middaeg | ( CLOSED ) where the fields are painted gold

[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.

[ 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. ]

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.

[ 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. ]

[A wolf? The memory returns to her almost immediately upon his answer; the injury she'd sustained during that encounter had made sure it would be impossible for her to forget it entirely. She'd suspected that wolf had been more like her than not— a Mirrorbound turned Monster, rather than wildlife, and she supposes she finally has her confirmation.]

I see... it was during the full moon, wasn't it?

[She presses her lips together, just for a moment. Well, it's not as though she was blameless in that situation, either.]

I think I bear some responsibility for that, as well. I was being reckless. Consequences didn't seem to matter so much, at the time.

[ For a minute or two, Geralt is silent. It's mildly uncomfortable but mostly just uncertainty. In truth, folks have been accommodating here. It's not something he's used to. ]

Makes two of us. [ No. Consequences hadn't been on his mind that night. The amount he'd eaten alone -- he's not thinking about it.

He studies her. If her wound lingers, then he can't see it. He hopes that's not the case. He has no idea how hard or how much he'd bitten her that night. ]

You're healed?

I think it's safe to say you weren't yourself.

[Given that she'd tried speaking to him and missed the mark, she's certain that the man she's speaking to now is quite different from the wolf he'd been that night.

She nods in response to his question— it certainly could have been worse, and would have been if she wasn't so quick on her feet.]

Nothing broken, no lasting damage. I should consider myself lucky, I think. What about you? Are you alright? Was I—

[He was here in the middle of nowhere and about to strip down to nothing. That was a stupid question she'd been about to ask.]

... of course, I'm interrupting something.

[ Good. That's good. Geralt pauses, unsure of where this conversation's supposed to go. He's rarely one for company and even less so when he's gone out of his way to make sure he's alone. ]

A bit. [ She could've come at a worse time. Like, say. In the middle of the fucking transformation. If he ever even made it that far. ] Came out here to try shifting out of the full moon.

[ He glances up towards where she'd come crashing through the trees. Not hard to guess what she was out here doing. ] Trying out your wings?

[She nods once more; of course, that was exactly her intention in coming out this way.]

They aren't quite strong enough for full flight just yet, but I figure they won't be unless I put them to good use.

[That, and spending more time getting in tune with her new nature and impulses can only help when the next full moon comes around.]

I have shifting of my own to contend with, as well, but— not quite like yours, I don't think.

[It seems to be much worse for Turnskins.]

[ His head tips, considering her. She doesn't sound like she's been here long. Bit like him. But when they'd met that night under the moon, she hadn't seemed much affected. Not that he can remember. ]

Lost wolf teeth make for a nice collection.

[ He's mostly given them to Jaskier. Look, they've already fallen out. They might as well get some use. At least he never has to contend the health of his dentures this way. ]

Either case, I doubt most are like me. People tend not to be meant for a mutation twice over.

Lost wolf teeth...

[She winces slightly. That sounds... unpleasant. Losing her own to make way for gaining a sharper set of harpy's teeth had been challenging enough just the once, but is he losing his repeatedly...?

She represses a shudder. For all the awful things she's seen firsthand, little things like this bother her more than she would like.]

Do you mean— you had taken on some kind of transformation before you even got here?

[ A vaguely awkward air passes. He's not certain how to make lost teeth sound any better -- because frankly, it's not. In the end, he just moves on like it was never mentioned at all.

He sits down on a log. ]

Something like that. [ It's no secret, what he is. Explaining the full extent of it is just more effort and information than he cares to get into. ] Just less mutable.

[ He never had to shift back and forth before. ]

I suppose having some experience beforehand is little comfort.

[She doesn't think there's much, really, to prepare any of them for what they're expected to face here in the long-term. She pauses, hesitant for a moment before she helps herself to a seat on a stump.

She's already interrupted him, they may as well talk, at least for a few minutes.]

Do you think that's made what's happened here easier, or more difficult as a result?

((OOC: Apologies for the very long delay, the end of the semester and finals hit me harder than expected! I am happy to either continue or handwave, whichever you would prefer.))

( CLOSED ) where the fields are painted gold

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