abraxas:: INBOX

[gynvael]

Inbox

» action

» text

» Horizon

Geralt is always reachable by the network. Unless it's an emergency, expect not to hear back for a few hours, if not a few days.

To talk to him in person, you'll need to be in Cadens or go to his domain, a snowy mountain fortress. Yard is open; doors are locked. If he isn't around, leave a delivery with the white wolf.

(CODE)

Navigation

Comments

[gynvael]

[ Once he has left the item (it is not a gift; it's just something he wants Jaskier to have), Geralt says nothing of it. He's on his way home now, to determine what he wants to do next where that cave is concerned.

Revisit it, he thinks, for certain. Leaving it there now that he knows it exists leaves him uneasy. If something were to happen...

He's resting in the shade of another cavern during the afternoon sun when Jaskier's message arrives. Geralt chews on some bean pods picked off a tree and dried meat he packed along, the weather too hot to bother hunting for a meal until nightfall. Jaskier, too, says nothing directly of the lantern. But he knows exactly what his friend means.

A quiet fondness rises in his chest. It is a feeling that does not at all transfer when he replies. ]

How in the fuck does a moogle learn to weave new spells?
I only taught him one Sign.

[ Moglad is evolving a bit past what Geralt intended when he started training that creature. He's seen it lift its sword and summon its spiky armor. It's Jaskier's doing, of course—the creature and Jaskier are connected—but nonetheless. The fact that Moglad speaks to him, even when Jaskier is not present, makes it difficult to remember that it is not really a sentient creature but a creation of the Horizon like everything else. ]

[cointosser]

[Jaskier is just as fond, the response so terribly Geralt that he can hear him forming the words. He laughs. Tells Ciri what he's said.] I'm beginning to think Geralt enjoys bullying my poor moogle.

[All right, there's nothing poor about Moglad. He's bloody spoiled rotten, drinks as much as he wants, sleeps most of the time and then spends all his other waking hours fluttering around a small paradise. He's even taken to leaving the tree, sometimes, when he feels it's safe again, his sword at his side.

Wait.]

What on -- when the fuck did you teach him a sign? Are you insane? It wasn't Igni, was it? Even you would not be so stupid, surely. Moglad's drunk about as often as he's sober.

[He calms himself. There isn't a chance Geralt would do it, but he has to say it anyway.] Well, apparently moogles have a natural affinity towards magic. He told me he "wants to keep the flames of life burning." I think he's begun reading poetry.

[gynvael]

Moglad is never sober.
Except when I'm there to teach him.

[ Which is only because Geralt will not train him otherwise. ]

He learned Aard.
Seems to use it to spin himself in the air.

[ If he recognizes Jaskier's momentary distress through the rush of words, he makes no comment on it. Something tells him the moogle would not be capable of learning a spell Jaskier would not want him to learn, anyhow. Besides, he isn't seriously training Moglad. Not really. It's still only something to do, when he's in the Horizon, and he's perhaps found it a bit entertaining that the creature has taken surprisingly well to some of the lessons.

Geralt will not grant him a sharp sword, however. The blade the moogle carries continues to be dull steel at the edges with a rounded tip. But he has got a small dull dagger to go along with it now, which is little more than a toothpick to any actual person. ]

[cointosser]

[If Geralt could hear his gasp, he'd hear it now.] How rude! He's sober! Occasionally!

[Which is enough for him. Besides, he is the very last person to get on Moglad's case for wanting to be drunk. (In some ways, he's afraid he --)

Himeka has told him before that moogles simply love to drink, though. That it does not come from him.

Aard. Aard makes sense. And while it could be destructive, he can trust Moglad not to hurt anything. Or anyone.

To use it to amuse himself.]

Don't be jealous you didn't think of it first.

[gynvael]

[ Jaskier needn't worry; the most Moglad can accomplish with what he's learned is shake some vines until grapes fall down for him to eat—so that he can lay on the ground instead of flying up to pluck them. His body is too damn small. The force of more would blast him right backwards before anything else. (Maybe. Probably.)

That's likely how Moglad discovered he can propel himself in the air, now that Geralt thinks about it.

He frowns. Wait. What does that mean? He can't fly. (Would be useful, though.) ]

I haven't got wings, Jaskier.

[cointosser]

Well, have you ever tried flying with Aard? There's a first time for everything! I'm just saying, I'm starting to think Moglad's a bit more inventive with his powers than some other Witchers of renown may be.

[gynvael]

Jaskier.
Go to sleep.

[cointosser]

Fine, fine. You're no fun! I'll update you on more tomorrow, Geralt. Goodnight.