[ Activity in the tunnels seems to be on and off. Sometimes it's quiet; sometimes there are hordes that appear out of the ground. It makes investigating a bit difficult. That is what he's here for in the end, not to battle pest-like creatures. He can see the others have taken up arms well enough against them, which means Geralt has turned his attention to something that's invoked both his curiosity and concern, for personal reasons: the infection, spreading through even the plantlike organisms.
Something so pervasive from a singular source is worrying. That's the main reason he's even looking into this, given that he's not getting paid in anything other than goodwill. Some might say that's a worthwhile currency in its own right, but Geralt would say that goodwill has yet to buy him a meal.
He's turning a corner when the shrieking bats draws his gaze upwards. Sharp teeth, angry red eyes. But when he ducks, it's not because a rabid bat has attacked him. It's because there's a really fucking large book coming at his face. ]
Hey. [ It narrowly misses his head. He reaches behind him for a round metal bulb: it rolls into the pack of circling bats and—sits there? Wait. What the fuck—
In retrospect, Geralt knows better than to approach what's effectively a magical bomb (described so by Jaskier, who helpfully provided it after Geralt explained that his sword can only do so much in narrow tunnels) even if it seems like a dud, but there's a woman trying to beat back the bats and the last thing he needs is either of them getting bit. So prods it with the tip of his sword—and promptly gets a sizeable puff of smoke in his face.
He coughs. Ah, shit. It...could've been smoother. But the bats do screech and scurry away, escaping out a narrow opening in the rocks to fresher air. He waves away the smoke as it clears and makes a note to tell the bard-turned-witch the trigger mechanism is not, in reality, "handmade to perfection." (This is what he gets for avoiding Yennefer in hopes of not upsetting their uneasy truce.)
Geralt hands the woman the weaponized tome, dusty but intact. ] You okay?
Another voice cuts through the ruckus of her own voice and the chattering bats, and Nico quite suddenly realises that she might not be alone in her plight. That's good, right? Sure, there's the embarrassing reality of someone seeing her in the midst of a struggle, but this guys is tall, broad in the shoulder, and looks like he might know his way around that sword. Having some back-up has to be better than dealing with them on her own—which the guy seems intent on proving right away by rolling what looks to be some kind of grenade into the pack. )
Woo! Yeah, you show 'em who's—
( But Nico's cheer dies in her throat as the ball bounces to a halt and does a whole load of nothing. Seriously? The bats are still circling and shrieking as he inches in closer to poke it with the top of his sword—which causes the thing to sputter to life and eject a plume of smoke right into the guy's face. That the bats seem to find it suitably offensive is, in Nico's opinion, nothing short of blind luck, and she flings a few choice cusses after them as they disappear in a bluster of leathery wings.
Fortunately, she's distracted from her tirade by the man's approach. Nico hadn't really got a good look at him when they'd been dealing with the bats, but now that she can see him up close and personal? Damn, if he isn't a serious looking motherfucker. Silver hair, strange eyes, a head-to-toe "don't fuck with me" kind of vibe ... kind of like Sephiroth, kind of like Nero, kind of like most of the men in her life.
Figures. )
Yeah, yeah—I'm fine.
( She takes the book with a raised eyebrow, then brushes off some of the debris before setting it back down next to her research. When she straightens up again it's with a glimmer of mischief sitting behind her eyes: )
Y'know, between you an' that puffball over there, I can't decide which one of you to thank.
( But there's amusement pulling at the corners of her lips. Hey, the thing did manage to get results (even if they came at the man's expense), and she sets her hands on her hips before giving him a pointed once-over. )
Hard choice. Give it a day. [ His amusement is harder to spot, but it might be glimpsed beneath the deadpan. A brief moment passes where Geralt's giving her the same once over. His gaze catches on the unusual inking decorating her arms. Interesting. ]
Geralt. [ He bends to collect the glass ball that's rolled between her books. It's empty, with some dusty residue inside from the smoke. Might as well return it. For, ideally, an improved model. He peers through the hole where the bats fled, just to make sure they're not lurking for a second ambush. He has no damn idea how infections affect him here and now's not the time to experiment. ]
You're researching. [ The moss or the area in general? It looks that she's been set up here awhile, with her books and equipment. Between her tools and the fact that she seems not especially disturbed by rabid bats nearly chewing her face, she reminds him of the scholars he sometimes runs into out in their caves or dig sites: the ones that inadvertently disturb some tomb or troll in their eagerness to dust off old rocks. ] You've been here long?
( Honestly? Rabid bats chewing her face off is actually kind of tame in comparison to a regular day on the job, although unlike the scholars from Geralt's world? Her job is usually trying to fix other people's mistakes too. Still, she catches that very subtle humour under the flatness of the man's reply, and offers him a broad grin in return. )
I'll sleep on it, don't you worry.
( She winks, then drops to her knees next to her research to make sure she didn't accidentally step on anything in the chaos. )
Anyway, Geralt? I'm Nico. I got myself set up here this morning — I swear it was fine until those bat things decided to get involved.
( No damage to her samples, or so it would seem! Pleased, Nico sits back on her knees to look up at Geralt again. He doesn't much look like a scientist, but they do say not to judge books by their covers, and so: )
[ With the bats cleared out, Geralt leans his shoulder against the rocky tunnel wall. She's already caught his interest, half from what she might have learned and half because—
Mm. Just something about her. ]
Investigating. [ She's right to judge: he's not a scientist. But he is good at finding information from the people who do the research. Whatever's going on, he has a feeling the solution will end up needing someone like him to fix
Or at least linger nearby so nothing eats anyone while they do the fixing. ]
I thought I'd ask around, if anyone's guessed where it all might be coming from.
( Nico sits back on her knees with a knowing look: the red algae is becoming a serious problem, apparently, and she definitely isn't the only person who's trying to get a better understanding of what's going on. If he's interested too, maybe there's a chance he'll want to stick around for a while? Just in case those bats decide to make another cameo appearance.
Ugh. Nature. )
Oh yeah?
( She rakes a hand through her hair to pull the loose coil back from her face — but it promptly falls back to where it had settled before. )
You get anythin' interesting out of anyone so far?
( She gestures to her work. )
'Cause I'm still runnin' on theories here, like maybe it's parasitic, or maybe it's some kinda man-made mutation ...
( You know, that kind of thing. )
Say, if you help keep those bat things from makin' a meal of me, I could share my research with you?
[ Signs of said blizzard might still be vaguely clinging to him, hair damp from the weather. He's only just made it down here once the storm had calmed. At least his company in the cabin hadn't been terrible. And they managed to get the source of the blizzard sorted without anyone dying. He'll count it as a win.
Geralt considers both her theories and her offer for a second. He doesn't dwell long. It's an easy decision to make. ]
Deal. [ He sheathes his sword. He's been told there are bigger things than bats. With some luck, they'll avoid those. He tips his head towards a fork in the tunnels, leading in deeper. ] This way?
( Yup, a blizzard would do it. Nico carefully gathers up her samples so that she can tuck them away into her bag, then stacks the books so that she can lift them all together. On her way down, stashing them in with her phials and jars hadn't been a problem at all, but now that any damage might risk cross-contamination ... )
Hey, you mind holdin' some of these?
( She doesn't wait for an answer. Two of the thick books are thrust towards Geralt's chest so she can hold the third open in her hands. )
Thanks. Appreciate it.
( Have a lop-sided smile as they head towards the fork. A vague gesture is made towards the right-hand tunnel when they reach it, because what's the point in hemming and hawing when it's going to be equally dangerous either way? )
So investigating aside, what's your thing? You, uh ... got a kind of a "look", y'know?
[ His eyebrow lifts when he winds up with an armful of books. Geralt sighs in return to her winning smile, but tucks the tomes under one arm. He wants at least one hand free.
They make their way down the tunnel. His steps are lighter than what one might expect out of someone like him. The smell of the moss permeates the air. There's scratching in some places, echoing in the distance. Nothing nearby, though. Not yet. ]
A look. [ It's not really a question. He knows what she means. He's just still getting used to having to explain what that look indicates. Back home, no one asks. They know.
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trulygifted) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
middaeg2020-07-20 08:13 pm
no subject
Something so pervasive from a singular source is worrying. That's the main reason he's even looking into this, given that he's not getting paid in anything other than goodwill. Some might say that's a worthwhile currency in its own right, but Geralt would say that goodwill has yet to buy him a meal.
He's turning a corner when the shrieking bats draws his gaze upwards. Sharp teeth, angry red eyes. But when he ducks, it's not because a rabid bat has attacked him. It's because there's a really fucking large book coming at his face. ]
Hey. [ It narrowly misses his head. He reaches behind him for a round metal bulb: it rolls into the pack of circling bats and—sits there? Wait. What the fuck—
In retrospect, Geralt knows better than to approach what's effectively a magical bomb (described so by Jaskier, who helpfully provided it after Geralt explained that his sword can only do so much in narrow tunnels) even if it seems like a dud, but there's a woman trying to beat back the bats and the last thing he needs is either of them getting bit. So prods it with the tip of his sword—and promptly gets a sizeable puff of smoke in his face.
He coughs. Ah, shit. It...could've been smoother. But the bats do screech and scurry away, escaping out a narrow opening in the rocks to fresher air. He waves away the smoke as it clears and makes a note to tell the bard-turned-witch the trigger mechanism is not, in reality, "handmade to perfection." (This is what he gets for avoiding Yennefer in hopes of not upsetting their uneasy truce.)
Geralt hands the woman the weaponized tome, dusty but intact. ] You okay?
no subject
( Hey.
Another voice cuts through the ruckus of her own voice and the chattering bats, and Nico quite suddenly realises that she might not be alone in her plight. That's good, right? Sure, there's the embarrassing reality of someone seeing her in the midst of a struggle, but this guys is tall, broad in the shoulder, and looks like he might know his way around that sword. Having some back-up has to be better than dealing with them on her own—which the guy seems intent on proving right away by rolling what looks to be some kind of grenade into the pack. )
Woo! Yeah, you show 'em who's—
( But Nico's cheer dies in her throat as the ball bounces to a halt and does a whole load of nothing. Seriously? The bats are still circling and shrieking as he inches in closer to poke it with the top of his sword—which causes the thing to sputter to life and eject a plume of smoke right into the guy's face. That the bats seem to find it suitably offensive is, in Nico's opinion, nothing short of blind luck, and she flings a few choice cusses after them as they disappear in a bluster of leathery wings.
Fortunately, she's distracted from her tirade by the man's approach. Nico hadn't really got a good look at him when they'd been dealing with the bats, but now that she can see him up close and personal? Damn, if he isn't a serious looking motherfucker. Silver hair, strange eyes, a head-to-toe "don't fuck with me" kind of vibe ... kind of like Sephiroth, kind of like Nero, kind of like most of the men in her life.
Figures. )
Yeah, yeah—I'm fine.
( She takes the book with a raised eyebrow, then brushes off some of the debris before setting it back down next to her research. When she straightens up again it's with a glimmer of mischief sitting behind her eyes: )
Y'know, between you an' that puffball over there, I can't decide which one of you to thank.
( But there's amusement pulling at the corners of her lips. Hey, the thing did manage to get results (even if they came at the man's expense), and she sets her hands on her hips before giving him a pointed once-over. )
You got a name?
no subject
Geralt. [ He bends to collect the glass ball that's rolled between her books. It's empty, with some dusty residue inside from the smoke. Might as well return it. For, ideally, an improved model. He peers through the hole where the bats fled, just to make sure they're not lurking for a second ambush. He has no damn idea how infections affect him here and now's not the time to experiment. ]
You're researching. [ The moss or the area in general? It looks that she's been set up here awhile, with her books and equipment. Between her tools and the fact that she seems not especially disturbed by rabid bats nearly chewing her face, she reminds him of the scholars he sometimes runs into out in their caves or dig sites: the ones that inadvertently disturb some tomb or troll in their eagerness to dust off old rocks. ] You've been here long?
no subject
( Honestly? Rabid bats chewing her face off is actually kind of tame in comparison to a regular day on the job, although unlike the scholars from Geralt's world? Her job is usually trying to fix other people's mistakes too. Still, she catches that very subtle humour under the flatness of the man's reply, and offers him a broad grin in return. )
I'll sleep on it, don't you worry.
( She winks, then drops to her knees next to her research to make sure she didn't accidentally step on anything in the chaos. )
Anyway, Geralt? I'm Nico. I got myself set up here this morning — I swear it was fine until those bat things decided to get involved.
( No damage to her samples, or so it would seem! Pleased, Nico sits back on her knees to look up at Geralt again. He doesn't much look like a scientist, but they do say not to judge books by their covers, and so: )
Is that why you're down here too? Research?
no subject
Mm. Just something about her. ]
Investigating. [ She's right to judge: he's not a scientist. But he is good at finding information from the people who do the research. Whatever's going on, he has a feeling the solution will end up needing someone like him to fix
Or at least linger nearby so nothing eats anyone while they do the fixing. ]
I thought I'd ask around, if anyone's guessed where it all might be coming from.
no subject
( Nico sits back on her knees with a knowing look: the red algae is becoming a serious problem, apparently, and she definitely isn't the only person who's trying to get a better understanding of what's going on. If he's interested too, maybe there's a chance he'll want to stick around for a while? Just in case those bats decide to make another cameo appearance.
Ugh. Nature. )
Oh yeah?
( She rakes a hand through her hair to pull the loose coil back from her face — but it promptly falls back to where it had settled before. )
You get anythin' interesting out of anyone so far?
( She gestures to her work. )
'Cause I'm still runnin' on theories here, like maybe it's parasitic, or maybe it's some kinda man-made mutation ...
( You know, that kind of thing. )
Say, if you help keep those bat things from makin' a meal of me, I could share my research with you?
no subject
[ Signs of said blizzard might still be vaguely clinging to him, hair damp from the weather. He's only just made it down here once the storm had calmed. At least his company in the cabin hadn't been terrible. And they managed to get the source of the blizzard sorted without anyone dying. He'll count it as a win.
Geralt considers both her theories and her offer for a second. He doesn't dwell long. It's an easy decision to make. ]
Deal. [ He sheathes his sword. He's been told there are bigger things than bats. With some luck, they'll avoid those. He tips his head towards a fork in the tunnels, leading in deeper. ] This way?
no subject
( Yup, a blizzard would do it. Nico carefully gathers up her samples so that she can tuck them away into her bag, then stacks the books so that she can lift them all together. On her way down, stashing them in with her phials and jars hadn't been a problem at all, but now that any damage might risk cross-contamination ... )
Hey, you mind holdin' some of these?
( She doesn't wait for an answer. Two of the thick books are thrust towards Geralt's chest so she can hold the third open in her hands. )
Thanks. Appreciate it.
( Have a lop-sided smile as they head towards the fork. A vague gesture is made towards the right-hand tunnel when they reach it, because what's the point in hemming and hawing when it's going to be equally dangerous either way? )
So investigating aside, what's your thing? You, uh ... got a kind of a "look", y'know?
no subject
They make their way down the tunnel. His steps are lighter than what one might expect out of someone like him. The smell of the moss permeates the air. There's scratching in some places, echoing in the distance. Nothing nearby, though. Not yet. ]
A look. [ It's not really a question. He knows what she means. He's just still getting used to having to explain what that look indicates. Back home, no one asks. They know.
He keeps it simple. ] I hunt things. For a price.