(open) wind's howling

[decoctions]

● WHO: geralt & all
● WHAT: event open post, closed starters, & monthly catch-all
● WHEN: throughout june
● WHERE: anywhere!
● WARNINGS: sex, aphro, violence

i. wind's howling. (rain)

[ When the rain starts, Geralt is glad he'd had the forethought to weatherproof his little campsite. It comes in starts at first, at times even while the sun is still shining, but when the storm really rolls in, it pours nonstop from the darkened sky. There's so much water all at once that Geralt worries about flooding, but the soil seems to be porous enough, thankfully, to soak up much of the water. Still, it means an uncomfortable day and night of hunkering down to wait out the weather.

Used to living outdoors, Geralt accepts it as an inevitable inconvenience; he's got blankets, a mattress on a tall (if shoddy) bedframe, a fire built in one part of the half-collapsed building he's set up in, and makeshift canvas tarps laid out on the floor and beneath the roof of one of the more intact rooms. Roach, his horse and such a constant in his life that the Augur had apparently thought to bring her here with him, is tethered near the fire to keep her warm and relatively dry.

Out of necessity Geralt ventures out at least once while the rain is heaviest, retrieving a bucket he'd put out to collect clean water for both himself and Roach and pluck up some of the grass that's already started to sprout for her to munch on. If anything could convince him to brave this miserable weather, it's caring for his horse.

But he isn't the only one out. Eyes narrowing to see through the gloom and the water cascading from the sky, Geralt approaches. ]

You trying to catch your death out here?

[ His low growl might be hard to hear over the pounding of rain against the ground, so he gets closer, nodding his head back in the direction of his camp. ]

Come on. Got somewhere warm to sleep, if you want.

ii. after the storm (plants, love darts)

[ There is plenty to be done in the aftermath of the rain. Shelters need to be repaired, supplies need to be gathered, and all of this new growth of flora needs to be investigated. With a pretty extensive knowledge of flowers, plants, root, and berries, he's looking for anything that might be familiar or prove useful, whether to create decoctions, blade oils, simpler poultices, or just to eat. A lot of the plants, especially the flowering ones, are entirely new to him. Given his experiences so far he hadn't exactly expected to find a whole lot he'd recognize, but some of these things are so strange-looking that he has to take his time examining them.

Footsteps nearby make him turn instinctively toward whoever might be drawing closer, and as he moves, so does the plant he'd been looking at. Whether with a cloud of pollen, a spray of nectar, or the shooting of a sharp burr, Geralt stumbles back a step with a snarl. ]

Shit. Careful.

[ It's as much a self-admonishment as it is a warning. He has no idea what these things are capable of. While he's immune to most known poisons and toxins, that doesn't mean he won't have a really bad time of it anyway if something proves to be particularly concentrated.

The effects of these plants are varied, from a simple but fast-acting aphrodisiac dart to a nerve-stimulating pollen that draws pleasure out of even the simplest touches to a nectar that brings out baser instincts. ]

iii. wildcard

( open to robot fights--with planning!--and options for other plants apart from passionfruit. open to gen for all, smut for characters 21+. if you're going for smut and we haven't discussed it already, please pm or leave a comment here so we can iron things out. )

 

Comments

[decoctions]

[ While the plant's effects are noticeable enough to distract him, Geralt doesn't want to halt their spar over it when he still feels otherwise fine, glad and excited about how easily Diana matches him. He takes a slow, deep breath, blinking hard to focus his vision. He's a witcher; surely this will pass soon enough. ]

Yeah. There's another open space like this near where I've been staying.

[ Geralt goes ahead and grabs his scabbard where it had been discarded on the ground nearby and sheathes his sword. The day is warm and he's already worked up a sweat from their activities so far. ]

[monomachy]

[Diana rolls her shoulders, trying to shake off a restless feeling that starts to crawl through her veins. She's just eager to fight him, she thinks. Dark eyes trace the line of his arm, his back as he reaches for the scabbard. Yes, the more she thinks about it, the more she realizes how much she wants to see just what he can do with whatever power it is he has.

The thought doesn't seem strange. She's always been curious about other people's abilities.

After retrieving her own sheath, she moves to follow him, falling into step close to his side without thinking. The heat between them is probably from their short bout. It must be.]

It isn't too far, is it? I was just starting to get warmed up.

[decoctions]

[ Shaking his head, Geralt is quick to reassure her. ]

Few more minutes this way.

[ He understands her impatience; he doesn't think he can wait long either. There's adrenaline pounding through his body, and coupled with anticipation it makes him restless. ]

That was you just warming up? [ A small, wry smile flickers across his mouth as he glances toward Diana and finds he can't look away again. ] I might be in trouble.

[monomachy]

[The relief that floods her when he says it will only be a few minutes' walk seems... out of place. She must really be restless for a fight. Not unheard of, but it usually doesn't hit her this hard.

Her gaze catches his, and she doesn't break to look anywhere else either. Something about his eyes holds her there. Something about him. Now that her mind has wandered, she has to work to reign it back in. She manages--barely.]

Believe me, you are.

[She's teasing, mostly. But there's an undertone to her voice, something a little darker and more hungry. She doesn't exactly now where it comes from, but she doesn't try to take it back, either.]

[decoctions]

[ He likes the sound of that promise. With it hanging heavy between them, Geralt leads Diana up one block and down the next to another grassy area, this one in front of a row of half dilapidated houses. It's a much smaller area than the park had been, but thankfully absent any strange plants.

By the time they arrive he's almost desperate to start again--anything to get moving, to have an outlet for the adrenaline pounding through him. To get near her. ]

This work?

[ It's clearly good enough for him, as he's already unsheathing his blade again. ]

[monomachy]

[Her control on where her thoughts wander is slipping, and her pace slows just enough to put her a step behind him. Her gaze keeps straying to scan the breadth of his shoulders, to trace the line of his ass and thighs. Assessing his fitness, is what she repeats in her head, and she won't admit it's not entirely the truth.

Diana gives the clearing a cursory glance, but she doesn't really take any part of it in. Her eyes are already back on him, and she's reaching for the hilt of her sword just as he does.]

It's perfect.

[This time, she doesn't let him move first. She dashes towards him, heart pounding in her chest, blade raised to slash across his chest.]

[decoctions]

[ She's perfect. He can barely get out of the way of that slash, which is saying something. He has to jump back with all his speed and agility, and even then only has time to react on instinct when his blade moves in an upward swing back at her.

There is no part of him that is holding back now. He couldn't, not if he wanted to go toe to toe with her for even a few blows. The intensity, somehow, has risen from a simmer to a boil, and Geralt's artificially slow heartbeat is now pounding rapidly in his chest.

He can't see an end to this that doesn't involve him on his back in the grass, but he doesn't care. His body thrums with adrenaline, bright and immediate, a need to show her that he's worthy to--to--

To what? ]

[monomachy]

[Diana can feel the change in him, the shift from testing their limits to giving his all. It's invigorating, almost intoxicating. She can't say yet how much of a match he might be for her if she was using her full strength, but she feels confident about letting go of some of her restraint, too. Her swings come faster, her footwork more swiftly. He's a master of this art, there's no doubt about it, and the rush she feels from acknowledging it makes her feel heady. And distracted.

His sword nicks her shirt as she spins away, slicing through the fabric as if it's the finest gauze. Diana puts enough distance between then so she can glance down at the hole, a smile spreading over her lips, both elated and almost savage.

The bottom half of the shirt rips easily as she tears it away, not wanting to give him anything to grab on to (she tells herself), before lunging forward once more. This time, her attacks are more precise, quick slices instead of broad swings, as if she's trying to return the favor.]