middaeg | ( OPEN ) just a pinch of salt in the wound; you'll be fine

[Now that she has the shrug off, she sort of holds it between two of her fingers like it's something gross and potentially diseased.

She does seem to make the connection, if the subtle raise of one of her eyebrows is any indication, as she looks from his hair, to the flowers, back to where she can see the telltale dampness.] Interesting. I think I would've preferred something like that to... this.

[She meets his eyes again, steady and even, even given her height.] Though, perhaps not in my hair. You wouldn't have happened to have wanted to keep it, did you?

[ What. The flowers? His reply is as deadpan as his expression. ] You don't think it matches my outfit?

[ No. He doesn't want to keep it, flowers nor vase. He pauses, then produces the small vase from the bag he's carrying over his shoulder. It's painted white, dotted with a pink pattern. There are still flowers inside, oddly stiff yellow ones, though the water has been emptied out. But it's possible adding more water will enchant it further. He's kept it only on the off chance he needs to give it to Yennefer to assist with removing the curse. ]

Just don't lose it. Might need it back if these damn things don't wilt off my head.

Ah, then I will wait to make any gifts out of it, unless you tell me otherwise.

[It would look handsome on the table of the person she gifts flowers to the most, she thinks, then has to pause at the sudden melancholy that brings over her. The dull, distant feeling of her Bond, the way there's a staticky haze over the part of her mind she used to be able to retreat into when she needed that reminder of something more gentle.

No time for that. She takes the vase from him, turns it over in her hands thoughtfully as she speaks again.] I don't recommend the bird shawl. You're leaving early, though - nothing else grabbed your attention?

[ Far be it from him to tell someone not to gift cursed items, seeing the bottle of perfume he's taken for Yennefer. But he appreciates her hanging onto it, in case he needs a proper cure.

Geralt pushes off the tree and continues on his way, not one to linger without reason. ]

Not about to push my luck. [ He's had enough experience with magic and enchantments to know the longer he spends around it, the more chaotic things grow. He'd rather take his leave while all he's got are flowers on his head. ] You?

That is probably wisest, in truth. [Maria turns the vase over in her hands one more time, raises an eyebrow, and... it simply seems to disappear in a little flash of magic. For all that fire influences Maria the most heavily, her most practical element is, by far, the teleportation magic she studies.

The crow feathers disappear similarly, but they actually reappear near the house they're both outside.]

I've made enough of an embarrassment of myself, as well. The bar by my house will be opening soon. Nothing there that will curse anyone, that I'm aware of, the 'tender is just a normal human.

[ As the vase vanishes into thin air, Geralt keeps walking, neither inviting nor dissuading her company. Her magic makes it clear she's a witch, which in turn makes her height unusual. To say the least. Not born of a monster trait like he'd assumed. There's renewed curiosity as a result when he gives her another once-over.

It might be this curiosity that has him considering a drink not by himself like he might've. Why the fuck not. As much as he's used to (and prefers) solitude, he understands the value of sourcing information from those around him. There's too much shit about this city he still doesn't know.

So she gets a question he almost never extends to anyone: ] Want company?

[There's a lot of reasons for her to say no - like him, she is sort of a loner by nature. She's fairly certain by the look of him he's a Monster, and that's especially offputting for a Hunter like herself... but... this isn't how it used to be. She's become far more accustomed to the Monsters here and how they act and react to things, and... with the other factors in her life piling up, it's a request she actually considers, and, eventually, acquiesces.] If you do not mind that it is a bit further on the other side of the Haven.

[It is, after all, closer to her house than not - it's not the Sly Seadog (she can't go there), or any of the other dock bars, though, if he's familiar with those.]

I could use a walk.

[ He thinks he knows the one she means, though there are enough taverns around the city to take one's pick. Which is great because now that he isn't traveling from one end of the Continent to another, he's got more free time on his hands and not a hell of a lot of ways to spend it.

It's strange, being in and around a place so much. He almost feels like he lives here. He can't ever remember feeling that way since he's left the keep where he trained.

He falls into step beside her, though if she doesn't interject, she might find the walk is one in silence until they reach said tavern -- though occasionally, Geralt can't help but pluck another flower off his head. Look, they don't technically bother him, but knowing they're there is damn annoying. ]

Then... [Might as well. She's just as quiet as him - there's no attempt to force conversation simply to fill the silence. Honestly, between the two of them, they're probably also scaring everyone else with the Silent, Stoic Walk to the tavern.

It's as small as it looks - the bar takes up the whole back wall, and the rest is just scattered tables and chairs. This time of the day, there's only two other patrons, and the one bartender to staff it. The bartender (an average human, neither a Witch nor Monster) nods to Maria, clearly recognizing her, and immediately reaching down for a tumblr. As he does, he looks at Geralt, expectantly, not quite sure what to make of him, but clearly just waiting for an order.

Maria nods, as though in affirmation to whatever the bartender's reaching for, then finally (finally) says something:]

As far as quiet places go... you don't beat this one.

[ A silent walk is what he needs. He follows her into the tavern, glancing over his shoulder as he does. It's small, quiet. Quieter than even the places he normally finds in off-path villages, really. When there's only one tavern in the whole village and not much else, everyone ends up there.

He orders an ale, which is about as exciting as he prefers it. At least he's got choices around the city. Instead of being stuck with whatever watered down shit. ]

Quiet as a funeral. [ When he reaches for his drink, the sharpened points of his nails, grown thick like claws, are as visible as that of his teeth. ]

I prefer it that way.

[Less people to bother her; somewhat unfortunately quiet considering how the lack of mana cycling has been bothering her recently and the silence just makes the hallucinations worse, but she won't be too picky.] If you yearn for something more busy, the Sly Seadog is down by the docks.

[She does not. Besides, this place sells some of her favorite not-too-expensive brandy, and that's more than enough for her, considering proximity to her house. That is also, conveniently, what is slid across the bar to her, immediately preceding Geralt's beer.

She does watch him, as he reaches for it, though. It's as she suspected; Monster, of some variety. Looks like the flowers aren't the only inconvenient thing he has to deal with.] How long have you been here?

[She knows she's seen him before. A while back. His changes shouldn't be so... minute at the moment.]

I'd rather avoid busy.

[ For the most part. There's some benefit to a crowd; it depends on if they're the type to start something with a Witcher or ignore him in favor of drinking with their friends. Sometimes quiet means trouble more than a rowdy gathering.

But around here, he stand out far less. Even with the changes that overtake him, he's dismissed as simply another Mirrorbound Monster. ]

Going on two months. [ He tilts his head. ] Is there a reason you're asking?

Because I know I have seen - and spoken to you - long before this. [It was once, but he did kind of stand out among the Mirrorbound.

Okay, so they all stand out to varying degrees. The fish-out-of-water effect also tends to last for a while after they arrive too. But he's one of the ones that didn't seem to approve of Maria's old method of... Hunting.

Not that she'll mention that.] Are you aware of your last time here?

[ The lines of his shoulders turn stiff. His expression flickers. ]

Yes. [ Geralt reaches for his drink. ] And it's not my last time. It was his. We're not the same.

[ It doesn't matter what his former self was doing or who he'd met. They're not the same person just because they bare resemblance to each other. Frankly, he'd rather not acknowledge some version of him had been here at all. It complicates matters. Especially where his Child Surprise is concerned. ]

[She raises an eyebrow as she tilts her head to the side, taking a sip of the brandy.] As you wish. [Whether it's treating it as some separate version of himself, or that he was here before and lost his memory, it doesn't really matter either way.

She also can't exactly regale him with tales of the things that "he" did while he was here last that might come back to bite him in the ass, so he can figure all that out on his own.] So long as you are aware someone wearing your face and name was here, and aren't surprised if people recognize you.

[Way to make it sound like a bodysnatcher, Maria.]

[ A wariness lingers in his gaze. Look, the last man who pulled him aside practically insinuated they'd been in love, or at least uncomfortably close -- close enough to bond -- so he's been especially hesitant with strangers who claim to have known him. In case it happens again. Or they decide to throw more information his way about Cirilla.

Body snatching would be far simpler. ]

Trust me. [ He tips back most of his drink, which just about says his feelings on all of that. ] I'm more than aware.

( OPEN ) just a pinch of salt in the wound; you'll be fine

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