[ With his days working outside the city, Geralt doesn't realize anything's wrong at first. When he returns, though—he knows. He knows without needing to ask. She's almost never not there to see him when he's back.
She won't wake. He enters her club more than once, in between searching the rest of the Horizon. He cannot find her inside it. He hasn't any fucking clue what he's meant to do. She's not in her domain, but he knows she isn't completely lost because the club exists. Changed, corrupted. Her consciousness is still connected to the Singularity. He just can't find where she's gone. He's looked, fallen into those strange realms, stumbled into other' homes.
He's even gone to Jaskier for help, dragged him to the Singularity. Touched the damn rock himself. Come up empty.
Grasping at what he can, he finally asks the bartender she calls Steven: if he's seen her, when he last saw her, if someone's come by looking for her, too. (Ignores the man's current appearance.) He expects nothing useful, but—maybe. He tries, palms flat on the table. If there are any flowers or plants nearby, they shrivel, wilting and brown.
Fuck. It's been days. He's been trapped like everyone else, but for hours at most. Sometimes only minutes. Where the fuck did she go? ]
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She won't wake. He enters her club more than once, in between searching the rest of the Horizon. He cannot find her inside it. He hasn't any fucking clue what he's meant to do. She's not in her domain, but he knows she isn't completely lost because the club exists. Changed, corrupted. Her consciousness is still connected to the Singularity. He just can't find where she's gone. He's looked, fallen into those strange realms, stumbled into other' homes.
He's even gone to Jaskier for help, dragged him to the Singularity. Touched the damn rock himself. Come up empty.
Grasping at what he can, he finally asks the bartender she calls Steven: if he's seen her, when he last saw her, if someone's come by looking for her, too. (Ignores the man's current appearance.) He expects nothing useful, but—maybe. He tries, palms flat on the table. If there are any flowers or plants nearby, they shrivel, wilting and brown.
Fuck. It's been days. He's been trapped like everyone else, but for hours at most. Sometimes only minutes. Where the fuck did she go? ]