( 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

[falcony]

I don’t know if simple and peaceful count as the same thing.

[ but sam doesn’t sound, necessarily, like it’s something he wants to argue. if anything, it sounds a bit like a shrug. he doesn’t fault geralt for wanting simple, considering how complicated life tends to be. and doesn’t sam know it? how much easier would his life be if things were more simple? if he didn’t have governments to abide by, laws by people with agendas, the unsteady tip of the power balance in his home country? there’s a path he could have taken, a long time ago, that would have given him a simple life. a life where he hadn’t opened his back door, hadn’t pulled out his file, hadn’t jumped head first into uncharted territory.

except that sam knows he wouldn’t have been happy. knows that something would have always been missing. he wonders if geralt considered how much simpler his life would be without the monsters to kill, but then again, sam thinks back to the horizon. to geralt’s domain. that had been peaceful - not simple, not at all - but complete. satisfying. home.

the feeling of that place has stayed with sam. the mountain air. the hearth. how ciri had wandered through it, happy, free in a way. it’s why sam brings it up. why he thanks geralt, in that moment. and when he sees the look he gets in return, sam shrugs a shoulder. ]

For what happened in the Horizon. [ sam wonders, briefly, if he has to specify the invite. the time spent. the fact that beyond his own space, beyond his place as captain and his home, geralt’s mountain had been the only time he’d taken. the only thing he’d seen.

except it’s more complicated than that, isn’t it? and maybe geralt deserves more of an explanation. so sam sits up again, taking a breath. it’s not that he’s uncomfortable as he speaks, so much that sometimes this isn’t easy. opening up. building a bridge. ]

None of us knew what was happening in there. We didn’t have the tunnels, or our fun chats out here, or anything - we were, literally, strangers. But you showed up for dinner- and not like how everyone else did. [ okay, this is more complicated than sam originally thought it would be. he purses his lips together, trying to find the words, before he keeps going. ] People came by and felt like they were part of the family. They all felt like home. And I liked that- I mean, I kind of get why my subconscious or whatever would make that place. It’s my family home, you know? It’s always been like that.

[ except that’s not what sam is getting at, and after a moment he huffs out another breath. looks at geralt with something a little more serious, but still with that warmth. ]

You were the only one who asked me to come to yours. And I don’t mean like how everyone wandered through that place- not like that. I mean, you asked me to visit. And I did. [ sam, for a moment, pauses - if only because he’s not exactly sure how to put into words the feeling of it. of the night or so he spent there, of the time he had. it hits him once again how good it had felt, just to be there, yes, but more than that, too.

his eyes fall to the grass in front of him for a moment. ] I guess I didn’t know how much I needed it? [ a beat, as he presses his lips together. ] To get away from the house. Not because of anything bad- I think the worst thing that happened was Coraline nearly set the kitchen on fire but even then…no. I just mean getting away. Out for a while. Because it felt good, like, really good. And it helped. And I wouldn’t have known I needed it if you hadn’t have asked me to come. So.

[ and just like that, any of the tension in sam’s shoulders falls away. he looks back to geralt with a smile, easy, casual. it’s no big deal, you know? he’s just thanking a friend. ]

Thank you for that.

[gynvael]

[ Makes him wonder what it means, that he pretty much expected Sam to say that. Guess he's starting to get to know him better—which isn't unwelcome. Not exactly. Different might be the word. Surprising. He isn't someone who trusts quickly, and though he knows weeks is no small amount of time for others, especially in a place like this, for him, it is.

Speaking of surprising. Geralt turns to study Sam while he answers. The man obviously has a lot on his mind; Geralt lets him finish without interrupting. Takes his time absorbing what Sam's saying because—

It isn't at all what he thought he'd hear. Not that Sam's been anything other than friendly towards Geralt. It's merely, Sam is friendly with everyone. Geralt's presumed it's just who Sam is. The type of man where it'd take a lot more than a prickly bastard to turn away. He sure as hell hasn't given thought to that casual remark he'd made about Sam going north. Hasn't imagined at all it meant anything much, that he'd told Sam to come by some time. He'd done it, simply because it felt like what he'd want if it were him: to get away, wander the roads. What was the purpose of a home if you didn't leave it?

Home has never been a place to stay for Geralt. It's a place to return to. Where he knows the doors will always be open no matter how long he's been away.

In the end, he only nods. Yeah. He gets what Sam's trying to say. And if he's helped, he supposes it isn't important whether he fully grasps the reasons behind it. It only matters that Sam found something worthwhile in trekking up that snowy path. ]

I should thank you, too. For... [ For more than the Horizon, really. ] All of it.

[ There's a pause as he searches for the words. For what he really wants to say. Geralt prefers to leave things unspoken. They have an understanding. That's enough, usually. Somehow, in this moment, he feels like there's more he should say. More he wants to say, where he might normally not go there. ]

That house. The things in it. The people. [ He lifts his eyes towards Sam. ] It's the same outside of that place, too?

[ Because his hadn't been. Not the cabin, the forest with its blooming lilacs in the midst of winter. Not the wolves or Cirilla. What he'd made for himself felt like...stuffing straw into holes. Nothing that was meant to last. Nothing that he actually ever had. ]

[falcony]

[ sam realizes after the fact that he's been talking quite a bit. that without really meaning to, he'd gone on and on about things he'd been thinking about, things he'd been considering. he's sure geralt didn't expect an explanation at that level, but some part of sam needed to say it. all of it. not to expect anything in return, but to just have it spoken aloud. geralt studies him all the while and part of sam almost prepares himself to shrug it off - to offer a don't worry about it, i just wanted to say it, we can move in. he's run into his fair share of people uncomfortable with simple thanks. he's used to that.

except that geralt doesn't try to shy away from it. he takes what sam says and simply nods in return. accepting it. sam is a bit caught off-guard by that, if only because he'd really been expecting the other response, so much that when geralt turns the conversation around - thanking him in return - sam almost tells him not to worry about it. almost says it's no big and fulfills the exact response he'd thought he'd get himself. thankfully, sam catches himself before he does, and instead gives geralt a nod in return. because okay - yes. he can accept thanks, just as easily as he gives it. or maybe not as easily, but.

the question about the house, in turn, causes sam to pause. to think about to his home, the yard, the trees surrounding. the off-putting nature of the photographs, and how the overwhelming feeling of the place had covered even that. sam laughs gently at the idea of it and then nods again. ]

It's smaller, in real life. And definitely needs a lot more fixing up than the one in there. [ he'd been planning on getting to that fresh coat of paint. the creaky floorboard. the part of the porch that was starting to splinter. all on his list, for when he was home. all left undone, now that he's here. ] Also, the photos had actual people in them. But the rest of it...yeah. My sister and my two nephews live there, but it's just about the same.

[gynvael]

[ He's waiting, a little, for Sam to say more. He's glad when there's only a nod in return. Not for anything, just. It's simpler when there's no need to say much out loud. He knows Sam appreciates what he did, for the man's own reasons, and Sam knows Geralt feels the same way. Nothing else past that is necessary. Even if Geralt hasn't specified exactly what for or why, after all the help Sam has offered him over the past few weeks, he's only now chosen to acknowledge it out in the open. Maybe because things feel...unsteady. Taut. Frankly, he's less and less confident each day about how many more he'll see. About which conversations will be his last. He's left enough loose ends back home. Rather not add more while he's here.

He files away what Sam says of his family home: another piece of the puzzle that makes up the man before him. Sam is a curiosity to him. Different from nearly everyone else Geralt has met -- and Geralt's damn good at reading people. He can tell there's not anything he's missing. What he found inside that home by the water only confirms it. Sam really is just...this. He's not sure what to make of that. Or how it is he's gotten to be on the receiving end of Sam's gratitude. And he's not ready to push it away right now, this hand that Sam has extended him, but he can't help but think, either: how long before Sam realizes there's so much fucking more shadowing him than a man who hunts monsters, with the ghost of a girl and a neat little cabin on some snowy hills? Perhaps it doesn't matter. He knows himself well enough to understand how Sam looks at him will not change how he feels about Sam in return. Because he'd get it. Wouldn't blame him for it. He's not expecting anything different should they cross that bridge.

His gaze drops away again. He draws his good leg up, letting his arm rest on his knee. ] Are you worried for them? Without you there?

[ He realizes, then and there -- as the question leaves him -- that he wants Sam to go back. To that house, with his sister and nephews inside. That it gnaws at him, the fact he can't do anything. He's just trapped, with an ever-growing list of people who make it harder and harder for him to stick by his decision to do what he needs to, cost be damned, to get he and Jaskier out of this shit. Fuck, how does he always find himself here? Wanting more than he knows can be done? When he's more than aware of how these things always turn out? ]

[falcony]

[ maybe there really is more for sam to say. maybe, knowing that the stage is set for words to be brought and for their messages to be heard, he should start in on all the things he had meant to say at other times that he'd held back. except that in the moment, here, in the silence exchanged as the two of them nod, in the understanding that floats in the air among the breeze, sam is alright with the silence. okay with what he maybe should bring up, but can't seem to find it in him to say. it's also possible that he simply doesn't have to - and that's an interesting thing to consider.

though he guesses he's not one to judge. he's made much faster friends than this.

plus, it's always been easy to talk about home. or, more specifically, it's always easy to talk about his family with people he can trust the information with. and honestly, it's been a while, now. not two years a while, definitely not five years, but longer than sam wanted to go, after everything he's already put her through. the thought of it, on top of the question that geralt finally asks, puts something of a somber smile on sam's face, a distant look in his eyes. ]

Every day. [ and its the truth, though geralt has no reason to think otherwise. sam misses sarah and the boys more now than he think he ever has, and that is in part because of his own guilt - leaving her so suddenly, having her work, on her own, for so much. she never should have had to do a fraction of what was put on her, and here he goes once again, vanishing on another mission. disappearing, after putting up so much of a stink, for another fight.

sam sighs, then, his eyes drifting off somewhere to the grass again. not on anything specific, but somewhere else. and then, moments later, sam blinks and he's back again - here, rather than somewhere else. ] But even when I was back there, I was away more than I was home with the job. [ he hasn't exactly told geralt about the whole avenger thing, or about the blip, being on the run. he saw a portion of it in the caves, which sam guesses should be enough to piece it together. sam runs a hand over the back of his head. ]

I guess that's kind of what makes it home, though. Something for you to come back to, to fight for. [ he shrugs. ] And my sister - Sarah - she's made of tough stuff, I know she can handle it. I just... [ wish i could be there more. ]

[gynvael]

[ The job, Sam says, and Geralt's expression is understanding in that way that can only brush the surface. He doesn't know what it's like to leave home and family behind, for the sake of something more important. He doesn't know what it is to see home like that, as something to fight for. Perhaps once: long ago, if he'd been there before, when Kaer Morhen stood tall, he might've felt the same. But inside its crumbling walls, home and his people within it have become swallowed not by any enemy that can be fought, but simply time.

For a minute, he's quiet. ] Sometimes making certain you come back is the only choice you can make.

[ He gets it now, why Sam's space had been so wrapped up in what it was. Why that sense of protection had permeated every corner. Why it'd been the only place Geralt had not looked twice to see where Cirilla had gone. Is that what stood out? More than anything? It had. He realizes it now, what it is that'd struck him. How it'd been both so open and yet so undeniably safe. Because until Geralt had stepped into that house, it'd never occurred to him those two concepts could exist at the same time in one place.

Some part of him has wondered, too, how much of his little cabin was driven by memories of his own childhood home long forgotten. Does he even carry any images of it that can be called a memory? Does it matter? The thought leaves him uneasy, a box he's opened that should stay closed. It's always felt as if he's had two childhoods: the one that he cradled briefly, like a faded dream, and the one that actually shaped him. He's buried the first, mostly—and still, every so often, he feels it surfacing. ]

[falcony]

[ sam can tell that geralt doesn't necessarily agree with him. which is okay, really. sam's seen enough from geralt to know that, at the very least, where geralt comes from leaves a complicated feeling around the word 'home'. but at the same time, sam thinks about geralt's domain. what it had felt like to step in there. it had been welcoming, like sliding into a worn coat during the first night of winter to find it all still working, still as you remembered it.

he appreciates the fact geralt tries to look understanding, but that is a moment where it feels obvious to him that they come from different places. different worlds. just thinking about geralt back home around the other avengers, well. honestly, he'd fit in pretty damn well in delacroix, but that is besides the point. it's wild. funny. interesting. how far sam has come and where he finds himself now.

sitting in the grass with geralt of trivia. talking about sarah. about home. sam nods at geralt's observation, about coming back. it makes him ache for his parents, who he wasn't around nearly enough before they died. makes him think about sarah, raising two boys on her own, while he didn't exist. they're all things that weigh on him, day to day, week to week. but it's just one more thing, at this point. one more pound to the weight of the life he's chosen to lead. ]

We can always try. [ sam says quietly, because it's not like him to feel so somber. to want to follow up with if we come back at all. images of riley flash by, steve, natasha. but again, that's not like him, he's not one to wallow, so after a moment of the grief taking hold, sam takes a breath and then lets it out again, pushing that darkness with it. acknowledging, and then letting it go.

when he looks back to geralt the next time, it's with a small smile. sam has, obviously, moved on conversationally. ready to change the topic. ]

So. [ and then the small smile grows a little, almost joking. ] When were you going to tell me about Roach?

[gynvael]

[ Sam seems lost in thought, so Geralt decides against interrupting. If we come back at all needn't be said aloud. He can't imagine it not being on anyone's mind. Even if he manages to leave the prison, what then? Something tells him Ambrose's spell wasn't created to be reversed. It's one thing to open a single door to pull people into one singular world. It's another to open dozens of extremely specific doors into a multitude of worlds.

The silence is not uncomfortable. Geralt lets it linger. Funny, that he's found such quick companionship in Sam but—in a way, it's difficult not to. With just how the man is. Or maybe Geralt simply needs this kind of company, more than he'd ever admit. The kind where he hasn't got to say much to be understood.

It isn't until Sam mentions Roach that Geralt turns his head. He raises an eyebrow. What. His horse? Yeah. Sam had met her. In the Horizon, walking up to his cabin, Roach had been there grazing in her stable. Even without conscious memories, he'd created Roach as the chestnut mare she'd always been. Missing the stripe down her face, though. She'd had a star instead.

He gives a small huff, and the corner of his lips quirk upward for a moment. ] Not much to tell. [ The way he says it suggests there's a lot he wants to tell. In truth, as small and inconsequential as it is—she's only a horse and one he's meant to outlive at that, just like all the mares before her—being in the Horizon, riding her: it reminds him of one more thing he no longer has. One more thing he misses. ] She's taken me far. [ He makes a vague gesture with his hand that's akin to a shrug. He's fond of her—that much comes across. ] Ask me another time.