[ Normally, Geralt gives little thought to the few times he can sense someone in his domain. The tug of that cord that stretches. In part, he prefers to ignore that constant connection. For another, he simply doesn't give a fuck. If anyone's looking for him urgently, they can send a damn message.

This time, it's different. Uncomfortable. Like someone digging under his nails, inside his head. Maybe it's just his imagination. Maybe it's the fact that he's been feeling off since that fucking dream that wasn't a dream. A prickling over his skin, deep in his blood, that drags old memories and wounds to the surface he's long thought buried.

If you're unlucky enough to land unexpectedly in his domain, you're bound to run into the twisted oddities that've taken over Geralt's place.

1. the exterior: a blizzard blows through the open yard. The winds are biting, harsh. Dark red stains bloom over the snow where the skeletons lay buried. There's no trail. It's everywhere, as though carnage has freshly swept through the place.
   
   Typically calm and watchful, the white wolf that prowls his mountain has grown erratic. In the past few days, it can often be seen feasting on a messy kill, muzzle stained in blood. A deer, probably. Or if you look closely, you might glimpse the familiar shape of a human limb. If you're a stranger—especially one that looks like a threat—the wolf will pounce.
   
   Around the walls of Kaer Morhen and along the snowy ground, vine-like tendrils creep and trail. The creature it belongs to is rare if impossible to spot, but its reaching branches make itself known as it slithers. Walk too close or pay too little attention, and you're liable to be grabbed: snatching at your hair, wrapping around your limbs, or even binding you in place.



2. the interior: the halls of Kaer Morhen are locked, but anyone has a chance to slip past those locks by transporting straight inside. The fires are lit, but the corridors are devoid of warmth. The place looks far more dilapidated than usual: broken benches, spilled bowls, blood staining the floors.
   
   The medallion tree remains standing, though barely. The sealed split up the middle has splintered, a fissure that threatens to tear it in half once more. The vines can be found inside the walls, too. They curl around chairs, braziers, torches, twitching and shifting.
   
   And if you walk by a set of stairs leading down, a muffled echo of screams drift from deep beneath the bowls of the keep. Don't go down. If you try, Geralt will appear to stop you, and he will not be polite about it.

[ Geralt an also be found walking into the domains around the Horizon. Not wander—walk. He'll go right in and it'll seem he's searching for something, someone. If you ask, he might explain. Or he might not.

Now and again, he might just pop into yours like everyone's been doing. It's fucking annoying, which his expression will demonstrate clearly, and he'll search for a quick exit. Unless something about your domain makes it so he can't. ]