( SEMI-OPEN ) march catch-all

[gynvael]

Who: Geralt + Various
When: Mareuer // March
Where: Aefenglom; The Wilde
What: March things! Maybe TDM event prompts.
Warnings: n/a



CREDIT | spoilers

[ starters in comments. plot with me at discontinued! ]

OPEN: cats + orphans

CLOSED: yennefer | cloud | mogget

Comments

♞ open to all

[gynvael]

(( early march ))
I. CAT ACQUISITION

[ Geralt's never been one to blend in well, but if you happen upon him now, he's especially out of place: surrounded by a mishmash of Aefenglom's creatures deemed adoptable. A cat winds around his ankles, there's a bastard of a bird in his hair, and something that looks a cross between a dog and a lion barks at him from the corner.

He sighs. What a pain in the ass. He just—look, Jaskier's been spending more and more time in the stable out back. He gets it. There's comfort in an animal's company. The problem is, Roach isn't a housepet, she's a damn horse and he needs to take her often to ride.

So here he is. Looking for an actual pet for his Bonded. It's meant to be a simple affair. So much for that.

He ends up with an arm full of a small dog that seems to be mostly made of cotton balls. The shopkeeper seems determined to find him something for his troubled friend. ]

Don't you have anything... [ The pup wriggles in his hands. ] ...less energetic?

II. ALL WORK AND NO PLAY

[ It's been some time since he's traveled out of the city. The itch to venture further now that Jaskier is doing better means he's packed up his horse and made his way to Dorchacht. The Wilde is rougher in these parts, its people more desperate for a hand. A good place to find a job.

Besides. Something about the unpaved dirt roads and barely-held together shops makes him feel a bit less out of place. Parts of Aefenglom are far too pristine and shining.

There are no contracts he can see yet, but Geralt remains in the city nonetheless. A couple of days, he thinks. Jaskier and Yennefer both know how to get a hold of him if anything happens—but he trusts Yen will keep a close eye on their Bonded.

You can find him in a tavern in the city, drinking, or near one of the orphanages: some of the children seem to recognize him from a few months ago. The play, the one that Jaskier helped write. It feels like fucking ages ago. A lot has changed.

Despite his insistence he's not here to play, Geralt has invariably been roped into holding a replica Shade made of painted sticks and yarn while the children take turns smacking it. The touch of exasperation to his expression suggests this isn't how he planned on spending his evening. But maybe it says something he's here, anyway, humoring them. ]

I.

[cointosser]

[It's nothing new that Geralt is gone from the manor when Jaskier wakes, though the sight of it, every time, feels like another stone piled onto his chest. They've yet to discuss it, though he is quite aware it's from what happened to him. Something the experience brought up for his friend.

He'd only gotten a hint of it from him. And despite it, Jaskier always hesitates to bring it up himself.

He does manage to go out for walks for a bit of sun on the nicer days, his lute on his back whether or not he intends to use it. The weight of it is comforting either way, and his magic keeps it warm, his fingers alive now. (Even if sometimes he looks down and swears they're grey again.) He pulls lightly on the Bond sometimes to craft his magic, securing the feeling of it, of the magic. Sparks will fly, or soft wisps of smoke. He's been working more with heating his fingertips, or cooling them down.

Practice to perfect the spell. He promised Geralt some sort of charm to keep him cool, and it's only fair he aids Yennefer in controlling the temperatures of their home.

Speaking of. Just as he's on his way to perhaps visit the tea room -- for pleasure, since he let himself go once he was released from the Coven -- he spots his Witcher Bonded. With a wicker box in his hand, no less. Geralt? Shopping?

It's practically an impossibility.] Geralt! [He gives his friend a wave, curiousity piqued. These days he was just as like to leave the Witcher alone, but this time he simply can't. He must see Geralt shopping.] What are you up to out here, you scamp?

[gynvael]

[ It wouldn't be the first time Geralt's avoided Jaskier, but this time, it isn't that he wants to be left alone. It's that he's out here for...something he doesn't want Jaskier to see until he's decided to bring it home.

So of course the bard appears out of thin air. He sighs. His plan had been to leave the thing in Jaskier's room and claim he found it on the street before vanishing and never speaking of it again. Maybe he can still do so. The walls of the wicker basket are high. ]

Jaskier. [ A soft meow greets Jaskier from inside the basket. Shit. Geralt looks down, then decides there's nothing he can do except change tactics. He hands Jaskier the basket with a typical lack of ceremony. A small furry head pops out. ]

Here. Take it.

[cointosser]

[It is far from the first time Geralt has thrust something into his hands without zero to little explanation, but often those things are blood-soaked blades, or half-eaten bread rolls, or monster heads (particularly horrible).

This is. Confusing, actually. He stares at the basket. At the small, grey head that pokes out from the lid at the top.

It lets out a very diminutive meow.]

This is a cat. [A very small, blue-grey cat, so small that it could barely reach the top of the basket with its paws.] Geralt, I have several questions here. Why are you running off with someone's cat? Oh, is it haunted? Or for a quest? Finding someone's lost cat is very sweet indeed, for such a mighty Witcher -- Wait! Did you steal it? Why are you giving this to me? I will not be your accomplice!

II

[twilightskey]

[In the latter half of the month, Roxas will have gathered enough strength to return to working at the orphanage once more. The staff has been more than willing to accommodate his recovery from his time kidnapped by the Emerald Circle, but he also knows that if he wants to recover, he can't be hiding inside all day. And besides, some of the kids at the orphanage miss him.]

[But while working at the orphanage and keeping an eye on the kids, Roxas can't help but keep an eye on the strange, white-haired man who the kids insist on playing with. The other staff members don't seem to have any distrust towards him, but after everything he's gone through Roxas can't help but be a little on-edge and defensive. Especially with the kids involved.]

[Though he doesn't actively approach Geralt yet, the akita turnskin does keep a careful eye on him, sometimes outright staring at him with his canine ears upright; a clear sign of caution and wariness towards the stranger.]

[gynvael]

[ Around these parts, he gathers a little less attention. There are Monsters who look rougher than he does, and both the children and the residents seem used to it. So when he senses the careful eyes of one boy lingering on him, it makes him glance over.

His own furry ears lift up, though more in a question than anything. The face isn't familiar. His clothes suggest he's not one of the local orphans, either. For a few moments, he leaves it alone. The boy looks wary, but that's all. When one of the teachers interrupts the children's playtime, Geralt takes the opportunity to break away.

He straightens up as he addresses the staring boy. ] They didn't draw something on my face, did they?

[twilightskey]

[Roxas doesn't recognize Geralt, and while he would normally just be curious, his ordeal with the cult has him more cautious than usual. The only reason he doesn't outright say anything is because the kids seem to recognize him, and the other staff seem to be okay with his presence.]

[Though, once the kids are ushered away by the teacher, Roxas isn't expected to be addressed by him, and he momentarily balks at the question.]

Ah, no... no, there's nothing there. [He frowns, ears angling to the sides a little, before he takes a breath and fixes Geralt with a guarded look.]

I haven't seen you here before.

I. Catcquisition (hope this works)

[petcromancer]

[Hector's helped organize a shelter for strays within the city. Mostly it's an excuse for him to keep more animals than is reasonable for a man (or faun), but occasionally he'll judge someone worthy of adopting one of his strays.

He gives Geralt a long, assessing look, and reclaims the dog from his arms.]

Give me a moment, I may have a friend who could manage you.

[He puts the dog safely back behind a little gate and retrieves the sulkiest, most grizzled tom cat in the building. The cat is missing half an ear and has a crooked tail that tells of battles long past. It had taken no small amount of Hector's faun magic to convince the creature to the shelter. The cat looks thoroughly unimpressed with both monsters.]

What do you think?

[It is a cat Hector has picked to match the man in front of him, not the witch the man is shopping for.]

[[ooc: let me know if I need to change anything!]]

perfect

[gynvael]

[ The man that eventually comes up to him gets a long look of silence as the dog is retrieved and scruffy old cat is held in front of him. Geralt peers down at it. It glares back at him and hisses, showing sharp little teeth.

In truth, Hector is not off the mark for who he thinks wants a pet. It reminds him of an ornery old mare he'd had once before his current Roach. The faintest fondness flickers over Geralt's expression, even if most of that is overshadowed by uncertainty. He's never interacted with cats beyond steering clear of their rising hackles in his presence, until this world. ]

It's a, uh. A gift. For a friend. [ He leans to the side to avoid the cat's swiping claws. For such a battle-worn creature, it has a lot of spirit. Still, Geralt is not an expert gift giver, but he does know he shouldn't show up with a cat that's wont to scratch Jaskier up on first contact. ] Though a cat will suit more than a hound.

II.

[outofthebreach]

[ It's been some time since Brennan's been out in the city as well - since the night of the rescue, in fact. He'd been bedridden for days in the aftermath, and after that had his Bonded fussing over him near obsessively. Not that Brennan could blame him, but still. It was nice to get out and stretch his legs a bit today. The shakiness and weakness he'd been plagued with in the aftermath were slowly receding and he was powering through the rest of the recovery process by sheer stubbornness.

He'd let his wandering carrying him aimlessly so far, no real destination in mind. But the sound of childish laughter has his lips curving faintly as he turns down a side street to investigate.

And then, spotting a familiar pale-haired figure entertaining them, he leans a shoulder against a nearby building to just watch for a bit. By the time there's a lull in the Shade-slaying, his lips have curved into an all-out grin as he approaches. ]

Playing the hero once again, I see.

[gynvael]

[ The familiar voice that greets him makes Geralt look up. Recognition crosses his face. Brennan, wasn't it? The man looked much better than he had that night. It's good, seeing people recover.

Physically, at any rate.

Geralt shifts. Hero is not a word he wants applied to him, really. He puts the toy Shade aside. One of its wooden legs has snapped, but he assumes this is a common occurrence given how eager the children were to smash it. ]

Came this way looking for work. Children pay terribly, though.

II. (in the correct place this time akjshfkjsdf) 🤡

[silentsavant]

[ It would have been easy enough for Soren to continue minding his own business with just a long glance cast the white wolf's way as he navigates the streets. However, things aren't easy when you're popular with the children of Dorchacht.

"Sowen!! Look, it's Sowen, the Dwagon!" pipes one of the boys waiting his turn to whack the Shade. Now that he's gone and pointed him out, most of the other children's heads turn and bob to spot the long-haired dragon boy. Despite his unusually slight stature, his winged, horned, and tailed silhouette make him a difficult mark to miss. He slows his footsteps cautiously, with an uncertainty that can't decide whether to stay or flee. The kids erupt with glee and excitement and begin to flock toward the black-scaled dragon. This creates a distraction for the kid currently wielding the stick, which gets usurped by an impatient little girl, and now they're tugging and warring and yelling at each other over whose turn it is.

"Come play with us!" cries a puppy Turnskin with his shaggy brown tail wagging at Soren. "Geralt's helping us beat a Shade!"

Soren eyes them all warily. He's been surrounded. They're actually starting to unnerve him. ]

... I don't play.

[ "That's a lie! You do too play!"

"Yeah!!!" "Yeah, remember?" "We sure do!" ]

[gynvael]

[ Like all children, their attention span is rapidly diverted. One minute they're intently smashing the wooden doll and the next, they've scattered to a new target. Geralt's pointed ears turn in the direction of the dragon before he looks up a few seconds later. That might not be a familiar face, but the expression on it is. It's the expression of a man who's been thoroughly cornered.

If Geralt were a more sympathetic man, he'd help him out. As it is, the dragon gets a raised eyebrow and a faint flicker of amusement. He offers the toy over. ]

Not going to say no to the children, are you?

[ Look, if he's been roped into this, someone else might as well join him. They're a damn handful. ]

♞ yennefer

[gynvael]

(( HOME; early march; morning ))
[ A few weeks have blurred by, oddly quiet and yet not at the same time. It's not Jaskier's fault—of course not—but the house seems filled shadows that won't leave. Between the restlessness, Jaskier's troubled sleep, and his desire to not have a repeat of their shared little dream stroll, he's spent his nights reading while keeping an eye on Jaskier or simply in the woods nearby.

They must've noticed by now, the bard and Yen both. Yennefer, especially—he's not often there in bed anymore by morning, having long left in the middle of the night. It's nothing. A precaution. Neither of them need a trip through his head.

He catches a handful of sleep around dawn. By the time the sun is round in the sky, he's in the garden by a small pond that he can't recall whether it came with the mansion or was conjured by Yennefer. A few shimmering red and gold fish swim in circles. Too small to eat, though.

His sword is in one hand, whetstone in the other. There's some peace of mind found in a repetitive task. Besides, Jaskier's healed now. Leaving the house again, too. It's time he looks for work that's more than small errands, something that'll occupy for awhile. ]

[chaoticbeauty]

[ Being soft and caring wasn't a strength for her, even if it was a skill she seemed to be calling upon more and more in the last weeks. And there'd been something else she'd found herself missing whilst playing a role she struggled to fill. Or rather, someone. Falling back into old routines of waking up alone.

They'd seemed to fall into a natural rotation, making sure someone was awake enough to at least help Jaskier should he need it, but it didn't mean she couldn't want for at least something to return to a semblance of normal. And allowing Geralt to pull away wasn't going to work anymore. Not when Jaskier was healed. In another life, she might've admitted out loud that she missed him, but that was a luxury she had no intention to allow herself to indulge.

Instead, she frames seeking him out as just a request. Yennefer approaches, keeping herself in his line of sight to make sure she doesn't startle him, already dreading having to replenish all of her healing brews and salves. She just needed to not blink in and out of existence during this discussion and it'd be fine. The frequency with which she'd been dealing with that after-effect was slowing, but it served its purpose as a warning. That she'd exerted too much power that night getting Jaskier and under too dire of circumstances without the same reserves of power she often had. Her dress trails slightly behind her on the ground as she moves, having chosen not to wear heels to walk through the grass. She stops in front of him, blocking the sun slightly with her body. ]

Do you remember the man I told you about? The one carrying his sword in a bag with armor?

[ It's one way to say hello. ]

[gynvael]

[ Both her scent and her heartbeat alerts him before he sees her figure approaching. Geralt looks up. He's been worried about her since that night. Even with the infection mild, he knows what they felt together through the Bond was...

Intense. And she's as likely to talk about it to anyone as he is. Proven when she brings up one of the Mirrorbound instead.

Not that Geralt's much better. He's not the topic at hand here, though. ]

Mm. [ He turns his blade over, examining its edge. Right. What was the name. Ferran? ] Did he finally lose a hand?

♞ cloud

[gynvael]

.

♥!

[bravers]

[Some days after their... adventure... the sun had set, once again, and... weirdly, there's a knock at his door. Well. Shared door, anyway, and honestly- the house of which Cloud and Zack occupy is a strange one. It's far away from any of the others which make up the residential area, has a lot of nothingness around it, and is just on the edge of the forest. Chosen, well, for that reason. Remoteness and all. And proximity.

Regardless. There's a knock, and Cloud drags himself up from where he'd been... watching the staircase (long story.) in order to answer. It's weird. Whether it's turnskin enhanced smell, hearing... whatever, there's something familiar about whoever it is that knocks. So much so, he takes it for a bond. A heavy step...

Sephiroth?

He opens the door.
Whoever's standing there is certainly tall enough. Certainly broad enough, and certainly... silver and cat-eyed enough. But it's not him.]

....

[Who?]

If you're here for Zack, he's resting up.

[Cue the watching the staircase. To make sure he rested up. With house arrest. And yes, there's been more than a few attempts to escape it already.]

If you've got a job with him or something, you're gonna have to do it solo.

[Wait, why is his tail wagging?]

[gynvael]

[ If Geralt were a man more concerned with politeness, he might've given Zack an additional heads up before actually coming here. As it is, he asked where he could find Cloud a few weeks ago, got sidelined by...certain kidnapping events, and has now simply shown up some time much later.

He raps on the door. The scent tells him he's found the right place and he can hear heartbeats behind the door -- though he's half expecting to be turned away. He's not certain how well Zack is doing, even if the man seems the type to bounce back.

He's not expecting to not be recognized at all, though. It shows in the tilt of his head. Geralt studies Cloud for a few seconds. Then his gaze shifts to the spinning tail. Mm. Maybe he sees what's going on here. His time under the full moons had been a blur early on. This far into his transformation and with a Bonded, though? Geralt can't help but find that a concern. ]

I'm here for you. [ He rests a hand on the doorframe, leaning forward. ] We met. Two moons ago. Shared some venison. You threw me into the sky and fucked off.

[ Good times. ]

♞ mogget

[gynvael]

(( THE HARBOR; early march; afternoon ))
[ After a few months now, he's grown used to not being hissed at by every damn feline within sight. He's even visited the tabby that lingers around the children at the orphanage here and there. Down by the Harbor, especially, strays aren't rare. They slink around, usually scruffy and eager to snatch food off tables.

So the sight of a small cat by the water makes him pause. It doesn't look like a common stray, with its bright white fur in stark contrast to the filthy docks. It doesn't even look like it belongs to anyone here. That pendant on its collar seems worth more than the cunes these people make. Is it lost? If it is, it doesn't look like it gives a shit.

He crouches down next to the cat. A small pouch is in his hands: powdered clam pearls he's picked up for the two Witches he now lives with. ]

You're far from home.

[themogget]

[Mogget is busy eating his latest acquisition - a fish stolen from a catch being unloaded further up the docks - when one of his small ears swivels towards the sound of the approaching footsteps. He's more than used to being mistaken for an everyday cat, so looks up without speaking and stares unblinkingly at the man with vibrantly green eyes.

The tip of his tail flicks, and he lifts one paw up to begin cleaning it.

He wonders, as he often does in such situations, what this person may do if they don't realise his level of sapience.]

[gynvael]

[ Hm. Friendly. Or at least, uncaring of a stranger's company.

After a second, Geralt sits down beside it. The docks are crowded and dirty and the air is stifling. Not the most ideal place to relax—but he likes that out here, few give him a second glance. Besides. He needs a little air away from the house right now. Even if that air is permeated with the stink of fish.

What he does is simply talk: ironically, a rarity, except when he's in the company of a creature he doesn't realize understands every word. ]

Did you know I've never kept company with your kind before this world? [ He offers his hand, curious if the cat will let him scratch its ears. ] I imagine if we were home, you'd be throwing a fit at the sight of me.

♞ crowley

[gynvael]

(( THE HAVEN; eostre; afternoon ))
[ The problem with all these damn festivals is that Geralt cannot avoid them. Which is normally not a problem; he's content to steer around the densest of crowds and take whatever free food and drink ends up pushed into his hands. Evens out in the end.

This time, though, the festivities have spilled into the streets. All over. The only upside is that in between the patches of scorching heat, there's the far more tolerable winter snow. Geralt lingers deliberately in the chilly patches of the city where he can: notably, he doesn't seem dressed for the weather nor bothered by the below-freezing temperatures.

Not that lingering is a good plan when there are so many of these annoying little shits circling. Both of the miniature and human variety: he's batting away an especially persistent pixie in his hair when something explodes behind him in a spray of color.

-- Really? He sighs, already reaching around to shake the blue and pink powder out of his tail. On top of a headache of a month, his patience is thin. The pixie chitters in front of him. He frowns at it. ] Will you fuck off.

[sparkofgoodness]

[ This whole festival is great.

Food? Crowley loves food! Drink? Love that too! Pixies menacing people? Brilliant! Throwing colour sprays at people? Incredible!

Even better when the target is as grumpy as Geralt appears to be. Crowley had been mildly interested in him simply because of what he is -- Aziraphale is what they call a 'turnskin' now, and so Crowley is always on alert for people with similar changes. Partly in case he can learn something useful to pass on, partly to assess if they might be a reassuring presence in some way for the angel. Someone reassuringly calm despite it all who might... help normalise it all more for him.

He's also just very funny. ]

Dunno if they understand that.

[ The concept of fucking off, that is. Crowley's wearing his hair short today to keep the pixies from tangling their tiny fingers in it and pulling too much. One is giving it a go -- points for effort, he'll give them that -- but the one currently lunging for Geralt's hair is probably going to have more success. ]

Strong, aren't they?

[ He's helping. ]

[gynvael]

[ Who is—?

Geralt turns around, deeply unamused at being interrupted in the midst of...all this. With his attention diverted, the pixie wraps itself in his hair like a blanket. At least it's not trying to rip anything out of his head.

Fuck. Can't he take a walk in peace? There's a reason he prefers to be in the woods than the city.

He fishes one item after another from his bag in an attempt to bribe the pixies away: a coin, a sugar cube, a small container of wolf's teeth. (His own. If you have to know.) They don't seem satisfied.

His gaze fixes on the stranger. If the man happens to be carrying anything that looks like it could be used as a pixie offering, Geralt will absolutely reach out without comment and take it to sacrifice. ]

What do you want?