( CLOSED )

[gynvael]

Who: Geralt + Jaskier; Sam Wilson; Belle
When: July 25-31; Aug 5-13
Where: The castle // dungeons
What: The aftermath of the Horizon, and questions Geralt would rather not answer.
Warnings: Talk of death; possibly other similarly dark topics


(( closed starters below. if you'd like a starter following up on the Horizon or anything else in between the July event and August arrivals, hit me up at discontinued! ))

sam wilson | jaskier | belle | sam wilson (ii)

Comments

sam wilson.

[gynvael]

[ Returning from the Horizon is disorienting. Like being jerked out of a hurricane. Remembering all that went on there is slower; a steady sinking that he cannot stop. If Geralt tended to keep to himself before, he's now moved onto strictly ignoring anyone and everything that doesn't require immediate attention. The restless itch in his fingers grow. He lets himself ponder decisions he knows would be incredibly bad ones.

He wants to ride. He should be home. The thought sounds childish crossing his mind, but there are not many steady constants in his life and not many places he can return to and know he'll not be turned away. Kaer Morhen is one of the few. And he wants to talk to Vesemir. (Vesemir would understand; would know what it is to bury children that feel too much like yours when you should know better.)

When footsteps invariably make their way down the stairs, Geralt glances to the side without turning his head. (That's the other part that fucks with him: the loss of his senses all over again now that he's back here.) That it's Sam doesn't surprise him. The man has been by a handful of times. Geralt hasn't minded much—but that was before. Now it's—

Complicated. In truth, if it'd been anyone but Sam, in any other situation, what occurred between them would've felt nothing short of invasive. But if there's one thing he understands, it's that the Horizon had left no room for hidden motives. That as with him, what he found within others was raw, unaltered.

So when he sighs at Sam's approach, there's a note of acceptance to his display of exasperation. ] You know I'll only tell you I'm fine.

[falcony]

[ there is a general sense of the castle once they return from the horizon. experiences shared without the intent behind them have left many of the people, both honored guests and those still kept down the dungeons, feeling a bit exposed. sam does what he can to check in on those he saw in the horizon, if only because he doesn't - necessarily - feel the same way. yes, seeing his home back in delacroix and not being able to remember sarah, or aj, or cas, feels a bit like a rib has been ripped out of his chest. but what he does remember most of the time there, or even the time in the city as captain america, hadn't been invasive.

granted, his list of people to check in on has grown exponentially, and he's already found that initial discussion of 'we haven't actually met but i remember you coming over for gumbo' to be more awkward than it had any right to be. if anything, it makes the time he takes away to go down to see geralt all the more...what? easy? casual? he did not meet geralt without memories, did not slip into a close, but not actually, space with him under the guise of magically-induced intimacy. it feels a bit like a weight's been lifted from his shoulders, and as he makes it down into the stone hall, and hears the sigh and the comment from geralt, it pulls a kind of smile from him. one that he doesn't have to put up a front for, in some ways. ]

Good thing I wasn't going to ask. [ he looks over to the guard who he'd checked in with, before coming down here. nods, once - geralt probably recognizes it for how the process goes when the 'honored guests' are allowed to chaperone one of the imprisoned. it's not the first time sam has done this with geralt, specifically, either. ] You up for a walk? [ see? he doesn't even outwardly ask about the leg. he's learning (kind of) ]

[gynvael]

[ Geralt tilts his head, looking up at Sam. For others he met in there, it was either his first encounter or he found what they wouldn't want seen. Or both. With Sam, it's not quite like that. The steady warmth he'd settled into in that house doesn't contradict the image of the man he's already been getting to know.

He considers the offer for a second. Not the most difficult decision. He's tired of being cooped up; tired of the hum of conversation and sounds he can no longer sharply distinguish once again. After the sprawling Horizon, it's been particularly confining. Unlike some of the others, he's ambivalent about...whatever supposed connection they now have. About what might still be left behind in that plain full of minds unrestrained. Returning has not been on the list of things he's eager to do despite its potential reprieve from the cells.

So. Yeah. He's up for it. His expression says he's willing, even if no answer comes out loud. In case there's any doubt, though, he gets up. His leg is better, but it's annoying to have it return to bothering him after a handful of weeks free from injury. (Free from a lot of things.)

He follows Sam out once the guards seem satisfied to let him go. The silence isn't unusual with him, but there's a sense that it stems from more than his typical disinterest in sparking small talk—that there's something on his mind he's been trying to deal with. Or swallow down, in any case. Same difference, for him. It's some paces down the hall upstairs that he finally says something. Only so many places here to go, but still—old instincts means he prefers not to follow blindly, even with someone he trusts won't lead him into a spike pit. ]

Hope you have an exciting destination in mind.

[falcony]

[ maybe it has to do with the fact that when it came to dirty laundry, or anything that either of them wouldn't want scene, they got that out of the way much earlier - images tossed up on stone walls, memories - relived - over and over. honestly, sam doesn't have a whole lot in terms of secrets he doesn't want people stomping over that hadn't ben forcefully pulled from him in those tunnels. so maybe that's why, even after the horizon, he really doesn't mind the effect it's left behind. but he is aware that isn't how most everyone else saw it, and he's sure geralt's used up all his socializing with the general public without realizing why.

and honestly - as sam stands in front of geralt's cell, in the moments before geralt agrees to come - it doesn't feel all that different. or- more so- it almost feels more the same, more comfortable, than before. but underneath all of it is still that underlying sense of...something. something sam hasn't worked out yet. but he's getting there. and part of him wonders, as geralt gets up and joins him on the walk, if there isn't anything geralt wants to say in return. he doesn't hold his breath, if only because after the horizon, sam's a bit exhausted of his 'getting people to open up about feelings they don't normally want to talk about' scale.

he snorts at geralt's comment, taking them down the main hall and towards the front entrance. ] Not sure I'd call it exciting, but I want out of this castle, so- hope you're down for some fresh air. [ sam would prefer to make it fully off the castle grounds, if only because something about ambrose's expression when they returned home didn't sit well with him, but he isn't sure if he's really in a place to push his luck. not with how many trips he's been making down to the dungeon. so...castle grounds and gardens and maybe a bit of forest it is.

it's as they're walking, though, that sam's attention is going to shift to geralt's leg. it might not be outright staring, but there are enough glances to let the other know sam is checking the other's gait, to see how much he's still limping, how bad it still looks. sam tries his best, but they barely make it out the door before he finally gives up on holding back and asks- ]

Your leg wasn't bothering you in the Horizon, was it? [ it's an observation more than a question, and sam exhales. ] But it's back to being messed up now?

[gynvael]

[ Actually? Out of this damn castle sounds ideal. He's not used to being inside for as long as he has. What. Half a season now? Their brief push into the yard each day is a joke. Hardly counts.

He does notice Sam looking. Geralt's neither surprised nor does he say a word on it. He's too tired to pretend like it isn't still being a damn pain in the arse. Jaskier's magic (and isn't that a hell of a thing on its own) a couple weeks back has managed to soothe it, but the wound is still there. It's less of a limp now; more of the way he never really rests his weight on that leg when they stop or turn a corner.

When Sam finally brings it up, Geralt glances over briefly. It's hard to put into words what he feels now. What he remembers feeling then. (Contentment. A version of it.) ]

Mm. Same as it was. [ He's wondered about it. That when they returned, things had been the same. Hunger and thirst unchanged. As if their bodies hadn't noticed they'd been absent for over a week. Makes him think what else might be suspended while they're in there. Exactly what power does Thorne believe they can tap into? And at what point is their entry into it no longer deemed necessary to be conscious and voluntary? ] Hasn't gotten worse.

[falcony]

[ sam appreciates, in a weird way, that at least geralt isn't pretending around him anymore. not that geralt really 'pretended' in the first place, but sam notes that he's not hiding the leg, and the pain it's giving him. still giving him. sam nods, more to himself than anything, as he comes to a slow stop out in the grasses. they're far enough away from the main castle, probably hidden by a couple of trees, maybe a bush. either wait, it's secluded enough that sam feels safe to ask. ]

Did you ever hear what the crystals were for? That they sent us in to grab weeks ago?

[ he knows he hasn't been talking to geralt about them - if anything, he feels a bit like most of them have tried to forget the massive amounts of trauma bonding that they went through. but sam's been doing a bit of his own digging, talking with a few other people - guests, of course, because as the days have gone on his trust for the people of thorne has withered.

but god - a thought strikes him then. mixed up in all of that. has it really been weeks? sam almost curses at the idea of it, momentarily distracted by the idea that they've been here for, actually, about two months. that he doesn't know what is happening back home, what sarah and the boys must be thinking. but that tidal wave is something to unpack for another day, and if geralt gives him any kind of look, sam is simply going to shrug. ]

I got curious and asked around. They had to be important if they went through all that trouble, you know?

[gynvael]

[ Somehow, Geralt isn't expecting the crystals to be what Sam's gotten him out here to discuss. He tilts his head. Good memories. Feels like a fucking eternity ago. Same thing might be going through Sam's head, he thinks, because he sees the way the man looks caught by a realization.

He doesn't ask. Even if it does cross his mind, briefly. Sam hasn't given any indication he's too bothered by what happened in the Horizon, but—Geralt's not certain how Sam really feels. To have held all the things so important to him and wake up with it abruptly torn away. There's a reason Sam's home had not just been a house. He remembers, distinctly, that it had been filled with what he realizes must've been Sam's friends and family. None of whom are here.

The subject hits too close to home. When Sam gives a shrug, Geralt decides that's enough of an answer. He leaves it. ]

Presumed they had alchemical properties. [ Rare crystals from an endangered species—it tracks. Given its effects, he'd considered it might be weaponized. Recreation, even. It does give a hell of a time. He leans back against one of the trees. ] You found something.

jaskier.

[gynvael]

[ It's inevitable that Jaskier will come. In a way, Geralt looks forward to the distraction. Fuck, he could use anything other than sitting in this damn cell, crammed in with a man who seems almost relieved he's at death's door and a vampire who's seen far too much between the tunnels and now. This.

But he also knows Jaskier will want to talk. Will try to talk. More than that, he's aware he owes his friend some answers. For all that he'd rather avoid the topic, he can't any longer. Especially not after he's made Jaskier promise to leave him if there's a chance of returning to find the princess. That's a ship that's long sailed now. A door he's accepted is no longer open.

They end up in the library. Geralt follows the bard like he's supposed to under the watchful eyes of the guards. Lets Jaskier pile tomes in his arms. Carries them all into a corner table, where he stacks them so that they make something close to a wall of privacy. He should be focused on getting out of here. Things feel like they've reached a boiling point. And the Horizon—

Cirilla.

He reaches for one of the texts, flipping it open. Jaskier has claimed he's here to carry books and assist in taking notes, so that's what Geralt is doing while they search for actual information at the same time. Meeting inside the Horizon is a possibility that's crossed his mind, but. Shit. For the moment, he doesn't want to go back. Not yet. Jaskier can't fucking meditate to save his life, anyway. He's silent, for the most part. If there are things Jaskier wants to know, he'll have to start the conversation himself. ]

[cointosser]

[It is a terrible thing, he thinks, that even a bard as magnanimous in his words and talented in his verses as he could not really describe what the Horizon is, what it has done to him... or what it feels like to return from it. Perhaps he may ask Hector (now he remembers his name) about it. If he knows if this is akin to returning from the dead.

Feels like it. Ugh.

For once, Jaskier doesn't really want to... well. Talk. And he's quite certain many of the people he met do not wish to talk to him. (They will. Eventually.) It only makes sense that the first person he goes to is someone that, even in that liminal space, he trusted blindly. At least that doesn't bring up any sort of mixed feelings or minor existential crises. Despite being an absolute bastard sometimes, and stinky to boot, Geralt is his friend. On the Continent, in this world, and apparently in the next.

Jaskier sours at the thought. He knows Geralt would never agree.

So he doesn't even bring it up at first. He gathers Geralt from the cells (somehow surprised to see they are allowed out still) with the excuse of transporting tomes back and forth from his room to the library.

Only when they sit down and he's dragged his fingers through messy hair (certainly messy for Jaskier) that he sighs and breaths in and speaks.

Tries. He sort of cracks out a sound that's a bit of a wheeze.

It's a lot. All of this magic shit. Speaking of. Jaskier flicks a few fingers and, though it certainly isn't creating caravans and fake people and bottles of wine -- gods, he misses the wine -- it does create a little blue bird that hops over the books, pecks at Geralt's hand, and flies off to act as sentry on top of their bookish wall.

Easy questions first.]

You do remember all of it, don't you?

[gynvael]

[ He spares only a brief glance at the hollow bird. His focus is shit. He hates that it is. He's read this damn page six times. Focus is almost never an issue with him, and when it is, it makes him irritable in a way that's hard to explain. Makes him feel like a wagon with a single square wheel.

He lets out a breath. Jaskier's question hangs in the air for a minute before he answers. ]

Mm. [ He can't muster a dry remark. What's there to say? He knows what Jaskier saw. Knows Jaskier met the girl; found him lost when she vanished. Jaskier understands more than anyone what it all means. And he doesn't want that. He doesn't want Jaskier to see, to understand; it's too sharp, too bright, too...

Too much. (It hurts. That's the simple truth of it. His heart is weighted and hollow all at once.) ]

Some have returned. [ Most probably see it as an easy reprieve from their cells. Geralt would have, too, if all that had been there was a cabin and some fucking snow. ]

[cointosser]

Mm. A single syllable that tells him a lot. Oh boy. This. This is shit. Not that it isn't utterly delightful to learn more about one's friends, but not in this way. Not in way that -- Jaskier himself feels as if he's been throttled about in his skull.

He was right to be afraid of the powers here. That someone can step into their minds so easily -- take away everything that made him him. He had not been afraid of not knowing himself in that place, and yet now the memory of that feeling was enough to freeze his blood.

This must be worse for someone like Geralt, he thinks, who shares so little of himself. And yet. And yet most distinctly does Jaskier remember that Geralt was...

He was happy. Well. Happier. Without memories.

For a while. It was the two of them, meeting every spring, and the small gifts Jaskier would bring for a girl whose face he could not recall, even now. But he could remember the physicality: the flower crowns, or the jugs of mountain water, or the handful of tiny dragon teeth. And he could leave, knowing she was protected and Geralt wasn't alone.

Gods. How obvious it is now. Why Jaskier always traveled with the White Wolf.]

It doesn't mean anything. [He glances across the tomes to watch Geralt's face, having also wasted far too much time on the same page. And, so far, he can find no information about the Horizon.] That she was there. It doesn't mean she's not still on the Continent.

[It feels hollow as he says it. His words don't mean anything, really, either. He can guess -- quite accurately -- what Geralt believes now. Why the girl faded and he was left alone.]

[gynvael]

Don't.

[ It comes out sharper than he intends. He gets it. Jaskier wants to be hopeful. Wants to reassure him. But that's not what Geralt wants. That's not how he works. He can't cling to an unknowable thread. It doesn't fucking make him feel better.

Jaskier is wrong: it means everything. Because whether he recalled her or not, she came from some part of him that knew. That has known, for weeks now, that she can't have survived all this time. Not that close to Sodden. Not in those woods, so near to Nilfgaard's scorching path of war. And the truth was, he'd largely accepted this long before the Horizon. It's not the fact that he knows she's gone. It's that he remembers now a time when she was not. A time when she was his, a time when he'd protected her.

A time when he could believe, genuinely, he hadn't failed her. ]

She has not survived alone for over two months with an army on her trail. [ The words sit heavy between them. It's the first time he's said it out loud to Jaskier. He doesn't look up, flipping through more pages. ] And we have more immediate concerns in this world.

[cointosser]

[The answer is about what he expects. He pushes the tome off of his lap with a sigh, sitting back in his chair. It creaks ominously under the shift, which certainly suits the mood. The only thing to make the air even sweeter is if the bloody thing collapses underneath him. Perhaps it's cursed against Suns.

He can't say what makes it come to his mind. Well, it may not be that strange. That the Horizon has tempered him in some way. Do you think it's foolish? Sam's cool, easy voice. The simplicity of the question. It had not been a judgement, either way.]

Call me an idiot, then. You always do. I choose not to believe that way, whether it's true or not. [His bird chirped, hopping down to land on his head, pecking at bits of his hair and tugging at them. It, predictably, was true. It was only... it was Destiny, and why would Destiny have brought them together if only to rend them apart in the stupidest way possible? One has to believe in something. Why not the same force he believes brought them here together?

He flicks his fingers, crafting a second bird. Ah. All that time training, and look what he can do now. Nothing, in particular, helpful.

Oh, gods. Did the Horizon somehow make an optimist of him?] Well, my threatening friend, did you come up with anything? You're still a prisoner, and my pleas are not making a difference. And now Ambrose has confirmed that which was only a hypothesis before. Who's to say he won't make the rest of us prisoners soon enough?

[Nope. Not fully an optimist.]

belle.

[gynvael]

[ As loath as he is to admit it, Jaskier was right to drag him back to his room and let him nap. His head, at least, is less stuffed with straw. He's not eager to go back to occupying his corner of the cell. Can't be helped, though; he ignores the ever-increasing crowding he's been feeling, and finds a space between the beds where he has a modicum of solitude.

Geralt doesn't expect any other visitors. Nor does he want them, really. He's said all he wants to with Jaskier and Sam both. But when he spots a woman with dark hair and blue eyes peering between the bars, he can't help paying attention. Hard to say for sure -- the description Jaskier granted him could fit any handful of folk (quietly pretty and brunette only gets him so far) -- but her face is new to him. So. Hmm. Perhaps it is her.

In any case, it's enough for Geralt to take notice where he normally wouldn't bother. ]

Looking for someone?

[dreamtofheroics]

Not exactly.

[ not someone specific. the truth is that Belle is always looking to do what she can down here. it worries her (it should worry all of them) that so many prisoners are still in cells, and Thorne's treatment of them will never sit right with her. she'll never understand how they could expect to achieve anything like this, especially when the last time she was brought into a world and imprisoned, it was intended as an act of revenge.

Thorne claims to need them and still treats them this way.

she doesn't mean to linger when she catches sight of Geralt. he's unfamiliar in the sense that they haven't spoken before, but there's something oddly familiar about him, too. a description of a man who her roommate genuinely worries for, someone he's known for a long time.]

I was looking to help, if I could. But you - [ she isn't sure how to explain it, so she just smiles warmly - as if she's greeting an old friend. anyone who is important to Jaskier is someone she'd like to extend her friendship to as well.] You're from the same world as Jaskier, aren't you?

[gynvael]

[ Geralt looks back, waiting for her to finish drawing what conclusions she might. When she finally says Jaskier's name, the confirmation sends a flicker of knowing across his face. ]

I am. [ He leans against the wall behind him. He studies her a little more closely. Not someone he met in the Horizon. That's a relief, in all honesty. More than enough saw him as he was in that place. ] You're Belle. He mentioned.

[ Jaskier makes friends easily, but few he would send Geralt's way or tell him to keep an eye out for. Few that he knows Geralt would care to speak to. That Belle left a certain impression on the bard has his interest. ]

[dreamtofheroics]

Yes, I'm one of his roommates. [ a word that still feels strange to her (she's never had a roommate until now, never even a cellmate), especially down here. she's tried to sort out what this kingdom could be thinking, leaving so many of the summoned in the dungeon, but in the end, it's not the kind of decision that Belle wants to be able understand.

but while she empathized at first, it's quickly escalated into all of their choices being questionable.]

I wish you weren't down here, but I am glad to finally meet you. [ if she can't change the circumstances, she'll just take all of this one moment at a time. the more they learn about each other, the easier it'll be for them to look out for their little group.

and yes, that means she thinks she ought to look out for Jaskier and Geralt, too. protecting someone isn't always a matter of size and strength.]

[gynvael]

[ Ah. They share a room. So that's where Jaskier met her. He isn't entirely certain what to think of her yet, but he's willing to take her at face value -- in part because Jaskier seems to trust her. He can see it, maybe. A sincerity not everyone has. ]

Could be worse. Free roof. [ He stretches out his other leg. Despite the dryness in his words, it's not as easy as it'd been before to pretend like he isn't damn tired. It feels like all the sleep in the world won't cure him.

The word finally, though, catches his attention. A flicker of both curiosity and amusement crosses his features. ] He's been telling that many stories of me already?

[dreamtofheroics]

[ a roof under these circumstances isn't anything more than a cage, but she keeps that thought to herself. it takes strength to reach some kind of tolerance for all of this. if he's found it, she doesn't want to make things worse.]

Well I had hoped to come see you after we spoke about you, but that was just before our time in the Horizon. [ forgetting who she was had prevented her from making a trip down to see him. not to mention how their time there had complicated things for all of them, Belle included.] Jaskier did seem hesitant to talk about you at first.

[ she adds that because she thinks she ought to, since Geralt seems used to Jaskier and his stories, and she did initiate the original conversation hoping that having someone to talk to would be a comfort to him at the time.]

Once he found out I've been trying to help people down here, he told me about you.

[she shrugs, though her gaze doesn't leave him.]

I was imprisoned by an evil queen back in the Enchanted Forest. I don't want any of you to think that you're in this alone.

sam + geralt pt2.

[falcony]

[ it's a few days later that sam is heading back down into the dungeons. he's been busy, what with all the new additions arriving through ambrose's little recruitment exercise, and all the added drama that had caused. sam is still trying to wrap his head around peter parker and what that is all supposed to mean, but it's fine. it's been fine. he feels a little guilty for not coming down and seeing geralt before then, but he can only imagine how it's been down in the cells as well.

it eats away at him, how many more there are now. how many more are down here and shouldn't be. he knows they're still working away on the top level, that he and phoenix and the others have been trying to get as many out as possible. but it's not moving fast enough, none of it is, and it least sam feeling somehow both guilty and also restless.

he's a little lost in thought down that path of things to worry about when he thinks...well. he swears he hears jaskier, calling something just up ahead. and when he closes the last however much of the hallway to geralt's cell, he's now 99% sure jaskier is there, right around the corner, talking to...someone else? ]

Uh. [ sam looks down the pathway and then back to geralt, who is already standing near the door. ] Was that Jaskier? Is something happening? [ a pause, while sam tries to get a better look and finds he can't see anything from where he's standing. not enough of anything, at least. ] If now's a bad time I can come back...

[gynvael]

[ When Sam comes around the corner, Geralt already has his head tipped back against the wall. Maybe it says all that needs to be, that he's not bothered to stop the bard from running off. He's too fucking tired to deal with any of this; part of him thinks he's too fucking tired to even deal with Sam's normally easy company. Who is not an unwelcome sight but—

The noise he makes towards the ceiling neither confirms nor denies it's a bad time, but it's certainly some kind of time.

If not for the cell, he'd have likely told Sam to come back. And Geralt has never ask to step out, from anyone. He's warned Jaskier not to come for him too often, cautious of how much attention it might draw. But there are three other people here, guards all around as tense as ever, and the walls pressing are especially oppressive. The distinct feeling that he does not want to be here surges.

He takes a deep breath. It is, possibly, the first time he's asked anything of Sam. ] Could we walk?

[falcony]

[ sam is...entirely unsure of what is happening. he can still hear what he is not convinced is definitely jaskier, speaking to someone off around the corner. but it's the image geralt shows him, with his head tilted back and an expression of complicated exhaustion, that has sam's attention.

and when he asks - well. yes. that is just about the first thing geralt's asked of him, isn't it? his eyes widen a bit at the request. ]

Wha-? Oh. Yeah. For sure. [ sam goes about whatever method it is that he's taken geralt out time and time again, whether it's a key he himself carries or the guard who has to step in. either way, when the door is open, sam will step back to give room to geralt, curiously looking down the hall one last time before his eyes move back to the other man. what is happening? and what could it be to possibly make geralt want to get out of here so badly? will geralt even tell him? sam wonders, briefly, and then realizes that while his curiosity is through the roof, he doesn't need to know if the other man doesn't want to explain.

content with that line of thought for himself, sam gestures back up the stairs. ]

C'mon, let's get out of here.

[gynvael]

[ Half of him is expecting to be denied; the tension down here is sharp as a wire. Sam works his magic, though, and Geralt avoids saying anything else as he follows Sam upstairs to pretend to do -- whatever it is he told the guards he needed a prisoner for. This is not a topic he wants to get into. Not least because Geralt barely knows what in the hell it means himself. Feels as though he's been trying to catch up for the last few days, turning in his head all the shit Cirilla told him like the pieces were finally going to click in place. Like he'll finally discover something that gets them all out of here in one piece, and back home, and fix whatever's gone so fucking wrong.

He walks for awhile in silence, making vague sounds to anything that Sam might say to him. For all that he's putting it off, Geralt already knows he'll tell him. He will, because there's something that he needs from Sam, and he can't ask it of him if he doesn't actually tell him what's happening. But fuck if he sincerely doesn't want to. Informing Jaskier was one thing. Jaskier already knows about the child. Sam is...makes it complicated. ]

Back in that place. There was a girl. [ He says it abruptly, ignoring whether or not he happens to be interrupting Sam in the process. ] You remember her? [ And then, almost without waiting for an answer, as though he just wants to get it out with: ] She's here.

[falcony]

[ there is a half of a second where sam, too, is worried they’ll be denied. it’s impossible to ignore the tension that has been rising among the people down here, impossible to ignore the violence bubbling under the surface of the guards. sam hates how familiar it feels, how he knows what those eyes look like. he needs to get these people out of here before something happens that he can’t stop…

but for now - he’s down to see geralt. or, perhaps, he might have been down for mal. for peter. but at that look from geralt, any other plans are gone, and sam is relieved when the guard finally steps forward and unlocks the door. the reason this time around is something about a job, some kind of physical labor - he’s found that tends to get the guards to agree faster, more often. labor makes sense, no matter if they know geralt or not.

sam chats, because that’s what they generally do. they walk, sometimes sit, sam will give geralt any update he’s heard around the castle or any gossip he’s had come his way. geralt generally listens, makes noises in agreement or dissent, and then they go on. the only difference now, and it only takes sam a few moments to realize geralt is listening at all.

part of him gets it, whatever happened down there must have been disruptive, and he wants to ask but…he will wait. see if it’s something geralt wants to talk about. so sam just keeps going without any real meaning. ]

And then Jaskier and I just went wild across town. Did you know he can make flying pigs now? We named one after you, handsome guy-

[ sam is just being ridiculous, of course, but he’s curious the limit to what geralt can actually hear.

and then the other interrupts, and any of sam’s earlier joking settles. a girl. ]

Cirilla, right? Yeah. I remember. [ sam remembers her playing in his home. laughing with his nephews. skipping across the field at geralt’s mountaintop. sam feels himself frown, because he remembers the warmth around that shadow of a memory, the fondness from geralt at every moment with her. none of that is here, now, with him, and that worries sam.

and then there’s that, and sam feels himself slow to a stop. eyes on geralt, brow furrowed in confusion. ] She is? [ that should be good, right? why does geralt look like he does? ] Welcomed, or…?

[gynvael]

[ His brain does briefly stumble over that (Jaskier can do what?), but then he's pressing on about Cirilla, and Sam begins to slow. Geralt matches his pace. It's another second or two before he answers. Sam's question is straightforward, and yet—not a damn thing about this feels straightforward. ]

No. [ Not welcomed. The weighted roughness around that one word says exactly how he feels about it. Says there's more than just the fact of her being imprisoned that's the problem.

Geralt finally stops walking altogether. They're ducked behind someplace private enough; he has one eye out for any passing servants or guards, but most of his attention is focused on Sam. A coiled tension runs through him that hasn't been present before, not even down in those tunnels: subtle, but there, in the slight furrow of his brows, the way his fingers press into the wall behind him a bit too hard.

Sam has no idea the girl is...was never meant to be. Geralt avoided the topic of her altogether the last time they spoke. The one he'd seen, the one he'd met—she wasn't built on any lingering memories of something real, like Sam's house, like his nephews. She was only a figment. Except now she's here. Real. What a fucking twist of Destiny. ]

She isn't a girl. Not anymore.