[ With all that's happened, including his abrupt trip to the Singularity's crater some weeks ago, Geralt has had few opportunities to indulge in the Horizon's peculiarities. It's not something he does often in the first place, but sometimes he prefers clearing his head in there than out in the overcrowded city that is Cadens.
This time, he leaves Roach in her stall. Instead, he brings out the motorbike that Nadine gifted him many months ago. Riding it no longer feels as out of place as it once did, and it remains a mindless pastime that lets him think. Besides, it isn't a bad way to examine the state of the Horizon. The spaces that rise and fall as folk come and go.
Speaking of. There is one person Geralt's meant to look in on and hasn't been able to. Not that he's especially concerned; Yennefer would tell him if anything serious were to happen to someone in Thorne. Still, it isn't the boy's safety he's thinking of at the moment. The little trip they all took the island...Geralt had chosen not to go, and he wonders what Wilhelm had decided for himself.
He doesn't know where Wilhelm actually resides. It's Istredd that he looks for—to ask where he might find the boy. While he rides there, though, he spots another vehicle on the nonexistent road that builds in front of him as he travels. He draws closer, recognizing the figure inside.
Hm. That's coincidental.
It's much too loud for anything he says to be heard, so he simply pulls up beside the car. ]
[Wilhelm slips into the Horizon for three things: to visit friends from other factions, to listen to the music he misses having on hand, and to joyride in his Ferrari. It's a sleek machine in slick black, low to the ground and open on top. As he roars down a road of his own making, ripping through turns as fast as physics allows, an electronic beat pumps out of the speakers. In this moment, at least, he feels cool as hell.
He's not expecting to see a motorcycle up ahead, or the two roads to curve and merge into one. When the other motorist comes up alongside him, he recognizes Geralt's silver hair and broad build. Easing off the gas pedal so that Geralt has an easier time of shadowing him, Wilhelm gives him a wave and a puzzled look.]
[ This is not the first time he's crossed paths (or roads, as it were) with another in a vehicle, but it remains a rare enough incident that it comes unexpected. He's usually one of the few wandering the Horizon's circumference. Most simply go from one plot of land to the next.
There's no point in trying to talk like this. Instead, Geralt nods towards a distant point—a vague invitation—and pulls ahead again, swerving to a stop on the side of the road in front. Manifested from stone and dirt, it isn't quite the smooth asphalt Wilhelm is probably familiar with.
There, he waits. Where an empty space should sit, birds chirp in the distance. A cool breeze filters through the air—the sounds of the forest following him where he goes. ]
[Following Geralt's wordless invitation, Wilhelm pulls over and rolls to a stop, gravel crunching under the tires. He kills the engine and the music cuts off with it. A quietness fills in. As he walks up to Geralt, he passes a hand through his windswept hair.]
Cool bike.
[He nods in its direction. It just feels like something he should say. And it is cool — he thinks Geralt would have to try to look uncool, though. Wilhelm crosses his arms, shifting on his feet.]
Um...did you need something from me?
[He can't imagine what it could possibly be, but Geralt doesn't seem like the kind of guy who stops you just to say hello.]
[ It's not necessarily how he meant to speak to the boy, but he supposes it'll do. He leans back against the bike, feet crossed at the ankles. ]
I thought I'd see how you were. It's been some months.
[ A while, really. He and Wilhelm were not necessarily close; he'd taken an interest in the boy down in that dark cavern, then on the mountains—mostly concerned with keeping him in one piece. But once he was returned to Thorne, he assumed Wilhelm had people of his own. Who knew him better.
But, aside from assuring Dean he'd check in on the boy, he has his own...concerns. So here he is. ]
[How is he? He tilts his head as if weighing out an answer.
There are two kinds of drives that he takes around the Horizon. The first is a meditation: the thrumming engine and booming music serve as a backdrop against which to lay out his thoughts. In his solitude, the memory of his brother, a presence in the passenger seat, keeps him company. The second is an escape: he pretends that by goading the gas pedal, he can somehow fly out of himself and leave all thought behind. Sometimes the drive starts as one kind and ends as another.
All of this is to say, Wilhelm has had a lot on his mind lately.]
I'm all right. [The tight shrug is surely convincing. He chews on his lip, looks more at the bike than at Geralt. Almost like it's an afterthought, although it definitely isn't, he adds:] I went back.
[To the island. The pit. The place that connects them.]
Wilhelm may have noticed the absence of a certain Witcher, though Ciri had chosen to return. Geralt had left her in Yennefer's hands. And, to a degree, Istredd's. He hasn't asked her much about it afterwards. She would tell him if there was more to say, but the truth is, he doesn't think there is.
From the bodies he saw in Nocwich, it's nothing he'd have not expected. ]
[It was a difficult trip. Not physically — they had tents and food and ample supplies. After scrabbling to survive down there, nothing else can really be called roughing it. But in other ways... It was a little bit like ripping open a wound that never healed right and letting the infection drain. Painful, but ultimately for the best.]
It felt pretty good to watch it burn. [Idly, he kicks the gravel at the edge of the road.] Ciri let me use one of the flamethrowers the Free Cities group brought.
[ His lips tilt faintly. ] Is that what they decided on?
[ Machines that spew fire? He supposes it's in line with the Free Cities' tendencies. It's for the best, that the land has been scorched barren. Some things should not persist, and that place, he thinks, is one of them. What is there to preserve? The rot? The monsters that roamed the darkness? ]
I can't say I'm sorry to hear it's gone.
[ Nor can he say he's sorry he missed it. He's watched enough things burn. ]
There's nothing there worth missing. Or worth saving.
[That island belongs to the past, not the future. It's not like that by razing it, they can erase what happened there. They can't uproot the memories of it. But when Wilhelm left, stepping through the portal without a backward glance, he felt a sense of finality that had been missing for the past year. It was an end, which meant it was a beginning too — he wants to keep moving forward.]
Seemed like just about everyone agreed this time.
[Unlike when they had the opportunity to execute the remaining cultists.]
Mm. [ His expression is contemplative. So they had.
Something in Wilhelm's tone makes him ask, ] You wanted the acolytes executed?
[ He seldom participates in this sort of bullshit. It's little more than bureaucracy for the sake of it; he's not convinced the kingdoms will grant them any true concessions when it comes down to it. They're being appeased, nothing more.
But he did cast in his two coppers where the acolytes were concerned. He can't begrudge the others for choosing mercy. Josselyn is dead, and she will not rise again. That's what matters. ]
[His nod is decisive. He never thought he could hate someone so much that he would wish them dead, but...he had never endured anything like the suffering Josselyn and her acolytes inflicted. Besides, it's bigger than his anger and aching. It's a matter of practicality.]
It doesn't sit right with me that they're still...around. [He gnaws on his thumbnail.] I know they're in prison, but what if they got out somehow?
[ He gets it. He won't claim he doesn't share the same desire. He's simply learnt to move on where he must, and this is one of those times. ]
Then there will be plenty of us who'll make them answer for it. [ Besides, there may be a third option, one he's contemplated but never proposed. He had other things on his mind, and it's not as though he attends the meetings with the Summoned. He's usually far away from those.
But since Wilhelm is speaking to him now: ] Has Thorne ever had a precedent of stripping someone of their magic?
[Wilhelm hopes that Geralt is right — that this time, the Summoned could stop them before they cause more harm. He knows that there's at least one person — one archangel — who would do everything in his power to make sure the acolytes don't lay a finger on him again. As for Geralt's question...he racks his brains for a moment, shuffling a hand through his hair.]
Not that I know of. I could ask Istredd or Kyle, see if they've heard about anything like that.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
january; horizon.
This time, he leaves Roach in her stall. Instead, he brings out the motorbike that Nadine gifted him many months ago. Riding it no longer feels as out of place as it once did, and it remains a mindless pastime that lets him think. Besides, it isn't a bad way to examine the state of the Horizon. The spaces that rise and fall as folk come and go.
Speaking of. There is one person Geralt's meant to look in on and hasn't been able to. Not that he's especially concerned; Yennefer would tell him if anything serious were to happen to someone in Thorne. Still, it isn't the boy's safety he's thinking of at the moment. The little trip they all took the island...Geralt had chosen not to go, and he wonders what Wilhelm had decided for himself.
He doesn't know where Wilhelm actually resides. It's Istredd that he looks for—to ask where he might find the boy. While he rides there, though, he spots another vehicle on the nonexistent road that builds in front of him as he travels. He draws closer, recognizing the figure inside.
Hm. That's coincidental.
It's much too loud for anything he says to be heard, so he simply pulls up beside the car. ]
no subject
He's not expecting to see a motorcycle up ahead, or the two roads to curve and merge into one. When the other motorist comes up alongside him, he recognizes Geralt's silver hair and broad build. Easing off the gas pedal so that Geralt has an easier time of shadowing him, Wilhelm gives him a wave and a puzzled look.]
no subject
There's no point in trying to talk like this. Instead, Geralt nods towards a distant point—a vague invitation—and pulls ahead again, swerving to a stop on the side of the road in front. Manifested from stone and dirt, it isn't quite the smooth asphalt Wilhelm is probably familiar with.
There, he waits. Where an empty space should sit, birds chirp in the distance. A cool breeze filters through the air—the sounds of the forest following him where he goes. ]
no subject
Cool bike.
[He nods in its direction. It just feels like something he should say. And it is cool — he thinks Geralt would have to try to look uncool, though. Wilhelm crosses his arms, shifting on his feet.]
Um...did you need something from me?
[He can't imagine what it could possibly be, but Geralt doesn't seem like the kind of guy who stops you just to say hello.]
no subject
I thought I'd see how you were. It's been some months.
[ A while, really. He and Wilhelm were not necessarily close; he'd taken an interest in the boy down in that dark cavern, then on the mountains—mostly concerned with keeping him in one piece. But once he was returned to Thorne, he assumed Wilhelm had people of his own. Who knew him better.
But, aside from assuring Dean he'd check in on the boy, he has his own...concerns. So here he is. ]
no subject
There are two kinds of drives that he takes around the Horizon. The first is a meditation: the thrumming engine and booming music serve as a backdrop against which to lay out his thoughts. In his solitude, the memory of his brother, a presence in the passenger seat, keeps him company. The second is an escape: he pretends that by goading the gas pedal, he can somehow fly out of himself and leave all thought behind. Sometimes the drive starts as one kind and ends as another.
All of this is to say, Wilhelm has had a lot on his mind lately.]
I'm all right. [The tight shrug is surely convincing. He chews on his lip, looks more at the bike than at Geralt. Almost like it's an afterthought, although it definitely isn't, he adds:] I went back.
[To the island. The pit. The place that connects them.]
no subject
Wilhelm may have noticed the absence of a certain Witcher, though Ciri had chosen to return. Geralt had left her in Yennefer's hands. And, to a degree, Istredd's. He hasn't asked her much about it afterwards. She would tell him if there was more to say, but the truth is, he doesn't think there is.
From the bodies he saw in Nocwich, it's nothing he'd have not expected. ]
Did you find your answers?
no subject
[It was a difficult trip. Not physically — they had tents and food and ample supplies. After scrabbling to survive down there, nothing else can really be called roughing it. But in other ways... It was a little bit like ripping open a wound that never healed right and letting the infection drain. Painful, but ultimately for the best.]
It felt pretty good to watch it burn. [Idly, he kicks the gravel at the edge of the road.] Ciri let me use one of the flamethrowers the Free Cities group brought.
no subject
[ Machines that spew fire? He supposes it's in line with the Free Cities' tendencies. It's for the best, that the land has been scorched barren. Some things should not persist, and that place, he thinks, is one of them. What is there to preserve? The rot? The monsters that roamed the darkness? ]
I can't say I'm sorry to hear it's gone.
[ Nor can he say he's sorry he missed it. He's watched enough things burn. ]
no subject
There's nothing there worth missing. Or worth saving.
[That island belongs to the past, not the future. It's not like that by razing it, they can erase what happened there. They can't uproot the memories of it. But when Wilhelm left, stepping through the portal without a backward glance, he felt a sense of finality that had been missing for the past year. It was an end, which meant it was a beginning too — he wants to keep moving forward.]
Seemed like just about everyone agreed this time.
[Unlike when they had the opportunity to execute the remaining cultists.]
no subject
Something in Wilhelm's tone makes him ask, ] You wanted the acolytes executed?
[ He seldom participates in this sort of bullshit. It's little more than bureaucracy for the sake of it; he's not convinced the kingdoms will grant them any true concessions when it comes down to it. They're being appeased, nothing more.
But he did cast in his two coppers where the acolytes were concerned. He can't begrudge the others for choosing mercy. Josselyn is dead, and she will not rise again. That's what matters. ]
no subject
It doesn't sit right with me that they're still...around. [He gnaws on his thumbnail.] I know they're in prison, but what if they got out somehow?
no subject
Then there will be plenty of us who'll make them answer for it. [ Besides, there may be a third option, one he's contemplated but never proposed. He had other things on his mind, and it's not as though he attends the meetings with the Summoned. He's usually far away from those.
But since Wilhelm is speaking to him now: ] Has Thorne ever had a precedent of stripping someone of their magic?
no subject
Not that I know of. I could ask Istredd or Kyle, see if they've heard about anything like that.