoke the flames of war, and that there are better ways to lessen the bloodshed. That doesn't mean it leaves him unmoved, then or now. Even if he doesn't show it.

He's crouched at the lower end of a slope, peering at debris that goes further down — there must have been underground storage for these buildings to collapse into. Maybe dungeons. It would be dangerous to venture inside any of the gaps and crevices on his own, but he stares into them, unblinking, with his second sight. He has no idea if it will work this way — if the "glow" he sees in his mind's eye, alerting him to the true intention of whoever he's looking at, will activate if he cannot see the body it emanates from in the dark. But he has to at least try.

There's a light scuff of footsteps behind him. Altaïr doesn't bother to look back when the newcomer speaks; he recognizes the voice from a rather memorable encounter.]

Not much of either at the moment. [There's not much to observe that can't be gleaned in a single glance at the devastation, and so far he hasn't been much good at aid, either.] But helping, or trying to.

[ Geralt crouches down, as well. Peers into the same yawning pit. No heartbeats. Not much else to make out from under the heavy rubble. Maybe a limb or two, he thinks. Beneath the blood and smoke and decay, he can smell the faint remnant of molasses, the sharpness of alcohol. Whatever this place once was, it had plenty of rum to go with it.

Gambling hall, perhaps. Libertas had its fair share. ]

Seems we're destined to meet over corpses.

[ So to speak. It's a dark sort of humour, the kind that comes from several decades too many of watching people and kingdoms collapse around him. At least Libertas has an entire army mobilized to rescue and rebuild. Many places are not so lucky, left to languish in the aftermath. They waste away, abandoned by the few survivors, until all that's left is rotting wood, half-buried bones, overtaken by ghouls and crows that come to feast.

He's been watching for that, too. Monsters drawn in by the stench of death. ]

[Yeah, speaking of death...

Probably this guy shouldn't be doing search and rescue. He has little to offer physically, and, in fact, is slightly a hazard to himself, trying to navigate the rubble and largely unable to handle a very strong, very driven working dog. Still, there's work for him to do here, whether that's spot-repairing tools and equipment or calibrating the communication devices meant to call in the "professionals". He's fiddling with one now, though with only one free hand, doesn't get very far until he can come to a stop and start working on it with two.

He glances up at Geralt and Altaïr, briefly, as if recalibrating his course of action now that he has two extremely physically capable people in his purview. That's fine. He's good at delegating.]

Where would you like to begin?

[Viktor is on your team now. Hello.]

[Altaïr has been skeptical about using the hounds to look for survivors — or those who did not survive, but still deserved to be found — for a number of reasons. He has never spent much time with animals, he's accustomed to working alone, he would rather not make his face too known to anyone in a position of official power...he could go on.

It makes a difference if he's working with two men he knows not to be complete fools, though. And one of them has already gotten the dog without his having to be there, that's something too. Still, he could make an exit now without difficulty.

But they could still save people. Their chances might be better if they make a joint effort.]

Here is as good as anywhere. [He can't be certain whether his sight failed to show him anything because there is nothing to be found or if it simply will not help him here regardless.] Safety and peace, Viktor.

[He lifts a hand in greeting. The bracer housing his new hidden blade is strapped to his arm. Thanks, Viktor.]

[ The lightest furrow touches Geralt's brows, as if discerning whether Viktor should even be walking about out here. Seems ill-advised. On the other hand, it is not his place to tell a man who is already dying that he should take better care not to get himself killed. So after a second, Geralt looks back down the hole.

Ah. They've met. That makes things simpler, seeing as Geralt still doesn't know the man's name. Makes him a poor choice for introductions.

His gaze flicks to the hound. Its single red eye meets his, and he pats it on the head in what is probably the only friendly gesture either of them have witnessed out of him. ]

Everything's dead here. [ No explanation is forthcoming as to how he's so certain. ] We should move north.

[Viktor should not be out here, and he probably knows that, but like many bad ideas, he’s decided to aggressively ignore it and do what he wants, regardless. Besides, there are things he can do—-if they decide to go down the hole, he can probably rig some kind of pulley system in short order. Help them rappel down or hoist things back up.

Neither of them tell him to leave, so he figures they’ll find him useful one way or another. He doesn’t bother to make further introductions, figuring they all already know each other. It’s not as though the Summoned are a particularly large group.]

How can you tell?

[Well, the dog doesn’t seem to be reacting to anything, for one, but Geralt sounds fairly sure of this. Viktor isn’t one to give up so easily, so he wants to be certain, before they move on.]

[ That hound looks as though it outweighs Viktor. Probably for the best it's obedient, sitting politely on its haunches while the three of them hover over the crater in the ground.

He steps off the pile of rubble. ]

No heartbeat. Blood's a few days old.

[ He can hear vermin scurrying, the sound of them gnawing on decaying flesh and bones. That's about it. He doesn't need the hound to confirm what he already knows, but it seems to agree.

In any case, their job isn't to dig out the dead. Or at least, that isn't what Geralt's here to do. The city has men for that. ]

[That earns a very close look and a slightly raised eyebrow from Altaïr, but he doesn't inquire how exactly Geralt knows this to be the case. The man is certain, that's obvious, and he must have a reason to be so, or think he does.

Whatever the reason behind that certainty, it wouldn't be the strangest thing Altaïr has seen in this world, and he of all people knows that some men are able to sense things that others cannot. Besides, if he were to object and insist they investigate to the satisfaction of all, despite even the lack of response from the hound, it would likely only waste precious time.]

North is fine, then.

[He gets to his feet and automatically takes point. It's unlikely they'll run into any looters or other unsavory folk at this hour, but it's an instinctive precaution. Just in case. Glancing back to make sure the others are following him, he drops his gaze to the hound. He hasn't seen one work like this.]

Have you handled dogs before?

[Despite the fact that Geralt provides no real explanation, Viktor is not about to argue with two people arguably much more suited to this kind of thing than he is. That much becomes evident quickly when Altaïr decides to take the lead and Viktor almost immediately falls behind. He doesn't expect the two of them to accommodate him in a situation like this, but he follows along regardless, apparently determined to stick around in case something breaks and needs fixing.

He isn't sure if Altaïr is even asking him specifically, but he'll answer anyway, if only to feel like he's currently contributing.]

No. [Not much opportunity for that, given his work in the labs. He likes dogs, even, but he recognizes that handling a working animal is an entirely different breed.

No pun intended.]

But he's behaved well enough, so far. I'm more interested in these communication devices.

[Which he helpfully holds up, should either Geralt or Altaïr look back.]

Edited 2022-09-25 17:03 (UTC)

[ No one questions him further, so Geralt considers the matter settled. He lets Viktor go ahead, bringing up the rear. Not that he expects anything to come at them from behind, but it's habit. Buildings groan and creak; he can't imagine Viktor is having a simple time keeping up, between the uneven ground and dust in the air, but.

He'll keep an ear on the man's breathing. Just in case.

The hound trots along between them. He gives Viktor's little device a cursory glance before digging out one of his own. They'd insisted he take one, and Geralt had not seen any reason to say no. Might be useful, might not, but it's small and easy to carry. ]

Want another to study?

[ He doesn't mind offering it over. ]

[The two of them are welcome to pore over the devices as long as they want. Altaïr is mildly suspicious of them, as he would be of any artifact that could indicate to others where he is and what he is doing. He doesn't know whether they are powered by magic or yet another aspect of technology unknown to his era, but as one who habitually seeks to go unnoticed, it leaves him unsettled to have such a device on his person.

(It's not that he has no interest in his. He does, and has already studied his own as much as he is capable of doing so without taking it apart entirely. He would welcome the presence of its maker, who he could question or attempt to beat information out of in order to learn more about its functions, but both options would only delay the aid they can give to those who may still be in need of it.)

He's the first to reach the next collapsed building, one that either had no basement to collapse into or was large enough to still make a much bigger piece of rubble. Eyeing it carefully, he climbs onto a sturdy-enough looking pile of masonry, peering into the shadows of the collapsed second (or third, or fourth) floor.]

Edited (can't live with having used a default icon like a plebe) 2022-09-26 14:57 (UTC)

I do, yes.

[Viktor always like a bonus, because it means he can thoroughly dismantle one of them without worrying about losing his only chance at examining a particular gadget. When it becomes apparent that they're reaching a viable search point, Viktor finds a convenient piece of rubble to sit on, for the aforementioned dismantling of the extra device.

He watches Altaïr scale the rubble, but only long enough for him to determine that his impromptu teammate knows what he's doing, and isn't going to create another injured person for them to deal with.]

If you give me a few minutes, I can probably extend the range.

[So, you know, if Geralt and Altaïr want to dig through the remains of buildings, or something...]

[ Geralt only half-looks as he relinquishes the device to Viktor. He doesn't give much thought to how he'll explain where it's gone; this city is in shambles. They're likely losing a dozen of these little things a day.

With Viktor preoccupied by his new toys and their other companion already scampered atop what's left of a building (how the fuck did he get up there already?), Geralt takes over the hound. Her collar says Ruby; she follows him easily once he retrieves her lead. May as well. She might scent something he can't. They're obviously not typical hounds.

He walks through the remains of a crumpled doorway. If anything's about to topple onto his head, he supposes the man above can warn him. In the meanwhile, Geralt continues to scale the debris, letting the hound sniff its way about until he pauses by a crack in the floor. He crouches down, laying his palm against it. The ground shudders as a force radiates from him—then it gives, crumbling inward to reveal a hole into the cellar. Or perhaps a tunnel. He can't tell if it's a part of the house or just under it.

Regardless, he's jumping in, with or without company. ]

[There's nothing in this section of the structure that Altaïr can see, with either his normal vision or his second sight. It's possible that there could be more if he ventures further in, but he's not above to risk himself without a reason, even a small one.

He begins to move back down, somehow managing to scramble with grace. He wants to ask Viktor how he can make the device work better, if it's similar to anything he's used before in his own world, and and other questions that might spring to mind, but then Geralt does something to the debris and moves into the tunnel with intent.

(The shudder wasn't enough to shake him off, but then he wouldn't have been offended if it did. None of them should be here if they can't look after themselves, and presumably Geralt knows this.)]

I take it something's caught his notice.

[He catches Viktor's eye and cocks his head toward the hole.]

Coming?

[He scarcely waits for an answer before moving to follow Geralt. If the man's found something, he wants to know what. If it hasn't and he's acting on a hunch, Altaïr may have to haul him out if he goes too far. But he suspects that's not the case.]

Me?

[Viktor says that like it might be a joke, peering down into the literal hole, then fixing Altaïr with a raised eyebrow, a little bit are you serious? He can't even say he's curious about what they might find, because he's not exactly optimistic about the situation in general.]

No, I don't think that's a very good idea. Yell, or something, if you run into trouble.

[He's going to stay out here and play with his toy, thanks.]

[ If Viktor were to have tried to go down, Geralt's prepared with a distinct "No." But Viktor is not a fool, so the only thing Geralt sends along is the hound to keep company or for the man to test whatever fiddling he's doing with the devices. Play fetch with them.

In either case, Geralt doesn't wait for anyone else to catch up. If Viktor needs them back on the surface, he can scrawl those mind messages at them.

The tunnel beneath is wet, like a pool or well has burst nearby and flowed through. He does think he hears something, though. A heartbeat, but no voices. It's slow and weak but it's there. He moves quickly towards it along the tunnel. He has the courtesy to light the torches along the walls for Altair, the ones that haven't fallen—a flare of heat from the palm of his hand. ]

Here. [ He grabs one of the jagged rocks atop the pile. ] Help with these.

[ With the direction they've walked, they're just about beneath where Viktor is sitting. Which means that when the ground trembles, it's possible Viktor can feel it from up there, as well. ]

[Not a joke, but not something he expected an affirmative response to. Viktor doesn't appear to be the type to welcome a sudden venture into the bowels of a half-collapsed building. But Altaïr has learned the hard way not to judge by appearances alone; he tries not to assume.

Quickly, he catches up with Geralt, who clearly senses something that Altaïr cannot. He calls his other sight in a quick flicker, but there's nothing yet. Nodding, he does as the other man says, moving cautiously but urgently. Hopefully there aren't so many rocks that they can't forge a path through.]

What drew you here?

[He doesn't ask what they're looking for. That's obvious. But if there's something specific that makes this patch of devastation worth looking into, he'd like to know what it is.]

[ He sort of pauses at the tremor, but when it doesn't come again, he keeps going. There's an ease, maybe, to the way he moves the heavy rocks. A few rats scurry in the distance. ]

A heartbeat.

[ Does it belong to someone who can be saved? That's another matter. He only knows he can hear the pulse, that it's weak, but there. As the path clears, inch by inch, he can smell the blood. Human blood. Fresh, some of it. If there's someone there, they must be alive.

The last boulder is large—too large to really lift off. He ends up shoving it out of the way instead, holding it in place, tipping his head to indicate Altair should go through. Figures the man can tell him what he finds while Geralt keeps the rock from rolling back down.

And if Viktor is watching, a message scrawls along the dirt above: ]

Send for someone.
Or some thing.

[ Either will do. Viktor arrived last time with a few contraptions; he's learned not to try and predict what useful inventions Viktor may pull out of his pockets next. ]

Edited 2022-10-14 07:46 (UTC)

[A heartbeat. That says very little and a great deal about what Geralt is capable of. He'll remember it.

Further contemplation will have to wait, though. He nods and clambers through, his sight immediately revealing the source of what his impromptu partner heard. It's terribly dark in here, but the supine form fairly glows a misty gray to Altaïr's eyes. He can't immediately detect movement, but his sight is reacting, which means this isn't a corpse.]

A man. [Altaïr calls back as he moves to check the man's condition.] Unconscious. I can't see anything obviously broken, though.

[It could also be the result of shock, exposure, lack of food and water. Any and all of the above. If he's been trapped here since the attack, he may not have much time left even if there's no acute injury.]

[Above ground, Viktor waits very patiently. Pets the dog. Expertly guts the communications device, switches around a few wires and ends up fairly confident that he's made some improvements. It's lucky, that he's snapping the casing back together just as the words materialize in the dirt in front of him.

As soon as he sees the message from Geralt, he's quick to activate the signal. Given the increasing lack of actual survivors, the authorities are along fairly quickly--which is good, because Viktor still isn't going to be able to join them in the Pit™. Instead, he sends Geralt a message in kind.]

Medics on their way. Sent them with a device I think will be helpful.

[The device in question, when the medics arrive, appears to be a kind of hydraulic tool for moving debris aside and holding it in place--Tony's devising, but Viktor is a little hard-pressed to see how he could do any better. Rudimentary to the inventors, perhaps, but helpful nonetheless.]

[ A device is broad; Geralt is uncertain about what's actually arriving to...help. Knowing Viktor, it could be anything.

Regardless, Geralt is not truly a doctor, a healer, nor even much of a rescuer. His expertise lies in killing things and, in doing so, ideally saving a life or two if he's lucky. Dragging survivors out of the rubble while they're suffering from unknown injuries? Not in a Witcher's training. Which means he's content to to stand back and let the arriving officials do what they will. Assumes they'll have a better chance at not breaking any further bones with said contraption.

(What even is that thing?)

He waits for the medics to dig the unconscious figure out, catching the other man's eye in the darkness—now lit from the arriving torches and lanterns. Follows closely behind so they can get the hell out of here. He crouches over the pit out of habit once above ground, even if he's certain his companion will not need a hand getting back up. ]

You'll have to tell me one day where you learned to climb like that. [ And also his name, but. That's a topic for another day. ]

[The quick response of the healers is a welcome thing, as the unconscious man's survival is not guaranteed just because he's been found. Altaïr is no more a doctor than Geralt is, so once he's made sure there is no wound or other acute injury they can actually do something about, he steps back. The man will live, or he will not; it's out of their hands.

(He does pay very close attention to the device the rescuers use to create an easier opening, taking detailed mental notes while his fingers fairly itch to take real ones. It's the latest of many things he's found himself impressed by since arriving in this land.)

He stays quiet as until they emerge from the hole, his mouth curving into a small smile when he hears Geralt's words.]

One day.

[Maybe. He nods at Viktor, appreciative of his role in the rescue as well.]

It seems our companion was more useful than the hound.

[Much to Viktor's relief, the actual retrieval doesn't take very long, and soon enough Geralt and Altaïr are emerging from the hole. The dog perks up at their return, quick to trot over to them. Viktor seems to have put the signaling devices back together as well.]

Who, Geralt?

[A sideways glance--he hasn't quite forgotten the fact that Geralt seemed to have known there was someone underneath the rubble, though how he accomplished that without the aid of the dog has yet to be seen. Viktor isn't going to pry, but he does file away the information in the back of his head and asks something of a loaded question, instead.]

You do seem to have a knack for this kind of thing, don't you?

[ He crouches down to greet the hound, scratching her behind the ears. His attention only flicks back up when Viktor directs a remark at him.

He raises an eyebrow. It is a loaded question, but the truth also isn't something he's hiding. The only reason he's never explicitly said is because Viktor has never asked. Until now. ]

For tracking? [ Diving into darkened corners? Or something else? Whichever it may be, the answer he gives encompasses all options: ] I'm not human.

[ The length of time he's spent in this world has, at least, led him to stop assuming his eyes give him away immediately as they always have on the Continent. Most people apparently do not think twice about his odd-colored eyes. ]

[ CLOSED ] the feeling never dies in your eyes

altair + viktor; quest.

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