( CLOSED ) where the fields are painted gold

[gynvael]

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

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

Comments

jaskier.

[gynvael]

(( HAVEN; 10/08; noon ))

[ Given that Roach is stabled at Jaskier's cottage, Geralt finds himself in and out of the bard's house often. Between Yennefer and Jaskier, Geralt's set foot in his apartment to sleep. That's about all. (It still only has exactly two chairs and a bed.)

It's not for Roach that he shows up this afternoon, though. He's here for two reasons: because he needs...some magical assistance (fucking thorny badgers) and because Jaskier had entered the nightmare city with him not too long ago. He's not worried, obviously. He'd feel something stronger through the bond if Jaskier were deeply affected. Still, he's.

Fine. He's checking up on the bard.

Geralt doesn't knock when he arrives. Jaskier never officially gave him access; second week here, the door simply clicked open when he arrived. Geralt never asked. Didn't bring it up, either. Since then, the door's always been open for him, whether Jaskier's home or not.

He went into the empty kitchen and perched on the table, taking an orange for himself while he waited for the bard to appear from wherever he'd gotten to. ]

[cointosser]

[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.]

[gynvael]

[ His wait is a patient one. Geralt peels the orange -- fruit is plentiful here; a welcome change from his limited diet while traveling backroads -- and senses his Bonded returning before he hears the familiar cadence of his footsteps.

He doesn't look over his shoulder as Jaskier enters, just pops another slice of orange into his mouth. He knows what's about to happen. He knows because it was happening all fucking afternoon with Lightning. He's accepted it. Jaskier is the only person who can help him where saying too much won't cause a potential disaster. Probably.

Ideally.

Sure enough, the confession comes despite himself. ]

Wanted to see if you were okay. After the nightmare horseshit. [ He snaps his mouth shut and sighs. Fuck. He hates the damn magic in this place. First the moths. Now these walking vines. ] And I need...a favor.

[cointosser]

[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?

[gynvael]

[ Shit. A mistake. That's what this is. Geralt keeps his mouth firmly shut in case he's inclined to say anything else. Not that he can get a word in edgewise while the bard laughs like a damn fox. ]

Fuck you. [ There's no heat, only resignation. He rolls his eyes, but offers an orange flower on a thorny vine for Jaskier to look at: plucked from the shambling bushes.

It's not exactly a curse. It's close, though. ] Seems to be caused by its secretions. Can you help or not?

[ Look, he's willing to offer payment in the form of another sincere truth or two. There are worse things to be cursed with. Not that this isn't fucking annoying. ]

alucard.

[gynvael]

(( WILDE; 10/06; morning ))

[ The second time he goes looking for these creatures, they're easier to track. Knowing their scent means he picks up the trail with far less time wasted.

And yeah. He makes sure he's alone this time. Lightning is not the worst company to have when struck with an uncontrollable need to speak the truth, but he'd rather not do it twice. He's also resigned to the fact that it'll most likely happen again. As long as he's alone, it's fine.

Of course, this means company is exactly what he ends up finding. That's just how it goes. At least it's only Alucard. Long blond hair, those unusually silent steps. Natural habitat in the forest. Hard not to recognize who it is right away. ]

Now this is more familiar.

[ Than last time, he means. In the woods instead of the tavern. ]

[cryptsleeper]

--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?

[gynvael]

[ Little surprise comes to him when he can smell the fish Alucard has apparently been gathering. He bends down to pick up a small orange flower: crushed, but recognizable as the ones that bloom on the badgers. ]

Walking bushes. [ He stands up, offering the blossom to Alucard. ] Flowering. You've seen them?

[ Of all the things in the woods, they're harmless enough. Though he's not sure they're native to this land. Seems suspiciously like a gardening experiment gone awry. ]

[cryptsleeper]

--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?

[gynvael]

Foragers. [ Geralt confirms, straightening back up. ] They've been in the area.

[ He heads off in the direction Alucard indicates. Not that he's in a hurry nor pressed to complete the job. As far as contracts go, this one's simple. The kind he's taken as a way to earn some coin while he goes for a walk in the woods.

He glances over. ] Fish for supper?

karin.

[gynvael]

(( WILDE; 10/10; evening ))

[ Since he's sprouted claws and fangs and, on occasion, turns into a damn wolf altogether, Geralt's decided it won't go amiss to figure out exactly how and when he can change on his own. He doesn't like it still, what's happening to him. He also doesn't need to like it to recognize it has its uses.

The process will be shit. Other Turnskins seem to take to their shift more fluidly; whether it's because his body had already been forcibly transformed long before the magic in this land took hold of him or it's just his fucking luck, his own transformation tends to result in him leaving behind teeth and skin and hair.

It needs to be done. So here he is, in the middle of the woods, fully ready to snap his own bones. Geralt's found a thicket of trees, hoping it means he won't be interrupted. Last thing he wants is someone stumbling on...whatever's about to happen. He's not sure. It seems he'll find out soon.

He pulls his shirt over his head, letting it drop to the grass, then began unbuttoning his trousers. (The other last thing he wants is having to get new clothes after shredding his. Again.) ]

[sonnestark]

[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.

[gynvael]

[ His head snaps up when he senses something nearby. Or rather, someone. Who tumbles, crashing straight through the trees. So much for a secluded couple hours in the woods. He should've known better.

He pauses, then does up the button on his trousers again. ]

You okay? [ As he bends to offer her a hand up, that red hair and the wings catches his attention. Wait. Geralt peers at her. He knows her. Kind of. Was she...?

His hand hovers. Recognition along with some uncertainty crosses his expression. He sniffs, with only a vague attempt at being discreet. ]

I know you.

[ Maybe. It's still a blur, but if there's one thing that sticks with him where a face might not, it's a scent. She smells familiar. Red hair, too. ]

[sonnestark]

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.

[gynvael]

[ There's only one reason someone recognizes his medallion and not his face. It all but confirms it. ]

You saw it on a wolf. [ He reaches for his shirt to put it back on again, now that his plans are waylaid. This isn't the conversation he anticipated having. Still, he has little intention of sidestepping it, either. The explanation comes bluntly. ] I tried to eat you. Sorry.

[ It hasn't happened again, though he's been cautious since, sticking with his Bonded during the nights when the moon is risen. He's well aware he was lucky no one had actually been killed that night. ]

lady maria.

[gynvael]

(( AEFENGLOM FARMS; 10/11; noon ))

[ The first farmhand he talks to tells him about an infestation that has hundreds of teeth, I'm tellin' ye, and shows him -- almost a bit too eagerly -- exactly what those teeth did to his finger. Geralt presumes a living creature. A natural assumption. Which means he's wrong. They are not, as the next woman he talks to shows him, creatures. Not exactly. Though they are living.

When they show him the problem, the vines are everywhere. They curl across the patch of farmland, twisting into gnarled knots that sprout bright orange bulbs. As he studies them and tries to decide how best to proceed, a sparrow lands on one gourd. It opens up its fleshy orange maw and promptly devours the bird in a spray of blood and feathers.

Geralt crouches down by the vines. Is he getting paid enough for this? Feels like he's not getting paid enough. He should've asked for more.

He picks up a feather. About the only thing remaining of the bird. ] Unfortunate choice of perch.

[whomthebelltolls]

[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.

[gynvael]

[ Bad is an understatement. They're curling through most of the pumpkins. It's obviously not a job for one, which seems to be the case for most problems around these parts. These days, he's gotten a little more used to having company on a contract. Even if it's not his preference.

Still, Maria gets a nod in acknowledgement. They've only spoken once, and he deliberately hasn't asked about how much she knows of his previous existence. Not his concern. He's learned more than enough from Ciarán. ]

My estimate? Both.

[ He gets up, letting the feather flutter to the ground. The gourd looks innocent with its teeth tucked away. Aside from the small splatter of blood. ]

Woman I spoke to said they grow back twice thick when they're cut off.

[whomthebelltolls]

[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.

[gynvael]

[ If it can't be killed with a blade, then fire would probably do. A simple but effective philosophy. ]

Mm. [ He does, in fact, have gloves on him. Along with a hunting knife, which he pulls out and begins slicing through the first vine. The fleshy bulb opens its mouth. Rows of teeth flash in a soundless scream.

Mildly unsettling. He sniffs the plant now that its limp in his hand. Nothing unusual. Just blood and a hint of pumpkin. ] Carnivorous gourds have always been on my dining list.

[ He hadn't planned on weeding when he took his job, but here he is. Where the fuck did these even come from? They can't have sprouted naturally.

Then again, he's long suspected some witches here have been experimenting with the flora and fauna. Given the blind badger bushes he'd come across not too long ago, either. ]

L.

[gynvael]

[hearthebell]

[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.]

[gynvael]

[ It's not his intention to get roped in with the children. Between Yennefer hiring their assistance, though, and the cat he pulled down from the tree a couple weeks ago, he's become...known. By a small handful of them.

When they accost him on the street as he's passing by (look, maybe he's checking in, just a little), he's resigned to resolving another lost pet or a missing toy. Instead, they pull him along until he finds a girl under a tree, clutching her ankle.

Ah. Shit.

So that's how he ends up here, peering around the corner of the orphanage with two kids at his tail and a girl in his arms. He can hear the sound of pots and pans, and children running. Must be someone here. Alex? The merrow? He'd run into her the last time.

It's not Alex he finds. The face is a stranger, but he seems to work here. Good enough. ]

Hey. [ Geralt clears his throat. ] You have a healer around? Or supplies?

[hearthebell]

[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.

[gynvael]

[ His gaze drifts over the figure in front of him. Feels like if Geralt walked by, the man might topple from the breeze alone. He's not...?

Mm. He'll find out in time, if it's something to know. ]

Found her under a tree. [ The girl is sniffling, but also seems content eating what can presumed to be candy, so Geralt figures she'll recover fine. (It can be presumed candy. Truth is, it's a sugar cube. Initially meant for Roach. It's what he had on him at the time.) ] She must've been up in it, at some point.

[ He follows along through the orphanage. First time he's been inside; for the most part, it's out on the streets where they've caught up to him. He's made a point not to be mistaken for someone who actually works here. Children and Witchers don't mix.

Never mind that somehow, he's here, anyway. ]