middaeg | October catch-all [closed]

[ It doesn't help that Berserker typically picks up shifts at the Sly Seadog. Too many people know him there for him to want to drink there when he's not working. He prefers his bar experiences less personal. This is a nice change of scenery, with company he doesn't mind.

He raises up his own glass with a little nod. Vodka's not his preferred drink, but in the end, liquor is liquor. ]

And put her head on a pike.

[ Down goes the shot without so much a change of expression. The burn is familiar and comforting, a lovely change of pace after last month. He twists the empty glass in his fingers for a moment. There's plenty that can be said and asked after what they experienced, but it's almost unnecessary. They aren't really the type to discuss their feelings (to say the least). ]

If I have to go back to that city again while she's still in power, I'm going to raze it...

[ That might have more impact if there were any passion or emotion behind his words. Cold apathy settles onto him like a comfort blanket. ]

[ Down it goes, near tasteless, which is what Geralt prefers in booze - though he's not picky, ultimately. If (or rather, when) they finish off the small carafe brought from the bar, the next round can be on Berserker. He sets his glass back on the low table, the clink of it barely audible, swallowed by the dampening effect of the dreamy decor. ]

I think if anyone has to go back, it'll be for that reason and that reason only, [ he says, his shoulders moving in a small shrug. ] It's clear the government here is in a bind. Open conflict with another city while the plague is roaring would be a death sentence for everyone in both places, but now that Nessie's seen it, she'll be able to bring it to Parliament and have a plan stashed away to level the place if they start eyeballing expansion.

[ .. or, you know, so he's guessing. It's not impressive to him that Nessie didn't want to openly support direct action, but he gets why. What's worse, a part of a population suffering because of enslavement, or all of a population dying because war? There are moral levels to that Geralt isn't equipped to navigate. ]

But for now, we're done with it.

[ A war is something neither city can afford right now, but it would be far worse for Aefenglom without an actual military. Berserker's not interested in getting involved in another war, more than happy to leave that part of himself behind permanently. It's unlikely it'll be permanent, though, but the longer he can avoid it, so much the better.

As far as Geralt's assessment, he can only agree. Such affairs are not his concern, really -- he'll protect his way of life here as he sees fit. Anything that supports that, however, is welcome. He pours them both a fresh shot. ]

If she's smart she will, anyway.

[ He decides to leave it at that. There are other questions he's had on his mind. Mostly, he's curious about Geralt himself and what sort of life he's led. He's not interested in prying too much, though, just finding out what he can. ]

You're good at what you do...but you've lost the passion for it, haven't you? Has that kind of work become routine for you, too?

[ Geralt thinks war is the worst evil in existence. He's never been a soldier, and he never will be. Only caught in the machinations between empires, on the ground, in the mud and in valleys full of corpses. He understands the desire to shirk away from it even if it's morally infuriating to do so - there's no coming back, and it's devastating, and it changes everything.

So. Best to talk about something else. ]

Passion? [ Mm. He refills their shot glasses. ] I'm a witcher. I've never had passion for what I do, exactly. We're stripped of emotion when we're children, because a witcher who enjoys killing would be a real problem for the world.

[ Stripped of emotions...Boy, they're a lot more similar than he's quite comfortable with. Berserker gives a little nod for the refill. God knows he's going to need more alcohol to deal with this. ]

I used to have passion for battle, not necessarily killing...but I was forced to kill so many to survive, it became boring. I grew indifferent to what I had to do in order to keep doing it. [ A one-man war. ] I gave up so much in the name of strength, including most of my emotions.

[ And down goes the shot. What a nice, light topic of conversation. ]

It wasn't until I chose to take on a Bond that they started to return...but I doubt that passion will ever come back.

Do you remember what it was like, before you gave it up? Or has it been too long to be relevant?

[ Interesting. Geralt had a before as well, but he was a child. That's definitely had an impact on him - struggling to incorporate actual emotions into his personality meant he went through a lot of years where any expression of them was frustratingly childlike. A shitty, jaded outcast with the emotional range of a teenager and the experience of a ten year old. It's no wonder he didn't have any friends outside a few tolerant dwarves until he hit about fifty.

He drinks. ]

Is it your own emotions? Through the bond?

[ Or ... whoever he's bonded with. ]

Not really.

[ He has a constant reminder of what his life should have been and the kind of person he should have been, if not for the corruption of the Grail. It's less painful now that he's developed an identity and a life of his own, but Caster's presence is still somewhat of a sore spot for him. ]

I have the memories of my life, but that was hundreds of years ago. [ Being a Heroic Spirit is weird. ] I was young when I gave it up. I'd killed my best friend that I'd trained with and my son, I was about to die in defense of my country and...that was it. Something broke and all that mattered was the strength to survive. So I did. I became nothing more than a mad beast looking for a place to die, someone who would slaughter all who opposed them. No hesitation, no mercy.

[ Another shot down to choke away the bitter feelings. ]

...Some of the emotions are mine. With them pouring in from Lancer, I remembered what they felt like. I'm getting used to them again, they're not usually very strong, but they're there.

[ It's not entirely the truth -- some of the emotions he felt were painfully strong and he didn't know what to do with them. Being viscerally upset or angry without an understanding of how to process that emotion is deeply unpleasant. Emotional pain is still a less than fun feeling that he isn't sure how to handle. ]

I'm adapting.

Edited 2019-10-11 02:47 (UTC)

[ For a moment, Geralt is still. ]

I can imagine, [ he says eventually, ] what broke.

[ His best friend and his son. Geralt tries to envision doing his daughter any harm, deliberately; any conscious harm at all. Even just the experiment doesn't work in his head, his mind glances away, too viscerally opposed to the idea. He knows he would die first. He very nearly did, once, being forced to choose between execution and suicide. Opting for the latter purely to spare Ciri having to watch the former. Fate was not to be in that moment--

No, he can't understand Berserker, not entirely. But it's clear he's paid dearly for whatever happened. ]

Sometimes it's worth it. Feeling shit. But that's a lot to choke down in this place, with everything else going on.

[ He's got Geralt's sympathies, is the implication, though he doesn't think the other man would appreciate hearing it in those words. ]

[ He hadn't know it was his son, to be fair. Connla was born after he'd returned from the Land of Shadows and he'd given his mother instructions on what to tell the boy when he wanted to return to Ulster; one of those things was to not identify himself. Berserker had taken him as an intruder and fought him as one. It wasn't until he lay dying that he realized who the boy was. Though he didn't regret what happened, it did weigh heavily on his conscience. It's not a pleasant memory nor one he's particularly fond of talking about.

He regards his empty shot glass in silence for a moment, ignoring the ache that settled into his chest. Now's not the time to dwell on the past. ]

I promised Lancer I wouldn't go back to the apathy. [ Not entirely, anyway. It's still impossible to shake off so many years of what's essentially protection. ] So I'll just have to get used to these emotions again.

[ He shakes his head as he looks up from his glass. ]

You didn't ask for that, though. Excuse me for getting too personal.

[ It's...kind of a joke, kind of not. Berserker prefers to keep people at arm's length for their own safety and to protect himself. He's not a good person -- death and tragedy are all that follow in his wake. He can't understand people actually wanting to spend time with him, much less wanting to know more about him. ]

Edited 2019-10-11 04:35 (UTC)

[ Still. What a thing. (And what a way for Berserker to phrase it, but alas, they move on.) ]

It's fine. It's a topic I can speak with empathy about.

[ Also kind of a joke. Empathy from someone who was also stripped of emotions. Insert laugh track. He refills their glasses again, and that's the end of this carafe, because six shots is a fair amount of alcohol. Next round's on Berserker. ]

What I've learned about apathy... is that sometimes - and most times, if apathy means staying neutral in any given situation - it puts a finger on the scales anyway. Having an awareness, whether or not we indulge or are subjected, can help in critical moments.

[ What would I do if I gave a shit? is good intel on oneself to have, now and again. ]

[ Ah, dark, self-deprecating humor. What a thing to share. Berserker smiles briefly as he realizes that they share far too much in common for him to be comfortable. ]

I'm used to being used for my strength...I didn't care by who or what purpose. Trying to force myself to care about an outcome was something unthinkable. I killed who I was told to, conquered where I was directed. My feelings didn't matter, so I just accepted my role. I've never been anything more than a tool for someone to use. I was never supposed to exist in the first place, so what did my feelings on something matter at all?

[ He leans back in his chair, draping his arm over the back of it. ]

Dorchacht is the first time I cared. [ The dream beforehand is really where it started. Seeing what effect it had on Diarmuid when he said he's nothing more than a tool is when he started realizing he wasn't that. ] It's the first time I thought about what cost my apathy had. It's...strange to care when you're so used to feeling nothing.

[ The final shot of that carafe goes down, the glass set back on the table with a surprisingly gentle hand. ]

So you're right. Even if you don't actively choose, you've still made a choice.

[ Geralt watches him, recognizing the way someone who's dedicated a lifetime to violence moves. There's something easy and liquid about it; he knows he moves much in the same way. Just without the dragon parts stitched in. So often that flits through his head - identities, and that 'monster' in particular.

Witchers don't hunt dragons. They may be embodiment of chaos, but they're sentient, and a necessary part of the balance of the universe. The ultimate enemy of mankind, Yennefer once called them, having no idea what experience Geralt had shared with one just the evening before. (Mysteries of universe, no one knows what any of this narrative means, la de da) ]

You cared well. [ Geralt wrinkles his nose, downs the last of his vodka, and leans with his elbows on his knees. ] Strange way to phrase it, I know.

[ All this really puts their conversation back in the sewers into perspective. ]

It can be frustrating.

[ ... no followup to that one. It just is. Life is fucking weird, emotions are a fucking headache. They can be maddening. ]

You did more than you needed to.

[ With Waver, he means. Berserker is very bad at showing gratitude -- more often than not, he finds help to be a nuisance. That situation, however, was well outside of his control and it's unlikely he would've been able to handle it without assistance. So this is the way he says thanks. ]

You care too much now, don't you?

[ It's not cold or cruel, just an ideal observation his gives voice. The dragon rises to his feet, disappearing to get more booze. He comes back a few minutes later with a fresh carafe of vodka -- since he's the one repaying Geralt, it's only fair he stick to what he seems to prefer. Two fresh shots are poured before he takes his seat again. ]

... It almost gives me hope.

[ For himself, he means. The Grail's corruption could be wiped away, Medb's wish erased. Even if his own existence is painful and full of resentment for that selfish woman, there may still be hope for a normal life. It would be the biggest thumb in her eye to be able to shake off her influence and live as he wants, not for someone else and certainly not as she wanted him to be. ]

[ 'Needed to' is an interesting way to look at it - or anything. Because technically, no one needs anything. No one needs to do anything. Not even breathe; does anyone need to live? Who's decided that? What moral dictates the importance of living?

Philosophies beyond Geralt. He knows the answers are all simple and self-evident in sentient beings, but the lifelong programming that tells him to be neutral likes to point that shit out in his head. So, if he didn't need to do anything at all, if there's no expectation and no bar to judge anything by, then he's only doing what he wants. And the motivations for that are no one's business but his own.

So, 'too much' doesn't matter. Does it? ]

Thanks, [ is dry, but kind of humorous; whether he means the vodka or the hope, who knows. (Berserker is of course encouraged to fish out whatever meaning he likes best.) ]

By a witcher's standard, I care too much. I'm a disgrace. By a human's, I'd say not enough. By Waver's - I probably care the right amount.

[ All things considered. ]

I've decided cases like the latter are what I'd like to navigate by.

[ Whatever meaning he draws from it doesn't quite matter, in the end. He just sits quietly for a bit, sort of staring off into the distance. So many thoughts and emotions stew in him uselessly with no real outlet.

Berserker's moral compass may as well be nonexistent -- all that mattered were allies and enemies, more or less. Allies are to be protected at all costs, while an enemy is to be ruthlessly eliminated. There used to be no reasoning with this; it was a part of his Madness Enhancement, the skill that made the Berserker class so strong. It took away sanity or reasoning in return for incomparable strength. Caring was never something he should've been capable of, nor should his Madness Enhancement's influence been lessened and yet those impossibilities had come to pass.

Berserker suddenly realizes he'd been sitting in silence for some time. Ah. Oops. The alcohol is doing its job and making this conversation easier, at least. ]

Caring for someone beyond their usefulness as an ally or enemy is something I'm unfamiliar with. I didn't understand the...rage I felt seeing Waver, I just chose to act on it.

[ His words have an uncharacteristic vulnerability about them, his voice a bit softer than he means it to be. He drinks his shot a little bit slower than the last. ]

So...If I can manage to care about my allies like that, I don't think I'd mind it. To be able to act as decisively as you chose to do...is something to aspire to, I suppose.

Edited 2019-10-12 02:52 (UTC)

[ Geralt's physiology is really putting them at uneven odds, here, because he has to chug a lot of alcohol at once to be really effected. At this pace, he's metabolizing it before it can really do much. But he still enjoys it, and feels more relaxed anyway. Maybe it's just the habit making a placebo of comfort. He'll take it.

Geralt listens, yellow eyes glinting sometimes in the low light, like an animal's. ]

I understand.

[ Suddenly, something is inside of you and you're experiencing wild shit you have no strategy for. Physical pain is manageable. Emotional pain is fucking crazy. Panic is something to be learned and mastered, but rage is almost impossible to control. ]

I think you'll get there, because you want to. Wanting something at all is ... Someone once explained it to me as a quality of a 'real person'. Which I may not be, still.

[ Berserker's tolerance is pretty good, but definitely not to that level. Celts are excellent at handling their alcohol or at least appearing to. At least he's not a rowdy drunk, like the rest of his countrymen. No, get him in the right company and he's clingy. ]

I'll take your word for it .

[ Until recently, he couldn't even conceive of wanting something. Wants and desires were for those in control of him; someone tells him what they want and he makes it happen (usually through murder because that's just what he's good at). The idea that he wants to change and grow is so far beyond alien that he can barely conceptualize it. It needs to be framed in a different way just so he can accept such a thing for himself. It will make him better at protecting his allies.

He can't help a short, bitter laugh at the concept of being a "real person". His existence is complicated, to say the least. ]

I was never a "real" person. [ It doesn't sound as resentful as it could, at least. ] I was wished into existence by a selfish woman who wanted a version of the only person to deny her.

[ Joke's on her: she got someone who didn't want to be a king and didn't care about her existence. ]

So while I have the memories of who I'm supposed to be...I'm not that person. I never existed. Part of this want...need to change is because I want to erase the influence of that woman and the corruption her wish on the Grail forced on me.

[ He pours himself another shot and quickly drinks it. Yeah, he's a bordering on drunk at this point and he can't care too much. ]

That's as good a reason as any to want something, isn't it?

[ He can tell the other man is a little tipsy, so he knocks back the remainder of his portion of vodka in a hurry. Halfway to caught up, at least for a bit. (Maybe he should have had the throat-stripping shit that witchers use as a potion base.) ]

It is.

[ A good reason. Geralt truly believes so. He's not sure if he should offer commiseration, because his own story isn't quite so literal. The shot glass gets rolled between his rough palms, thinking a long ways away for a little while. At least, if Berserker is some kind of magical clone, maybe he didn't actually murder his own child. But what does that do to a person's mind anyway? Wondering you're real at all?

Geralt knows the answer to that. ]

This world isn't bad. Inconvenient, for some of us. [ Not all. He's seen plenty of dissenting opinions. And it seems to be a positive thing for Berserker. ] But not any worse than where I came from. Better, probably.

[ Berserker finishes off the rest of his portion and lets the silence sit again. It's not awkward nor uncomfortable, it's just there. His thoughts are kind of a mess, partially due to his impending drunkenness, partially due to a thousand other complicating factors. Organizing what he wants to say it a little difficult at the moment. ]

Inconvenient is a good word for it. [ He allows himself a brief, if slightly twisted smile. ] It's certainly better than where I came from. The world's mostly in tact and humanity hasn't been incinerated. Or it could be worse, depending on how you like humanity.

[ It's still strange for him to be joking, even if his sense of humor is as dark as anything else about him. ]

Look at me, opening myself up and I'm not even that drunk...I apologize for that.

[ Geralt doesn't really laugh, as a rule. (He did, before he died, he thinks - before he got caught up in his own destiny. He's a hundred years old and he feels a thousand.) But he offers a little half-smile, the fleeting but sincere ones that occasionally grace his granite face. Humanity. Hah. ]

Apology's not necessary. But I'll accept it, if you want me to.

[ What'd they get together for, if not for ... whatever this is. Geralt usually socializes at the behest of social people, and lets them take the lead. Moments like this remind him more of sitting around with Eskel, or long-dead other witchers, calm and without need for anything to fill the air. (Not Lambert. Lambert can't shut up.) ]

I used to be desperate to be accepted as human. I'd go through weeks and months of nothing, and then these feelings would crop up on a bad day - fury at mistreatment, embarrassment, immense frustration. But witchers aren't human even if we're accepted by them. Eventually I came to the conclusion: that's a good thing. Humans aren't all bad, but they've also perfected evil. Makes my line of work confusing, with or without the ability to consider morality.

[ Berserker's unused to people actually wanting to be around him -- he's normally very good at isolating himself. The fact that someone would choose to be in his company for any length of time is baffling. He's not a good nor a kind person and he's very bad at carrying a conversation. Maybe that's why he doesn't mind his present company. ]

They're the ones who perfected their own downfall.

[ Goetia, in the end, was created by humans and was the one who nearly succeeded in completely erasing the foundation of humanity. While he was a Beast and not human, the fact that humans had a hand in creating him spoke volumes about their decision-making capabilities (at least in Berserker's mind). ]

I lived amongst them when I was alive and my former Master was one of the last humans. They're stupid, stubborn, and selfish. They'll do anything to ensure their own survival, no matter the cost. They're good destroying each other, too.

[ The dragon really isn't one to speak on "evil", of course -- his deeds are easily classified as such. He's a cold, calculating force of chaos who will sooner kill someone than reason with them. Anyone who stands against him is cut down without mercy. ]

They don't really learn, either, do they?

[ On the subject of evil, Geralt might have a lot to say; but he has no real faith in the soundness of his own opinions once they leave his head. The way he sees things aren't, and perhaps shouldn't be, the way anyone else sees things.

He was created, in essence, to fight evil, back when evil meant unthinking chaos. But humans have given evil a life of its own - they've made a place for it in society, and protected it with social norms and even laws. What's a witcher to do when the word 'monster' ceases to mean what it once did? What's evil? A drowner just eating to survive, or a human rapist? ]

Mm. No, they don't. [ He spins the empty shot glass on the table, then stills it, leaving it be. ] Witchers used to carry one sword, or just store the other. Silver for monsters, steel for humans. But once you're on the Path for long enough you understand they're both for monsters.

[ Good joke??? Maybe. Geralt thinks so. But it's also a bleak joke, so. ]

[ Berserker isn't the type to laugh, either (if he starts laughing, that's a sign to run), but he manages a brief smile. That type of bleak humor is something he can appreciate. He idly fidgets with his shot glass before ultimately leaving it be. The pleasant warmth of being drunk finally envelopes him like a comforting blanket. Good. ]

The most pathetic are the ones who try to excuse what they've done by saying it's for the greater good...They're the ones most willing to commit atrocities against their fellow. The righteous are little more than zealots.

[ His expression turns cruel for a moment. ]

They all sound the same as they're dying, though.

You remind me of a friend of mine, [ Geralt says. ] He used to say killing humans was relaxing, like pulling weeds.

[ The witcher doesn't sound like he thinks that's good or bad - just, nothing, really. Killing is something he prefers to avoid, or would, if every time he's ever put in an effort to not have to, it's backfired and been worse than if he'd have just killed the fucker in the first place. Everything like that just seems a waste.

Even back in Dorchacht, there was no desire to punish anyone, and he got no gratification. It was the simple equation of making room in a society for people who aren't actively awful.

Well. Mostly. Geralt gives him a look. ]

During the fires before we all left - I tracked down the witch who sold Waver to the 'merchant'. He's dead.

I find it boring...It's like paperwork: necessary, but tedious.

[ When you spend most of your life doing nothing but killing, it gets repetitive. He's good at it, sure, and efficient, there's just nothing in it for him anymore. This is why he only kills when strictly necessary.

As for the news, though, Berserker allows himself a satisfied smirk, if only for a moment. Vengeance isn't something he's normally interested because it involves caring, but things are different now. ]

Good...I would have been disappointed if you knew who he was and let him live.

October catch-all [closed]

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