☆ Event: A Tale of Two Cities

[faileas]

Event Log: September, A Tale of Two Cities

I. THE TRIP OUT On Septeril 5th, those who've agreed to go as dignitaries to Dorchacht will meet with Nerissa Bell in the Coven's foyer. Given the group is a little large, and the boat they've procured for the voyage would be a little crowded with all of them on it, she suggests there be two groups: the first one will go now and will return around the middle of the month, while the second will depart a few days after the first group returns, just to give them some breathing room. a. DIGNITARY: THE SHIP Those joining Nessie are led to the docks, where an old ship is being scrapped down, barnacles removed and hull shined to perfection. Sailors call to and fro from on board, buckets of water thrown off the side away from the docks and there's a tingle of nervous excitement from the gathering crowds come to wish the dignitaries and ambassadors a bon voyage. She's of a medium size, able to hold her crew and half of the assigned dignitaries with little trouble, and from top to bottom the moose-like Faun of a captain calls her a seaborn miracle; short of a sea wyrm, she's never faltered nor fled the waves, but he'll admit that she's been more a fishing boat than anything the past couple years. Judging from the way his tuffed tail lashes in excitement, he's thrilled to be out on a real voyage again -- even if it's to those notoriously unfriendly blokes 'round the corner of the map, haven't been in decades time and they've always been up their own arses about this and that. While dignitaries are supposed to relax the best they can on the four day trip, the captain doesn't seem to mind offering work to those interested in learning the way of the sea or with the know-how already, eagerly asking the Mirrorbound about their experiences beyond the glass... much more than he is about talking about himself outside of his ship, who he loves a great deal and sings the praises of up and down the hour, through sea shanty and spoken word. His large antlers don't seem to get in the way of his work nor bar him from getting in and out his quarters, but watch out! They are large and they do hurt. All's not well going to and from Dorchacht, though, as while the waters are safer than the land by far, there's plenty of dangers within the deep: Infected Merrow swim in the shallows, singing sweetly from rocks that jut out at the shore, and some more adventurous ones try their luck closer to the boat too. The captain's Navigator, a Witch with just as rowdy an attitude if more polite a tone, can manage a deafening spell on the ship to keep any from falling seaward, but asks that those who can to rid the ship of those terrible pests, whether by cannon, magic, or something else similarly ranged. Oh, it'd be perfectly alright if they killed them, plenty of them out here in the sea and growing ever more, but if they simply want to scare them off then by all means! There's also all manner of sea beasts as well, from krakens on the smaller side to the mentioned sea wyrms earlier, though the captain'll say that they're just babies compared to the mother he'd faced last year -- still troublesome little bastards, best put down before they're drowned themselves, but nothing to turn tail at. Outside of these... troubles... there's disorderly sailors of Monster and Witch alike, the former being compromised primarily of Turnskin and Faun for heavy lifting, with a Harpy in the crow's nest to help with speed, and the latter being those specializing in Divination and Astrology for directions, as well as some elemental manipulation from the Evocation course. Unlike the proper Coven trained, they seem like they're a little more unconventional with their magics, using "shortcuts" and combining spells to great effect. When they're not on the clock as it were they enjoy a great deal of ale, howling stories and song, pushing each other around whilst the journey's bright and startlingly serious when things turn south. Be careful you don't get in a fight, or perhaps you'd like to show your stuff in a little competition: They're willing to do anything to pass the time. b. ESPIONAGE: THE DEVICE Upon hearing that there are some who would be interested in investigating the device that Mhairi mentioned, a young Witch opens up the room it's being stored in now to allow them a chance to check it out. They warn that it isn't particularly cooperative, but maybe those with some knowledge of magitech - or their world's equivalent - might be able to help? While not exactly the largest device around, it's one that stands out. Something resembling a Tesla coil stands atop the piece of tech, tall enough to almost reach the ceiling of the rather tall room, and various dials and knobs and gauges adorn the outside of it. Those who are perceptive to magic - training in detection spells, or who have a good sense for it, or even a sixth sense for something poised to happen - will be able to note that there's a sort of... presence in the room. It continues to build up, the more people that come in to investigate. Anyone that tinkers with it, has active magitech on their person, or even uses magic in it, only help to build the sensation. And then, when enough Mirrorbound of both the Witch and Monster persuasion are in the room - A whirring noise fills the room, as the device comes to life. There isn't any time to vacate the room, because whether it was an intentional thing to activate the teleporter or not, it's activated. The intention of using it for travel to Dorchacht remains embedded in it, and from one moment to the next, the group in the room find themselves not in the Coven, but in the midst of trees. All around you is the forest just beneath the cliffs outside of Dorchacht. In the distance, if one looks hard enough, they might be able to spot the Black City itself. Besides the storage room of the Coven vanishing in a flash of light and electricity, the device is absent, too. Some of its smaller parts can be found scattered in the craggy grass at your feet, in the roots of trees, as if it completely fell apart the moment that the magic was activated. Whatever you had on your person, when you left? It's all that you have, now. And there's no way back from here. (Notes: Some small reminders - the boats take 2 days to reach Dorchacht, meaning they take 2 days to come back as well, and the teleportation device used by the espionage team is a one-time use only. The espionage team will be able to return to Aefenglom at the end of the month courtesy of some inside help, using a similar device that managed to bring them there in the first place. The Watches can be used on the ship, but are prone to static and dropping calls. Communication is possible from Dorchacht, though voice and video both feel a little muffled.)

II. DORCHACHT It's déjà vu. While Aefenglom is known for its dusk-hued skies, made of lustrous pinks and purples and blues, this city is dreary to the core. The streets are covered in a perpetual fog, not unlike the city you hail from, but thicker, denser, tinged with the flavor of industrial smog from the factories whose spires you can see in the distance. Magitech lights - lanterns above doors, street posts, flickering in the windows you pass - illuminate everything throughout the entire day, as if the sunshine can't reach through the foreboding fog nor the onyx walls. Even the windows are barred, offering a paranoid protection against the outside world. Doors seem hardier, and each building is reinforced and protected in a way that may feel familiar to those that have encountered the protective magic wards. They're heavier, leaving an almost ominous presence that causes unease to hang just as heavy in the air as the smog. The people of this city are just as dreary as the streets, though they do mill about with the same frequency as any city. Those from Aefenglom may recognize familiar faces, and they might find themselves looking twice at you, as if some part of them remembers you as well. Something seems... off, however. There are fewer Monsters in the streets than there were in the dream, though it isn't too hard to catch a glimpse of one here and there. The streets even seem a little more cleaned up than they once were, as one makes their way down them. At the heart of the city, dignitaries will be brought to the Coven. There, they're greeted by a slender and elegant woman, eyes bright and clever, but just as sharp as the red-lined smile that she offers her visitors. "Nerissa Bell," she begins, tone polite if clipped. There's the sense of a woman who won't waste words from her person, and she turns her eyes towards the dignitaries. "You must be the charges she spoke of. Mirrorbound, they call you?" A shallow inclination of her head, barely called respectful, as she smiles wider, in a way that would be kind if knives were made to be dull. "A pleasure. I am Morgana Drummond, head of the Coven here, and I welcome you to my city of Dorchacht, the safest haven against the Cwyld across all of our poor Geardagas." a. THE COVEN Morgana Drummond gives them a quick tour of their facilities, speaking lightly of the curriculum they have here that differs from Aefenglom's own (more of a focus in manipulation spells, be it the sort of commands that have become such a familiar sight to things such as perception and "paths" that can be seen through scrying, the other areas of practice more of "extra" than essentials) as well as allowing them to peek in on some lessons taking place. They won't be able to interact, but it is admittedly of a higher feel than what Aefenglom asks, though it's simply the seriousness of the atmosphere giving that impression. After showing them to where they'll be staying within the Coven's hospitality as well as mentioning the areas of their infirmary, library, and welcoming the Witches to try a hand at their lessons, she and Nerissa part from the characters as a whole to discuss the business of the month. There is a notable increase in guards, both around Morgana's person even within the Coven's walls, as well as the building itself. They seem to be in the business of keeping people on a kind of "railroaded" layout of the Coven building, but can be distracted for a quick peek -- the real help comes from those with triple stars hidden in plain sight, beneath the brims of hats and worn as idly jewelry and easily missed charms. These sympathizers will actively seek those out to speak with them, to let them know that even here there are those that would like to see change brought to Dorchacht, and assist in entering places that Mirrorbound otherwise would not be able to enter. Such as the library here, which contain higher level spells including the enchantments specific to the city walls. The history is just as muddled as it is in the later mentioned public library, the "when"s being vague and the like, but depicts Drummond's rise as the head of the Coven: She came to Dorchacht on a ship hailing from Aefenglom along with a number of other Witches and rose above the rest to become the esteemed leader she is now. Without her, many of the text will agree, Dorchacht would not be as it is now. Those with any notable signs of infection may be asked to step aside and allow Dorchacht's Witches to give them a check up -- better safe than sorry -- and this goes for Witches and Monsters alike. They'll be brought to the double doors that were so heavily secure within the dream, whether they'd like to be or not, and escorted inside. b. THE CITY Unlike the dream, things seem to be more... well-behaved. Auctions have been moved from the pavilion and in its place are genuine vendors to purchase from: Food, clothing, toys, trinkets, protective spell scrolls, all manners of things. There's still Monsters around, a little more tidy than before, but they hold the same stares they had in the dream, pinched expression and disinterested in conversation. There are signs that lead way to auctions if one is truly curious to see the extent of that terror, to gain insight on the situation there, but tailing someone might be hard within the twisting turns of the new bazaar. Another notable part of the city that can be accessed by those dealing in espionage include the barracks if they pose as hopefuls to join their ranks as handlers for their Monsters, which are collared in a familiar way to the dream, and seem reactionary to quick movements -- they're explained to be the essential frontline of what constitutes as a military force, very important, Mirrorbound Monsters beware you not suffer the same fate. The next place one might seek out is the library: While this is all deemed public knowledge, it offers insight into the kind of history and mindset that's been bred the past decade at minimum. Books regarding the dangers of Monsters, how to care and train them, practical spellbooks for those untrained by the Coven proper... The history books themselves are vague in regards to the "when" of things, and seem to be more contemporary in comparison to how old the city feels itself. There's a variety of more cultural knowledge such a cookbooks (including those dealing with monster parts) and floriography (more dour meanings compared to Aefenglom's flurous), but the relevant ones have been noted thusly. c. THE RESISTANCE Whether you're espionage or dignitary, those seeking the Resistance know what to look for: a trio of stars (some worn more openly than others), protests against the city's treatment of Monsters, and dispelling runes on the walls. Once proven that you're friend over foe, they're more than happy to have the assistance of any Mirrorbound in their company: A fight against the current practices is a fight they're for, after all. Riot! Disrupt the peace! The auctions, while a little more downplayed than in the dream, are still going, and the Resistance has good word on where they're being held in the grand city. Their goal? To cause a disturbance big enough to distract, but not big enough to catch Drummond's eye... that said, with her having to play the nice host to Aefenglom's associates within the main building, there's more to get away with. Free the Monsters! Whilst distracted, other members of the Resistance plan to dispel the runes in certain areas and smuggle off what Monsters they can, valuing quantity over quality. While the more mind-broken may resist heavily, it won't be hard to find Monsters of all kinds (save Dragons and Fae, which are notably absent from the auctions and city in general) accepting help to escape, eager to think for themselves once more. Find a way for them to escape the city safely, but know that the docks are heavily guarded in case of stowaways. Free the city! Kind of. A third party of Resistance members are looking to weaken the enchantment on the wall of Dorchacht itself, meaning they'll be looking for those brave enough to tread outside the city and into the Wilde just beyond its protective gates to take a look at and inscribe runes to hopefully diminish the compulsion in place right now. It won't be immediate, but it'll help in the future... just be careful, there's plenty of danger beyond the wall to contend with. As an interesting note, while the Resistances' bonded pairs are definitely unlike Dorchacht's compulsion-based ones, they're not exactly like Aefenglom's either: They call themselves comrades and partners, brothers/sisters in arms, giving it more of an equality forged from the same brass than something to do with convenience. (Notes: Those being willing, or unwilling, participants in the check-ups may reply to the top level there with how visibly infected they are for a special treat! Only for this month.)

III. AEFENGLOM Preparations for Meán Fómhair begin before Nerissa and the dignitaries head off on the 5th, but they seem a little quick even for the ever-festive people of Aefenglom: Apples begin the appear in great quantities to be used for later, some yellowed versus the red ripeness one thinks of when they're ready, there's hay bales tucked safely away for the days of, and there's little conversation to be made save for how things might be going in Dorchacht, though if any of the Mirrorbound try to join in they'll change the subject to Meán Fómhair in a split second, smiles thrown wider than the weeks before. Seems all is not quite as well as they'd like to appear. a. MARKET UP With the Parliament tense and looking westward, there starts to be gradual, but steady, increases in new appearances from some interesting individuals about the city. At face value they're no different than the vendors already found in great quantities, human and Monster alike, but one look at their wares proves different. The goblin market, as it's familiarly called, is somewhat accepted by the Parliament as something allowed to exist as part of their mercantile culture with Coven-approved medicines, alchemical practices, enchantments, so on and so forth, and only somewhat thanks to these known wares. Beneath these, with a dropped word or a curious eye, one can find things that are more than likely not sanctioned by either branch, things the vendors say can sate Monster and Witch alike without need of a Bond, though they decline to include the fact that such things are only temporary and that, like all hits, they'll need to come back for a greater quantity to get the satisfaction they need. Overpriced as they are (due to their private nature, it's high risk, surely they understand), they sell Monster parts of most kinds, Witch's Blood that may or may not be genuine, and what they call "extra strength" potions to mimic the feeling of a temporary bond without needing a second person to partake -- of course, you're welcome to share it, the more the merrier. However, this market hides a darker side, known more to those living among the aristocracy or who have the money and means to it, and characters are more likely to find themselves led there one way or another -- be it kidnapped or tricked, the black market isn't picky about how they drag their targets in. While Aefenglom prides itself in its fairness and equality, as in example with the goblin market not all is what it promises. Nowhere else is this more true than with the black market itself, using techniques familiar in Dorchacht to control their living wares, emboldened by the absence and turned heads of the government while remaining as discreet as they can be, they've ascended from the tunnels beneath Aefenglom to turn old houses into private auctions and the more deserted streets into bazaar-like adventures. Not all of these are unwilling wares, characters may find, and drawn by necessity for their own well-being or for their family's, but it's clear that a greater number are those from the Outer City. b. PROPAVANDALS Unbeknownst to Aefenglom's higher ups, Dorchacht has sympathizers of its own within this city's walls. While Bonds haven't been specifically dissuaded against, given that there's alternatives to the more permanent tethers, not all are in favor of changing completely. It's been ten years since Miss Bell gained her seating, such citizens'll say, and there's been decades prior where they hadn't needed that. That Monsterkind and Witches could be, and sometimes were better off, apart. Home remedies and extra practice, or finding a substitute, was all that was needed. More privately and growing in whispered popularity, that there ought to be more restrictions on the two in general. Once these words have started, both conversations planted as well as encouraged for thoughts already leaning a certain way, small attacks on those Bonded being to occur. They target the main populace and those with connections to the Coven itself, especially the Mirrorbound given Nerissa's alleged responsibility to them, and it seems they're well-practiced in hiding their activities because all investigations done towards the perpetrators, whether done by the Mirrorbound or officials themselves, will lead to only dead-ends outside the City. The culprits are hard to catch on foot, using the environment they'd grown up with to their advantage in escaping any manner of way -- it isn't just humans, but Monsters causing trouble as well -- but it isn't impossible... Just that they refuse anything but their right of silence on the accusations, claiming they'd had no part in anything, regardless of what proof might be found. The attacks and vandalism itself range from harmful messages appearing with magic on walls and doors, vaguely threatening letters written in ink that evaporates in sunlight, to fruit thrown and possessions left in tatters after breaking and entering. They don't stop at residential houses either, aiming for businesses held by those with any connection to the Coven, held by those with Bonds, and seek to cause any number of annoyance and distaste to those they attack. If it weren't for their Bonds, their Coven connections, they wouldn't be treated this way. That's the message they seek to send. c. UNEASY FESTIVITIES Come Septeril 21st, and lasting til the 23rd, Meán Fómhair is tentatively in full swing. The residents of Aefenglom are more on edge than during previous festivals save the red-hued Lithia, even once the first dignitary group has returned and the second left. There's barrels of apples decorating the street corners, but they don't seem as plentiful as they should. The games have a forced cheerfulness about them too, the unaffected being children who gleefully take part in each race, each competition, as well as the doctors with their cure-alls and promises of something to promote the harvest's delight, peddling medicine and medical advice to all who lend an ear with earnest grins and a profit to be made. The medicines are largely placebos with some possible side-effects for those that aren't, such as voice changes and intense cravings for various foods, but they seem to be very popular this year -- there's at least a couple merchants talking up the good fortune Dorchacht's stress has brought this year to one another, quieting down when they catch outsiders eavesdropping. With the continued attacks on those Bonded and Coven-affiliated, with one of their Speakers across the continent and the other sorely wrapped in Parlimentary business dealing with the attacks, the city holds its breath and tries to endure. Tries to be bright and cheerful while keeping obvious supplies behind their counters, to keep fright from their expressions and mind lest it invite the Cwyld to their midst, and ultimately drawing apart from one another in a time where unity is more than needed: Time will tell what actions might sew shut the new wound struck across Aefenglom.

Welcome to September's event log! The questions thread is split into two this time: one for Dorchacht, which can be found HERE, and one for Aefenglom, which can be found HERE. Please keep questions to their respective cities! This'll help both us and your fellow players in sorting information. Additionally, this event is a little special - we've prepare an OOC post to go along with it. Check it out over HERE - don't forget about it, as it'll help us see how things'll progress in the cities!

Comments

[partnerinheels]

Sometimes it just takes one. [To plunge a world into immoral darkness or perhaps pull it back into something brighter. She doesn't know if this city could be dragged free of such festering, dark roots, but there are still those here who haven't lost hope. That's something she can get behind and fight alongside.

As for monsters, she's having great, personally difficulty overcoming her own bias against what the word 'monster' meant to her back home versus here. The negative connotation's difficult to shake, much less in a place that leans so heavily into the stereotypes.]

And opportunistic. [She admits, having been patiently observing his reaction with slight amusement, not quite sure how he'd take it.] What sort of weird accusations?

[Though it seems like a warning, Sheva trails her fingertips along his palm, exhaling low at the strange tingling, her brows furrowing in silent, yet obvious, question. Regardless, she guides his hand to her shoulder. She's genuinely sore, after all.]

[niespodzianka]

[ Well, she must not be that wary of him if she's willing to bring his hand up near her throat. Geralt observes her reaction, his palm spreading across her skin, the sensation of it proving to not just be a fluke. He forgets about this, at home; he mostly dallies with sorceresses who seek him out because of the stimulation, and thrill-seeking women with freak fetishes. ]

Poison, electrocution. [ He shrugs, and experimentally kneads a bit of flesh between his thumb and forefinger. ] It's just because I'm a mutant.

[ Maybe she'll want to hop out of the water after that. Plenty of people would. For a brief moment Geralt considers adding And by the way I don't remember offering to give you a massage. If she thinks he's some sucker who's gonna just do this because she's a beautiful woman in a bath with him--

she's not wrong. So he doesn't say anything. ]

[partnerinheels]

[Considering she has her knife strapped to her thigh and external delicate bits, she's figures she'll be alright should her judgment be way off kilter. Then again, that's before she felt his strange touch.

At the mention of electrocution, she chuffs almost dismissively, just as her knees weaken slightly at the knead. If he does try and kill her, at least this vexing knot will be gone.] There's more pain with electricity.

[It feels weird, but not in a bad way. He mentions mutant and recognition remains absent in her features.]

You were born with this... What is this?

[And yes, she absolutely believes she has high chances of gleaning a massage while they continue chatting. Might as well multitask. Though in all honesty, he's welcome to stop at anytime. Touching others might be a difficult subject for him.]

[niespodzianka]

[ If anyone's going to get into a fight in here, it's going to be against a Cwyld tentacle monster that leaps from a bath drain. Which I will refrain from writing ... PROBABLY ]

It's just me. [ 'What is this.' ] Turn around.

[ So he can do this properly. Once she does, he brings his other hand up to her opposite shoulder, and elaborates. ]

Dunno how I was born. I'm a witcher. We're changed as children, so that we can fight things that kill humans.

[partnerinheels]

[It's both mildly intriguing and also terrifying at the same time. What kind of baths are these?!

She makes a soft noise at his answer and request, clearly still curious on the matter. Still, she turns around, swallowing a tickle in her throat as his other hand joins the task.]

That's quite a bit of responsibility to place on a child. [There's experience in her voice, empathy too.] Things... Like monsters? [No judgment from her.]

[niespodzianka]

[ Geralt is dope at massages, for the record, so Sheva's in luck. He's been well trained by his longtime lover, and his extreme awareness of all things physical gives him good insight. He knows what muscles should feel like, how fluid they should be, where the nerves need to be depressurized, how to push to encourage purging of stress in the lymph system. ]

Mm. [ A neutral sound, about the child remark. Loads of people have opinions about witchers and their impact on children, but Geralt has long since made his peace with it. His birth mother abandoned him when he was a baby; if she hadn't left him with the witchers, she may have opted to drown him just to be free of him. At a hundred years old, Geralt no longer has any complaints. ]

Yes, like monsters. Though I don't hunt sentient creatures. The titles here really fuck with talking about my work.

[partnerinheels]

[Geralt, if it's not obvious by how she melts further and further into his capable hands, has just made a friend. As an athletic person herself, it's rare to find someone who so keenly knows how to work out the knots and biometric imbalances one earns through specific physical activities, and she's living for it. There are times where it hurts as he works through some crunchier tissue here or a stubborn buildup of pressure there, but in the end, she's starting to feel the tension she's been carrying slough away.

More importantly, the more he speaks in regards to his work, the more Sheva feels a kinship in the parallels. It's nice not to feel so alone in her 'monster' experience.]

It seems like you and I have--had, [She corrects with a frown.] Similar jobs. I tried to protect people from creatures, what I would refer to as monsters, that had lost their humanity after they were infected, turned into biological weapons.

[niespodzianka]

[ Unlikely, he thinks, about having similar jobs. Which is not because he thinks Sheva sounds incapable or like what she describes sounds easy - the opposite. But she seems like a real person. She probably counts as someone with a soul. Geralt does not.

Professional understanding is fine, though. He comes across it now and again, in certain knights. Even a dragon, once, who roamed the world to punish humans who would attack sentient beasts in ways humans might ascribe as monstrous. ]

Sounds like you're well-equipped for the Cwyld, [ he observes. ] If you haven't seen what it's like out there yet - living things infected with the plague, determined to spread it or die trying. I did .. detective work that often ended in a fight.

[partnerinheels]

[She's definitely a real person, and many would call her a good person. It's a topic of perpetual debate within herself, no matter how much good she does to counter her personal darkness. Though, given the state of him physically, there's no arguing who's probably survived the Worse Shit.

Glancing back to him is the only clue that while she's confident in her skills, facing the Cwyld might not entirely be within her wheelhouse. The thought of facing them after the warnings she's received definitely give her enough pause, as they should any sane person.]

I've heard I would be more equipped if I were from a world with magic. [Sheva can admit when she's outmatched. Her optimism only goes so far.] Still, I believe that my experience with weaponized diseases and the microorganisms behind plagues might help. I can only hope. The technology in my world is far more advanced than this world.

[But there's also no magic. It's a distinct trade off.

As they speak, she finds her muscles loosening enough that she sags closer to him. His former lover taught him well.]

[niespodzianka]

I'm from a world with magic, [ he says with an inflection suggesting verbal shrug. ] We have normal plagues. Boils, lungs collapsing, vomiting blood. Nobody turns into shrieking monsters. And it can't get plants.

[ Geralt doesn't know this, because nobody knows this except the omnipresent narrator, but fun fact: the plague in his canon is the plague from Earth! Courtesy of an infected flea hopping along on his daughter when she was skipping through dimensions to escape her pursuers.

Oops. ]

But if there was any easy fix I'm sure they've have figured it out by now.

[ Geralt adjusts her head a little, making sure she's aligned perfectly before working on her neck, up to the base of her skull. ]

[partnerinheels]

[He might shrug in tone, but she's making a mental note that he's the person to ask to go with her outside the city back in Aef, whenever they get back that direction. There is the issue of the busted transporter.

Now those symptoms, well they certainly sound familiar, but what are the chances he's describing The Plague? Slim, right?]

Interestingly, the virus that reanimates people into flesh eating creatures was created from plants in Africa.

[Though it's an inappropriate moment, Sheva finds a low groan escaping her throat as he works on the knots in her neck. It's hurting so good.]

They might not want to if it keeps them in power. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that there is a cure, or more effective treatments hidden among the powerful and influential. [She's been thinking about this for quite some time now, what with all the parallels--projected or otherwise--with Umbrella and her world.] Disease creates a common enemy, and it's easier to stay in power if you're the only hope at combating such an threat.

[niespodzianka]

With their entire world consumed? [ He's unsure. Not because he thinks highly of people (lol) but because there's no cure. Manufacturing a disease and selling the antidote, he'd agree. This is a whole other order of thing. ] If it began that way, it was a long time ago, and it's since gotten wildly out of control. This place is on the brink of annihilation, and power is split autonomously between regions anyway. Aefenglom's control has shifted a few times, I think.

[ Dorchacht is a special case - at least, he hopes so. Not like he's heard tell of many other cities, but he's heard about the tyrant king killed by witches, the Coven that replaced it, knows that leadership changes hands, and he thinks Nessie's ... alright. He was neutral but unbothered by her before, though it's staring to dip into disapproval thanks to her passive stance about Morgana. ]

Though if it turns out to have been made to be this bad, then maybe we're better of with failure. Wipe the gene pool that produced such idiots out of existence.

[partnerinheels]

[Don't mind the woman who's just recently learned that the global consortium of pharma companies that funded the BSAA--an organization that was created to combat bioweapons and bioterrorism--was also secretly manufacturing those bioweapons. A conspiracy that involves the powerful using a disease as way to manipulate the world to favor them somehow isn't really too much mental gymnastics.

Then again, she doesn't have the full story or history of this place.]

Their entire world was consumed? [Then who told the stories, she wonders.

As he explains, she runs a wet hand over her face and finds herself leaning back against him in an almost defeated slump, though his hands have more to do with her relaxing.]

The cost is too high for a few rotten apples. I can't speak for everyone, but I'm certainly not ready to throw in the towel. I might be dead back home, [It's highly possible despite what future Chris has mentioned.] But I'm apparently not here.

[Hence her joining up with la resistance de la monsters. She sighs, frustrated.]

I hate politics.

[niespodzianka]

Have you not seen outside the cities? It's like Tedd Deireadh out there.

[ A wasteland, nearly entirely devoid of life - the only sparks of it left in decay and chaos. She may not recognize the word he uses, just like he doesn't recognize 'Africa', but it's not hard to guess from context clues that he basically means the apocalypse.

His hands on her remain steady, at least. She may be frustrated but the tendons running up her neck should be having a great time. ]

Mm. [ An agreement. He, too, hates politics, and plainly so. ] Not much to do but push forward and hope you end up supporting an idea that's less shit.

[partnerinheels]

I haven't. [She admits, not recognizing who this Ted is and why he's apparently as terrible as a forest infected by a magical plague, but she understands the context given other bits of information she's received. Still, she knows more than most just how effective a first hand experience can resonate.

His handiwork receives absolutely zero complaints. Honestly, she's mostly trying to keep the encouraging noises from escaping while they're speaking on such serious topics, which is one of the reasons she merely looses an agreeable noise to his statement. He's right. It's really all they can do.]

You're good at that. [She finally murmurs after somehow feeling as though she's sinking further into the good feelings his hands are creating.
A beat.] What else are you good at?

[niespodzianka]

Take a look sometime.

[ Geralt had gone out with the Wilder training, and again in the caves, and has seen for himself.

It's shit. ]

Mm. [ He exhales, implying a laugh. It's fine like this; his hands don't get tired easy, and she's beautiful, so this is a fine distraction from the horrors of their current circumstances. ] Mostly killing things. Cards, I guess.

[partnerinheels]

I will.

[That's all she can do at the moment. The next time she has an opportunity to go out with capable company she'll take the opportunity, but until then she's just going to enjoy this treat she's experiencing.

Killing things, like monsters. Her eyes close and she can still hear them, see flashes of their bloodshot and tainted eyes as they attacked her. She inhales and exhales slowly, forcing her attention to the pleasure while still keeping some semblance of decorum. Her voice is lower, rougher when she finally speaks.]

That's all? With hands like this I imagine you're good at a great many things.

[niespodzianka]

Oh, right.

[ His tone is dry, but it suggest humor. He's picking up what you're putting down, Sheva. ]

Fucking.

[partnerinheels]

You're the most delicate with words.

[She's teasing, voice lazy with amusement.]

So, what is that special thing your hands are doing? Or is it your skin?

[niespodzianka]

You weren't asking if I could knit.

[ Ain't no pretending now lol. It's not the first time he's been asked, though he's more used to sorceresses just knowing how witchers feel, and it being a motivating factor in so many trying to lure him to their beds. Because those with magic can feel it all the more intensely. ]

It's just me. Mutations. Whatever makes me - and any witcher - makes this.

[partnerinheels]

Maybe that's what they call it in my world, hm?

[Truth be told, it's not just the happy tingles, or whatever he calls them, that intrigues her. Still, she imagines he's quite popular with whoever he does take to bed.]

Does everyone have the same mutation when they're made a witcher? [She hums thoughtfully, though it's more suggestive than anything.
Still she doesn't make a move to take advantage.] You must be a popular knitter. Is it just your hands?

[niespodzianka]

It's similar. A sliding scale. No replication will ever be exact.

[ And that's about as much detail as he tends to go into. Those secrets are kept in-house, and even though there's no way to reproduce such a thing here - how ludicrous would that be, honestly - secrecy is too ingrained. Even discussing the Trials feels strange still, despite knowing they'll never be done again, unless something dire happens. The age of witchers is over. Maybe it wouldn't have been, if not for the pogrom at his own home, or the exterminations south--

None of that matters, especially now. ]

I think I'll leave that a mystery to be discovered.

[partnerinheels]

[It's interesting to think about, how similar it sounds to how they amalgamated various viruses and parasites to create superhumans like Albert Wesker in her world. Every situation was different because every person was different, and then there's the magic aspect, which is something she can only vaguely guess and assume based on what she's seen thus far and canons like Harry Potter.

She hums, not looking to push too much for the details, especially if it might be too similar to back home. She's much more keen on focusing on her attention on the implied answer to her question.] So what you're saying, is that you're possibly a very popular knitter?

[Curiously, she reaches behind her to trail her fingertips along the side of his leg.]

[niespodzianka]

[ For all Sheva knows, Geralt's mutations extend no further than funny eyes and a weird touch sensation; he certainly hasn't said anything about being an amalgamation of monster genetics. (Even though he is - just not something he speaks of, because people are scared enough of witchers as it is, usually.) ]

I'm not saying anything, you're the one who's curious.

[ Faintly teasing, but he's not unused to being the subject of novel fixations and sexual curiosity. Half the one night stands in his life have been women eager to experience the bizarre, the freak factor, the desire to go a round with someone who can't get them pregnant and won't stay the night (if only because they'll be run out of town for being different).

Of course, the skin on his leg feels the same. ]

[partnerinheels]

[For all she knows, his eyes are something he's gained here from monster traits rather than his witcher conversion. There are parallels between them that she doesn't know exist, and might not ever given the darker nature of their pasts.]

I am. [She admits.] But I'm also really enjoying the thought of feeling far less broken and sore after this.

[While the hot, magic water feels lovely, she acknowledges that he's doing the bulk of the work here. It'd be nice to know about the no babies perk, but as she's unaware of that and isn't exactly packing protection, there's a part of her that's perpetually wary of jumping on a stranger's dick, magic or otherwise. Still, there are ways around those particular issues.

Given the situation, it's very tempting, and her fingers continue to trail over his thigh as her lips curl into a lazy smirk. The tingling feels strange there too.]

Do you prefer actions, or words?