(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

1, up to you if their tdm thread went to a face-to-face meetup or not!

[pawper]

[Once upon a time, and not so very long ago at that, her unthinking reply to such a blunt question would've been something like: "Well, yeah." But that was then and this is now, where despite being soaked through and looking like a half-starved drowned rat, Lys just looks up in surprise from the simplistic rain catchment system she's managed to rig up from scavenged materials—makeshift tarps stretched just tightly enough, water filtering through the cloth to collect in buckets below.]

Eh? No, just— [Whatever was supposed to come next is interrupted by a full-body shiver. Then another one, and another. Maybe she overestimated how effective her guild uniform was at offering protection from rain as well as cold, after all.] ....you're sure?

i'd say this is their first face-to-face meeting!

[decoctions]

[ She does look pretty miserable out here, though she's got the right idea with her water collection system. Still, Geralt isn't trying to be out here any longer than he has to be. He's not wearing his armor because wearing leather and metal in rain like this is the quickest way to fuck it up, but that also means he's getting absolutely soaked. He shields his eyes against the water with one hand, and the catlike pupils expand so that he can see her face clearly in the storm-dark twilight. ]

Yeah. Wouldn't have offered if I wasn't.

[ Gruff, impatient, but sincere. He's already beginning to turn back in the direction of his camp; the light of the fire can be seen through the doorless entryway leading into the half-collapsed building that had once been a house. ]

This way. Bring the water.

[pawper]

[It's a thin face, pale and rainswept, with dark hollows under the bright blue eyes, but young and expressive enough to broadcast the surprise still writ large across her face.

It's something about the decided way he turns back toward his camp, the determined set of his shoulders and the gruff edge to his voice, that quells whatever protests or prevarications she'd normally fall back on. Maybe it reminds her of someone; maybe that's not important right now. Pausing just long enough for another clap of thunder to shake the sky, she shakes the wet hair from her vision and grabs the two buckets already filled more or less to the brim.]

Ah⁠— okay, I've got 'em.

[Holding them close in her arms instead of by the handle, she follows behind, careful not to outpace him or get in the way.]

[decoctions]

[ Geralt hefts his own bucket, making to slow his pace so that she can follow him with hers. But he finds quickly that there's no need. She keeps up, and when he glances back at her, he can see now what he hadn't been able to while she was crouching. She's thin, but her arms are corded with lean muscle, and she's much taller than he'd initially calculated--taller than him, even, he notes with surprise.

They're both soaked by the time they make it back to his camp, but he'd expected as much when he went out. Just hadn't expected to be returning with company. Past the doorless threshold is what had been the main room of the house. The roof is half collapsed, but other side holds strong, which is where he's built his fire, and where Roach stands in the corner, her tack and gear along the wall nearby. Geralt delivers his presents to her before anything else, emptying a satchel of wet greens in front of her, then filling up his own waterskin before he sets the bucket by her as well. He pulls her saddle blanket up to her withers and pats her neck idly as he turns to his guest. ]

You can put those down anywhere. [ Despite the rumbling quality of his voice, Geralt doesn't speak loudly, or with any particular authority. ] Got plenty of fuel for the fire, so it should be warm enough in here tonight. More blankets, too.

[pawper]

[Stepping inside the protective overhang of what remains of the roof, she waits to see if he'll say anything else — and seems vaguely gratified when he does, obediently (and carefully) putting the buckets down where they won't be accidentally knocked over during a moment of inattention. Her gaze lingers on Roach, though, unsubtle and too-direct, the corners of her mouth twitching in an hesitant smile as she keeps her distance. While a rare thing, domesticated animals occasionally spooked if she got too close; instincts rising up and lashing out because of something they smelled, or perhaps only sensed.]

You managed to find all of this? That's really impressive.

[Gaze flickering from him to Roach and back again, she takes a seat by the fire, not yet moving to take off her soaked, dripping-wet outer layers.]

Sorry, that I didn't have another tarp. At least, not one big enough one to maybe cover up part of the roof, block out the wind...

[decoctions]

[ If Lys does decide to edge nearer to Roach, she won't spook easily. She belongs to a witcher, and is far more accustomed than most animals to the presence and the scent of not only werewolves, but most of the creatures Geralt encounters on a regular basis. Geralt, for his part, notices her attention lingering on Roach--can't help but notice, really--but doesn't think much of it. Maybe she's just fond of horses. He wouldn't blame her; he likes Roach far more than he likes most people. ]

Found some, had some already, got some from the robots at the hospital. [ He undoes the ties of his gambeson with practiced motions, then drops the sodden garment beside the fire to dry. The much thinner linen shirt he wears under it is wet all through as well, but he doesn't move to take it off. ]

It's fine. [ He dismisses her apology without fanfare. ] Bed's in the back room. [ There is a mostly-intact door leading from this room into another, one where the roof hasn't caved in. Most of his belongings are there, along with the singular piece of furniture he'd been able to procure from the robots. ] It'd fill with smoke pretty quickly, so no fire. But it's mostly dry.

[ He has a seat after she does, far enough away that someone else could easily sit between them, but companionable enough. ]

You can sleep there or here. Up to you.

[pawper]

[It takes a long minute or three, but once Lys realizes that Roach isn't going to start whinnying or thrashing around in blind animal panic, she seems to relax—shoulders dropping with a soft sigh, tension slowly fading. Once Geralt's finished stripping off whatever he so chooses, she pulls her own shawl up and over her head, then unclasps the capelet hanging wetly from her shoulders, laying out both next to the fire. Close, but not too close, wisps of steam immediately unfurling from the sodden fabric.

After a moment, she unbuttons the next layer of her outfit as well, shrugging off the knee-length garment and setting it aside with the rest. Meant for cold weather, it's kept the worst of the rain from soaking through her own tunic and pants.]

Here's fine. Warming up by a fire....it's just like being back home. Nostalgic, you know? [Ruffling both hands through her hair to shake off excess water, she doesn't mention that from here, it's a relatively straight shot from the fire to the downpour outside. Just in case.] Thanks, though. It's nice of you to let me stay at all.

[Pulling out her canteen, she takes a light sip, then glances sideways at Geralt and offers it to him.]

What's, um, what's your horse's name?

[decoctions]

[ That's the sort of relatable comment that makes Geralt focus more directly on her. It is like being back home, which begs the question of whether their homes are much alike. But of course, the experience of sitting around a fire getting warm is probably pretty universal. Rather than pressing, he merely hums his agreement. ]

Yeah. Spend most of my nights this way back home.

[ He accepts both her thanks and her canteen with a nod, drinking just enough to wet his throat before passing it back. It doesn't do anything for the raspy quality of his voice. ]

That's Roach. She came here with me. [ Apparently. ] She's friendly, if you want to say hi.