abraxaslogs | [open] Late September/Early October catchall

It is a shame we can't have this setting in the waking world.

[Alucard's well aware that his hair is now spreading every which way in the water of the hot springs, and almost all of him has become obscured by steam. In fact, only his head is above the water at the moment, the wine glass he was holding onto early forgotten and abandoned in favor of dunking himself into the water entirely.

It speaks to Alucard's comfort that he's in a spring with someone else at all, Horizon or reality. But it's Jaskier. He trusts the bard, and frankly, the opportunity to relax is not one he'll take lightly right now. Between reconstruction and drawing his own blood for experimentation, it has been a very, very tiring few weeks.]

Does your house need any food restocked?

[It is the beauty of the Horizon that hair never floats its way over to him and sticks to his body, nor does the water ever stop flowing (seemingly from nowhere) into the warm pool they sit in, nor does it dirty or cool. It's a steady, warm temperature that turns Jaskier's skin pink, and he's already dunked his head several times to push his wet hair out of his face.

It's getting ridiculously long now. Though still nothing compared to Alucard's.]

Honestly. What I wouldn't give for cooler air and a hot spring. I think being in the desert so long is drying my skin.

[His head leans back against a perfectly positioned rock behind him, the picture of relaxation. It is a testament to how long their friendship has survived that Jaskier didn't even make mention of Alucard's naked body (even if he sneaked a peek at the scar across his chest... just to see how large it was.

"Too large" is the correct answer.)]

The bathhouses are nice enough, but sometimes one longs for the privacy of... I don't know. Nature. [He lifts his head. The nature he is used to (lush, thick forests) is certainly lacking around Cadens, and after their visit to Nocwich, that longing for green has reemerged in him. Even in the Horizon, relaxing at the base of Bleobheris's trunk, doesn't fulfill that longing entirely.

He stretches his legs out with a sigh.] Probably. Since I returned, we lost track of all our herbs and spices. Geralt and Ciri weren't hunting as much, I think... considering how often they bothered me in hospital. [He smiles at nothing except the memory of Geralt holding Mog up to this window.] I've mostly been popping into the bakery underneath us every morning to chew my way through several loaves of bread. Beyond that, my energy has been lacking.

[Truly, the worst part of the scar is that there is a deliberatness to it. It misses the heart. Other organs. The whole thing is calculated, meant to down but not kill.

Alucard's stopped thinking about that part a while ago. For now, it is easier to focus on how good the warm water feels against his skin, and how the steam curls up off the surface just so.]

I don't go to them at all because of that privacy concern. [This is a lie. He goes in the dead of night when no one else is there. No one else need know, or otherwise he takes advantage of his wolf form to just not worry about extensive grooming.]

I can come over tomorrow morning and do an inventory. Easy enough. [It is something to do and involves very little brain power.] Maybe actually make something meaty.

[The dhampir breathes out, reaching back towards where he knows his wine glass is. Probably.]

At least you have a reason for being lacking in energy.

[Jaskier shoots him a small smile.] With your usual appearance, I somehow doubt that.

[Alucard is bathing somewhere after those long excursions into the Hall's rebuilding, or else he isn't a bard. And where nicer than the bath houses? They do contain their own tub in their home, but it doesn't offer the same... atmosphere.

Though that is surely an atmosphere Alucard does not appreciate.

He wiggles his toes in the water. Even if this spring is not real, the way the warmth worms its path deep into his muscle feels it is.] I would not be opposed. Especially for meat! They had me eating mostly broth those first days.

[It was all right, for broth. But all he'd wanted was to return home and taste his own efforts.]

I suppose. [He lifts his head again, flicking a bang out of his face.] Are you feeling under the weather, too?

Lesser known vampiric power, as it happens. You look excellent more often than you don't, and if you groom yourself in one of your other forms, the effort transfer.

[Alucard's face is entirely serious, suggesting that he's not joking about this at all. Moreover, it does check out with his general aversion for being in public, never mind in a state of undress around others. Except for here and now, apparently.]

I'll take the long route through the market to your place, do the inventory, then go get what's needed. Easy enough.

[There is a long, long sip of wine before Alucard moves on to the next part. Understandable, given the topic.]

Weary is the better word, I think. Just participating in creating blueprints and construction in the face of...this. Worrying that there's more being lost than lives.

[Perhaps a season ago, Jaskier might've been inclined to at least indulge him for a moment. Now Jaskier only smiles and flicks a bit of water at that excellent look.] If that were true and you had not turned me into a vampire yet, I would not be so friendly with you anymore.

[Except he would even if Alucard were hideous, because he offers to do things like. This. And though Jaskier still finds some amusement in even a dhamphir placing so much emphasis on the importance and the joy of indulgence in eating, he is. Honestly. Thankful. Neither Ciri nor Geralt, though he adores them, are much in the way of gourmands.]

You are a gift. [And the smile he has is very thankful. He's not even sure what he can do in return, though he doubts Alucard expects anything. He's simply so... exhausted. Even his thoughts drag like legs after a long and ragged run.]

What could be worse than lives? [He reaches for his own wine; the glass rings gently when he knocks the stem against a rock, but the glass is as full as he needs it to be, lightly touched with the smell of blackberries. He takes a long draw, letting the fumes move through his nose, straight to his head.] No, I know what you mean. Now that the worst we feared has happened, it feels like it's become a matter now of... merely waiting. Waiting for it to happen again.

Oh, I doubt it. But I am sorry to say that my blood must stay firmly inside my body. Which, when one thinks on it, is where everyone's blood should be at all times.

[Only Jayce knows about the blood experiments with Viktor, and that was because the man would find out anyway. He's assumed that Jaskier knows nothing of Viktor's condition, and there's no real need for that to be any different. So he instead takes another sip of his wine, nodding in quiet acknowledgement that of course I'm a gift. He damn well is.]

What lives carry with them. [The easiest way to wrap so much up, in Alucard's opinion. They both know that the particular culture of Libertas is teetering right now. Vulnerable in ways it shouldn't be, and worse, not hardy enough to survive another attack or two.]

Doubtlessly. [He sighs, considering.] The artist who does the monumental sized sculptures. I imagine he must have warehouses for storage, correct?

I was about to say. [Alucard's straight tone in saying it actually pulls a laugh from him.] I'm rather sure blood should stay inside.

[He knows his friend must be going rather through Something since the visit to Nocwich, and whatever it is has him thinking of his blood, but -- perhaps he did finally find some answers. Or he's looking for more.

After a moment, Jaskier swirls his wind, and he goes sober again. What lives carry with them being weighed more than the lives themselves is a heavy topic to drop in a hot spring, and even heavier that he should consider truth to it. Some. Little. Because he has seen lives cut down because of what they carried in them. He was there as the druids were taken away. Was the art worth it?

Is this my fault?

He sets his glass down, splashing his face. Driving the thought of.] Axn Kade. I believe so. I mean, I would imagine so. I suppose I could inquire after it. Though I do wonder if the larger sculptures have survived... why do you ask?

[Alucard smiles in quiet agreement. It is awkward, just a little. He's going through something, that much is clear, and if asked he'd admit that he wasn't at liberty to say more. Telling Jaskier he has a secret and then not sharing feels like giving the bard catnip though, so he doesn't dare elaborate. Viktor's kept his illness close to his chest. The dhampir feels honorbound to ensure that privacy.

He must have brushed too close to something. Alucard frowns, but doesn't dare ask if Jaskier wants to discuss the matter. He instead focuses on the practical.]

If his warehouses are safe, or can otherwise make use of additional spells to ensure that, perhaps he might share the room with the art and work of others for a time?

[Luckily, trauma has mellowed out Jaskier enough that, while it's very clear Alucard is keeping something to himself, he no longer is driven by an animal-like obsession with sousing out exactly what it is.

He's learned that being friends with Alucard is always playing the long game.

And so those unsaid things remain unsaid.]

I don't see why not. And while I do understand your point, do you not think such magically-reinforced spaces should be used to house those who have no place to go, instead of art? [Even as he says it, he wrinkles his nose, sighing.] It is just as important to save that art that could be lost, but... I suppose some part of me has accepted the loss of culture during the machinations of war.

What do you think I have been doing when I've been in Libertas, Jaskier?

[Alucard reaches back for his wine glass, fingers dancing over stone and-- yes. There it is. He brings the drink forth effortlessly, but the way he cups his hands around the glass makes it seem as if he's treating it as a cup of tea for comfort, not a luxurious drink. Alucard never treats wine in such a way.]

The magic that built the Hall and lets it function has rhyming echoes for structural integrity and defense. I've been using that in rebuilding efforts, when I haven't been making blueprints for temporary housing. [The sip of wine is long. Tired.]

Both can be done. And I perhaps would like to be walking among more than death.

I don't ask. [His voice, when he responds, is softer. He doesn't ask not because he doesn't want to know, but because --

It's too much. If he was honest. If he allows himself that selfishness. He has not asked Nadine, nor Julie, nor Geralt. Nor Alucard. He both wants to know and does not want to know the details. He has only allowed himself to go as far as the Libertas kennels. When he returns home, it is back to Cadens. He does not linger in Libertas anymore.

It is strange to feel this distinct urge to suddenly escape. Since he broke down in front of Yennefer, he has only allowed himself to save face. To swallow it down.

Not because it's better. But because he is indulging in cowardice.]

Are you recreating its runes, then? [If that is the case, it may be something they could rope someone like Jayce into.] Far be it from me to forbid you to indulge. [There's little heat in the response. It is only an answer he finds, personally, a bit detached.] I do think it's an idea. There is no telling what Ellya's next move will be, but I thoroughly doubt this is the end of this conflict. The better prepared we are... well. The better.

[What a poet. Forgive him. He's rather lost a piece of his soul already.]

[Alucard has the grace to look properly embarrassed. Of course Jaskier wouldn't ask. Why should he? He's had to recover himself, and how much additional effort must it take to look at what is happening and not feel a burden of sorts? The dhampir's hands clamp down tighter around the wine glass, applying pressure that puts a crack in the glass. Hardly intentional, but it says everything.

He's gotten used to not feeling delicate over the past several months. The threat to return to the state makes every part of him hurt, even if the reasons are completely understandable.

Better to talk about the practical.]

Some of them. And there were others I came across in my research that have proven useful. It's such clever and practical magic, and there's-- [Hell, he's said as much to Ciri.] There's familiarity. The mechanisms that allowed my father's castle to move from place to place didn't operate on magic like this, but there are shared elements.

[He can at least redirect the conversation, if Jaskier's curiosity wins out. He hopes it will.] I'll...I don't know who I'll reach out to first. But I'll take care of it tomorrow.

[Jaskier hears the very distinct sound of cracking glass, but if he's honest, he's too tired to bring it up, either. Whatever he's done to set Alucard off, the dhamphir is still here, they are still relaxing, and Jaskier will forcibly create expert masseuses if he must to make sure they are relaxed.

Actually. Mm. That's an idea.

He smiles to himself, giving a nod. He's certainly let Alucard take on the bulk of the actual work, with construction, and reconstruction, and apparently rune study. Jaskier is there for the monetary side, and he has not failed to provide. (Well. Money, and occasionally showing up with Mog to encourage everyone.)] It's nice to see you so enthusiastic.

[That much is true. It's a rare gift to be given.] I don't exactly have a direct line to her, but Quilleth may be a reasonable goal, if she is not already swamped with work. [If she's still alive a voice at the back of his head provides.] And there are yet some empty rooms in Cadens still. We can start small if we must.

--Wait. [Alucard pauses, turning to face Jaskier. He just said something and the bard almost glossed over it? The dhampir blinks, tilting his head in one direction, then the other.] Did I just mention an entire castle that could change locations in a moment and you didn't even ask a second question about the concept?

[Now he's worried. Now he's very worried.] I'll ask Axn if he'd be willing to begin with. If he's not game, then there's no point to the rest.

Wait? [Jaskier blinks, too. Did he say something strange?

His mouth opens. "Oh." No, he didn't say something strange. Apparently the lack of saying something was the strange part. Jaskier tips his head back, sinking into the water until it reaches his chin, giving an amused little noise.] It may surprise you to hear I have learned new things during our time together, especially on how little detail you can give on most occasions. I suppose... I don't have the energy to pry right now.

[Or he's so tired he barely understood the words. Moving. Castle. A thing that would have sounded like the main ingredient of a fairy tale --]

Perhaps the soul shrivels when the body comes that close to death. [Alucard is making a good point, talking to Axn, and he adds his agreement with a nod -- but he's so caught up in the poetry of the moment, he continues on.] Or I'm beginning a slow, leisurely descent into a sort of madness. Which is a bit fun. I've heard a bit of madness can make one a better artist.

[No energy to pry. Alucard's total lack of a poker face shows here, and it's all worry. He doesn't reach out, because that feels like too many boundaries to be traversing in a day, but the noise he makes is worried and sympathetic. Because well. Been there.]

It withdraws for a time, out of a desire to protect itself. I can only speak from my own experiences on the matter, but...[He understands. Entirely.]

Sometimes, it's a path better walked alone. You can indulge in every feeling as it comes. Maybe it makes better art. Or maybe it just gives you something to try and outrun. That's all it ever did for me.

[He smiles in return, not only for the sound of sympathy (a sound he deeply understands), but for Alucard's words. They're poetic, and more importantly, they sound true. The soul withdraws.

Yes. Yes, that's how he feels. It is buried deep within him, waiting, as he merely survives. He has not even looked at his book of songwriting since he returned, and it is only now it even occurs to him. Art is not churning in his head at the moment. Lyrics do not dance between his ears.

But at least this time, Jaskier feels he can accept it. Not as if the muses are leaving him, but they understand how the soul can wither. That he is being given.... a vacation.

Of sorts.]

I am very terrible at running when it counts. Geralt can tell you. Well -- I can run quite fast, when death is involved, without tripping. I may be underselling myself a bit. [He laughs, and though it's quiet, it is pure. Not even sarcastic. A start!] No, no. You're right. You're perfectly right. I feel a bit of an epitome on the tip of my tongue. That my soul needs this... time to withdraw. So I can.... process. [Which is certainly something to say when he pokes at its deeper meaning. "I'm learning coping mechanisms to survive oncoming trauma." Whew. War really does a number on a man, doesn't it?]

Well. Since you brought it up. Are you going to elaborate on your moving castle? Are you going to end up inventing a cave that can... I don't know, bury itself under ground and pop up elsewhere? That would be fun, too.

It's not linear. [Processing, he means. That's the only way Alucard can describe what it felt like, being alone in the castle. Oppressed by death and memory on all sides.] And there's no other comforting words I have. Just that it is, and recognizing it helps in centering oneself. I did not have that outside perspective.

[Because Alucard is a sad idiot who lives alone. He'll leave it there, unless Jaskier wishes to return to the subject.]

I'd like that for the cave, but it may be a little bit down the road due to other obligations. [Viktor, mostly.

It is easier to show. Alucard holds his palm out flat, imagining the castle emerging from the steam of the spring. Slowly, and then all it once, the steam solidifies into the wild shape of home. Darkens, becomes a perfect scale replica of the castle, all jutting turrets and impossible architecture. If there was ever any question about where Alucard's interest in building and architecture came from, well.]

This is it. My father built it over the centuries.

[No, it isn't. And Jaskier may have spent more time in the world than Alucard, but he has spent far less time on... personal traumas. He has never been far from death on the Continent, or the muck and slime and every being that lives in them. But he made himself a figure that was not involved in political machinations. Not the way he is here.

Only seems fair that he should have to learn new things in this new world of theirs.]

Ah. The Hall. [Is Jaskier's assumption. Or the previously mentioned art protections. Well, at least Alucard has his priorities --

Wait. Does that mean a movable cave could be possible? With enough time?

Jaskier closes the distance between them after he plucks up his (full) wine glass again, the water ebbing as he peers down at the castle. Oh. Oh, it's a wicked, sharp thing, but he can see the beauty in it. The image of a moon framed behind it.]

It truly is beautiful. Though not what I would call inviting, exactly. A bit too pointy for all that. [Jaskier places a floating moon just behind the castle, glowing along all those ridges in this small, perfect recreation.] I was expecting it to be on little chicken legs, actually. We have some fables about such a thing.

[And not-so-much fables where that -- that demon comes in. Jaskier doesn't even want to think her name right now.]

It's still in progress.

[There's a gentle shrug. No one is rushing him along at the moment, and the needs of Libertas are much greater. When this is over, there can be music. For now, he has a useful skillset, and it is wiser and kinder to use it on behalf of others.

Alucard wills the little model to spin, and spin it does. Slow. Certain. Showing off all the little flourishes Dracula placed into the thing, meant to scare and to protect in equal measure.]

Of course it isn't. It's meant to scare people off. If not that, the staircases and impossible architecture wear one out before they even approach the residents. Or, if there's a vampire hunter at the door, one moves the structure entirely.

[That last one was important. But...chicken legs?]

I've only heard a few stories from neighbors further north. Interesting that that crosses universes.

[Jaskier huffs in amusement.] I believe I can easily imagine the sort of man who creates a spectacle that he intends to keep people away. It's a nearly enviable type of arrogance. Or he simply did not understand humanity in the least.

[A cloud of what may be bats flies past the moon and around the castle -- another little touch by Jaskier because he finds it all very fitting. Alucard obviously inherited the ability from somewhere.]

Seeing this, it makes me like your mother all the more.

[He has not forgotten how Alucard told him his mother marched up to this to obtain knowledge to help her fellow people. Anyone who would approach such a monstrosity with such headstrong determination is... well. That's truly enviable.

Jaskier holds his hand out in turn, fingers uncurling to show a hut walking to nowhere, bearing long, crooked bird-like legs.] I dare not speak her name even here, but -- I have a friend who has encountered her in the flesh. So it is not just idle stories. I would not be surprised to find such creatures are capable of such a thing... though, to be fair, it is said that only unicorns are still able to cross to other spheres.

You will not be shocked to learn that you're correct on both accounts. [Dracula? Arrogant? Of course. Out of touch and unwilling to deal with humanity? His calling card, after a while.

The florish of bats puts a faint smile on the dhampir's lips, and it's lovely that Jaskier remembers little details. They're almost always the ones that matter most.] You'd had loved her. She balanced kindness without standing for any nonsense, and was always quick to berate that nonsense when it arose. You know she told my father off within two minutes of entering the castle? She was disappointed at his lack of hospitality.

[Alucard was raised with that particular point in mind. It's still funny, even if it leads to painful recollections.]

Understandably so. I won't offer the name I know the story as, just in case. I can't recall what our world's stance on unicorns is.

[No, he's not entirely. It's not exactly arrogance that has him feeling that way (though he is normally always correct, of course); it's that over the years, Jaskier has acquired a very high level of skill at understanding others. It's how he reads a crowd, after all.

Or the history of a man's parentage.]

I absolutely would have loved her. As you know well, I often get along with those who are no-nonsense.

[Because Jaskier absolutely recognizes how much nonsense he himself can create.

Jaskier cruses the hut in his hand, leaning back against the rocks once more. He swallows several gulps of wine.] No, I appreciate your just in case as real caution. There is power in a name like that. [He smiles, though. Unicorns are not exactly benevolent in some cases, but...] What? You don't have unicorns?

And she would have absolutely indulged you.

[Jaskier has a good heart, after all. Few things made his mother as happy as seeing that. Alucard is confident that it would have been friendship almost immediately, with the occasional spat of good natured bickering.

There is, for a moment, the thought that some place might summon her here. Alucard stiffens at that realization, but it is easy to shake.]

This is what I'm saying, I'm not sure. I've seen items cataloged at unicorn horns, but I've not been able to determine if they're genuine or not. Could be from another horned animal, or it might be genuine. As I've not met one myself, the matter could go either way.

[open] Late September/Early October catchall

Closed; Jaskier

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