gynvael: (hy: 001)
Geralt z Rivii ([personal profile] gynvael) wrote in [community profile] middaeg2020-10-08 08:26 pm

( CLOSED ) where the fields are painted gold

Who: Geralt + Various
When: October // Octeuril
Where: Aefenglom
What: Quests, events, etc.
Warnings: none yet

[ prompts in comments. find me at [plurk.com profile] discontinued for plotting. ]

cointosser: ([048])

[personal profile] cointosser 2020-10-11 05:39 am (UTC)(link)
[The goods news about the recent events in Dorchacht means Jaskier has had plenty of practice for his healing magic. Inadvertedly. The bad news was it made him very much inclined to not return to the city, because he neither needs nor wants to remember how very, very close he was to being devoured by the corpse of someone's Bonded.

A horrible concept once he realized what was happening. The Bonded bringing their companions back to... well. Do all that.

Jaskier sticks to Aefenglom now, thank you. Even if he feels a bit bad leaving the children without their maestro, so to speak, when the play went so well. He should've known that would lead to things going tits up, celebrating a coup.

He walks into his home, the front door unlocked, juggling a bag full of wrapped meats and apples. As he'd promised, he was spoiling Roach a bit. She needed it. All these monsters and things were stressful. Jaskier closes the door with a flourish of magic behind him, giving a little smile at the man on his table.]
Ah, Geralt. Helping yourself as usual to the fruits of your bard's labor.

[That was an excellent pun, thank you. He sets his bag down and piles the apples in the bowl the missing orange had been stolen from.] Checking up on me, are you? Ah, don't pretend you aren't. You'll be overjoyed to learn I'm still alive.

[He knows exactly why Geralt is here, and he will absolutely needle him about it.]
cointosser: ([049])

[personal profile] cointosser 2020-10-17 04:44 am (UTC)(link)
[Jaskier is just placing another apple into his lovely and festive bowl when he drops it, and the only thing breaking the complete silence between Geralt's words and the moment after is the wet thump and the apple's subsequent rolling across the cottage floor.

Jaskier's eyebrows raise into his hairline as he turns to Geralt.

Now, there are some things a man cannot simply wrap his head around. Becoming a magical creature, for instance, over the space of a day. Lost in a sphere he did not originate from. His friend turning into an animal and consuming parts of his flesh. Being friendly towards Yennefer.

And yet, somehow, the thing to top all of that off is the sincerity he hears in Geralt's answer.]
I -- excuse me? [Magic sparks at his fingertips from nothing less than pure, unbridled surprise.] Oh. Oh, ho, ho, you have got to be kidding me. Oh, no. Oh no, Geralt. [He keeps talking, but his words are mired in a lapse of laughing, and perhaps wheezing.] Tell me, tell me -- that was an honest answer from you. That was sincere. Good gods, Geralt, were you cursed?
Edited 2020-10-17 04:44 (UTC)

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cryptsleeper: (why are you like this)

[personal profile] cryptsleeper 2020-10-11 05:53 pm (UTC)(link)
--Indeed it is.

[Alucard's intent was to return home, his foraging done for the next few days. Oh, shopping is far easier, but he likes the use of rummaging around through the wilde as an excuse to be away from the city proper. Sure, his bag may smell like a combination of fish and rosemary at the moment, but that's simply what happens some days.

Running into Geralt is no surprise. Alucard would be a liar if he said it wasn't a relief though, seeing the man in the woods rather than a tavern.]


Another job?
cryptsleeper: (i have an idea it's kind of a dick move)

[personal profile] cryptsleeper 2020-10-15 12:14 am (UTC)(link)
--Hm.

[Alucard's eyes go down to the orange flower, careful to take in how badly wilted it has become. It is impossible to say from his vantage point at the moment, and so he considers that in light of what he actually has seen today.]

I have not. But I did hear movement about half an hour ago, roughly a quarter mile from where we are now. They're low lying creatures, correct?

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sonnestark: (56)

[personal profile] sonnestark 2020-10-13 03:45 am (UTC)(link)
[Well, he'd done a reasonably good job in finding someplace secluded where he wouldn't be bothered. The only problem with that is that Karin has something similar in mind, wanting to find a place to offer herself some privacy without wandering a dangerous distance from the city. The parts of the wilde that are marked as reasonably safe for newer monsters see quite a bit of traffic, but there's certainly enough space for all of them to run or fly or hunt or do whatever it is they like to try out whatever changes they've been saddled with, without running into anyone else— or so they might think.

Her intention is to try and figure out the use of her wings. So far, she's managed some gliding, but the muscles supporting them haven't developed quite enough for her to fly for an extended period. Being out in the open without anything to grab onto isn't much of an option, as a result, but gliding between trees is practice enough, and gives her an opportunity to practice her balance besides.

For someone who's used to relying on her reflexes and precise footwork in combat, having to re-learn how to maintain balance and keep those same fluid movements when she's sprouted wings and talons has been challenging. The hollowed bones also mean her body doesn't respond quite the way she's used to. Adapting will take time and focus— but that focus is shattered when she attempts to land on one of the boughs above the thicket and sees that she isn't the only one who'd wandered out this way. More than that, the figure beneath her isn't wearing a shirt, and he's about to—]


Ah—!

[Her balance is gone along with her focus, and she comes crashing down to land in the middle of the thicket, flailing mid-air until she becomes a heap of ruffled feathers and flared wings on the ground.

Damn it.

She huffs softly, pushing herself up and onto her knees with one hand.]


Well, that's... embarrassing.
sonnestark: (62)

[personal profile] sonnestark 2020-10-20 12:19 am (UTC)(link)
I'm just fine, I—

[She's quick to offer reassurance, even before she's looked up to see who it is that's reaching out to her, though she catches a glimpse of the offered hand out of the corner of her eye and extends her own— only to pause midway when she catches that sniff, her hearing better as a harpy than it had been as a human.

Uh...]


Do you?

[She looks up at him, curious, searching his face as she pushes herself upright and gets to her own feet without assistance. He doesn't look familiar, but...]

I don't think we've met, but I swear I've seen that necklace before.

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whomthebelltolls: (So condescending)

[personal profile] whomthebelltolls 2020-10-13 02:13 am (UTC)(link)
[Not much really surprises Maria anymore. She's been here long enough to get a feel for the oddities, magical and otherwise, that tend to pop up. So when there's a little problem she's pointed to, and she finds a patch of - Well, they're somethings. Somethings that like to eat birds. - she isn't exactly surprised, but she also isn't pleased, either.

Guess that's what it meant, when they'd put up the help wanted ad.

She's not alone, though. Geralt's voice rumbles out into the air, and Maria turns toward him a bit. They're plants, so they're not exactly mobile, so she's not expecting them to be able to lunge and attack... even if she's had experiences with plants being able to move surprisingly swiftly before.
]

That it was. Quite a bad infestation. I wonder if they waited too long to call for help, or if these things are particularly virile.
whomthebelltolls: (So condescending)

[personal profile] whomthebelltolls 2020-10-17 07:55 am (UTC)(link)
[If he doesn't ask, she won't tell him. She just wanted to know if he remembered his last time, and that doesn't seem to be the case, so... moving on with life.

Actually, they seem to get along better this time. Even if he's still as gruff as before. She'll take it - much as she doesn't care for the concept of... companions. That she admits to.
]

Sounds, then, like simply yanking them out will not be enough. We'll need to burn the root system. [Luckily, she is a fire Witch. That'll make it a little eaier.] But we should probably cut out as much as we can first. I doubt they grow back immediately. [She eyes the gourd, the rivulet of blood leaking from the corner of its "mouth"]

... I hope you brought nice, thick gloves.

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hearthebell: (Go ask Alice when she's 10 feet tall)

[personal profile] hearthebell 2020-10-10 10:30 pm (UTC)(link)
[L had started volunteering at the orphanage the month prior, expecting that it would be one more thing to do that he wasn't passionate about, and couldn't see himself getting involved with beyond a very surface level to fulfill the largely arbitrary requirements for what counted as community service in Aefenglom. To his surprise, however, what he's been able to get out of it has been a sustaining activity. He wants to continue, finding that children of a certain age and disposition bring out a patient streak in him. He's able to tutor and listen, and more importantly, he has started to actually look forward to the hours he spends here.

The fact that he was, himself, an orphan probably has something to do with it. There were orphans committed to following in his footsteps in his own world, who he had little if anything to do with. Maybe a cosmic sense of balance demands that he make amends in this way, but in the end, it's far from torture, barely even penance though that was how it was originally posed.

Today, he's reading to some of the younger kids. A few of them have nodded off to his somber monotone, but fortunately, the lesson seems to be coming to its end, along with the hour. Children thrive on predictability and structure, and even great detectives must adhere to it when the bells mark the passage of time.

Dinner for the children will be soon. Everyone is shuffling around according to their schedule, even the volunteers. Given the number of different supporting tasks that exist, here, paths are likely to cross, especially since those especially young ones will need help washing their hands.]


How did you get so dirty? Weren't you in math class?

[The little kid just cackles mischievously as his hands get sudsed and rinsed before running off to take his place at the table. The next one has a question about L's hands, namely the fact that his fingers look a bit unusual, each sporting a thin ring of discoloration near the base.]

Mind your business.

[Brisk, dismissive. That's not up for discussion, since a certain necromancer could get in trouble and little pitchers have huge ears.]
Edited 2020-10-10 22:30 (UTC)
hearthebell: (I'm drenched to the bone every time)

[personal profile] hearthebell 2020-10-16 02:58 am (UTC)(link)
[Though they haven't precisely met, yet, word of Geralt's deeds have even coursed down the grapevine and been heard of a bit by L. It's through the awestruck and rosetinted lenses and mouths of babes, filtered once more through the peculiar place L occupies among the orphans: an adult, certainly, but perhaps not to the heavy extent of the other volunteers. There's a kinship, an understanding that while L does not treat them as dumb kids, they do not treat him as one they need to hide from, at least not as much.

Geralt has been described; he can guess, by sight, who he is, though he refrains from calling him by name until he's sure.]


A healer?

[Pale, fine features pinch in scrutiny and alarm.]

What's happened?

[He quickly dries his hands, jerking his head in the direction of one of the halls before waiting for an answer. It can be explained on the way.]

It's not one of my talents, but I can take you to the infirmary. A healer is on staff fairly constantly...

[For reasons that become clear the more time one actually spends around kids.

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No worries!

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