gynvael | abraxas:: INBOX

[ 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. ]

[ The edge of her nail scratches over the dense mass of jagged scarring down his back. It ends the lightest jolt through. He cups her breast, lets the rough pad of his thumb explore as she rides him.

As she leans back, he follows the long curve of her throat. Kisses it, nestles into it, breathing heavy. The bloodrush fills his ears; her pulse flutters, trapped between them with how close they're pressed together. ]

Julie— [ Whatever he means to say fades into smoke; feels like his brain is about to go the same way. ]

[ She holds his head to her neck, fingers still curled into his scalp, and her cheek rests against his temple. His breath is damp on her skin, humid. She times the movement of her hips with it, following the rhythm without thinking about it. Small, wordless noises keep coming from somewhere low in her throat.

All she can think about is how he takes up all of her senses, how it's like there's nothing else in the world when they're like this, how the tooth bouncing on her sternum feels heavier than it actually is. Geralt says her name like a prayer, and her chest aches, like someone standing on top of her ribcage in combat boots, threatening to crush her under the weight, and it's good. The world's heaviest weighted blanket.

She grinds down and then gasps, nails dug into his flesh like someone might try to literally snatch him away at this exact moment. Everything is white and burning and her whole body goes so tense that she already starts to feel sore. She can barely even breathe, and yet a single fierce hiss escapes when she can inhale again. ]

Mine.

[ He finds his pace alongside her on instinct, a learned familiarity. His breaths are uneven, a ragged snarl escaping when her nails bite into his shoulder. Every muscle in his body coils tight. She's so fully enveloped around him, he can't feel anything else.

The medallion warms between their bodies. He drives up into her, liquid fire igniting deep inside him. His toes curl. There's heedless abandon in the way he grips her, the kind he seldom allows to take over. Except now, here, in moments like this. A different release than just pleasure.

His eyes fall shut again. When he answers, it's without thought. A rough, ] Yeah, [ in between an exhale and a stuttered pause before the next breath. ]

[ For a long moment, there is nothing in her head except a soft rushing. No chaos, no colors, not even normal thoughts. Just pure nothing, and that alone is enough to send a fresh wave of sparks up her spine. He grabs her so hard that it hurts and she only whines, clings to him with limbs that feel like gelatin. She can't stop trembling where she sits, rocking gently back and forth.

Panting, she cranes her neck as awareness starts to return to her, kissing down his face until she catches his mouth. His teeth are sharp where they graze her tongue; she sighs happily and readjusts her fingers in his hair.

The lingering static that sizzles under her skin makes everything feel fuzzy and soft, like a haze. Her heart stops pounding, slows down again. Their foreheads touch when she moves to take a few deep breaths, chest still heaving just a little.

Eyelids scarcely more than cracked open, she lightly runs her thumb along the fine, dark veins next to his eye. ]

[ The tips of his nails sharpen with his teeth, the first time they've both turned pointed together. He doesn't notice, pays no mind to a thing except the way she grabs at him. Her lips on his, he thinks he might be burning inside out.

He rocks harder, until the pressure bursts. A shudder runs down his spine; his chest heaves, and his heart beats fast enough it nearly matches hers. The twinkling lights from the tree blur into haloed spots.

The darkened veins are thin, the black not quite filling all of his eyes. But it's close, and it makes his pupils look as though they've blown wide. He leans in to kiss her again, a pleasant fading ache spreading over him. ]

[ She is vaguely aware that his nails are digging in and they kind of hurt, but not that they've actually sharpened; she mostly thinks he's just grabbing harder than he realizes, and it's not enough to break skin so she doesn't say anything. She doesn't hate it, anyway.

That delicate ring of gold still left in his eyes is captivating, and she exhales deeply before he kisses her again and her eyes fall shut. She still occasionally shivers, goosebumps along her spine. As she cards her fingers through his hair, her other hand rests on his arm.

As her heart and lungs taper off the rush of adrenaline, she feels the noise start to try and return from the very edges of her consciousness. Like a predator watching her from the tall grass, waiting for the right chance to strike. The fact that she can already feel the ache in her skull, memory preparing for the imminent pain, makes her want to scream into a pillow. Why, why can't she have more than just a few moments of peace?

Instead she lets out a heavy, frustrated breath and buries her face against his neck, her body still wrapped all around him as she curls up slightly. ]

[ Steadily, his pulse returns to its slow pace, breathing evening out—his recovery quicker, always, than most humans, though the satisfying buzz beneath his skin lingers much longer. He relaxes, content to soak in the afterglow for a bit. It's where he expects to stay for at least the next few minutes.

So the tension that overtakes her catches him by surprise. Geralt pulls back, his hand going to her cheek. His nails remain pointed, a hint curved. ] Something the matter?

[ She's been through a lot, but he'd thought she's started putting what happened behind her. As much as they all can, that is. Even if he still worries when she goes into the Horizon. Occasionally imagines that she will not emerge again. That he doesn't understand why is what troubles him. It makes it near impossible to predict when it might happen again. ]

[ She raises her head with a begrudging huff, though she immediately leans into his hand without thinking. There's something in her eyes that is distinctly tired. Not sated, not contented, not even sleepy. It's a much deeper exhaustion, edged with an unending headache.

And it's also pretty clear that she's not exactly happy about it, either. Julie is used to handling her own problems, and to have something that she seemingly can't change or fix, something that's hurting her, makes her feel small and weak. Defenseless.

For the obvious reasons, that doesn't sit particularly well with her.

Behind her, wine is being poured, the bottle floating in midair. This is even less reprieve from the pain than she usually gets from sex, so the other other thing she can do is drink. ]

I'm okay. [ She is still forever stubborn. Hiding the wound like an animal. ] Just a headache.

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