abraxaslogs | [ open ] This is Halloween, everybody make a scene

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[ open ] This is Halloween, everybody make a scene

Julie has always thrown a good party. It was true in Kansas, it was true in Vegas, and it's true in the Horizon. And last year's party had been a smashing success by Julie's standards.

At that time.

See, the thing is, back then, Julie didn't understand exactly what she was capable of doing with the Horizon's powers. She had, without meaning to, limited herself to things that already made sense in the world she had previously known. But that's not the world she lives in anymore, and after a year of learning, she's ready to actually throw a Horizon-worthy party.

I | WAIT
For the vast majority of the Summoned, this will be the first time they've ever seen the pink neon that illuminates the edges of Julie's club go dark. The pink carpet and pink velvet ropes are gone; the big double doors are closed and locked. Those with keen eyes might notice that the door handles, normally in the shape of rising clouds of butterflies, are now swarms of bats. There is a small sign on a stand at the door.

All around the building, there's the loud, ominous sound of a grandfather clock's swinging pendulum, ticking toward an unknown time (well, it is known, as Julie sent out invitations). The wood of the doors bears long, ragged scratches, as if claws have been dragged down them. Thick fog gradually surrounds the building -- while not thick enough to obscure vision, it is nonetheless ominous and haunting.

The clock chimes nine o'clock; the sound is deafening. There is a long, pregnant pause, and just when it seems like nothing is going to happen, there is a sudden screech from above. An enormous, bulbous spider crawls atop the roof as if from the back, its body and legs so large and long that they span the building's width. It gives another great shriek as it leers down from the roof, fangs dripping, but it doesn't reach down from its perch. It remains above the crowd, menacingly.

At the same time, the doors burst open in an almost explosive manner, and the pounding music begins to pour out from within. More fog floats out of the foyer, carrying obscured green and orange light. The party has started.

II | CREEP
Walking through the front door, there are many details to be noticed, enough that it's easy to overlook most of them. The mist is a heavy blanket across the ground, thinning out for visibility only around waist-height. Where last year the theme was set in a barren forest, this year appears to be set in a massive, abandoned Victorian mansion. While the club maintains its normal shape from the outside, the inside is transformed to mimic long, winding hallways and spiraling staircases that seem to lead nowhere. The roof is high, in cathedral arches, and the fireplaces are dark. The walls and mantles bear various pieces of decoration: eerie black-and-white portraits in filthy frames, cracked vases full of dead flowers, jagged and broken sconces. Everything is covered in a vast, dusty coat of cobwebs, and the entire main hall must be traversed to reach the music that streams through the air.

Ignore the movements in the corner of your eyes. And be careful not to graze the walls -- lest you discover that the black pattern on the dark wallpaper is less of a pattern and more of an infestation.

Along the way, one might be inclined to open one of the many doors that line the halls and see what's inside. There are any number of strange scenes to find -- those familiar enough may recognize the haunting figures as Julie's clubgoers in costume. Interacting may have... unintended consequences.

Make it through the maze of haunted rooms and revolving doors, and you'll be rewarded by finding the ballroom.

III | PARTY
True to Julie form, the ballroom is fully decked out for only the wildest of parties. Spiderwebs stretch across the vaulted ceilings and between pillars, with lights hanging from their gossamer threads. Candles help illuminate by floating near the ceiling and around tables.

The bar, swapped for heavy Gothic design, is manned by Steven, as always. Despite being dressed as a white-eyed demon, he is as helpful as ever, and happy to make you whatever drink your heart desires. Two long tables flank the bar -- one boasts a huge variety of spooky snacks and bowls of candies, amongst other, more classic party dishes. The other holds vast quantities of... other goodies, should one be tempted to participate: bowls of pre-rolled joints and various pills, silver platters with small mountains of cocaine atop them, and even tiny canisters of whippits, for those with low tolerance. Be careful not to confuse the regular candies with their cannabis-infused counterparts.

The dance floor is large and lit in purple, orange and green. The music is loud enough to dance to, but not so loud that conversation is impossible. The resident partiers that weren't used to play roles in the scary scenes congregate here, in a wide assortment of random sexy costumes.

Hopefully, you've arrived in time to see Julie's grand entrance.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Geralt will have to forgive her for not giving a single fuck about his comfort at the moment, although in fairness to her, he's the one responsible for his own positioning right now. The only thing she can currently focus on is the building pressure inside herself, spreading like wildfire from her core out into the rest of her. Her nails bite into the back of his hand as she pants and sighs.

At a certain point, her fingers begin to claw at his hair, knotting at the roots until the closer ear gets in her way, folds up under her palm. She's not actually entirely sure whether the connection he has with them works both ways -- they move with his expressions but she can't tell whether he gets feedback from them. She hopes not, because she grabs it roughly and yanks it away, discarding it to the side before she slips her fingers back into his hair, pushes it back.

The darkness of the room and his angle make his eyes look like honey, all the sharpness of the yellow canceled out and turned warm. Closing her own eyes, she whimpers and rolls her hips against his mouth. She's teetering on an edge, stringing out the pleasure as much as she can. ]

[ The ears are not, fortunately, any real part of him; Geralt doesn't go as far as Jaskier for his costumes. It slides out with ease, limp as a flattened rat where it lands on the floor. He pays little mind to the fact that he's now one ear down. The other begins to slip, lopsided.

She's slick against him, and he makes a wanting noise alongside her. His fingers dig into her thigh, small crescent imprints left behind. There's so much heat, he's burning up, the lightest flush creeping up his neck in a way it almost never does. His hair falls loose under her hands—slips free of the leather cord wrapped around it.

He lets her grip him as tight as she wants, lifting a little higher on his knees to get just the right angle for her. ]

[ Just that small shift is enough, given how close she already is. Her thigh shudders against his hand as the other presses to his cheek -- he feels almost feverish, even against her own flooding warmth. She gasps and her spine arcs, her neck curving enough to raise slightly from the bed. Her hand around his squeezes, white knuckled.

In her head, everything goes white and blessedly silent for a long moment. The tension in her limbs ebbs away and she feels like her bones have turned to jelly inside her skin.

Inhaling sharply, Julie shudders in the aftermath, her mind still fuzzy and spinning just a little. ]

[ There's nothing he appreciates more than feeling her shiver beneath him, tense and then loose all at once. He lifts from between her legs, dragging the back of his hand over his mouth.

The gold chain twists between his fingers as he leans in to kiss her. It's a different sort of satisfaction that settles over him, the kind that comes from knowing he's given her more fucking pleasure than she knows what to do with.

Exactly what he wants. Exactly what he needs, perhaps. Lately it seems as though everything he touched, everything he came near, just crumbled apart, wilting, dying, afraid. So this—a reminder that she's here safe with him, that these moments are still theirs to have, it's good. He'll indulge in the feeling for a bit while her breathing steadies. ]

[ If she's crumbled apart, it's only in the best way; her heart is still racing when she raises her hands to his face. Her fingers curl into his cheeks as she kisses him fiercely. The room could be on fire right now and she would have no clue, she's so focussed on him.

It is, in the grand scheme of things, a small moment, but for the first time in a week -- or longer -- she can't feel any fear or stress or a crushing sense of panic. Only the sensation of furiously beating wings inside her chest, pressing against her ribs in a way that's strangely both the best and worst feeling she's ever had. They are here, together, and it's good.

More coherent thoughts start to enter her head, once she's caught her breath, and her hands drop to pull at his shirt. He feels like a radiator on top of her, and all she can think is that she would rather be burned than have the barrier between them. ]

[ He deepens the kiss, hungry, still clearly seeking more. His eyes fall shut, and when he breathes in, it sends a heady rush through him.

As his shirt goes over his head, the other wolf's ear goes with it, discarded to the side. His tail joins it when he reaches behind him to tug the damn fuzzy thing off. It's only him now, and the light shine of his eyes. The gentle whisper of his medallion rubbing against her chain.

He grinds down against her. Slow, heavy, with a soft breath into the crook of her neck. ]

[ As soon as his various furry accouterments as gone and she has every iota of his attention back, she wraps herself around him like a cocoon. Her legs fold around his hips and pull him close, her fingers sliding back into his hair. The other arm circles around him and reaches up, her nails pressing into the meat of his shoulder. Not viciously, but enough to bite.

She clings to him with an airy sound, tilts her head toward his and winds up with her cheek pressed to his temple. He grinds against her and she rakes her hand down his back, eyelids fluttering. She can trace the map of scars without trying now, just muscle memory.

Voice soft, she murmurs, lips brushing his skin. ] Please, baby. I want you.

[ She holds him tight, practically clutching, and he leans easily into it. The sound he makes is encouragement when her nails dig into his shoulder. He doesn't stop kissing her until he needs to catch his breath, and then she's tangled around him. He grips the cushion above her head, maybe hard enough to tear the fabric, but it hardly matters right now.

He slips a hand between their bodies, pulls buttons free. Impatience makes him not bother with more than that. He wraps his fingers around himself, and he knows she can feel him brushing against her. ]

Show me how much.

[ His voice sends a pulse through her core, and the touch of his skin sends another. For a second, she's quiet, looking up at him, then her mouth curls into an impish smirk. She lets go of his hair and her hand follows his down. ]

You forgot already? [ It's her knuckles that graze him, her fingers gliding through her own slickness, wet enough that it's almost embarrassing. Her hips rock insistently up to him when she removes her hand, delicately touches her fingertips to his bottom lip. ] Maybe being a hundred is catchin' up to you.

[ Her eyelids are low, and she bites her lip, still smiling smugly. There's a weighty knot of anticipation settled into her stomach. ]

[ He laughs, soft, with a half-roll of his eyes. His lips graze the shell of her ear when he answers. ] I have a youthful spirit.

[ His mirth gives way to a darker, hungry ache when her fingers press to him, glossy nails gleaming. He takes one into his mouth, tasting her. His eyes flutter shut for a moment. He doesn't make her wait, though; between how wet she is and how hard he is, he sinks inside her with ease before long.

His breath stutters. He grips her with one hand, and the other wraps around her bedpost, or just the nearest solid thing he can grab. He's looking down at her, letting some of his weight settle atop as he rocks against her. ]

[ She gives a sharp little gasp when he slides into her, drags her nails down his back before she just grabs at his shoulders. Her legs tighten around him again, her heels digging into him as she rolls back up to meet him. The little crystal spider jitters against her sternum, in time with the way her chest heaves.

When she looks up, she can see herself reflected in his pupils. She tenses around him.

With a quiet groan, she raises her head slightly, her neck stretching as she holds his face and kisses him again. Only when he's that close does she close her eyes again. He's so hot, always so hot in a very literal way, and every limb she's wrapped around him has already started to bead with sweat. ]

Edited 2022-12-03 00:56 (UTC)

[ He curves down to meet her lips. His hair curtains his face, pupils wide the way they grow in the dark. The friction sends an intoxicating rush through him. He studies the long curl of her lashes, shadowed along her cheeks.

After a moment, he closes his eyes, too. When he breaks away from the kiss, his forehead tips onto her shoulder. Her skin grows slick; so does his as she clenches around him. He buries himself deep, in her, in all of it. There's a moment where he forgets where they even are or what brought them here; it's just her, tangled around him. The heavy rise and fall of her chest beneath, that noise she makes that's so familiar now.

When he groans her name, nearly a growl, she can probably feel it, too—the rumble, and the sharp tension before it releases him. Something cracks beneath his hand, wood splintering.

He doesn't yet notice, too busy catching his breath. His grip slowly loosens. ]

[ The dizzying pressure of him hilted inside of her builds quick, engulfs her by carrying into her ribcage; it's so much that her heart actually hurts, feels squeezed, but the ache is sweet, like bruise that she can't stop herself from prodding. He breaks away and she grabs the back of his head, her neck flopping bonelessly back to the bed. She babbles in a quiet murmur, just the same handful of begging words and babys over and over.

The bed cracks, not even for the first time this week, as she whimpers in response to her name. For a long moment, waves course over her, then ebb away like the tide. Everything is white in her mind, silent except for her own heartbeat; his breathing is the first outside noise to get back in.

She stays wrapped around him. ]

[ He breathes against her for a moment, in and out, falling into rhythm with her. Eventually, he rolls off, landing on the soft cushions next to her.

Mm. His sigh is content. He lets her stay wrapped around him, makes no effort to untangle himself. Slowly, the quieted music, the dim lights, filter back in.

It's nice not to worry too much. For once. His hand settles in her hair, idly brushing the pink strands. ]

I had fun. [ The remark is a little teasing, a callback to one of the first things she asked him the year prior. ]

[ She moves with him, eyes closing when her cheek lands on his shoulder. The air is cool on her back while she's still pressed close enough in front that it's warm, her limbs draped over him. ]

I still promise not to tell. [ She says it with a soft snort, a smirk, and she runs her fingers lazily over his ribs. ] Long as you don't duck out on me in twenty minutes this time.

[ Her tone is light, though, and she blinks slowly, looking at the wall. It's not that she minds how he left last year -- of course she didn't mind. It's more that she can't help thinking about what she'd said to Jaskier, that she hadn't expected back then for things to look like they do now. Back then, none of them knew how long any of this would last, whether they'd ever even see each other again in person. She'd been moving through the world like she might lose her life again at any given moment.

And maybe that's still true, that it could happen. She's really at the mercy of the Singularity's whims, more than most of them. But now she doesn't feel a constant need to dwell on that. Instead, she feels like she can make plans and choices, like an actual person with a real life.

And when she does make those plans, she includes him in them. He's there, along with Nadine and Ciri and Jaskier and Jesper and Sam, and she's not always thinking about whether someone or something better might come along.

She lets out a breath, listening to his heart beat under her head, then adds, ] I know where to find you if you do.

[ He smiles. It'd taken him time to really start to stay, in part because his comfort with remaining in the Horizon had been complicated back then—but also because, like her, he'd not expected any of this to be permanent. Or as permanent as things can be. Geralt, always, lives his life preparing for one loss after another. It's what he knows, and it's what he's come to expect.

But some losses, he hopes to put further off than others. Far enough into the future that he doesn't want to think about it or keep her at arms length, waiting for when she will not be here. And he's wondered about that sometimes: why he leads the life he does, and yet he's here, outliving so many others. It isn't as though he wants to go first. Only that being the one left standing doesn't feel a fuck of a lot better.

Double-edged nature of a sword, he supposes. ]

Am I so predictable? [ He absolutely is. He lets an easy silence lapse, not really wanting to disturb the moment, before he finds himself gently prodding, ] You've been all right?

[ He means, mm. More than this, throwing herself into hosting parties and decorating. He has not asked for much detail since that day, decided she could use a bit of time to come around if she wants to talk to him. But he doesn't think it should go ignored, either. He can tell she's not quite fine. ]

Sure are.

[ Julie finds most people fairly predictable. She has always had the ability to read people, to pick out their patterns and better suit her own goals. Geralt actually tends to surprise her more than most -- where she catastrophizes, assumes the worst outcomes, he does the opposite, because she has built her expectations on guarding herself. But, she has come to understand, she doesn't really need to protect herself as much as she is often inclined to.

Which is why, despite a mechanical "I'm fine" that automatically comes out, she shifts her gaze up toward him. For a moment, words don't really form on her tongue, like she can't put her thoughts together. There's so much, so much that she can't even begin to wrap her head around. When her voice finally does return, she can only really string together a handful of words that feel like they even begin to express any of it. ]

I think... I think I could feel you here. In my head. When I was wherever I was. I mean, not just you. There were other people too.

[ He doesn't press when she says I'm fine; it's what he'd say, as well, were he asked the same. Fine, after the shit he saw and relived, because what else can they be?

Then she adds more. He turns on his side to watch her. His brows pull together lightly. She had? He'd wondered. ]

I must've come here a dozen times. [ He hesitates, then huffs. In retrospect, it was a desperate, probably reckless decision, what he did next. He could think of nothing else. Doesn't regret trying, in truth. ] I even went to the Singularity. With Jaskier. We'd hoped—I don't know. That we could reach you somehow. If you were lost.

[ Her domain existed, after all. Her physical body existed. He'd been sure she was connected to the Horizon. He'd just not known where or how to get to her. In the end, he still doesn't. That's what worries him. She was released, but he never found her. The Horizon had merely let her go. ]

Edited 2022-12-06 02:41 (UTC)

I don't know exactly what was happenin' on this side each time. The feeling, it was like... like invisible hands, touchin' me all over. Inside my skin. But it wasn't all the exact same. The worst ones felt cold, slimy. Angry. Usually those would only be a second or two. But some were more... warm, I suppose. Not as harsh. They didn't make my stomach turn. That's what it was when I fell.

[ She puts one of the pillows under her head. Her brow develops a thoughtful stitch. Because she had no awareness of the passage of time while she was there, it's not helpful to ask when they went to the Singularity. But there were a few specific moments she remembers, where things felt different. The sense of others in her head, her skin. Times when the blob seemed more alive than normal. It would hum so loudly that her bones rattled, that she would lie on the ground for fear of being toppled from her chair. If the second time that happened, when she fell through the ground, was when he was here, desperate, then was the other when he stood at the Singularity? ]

The blob. It was always dronin' and buzzin'. But sometimes, it would shake a lot harder. Like the end of the world. Right before I fell, but then the other worst, it was a little bit before that.

[ What does that mean? He recalls feeling something when people would enter his place, but often only when he was outside the Horizon. It's difficult to piece much together, though, when so much had gotten fucked all at once. ]

We went there before I returned to yours. Jaskier said he felt it—reaching back when he touched it. [ Geralt lifts a hand, uncertain. That's all he knows. ] I sensed nothing.

[ Which is about what he expected. There's a reason he took Jaskier with him, though that'd proven unproductive, as well. Aside from, what. Disturbing her section of the Horizon? Potentially? Considering they already know she was somewhere connected to the Horizon, he isn't sure what that revelation spells.

Although— ]

Some of us wound up trapped where we weren't meant to. Not nearly as long as you, but I kept...falling. Into places.

[ The buzzing had been constant that day, or at least in the period immediately before she fell. It was the feeling of what she now suspects to be Geralt in her domain, lingering, that made her brave the cracking ground.

It doesn't surprise her that Jaskier felt reaching. That's how she's thought of it when Rhy has been there with her, the times the Singularity showed interest in someone else. Reaching. But Jaskier is also... if not entwined with the Singularity like she and Rhy are, then certainly better attuned to it than most. Has better magic skills, better control of the Horizon. With herself trapped away, and Rhy most likely having fled the Horizon entirely by that point, she doesn't find it shocking that the Singularity might connect with someone else.

Whether Jaskier is like them in some way or was just the first one to try to connect then is a wildcard, though. Maybe it would have tried to reach out to anyone strong enough. ]

Places? [ She latches on to this, the way she'd tried to find some kind of link between where she was, where Rhy was, and where they had both been before. ] What kind of places?

Mm. [ Places. He doesn't know what else to call them. ] Labyrinth of sorts. A mountain peak. And this...

[ Fuck. How to explain that last one? What even was it? Geralt picks up a hand mirror and gives it a shake. The reflection shimmers, revealing the bizarre heaped upon homes, the pulsing pink ooze that filled every nook. Much like the flying machine he'd glimpsed months ago, it isn't anything he's ever seen before. Nothing his mind would conjure. ]

I could create. So we must've been in the Horizon. [ Not perfectly, but he could. He spawned things that in a physical realm he couldn't have. ] Parts would morph to our memories. I kept—

[ —It doesn't matter. The point is: ]

I encountered others often. But you were always alone?

[ A labyrinth, a mountain, a... well, Julie doesn't really have a word for that last one. Beaches, a desert, a field. What the fuck does this all mean? It has to mean something. Doesn't it? Nothing can be this completely random and still feel so fucking deliberate at the same time.

She frowns when he cuts himself off. Kept what? He doesn't know what pieces of this matter, none of them do. Part of her wants to lock onto this and pry, but after a second of consideration, she decides that she doesn't want to bother right now. She's too drunk, too drained, too fucked out to deal with it. Instead, she focuses on the question. ]

Yeah. I mean, in person. There was someone else, but I don't think we were in the same place. We could talk, hear each other. We had to yell. He was on a beach, he said. It was cold and windy. He said -- he said that dead bodies kept washin' up on the shore, everywhere. His name is Rhy, he lives in Thorne. We met before it all, some months back. He got out before I did.

[ She's spoken to him since, briefly. Only by message, just to confirm each other's safety. But she has even fewer answers about how he ties in, what exactly he experienced. They weren't really together for her to know.

For a moment, she falls silent. There's so much that she doesn't know how to explain, how to even bring it all up. It's all so overwhelming, and the only way she knows how to deal with that is by pretending it doesn't exist.

Finally, she speaks. ] I touched it. Right before I fell. The blob.

[ Another? That name. He knows it. They've never met, but Jaskier is. Acquainted. (Of course he is.) So that makes two? Of them. Why only them?

He falls quiet alongside her. It isn't only the mystery of it all. It's that he wasn't entirely himself, and then everything just...piled on. Feels as though he lived a decade that one week alone. There's so fucking much. He's both too sober and not sober enough to pull apart what he experienced. ]

Did you feel anything?

[ The blob, that is. Whatever that blob might be. A creation of the Singularity? Is that what these places are? If it pulls on their memories, can it possibly build its own realities? Absorbing them? Perhaps that's why none of it makes any fucking sense, structurally. Mimicry without understanding. ]

I want to find out what this was. [ All of it. Where she went, why. The Horizon itself. For something they keep entering, they grasp almost nothing of it. He doesn't like it. Not when everyone important to him is linked to it in ways unlike anyone else. ] I don't want to wait for the next time you disappear again.

[ The pause before she answers is more anxious this time, like she's struggling to verbalize. Nothing that she felt is something that exists in words, at least not ones she knows. But she wants to explain. ]

I don't know what I felt. [ Her voice is soft, her brow knit. ] It was loud. And bright. Just... noise and colors. I couldn't pick anythin' out, it was like it was all swirlin' together inside my head. And it went on forever. I don't know how long I fell. It couldn't've been that long but it seemed like a billion years. None of it ever stopped.

[ And it didn't feel meaningless, it all felt like something more massive than she could wrap her mind around. It reminds her a bit of the boat ride from Willy Wonka, except less clear and minus Gene Wilder singing creepily. But that's not a reference she give, nor would he understand the concept of "cartoon time travel scene", so she just doesn't try to illustrate anymore. But she adds, ] I went to the Singularity a few days after I came back. Not even all the way there, just to the crater. I wanted to see -- just see what would happen. It comes back when I get closer to it. All the colors and the noise. Like just in the background of my head.

[ Her eyes search his face for a long moment. Not that she believed he would be indifferent to her disappearance, but he seems so much more rattled than she thought he might be. It makes something in her chest clench, and she reaches for him, wraps her arms around his neck and presses herself close to him. She lets out a heavy breath, her eyelids lowering a bit as she settles her head next to his. ]

[ open ] This is Halloween, everybody make a scene

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