prick your finger, it is done ( closed )

[niespodzianka]

Who: geralt & alucard.
When: probably later in the month, just gettin a start on things now
Where: outside the bright wall
What: high risk quest: the woman.
Warnings: idk, creepy violence?


One of the farmers he does work for routinely tells him about it, first - stressed out and exasperated, that with everything else going on, whatever-she-is hasn't just up and buggered off to save everyone the trouble. It's a little while after that before he hears of her first appearing, and then more, mostly from the Wilders. He begins by tracking an area known for 'hauntings', and then interviews whoever he can who's fled from or tangled with the mysterious Woman. (He's heard worse names for wraiths.) Takes a crack at her himself, once, but isn't committed. Dry run. Shade, then, he decides. Much worse than even the vampire outside Dorchacht.

Like he's always said: half of witchering is tedious detective work, and that's what this is, too. He prepares and plans and makes sure that, should anything happen, aid for dealing with direct exposure to the Cwyld will be on hand. It's not difficult to convince the necessary parties to bunker down in the nearest farmhouse, peering out nervously from between slats of boarded up windows.

Instinctively, he'd prefer to do this alone. The other witcher he might trust with it is absent. But this world pushes against solitude with all of itself, and he's learned a lesson or two already in his long life about trying to buck the forces of the universe. So he doesn't immediately send Alucard packing; they've worked together before, and he knows the younger man won't lose his shit in the wilderness. Instead they're out here, scouting the area, keeping eyes and ears and all else peeled.

"Here," he says, handing over a small vial. "Put this on your sword before the real shit kicks up. I've had good luck with it being corrosive against the things out here."

Comments

[cryptsleeper]

Winter is about to settle in, and so Alucard has spent much of his time doing the kinds of work he used to in the castle. Pickling things. Finding ways to cure meat so that it can last all winter, as he has little trust in the stores to provide food for the full season. Sure, it means that there's a weird closet of meat in the living space he shares with Trevor these days, but that's also the least weird thing either of them has encountered in a house.

The rest of his time has been spent beyond the Bright Wall in the Outer City. It's been an effective way to readjust his skills in combat with only human abilities - the need to do just that was clear after the ent encounter. (He still sees the petalwolf they rescued every so often. Just for a flash. It's an accomplishment.) There's far more confidence now with a month of work poured into it.

It also means Alucard has already heard the rumors about the Woman, but there's been no follow up on his end. The matter is a risk that he isn't prepared for, at least not going at it alone. Working with Geralt though? Perfectly fine.

Never mind why Alucard's put his trust in the man. Only that he has, and that when he's offered the vial, Alucard takes it.

"Understood." His sword is already out, but he stops to reach into trouser pockets for a rag. The contents of the vial are poured onto it, and then Alucard begins to run the rag up and down his blade. "Thank you."

[niespodzianka]

No response; Geralt is more focused on the world around them. He's not sure two purposeful witches stalking quietly through the liminal space between wilderness and farmland will be appetizing to the Shade he's after. She's smart, if not in anything resembling human intellectualism, but keen and sharp and predatory. A real monster.

He hears the gentle pulse of bird heartbeats, the skittering of small rodent paws. Beetle wings, canine paws. Some things closer than others. Many animals will give bipedal humanoids a wide berth, some don't give a shit, having learned they are only incidental, sometimes-predators, used to the Wilders whose presence means fewer infected creatures.

"Just to reiterate," he says quietly. "This thing has killed a lot of people. Including competent people. Even the Wilders who ostensibly train us to function out here won't tangle with it. If I tell you to back off you have to bail immediately. I won't be able to concentrate on protecting you."

He will if it's possible, but he feels it's worth laying down that if he's at the point of barking that warning, that ship will have already sailed.

The world around them gets slower. Quieter. He cants his head like a dog hearing some far-off whistle, and reaches into his small pack to withdraw another vial.

[cryptsleeper]

"I understand."

This is not a new topic of conversation. It was something they had discussed at the outset, and Alucard had accepted without question. This was a high risk matter, and in truth he expected himself to be the more likely failure of the two. Geralt had experience on his side, and a far better command over witch-y type powers than the dhampir.

There is a little part of Alucard that wants to snap back that he requires no protecting, but that part of Alucard? That's the part of Alucard that sometimes forgets he is without any dhampir abilities and thus far more vulnerable. The rest of him knows better.

As the world slows, Alucard moves slower as well. Careful not to make noises or disrupt.

In a whisper, he makes one thing clear, "If we need to bait the thing out, I will take that role."

[niespodzianka]

He pulls the cork on the bottle out with his teeth, then drinks the contents. Alucard won't need supersenses to smell the don't drink that bro level of toxic awfulness wafting from it, but Geralt doesn't gag or keel over. He pulls a face, and his nose twitches, but he tosses the empty glass vial to the forest floor after. The decoctions he's made here - like the sword oil, like this potion - don't function exactly the way they do at home, but they're alright.

"If you want."

That might be for the best. Send Alucard in after the 'baby' and focus on the Woman herself. If Geralt didn't think the half-vampire was inherently capable of handling himself, he wouldn't be here, so there's that. He's teachable, and he can see from the way he works with a sword he's skilled. Just on a learning curve.

Geralt rolls his shoulders and stretches his neck to one side, almost fidgeting as the potion works its way through him. His eyes become brighter, while veins that might normally be invisible or only faintly visible beneath pale skin grow darker and darker, leaving him looking ... frightening, probably.

Quieter and quieter. Small creatures withdrawing.

"It's starting."

[cryptsleeper]

"It'd be wrong not to offer it as an option."

Alucard gives the potion a moment's side-eye when Geralt consumes it. The smell causes his nose to wrinkle in the way that his nose often wrinkled in response to the most toxic chemicals of his father's lab, and there's the gut instinct to smack the vial out of Geralt's hand.

But there's no point and no time. No time for him to react to the sudden brightness of the man beside him, or any other change. There is only quiet. There is only anticipation. The world goes mute, and--

--there. Something dark contrasts against the rest of the world around them. Too far away, perhaps not noticing them yet, but so very, very present.

[niespodzianka]

It's a look.

The unrefined potion will overclock his mutations for a little while - too rough to double or triple up like he might do with intricate alchemy at home, he'd probably die trying that here - and he feels every sense open up like breaking the surface after being under water. The figure in the distance is as sharp and detailed as if it were standing a yard in front of him. That's the Woman, alright. A Shade, once a human woman - maybe even a witch - now beyond monstrous. He pulls his vision back, keeping his attention split between her and the immediate area around he and Alucard.

A spindly, dark, crackled hand slithers around the edge of a tree. He can see it.

And then, the soft crying of a baby. It's not coming from the figure itself, but some distance away from both the Shade and the two of them. It takes him a second to locate it, the sound waves practically visible; a strange bundle that smells like the plague even from here.

"There's your lure," Geralt murmurs.

The woman begins to move. Slow and even elegant, a bowed figure of slender feminine beauty, calling out mournfully for her baby.

[cryptsleeper]

Hot.

"Moving now."

Alucard can see from the way Geralt carries himself that there are more subtle matters afoot. Later on, he'll complain about the lack of ability to sense these things anymore. Ask Geralt if he knows of potions or spells to make up for that problem. But for now, there's only the work.

Soft footsteps move to the source of the baby's crying. It's a diagonal movement, one designed to make it seem as if he is heading in the correct direction, but maintaining a safe distance.

[niespodzianka]

Geralt melts away in the opposite direction. Giving them space, sinking back into nothingness, letting the Woman focus on Alucard. He watches the dhampir, he watches the Shade, and the lure. Which is not a baby, and, he suspects, never was a baby. It's just a projection, like a minstrel throwing her voice. He hasn't heard about this specific trick in his research, but he's not surprised that she's cooking up new tactics in the face of having more opportunity and attention paid this year. Ignorant refugees and mirrorbound ripe for the taking.

His footfalls make no noise, each one perfectly laid, his eyes turning blacker as he forces his awareness to track more of the panorama of this scene. Alucard - lure - Woman. Pinching a hunting target isn't rewriting the book on tactics, but it's a solid standby for a reason. He wants to observe her at work for a moment, make sure he's got enough ahead warning as possible before he goes in for the kill. Or rather for the struggle, as it's likely to be. His pulse slows even more, shifting his inhuman metabolism. In this state some animals mistake him for a corpse.

The lure wails louder, but the close Alucard gets to it, the more diffused the sound will be. The bundle on the ground writhes in desperate pain anyway, cold and abandoned. Enough to tug on the hardest heart strings.

And then a soft crying. A mother looking for her child. The figure steps forward, arms outstretched, then falters, falling against a tree. She's been searching for days. She's fatigued and ill, and her long, beautiful hair touches the ground, her elegant hands covering her face, trembling. The sound of the baby crying echos and bounces off the trees, confusing her. Where is it? Where is it? Won't you help her?

[cryptsleeper]

Alucard's movements are controlled. Confident. Striving to be quiet until they no longer need to be, and he can fall into the role of hapless mirrorbound whose path has simply brought him this way. He's never had to play a part before (perhaps one day he will, when he joins Trevor and Sypha on the roads beyond the castle), but this? This is an easy thing to slip into.

His hearing focuses on everything around him - or lack of it. Woods are not silent even in winter, save for moments like this. They went silent when Alucard hunted for game as a child, for everything around him recognized the tiniest bit of Dracula's presence.

When the lure sounds, Alucard understands the next part. He starts walking to it, boots crunching through the snow. It alerts the Shade of his presence, yes, but also lets Geralt track him. The latter is the true purpose of making the noise, and Alucard draws closer yet.

He'll ponder the diffusion of the noise later. It's probably a radius thing, meant to travel the greatest distance. Draw in the most prey. But it isn't the point, and now is the moment where alertness is the only thing that matters.

His eyes meet that of the shade. He's twenty, maybe thirty feet from her. Ten from the lure. Alucard will not go more than five feet closer, so he calls out to the Shade, "It's right here. You need only move yourself."

Tension stiffens his shoulders. His hand hovers at his own midsection, ready to draw out a sword in a moment's notice.

[niespodzianka]

If the Woman notices Alucard's readiness, she doesn't let on. She shambles forward, drawn to his voice, her her mournful panic increasing in desperation. Geralt is behind her now, but some meters back, ensuring her focus remains on the younger man. He steps on a brittle fallen branch just to hear it crunch. She doesn't flinch or turn, but he sees something ripple quickly down her spine that strikes him-- like a dog's hear flicking, investigative, without its full attention. Could be a coincidence, but he won't bank on it.

Closer and closer. She stumbles when she's in view of Alucard, hands clasped over her face. The eyes she looks at him with appear to be so very human, beautiful and dark, red-rimmed from hysterical sobbing, tears pouring down her cheeks and over her hands.

She meets his eyes crystal clear. Maybe she's a real person after all? Are Shades truly lost forever, or does something else happen to them, long down the road? Imagine waking up one day and realizing what you've transformed into, and what the disease has done to you, not knowing how many you've killed, or who you've infected.

Wouldn't that be complicated.

No such luck. The fabricated lure shifts, blinking out of existence only to be replaced with the Woman herself. Whether she really did teleport or if the it was an illusion is impossible to guess in the moment-- Geralt sees it happen and moves too fast to even swear about it, though he definitely is in spirit, racing to cover distance and hurl himself blade-first at the figure now inches away from the dhampir, hands extended, face horrible.

[cryptsleeper]

The shambling motion is decidedly unsettling, although Alucard makes no reaction to it. It's an attempt to recreate a movement that is just ever so wrong. Too fast or too slow in moments, and all of it too stiff. It isn't something he expects to remain as such though, since a fight requires movement to be fluid. It'll be a fight soon.

His eyes blink when the fallen branch crunches, but that doesn't seem to give away the game entirely. It could be chalked up to some kind of animal but they'll see. They'll see and there. His eyes meet that of the Shade, and fuck if it doesn't give him pause. There will be time to deconstruct that and any thoughts of his mother later. Now isn't the time. It is the exact opposite of the time.

The crying stops. Tension ripples through Alucard and his hand goes to his sword. A hand reaches out for him and the withdrawl of Alucard's blade happens just in time to block the gesture.

Shit. Geralt's moving, and so Alucard uses the blade to pivot himself sideways, permitting Geralt a clean landing space that will not bowl himself over or let the shade touch either of them.