[ 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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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.
no subject
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. ]
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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?
no subject
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. ]