middaeg | Noveuer Quests, Full Moon, & Catch-All [open]

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Noveuer Quests, Full Moon, & Catch-All [open]

Who: Berserker (Cú Chulainn Alter) and various
When: Throughout Noveuer
Where: Throughout the city
What: Quests and other things
Warnings: n/a

[ 1-A. It's rotten, so rotten here (Many Mans' Trash) ]

[ Tasking someone like Berserker to convince packrats to give up their old junk for Samuin is ... not a great idea. Sure, he's intimidating and willing to do the job -- his methods are just too direct for what may be a delicate task.

He walks stone-faced out of a particular problem house with a bagful of garbage with the source of the problem clinging to his ankle. "You can't take it away from me! That's all I have to remember Jane! She'll be back, I have to keep it to show her I waited!"

Seeing someone who may or may not be familiar, Berserker looks to them. ]

Do you want to help me with something?

[ That something being the now sobbing, desperate man trying to stop the dragon from dealing with his garbage. ]

[ 1-B. You gotta take the trash out (Many Mans' Trash pt. 2) ]

[ Alternatively, Berserker can be found later at night dumping the garbage left in the poorer districts of the city back in the aristocratic district. Petty? Yes. But he was told to clean up the streets, they didn't tell him not to take the garbage back to its source. He's careful not to leave it in front of any known mirrorbound homes, mostly because he assumes it didn't come from them.

If someone questions him or stops him, he simply shrugs. ]

I'm taking care of the trash. This is where it came from, isn't it?

[ 2. Running with monsters in shadow (Collectables) ]

[ Now here's something he's more familiar with and, to some extent, enjoys: hunting. Petalwolves are hardly a threat and are trivial for him to catch. They're still challenging to stalk, though, and that's what he's doing right now. As he makes his way through the underbrush, crouched low, he's not paying attention to anything other than his quarry.

Which is exactly why he barrels into the poor soul in front of him. To his credit, Berserker stops, but he doesn't offer a hand up on anything. He stares down at them instead. ]

Are you catching them, too?

[ 3. With the heart of a dragon we ride ]

[ It's late evening near a less populous area of the city, late enough that it's mostly deserted. Berserker can be found in a less familiar form: his full-sized dragon transformation. About the size of an elephant, he's not exactly the most inconspicuous thing around. His black scales glint crimson in the pale moonlight. Red scales beneath his eyes and along his chest and belly mimic his tattoos perfectly. He's recognizable to those that know him, at least, his horns, wings, and tail also a familiar shape. Unlike in Dorchacht, he's considerably calmer without the impact of feral instincts and a burning rage tearing at him. This means he's capable of talking!!

His head swivels around on his long neck as he hears someone approach. Though he doesn't speak immediately, he does cock his head to one side as if to ask "what are you doing here?" ]

[ 4. Wildcard ]

[ Did we plot something out already? Got an idea? Drop me a start or PM me here or on discord glitzkrieg#0673! ]

((OOC: I'm also willing to match format if you prefer prose over brackets!))

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[ Sometimes, wordless communication is more effective. Geralt understands this, and he appreciates it, holding still and offering a return of the pressure against his skull. To be understood so well is a rare thing; in a way it reminds him of Eskel, the witcher he was raised alongside. With him there's silent understanding and the echo of the community they lost, the last two witchers to have been brought up before the pogrom that decimated their kind.

.. Other times, words are killer. He had reached his hand out to rest his palm against the dragon's neck in silent thanks, after he shifted back, and now Geralt stills, struck with the gravity of that offer. After that tale of how much his bond means to him, how much it clearly cost him to explain himself to Geralt, he's shocked. Fully unexpected. Geralt can't possibly measure up against what Ciarán has experienced, but he's willing anyway? It touches him in a way that leaves him in stunned stillness.

Geralt doesn't want a bond. And yet there's a more practical, half-desperate voice in the back of his head that says he can trust the dragon to take it as seriously as he needs. Geralt wishes he could make use of things for pure practicality and let go, but he just can't. At least.. at least with him.. ]

Will you let me think it over?

[ He feels something like regret. But he's not saying no. Geralt leans forward and rests his head against Ciarán's shoulder, the expanse of dark scales. Fuck. He feels almost dizzy, though whether it's from the intense emotional rollercoaster this quiet conversation has brought, or magic buildup, he has no idea. ]

There are questions I have to answer for myself.

[ There's no long list of suitors he's sifting through. He's not considering a familiar, or black market attempts at a solution to stave off the explosion. Geralt has a feeling that Berserker will know exactly what he's taking time to think about: whether or not he'd simply prefer to let it kill him. ]

[ Berserker lays his tail over Geralt, drawing him just a little bit closer, like a weird hug. He's bad with words and worse with comforting people -- he knows what comforts him and tries to offer the same in return. He hadn't been expecting anything more than a refusal. It's not something he offered lightly and he didn't expect Geralt to take it lightly, either. There's obviously something holding him back and he's not about to make him decide right now.

Berserker lowers his head to gently nuzzle him. Somehow it's easier to be affectionate with anyone who isn't Diarmuid in this form. Maybe it's because it feels less personal because of his size. Though maybe right now it has nothing to do with his form and everything to do with the fact their conversation has been emotionally exhausting -- the affection is the least he can do to soothe them both. ]

Take all the time you need...Don't decide right now. Just find me when you do make a decision. I only need to tell Di...Lancer beforehand.

[ It should feel stranger, at least purely on a physical configuration level, to be practically cuddling with a dragon. But Geralt's interacted with bigger creatures, and he's known since he was a small child that dragons are sapient - the only monsters that witchers won't hunt. There's no strangeness in the way he accepts the contact, and manages to find a comfortable position with minimal shuffling around. ]

Alright, [ he responds, his rough voice even quieter. Like he might somehow disturb this moment if he's too loud. Something about it is significant; intuition tells him that he'll be mulling over it for a long while.

His mind skitters over to the man Berserker's already bonded to; Geralt doesn't know him well, but they've interacted. Even committed somewhat extensive murder alongside each other in Dorchacht. But the concept of how someone might be linked in a web of bonds is too stressful to consider right now, so he sets it aside, instead opting to take this time to clear his mind and breathe. He enjoys the cold silence, even as he radiates heat against cold-blooded scales. ]

[ He lays his head down now, too, completely curling himself around Geralt. It's warmer this way (that's the practical explanation); it's also comforting and protective, made all the more obvious by the low rumble resonating through him, that strange reptilian version of a purr much louder in this form. He's content to lay in silence with the witcher right now -- discussion of anything else can wait.

There is one more thing that needs to be said, completely unrelated to their conversation. ]

Let me know when you want to leave.

[ There's no rush towards that. Even in the cold air, he doesn't mind staying out here as long as Geralt needs him to. It's the least he can do for an ally -- no, a friend. ]

[ Geralt does not need protection, generally, and there are very few beings that exist that could offer him any - so it's a strange experience to have a dragon curl around him like this, like he's something worth guarding. Not bad, but still unusual, almost surreal. He runs a hand over Berserker's side, firm affection.

Leave?

Should he go home, should he walk to the gates and head out past the Bright Wall come dawn? Just go and burn. He's not sure. He'd tell the dragon to come home with him and redefine their mist-fueled connection, but he needs space to consider that offer, which he will carry close and careful until he comes to a decision.

He settles on, ] in a bit.

[ There's no hurry just yet. But he won't make him start shivering. ]

[ Another thought occurs to him, a bit of a ridiculous offer. What's one more absurdity on this already strange night. ]

If you want me to stay with you for the rest of the night...I can do that.

[ It's mostly a courtesy, though he wouldn't mind keeping him company like this, no matter what that might entail. Staying outside in this form until daybreak he can do, even shifting back into his more human form would be fine. This is going to be a sleepless night for him regardless. Sleep doesn't come easily to him most nights and even when it does, it's rarely restful. This is a better use of his time than trying not to keep Diarmuid up with him. ]

[ Geralt will forever have a hard time believing that Berserker is such a scary dude, with how sweet and thoughtful he's been over their last few encounters. Then again, maybe it's just his own skewed perception of the world - everything so brutal, all the fucking time - that makes his behavior appear that way. Even his great love is a total bitch. (He wouldn't have her any other way, though.)

The witcher pets him higher on his neck. A little bit like one might do for a horse, but look, things are what they are, sometimes, and he's configured a particular way right now. ]

Are you just being polite? [ There's the slightest hint of relaxed teasing in his voice, and he hopes the other man understands that he's honestly relieved to be able to lose the gloomy mood he'd been carrying all day. ] Or are you wanting to get re-acquainted after last month?

[ It helps that he's softened some, that his cruelty and apathy have been pushed back. They still come out when necessary (in battle, mostly, when he needs to be decisive and not think about eliminating a threat), they just no longer dominate his personality. It's a little weird, really.

Being treated like an animal in his fully transformed forms is something he's come to grudgingly accept -- Diarmuid scratched his chin like a cat's in his smaller form and carried him around like a pet. The neck pets he's getting are dignified compared to that treatment. ]

Maybe it's both. [ Berserker teases right back -- that's still weird for him to be able to do. He didn't remember much of their encounter from last month, not the details, anyway. The marks left behind afterward helped to jog his memory a bit. ] I...wouldn't mind getting reacquainted, though.

[ Now that they're both more or less in their right minds. ]

[ Geralt has never pet a cat. They hate witchers. It's a rough life. ]

Politely interested, huh? [ He scritches up by one horn. Geralt remembers their encounter in full, even though it's through a slightly hazy lens. He hopes Berserker does, too, but he's also heard of some monsters blanking out entirely in moments of heightened stress, and the mist was .. certainly a thing.

He should probably be responsible and bail out of this, but if there's one thing that overrides almost all of Geralt's instincts is an invite to get off. Stupid mutant chemistry. (That'll be fun, in the event of bonding. Get ready for horny on main to be a default state.) Still he's curious, and though he could kick himself-- ]

How much do you remember?

[ He tilts his head towards the scritches just slightly. A part of him feels like he should be offended and tell Geralt to cut it out, but a larger part of him enjoys the contact. It's still new to him to have anyone touch him at all, much less in this form, so why deny what feels good? The path of least resistance is the one most followed and, for once, it's harmless for him to take that path -- it's just slightly demeaning if he thinks about it.

Berserker hesitates before he answers the question. His memories are so hazy, like trying to remember a dream that's slipping away after waking it. Flashes of faces and moments are there, but not much else. He's not one to lie, so he may as well be honest with it instead of avoiding the topic. ]

You like to bite. [ A gentle jab at his expense. It's easier for him to talk about this if he preferences it with a moment of mostly harmless cruelty. ] I remember...we went at it more than once -- the second time is clearer. I remember what it feels like to touch your bare skin. You against the counter and you on top of me. Your scars and your dick in my hand. [ Ah now he's just being vulgar. It's fine. ] Beyond that, it's hazy and I don't remember much aside from brief flashes.

[ He doesn't quite think Geralt wanted specifics, but that's what he gets. ]

[ There's nothing demeaning about being offered affection if you want it; and perhaps unfortunately, Geralt is pretty handsy when given opportunity and motivation. Some little subconscious bend away from how he holds himself so very apart, otherwise. Doesn't even look funny. Perfectly normal, this, a guy sitting on a dock getting cuddled by a dragon. (If anyone's foolish enough to rubberneck, they're getting flung into the water.) ]

Yeah, maybe I do, [ is a quiet, rumbled snipe-back, about biting. Leaning against him and enjoying the illusion of privacy being coiled around brings. Geralt was part monster before he ever came to Aefenglom, he's always going to be hungry

Vulgarity isn't a turn-off. The opposite, in fact, and Geralt is very susceptible, that touch against the dragon's horn lingering, fingers curling. There's no skin-to-scale tingle, his habitual gloves on to avoid that very thing, but the implication of it. ] I remember everything. Learning a little about what you want.

[ With his rising interest comes increased pressure at the back of his head, a magic-like buzzing. Oohhh nooo it better not. Geralt shakes it off. ]

[ Berserker's so used keeping people away from him that indulging in something as simple as gentle affection is a struggle. A nagging voice in the back of his mind that this is all a weakness has to be ignored. It's all ingrained protective measures -- this makes him vulnerable. If he didn't trust Geralt as well as he does, it would have been harder (if not impossible) to accept this kind of treatment. Wanting it is okay.

The way his touch lingers doesn't go unnoticed and he tilts his head into it more. Berserker's more than fine with him being handsy right now. ]

What I want... [ It still sounds so strange. His wants and desires never mattered before. Things are different now, but it's new. He may never get used to it. ] I wanted whatever you would give me...Maybe I want that now, too.

[ Probably not the best thing to think about while he's in this form. ]

[ What he wants is important to Geralt, because Geralt hates nothing more than inflicting anything that's unwanted, in this intimate way. It's too difficult for him to inspect why, so he doesn't, but it's there in him, a constant insistence. That Berserker remembers enough and isn't confused is a blessing; if he'd blanked entirely, Geralt doesn't know what he'd do. ]

Maybe, huh? [ It's surprising, because it's been so long since Geralt's been entangled with another man. But he's comfortable with Berserker - Ciarán - and he's grateful for what little experience he does have, lending him enough to let them fumble through things. ] Maybe I want to give that to you.

[ Now. It'll be good. And if he's so focused, it'll-- there won't--

Geralt feels it, the magic buildup snapping to the forefront instantly, linked to arousal as easily as anger, and he pushes himself up and stumbles back in a flash. Somewhat literally. As soon as he's clear, a malformed shield spell snaps around him and outward, a small implosion that leaves his ears ringing and one hand glowing. ]

Ah, fuck, really.

[ Oh.

Oh. That's bad.

Berserker jerks backwards, quick to get to his feet and shield himself with his wings. That could've been much, much worse...What on earth triggered it? His experience with witches going nuclear is limited to Caster and his refusal to seek a bond. It slowly dawns on him what the cause was.

... Well, that's unfortunate, isn't it?

His defensive posture relaxes as looks to Geralt with his head cocked to one side. ]

That'll have to wait until you get this under control, won't it? [ A shame. But... ] Even without that, I can still spend the rest of the night with you.

[ Berserker's quite used to denying himself and those urges, so it's no trouble for him. ]

Sorry, [ he grates out, shaking his hand and letting the energy bleed off, fizzing in the air around him, smell of charred ozone drifting by. His breath is short for a moment as the oxygen burns off before the atmosphere corrects almost immediately. Exploding on the dragon would have been incredibly bad.

(In this capacity, anyway. Womp womp.)

What an absolute bitch. Nothing like not being able to get off to make his irritability a hundred times worse. This is not what he meant by needing guidance and motivation, world.

Ugh.

Geralt heaves a sigh. ]

I gotta get out of the city, at least for tonight. I can't put anyone else in danger while I'm sorting my head out.

[ Well, that's fine. He can find other ways to spend his sleepless night. Really, he wishes he could offer some kind of relief to Geralt. How strange it is to have something resembling empathy now...Well, he does have at least one thing he can do for him. It's not much, but it's faster (and safer) than him just walking out of the city. ]

Let me take you out there.

[ This instinct to help each other is probably a good thing. Friends, like Berserker keeps correcting himself - but still, allies as well. There's nothing lesser, when you get down to it, about bonds (hah) forged that way. Learning each other in these quiet spaces between the ruined things feels a little like walks between bloody battles. ]

If you change back for a minute first, [ sounds like a dare, especially paired with a particular glint in the witcher's eye. ] I'll make it quick.

[ A brief smooch for the road. He promises not to explode directly on his face. ]

[ It's a little tiring to switch forms, but maybe that's exactly what he needs right now. Exhaust himself that way and maybe he'll be too tired to have the constant nightmares. Plus...that dare is tempting. ]

Fine.

[ And so he shifts back to his more familiar form. No longer a giant dragon but a pretty tall dragon man...still naked. Maybe that wasn't his best idea -- somehow he'd forgotten about the fact he'd be nude when he shifted back. Oh well. Berserker has zero shame and makes no attempt to cover himself. The biggest problem is how cold it is; the warming barrel helps some, at least. ]

Make it quick.

[ Sometimes it's fine to tell people no when their requests are absurd. Geralt's familiarity with shape-shifters is that they can use their abilities to create clothes, or the appearance of them. Well. Oops. His eyebrows raise, but they can have the 'just tell me to fuck off if I ask for something asinine' talk later.

Geralt steps over and reaches out to take Bersker's face in his hands - he just looks at him for a moment, searching, strangely intense with his own current instability. He's not sure what he needs to communicate but it's..

Something.

Whatever. He kisses him, hard and invading, warm body pressed to his. ]

[ He still has problems with boundaries, okay? That, and he wanted this contact right now, sudden nudity or not. The inconvenience of the cold is worth it.

Berserker meets his gaze, his own expression unreadable. There's a lot he wants to say, but it goes unsaid -- it's unnecessary. Words are pointless in the face of action. Even though he's expecting the kiss, it still catches him off-guard. He yields to it with soft hum, his lips parted to let Geralt take as much as he likes. Berserker wraps his arms around him to pull him into a warm embrace. Ah...He wants more than this, but knows he can't have it. It's fine -- he's not going to be the one to break the kiss, though. ]

[ Maybe they can work on boundaries, in time. Or maybe Geralt will let himself incinerate and take his chances with what's on the other side. Undecided.

What's vital right now is this kiss. Some strange grain in his head wanted to kiss him and have an answer, have a definitive feeling in his gut that would nudge him into the cold, dark. But that's not what happens. It's fine and normal and he likes it, and no lightning strikes him.

Not lightning. Geralt has to break it and step away, feeling a tell-tale spark inside him that threatens something unpleasant. He twitches his nose and a flicker like static electricity shimmers over him.

Good for that moment, though. ]

[ The loss of contact leaves him wanting it that much more. Soft touch is still a strange thing for him -- at least he's stopped flinching when someone touches him in a way not meant to cause pain. Reactions like that come from a lifetime of violence where any hand laid on him should cause pain.

Mm, not something to think about right now. Whatever Geralt was looking for in the kiss they shared wasn't found and that much was expected. It's fine. It's never that easy to get an answer for something like this. Berserker knows he'll come to a decision eventually. It will take time; either he'll die or he won't. At the very least, the dragon offered him an opportunity. There's nothing left to do but wait.

He makes more space between them before shifting back into his monstrous form. He's not any warmer, but at least he feels less exposed covered in scales. ]

Are you ready?

[ Sure is a REAL BUMMER when your instincts don't tell you to immediately commit passive suicide. What a world.

Geralt lets out a breath and makes sure he doesn't feel like he's about to do anything unfortunate. The cool temperatures help. ]

Yeah. Let's go.

[ It's a silent flight out past the city wall, at least on Berserker's part. Nothing more needs to be said, nothing more can be said. He'd made himself so painfully vulnerable before Geralt, laid bare every weakness that could be used against him and yet he doesn't fear betrayal. It was necessary and it's a sign of how deeply Berserker trusts him. How rare...

He lands just outside the bright wall and lowers himself down to the ground to let the witcher off. He wants to say something, anything to him, but the words don't come. The silence remains. ]

[ Quiet is fine. Good, even, because it means Geralt doesn't have to struggle against the mess in his head to try and come up with something that'll inevitably sound stupid anyway. Feet on the ground, he gives the dragon a bracing touch to his reptilian jaw.

Thanks.

He steps further away, into the dark, not wanting to give him reason to linger out where he's vulnerable. ]

Go get warm.

[ They'll see each other again or they won't, and that's just how it'll be. ]

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curruid_coinchenn - 2019-11-22 06:52 (UTC) - Expand

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