Geralt of Rivia (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
willnotchoose) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fluxscape2021-07-04 12:22 pm
willnotchoose) wrote in fluxscape2021-07-04 12:22 pm
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WHO: Geralt and YOU
WHAT: somebody's just arrived and isn't thrilled about it
WHEN: right now? probably until a couple days in
WHERE: all over!
WARNINGS: language, potentially violence
He doesn't exactly notice when things change. He's not in the best spot to, admittedly; the venom's still working its way out of his system, the old man's voice lulling him into something like sleep once he's got his wound cauterized, and the next time he opens his eyes, a rush of an exhale and wild gaze glancing around, reaching for a sword he quickly realizes isn't there, everything's different.
Dusty wasteland instead of green forest, the smell of sand and grit on the wind, earth underneath him instead of wooden slats rumbling over a dirt road. He pushes himself upright, favoring the leg with the healing gash but refusing to let it slow him any as he cuts through the space. The throngs of people, all different manners of dress, most of which he's never seen before. The sun bleaches him out as he walks, makes him look undead or like a ghost, inhuman yellow eyes rimmed in read darting over the scene, trying to find something familiar, but there's nothing.
A man at a booth gives him a wide smile he doesn't trust, passes him a an envelope with a strange card and a set of keys inside, as well as a couple pamphlets, and he mumbles his thanks, receiving a small satchel of biscuits in return. Odd, but he says nothing, only keeps moving.
His path has him bumping into a few despite his efforts to avoid them, a grumbled apology as he keeps moving, trying to make sense of any of this, but there's none to be had. Far-travel, but Yennefer's long gone and he hasn't been around any witches or sorcerers lately, and everything feels too real to be a dream or death. The keys are marked with an address, so he finds his lodgings and goes through the box he finds there, finding his things. He leaves his armor and silver sword but takes his medallion and the ordinary one, straps it to his back before setting back out. A tavern should give him some insight, at least, so he steps inside the first one he finds and settles at the counter instead of a back table like he'd prefer. Works fingers against the strange object he'd found in his pocket, nails picking at parts and fingers pushing over parts of it, turning it over in his hands. Strange, he doesn't trust it, and then it suddenly blares into life, bright lights and odd music and he throws it across the room on reflex with a low growl.
WHAT: somebody's just arrived and isn't thrilled about it
WHEN: right now? probably until a couple days in
WHERE: all over!
WARNINGS: language, potentially violence
He doesn't exactly notice when things change. He's not in the best spot to, admittedly; the venom's still working its way out of his system, the old man's voice lulling him into something like sleep once he's got his wound cauterized, and the next time he opens his eyes, a rush of an exhale and wild gaze glancing around, reaching for a sword he quickly realizes isn't there, everything's different.
Dusty wasteland instead of green forest, the smell of sand and grit on the wind, earth underneath him instead of wooden slats rumbling over a dirt road. He pushes himself upright, favoring the leg with the healing gash but refusing to let it slow him any as he cuts through the space. The throngs of people, all different manners of dress, most of which he's never seen before. The sun bleaches him out as he walks, makes him look undead or like a ghost, inhuman yellow eyes rimmed in read darting over the scene, trying to find something familiar, but there's nothing.
A man at a booth gives him a wide smile he doesn't trust, passes him a an envelope with a strange card and a set of keys inside, as well as a couple pamphlets, and he mumbles his thanks, receiving a small satchel of biscuits in return. Odd, but he says nothing, only keeps moving.
His path has him bumping into a few despite his efforts to avoid them, a grumbled apology as he keeps moving, trying to make sense of any of this, but there's none to be had. Far-travel, but Yennefer's long gone and he hasn't been around any witches or sorcerers lately, and everything feels too real to be a dream or death. The keys are marked with an address, so he finds his lodgings and goes through the box he finds there, finding his things. He leaves his armor and silver sword but takes his medallion and the ordinary one, straps it to his back before setting back out. A tavern should give him some insight, at least, so he steps inside the first one he finds and settles at the counter instead of a back table like he'd prefer. Works fingers against the strange object he'd found in his pocket, nails picking at parts and fingers pushing over parts of it, turning it over in his hands. Strange, he doesn't trust it, and then it suddenly blares into life, bright lights and odd music and he throws it across the room on reflex with a low growl.