Geralt z Rivii (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gynvael) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
abraxaslogs2021-08-01 07:11 pm
gynvael) wrote in abraxaslogs2021-08-01 07:11 pm
( CLOSED )
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![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
discontinued! ))
sam wilson | jaskier | belle | sam wilson (ii)
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
no subject
sam’s mind starts spinning, thinking of a young girl down there. about the rising tension. about how the guards will take any possible excuse. he frowns. ]
Listen, I know it’s bad down there, but I can talk to Phoenix. Maybe-
[ because that’s where his mind goes - get her out. get her up top. of course ambrose should be open to letting children out of the dungeons, and even if it’s been a bit like talking to a brick wall-
except that doesn’t feel quite right. not with the way geralt is holding himself. not with how he’s acting. they dip into a more private spot and sam’s arms cross over his chest, the energy coming off of him very businesslike, prepared. if there’s an issue he’s waiting for geralt to share it, so they can tackle it together.
he almost asks, almost prompts geralt to keep speaking. hey, what’s going on? but he doesn’t need it, not this time, though the answer sam gets makes his frown deepen. ]
What do you mean? What is she?
[ listen, geralt, he’s sorry but sam’s world has gotten a little insane over just the last two months, nevermind the talking raccoons back home. he’s going to need a little more than that. ]
no subject
There's a decade between us. [ Out loud, it falls flat. Words can't capture the magnitude of what that means. Those years. It's a thousand things more than time lost.
He stops. He should stop. What need is there to say more? All Sam has to know is that Cirilla is important, that she's no longer a child, and that Geralt has a favour to ask of him. A favour that's apparently already accepted before it's even asked, when Sam says I can talk to Phoenix. (It no longer surprises him, Sam offering without hesitation.) A second ticks by. His fingers twitch. When he swallows he means to end there, to leave Sam room to respond. But he's kept everything to himself all this time and— ] I don't know her. To me, she was dead before we ever crossed paths.
[ His mouth snaps shut. Fuck. Releasing that eases little of the pressure inside him; whatever else threatens to bubble over, he pushes down. He fixes his gaze on Sam. He's been trying to move on this entire time. And now with Cirilla here—how can he? He doesn't know what to do. How he even feels. He can handle death. He's done it often. Learned how to carefully put it away. But this—this is something else. ]
no subject
years. its been years. so many of them, passing by in an instant, like they never happened at all. when i left, they were just babies. now they're little men. sam waits in those following moments if only because he's not sure what geralt needs. to listen, to step in, to help - but to help, there's also a layer that needs to be included there that involves geralt, in a way, accepting the fact he needs it. that there is something, anything, there he's struggling with at all.
and, somehow, it happens. geralt twitches, the words spill out, and then geralt shuts himself up. i don't know her. and despite the different lives they've both led, the different worlds they've been from, sam understands. he gets it. not just objectively, not just on paper - there is a kind of madness to the feeling, and sam, for just a moment, feels it wash back over him. that feeling of coming back, of being told five years had gone by. just like that. ]
But she's still her.
[ sam asks the question with a kind of ease and gentleness to the words that it could almost be mistakes for soft. except that there's nothing soft about the almost-grief underlying it. instead, it's buffered by a kind of apologetic understanding, somewhere in the way sam looks back at geralt, unsurprised. after a moment of holding geralt's eyes, sam gives him a kind of empathetic smile, complicated in the way it tilts, before sam exhales. ]
It feels weird, right? You didn't live those years and you didn't see it happen but she's still Ciri, somehow, even if you don't know why you know?
[ it's possible he's gone too far, with those questions. entirely possible that what geralt is dealing with isn't at all the same as what sam went through back home, but he takes the risk anyway. because the feeling is similar enough, he thinks. the feeling of losing your grip on your own life, because of the fact you simply didn't have control over the time you do or don't have. watching it skip, or jump, or change right in front of you. but sam has felt that, and the way geralt says she was dead before we every crossed paths. sam goes for it. jumps out on the ledge for just long enough to see how far the fall could really be.
( but then again - since when has sam ever been afraid of heights? ) ]
Not to be that guy, but did you actually see her die? Or do you just assume she did, because you weren't there to find her?
no subject
He and Cirilla should by all accounts be strangers. They've never spoken. He's seen her exactly once, blond hair hidden under a boy's cap, for a split second. And yet. Some part of her feels like his. He doesn't know why. If it's the Horizon, fucking with him, or Destiny, or something else altogether. A combination. The way she looked at him. As though he'd been the only thing that'd mattered the moment she'd seen him. For a second, at least, until she realized.
He sighs. His arms fold across his chest. It's difficult to put into words, how sure he'd felt, for that brief moment in the woods, until he'd been snatched off. And then he'd hoped, but—
After that much time, what else was he supposed to believe? ]
She had an army on her tail. [ He leaves it at that. Leaves out her home burning to ash, leaves out the death of her entire family. It's not his story to tell anymore, now that Cirilla is here to tell it herself. His gaze roams over Sam's face, like he's still searching for an answer to a question he isn't asking quite yet. He files it away to pick at later. If there is a later. Right now, there are more pressing matters on his mind. ]
It doesn't matter. [ He meets Sam's eyes. It's a favour, he knows, that he's asking. One that he isn't certain he can ever repay. ] I need to know if you'll help her.
no subject
because geralt does get it. he doesn't know how, or why, or if it's even possible - but he relates, and sam can see it. it's why sam lets out an exhale, one hand reaching up to rub a bit at his forehead. how does he even start? ]
Back home, something kind of like that happened to me. It wasn't the same, and it was only five years, but... [ does he even get into the trauma of simply not existing? of trying to find your footing in a world when everything else has moved on, but you? sam's hand drops back to his side. pulls himself back to what he meant to say to begin with. ] It sucks, and it's not easy. I'm sorry, man.
[ maybe the apology is a bit too much - geralt isn't one to appreciate them, when they're not actually accepting blame. but sam has said it, and he is sorry, in a way. that geralt is panicking like he is, struggling with something that in no real world anyone should ever have to deal with.
that's when geralt continues on, answering sam's question, and he nods. because okay, yes, an army on the tail of a child is something that he too would assume would mean death. but ciri is here, isn't she? which means she survives. and he's about to say as much when he notices the way geralt searches him, like there's something else there that he isn't quite asking. it doesn't matter geralt says, and sam takes a breath to argue - because it does matter, in this case - but geralt continues before he has a chance to say.
and it's that - that comment, that unasked for request, that has sam pausing. blinking, once, as there is a brief moment of confusion that crosses over him. ]
Of course. [ it comes easily, but with honest, genuine force behind it. like sam can't quite believe geralt would think he'd need to even ask. ] Whatever you need, whatever she needs, I'm here. [ there's a moment, there, where sam almost stops himself. but something in him bubbles out before he can stop it, his eyes still on geralt's, unyielding. ] No matter what.
no subject
Geralt stares at Sam, distracted for a good thirty seconds. He's known Sam's life was full of its own complications—of a war he's glimpsed—but somehow, Sam effectively telling him this same thing occurred to him is...nearly absurd. To say the least. The fuck are the chances? He wants to ask, but he can't find the right question. Where does he begin? The part where Sam mentions it isn't the same, or the fact that he almost glosses over saying it, as if it's simply an event that has a risk of occurring?
There's a conversation here, he thinks, that needs to be had when they're not both dealing with. Everything. All of this shit.
The heaviness of Sam's answer distracts him in a different way, in any case. Geralt blinks once. He hadn't thought Sam would refuse, but this is more than a man agreeing to help. And yeah. He remembers what Sam told him the last time they spoke. It's one thing to hear it in that single moment and another to see how much Sam means it. For awhile, Geralt doesn't know what to say. An extraordinarily small number of people exist who he understands would go to great lengths for him. Each of them are intimately aware of who and what he is. Sam is...not. Not really. Not in the way that matters.
But now is not the time to crack that surface. So despite the shadow that flits over his gaze, he only nods. If he can know Cirilla is safe, he'll take it. Out of everyone, she's...it feels like she's the one he's failed too many times. ]
She doesn't deserve to be there. [ There's an implication that Geralt is leaving himself out of that category.
That he owes Sam a favour in return sits on the tip of his tongue, but he holds it back. It's gone a bit beyond that, hasn't it? Owing one. Whether Geralt intended it or not (and he hadn't, at all), they've moved into something else. ] If you ever need me, you'll have me.
no subject
god, and here sam thought having to explain tony stark's death had been difficult. he should have known ambrose would find others ways to make their lives complicated.
after he responds to geralt, there are a few moments of silence. moments that sam almost wonders what is going through geralt's mind. it shouldn't come as a surprise. sam has tried to convince him of this very thing - that he's here, that he wants to help, that he'll do anything to make that known. sam's serious expression holds while geralt processes, if only because sam briefly starts to wonder if he should be getting annoyed - that geralt still doesn't believe him.
sam could argue that no one down in the dungeons deserves to be there, witcher included, but he chooses not to start that self-guilt argument today. instead, sam simply shakes his head. ] No, she doesn't. [ and that's the truth. whatever it is ambrose believes her to have done, or be, she doesn't deserve to be caged like that, none of them do, but sam does still feel that fondness, the shadow of a girl laughing upstairs in his home. he feels himself frowning more, just thinking about it - decade difference or no, that connection is still there, just like it is for every person, shadowed or no, he had stepped into his home. sam's caught on that thought, of the feeling, of how he realizes ciri is so closely wrapped up in how he feels about his own nephews, that when geralt speaks again it actually catches him mid-thought.
you'll have me. sam takes a moment to simply blink at geralt, to recognize what it is he means by saying that. the genuine nature of the words, themselves. then, once the moment passes, sam feels a small smile break through the earlier downcast look. they have moved past favors, moved much further beyond owing the other in return for an outstretched hand. ] I know. [ because he does know, somehow. understands that even if it hasn't been that long at all, that the moments they have actually shared have been forced associations, trauma bonding. but when sam looks at geralt it's not even a question of what lengths he'd go to, what he would do if asked, of need be. and sam is okay with that - comfortable with that. ]
And you've got me.
no subject
He lets out a breath. Somehow, knowing Sam's in his corner—he's used to handling shit on his own, but. He can't deny it isn't worth something—worth a lot—having someone he can say he trusts and mean it. Especially here and now. An understanding passes between them, unspoken, and he's grateful for it.
He pushes off the wall where they've ducked in to talk. No reason to overstay his brief taste above the dungeons. Right now, it's the most useful asset he has, the ability to still speak to a guest in relative privacy. A surprising one he's still afforded, all things considered. ]
Should return soon. Their people have been ill at ease these days.