( CLOSED ) april catch-all

[gynvael]

Who: Geralt + Witcher Fam; Ianto
When: April
Where: Aefenglom; The Wilde
What: family reunions; maybe quests and events!
Warnings: n/a

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

Comments

♞ yennefer; ciri; (jaskier??)

[gynvael]

(( THE COVEN; 04/01; morning/noon ))
[ What semblance of peace after he speaks to both Yennefer and Jaskier—after he's carefully spent his nights back under the house's roof again, though not without some tension—lasts about two fucking weeks. Turns out, there are other dreams than his own past he needs to be concerned about: he wakes with the faded edges of unfamiliar faces in his mind. Only one stands out.

If he has any thoughts of asking Yennefer or Jaskier if they experienced a similar visit to that reality, he dismisses it quickly. How's he to explain it? That he saw the child he'd thought was lost? That she's lived a life with him he has no memory of? That she thinks him so important when he's hardly even known her face?

It might be all it is. A dream. Some part of him knows better. (He hasn't even had time to think about the rest of it: the overflowing magic, the Fae, the burst of the Cwyld that overtook a land he can recognize as part of this continent, with its snaking river.)

He finds himself at the Looking-Glass House in the days afterward. Just to see. Shit, he can't even tell what he's hoping for, and he tries not to let his thoughts run amok. There's no point. He's here to see if the princess will follow through the dream. And he'll deal with where the cards fall then.

It's what he tells himself at least; the lines of his shoulders say otherwise, a tension that might be noticeable to those who know him well despite his casual lean against the Coven's fence. ]

[chaoticbeauty]

[ For a pair that prefers avoidance over conversation when it comes to the more difficult topics, they were often very good at choosing the literal worst time to go rogue. Things have been... difficult as of late. With whatever the fuck that dream was and the revelations that had emerged from it. Revelations she'd wanted to discuss with Geralt, but never finding the right moment. Not when he'd just started coming back into the house and holding something of a more regular sleeping schedule. Having that particular conversation wasn't a priority, at least it hadn't been. But finding him standing here, waiting and watching the new arrivals.

Silently, she moves next to him, taking in the posture and she's about to make it worse. Intentionally or not. Settling against the fence with a breath of space between them, she scans the faces around them looking for what she assumes is the same streak of white blonde. ]

Looking for someone in particular?

[ The question is innocent enough on its surface, but Yennefer is hardly the type to ever ask an innocent question. ]

[gynvael]

[ With every flash of ash blonde that appears, Geralt finds himself searching. There's nothing, though, by the time the sun has migrated high in the sky.

Still, he lingers. There has to be a reason he stumbled upon Cirilla. Why it's happened now, of all times. He can tell the difference between dreams formed of his own mind and those projected by this world.

Yennefer's familiar scent pulls him out of his thoughts. He waits for her to join him first before he glances over. She's a welcome sight—until that.

His tail twitches. He looks away. No. Yen does not ask innocent questions. ]

I'm admiring the architecture.

[ You know. The foreboding spirals and dull grey stonework. ]

[chaoticbeauty]

[ If they weren't bonded and if she didn't care for him in her own way, she wouldn't have pressed. Surprisingly, she's not upset with him for the sarcasm, responding in kind. ]

Of course. I forgot about your passion for design and the art of external structures.

[ A corner of her lips curves, looking up at Geralt to squarely meet his gaze if he looks at her. Yennefer invades his space slightly with practiced ease as she keeps her voice quiet, turning her body so she's facing him without moving to stand directly in front of him. Instead, her shoulder connects with the fence, black curls tumbling over her shoulder with the shift as she gives another scan of the crowd before returning her attention to the evasive Witcher.

To anyone looking on, there's nothing to notice, but the subject of his Child Surprise is a sore one, still too close to their time on the mountain to really keep this fully emotionless. Though, she's willing to try if it means keeping this conversation from turning to verbal blows. ]

Would you prefer to tell me why you're really here or shall I take a guess?

[gynvael]

[ Witchers do not squirm, but if Geralt were the sort of man who did, he might have been. Instead, his uneasiness comes out as a quiet exhale.

They haven't spoken about it since the mountain. It hasn't been relevant for one—he's presumed the girl lost, to Nilfgaard or the chaos of war. One more chapter of his life, closed before it begins. Pushing aside the thought of her had been the most natural thing. Another shard of regret amongst his hundreds. What reason would there have been to bring it up with Yennefer? When he knows she seeks a child she can never have and he's allowed his to slip from his grasp?

He does catch her eyes. For a moment, he holds them, and maybe his silence says more than anything else. Can he choose none of the above? His real preference is neither. Tempting, to up and leave. Too bad Yennefer might just send him bouncing back through a teleport.

His gaze cuts away again. It wouldn't be a guess and they both know it. ] Fuck.

♞ ianto

[gynvael]

(( UNDERMAEL LIBRARY; early April; afternoon ))
[ There are a number of places in the city where he can't even vaguely look as if he belongs. The tea shop. Most of the Aristocratic District. And here, in a college library where Monsters seem to be a rarity.

They must be desperate for helping hands, if they're letting him in on the promise he'll tidy their texts. Maybe they just figure he can carry twice the stacks of books. Either way, after the human eyes him for a moment, he gets through the door. Most of his research until now has taken place in the more welcoming Coven library—but after what happened with Jaskier, and then that little dream walk, he wants more information. It's not only about the Cwyld. It's also the princess. How and why exactly it is that she appeared to him there first. What it all means.

So he's here. Searching. He gathers the stacks of papers, taking them aside to, you know. Sort through them, as they've asked. Technically speaking. He's hard to miss, even without any visible weapons or armor, though it's hard to say what stands out more: that a man like him is present in the library or that he actually does seem to be studying the writings. ]

[torchwoodteaboy]

[Ianto has volunteered to help out in the library for someone self-serving reasons himself. There's no better way of finding out what is in the library than by helping them shift their materials, after all. And he definitely wants to get an idea of what all is there. He wants to learn as much as he can, a tall task he is coming to find as there really is so much information out there in this place.

So he's here as well, shifting books and manuscripts and arguably arranging them better than they had been before. He is an experienced archivist after all, which is more than can be said for some of the rest of the volunteers that have wandered their way in here. Speaking of...

Ianto catches the sight of a familiar figure across the reading room, as much by the sight of him as the tittering the librarians seem to be doing over him. Rolling his eyes at them, Ianto takes it upon himself to cross the room to him. Somewhat relieved to find that the man had been real and not a figment of the dream as so much the rest of it appeared to have been.]

I wouldn't have figured this would be your scene.

[gynvael]

[ The sound of footsteps approaching doesn't stir him until the man stands directly before him. He looks up. If he's noticed the tittering, he hasn't acknowledged it. (He's noticed.)

Recognition crosses his face. Another one, dragged through. Typical. Though the man seems almost to fit right in here. If he hadn't met him earlier in those burning woods, he'd have assumed Ianto was part of the academy. ]

A little lacking in liquor, but I'll make do. [ He looks back at his pile of papers, sorting them into sections that are decidedly not meant for archival purposes and for his own reading system. ] If you're here for these, come back in a few hours.

[torchwoodteaboy]

[Ianto hums softly.]

Alas, they do frown upon such things.

[Bringing alcohol -- or drinks of any kind, really -- into the library. (Ianto would frown on such things too, though that is neither here nor there.)

He casts a sideways glance at the other librarians, who seem to be eying Geralt and his pile of papers warily, before stepping closer and blocking the frowning man's view.]

They frown upon a lot of things. Including the loss of original order.

[He tilts his head towards the piles of papers the other man is sorting through, raising an eyebrow in turn.]

[gynvael]

[ Geralt, too, raises an eyebrow as he looks back. He hasn't missed the way Ianto has chosen to stand in the way of the archivists scrutinizing him. Given their entire lack of familiarity with each other beyond that one night, it's, mm. Interesting.

He turns back to the papers, taking advantage of Ianto's position to quietly record a few images of the writings instead on his little watch. (It's taken a few months, but he's learning.) ]

I'll be finished by the time one of them finds the balls to eject me.

[ He'll leave if he's asked—he's not actively trying to start trouble—but he's also aware that there are times where it's simpler to just do what he needs to and eat the consequences, rather than try and find a way to appease. ]

♞ ciri

[gynvael]

(( splintered off from here ))

[wiedzminka]

[ With a good-bye wave to Yennefer and Jaskier, Ciri trots after Geralt as if it's the most natural thing the world, falling into step beside him. Just like in the dream, she has her sword strapped to her back, and eyes that sharply follow Geralt's every movement as she tries to gauge his reaction right now and how much he might recall. ]

Found yourself a Roach in this place too? Of course you did.

[ The tail and ears are less shocking the second time around, but her gaze keeps drifting to them, curious. The sorcerers at the Coven had told her she had no magical ability, much to her chagrin. Does that mean she's liable to grow ears and a tail too?

...it's too soon to ask questions like that. ]

You remember me this time. I have to say, I'm quite relieved.

[gynvael]

I didn't. She came with me.

[ As horses do. Right through the mirror. Geralt still isn't certain how, but as oddities go, this is the least of his concerns. Roach seems perfectly healthy since, after a week being especially moody about tumbling into an unknown sphere.

Though it likely it isn't the same Roach which Cirilla knows, given the years apart. The mare is waiting at the edge of the path, chewing on a patch of grass on the side of the road.

Geralt takes her reins as she snorts in his face. He glances at Ciri. He does, to an extent. ]

From the dream. I remember our conversation.

[ Not more than that. Anything beyond that strange meeting—he still holds no memories of having...raised her. ]

[wiedzminka]

Came with you? Ah... no such luck on my side.

[ No, it's not the same Roach, but Ciri's not surprised by that. ]

Hi, Roach. Nice to meet you. [ she croons, smiling warmly at the mare and placing a hand on the animal's neck to stroke it slowly if Roach doesn't shy away. ]

I thought as much. That's still one less uncomfortable conversation for us to repeat.

[ Geralt's answer doesn't surprise her either; she hadn't dared hope for more, so this time she isn't disappointed. There are plenty of other things on her mind still, including the need to figure out how to get back to her own timeline since she's already discovered that she can't use any of her powers, and none of this world's magic to boot. But for now, she's decided that having Geralt and Yennefer (and Jaskier, as a bonus!) around is enough. She's not alone, and that's what matters right now. Besides, without her there, the others in her proper timeline are probably safer for the time being than they would have been otherwise.

Ciri catches herself in too many moments of silence, absently staring at the horse's fur. She lets her hand fall, focusing on the here and now, unlikely as they both are. ]

So... [ She looks back up at Geralt, smile turning just a tad impish. ] You are going to give me a tour now, aren't you? Also, I'll need a horse.

[gynvael]

[ Geralt watches her in silence, studying the way she's so clearly familiar with his Roach. He's expected to have to explain her to Yennefer and Jaskier when she showed. He hadn't imagined she'd have met them already, and the fact that she has makes it feel as if she slots neatly into their lives. Even with the gaps between them all.

Destiny, he thinks wryly.

He looks up when she speaks again. Did they tell you you're a Witch? He decides to hold the question. He doesn't wish it, the transformation upon her, but he knows well it's a possibility.

His eyebrow raises. There's just a hint of a smile in return. ]

Seems I've little choice. [ He starts down the street, towards the busier end of the Haven, where the shops are lined. ] There're stable hands outside the city. They'll have something. What did you ride before?

♞ jaskier

[gynvael]

(( AEFENGLOM; post-ciri's arrival; afternoon ))
[ Ever predictable, Geralt has ventured into the woods, settling on the outskirts nearest to the mansion: the space that he's unofficially carved out as his territory, however unconsciously.

His time with Cirilla in the dream had felt almost like closure. The sort of final conversation he'd have liked to have. Her arrival here is different—a constant weight of. What. Responsibility? The awareness that he doesn't know her as she would wish?

He's certain the three of them bearing no memory of her must be painful, even if she's largely hid it. And he doesn't have any idea what the fuck he's meant to do. If there's anything he can do. If she would wish she never arrived here at all.

As for Yennefer—that's a topic that will need time before he addresses it. He's taken Roach on a ride instead, leading her casually along the path before he stops at a nearby stream for her to graze. He sits on the grass, digging an orange out of his bag and beginning to peel it.

A part of him expects Jaskier to show. It's for that reason he's stayed closer to the Wall, in the patch of forest untouched by the Wilde. ]

[cointosser]

[Jaskier is the last person to need a bond to have some idea of what Geralt has been feeling. Not that he's quite the expressive one, but his reaction to Cirilla coming to Aefenglom is... well. It wasn't great.

Speaking with Yennefer hasn't really uncovered what, exactly, this all stems from. It's clearly the princess, and Jaskier is still perplexed that, at the very least, Geralt isn't thrilled to see her. To see the child has lived, been trained, that -- fuck, that someone really cares for Geralt. That sees good in him.

Yennefer, well. She's a fucking mystery. Does she have something against the lioness of Cintra? Perhaps. Clearly there's... something he's missing. And where he would batter Geralt until he got an answer, he's -- well, no one does that to Yennefer. Even a man bonded to her.

Jaskier follows the thread that ties them together, which points him towards the forest. Of course. The woods outside their home (strangely dim and empty without Yennefer) have become Geralt's, he assumes. Certainly nothing has come too close to their home, and after having spoken with other Turnskins and chimeras, he can't help but wonder if it's a part of Geralt's, er. Instincts.

He finds Roach before he finds his friend, tossing her an apple he's brought with him when he saw the empty stall in the stable.] Well, hello Roach! Getting a nice warm walk today! You certainly deserve it. You're an incredibly hard worker, unlike some people.

[He's glad to see her. It means Geralt hasn't gone far. The bond gave him a sense of that, but -- even the dark of the trees can throw him off. He's never thought a horse would bring him any level of comfort, but here she is.

He lays his lute by her side and follows the water, to find a splash of white among all the green not much farther. Of course Geralt has heard him before the bard even saw him.] Taken to brooding by a brook instead of the kitchen, have we?

[gynvael]

[ Jaskier's voice drifts through the trees. He hears Roach shuffle, the quiet thump of a lute settling on the ground. Neither Jaskier's presence nor his greeting comes as a revelation.

Geralt glances over his shoulder when Jaskier finally draws near. ] Roach can't fit in the kitchen.

[ He doesn't argue that he's not brooding. He isn't—he's thinking—but Jaskier has never found much of a difference between the two. Maybe the bard has a point. He can't help but notice Jaskier brought his lute, but not his other, more recent constant companion. ]

No feline today?

[cointosser]

[Jaskier blinks.] Gods, that was a joke. A good one! [He grins, and takes that as a happy invitation for his presence to remain. (Of course, he's never needed any sort of invitation.)] I'd say I was rubbing off on you finally, but we're far overdue for that.

[Given he's such a joy and a perfecter of jokes, of course. Jaskier heaves a sigh, then sits down by the brook beside his friend. It's a lovely day, especially as things have gotten warmer, yet there is still a part of him that still looks over his shoulder.

Jaskier holds out his hands, wiggling his fingers. There's several scratches across the back of both.] I know you'll find this entirely hard to believe, but Burza wanted nothing of my company today. I found her under the bed and she would not come out. Come to find she's stolen one of my duvets and made a nest under there. [Even if she's learning to be an evil beast, there's a soft fondness in his voice.] I can only imagine where she's getting this sort of attitude.

[gynvael]

[ Geralt ignores Jaskier's prodding at his sense of humor (he has one, thank you; it's merely underappreciated), instead sitting back on his hands. The sun is warmer than he'd like, but not so warm that the weather has grown uncomfortable.

He snorts. Ah. So that's what happened. ]

All children fly the nest.

[ Even a kitten in a basket. Or a girl turned woman he's never met. Yeah. He knows why Jaskier is here. Yen isn't the only person he's never spoken to about his Child Surprise. He's avoided it with Jaskier, too, beyond what the bard had actually been there to witness. Though so far, only Jaskier knows he'd returned to find her that night. ]

♞ witcher fam

[gynvael]

(( HOME; post-ciri's arrival; night ))
[ Normally, Geralt would have a closer eye on what's been going on both within and outside the city. A necessity of actually living here: he can't just pick up and leave when he hears rumblings of turmoil. But between Yennefer and Cirilla, distracted is putting it lightly.
 
At least he's made an effort to remain in the home. With Yennefer's absence, he's not about to leave, too, when Ciri has barely settled in and Jaskier is still...getting better. Geralt even feeds the damn cat once in awhile. (It's getting bigger.) 

There might be certain conversations he's avoiding. They haven't spoken about what happened to Jaskier, though it's possible Ciri may have sensed something different about the bard. He's gathered she's quick to notice when something is amiss. Either way, he doesn't want to add to her questions with his own disappearance. So despite all that's on his mind—despite his own hesitance, given how he can feel something not quite right with the bond—he's continued to sleep in the house, tonight included.

His memories slip in and out between the cracks of his dreams. Nothing new, after all this time; in between a flutter of visions (a twisted tree, weeping thick black molasses), he finds himself wandering a familiar dirt path. It's familiar to him, anyway, though time may have worn its details down in reality. The sun is round above, but not as bright as an afternoon sun should be: it feels more like dusk, and there's a chill in the air.

He walks as if he has a destination, though the truth is he doesn't. A wolf pup lingers on the side of the path, grazing in a way that a horse might. When it lifts its head, it bears uncanny human eyes and sharpened teeth, features that a small curly-haired boy doesn't seem to notice as he runs up to it with a half-bitten apple.

Ma, says the boy. Can we keep him?

The scene is familiar. He's seen it so many damn times, asleep or not, and while the details are never quite the same—sometimes it's dark; sometimes he's in a forest or once, in the middle of a Skelligan lake—one thing always remains the same: the woman never answers, never appears, no matter how frantic the calls for her grow.

Ma! ]

[wiedzminka]

[ There is much different. About all of them. Of course Ciri can tell; she can sense the tension, see the glances, feel the heaviness that settles into the air now and again. Sometimes it has to do with Yennefer, sometimes with Jaskier in a way she doesn't understand but doesn't ask after, and sometimes she's pretty sure it must be because of her. But, for the most part, they've settled into something of a routine even as they're all still trying to figure it out. It's a fragile thing, it seems; she does her best not to disturb it.

Geralt has told her about Bonds, of course. After that, she's done her own research, throwing herself into various books at the Coven and the academy, educating herself on the various types of Monsters, the schools of magic, the Cwyld and Shades, maps of the world -- everything, both because she wants to learn now that she's here, and also because it provides a distraction.

So yes... She knows about Bonds. But she's never felt one before. It isn't something she understands, nor is she ready for the tug and pull of the feeling in her sleep, uncomprehending. The dream is different from the one where she met the Turnskin Geralt for the first time.

This time, it feels personal. Raw, like an open wound. Intimate, like a pulse.

The cries of the child startle her. She flinches, turning suddenly. She's on a long dirt path she's never seen before.

She's never seen the boy, either, and yet in her heart she suddenly, instinctively feels who he is. ]

[cointosser]

[Jaskier catches on quickly this time. Much quicker. Because the last thing he sees when he slips into sleep is Burza's bright eyes shining from the light of a candle, and the vibration from her purr on his chest.

And then she's nowhere to be seen, and he's in a bloody fucking forest, alone, where he would never be now. The sight of it surrounding him, towering, sends his blood running cold.

No. Not again.

He can almost feel the pain from his skin peeling off of his arms. But this isn't his, he realizes. When the forest only is dark, intimidating, but not suffocating. (There are no mushrooms on his arm.)

It's not suffocating, at least, until he hears the voice ring through the forest.

Ma?

The Bond grows tight, sharpening around him, and that does take his breath away. It's Geralt. Sure as anything, he knows this is Geralt's dream, his fears -- if they're lucky, a fantasy. But it never has been so far, has it?

And no Yennefer to come save him. Them.]

Geralt? [Jaskier's voice cracks over the name as he hugs his arms around him, the air bitter cold. His heart is thumping too hard, too fast. He can't be here alone. He can't -- every snap of a branch, a rustling leaf, could be prefacing the appearance of a portal.

He follows the echo of the voice, and stops when he sees another figure. He grabs at the dagger at his side.

It's actually there. His knife.] Geralt? [It's the white hair. But as he steps closer, and his eyes can focus, they're too slim to be Geralt. But that voice, young, confused -- it only made him think of Geralt.

Wait.]

Ciri? What the fuck are you doing here?

[It should've been just him. Or Yennefer somehow, despite the distance.]

[chaoticbeauty]

[ Yen hadn't thought about how the distance between their waking selves might correlate to a dreamscape, but she gets her answer as her sluggish form is pulled from its empty sleep into something far more treacherous. Something that she felt she might have to take responsibility for somehow. She didn't need to hear or see anything to know who this likely belonged to, swallowing down her own stubborn pride to rectify this situation as quickly as possible. Before too much transpired and too many questions were raised.

It takes her a few moments to follow the bond, too long -- too slow. She walks, her steps quick and determined. Fuck.

Faintly, she can hear Jaskier, shifting her direction to move towards him. She remains cloaked in shadows for the time being, unsure if her presence would be a welcome one or only add to the chaos. Here, but not. Watching and waiting, seeing how Jaskier and Ciri handle it -- looking for Geralt's adult form to present itself. She couldn't be there to help them every time.

At least, that's what she told herself. She'd show herself if they needed her, or she'd ensure they would all wake up without forcing anyone to join her in the carnage, not trusting herself to have the strength to focus enough to shift the dream. Not like with Jaskier. The complicated layers of emotions weren't there for them. There were certain risks attached to trying to manage this in Geralt's dreams, too much unknown and unseen to predict if it would work. Geralt's mind not quite as... pliable as Jaskier's. ]

[gynvael]

[ The landscape flickers. There's a woman, he thinks, with fiery hair until she turns around and he realizes it's a familiar ashen blond.

Geralt stops in his tracks. He's accepted that Jaskier and Yennefer might chance upon his mind. It's happened before between them. But this is—

Jaskier calls Cirilla's name before Geralt can do so. He spins around. Fuck. (And Yennefer? He can sense the distance in their bond. If she's learned to protect herself by now, he wouldn't be surprised.)

It's funny. Compared to their other dream walks, this one is almost quiet. There's only a long empty path that stretches into the darkness, a singular star in the sky, and one lone child crying into a greying wolf. But the grief and fear that soaks the air is violently sharp. It leaves a bitter taste in his throat.

When he finally reacts, it's to lower Jaskier's hand with the dagger. He's never approached any vision of himself as a boy. He's not about to start now. He takes Ciri's arm and nudges Jaskier away. He doesn't know where the fuck they're meant to go, but staying is not an option. ] Come on. We can't be here.

[ He's trying to leave, at least—only the boy has somehow attached himself to Ciri's leg. Don't go.

His reaction is instinctive and instant, a primal need to put an end to this bullshit before it goes any further: there's a startling lack of gentleness when he grabs the child to pull him off of her. ] Stop that.