gynvael | abraxas:: INBOX

[ Julie knows that the dates don't exactly line up, and that Geralt still doesn't understand exactly what Christmas is, and also that she is skirting her own line of comfort in terms of clearly defined affection. That's the odd thing about their situationship, she finds -- the longer it goes, the harder it is to determine what might be too much, too close to a label. Christmas presents, or at least this one specific one, makes her feel like maybe she's putting too much of herself out there; she is keenly aware that she is going to feel like shit if he hates it, if only because she put a lot of effort into it.

But she can't just not give him a gift, considering she got everyone else gifts. And she really did spend a lot of time on this, on working it out and creating it. So she puts it in a box and wraps it along with the others, but she doesn't deliver it alongside Jaskier's and Ciri's.

Instead, she makes him come to her, in her living room where there is a real, traditional Christmas tree she conjured, lights and all. The smell of balsam is somewhat stark in the middle of the desert, and the sun is harsh for the winter. The only thing under the tree is a box wrapped in gold paper, which she hands to him before she sits back down. ]

I know it's not a holiday for you, but merry Christmas.

[ After the previous year, Geralt has learned presents happen around this time for nearly everyone across multiple spheres. Dark winter days mean folk want something to look forward to, he supposes. He's spent a bit of time searching for gifts in return, not because he gives a shit about celebrations—whether Christmas or Yule or the Solstice—but because these are people important to him. Maybe he's growing sentimental in his old age. Who the fuck knows? He prefers not to think on it too deeply.

Besides. He'll have always gotten something for Ciri. What's one or two more? (Ironically—or perhaps as expected—his oldest friend will receive no present, though he will get one from Jaskier regardless. That's simply how it is between them.)

When Julie invites him, he slips her gift into a pocket and shows up at her door, letting himself in. The smell of fir is both familiar and odd to find in Cadens—and he peers at the brightly decorated tree for a moment before the neatly wrapped box lands in his hands. ]

I believe it is now. [ He smiles a little. He's apparently adopted Halloween. He can adopt Christmas. The date's only a bit off from Yule. Close enough.

He sets the box on the nearest surface, unwrapping the gold paper with some care. He's curious. What he'll find inside. ]

[ His answer catches her slightly off-guard, and she blinks before she smiles too. While she's aware that her particular holidays are overrepresented amongst the Summoned, it still feels like something special, to have it taken to heart. Like sharing something meaningful.

He may or may not recognize what's in the box as a snow globe -- she hasn't actually considered whether he might have ever seen anything like it before. The wooden base is dark and smooth, with a small indent on the top. The globe is fully spherical, closed glass that can be lifted from the base, if desired. Though not noticeable, it has been charmed to be unbreakable.

Inside the globe, there is a painted sculpture, a castle built on a mountain. The grass is green with snow on top, the mountain given little cliffs and even rogue branches here and there. The castle is as detailed as can be at that size, a replica of Kaer Morhen. Julie sat for days in the Horizon, sitting at the base of the mountains and sketching it for herself, over and over until she could see individual stones in her mind, to carry the image back into the real world. A tiny, animate horse the same color as the current Roach is at a trough in the courtyard, while a tiny white wolf prowls the gate.

The snow that falls inside the globe is also magical, constant and steady. There's a slight fog around the peak of the mountain that originates the snow, which only piles to an aesthetically pleasing point before disappearing and falling again.

It took her weeks to get the various elements right, starting from crafting the miniature keep from clay and painting it, to working out the various magical elements. There was more than one shattered ball of glass amongst the attempts. ]

Sorry if I got any of it wrong. I tried to remember everythin' I could.

[ Honestly, she's proud of herself even if he hates it. She managed every aspect she wanted to. ]

[ Though he isn't entirely certain what he expected, it is not to find Kaer Morhen tucked inside a glass orb. She's placed it there with both the bits he only added in the Horizon and the ones that were always there: the wolf, the broken gate, tiny skeletons buried the snow. The swirling white flakes gleam when he holds it up in the light. For a moment or two, he watches it, unblinking.

Then he looks up at her. ] You made this?

[ Of course she had. Every piece is there, down to the smallest crack in the stone and the faint scars on the stalking wolf. He's seen her conjure objects, but nothing near this finely detailed. It must've taken her an age to do. It's beautiful. More than that, no one's ever thought to preserve the deteriorating fortress before. Why would they? But she has. There's something special in knowing it'll always be standing somewhere now, in miniature. ]

Makes me want to step inside it. [ The scenery is absurdly lifelike. He adds nothing else, though he places the orb back on its stand with a care that says more than words will.

Ciri will love it, too. He already knows where he wants to put it when he's home.

But first, he offers Julie a small leather pouch, unwrapped except for the cord that ties it together. He's had it a while. Acquired a few months back, after a bit of searching (killing). Inside is a curved fang—different, naturally, than the wyvern fang he'd made, but a monster's tooth nonetheless. A real one. He'd considered on and off, the notion of a gift he technically already gave, but he's noticed the way she's never taken it off in the Horizon. He thinks, perhaps, she should have one she can wear in the physical world. Made from a creature he's actually hunted, instead of crafted out of thin air.

The real difference, though, is that the tooth is set in the strange metal substance from Nocwich—designed to attune and absorb magic. On the back, a few Elder runes are etched. Like nearly everything Geralt gives, it's more than just a decorative piece. ]

Uh-huh. [ A breath she didn't even realize was caught in her chest is released. It's one thing to know that she's proud of herself for it, but it does matter to her that he likes it. ] I made the pieces outta clay -- I used magic to make it match my memory perfectly. Then I put it together with the snow spell and charmed the animals before I sealed it all in glass. It should be shatterproof, but maybe don't test that part of the spell on purpose.

[ She can't hide her happiness, and doesn't really try. There has been precious little in the past months to be happy about, and something about holding onto these out-of-place holidays has been one of her grounding threads. They feel like anchors, these traditions, and she's been lucky that so many other people have identical ones to celebrate with her. Otherwise, it would just be sad, fixating on days that she would be among the last to ever remember.

Biting her lip absently, she takes the pouch and fishes out the tooth. Something flares in her chest, warm and squeezing; she's never actually mentioned it, but she's spent months trying to bring the one in the Horizon outside. Not that she was putting much sweat into it, but she would give it a go every time, just in case. Couldn't hurt, she'd figured, but she never managed to make it work.

Julie runs her thumb over the tooth for a moment. She never learned much about the metal from Nocwich, certainly not enough to identify it by sight alone, but she can feel something of it. Not in a tactile way, but in a sense that she can't describe clearly, like it's brushing against some part of her that she can't see. Her magic. Turning it over, she can recognize the symbols as runes, but not ones she knows -- Wanda only taught Julie the ones from her own world, which were slightly more familiar shapes than these.

She looks up at him, eyes shiny in the light of the fire and the little bulbs that flicker on the tree. Her voice is soft. ] What does it say?

[ As she describes it, he gives the orb another peek, then back at her. She does appear happy. That means something to him, too, for similar reasons. Holidays may not look the same for him as others, but winter remains a time he looks forward to. Where he sees his family again, puts away the shadows of the world, and spends the next few months with the people who know him best.

He can't go home the same way anymore. But this—it's good. Not a replacement for what he left behind, but something equally significant. It's close. ]

Keinme. [ He guides her finger over the carved runes. ] The Elder word for power.

[ There's no magic in the word; it's a reminder, a symbol, like the runes carved into his blade or his medallion. ]

I didn't have it enchanted. They say the metal can hold magic. You can put yours in it.

[ He's left it open for her to place what she wants inside, when she wants. Like a locket, for a spell. Something she can carry with her. ]

Keinme. [ She repeats it quietly. Power. All her life, she's been chasing power, to grab any that she could for herself. She'd been powerless for so long, and when she finally got close to it, everything was ripped away.

And now she does have power, more than she ever thought possible. Not power siphoned off others, not shallow power that she used to hurt others. Real, undeniable power, a connection to this world and to the Singularity.

But more than that, she now has everything she always wanted. The power, but also the people. Sure, it's not exactly the world as she dreamt it -- magical world jumping didn't factor into her fantasies -- but for everything it's missing, Abraxas gives her something better.

The warmth in her ribs feels tight, like there's so much there that she could burst, and she glances at him one more time before she puts the necklace in his hand and then twists to face away. She brushes her hair over one shoulder, and looks back over the other. ] Put it on for me?

[ He'd spent a bit of time deliberating what to put on it. This felt the most fitting, and he's glad she seems to understand what he means by it. A personal sort of power, the kind that can't be stolen from you, that you find for yourself in the world.

He sweeps the few remaining locks out of the way, then affixes the necklace. There's a small smile on his face when she turns back around. Soft, maybe a little unconscious, like he's not quite aware of it. ]

Suits you.

[ He adjusts the chain, fingers lingering. The silver catches the light of the tree, where it curves around the tooth. He'll have to show her the monster he plucked it out of some time. In the Horizon, perhaps. ]

[ She could swear that she actively feels warmer when he finishes clasping the chain. Maybe it's just the wine; she absolutely did not stop drinking just because she came back to Cadens. Drinking less, slightly, but she may have enchanted one of her bags to be able to store many more bottles of Lunaen wine than it should have been able to. There are glasses on the table now.

Suits you, he says when she turns around, and for a split second, she can feel tears well in the corner of her eyes. You see me, she thinks, and never in her goddamn life has she ever felt so overwhelmingly happy that she thought she might cry.

Fuck. She lets out a breath, moving herself to his lap, facing him. Her hands shake a little when she puts her hand on his cheek. ]

Thank you. [ It's the only thing she can think to murmur. She refuses to dignify this emotional slip with any further attention, so she kisses him. ]

[ He sees it. The shine in her eyes. He curls his fingers around her wrist when she touches him. It isn't that he'd not expected the gift to mean anything—he'd chosen it for a reason—but perhaps he'd not thought it would mean this much. It surprises him, though not in an unwelcome way.

His expression is contemplative. Quiet. He doesn't say anything, either—predictably so—and when she moves in to kiss him, he leans forward to meet her. His eyes fall shut.

He's glad they have this year. Last winter was...more difficult. And though the world is hardly stable, the people around him, this little life he's reforged—it feels steadier than ever. More than he's had in a long time, even before he set foot in this sphere. ]

[ She blames the wine. And hormones. And the holidays. Literally every other thing in the world. Julie will not acknowledge these incredibly embarrassing emotions, because it isn't solely the necklace -- it is the culmination of possibly the most progressive year of her life, in every sense. And the most stable since Trips, ironically. Reflective happiness, that Geralt simply managed to capture in a single gift, at the exact moment when all those other factors were making her vulnerable. To feelings. That's it.

Tomorrow, she'll have to go bully someone a bit, just to feel a little more like herself. Dean, maybe. It's been at least a week since she put him in his place. (That can also be Christmas gift for Geralt.)

Her other hand clutches his shoulder, squeezes. With her eyes closed, the sensation that her eyes might tear fades away, and she sighs. When she sits back just slightly to look at him, she reaches up and holds the fang again, glancing down at it. ]

What does this come from? Not a wyvern. [ She is still unclear on what exactly a wyvern is and how it's different from a dragon, but the shapes don't match. ]

[ He tilts his head back when they part. Behind them, the tree twinkles. He touches her cheek, then lowers his hand to settle it on her waist. They don't need to talk about it. This says enough. ]

A sandskid. One of those massive worms. [ The kind that you can feel emerging miles away, like a small quake. ] Ugly bastard. Sturdy teeth, though.

[ He actually cannot tell if its body contains more teeth, or if its teeth are made of the claws on its body. They appear identical in shape and material. The biology of the beast makes no difference in how it dies, so he's never looked too closely into it. ]

I killed it some weeks back. Went out there for Howler, and watched this thing swallow it whole instead.

[ So he'd cut it open and retrieved both. Paid for two kills for the effort of one, which is about as well as a job can go. He can't complain. And it netted him a tooth that she will find is incredibly durable. He'd had to dig around in the back of its mouth for one of the smaller ones. He kept it for a bit, then finally brought it to a jeweller. Had Christmas not been near, he'd likely have given it to her without any real occasion behind it. ]

[ It probably says a lot that the howler is what brings a shiver up her spine, not the sandskid. A giant worm is just a vicious animal, but the dead howlers she's seen dragged back are utterly terrifying. Many of the "monsters" Julie's heard of, from him and others, sound like either other races of sentient beings, or simply some kind of beast. But the first time she saw a howler, she understood on an instinctive level that she was looking at a monster.

The story is both impressive and funny at the same time; imagining his face as an enormous worm swallows his target is particularly hysterical. She lets the tooth hang back down against her sternum and wraps her arms around his neck. She smirks. ]

Well, I'm flattered that you looked at a big worm and thought of me. Most girls could only wish to be so lucky. [ Her tone is teasing, a little sing-songy. ] Any suggestions for what spell I should use?

Edited (do not perceive this edit) 2023-01-09 05:40 (UTC)

[ He makes a noise that's almost a laugh, teasing in return. ] First thing I thought of when I saw it.

[ He tilts his head up to look at her. Hm. Good question. He'd considered having it enchanted for her, but it seemed fitting to let her do it, when her magic is more powerful than most everyone in Cadens.

But he did have a spell in mind, when he was thinking about it. Knowing what he does about her connection, the fact that he's no idea what may happen if the wrong people learn of it— ]

After I returned from Thorne, I asked the necromancer to enchant a circlet. To protect against invasions of the mind. I gave it to Ciri. [ Hector had warned the magic may not hold in all cases—not the man's specialty—but it isn't nothing. ] If you studied it—you could make your own. A stronger one, even.

[ She chuckles and kisses him lightly again, then brushes a strand of his hair from his face as he thinks. It's a good thought, but unfortunately, the first thought she has in response is, ]

There's a corpse fucker here?

[ Believe it or not, this is not the first time she's had this conversation in Abraxas.

Her second thought, which she manages to keep inside, is that it would have been more helpful spell to have a few months ago, when she touched that stupid fucking blob, but that's neither here nor there, really. It's a good idea either way. But Julie has never really tried to replicate someone else's spell before, not in the sense of actually trying to work out what they did. Her spells tend more toward the tangible, the visible -- things she can visualize and then just keep practicing until they look right. She's never attempted any stronger protection than basic runes Wanda taught her.

But Julie's entire approach to magic has been trial and error. She's willing to try. It would be a valuable thing for her to have. ]

You think Ciri would let me borrow it?

[ A what? Geralt raises an eyebrow. ]

No, he— [ He pauses. Well. He should hope Hector wasn't one. Never caught him in the act, at least. Which possibly isn't the most generous endorsement. ] Think he only fucked Jaskier.

[ Hector lived with them for a bit. Undeniably in love with the bard, as it apparently keeps happening. Who could say why. (He knows why.)

He nods. ] Sure.

[ Ciri will always help Julie. She can part with it for a short time. It isn't vital. Just an added measure that he mostly hopes Ciri will never need to use. Julie, he is certain, can replicate the spell. She's learned a hell of a lot, faster than any mage he's seen. Perhaps she'll learn enough one day to no longer need a necklace to guard her.

He leans in to kiss her again, deeper, his fingers curling lightly around the pendant's chain. ]

[ It is not Julie's fault that the words are almost the same. Maybe necromancers should come up with a name that's less associated with terrible desecration of human remains. ]

Okay. [ She says it softly. Ciri will always help her, but she doesn't want Ciri to feel put out. An important gift can feel strange to lend out, even if it's not something you use on a daily basis.

He kisses her and she makes a pleased sound, arms tightening around him. Her eyelids fall closed as her weight settles closer, her knees digging into the sofa. ]

[ Possibly for the best Geralt chooses not to mention Hector's obsession with un-aliving animals; that might raise an entirely new set of concerns. (No, he has not forgotten when he traded a rabbit meant for a meal, and Hector promptly reanimated it into a fucking pet.)

She straddles him on either side, and he moves to hold her. His fingers curl, shifting to slide a bit under the edge of her skirt. If he closes his eyes and ignores the warmth, the smell of balsam is almost reminiscent of home.

Or what was home. He supposes it's here now; it isn't that strange to think about as it might've once been. For all that he's left behind, he also has what he needs here. ]

Edited 2023-01-15 15:51 (UTC)

[ Strangely, this feels to Julie like the most authentic Christmas moment she's ever had as an adult. Like she's somehow fallen into a dumb Hallmark Christmas movie. It might be warm outside, but in the dark, the desert is easier to forget. The twinkle of not just the tree's lights, but all the Enlightenment decorations in other windows offers cover for the lack of snow, and it smells like Christmas, and this is the part of the movie that makes dowdy girls swoon and sigh and feel bad about their own lives.

She will not be considering other pieces of that puzzle, but she will be satisfied by the achievement and her own happiness.

One hand tangling in his hair, she hitches her skirt up with the other. It scrunches around her hips as she leans into him, biting his lip. ]

[ As her skirt bunches up, he slides his hand down, over her bare thighs. His palms are rough, warm. He's grown familiar with her place now, this little home she shares with Nadine—and it's automatic to push aside the cushion that seems to always be in his way when they're on the couch.

Then he's leaning back, legs spreading to invite her to settle further on top. He breaks the kiss only for a moment, kissing the curve of her jaw before he returns to her lips. He closes his eyes, lets her scent wash over him.

He trails his hand further up her leg, towards her backside, and squeezes, blunt edges of his nails digging in a hint. ]

[ Almost immediately, she rolls her hips against his, clutching the side of his face with the hand she's using to not tug at his hair. When he kisses her jaw, she sighs and leans further over him, her hair like pink curtains on either side.

Her heartbeat speeds up as she puts her weight on him. Her fingertips trail down his cheek and neck, then scrape over the skin exposed by the open buttons. When she arches her back, she moves her mouth away to inhale sharply, nose to nose with him. ]

Want you. [ Her voice is thick, almost plaintive. ]

[ The light scratch of her nails sends a lightning spark up his spine. He nips at her lower lip, slips his hand between her legs. If she isn't wet already, he'll be quick to change that, trailing along with his fingers, easing inside. ]

Mm-hmm. Do you? [ He's teasing. She has him, of course.

He lets his impatience take over, matching hers. He removes his hand to work the buttons down his trousers free. Little is needed before he's ready for her; he coaxes her down, tilting back up to kiss her once more. A soft breath escapes him. ]

[ She takes a shaky breath, doesn't quite manage to fully hold back a whimper. As she rocks into his hand, her head drops to his shoulder, her nose pressed into the crook of his neck. Her thighs are already slick, her skin flushed pink all over from her cheeks down.

Instead of responding to his teasing, she just bites his neck with a kittenish growl. Only slightly more gentle than would leave a mark, and when he takes his hand back, she runs her tongue over the shallow indents her teeth leave before she lifts her head back up.

He kisses her again and she clutches the sides of his face. She doesn't move immediately; instead, she tightens around him and lifts his shirt, tugging it up like it's a personal slight. ]

[ The sharp pinch of her teeth draws a low sound out of him, catching in his throat. He tilts his head, offering more as she bears down. His fingers come away slick.

He's nosing at the dip in her collarbone, inching towards her breast, when she pulls at his shirt. It's thoughtless to let go for the briefest moment to toss it aside, before he's tugging her close again. Her hair brushes over him; he buries his fingers in the thick locks.

His other hand splays over her back, digging a little into the crook between her neck and shoulder. She's wrapped tight around him, but somehow it doesn't feel tight enough. Heat sweeps through him, and he grinds back against her. ]

[ When he pulls her back to him, his skin is so hot pressed against her. She can map him by memory now, every raised line and darkened spot left over from his various battles, and she can feel where each one currently brushes against her own flesh. Her arms wrap around his neck and shoulders, one hand curled at the back of his head.

She may not be tight enough for him (rude), but when still, she feels so full that she has to focus just to take a deep breath. Her legs quiver a little when she rises a bit and begins to move at an easy speed. Her chest heaves when she pants, clutching him to herself. Her head falls backward, eyes closed, and her hair tickles her back. ]

christmas morning; you have to thread with me to get the present, non-optional

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