abraxaslogs | INTRO LOG #2

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INTRO LOG #2

Intro Log #2

It has been two months now since the initial group of summonings first took place. Castle Thorne, or at least the part above ground, is buzzing with a vibrant air of hope following the 'success' at the Singularity. Eager smiles and excited chattering are to be found in nearly every corner of the castle and surrounding town. The honored guests may find grateful looks turned their way more often than not. A new and brighter day seems to be dawning on the kingdom.

In the dungeons it's a different story entirely. The mood is somber and uneasy. The prisoner taken for trial has yet to return, and no word has come regarding her or her fate. There has been no mention of any further trials as of yet and guards seem to have little patience for unruly behavior or even conversation. Some seem to not even look at or acknowledge the prisoners at all.

[ Feel free to continue threads from the TDM here or start your own! As cell and room assignments will be short-lived due to this month's event, you're free to assume whichever cellmates and roommates you like instead of officially signing up as long as there are ICly no more than four people in a cell or room at once. ]

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[ The Singularity. Magic. It's all the same to him; all the same sort of power that will always exist, in some form or another, because there will always be those who seek it. Who crave it. And for a second, he thinks he glimpses a flicker, a shadow, in her eyes that sends a spark through his veins. It slips away quickly -- lost in the tidal wave of everything else on his mind.

At least she believes him. A small, thin thread unwinds in his knowledge of this. ]

Mm. [ He lets out a quiet huff. Yeah. That conversation? Feels like a lifetime ago. Yen might look at him and think, as many as nine fucking weeks?, but to Geralt, all he can think is, how the fuck has it only been nine weeks. ] He screamed into a cushion and hasn't brought it up since.

[ He suspects Jaskier, in what is rare form for the bard, has been suppressing that piece of information so that he doesn't have to confront it. It's fair enough. Speaking of Jaskier and magic, however. He tilts his head. They might both be trapped down here, but Jaskier is not. Jaskier can learn. Has been learning. And while Geralt knows he can't rely solely on his friend -- on any one person but himself -- he also knows it's the sharpest edge he has at the moment: the fact that Jaskier, unassuming and unthreatening as he is, has the potential the wield the same magic the mages do here. ]

There's something else you need to know. [ A beat passes. He folds his arms loosely across his chest. ] This sphere's proximity to the Singularity means magic is available to anyone willing to grasp it. Even a bard.

[ of course he would see that spark in her, the momentary hunger, the wish for more. it may not be as all consuming as it might have been years ago, or even months, but under yennefer's skin will always be that thirst for it. whether or not she'd been willing to meet her end on those fields around sodden, this - right now - is something else.

and then geralt lets out a small huff, and yennefer feels her end of that thread unwind just a fragment as well. and when he supplies the image of jaskier, screaming into a cushion, yennefer feels the corner of her mouth twitch upward ever so slightly. complicated conversations, complicated responses. the concept of time, and whether it out be beneficial to say what has happened, what will happen, what might not - now - is not on her to decide, now. jaskier knows, geralt knows, and therefore yennefer can focus back on her task at hand. at returning, perhaps with different magic, with new power.

or at least, that is the process her mind originally starts down, if not for what geralt continues on to say. for what causes him to cross his arms over his chest. he talks about magic and grasping and then, at those last few words, the small hint of a smile drops from her face. ]

A bard. [ even a bard, he says, and yennefer starts to place it together. what ambrose had said, when they arrived. the feeling of the block, around her always, pressing her down. the singularity is available to anyone? the magic here is available? even a bard? anger flares in her again, or maybe it's not anger, necessarily, but she will not name the jealousy that curls away at her, because she is not jealous. not of him ] You mean to tell me Jaskier has magic, here?

[ it does not dawn on her just then, that being down in the dungeon could have something to do with it. that if she was honored, rather than locked away, the block may not be here. she hasn't learned about that bit yet. honestly, it doesn't much matter to her that anyone could have access to it, either. not really. because now she is focused solely on two things - on the feeling of the block, here, how something that she has always had and the thing between her, and that the bard has access to magic ]

[ Something about the faint curl of her lips almost makes him let his guard down. Almost. (He hates how easy it is to slip into what he should've left behind long ago.) It's almost a relief when her expression changes into what he's far more used to seeing on her face. Or. Perhaps with an edge of something else there. Hmm.

He watches her closely, considering what else to say—not because he's trying to hide anything, but because they only have so much time together to get her filled in. It worries him, some, there's a possibility they may not get to talk again. He hasn't any notion what might happen day to day. ]

Apparently. Aptitude is far less limited it seems. [ He doesn't quite shrug, but he may as well have with his tone; what else is there to add? If it makes sense or not, it doesn't matter. He's seen it with his own eyes, the illusory birds Jaskier has crafted with his hands. And the gentle healing magic he's begun to learn. He knows Jaskier hasn't had any kind of instructor, either. ] Though those who arrived with their own magic seem to prefer wielding what they already know.

[ Which suggests the Singularity is not a different source of magic. It's just a source, the source: something that can be pulled upon and used in whatever way one finds most familiar. What that means, he isn't certain. His grasp of magic is not lacking, but nor has he especially studied it closely. Not a priority, for a Witcher.

In the same way, though, it doesn't occur to him Yennefer hasn't realized that what suppresses her magic is merely an enchantment. A powerful one, but one he knows can be lifted if he were free. So he doesn't clarify as he lets her respond or ask what she will. ]

[ that's how it is for both of them, isn't it? the hint of some kind of bridge, the possibility of someone letting their own guard down, so there is a chance it might be safe to let down their own. yennefer could just as easily leave this conversation, turn and walk away, if she wanted to. and what has kept her here has, in a way, also been that slimmer of hope. that maybe there is something to this, that geralt - being here - might be a good thing. an easy thing. a nice thing.

but if there had been a chance of that, it's gone, within that moment. not that it's directed at geralt anymore, at least not for this moment, but she is still angry. at jaskier, at ambrose, at the block between her and her magic. ]

Is magic really that available, here? That it's open to any who wish to wield it? [ yennefer sounds annoyed, terse and short, though again - not directed at geralt, this time. she makes a noise of frustration and turns away, finally, then, though once more not to leave. she can't quite find it in herself to leave, still has something keeping her here, in this space, just to be closer in proximity. she tells herself it's to learn more about what is going on, but the truth is much more. the truth is much more complicated.

she wants to scream, suddenly. feels the urge of it to boil up in her gut, burning alongside the stretch of her wound. ]

So those who have magic themselves can still access it, and those who don't have that aptitude can access the Singularity, as long as they are not deemed dangerous to Ambrose. All the while you and I rot away in this dungeon without any magic at all, alongside the rest of these prisoners, who may or may not have magic themselves. Wonderful.

[ If he senses Yennefer about to walk away, Geralt doesn't move. Her bitter remark is obviously rhetorical, so Geralt simply looks over without answer. He's not blaming her. In some ways, he wishes he could feel the same vibrant anger she seems to wear like a battered shield. But often, it only ever manifests as weariness in him. The kind that makes him want to lay down and let the earth grow over his body.

He looks away, back down. Not avoiding her gaze this time, though. ] Release is not impossible. The guests—they have some sway. Handful were freed on the word of another.

[ He does not suggest Jaskier. Like he isn't already aware what he reaction will be to that. Doesn't matter who, anyway. Yennefer, no doubt, can find a target with ease from those residing above. Someone she can use for her freedom. For her, it is possible. That she can be vouched for. That the court will see fit to grant her release. Crimes is the specific word Ambrose used—and between the two of them, there isn't much question whose pages are less inked.

He's accepted his only way out will be a bloody one or not at all. Maybe it doesn't have to be so for her and Jaskier. If that's all the reprieve that can be granted for him, he'll more than take it. ]

[ she has plenty anger to spare, if he would like to carry some of it. plenty that she would be more than happy to rid herself of. there is so much of it bubbling inside of her, threatening to spill over, but even her usual methods of ridding herself of it are not possible, here. not while she is imprisoned, without her magic. not while her wound still heals - painfully, unnecessarily slow.

so yennefer steps away, walks a step or two, turns her eyes to the heads of the other prisoners around them. bodies, shuffled among other bodies. and the smell. geralt does not engage with her comments, but really, she had not expected him to. had not expected anyone to. but when he does continue speaking, it is with an actually interesting idea. release is possible, alright. the opinions of the guests matter. she latches onto that concept, though hesitantly, glancing over to him once more. ]

Then why are you still here? [ because she will not, will not, accept the help from the bard - but she doesn't need the bard, if any of the guests will do. her own ideas are starting to circulate, but her curiosity over that one little disconnect has her unsure.

crimes or not, if the sway of a court is on the table, jaskier is no fool. and if they both have been here for as long as geralt says they have, and jaskier has been trying for all that time, it would shed more light on the lengths she would need to go to. ] I would think Jaskier would know how to convince a man like Ambrose that you're more useful to those sorts when not kept in a cage.

[ Why indeed. The real answer is that Geralt hasn't a fucking idea. Whatever Ambrose knows, whatever he thinks he knows, it far outweighs what Jaskier could convince him of. Jaskier has told him he's lost track of how many times he's submitted a petition. Which is not exactly what Geralt wants Jaskier to spend his time doing—trying to free him, drawing attention for it—but. It's clear either way neither the Council nor the High Mage will change their minds.

None of this has come as a surprise. He hadn't expected it to work the first time; he isn't expecting it to work the tenth or twelfth. ]

Not for lack of trying. [ Though. Useful is not the direction Geralt's ever wanted to lean in when it comes to his freedom. If he walks out of here, it'll not be because he's given Thorne the impression that he's interested in helping their cause in any way. Fuck their cause. This fight over power, it's all the same, across every sphere. (Maybe that's where they differ, he and Yen; maybe in the end, that makes the difference between who Thorne will release.) ] And I don't care to be of use. To anyone. Especially not to their ambitions of war.

[ He gets it, what Yennefer is saying. He can pretend, can play the long game. See if he can convince them he can do what they want, even if he has no intention of following through. The thought of it alone leaves him uneasy. It isn't the dishonesty behind it, though Geralt also has little inclination towards subterfuge. Just...the idea of putting his name behind another kingdom's, truthfully or not, for his own motives or not—he doesn't like it. It isn't what he does. Isn't what they do. Zelda proposed the same to him once. His freedom, in exchange for assisting Thorne in their supposed ideal of saving the world. (Saving the world by harnessing all the power for themselves. Generous.) He'd turned it down then, too. It feels too much like he's compromising one of the few things he still has, that in all of his years he's never allowed to be taken away. The one thing that can't ever be stripped from him. He doesn't give a shit what reputation he gets here or anywhere else. They can whisper what they will. But there's one rumour he won't feed, and it's that his allegiance can be bought and bartered for. That he's willing to leash himself to another for his own sake. ]

[ but that creates its own problems, doesn't it? that jaskier, with all this time and a court of obvious fools at his fingertips, can't convince a power-hungry mage that geralt couldn't be useful? it would be different, she supposes, if geralt had been given the opportunity to leave and had turned it down. though, as she considers that option, she wonders if he did.

yennefer has spent so much of her life at the beck and call of royals with their own ambitions. wasted so many lifetimes cleaning up the messes of useless kings, their annoying wives, the constant blathering of members of the court. what would be anther couple of years here? what is it, in the grand scheme of things, when she's already done it for so long? ( except even she can't pretend. not when her thoughts are still stuck on what is back at sodden, what she had been ripped from. it's easy to act like it won't matter when she knows how false that statement really is). but she supposes, knowing what she does know of geralt, she can see his hesitance. it's stupid, especially with the paths laid out for them here, now, but she can't bring herself to be surprised by it either.

maybe it is where their paths differ - but then again, is it really? because geralt can easily say fuck this war and that war, can keep himself out of the trials and tribulations of the kingdoms, but he does always end up stepping right into them, one way or another. or maybe it's not the war he crosses paths with, maybe it's just yennefer, still woven up in them herself. ]

What are you waiting for, then? If you won't claim to help Thorne for the sake of getting out. [ she'd heard whispers of a prisoner disappearing. of a slowly building tension among the guards and prisoners alike. yennefer isn't sure what she would want to make of it, herself, but despite herself she is curious if geralt has some other plan afoot. if escape is something he thinks is honestly on the table for any of them. ] Unless you plan on dying down here. [ the way she says this, though, is flippant, almost like a joke. she knows that if geralt were to reach his end, it wouldn't be in a cell. not like this place. not him. so, obviously, he must have another plan for himself. ]

[ For a second, he asks himself if he hears the faintest note of concern in her voice. Is that what he wants? Why does he care? It shouldn't matter, her concern. Yen has always taken care of herself first; that's the woman he met, the one he...(fell for) came to know, and he's never expected nor wanted different from her. (Except there's always been something underneath; he knows that, too. That she was in Sodden, against all logic, for a reason. Her quiet dreams for more, confessed so unexpectedly that sometimes he still wonders if he'd imagined it while on the cusp of sleep.)

Either way. They're many twisted paths apart from when she'd once admitted she was afraid the mountain would take him from her. So he doesn't let himself linger on half-formed thoughts that do nothing. ]

Here's as good a place as any. [ It's said about as flippantly. A joke that really isn't one. He doesn't have any explicit intention of dying down here, but the truth is: if not here, it'll be somewhere else just as dark and filthy. In the end, does it make a difference? He wants to see this through, to be certain Jaskier and Yennefer are safe. Beyond that—whatever he'd once had to return to, she's no longer there. The girl. The princess.

He pushes past the topic, not wanting to talk about it. About what's been going on with him since they've last spoken. ] Thorne has the prisoners tracked with a magic signature. Convincing your way into court will be your best chance of walking out.

[ of course there couldn't be concern in her voice. yennefer does not carry concern for geralt of rivia, or at least not in a way that it could be called by such a name. not anymore. whatever form it had taken on that mountain had been left on that mountain-side as well, in the same breath that she'd told him that he'd already lost her. their paths diverged, her feet taking her to places far off, and then back once more. his...apparently to cintra. whatever relationship they had forged is barely a small fragment of time in the many lives she's lived. in the grand scheme of things, it did not matter.

and even so, here she found herself. unable to truly walk away. unable to sit with an answer such as here's as good a place as any. yennefer frowns, a dark line across her mouth as she looks back up to him once more. and she knows it is in part a retort to her own flippant tone, but really? truly? here? even the joke of it doesn't sit well with her, and by not sitting well bothers her, and so she dismisses the concept altogether.

she was not dying in this dungeon. and neither was he. ]

There's been whispers of escape. [ surely he's heard them. she's barely been here a day, maybe more. when they'd been presented to her, she had accepted the idea of it, assuming it was their only way out. after her conversation with geralt, here, she thinks better - through thorne, through the court...if she was truly to understand the singularity, it would need to be through them. but then she exhales, shaking her head. ] It seems Thorne's favor hasn't worked fast enough for the rest of those imprisoned, but what they're waiting for, I don't know.

Not just whispers.

[ They also don't matter. He's spoken to the elf, and he's gleaned nothing of value beyond the fact that running is a worthless endeavor unless one can, maybe, find shelter somewhere far outside Thorne's borders. Even then. Not that he thinks escape is entirely out of the question. It just can't be done quietly, and with the hope that they won't be caught.

At least it saves the rest of them the trouble. Might've tried his hand at it nonetheless if he'd been here alone, frankly. He can survive being in the wilderness far longer than most, tracked or no. Jaskier has made it too known exactly what Geralt means to him by pressing for his release, though. Whatever move he makes, he can't put Jaskier in danger over it. He might be imprisoned altogether, but too much about Jaskier's situation still feels like that of a pampered hostage at best.

He lets his arms drop from his chest. His eyes linger over her, landing on the curve of her lips. What else does he have to say? Conversation with her had been less complicated once; a half-playful tug of war they both understood. Now he's not sure where to step. Passing on information is about as neutral ground as they can get. There's more he wants to say to her—compounded both by their time apart and the fact that he doesn't know how much time they have between them. But none of it comes out. None of it he can put into real words.

In the end, he only leans back again. His gaze returns to her eyes. Somehow, that he can't take in her familiar scent, the way he always could before, only makes her feel that much further out of his grasp. Even though she's only steps apart here. ] I can only tell you it seems they don't plan to wait much longer.

[ so he has heard of the plan. and seems...unimpressed? unconvinced? with the plan the rest of the prisoners have seemed to resort to. part of her is surprised by that, if only because she would have taken him for the type to attempt an escape. to take that more violent route, especially considering the heightened tensions of the guards. yennefer spends the next few moments simply studying geralt, trying to find at least some of the answers to the multitude of questions she has for him.

it's the bard, then. that is what she falls on - geralt is worried for jaskier, so he won't make a move that could in any way jeopardize...what? jaskier's place at court? his safety? she supposes if jaskier has made it obvious how much he has invested in geralt's release...

his eyes are on her mouth, then, and yennefer's feels her thoughts still a bit under his gaze. whatever it is they have between them, or had between them, at another time, feels different in this place. she doesn't know if it's due to the circumstances themselves, or the time they's spent apart. the things she's done, the decisions she's made. without realizing what she's doing, yennefer steps back towards geralt again - closing the distance she'd created, like waves on the sand. away, and then back again. she doesn't want to consider the potential that if their magic is blocked here, what it has done to the wish. if the djinn's power is strong enough to withstand even that. because the pull she feels towards him even now is strong enough that she nearly, nearly feels herself lean into it. a hand, slowly drifting towards him, as if to reach out. except that even now she can't bring herself to do it.

( and with his eyes on her mouth and her's on his face, she wonders briefly if he will try to kiss her. they've been in this same place before, this same distance. she doesn't want him to - she doesn't think - but the thought still comes to her. )

then he leans back, and while she is still standing so close to him, the distance has been created once more. she doesn't step away, though, and her eyes are waiting for him, on him even still, when he finally looks back to her. ]

I am getting out of this prison, Geralt. [ yennefer's voice is low, tense. woven with desperation and determination and decisions being made, questions of him she won't ask aloud. ] Whatever it takes.

[ The moment she steps closer, he finds his attention drawn back towards her. (As if it's ever left.) She looks like she needs sleep, a healer, a damn bath. And fuck if he wishes they hadn't met here like this. He doesn't like the thought of her languishing down here. Not even for a brief few days. It's nothing to do with what she can withstand. She can handle herself fine. He of all people knows that. It's more...somehow, it doesn't sit right. That she should be here, locked away alongside him. He's never expected anything different for himself—would've probably been arrested, anyhow, sooner or later—but with her: the times when he'd turned his thoughts towards if she might appear in this world, he's presumed she'd be welcomed by the court. And he's not certain how to explain why it is that being wrong about this one thing troubles him, when he's aware his presumptions held no firm logic.

Maybe it's the implication that Thorne views her as deserving a place on the same level as him—rejected, unwanted, a mistake—which bothers him.

She's right some of it is to do with Jaskier. Practically speaking, that's all he'll ever admit to if asked. Maybe all he's even consciously acknowledged. But deep down, there's a lingering sense that, as of late, he doesn't know for what purpose he'd be breaking free. To go home? To a Continent that welcomes him as much as Thorne has? Ultimately, he's fallen back on operating out of instinct more than anything. It's served him well, over the decades, but it means he has no answer for what he plans to do or if he sees himself out of here alive. He only knows how far he's willing to go. Whatever state he's in at the end of that road, however much blood has been spilled along the way, that's where he'll be. ]

I know. [ And he will be there for her, whether she wants him or not. That much, he doesn't try to hide in his gaze. He straightens up. For a split second, reaching out to her crosses his mind. He doesn't. He's enough memories of her turning away from him already. ] I expect nothing less.

[ his attention shifts back to her, and yennefer - as she always has before - feels a kind of thrill surge through her. knowing she has his attention, knowing that by simply stepping closer she can draw those gold eyes back on her. there's a kind of power in it, even if she knows its source, knows its the wish that dictates the fact she feels this pull at all. but she can still enact some work on it, just as she channels chaos. geralt looks back to her with that same complicated, layered sort of expression, the sort of expression that in another life, at another time, she'd want to pick apart.

here, though, she is tired. exhausted. her body hurts in ways she's unused to and she knows she looks like shit. the feeling of grime and dirt isn't new to her, but is such a distant memory that she is aware. except that would involve her getting out, which takes her back to the task at hand - an escape, the magical block, these cells. the anger keeps the pain at bay, she's found, but it also proves to exhaust her even further. like now, that whatever anger she'd allowed to curl away inside of her as quelled, she suddenly feels just how tired she is pull at her like lead weights.

whether or not geralt notices that is up to him, because as soon as he agrees - i expect nothing less - yennefer just nearly feels a tug at her lips, a ghost of a smile, before she nods. once. she's not entirely certain why it was important for him to know that, but now that he does, there's not much else for her to say, is there? geralt won't reach out for her, just as she won't reach for him, and that is where they find themselves. at an impasse.

she searches his face for one more moment, considering him, considering this. and then, whether or not she finds what she's looking for, she takes a step away from him. there is nothing more to say, is there? he is content to remain here, whatever his reasons, and she is not. so unless geralt stops her, which she does not expect, yennefer will turn back away from him and leave him standing there. she doesn't have anywhere particular to go, but she won't stall, either. ]

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INTRO LOG #2

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