something in the back of steve's mind tells him to run. to not show up. to stay in whatever limbo place he's in right now in the corner of his apartment because the idea of moving, even into some kind of hallucination space, feels too heavy a weight.
but he also doesn't geralt to show up and steve isn't there. the idea of getting a message asking where he is-
he blinks, and he's standing on the side of the highway - the same winding road that he grew up on, learned to drive on, that takes him through the forests right outside of town and if he followed it further along, scoops ahoy should be...
steve sits, right there on the side of the road. it's weird, how he just doesn't have the energy, how the thought of just standing there feels too much. he'd wanted the horizon to make this easier, to feel lighter than this, but instead it feels a bit more in the opposite.
he hears geralt's footsteps, feels him come to a stop and pause before joining him on the side of the road. the grass is damp, thick with dew from the fog, and steve feels it start to seep through his jeans. his sweatshirt. it clings to him and presses.
geralt's voice is what pulls him out of it, finally turning to look at the other man. he's not crying anymore, doesn't know if he has it in him to try, but something in his eyes is...not knowing, exactly, but not surprised. I spoke to him he says, and steve's chest clenches. ]
What'd he say?
[ that voice from earlier offers answers before geralt does, mocking and sharp and painful. steve fucked up or he let me die or this never should have happened, I shouldn't have brought him. there's a part of steve that knows none of it is true, and even if nero's words had leaned in that direction, he doubts geralt would tell him.
after another second, steve's eyes go down to his hands. ]
Yeah. Eddie's- [ steve's throat feels suddenly tight, flashes of his fight with Eddie before this all happened popping up and then fading. how eddie had been there, when he'd stumbled back home, covered in nero's blood. he takes a breath, and feels it shake as it leaves him. ] Yeah.
[ Now that the question is out there, Geralt finds he hasn't got an answer. He knows what Nero said. He remembers, sees it a bit too clearly scrawled across his vision, practically heard it in his fucking voice, but he doesn't know what he's to tell Steve. He rarely grieves in company. He prefers to do it alone, surrounded by no one, and he finds having Steve here is...difficult. It's different to feel the weight of the loss himself and also bear another's.
It isn't Steve's fault. ]
He said you did good. [ Whether Steve will believe it is another matter. He thinks it's important to hear regardless. ] And not to blame yourself.
[ For a long moment, he says nothing else. A silent mist curls from behind the thicket of trees. The Horizon is often quiet. It's why he comes here to escape the bustling crowd of Cadens. The solitude is usually a comfort. For the first time, the isolated landscape is almost lonely. He misses him. He carries a number of tokens from Nero, and he has not looked at any of them since he received Nero's last words.
He glances over. ] I won't tell you not to hold yourself responsible. Each time, you ask if you could've done more. [ Moved faster, made a different choice, said something else. It's what it is. The questions never stop. ] But you should try to forgive yourself.
[ It's as Nero said. The guilt will consume you to your core, and leave nothing behind. And what would that accomplish, in the end? ]
[ steve, upon asking, immediately regrets asking at all. he is so hungry for the concept that maybe this isn't happening, that maybe nero isn't gone, and his chest tightens around the very idea of it. any mention of nero saying anything, of nero doing anything, feels like it could be a clue that would turn this all around. what did he say he asks, because he does want to know, wants to hear if there's some kind of hidden message, something nero would tell geralt about where he's hiding, what backup plan he's made, where-
but also, he knows. he knows how wrong he is. does he want to know nero's last words to geralt? because he'd gotten some of them himself, nero's last speech, his last words, his-
fuck. fuck. steve starts trembling slightly, unable to stop it, unable to keep his cool. geralt speaks after a moment, and steve doesn't know if there had been a pause or if the answer had come immediately after the question or-
he said you did good. and not to blame yourself.
the snort that rips free of steve is harsh, angry, short but definitive. it also brings out a burning behind steve's eyes, one that has him shutting them, holding them shut in an attempt not to embarrass himself further. he shouldn't have asked, really, because he knows it's not true. whatever nero wants to say, wanted to say, it's- it's not true.
if steve had done good, none of this would be happening, now, would it?
he clenches his hands into fists, holds himself so tight it hurts. then holds it for a second or two longer as he focuses on the silence in the air around him. if this were actually hawkins, a car would have driven by by now. someone probably would have stopped, seeing two people sitting in the grass beside the road, wondering if they're okay. but this isn't hawkins, there isn't anyone who is going to stop, and steve- steve hates it, in a way. misses home more than he has in over a year. misses it like a hole, driven solidly through his chest.
( but what does he have waiting for him there? )
there are a few seconds here where geralt doesn't say anything else, and where steve's entire focus is on keeping himself from crying. just- holding it back as much as he can. he breathes quickly at first, holding his eyes closed, refusing- refusing to be this pathetic. it takes a few more seconds before it evens back out, before he takes a breath and doesn't feel it rattle in his chest.
he doesn't see geralt look over to him, but he feels it, just as he feels the cool dampness of the grass under him.
you should try to forgive yourself.
steve is quiet for another moment, and then another more. when he finally relaxes, when he finally opens his eyes, they're red. his head hurts. he watches as his fists unclench, slowly. ] Sure. [ he shakes his head. ] Sorry, yeah. I'll. Try.
[ he won't - or at the very least, won't yet. but part of him thinks geralt knows that too. ]
Has- [ steve stops, swallows, then looks over to geralt through his hair. ] Has this happened before? One of us... summoned or whatever. [ steve doesn't really think much about the question before asking it, the words slipping out of him before he has time to think. ] Has anyone actually died?
[ Yeah. Bitterness is an old friend. Pain is personal. He can't tell Steve how to feel. But he thinks, with enough time and distance, Steve will eventually find the words a comfort.
He pauses. It's a difficult question. When they escaped Thorne, they'd lost people along the way. Their return from the tunnels was the same. He doesn't know what the difference is: death in the caves, disappearances through the portals. But Nero—a visible, bloody death. He supposes that's not occurred before. Not...permanently. ]
It was Dean. [ His voice is quiet. ] When we returned from the mountains, they told me he was taken by a leviathan. Then weeks later—he came back wrong. I thought I'd have to put him down. I nearly did.
[ This is the first time he's spoken of it to anyone. Not every return is a blessing. He's glad Dean is all right, he does not regret that they saved him, but nor is he blind to how much happenstance saving him involved. The Mark. His blood. Ciri's blood. The fucking angel.
Steve's eyes are red-rimmed, and something catches inside Geralt's chest. He turns, not quite reaching for Steve but close enough side by side that their shoulders brush. There's more silence, more empty air, before he speaks again. ]
Would you like to see his domain? [ When Rinwell vanished, Geralt had retrieved one of her owls. It helped. Perhaps Steve will find a keepsake of his own, something to preserve in a place where all traces of him might otherwise vanish. Only a few hours have passed. It should still be standing. ]
[ he will, in time. maybe. hopefully. steve's not really experienced where all this is concerned - he's been around death, watched death happen, lived through the aftermath of what is left behind. but he's always had just enough distance - a grandmother he didn't really know, his girlfriend's best friend, a guy who'd been dating the byers' mom, even hopper had felt... not real, in some weird way. eddie would have been the closest, Eddie would have hurt more, if moments after finding out about his death steve hadn't been pulled through the pond and seen the other boy alive and well.
this... he doesn't know if it's better, or worse, that he was there. that he knows his part in it played a role. as much as he tries, he can't pull himself from the spiral - that he's glad he was there because then nero wasn't alone, that he hates himself for being there because anyone else might have actually saved him. might have done something that would have helped.
still - it doesn't change things, and perhaps with time steve will be able to think about it without feeling like his chest is collapsing in on itself. for now, he just tries to breathe, tries calm down. he asks geralt not because he thinks it'll change anything, necessarily, but instead to hopefully feel like he wasn't the first person to ruin someone else's life while here in abraxas.
but geralt's answer doesn't... help. not in the way steve was hoping. instead, it pulls his attention - from nero, from death - towards the larger man, brow furrowed in confusion. ] Dean? [ dean has been... well, he supposes he has geralt to thank for whatever it is dean has been. after the destruction of steve's basement, dean has turned into someone that steve has turned to, gone to, not unlike geralt himself but... different.
dean felt familiar, and while steve doesn't want to say normal, he also kind of does. but hearing that he's died, here, and that it's something steve hadn't even thought possible...
wrong. steve frowns. ] What do you mean wrong? What happened?
[ he knows that geralt doesn't have to tell him, knows that there's as much of a chance geralt won't that he will. but steve feels himself cling onto this piece of information, cling on to this potential story, a lot more than geralt probably intended. he won't give words to the thoughts, not yet, but if dean came back then-
no. no, he's focused on this right now. on a dean winchester who apparently died, who came back wrong, who geralt almost had to kill and. yeah. that.
geralt shifts, brushes their shoulders together, and something in steve's chest unfurls. there is a part of him that's terrified that in the relaxing, he'll just fall apart. that every wall he's been holding together with glue and prayers will just crumple, just like he feels like doing, and that will be that. but it doesn't- at least right now it doesn't.
steve turns to look at geralt when he speaks, at first confused, but then realization settling in moments after. oh- steve didn't even think about that. didn't realize that domains could linger. he thinks for a moment if it's something he can even handle before he nods. pushes to his feet. ]
[ Geralt had not thought it possible, either, until it happened. He shakes his head. He isn't sure why he chose to address it now. Perhaps he's been thinking about it. Death. Two of the people closest to him. He had spoken to Nero about it. When he realized (believed) Dean was dead, he'd found Nero and said that Dean was gone. He wonders if he should tell Dean now of the same. They didn't know each other well, but that isn't what it's about. ]
A dark force corrupted him. He carried a mark into Abraxas from his world. When he died, it both saved and consumed him. He hurt Ciri. [ A simplified version of the shit that transpired over those months. ] We burnt it out of him, but... [ He hesitates. ] For a time, I felt as though I'd allowed each of them to be in harm's way. That I should've done more.
[ He leaves the tale there, unsatisfying as it may be. Geralt rises to his feet with Steve. They walk. Nero's domain isn't far; as they draw near, he can see the looming spires of a foreboding tower and a starkly out of place vehicle parked beneath it. The red phone booth. Is that massive cat still there? Or has it been the first to vanish, unsustainable in the face of its creator's absence?
He stops at the entrance. It's quiet. No sounds of skittering claws or shrieking beasts.
Unlike how it'd been with Rinwell, Geralt is not compelled to take a memento. Nero gave him his brother's sword. That serves as memory enough. Perhaps Steve might find something he wants, though, inside that ridiculous van filled with junk and the stench of tobacco. ]
I used to send him monsters to fight. He liked the challenge. Said there wasn't much to kill in Solvunn.
[ it's a lot of information for Steve to process at once - a corrupted mark, dean's death, the fact he's back, that he hurt Geralt's daughter, that they had to burn it out of him like some kind of... he doesn't even know. monster? creature? he doesn't know that he actually processes most of it, doesn't know if he really understands what geralt is saying, but he nods like he does.
that I should have done more.
Steve understands the feeling. has been holding it close to his chest since Nero's death. it's an hold friend at this point, that guilt, that pressure. Steve is quiet for a few moments after, trying to find his way through the feeling, the weight.
they both stand and start walking, making their way to Nero's domain. Steve doesn't know it well, having spent most of his time with Nero in person, in solvunn or abraxas or whatever you wanted to call it all. but he has seen it at least once before, recognizes the spires and the rv, the phone booth. he wonders about shadow, too, but not for long - assuming she's gone just like Nero is.
everything is so quiet, so still. it feels wrong to be here without any noise, either music or sounds of monsters, of life. but instead there is nothing. Steve comes to a stop once they're there, probably a hundred paces or so from where the rv is still parked. there doesn't seem to be any reason for Steve to have stopped, other than it feels a bit like he needs to prepare himself for this.
it's ironic, really. geralt saying things like Nero claiming there wasn't much to kill in solvunn, knowing that Nero had been killed by those same things. a thing. some kind of god. Steve looks around the domain like there might be another clue hidden there, maybe Nero himself, preparing to jump out like it is all some kind of prank. but even as Steve thinks it, he can feel how hallow the thought, the wish, is.
it's exhausting, he's exhausted, but he can't stop now. ]
This is all gonna disappear, isn't it? Now that he's gone.
[ He stays near Steve, but gives the young man some room, lingering by the old telephone box that stands by the grounds. He didn't visit Nero's place often; Nero was often in the vehicle or trekked to Kaer Morhen to find him instead. In truth, this domain never really felt like Nero's. He suspected Nero built it just to build something...but that, like any hunter, Nero was not particularly attached to a place.
But there are echoes here nonetheless. It hurts. It's an old pain, too. He is no longer capable of remembering what it was like the first time, when it was fresh and new and he didn't understand how sharp the ache could be or how long it would last. The way it would rear its head at the most unexpected of times, days or weeks later. Now it's simply...
What he knows.
Words help little, so he says nothing while Steve absorbs his surroundings, only inclines his head in confirmation. Yes. It will. Swallowed up by time like everything else. ]
He'd want you to have something.
[ Or all of it, perhaps. He can imagine Nero scoffing at the idea that any of his dilapidated shit was to be preserved, that the only thing of value he truly owned was his sword and his guns, but...deep down, Nero would appreciate it, too. That Steve might want to keep something. ]
[ steve's eyes wander over the spires, over the land and the horizon and then back to the van. hovering over the van, watching it. it's another few moments later that there's movement from inside, a dark shadow that passes by a couple of the mirrors before slipping out the door. shadow slinks out onto the space in front of the van, stretching once now that she's got the space, and then taking a seat. she considers steve first, then geralt, before her eyes go back to steve.
steve... doesn't really know what to make of it. he looks to geralt first, like geralt would have some sort of answer, some explanation for what's going on. he doesn't get an answer - of course he doesn't - so steve just sort of takes a step. walks over, closer to the van, hesitantly. he half expects shadow to start hissing, to be protective and tell him to piss off to somewhere else.
she doesn't.
still, steve gives her a respectful distance - peeking into the drivers seat of the van, catching little clues, an ash tray, a roll of lipstick. other than the details, the actual van, the drivers and passenger seats, they're about what he expects. an idea forms, rough around the edges but slowly forming.
he'd want you to have something. steve looks up. shadow stood at some point, moved to follow steve where he's walked closer to the front of the van, but she doesn't seem to be concerned. steve smiles at her, hesitantly, then looks to geralt. ]
You think so? [ he asks, uncertain, before the thought solidifies. he looks back to shadow, like she's the one he has to get the okay from now. something in how she looks back at him does it, and steve nods to himself before he is moving, quick, pulling open the drivers' side door and slipping in.
it smells a bit like someone is used to sitting here, something like cigarette smoke and something else. but even so, steve reaches for the keys and turns, waiting for the hum of the engine kicking in. for a moment, a very brief moment, he's back in hawkins in someone's RV, watching eddie hotwire their escape plan out. shadow materializes behind him, content with what he has apparently decided to do. he takes a breath, and then rolls the window down, leaning out to find geralt. ]
[ The magic Nero imbued into his belongings remains: Shadow, the tobacco, the smoke, the sputtering engine. The moment Steve touches it, it will live on through him. That's how this place works, and though he imagines the vehicle, the panther, they'll take on what Steve gives them—it feels like that's how it should be. Not entirely Nero, preserved untouched, but granted new life.
Already, he can see it in the way Steve slides behind the wheel. Nero never drove; the spectre of a woman he called Nico did, and Nero sat in the passenger seat with his invisible escort seemingly unwilling to let him take over. Even when they raced down the nonexistent road of the Horizon, Nero wasn't driving.
Now, the steering wheel relinquishes itself to Steve.
He'd brought Steve here in hopes it would help. It appears to, but more than that, Geralt realizes it is helping him, too. Letting him move on a little easier. Often, his brothers left behind memories and nothing more. A medallion, if they were lucky enough to find it. It's good to know that for once, there's more to hold onto.
He opens the door on the other side. Not two summers ago, he'd have not a clue what to do with a machine like this. These days, it's nearly as familiar as his horse, and he climbs inside with the same ease as he might a carriage.
Then he nods—encouragement for Steve to go ahead. ]
[ there's a low-grade sense of adrenaline pumping through him as geralt walks around to get in on the other side. Steve's been to Nero's horizon before, seen the van before, but he's never actually been inside. most of their time together had been in solvunn, in the actual mud and dirt of the land. horizon visits they kept for their contacts not in solvunn, for meetings they'd take separately.
now, Steve sits behind the wheel and it feels... right? god, it's awful in a lot of ways. his gut clenches aggressively, tightly, and Steve thinks he might be sick - all from the way the steering wheel feels warm. the seat well-worn, settled. like it was waiting for him. like he was supposed to be here, all along.
Steve won't cry, but when geralt settles into the seat next to him, he also can't look at him. instead, Steve reaches for the stick, puts the van in drive, and with a thick swallow and a tight jaw. the moment his foot presses down on the gas, music starts playing - entirely unprompted, unasked. loud, aggressive, and vaguely reminiscent of the stuff Eddie likes to play, but...
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something in the back of steve's mind tells him to run. to not show up. to stay in whatever limbo place he's in right now in the corner of his apartment because the idea of moving, even into some kind of hallucination space, feels too heavy a weight.
but he also doesn't geralt to show up and steve isn't there. the idea of getting a message asking where he is-
he blinks, and he's standing on the side of the highway - the same winding road that he grew up on, learned to drive on, that takes him through the forests right outside of town and if he followed it further along, scoops ahoy should be...
steve sits, right there on the side of the road. it's weird, how he just doesn't have the energy, how the thought of just standing there feels too much. he'd wanted the horizon to make this easier, to feel lighter than this, but instead it feels a bit more in the opposite.
he hears geralt's footsteps, feels him come to a stop and pause before joining him on the side of the road. the grass is damp, thick with dew from the fog, and steve feels it start to seep through his jeans. his sweatshirt. it clings to him and presses.
geralt's voice is what pulls him out of it, finally turning to look at the other man. he's not crying anymore, doesn't know if he has it in him to try, but something in his eyes is...not knowing, exactly, but not surprised. I spoke to him he says, and steve's chest clenches. ]
What'd he say?
[ that voice from earlier offers answers before geralt does, mocking and sharp and painful. steve fucked up or he let me die or this never should have happened, I shouldn't have brought him. there's a part of steve that knows none of it is true, and even if nero's words had leaned in that direction, he doubts geralt would tell him.
after another second, steve's eyes go down to his hands. ]
Yeah. Eddie's- [ steve's throat feels suddenly tight, flashes of his fight with Eddie before this all happened popping up and then fading. how eddie had been there, when he'd stumbled back home, covered in nero's blood. he takes a breath, and feels it shake as it leaves him. ] Yeah.
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It isn't Steve's fault. ]
He said you did good. [ Whether Steve will believe it is another matter. He thinks it's important to hear regardless. ] And not to blame yourself.
[ For a long moment, he says nothing else. A silent mist curls from behind the thicket of trees. The Horizon is often quiet. It's why he comes here to escape the bustling crowd of Cadens. The solitude is usually a comfort. For the first time, the isolated landscape is almost lonely. He misses him. He carries a number of tokens from Nero, and he has not looked at any of them since he received Nero's last words.
He glances over. ] I won't tell you not to hold yourself responsible. Each time, you ask if you could've done more. [ Moved faster, made a different choice, said something else. It's what it is. The questions never stop. ] But you should try to forgive yourself.
[ It's as Nero said. The guilt will consume you to your core, and leave nothing behind. And what would that accomplish, in the end? ]
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but also, he knows. he knows how wrong he is. does he want to know nero's last words to geralt? because he'd gotten some of them himself, nero's last speech, his last words, his-
fuck. fuck. steve starts trembling slightly, unable to stop it, unable to keep his cool. geralt speaks after a moment, and steve doesn't know if there had been a pause or if the answer had come immediately after the question or-
he said you did good. and not to blame yourself.
the snort that rips free of steve is harsh, angry, short but definitive. it also brings out a burning behind steve's eyes, one that has him shutting them, holding them shut in an attempt not to embarrass himself further. he shouldn't have asked, really, because he knows it's not true. whatever nero wants to say, wanted to say, it's- it's not true.
if steve had done good, none of this would be happening, now, would it?
he clenches his hands into fists, holds himself so tight it hurts. then holds it for a second or two longer as he focuses on the silence in the air around him. if this were actually hawkins, a car would have driven by by now. someone probably would have stopped, seeing two people sitting in the grass beside the road, wondering if they're okay. but this isn't hawkins, there isn't anyone who is going to stop, and steve- steve hates it, in a way. misses home more than he has in over a year. misses it like a hole, driven solidly through his chest.
( but what does he have waiting for him there? )
there are a few seconds here where geralt doesn't say anything else, and where steve's entire focus is on keeping himself from crying. just- holding it back as much as he can. he breathes quickly at first, holding his eyes closed, refusing- refusing to be this pathetic. it takes a few more seconds before it evens back out, before he takes a breath and doesn't feel it rattle in his chest.
he doesn't see geralt look over to him, but he feels it, just as he feels the cool dampness of the grass under him.
you should try to forgive yourself.
steve is quiet for another moment, and then another more. when he finally relaxes, when he finally opens his eyes, they're red. his head hurts. he watches as his fists unclench, slowly. ] Sure. [ he shakes his head. ] Sorry, yeah. I'll. Try.
[ he won't - or at the very least, won't yet. but part of him thinks geralt knows that too. ]
Has- [ steve stops, swallows, then looks over to geralt through his hair. ] Has this happened before? One of us... summoned or whatever. [ steve doesn't really think much about the question before asking it, the words slipping out of him before he has time to think. ] Has anyone actually died?
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He pauses. It's a difficult question. When they escaped Thorne, they'd lost people along the way. Their return from the tunnels was the same. He doesn't know what the difference is: death in the caves, disappearances through the portals. But Nero—a visible, bloody death. He supposes that's not occurred before. Not...permanently. ]
It was Dean. [ His voice is quiet. ] When we returned from the mountains, they told me he was taken by a leviathan. Then weeks later—he came back wrong. I thought I'd have to put him down. I nearly did.
[ This is the first time he's spoken of it to anyone. Not every return is a blessing. He's glad Dean is all right, he does not regret that they saved him, but nor is he blind to how much happenstance saving him involved. The Mark. His blood. Ciri's blood. The fucking angel.
Steve's eyes are red-rimmed, and something catches inside Geralt's chest. He turns, not quite reaching for Steve but close enough side by side that their shoulders brush. There's more silence, more empty air, before he speaks again. ]
Would you like to see his domain? [ When Rinwell vanished, Geralt had retrieved one of her owls. It helped. Perhaps Steve will find a keepsake of his own, something to preserve in a place where all traces of him might otherwise vanish. Only a few hours have passed. It should still be standing. ]
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this... he doesn't know if it's better, or worse, that he was there. that he knows his part in it played a role. as much as he tries, he can't pull himself from the spiral - that he's glad he was there because then nero wasn't alone, that he hates himself for being there because anyone else might have actually saved him. might have done something that would have helped.
still - it doesn't change things, and perhaps with time steve will be able to think about it without feeling like his chest is collapsing in on itself. for now, he just tries to breathe, tries calm down. he asks geralt not because he thinks it'll change anything, necessarily, but instead to hopefully feel like he wasn't the first person to ruin someone else's life while here in abraxas.
but geralt's answer doesn't... help. not in the way steve was hoping. instead, it pulls his attention - from nero, from death - towards the larger man, brow furrowed in confusion. ] Dean? [ dean has been... well, he supposes he has geralt to thank for whatever it is dean has been. after the destruction of steve's basement, dean has turned into someone that steve has turned to, gone to, not unlike geralt himself but... different.
dean felt familiar, and while steve doesn't want to say normal, he also kind of does. but hearing that he's died, here, and that it's something steve hadn't even thought possible...
wrong. steve frowns. ] What do you mean wrong? What happened?
[ he knows that geralt doesn't have to tell him, knows that there's as much of a chance geralt won't that he will. but steve feels himself cling onto this piece of information, cling on to this potential story, a lot more than geralt probably intended. he won't give words to the thoughts, not yet, but if dean came back then-
no. no, he's focused on this right now. on a dean winchester who apparently died, who came back wrong, who geralt almost had to kill and. yeah. that.
geralt shifts, brushes their shoulders together, and something in steve's chest unfurls. there is a part of him that's terrified that in the relaxing, he'll just fall apart. that every wall he's been holding together with glue and prayers will just crumple, just like he feels like doing, and that will be that. but it doesn't- at least right now it doesn't.
steve turns to look at geralt when he speaks, at first confused, but then realization settling in moments after. oh- steve didn't even think about that. didn't realize that domains could linger. he thinks for a moment if it's something he can even handle before he nods. pushes to his feet. ]
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A dark force corrupted him. He carried a mark into Abraxas from his world. When he died, it both saved and consumed him. He hurt Ciri. [ A simplified version of the shit that transpired over those months. ] We burnt it out of him, but... [ He hesitates. ] For a time, I felt as though I'd allowed each of them to be in harm's way. That I should've done more.
[ He leaves the tale there, unsatisfying as it may be. Geralt rises to his feet with Steve. They walk. Nero's domain isn't far; as they draw near, he can see the looming spires of a foreboding tower and a starkly out of place vehicle parked beneath it. The red phone booth. Is that massive cat still there? Or has it been the first to vanish, unsustainable in the face of its creator's absence?
He stops at the entrance. It's quiet. No sounds of skittering claws or shrieking beasts.
Unlike how it'd been with Rinwell, Geralt is not compelled to take a memento. Nero gave him his brother's sword. That serves as memory enough. Perhaps Steve might find something he wants, though, inside that ridiculous van filled with junk and the stench of tobacco. ]
I used to send him monsters to fight. He liked the challenge. Said there wasn't much to kill in Solvunn.
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that I should have done more.
Steve understands the feeling. has been holding it close to his chest since Nero's death. it's an hold friend at this point, that guilt, that pressure. Steve is quiet for a few moments after, trying to find his way through the feeling, the weight.
they both stand and start walking, making their way to Nero's domain. Steve doesn't know it well, having spent most of his time with Nero in person, in solvunn or abraxas or whatever you wanted to call it all. but he has seen it at least once before, recognizes the spires and the rv, the phone booth. he wonders about shadow, too, but not for long - assuming she's gone just like Nero is.
everything is so quiet, so still. it feels wrong to be here without any noise, either music or sounds of monsters, of life. but instead there is nothing. Steve comes to a stop once they're there, probably a hundred paces or so from where the rv is still parked. there doesn't seem to be any reason for Steve to have stopped, other than it feels a bit like he needs to prepare himself for this.
it's ironic, really. geralt saying things like Nero claiming there wasn't much to kill in solvunn, knowing that Nero had been killed by those same things. a thing. some kind of god. Steve looks around the domain like there might be another clue hidden there, maybe Nero himself, preparing to jump out like it is all some kind of prank. but even as Steve thinks it, he can feel how hallow the thought, the wish, is.
it's exhausting, he's exhausted, but he can't stop now. ]
This is all gonna disappear, isn't it? Now that he's gone.
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But there are echoes here nonetheless. It hurts. It's an old pain, too. He is no longer capable of remembering what it was like the first time, when it was fresh and new and he didn't understand how sharp the ache could be or how long it would last. The way it would rear its head at the most unexpected of times, days or weeks later. Now it's simply...
What he knows.
Words help little, so he says nothing while Steve absorbs his surroundings, only inclines his head in confirmation. Yes. It will. Swallowed up by time like everything else. ]
He'd want you to have something.
[ Or all of it, perhaps. He can imagine Nero scoffing at the idea that any of his dilapidated shit was to be preserved, that the only thing of value he truly owned was his sword and his guns, but...deep down, Nero would appreciate it, too. That Steve might want to keep something. ]
no subject
steve... doesn't really know what to make of it. he looks to geralt first, like geralt would have some sort of answer, some explanation for what's going on. he doesn't get an answer - of course he doesn't - so steve just sort of takes a step. walks over, closer to the van, hesitantly. he half expects shadow to start hissing, to be protective and tell him to piss off to somewhere else.
she doesn't.
still, steve gives her a respectful distance - peeking into the drivers seat of the van, catching little clues, an ash tray, a roll of lipstick. other than the details, the actual van, the drivers and passenger seats, they're about what he expects. an idea forms, rough around the edges but slowly forming.
he'd want you to have something. steve looks up. shadow stood at some point, moved to follow steve where he's walked closer to the front of the van, but she doesn't seem to be concerned. steve smiles at her, hesitantly, then looks to geralt. ]
You think so? [ he asks, uncertain, before the thought solidifies. he looks back to shadow, like she's the one he has to get the okay from now. something in how she looks back at him does it, and steve nods to himself before he is moving, quick, pulling open the drivers' side door and slipping in.
it smells a bit like someone is used to sitting here, something like cigarette smoke and something else. but even so, steve reaches for the keys and turns, waiting for the hum of the engine kicking in. for a moment, a very brief moment, he's back in hawkins in someone's RV, watching eddie hotwire their escape plan out. shadow materializes behind him, content with what he has apparently decided to do. he takes a breath, and then rolls the window down, leaning out to find geralt. ]
You coming?
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Already, he can see it in the way Steve slides behind the wheel. Nero never drove; the spectre of a woman he called Nico did, and Nero sat in the passenger seat with his invisible escort seemingly unwilling to let him take over. Even when they raced down the nonexistent road of the Horizon, Nero wasn't driving.
Now, the steering wheel relinquishes itself to Steve.
He'd brought Steve here in hopes it would help. It appears to, but more than that, Geralt realizes it is helping him, too. Letting him move on a little easier. Often, his brothers left behind memories and nothing more. A medallion, if they were lucky enough to find it. It's good to know that for once, there's more to hold onto.
He opens the door on the other side. Not two summers ago, he'd have not a clue what to do with a machine like this. These days, it's nearly as familiar as his horse, and he climbs inside with the same ease as he might a carriage.
Then he nods—encouragement for Steve to go ahead. ]
wraps this up with a nice little bow
now, Steve sits behind the wheel and it feels... right? god, it's awful in a lot of ways. his gut clenches aggressively, tightly, and Steve thinks he might be sick - all from the way the steering wheel feels warm. the seat well-worn, settled. like it was waiting for him. like he was supposed to be here, all along.
Steve won't cry, but when geralt settles into the seat next to him, he also can't look at him. instead, Steve reaches for the stick, puts the van in drive, and with a thick swallow and a tight jaw. the moment his foot presses down on the gas, music starts playing - entirely unprompted, unasked. loud, aggressive, and vaguely reminiscent of the stuff Eddie likes to play, but...
no, it's definitely nero's. ]