gynvael | abraxas:: INBOX

[The knock on the door is soft, rapping thrice before it stops all together. Should no one be at home, or the wrong person answer the door, Alucard can make an excuse and leave. Wait outside in near by alley or overhang as a wolf, rather than be asked he's out, but what brings you by?

He hasn't been willing to take the risk before. Sypha's return threw him and Alucard knew it bothered him, but the extent was not clear to him until two nights ago when all manner of ghosts walked among the living. He barely reacted, never mind had to put effort into trying to help. That's not himself, even at his worst moments.

Perspective. That's the reason he seeks Geralt out, if nothing else. He needs it, badly, because until the crypt work is done, the dhampir's in the waking world and must exist within it.

So he stands quietly on the other side of the door, waiting.]

[ Geralt is, in fact, inside Kaer Morhen. He's here because Ciri told him some time ago she had found a small pendant engraved with lilacs and gooseberries in his room, hidden away, and he's only now finally come to retrieve it. His thumb is tracing over the Elder script on the back when the knock comes.

Hm. He slips the token into a drawer and makes his way downstairs. Not many who bother to knock. Ciri can let herself in; Amos doesn't need to because Geralt always meets him outside first. His wolf tends to alert him to strangers. That leaves...

He opens the door. His eyes land on a familiar head of blond on an especially tall figure. Right. Thought so. He takes in Alucard for a second. They share a city. Alucard knows where to find him at this point. There's a reason the vampire (dhampir) has come here instead.

So he only turns and steps back inside, doors open: an indication for Alucard to come along, too. ]

[Alucard steps in, aware that in the light, he probably looks like shit. He can't actually look paler than he is naturally, but there are heavy bags under his eyes and dirt under his fingernails, with no attempt to address either. Flyaways in his hair when in theory, he has access to water and enough time to go through whatever insane routine he normally does with his hair.

Nothing in his step suggests this is a result of too many days of drinking though, as tempting as a bender has been lately. The dhampir figures that's the worst part. If he was drinking like the Belmont, at least he'd have an excuse for looking like shit.

His eyes cast around warily.]

Are you the only one here?

[ The heavy doors swing shut behind them. It's a hint warmer inside than it'd been the previous times—Ciri's influence, perhaps, though Geralt's not conscious of it either way—and the same fires and torches flare. There is, however, the small addition of a miniature horse made of vines and succulents: a joke, from Jaskier, that's stayed since. It trots along one of the tables, roaming as any real horse would.

Geralt swings a leg over a bench and sits. He slides a goblet of wine across the table: an offer.

Alucard does look like shit. For him, that is. Normally impeccable, he now looks, mm. Almost as bad as Geralt, except Alucard still manages to come out ahead. Geralt has dust and dirt staining his hands and probably dried blood, on top of hair that's not been brushed for days and that's mostly fallen loose again. ]

Mm-hmm. [ No Ciri. She has her own space across the yard, besides. ] What's this about?

[The horse has Alucard's attention for a moment. He stares at it, blinking once to make sure he's seeing what he thinks he sees, then shaking his head. It is terribly out of place against Geralt, but knowing the others that reside here? It makes sense. There's some other context to it that maybe he'll learn about one day. For now?

For now wine. He takes it before he even sits, downing it in one fell swoop. That is the mood, although there's enough grace left in him not to slam it down. The goblet's placed gently back where it was before Alucard sits.]

--I don't know. Perspective. Something. [His shoulders slump, and in truth, Alucard's pretty much at the point where he'd like to just do a full body slump somewhere out of view.] I didn't realize one person's presence could put me this out of sorts.

[Had Alucard been left free when he was first summoned to Thorne, he might've looked closer to this. Fucked up and debating drink all the time (definitely a drunk, he should be honest with himself), struggling with looking after himself. Limited space and fear had forced some control onto him.]

[ Wine's a decent option; Alucard's unlikely to receive much more than the bard as an explanation were he to ask about the miniature steed, named either Fen or Roach the Second depending on who you ask. Which, possibly, serves as plenty of explanation in and of itself.

Geralt plucks the horse up as though it were simply a mug in his way and sets it aside, where it continues to wander obliviously and lazily graze on nothing in particular. (Must be a nice existence.)

He raises an eyebrow. ] You realize who you're seeking perspective from regarding personal relationships.

[ There's only one reason a person's presence can put someone out of sorts, and it's one that spells intimate. Attachment of the emotional variety. All things which Geralt is...fine, he can't truthfully say any longer he doesn't do those things, but he sure as fuck does not do them well.

Still, he makes a gesture that indicates for Alucard to go on, if he's to insist. Maybe Alucard's here solely because Geralt lacks any investment in Alucard's life, generally speaking. Beyond the vampire not eating anyone off the street in plain view. ]

[Alucard would absolutely accept the bard did it as the source of the horse. The bard does a lot, like gift dhampirs potatoes. (Shit, that's one of the few things he needs to go and get from the room, isn't it?) But his mind is far from horses and only minimally interested in potatoes right now. Maybe the horse has the right idea though. To be a magical construct and graze upon naught.]

I don't have to get into the basic circumstances with you. [Meaning that it's absolutely related to what they discussed in the Horizon before, and Alucard's at least miserable enough not to snap that response. Instead his words seem like they're likely to drown under their own weight.] It stems from that. The whole thing was predicated on a prophecy that it would take three to destroy my father, not just one. A scholar and a hunter, but in reality, that translated to a Speaker and well, a more family business based version of what you do, just solely dedicated to my father.

[There's really no better way to explain the Belmonts, at least not when one is trying to get through it quickly.] I cared for them and they cared for me, or at least that was the impression I was under. When the dust settled, they left. Time moved on, and they did as well. I heard nothing from any means of communication. Speakers are an oral culture, so a messenger might have been viable. Magic could have been used. But there was silence. In their wake, I opened both the castle doors and myself to others who arrived, and hospitality was returned with treachery. [God. More wine. He needs more wine.]

In....since being outside of Thorne, it's all been manageable. [He told two whole people what happened. There were things to do. He was forced to be active, to at least earn a living. Alucard feels his stomach church at this part.] The Speaker is here, and now I'm--

[Gesturing at himself isn't very informative, but Alucard really can't make himself do much else.] I couldn't muster any ability to deal with that graveyard disturbance a few nights ago. Normally I might have.

[ That is certainly misery radiating off of Alucard. (More so than usual.) Geralt does not particularly care about being snapped at for his bluntness—largely expects to be—so the fact that he hasn't been says a lot about the dhampir's state.

He pours himself a drink while he listens. Isn't this hitting a little too fucking close to home. His brows draw together. It's difficult to know what to say; he has both been left and been the one who left, for a multitude of complicated reasons. And he sure as hell knows what it is to have someone you had moved on from suddenly enter your life all over again. (It's not ideal.)

For a moment or two, he's silent. He sets an entire bottle of wine in front of Alucard. Vampire can help himself. ]

Do they recall a different relationship with you? [ Considering what this world does, that's an important point to mark. ]

Edited 2021-11-01 19:14 (UTC)

[There's no attempt to even pour the wine into the cup he was using moments before. The dhampir takes a very, very long sip of the contents, the thud when it actually goes down on the table suspiciously lighter than before.

Alucard can't know how close to home he's managed. He'd laugh if he knew, bitter and horrified and finding some comfort in not being alone in the matter.]

No. She knows she's been away for some time. Any further details were not discussed. [It absolutely devolved into a shouting match.] Seemed surprised that a basic apology didn't go over well.

[ This isn't his business. Neither was Alucard's confession about his father, but that had been a matter over and done with. This is...a present complication. Frankly, he hasn't got a clue what Alucard is looking for out of him, but Alucard also knows him by now—knows what he'll get when he brings something like this to the Witcher's attention—and so he decides not to speculate on what's going through Alucard's mind.

Instead, he offers the same candor he always does. ] Then perhaps your impressions were wrong. And there's nothing more to pursue.

[ Sometimes, you don't mean as much to someone as you believed. Sometimes that's simply what it is. Geralt has never found a good reason to search for what he knows isn't there, to keep people in your life who don't wish to be involved. He thinks Alucard could learn to do the same. ]

Edited 2021-11-03 22:33 (UTC)

Mm.

[The rumble Alucard makes suggests that this is something he had considered. But he considered it in the abstract and under the assumption that neither Belmont nor Speaker would appear here. Moving on is easier without the other person constantly around. Or thinking they can right a wrong and everything will be just fine.

Long, slender fingers reach up into his own hair, for want of something to hold onto.]

Knowing what I do of her, she'll probably come back. Try the same apology again, and begin this cycle anew. Short of leaving the city, I'm not sure how to ensure a conversation will be final.

[ His eyebrow lifts a little at that. Until now, he'd assumed this woman didn't much care to pursue Alucard further.

Look, he's also lacking in real solutions here. Geralt's default mode is either to drive someone away or avoid them altogether, if he wants nothing to do with them. Not replying, in his opinion, is a perfectly fine way to ensure a conversation will be final. Combined with telling them to fuck off.

But he's also stubborn enough to never give an answer if he wants to. So there's that.

His gaze rests on Alucard, critical in its examination. ] Are you asking me about this because you want an excuse to be rid of her or because you want a reason to forgive her?

[Sypha is the most stubborn woman alive, Geralt. Can't wait for you to meet her.

Alucard manages to meet Geralt's eyes, although there's nothing clarifying in his own gaze. Uncertainty comes off of him in waves. He's drowning in it.]

I'm asking because you're one of the few people with a long term perspective, and you likely have experience with those who don't take final conversations as final conversations.

I also don't give a fuck about most people.

[ That may or may not be up for debate, but that's what Geralt is going with for this conversation. Because they're not here to discuss his particular habits when it comes to handling relationships, or exactly how he is about getting attached. ]

As long as you care about her, you'll never be rid of her.

[ Is he talking about Alucard or himself now? It doesn't matter. He knows, better than anyone, that sometimes the best thing to do is to close off your heart. And maybe some would try to tell him otherwise, but of those he's allowed into his life—it's been the exception, rather than the rule, that anything good has come of it. ]

[Not giving a fuck is the real reason he's asking, if Alucard was forced to be utterly honest with himself. Until he manages to get into his crypt, he probably needs to be better about not giving a fuck.

He closes his eyes, trying to process. It was easier when the only person from home was Hector. That much has become upsettingly obvious over the past several weeks.]

How do you move away from that then?

[ He sighs. This conversation is not what he needs. It feels like Alucard is asking, How do I stop caring, like you?, and the truth is, one does not. Sometimes he feels everything, sometimes he feels nothing, sometimes it's both all at once. None of it leaves him in a remotely ideal frame of mind.

And all these digging questions only brings forward too many jagged pieces of his past, his life. One that he does not share with Alucard. Not even close. Doesn't Alucard realize that he was raised so much more gently than a Witcher ever was? (Doesn't he realize he's asking for something Geralt has never wanted for himself? Something that even a hundred years later still leaves a painful wound that refuses to scar? That he's only the way he is because he was not given the choice to be otherwise?) ]

Every Witcher grows up understanding they are unwanted, from childhood. [ There's an underlying bitterness he can't completely hide, a rising irritation that makes him say too much. ] I did not move away from it. I was never a part of it. If you really want the same, I suggest you go back in time and ask your mother to discard you on the side of a fucking road instead of granting you your loving little home.

[Geralt's right. Not caring is the goal, because not caring means not dealing with this train wreck. Alucard knows he's bitter and angry at Sypha for being here at all, and it is in no small part because he felt he was doing better. He has a goal to work towards, and had found at least two people to confide in about the worst of it. Hell, Gideon had gotten him to laugh. Multiple times. That was an absolute victory, and yet just by mere presence, everything had been undone.

It also means he's absolutely not considering the few things that Geralt had shared of his past and making a few educated guesses about what not to ask, or at least consider what emotional minefields he might be stepping on.

So it means he reacts visibly to what the Witcher says next. A wince. And then a realization that this isn't going to help. Not how he thought it might, anyway. He's made another fucking mistake, and at least this time he can leave the conversation without being dragged into it again and again.

He stands up. Carefully, if only not to knock anything over. Makes sure to at least neaten his spot.]

I've taken up enough of your time. Thank you for the perspective.

[Curt and without emotion. The same dhampir from the cell in the first week.

He knows the way to the door.]

abraxas:: INBOX

Around 2 November, in person

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