middaeg | ( OPEN ) cold ground got a hold on me

The shops that line the streets of Aefenglom vary between familiar and not. Some sell items recognizable to him; others are just strange enough he finds himself curious. This is the latter: a shop the purports to enchanted inked designs. Tattoos, apparently.

Brandings and markings aren't unheard of. But they're certainly not bought and sold as a common trade. The idea of them, though, is one he lingers on. He's not a mage. Magic has never been a deep part of him, as it would be for someone like Yennefer. He still feels its loss, more of an irritation than anything, when he reaches for a Sign that no longer casts. Perhaps --

-- Movement interrupts his thoughts. He glances up, already turning to take his leave. He's not interested in starting something with the shopkeeper. Then his name comes. He frowns. Fuck. He knows that look. It's the same one he'd seen from the man weeks ago. His first few days here. Like they've seen a ghost.

"If you know me by more than name alone, I'm not him."

Waver is already well-aware. Even if he didn't look and sound different as he does, Berserker has shared enough about his encounter with this 'new' Geralt to have given Waver a heads up some time ago. Not that Berserker is the sharing type, so Waver appreciates it even more. Considering how shocked he feels with some manner of warning already, he'd probably have made a complete fool of himself if he'd been completely taken off guard.

As it is, he manages to muffle the sigh that sticks in his throat-- though he can't consciously do much about the way his ears droop unhappily, tail uncurling slightly behind him. This is... uncomfortable.

But that hardly matters now. He has to say something. He has to acknowledge it. There's no point in lingering in disappointment and this misplaced feeling of nostalgia. He has no problems admitting it's selfish, but even so, it seems unfair to Geralt. It's not his fault any more than it is anyone else's who gets pulled in by the whims of whatever's controlling the mirrors.

After an awkwardly too-long beat, Waver only nods.

"Yeah. I know." He takes a step forward, standing at the top of the handful of steps that lead up to the doorway.

"I know your name already, so in the spirit of fairness... I'm Waver. Waver Velvet. This is my shop. Now, is there a reason you were sticking your nose in the window or not?"

Geralt shifts his weight from one leg to the other. He's inclined to leave before the encounter gets more awkward, but he's not exactly trying to run away, either. He's dealt with a lot of strange shit; knowing some version of himself existed here -- built relationships with people here -- isn't one.

A brief pause passes. At least the man has chosen to dump far less information onto him than the previous one. Might as well continue what he's here for. He had been looking for a reason.

"Curiosity." He takes the few steps up towards the shop. "There's some magic I lost when I came here. You can replicate something similar?"

Waver moves aside to let him in, holding the door open. He can't help it, though; as Geralt draws nearer, he tries to scent him again from a closer distance, instinctively trying to place the subtleties of this new Geralt and remember.

The reason seems to surprise Waver. The Geralt he'd known was a Witch, and though he can tell immediately that this one is a Turnskin like himself just by the scent, what Waver didn't expect was for him to miss any magic he'd had. Or to have had magic at all. Geralt had previously mentioned he was no mage and hadn't really been enthusiastic about his designation as a Witch. Waver had even helped him out in those early days-- a trade for Geralt teaching him the basics of how to defend himself with a blade. Then again, perhaps Geralt had only been humoring him.

It's not like Waver can ask the one who stands in his shop now.

Instead, he gestures, a bit lamely, at the waiting area near the door: a couple of mismatched armchairs, a small sofa, and a coffee table saddled with several leather-bound catalogs explaining their services and offering examples of tattoo designs. The shelves around the front room display all manner of wrought jewelry and precious stones, anti-theft warded behind glass.

"I wouldn't say it's similar to actually having magic, but... yes, in a way. You'll be able to use it more easily and conveniently than having to go and buy individual-use charms for whatever you need. It's meant to afford non-humans some measure of autonomy when it comes to using magic."

Waver walks over to the table, tapping one of the books with a neatly trimmed claw.

"I was a mage before being brought here. I understand the frustration of that kind of loss."

But he watches Geralt's face curiously, as if waiting for a confirmation.

More intimately now, Geralt knows exactly when someone's scenting him. No comment comes, but there's a brief glance at Waver as he passes by him. It's awkward. He has a limited notion of what the previous...self of him was like. He's kept it that way on purpose; he doesn't want to know. The man he'd met had described someone Geralt would insist sounded nothing like him. Someone who would help save so many, and earn a stranger's loyalty. (It is, perhaps, deep down someone he'd like to be, but that's not anywhere near a thought he's ready to acknowledge nor confront. And that's not even touching on the topic of Cirilla.)

He shifts his focus to more practical matters. While Waver explains, Geralt flips through the book on the table. Sounds sufficient. A tool that can be made part of him. His Signs aren't critical to his skills, but they're useful. He prefers to have what he can at his disposal in a fight.

His thumb's on one of the open pages of drawings when Waver speaks again. Geralt looks up.

"Not that kind of loss." He shrugs. "Inconvenient, more like." About the same as the loss of his leather gear, which he's also looking to replace soon. He won't compare it to a mage. Not like how Yennefer would've felt had she arrived here without any access to her magic. Thankfully not a reality either of them have to deal with. Although...

His brows draw together. Why would Waver compare it as such? If he's known him, he must know what Geralt actually is. Unless -- ?

No. That's not possible. That he should not be a Witcher in some other life or form is a hell of a joke. (And yet, his mother -- he knows what she was. Is. The magic that filled their home as a boy. It's not a thought he ever entertains these days, but he'd be lying if he said it hadn't arisen in the past, when he'd been far younger, too fucking young and still dwelling foolishly about what other paths might've opened to him.) He shakes it off. Must be something unrelated that brought on the comment.

Ah. There it is; that's the answer he expected. Waver almost cracks a smile. Good to know it's still the same Geralt in some ways.

"That makes sense. The, ah... the Geralt I knew was a Witch, you see. He wasn't very excited about it. So I was surprised you're after magic."

Maybe it's weird to share what the 'previous Geralt' was like, but Waver has to admit at least to himself that he's intensely curious, and it's hard trying to reconcile the two in his mind. He's well-aware of interdimensional and time-divergence theories, but it's a completely different thing to experience something like this first hand. Disorienting.

Must be way worse for Geralt, though. He'd seen that furrowed frown.

"Anyway, all I meant is that, even though I have these stupid ears and everything here--" He gestures up at them, mouth twisting. "I know what I'm doing. Now, what kind of results are you interested in? I'll point you in the right direction if you can explain the sort of magic you'd like to replicate. It sounded like you had something specific in mind."

Oh. That's less fucking bizarre. Geralt relaxes a hint, glad that he hasn't suddenly been slammed with the knowledge that he'd been...something else. Once. Other than what this land has made him and the other. A witch, apparently.

Hard to say what he would've preferred when his real answer is neither.

"No. He wouldn't be." It's simpler to consider his other self in the third person, as a separate entity. Just another Witcher that Waver might've come across. "Our access to magic doesn't make us mages. Doubt most mages would consider it proper magic in the first place."

Yennefer, at least, had found his little spells quaint. Geralt doesn't expand on why being an actual witch would've felt so uneasy and strange. A Witcher's relationship with the mages that created them (and experimented on him) is complicated at best.

He lifts his gaze to Waver's ears and tries not to think about if his own will grow in any day now.

"A shield," he replies. "A kind of barrier. Something that can be triggered quickly during combat."

"I understand. As I would argue that my lack of access to it here doesn't make me not a mage." His comment on what mages would and would not consider 'proper' magic makes Waver snort, and shrug vaguely.

"I don't know about mages in your world, but in mine, most of them are a secretive, closed-minded sort. More interested in playing keep-away from those they think are lesser when it comes to their precious research and secrets than in actually trying to better the study of magecraft as a whole."

Considering he made it a point to assure Geralt he's no less a mage himself for his Turnskin nature here, the disparaging tone might seem incongruous. But it just makes Waver's skin prickle uncomfortably at the mention of what's real magic or not.

"In any case... you're not after proper magic, regardless. We have any number of low-level abjuration spells that can be worked into a design of your choosing. I'll sum up how it works. The ink we use is imbued with magical energy, and the tattoo itself will consist of runic enchantments -- or otherwise, but runic are simplest and most popular."

Unbuttoning his cuff, Waver rolls up the sleeve on his right arm, showing the series of runes on the inside of his forearm, as well as the leather bracelet threaded through with several stones (emerald and obsidian, in this case, though the colors are purely cosmetic).

"Because you have no magic of your own to draw from, you'll pair this with a battery-pack of sorts. Certain types of precious metals and stones can store magical energy. The tattoo's enchantment is set up in such a way that you can use that magical energy to power the spell in the ink. I know it sounds complicated, but in practice, it's quite easy. All you do is activate it with a word or gesture and concentration. You'll describe how exactly you want it to work, and that can be customized to some degree as well."

Waver pauses in the length explanation, looking up at Geralt for any questions. It's still so weird, looking directly into his face. Kind of lucky, in a way, that they met here. It's easier telling him his practiced explanation while trying to get used to the strangeness of this encounter than trying to scramble for something to actually have a conversation about.

An edge of curiosity certainly flickers across his face. He studies Waver for a second. "Arrogance and politics aren't limited to mages in mine."

That's all he offers about it. Geralt lives amongst the humans and the mages and all the others, but he has never been one of them and in the end, it's better that way. They do as they will. He stays out of it. Less often than he ever means to, but that's a topic for another time.

He examines the runes and the jewelry. The phrase battery pack holds no meaning to him, but context tells him what he needs to know. Makes sense. Magic is not sourced from thin air. It has to draw on something. Those rules haven't changed in this world.

He touches the wolf pendant that hangs around his neck. "Precious stone. Specifically?"

His old, silver medallion might have been considered a precious metal of sorts, but his current one, in simple steel, would not. He'd prefer to have imbued his medallion with the energy required. For the sake of practicality, Geralt doesn't like to wear much jewelry.

Edited 2020-09-13 02:21 (UTC)

"I didn't say they were limited..." he mutters, but shrugs and lets it go. He'd rambled on unintentionally, anyway.

His attention drawn to the wolf pendant, Waver considers it. Strangely (or maybe not so strangely) he looks momentarily surprised, his eyes widening faintly in what seems to be recognition, then confusion. He knows what it is; he didn't expect it to look like that.

"Precious stones work best at containing more magical energy and holding onto it in a pure form indefinitely. You won't need to recharge as often and there's less risk of the magical energy deteriorating or dispersing. Metal can be a good conductor or container, but we recommend jewels or sometimes other types of stones. Obsidian works well."

Incidentally, the Geralt he'd known had helped Waver discover that.

"You can custom order a piece if nothing suits your needs. Keep in mind we don't work with silver or iron for... obvious reasons. Well. Not that you could use silver in any case, but-- well." He shrugs. "If you'd like to augment your, ah, pendant there. That can probably be arranged."

Unaware of what's caused the confusion, Geralt only tilts his head in curiosity at Waver's reaction. Has he seen it before? Yes. He must've. No Witcher goes without their medallion, and he's certain the other wouldn't have, either.

The question is in his gaze, but he holds it back. He's made it a point not to ask after his former...version.

He mulls it over. Augmenting his medallion is an option. It's not as if it's the original one in the first place. As Waver noted, he can't wear silver. He's left that one tucked away, untouched for now. If Waver were to look closely, the faintest pink circular mark can be seen on his chest where the old pendant had burned him.

"I'll consider it." He taps the designs on the page. "How long will you need? To arrange all this."

"If you don't need a custom piece, it can all be done on the same day. Though we generally require appointments to make sure we have everything stocked and the right type of ink ready."

The pendant is still a curiosity, but Geralt looks markedly different in general. It's not the weirdest part.

He shrugs.

"If you do want something made for you, then it'll depend on how complicated the piece and the materials are, but if Archer's not on a long backlog, probably just a few days."

He pauses, watching Geralt's face.

"Do you have... any other questions?" Presumably about their services. But he leaves it open-ended, in case the questions are of a different nature. Even if it's awkward to talk about, it feels like Geralt has a right to know if he wants to, if Waver can provide him with any information he needs.

"Jewelry doesn't matter. Art, maybe." He's not especially particular, but if something's going to be permanently inked on him, he might as well have something more than a random symbol.

He looks back at Waver. The unspoken offer hangs in the air. For a moment, he considers asking Waver how familiar he is with the man who'd been bonded to the...other him. In the end, he decides against it. For now, at least. He knows too well there are doors that can't be closed and this one has enough cracks in it already.

Eventually, the questions might get the better of him.

"No," he says finally. "I'll be back, say, two weeks? That work?"

It's just as well. Waver lets out a breath softly, having just realized how tense his shoulders were.

"Sure. I'll pencil you in. Thanks for stopping by."

( OPEN ) cold ground got a hold on me

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