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strangetrip2018-06-23 10:55 am
st_opsummoningme) wrote in strangetrip2018-06-23 10:55 am
[Log] Illyana & Kitty & Geralt & Hathaway - Iceland is for Shut-Ins - Backdated to 6/23
After collecting their respective shut-ins, Illyana and Kitty strategize how best to enjoy their time in Iceland with Geralt and Hathaway. Their priorities (and sobriety) are somewhat different...
I hate portals, the Witcher had told her earlier.
You took too long in making up your mind to come. Now we have to catch up with them, the sorceress announced with a hint of muted satisfaction, after answering a brief phone call from Kitty. They had collected their standard issue phones, money, and passports, and thus were as good as ready. Geralt had exactly enough time to give Illyana a scowl before she teleported them both from the room at the Inn where the Otherworld junction had spawned to a graveyard in Oxford, England.
Kitty was holding Hathaway's hand as the pair of them appeared through a glowing portal of swirling light rent in the air, standing near to him. Hathaway looked as if he'd had more than enough to drink and that it had done little to soothe his troubles.
"Hathaway," Illyana said after her moment of evaluation, snapping shut the passageway between time and space seamlessly behind herself and Geralt. "Kitty tells me you've consented to being stolen away to Iceland."
Hathaway blinked at Yana and her companion, pinched himself none too surreptitiously, decided he was just drunk enough for this and nodded.
"You ever tried to say no to her?" He inclined his head at Kitty, but of course he hadn't even tried to say no.
"Yana's immune to my charms." Which also wasn't true. Kitty'd have been dead a long time ago if it were. Or at least severely bruised.
She nodded to Geralt. "I see you ran into a similar problem."
Geralt shrugged, one corner of his mouth tugging upward in what might have passed for a hint of a smile. "I learned a long time ago what battles are worth fighting and which aren't."
If one were to scrutinize his reply, as Illyana had, they might find something like good humor in it. Portals and all.
She shared a look with Kitty, a glint in her eyes and the arch of an eyebrow - not much by most standards, but in their shared shorthand facilitated by their Soulbond, it equated with an almost girlish approval. "Did you hear that? He isn't just a pretty face."
"I am," Hathaway quipped. He probably wouldn't have said it except for the scotch. The next was completely deadpan, almost toneless. "Obviously."
Instead of the elbow to the ribs she might have given James if they were on their own, Kitty replied, "Every party of four needs one. You're our dedicated bimbo." And the look she returned to Yana was, well, somewhere along the lines of Get it, girl with a hint of God save me, the poor man for Hathaway. They had a Soulbond. Looks could get complicated.
Geralt tilted his head, considering the concept of 'bimbo'. "As long as you're not getting stuffed into doublets of their choice and objectified, I'd say you're still ahead of the game," he said, very dryly.
Illyana dismissed Kitty's look after a beat and scoffed softly at the banter of the men. "You're better entertainment after a few drinks," she determined of Hathaway's condition and glanced back at Geralt. "And we can do better than doublets. Kitty, would you rather resupply our wardrobes back at the Madonna Inn before we find lodging, or shall we see what the fashions are in Reykjavik?"
He bowed, only a little bit drunkenly, in her direction and didn't speak because she seemed predisposed to not hate him at the moment and that seemed beneficial.
Kitty steadied Hathaway with one hand while she considered Yana's question. "I hate to go back, but the allowance isn't that generous. Grab basics and laundry soap at the Inn and fill out our wardrobe in Reykjavik, I think." And they could put Geralt and Hathaway into more comfortable clothes. (Or in Yana's case, get Geralt out of them.)
"Fair." Illyana eyed the men, either of which might prefer fewer teleportations with their delicate constitutions and/or sensibilities. "Check them into a hotel in Reykjavik," she counter-proposed at Kitty, "grab basics at the Inn. Fill out our wardrobe. Return to see which of them are awake enough and sober enough for our purposes."
"Oh, much better idea." Kitty declined to eye either of the men in the moment, since her purposes and Illyana's were nothing at all alike. Or mostly not. She wouldn't kick Hathaway out of her bed, but... that was a consideration for later when he was sober and she was done shopping. "Maybe we can task them with figuring out where to get our next meal, while we're gone."
“I’m guessing that you don’t mean ‘kill and cook something’,” Geralt said in a deadpan tone. “Unless you do, of course. In which case I can probably manage, even without my sword.”
"I think she means make a reservation, though weaponry might be handy for that." Hathaway was just as deadpan, but also a little conversational. These women communicated with looks, they were at a severe disadvantage that dry wit was only barely going to make a dent in.
At another time, Illyana would have appreciated Hathaway's wit, his wryness made somewhat more blithe for the intoxicated ease of delivery.
But Geralt had gone and offered to kill and cook them something with his bare hands as readily as another would grumble about being sent to buy a loaf of bread, and she turned her attention from Kitty entirely. Blue eyes looked at him from beneath the sharp line of her bangs with a hunger that had nothing to do with whatever would end up on their plates. "I would like very much to see that," she murmured, not bothering to clarify.
Kitty stifled a laugh at Yana's smitten murmur. "Pity Iceland's got all the native fauna of New York City, and probably less." She maneuvered Hathaway closer to Yana in expectation of imminent departure. "You'll have to prove your manhood some other way."
"I like to think that I'm inventive," Geralt said, just as dryly, but there was a spark of something else in his cat-pupiled eyes as he took a step closer to Illyana, correctly interpreting Kitty's redirection of Hathaway. "We'll have to see if that's true," he said, raising an eyebrow at the blonde. Him and sorceresses. Lambert would be laughing himself into a coronary.
Part of Illyana wanted to swat Kitty for her barely smothered laughter, the amusement of which rang out loud and clear across their bond if not audibly. But Illyana had better control than that. And better focus, as she lifted her chin to look up at Geralt where he came closer, her skin warming slightly as her heart beat harder under his unusual amber gaze. It was difficult to gauge how sincere his flirtation might be - and this was neither the time nor place to test it in earnest. (If it had been, she would have been practically tearing at him already.)
She instead collected herself for a relatively composed reply, even as the glowing portal that would carve them all a path between planes to deposit them in Iceland blazed into being, reflected in the gleam of her eyes. "Yes, we will."
I hate portals, the Witcher had told her earlier.
You took too long in making up your mind to come. Now we have to catch up with them, the sorceress announced with a hint of muted satisfaction, after answering a brief phone call from Kitty. They had collected their standard issue phones, money, and passports, and thus were as good as ready. Geralt had exactly enough time to give Illyana a scowl before she teleported them both from the room at the Inn where the Otherworld junction had spawned to a graveyard in Oxford, England.
Kitty was holding Hathaway's hand as the pair of them appeared through a glowing portal of swirling light rent in the air, standing near to him. Hathaway looked as if he'd had more than enough to drink and that it had done little to soothe his troubles.
"Hathaway," Illyana said after her moment of evaluation, snapping shut the passageway between time and space seamlessly behind herself and Geralt. "Kitty tells me you've consented to being stolen away to Iceland."
Hathaway blinked at Yana and her companion, pinched himself none too surreptitiously, decided he was just drunk enough for this and nodded.
"You ever tried to say no to her?" He inclined his head at Kitty, but of course he hadn't even tried to say no.
"Yana's immune to my charms." Which also wasn't true. Kitty'd have been dead a long time ago if it were. Or at least severely bruised.
She nodded to Geralt. "I see you ran into a similar problem."
Geralt shrugged, one corner of his mouth tugging upward in what might have passed for a hint of a smile. "I learned a long time ago what battles are worth fighting and which aren't."
If one were to scrutinize his reply, as Illyana had, they might find something like good humor in it. Portals and all.
She shared a look with Kitty, a glint in her eyes and the arch of an eyebrow - not much by most standards, but in their shared shorthand facilitated by their Soulbond, it equated with an almost girlish approval. "Did you hear that? He isn't just a pretty face."
"I am," Hathaway quipped. He probably wouldn't have said it except for the scotch. The next was completely deadpan, almost toneless. "Obviously."
Instead of the elbow to the ribs she might have given James if they were on their own, Kitty replied, "Every party of four needs one. You're our dedicated bimbo." And the look she returned to Yana was, well, somewhere along the lines of Get it, girl with a hint of God save me, the poor man for Hathaway. They had a Soulbond. Looks could get complicated.
Geralt tilted his head, considering the concept of 'bimbo'. "As long as you're not getting stuffed into doublets of their choice and objectified, I'd say you're still ahead of the game," he said, very dryly.
Illyana dismissed Kitty's look after a beat and scoffed softly at the banter of the men. "You're better entertainment after a few drinks," she determined of Hathaway's condition and glanced back at Geralt. "And we can do better than doublets. Kitty, would you rather resupply our wardrobes back at the Madonna Inn before we find lodging, or shall we see what the fashions are in Reykjavik?"
He bowed, only a little bit drunkenly, in her direction and didn't speak because she seemed predisposed to not hate him at the moment and that seemed beneficial.
Kitty steadied Hathaway with one hand while she considered Yana's question. "I hate to go back, but the allowance isn't that generous. Grab basics and laundry soap at the Inn and fill out our wardrobe in Reykjavik, I think." And they could put Geralt and Hathaway into more comfortable clothes. (Or in Yana's case, get Geralt out of them.)
"Fair." Illyana eyed the men, either of which might prefer fewer teleportations with their delicate constitutions and/or sensibilities. "Check them into a hotel in Reykjavik," she counter-proposed at Kitty, "grab basics at the Inn. Fill out our wardrobe. Return to see which of them are awake enough and sober enough for our purposes."
"Oh, much better idea." Kitty declined to eye either of the men in the moment, since her purposes and Illyana's were nothing at all alike. Or mostly not. She wouldn't kick Hathaway out of her bed, but... that was a consideration for later when he was sober and she was done shopping. "Maybe we can task them with figuring out where to get our next meal, while we're gone."
“I’m guessing that you don’t mean ‘kill and cook something’,” Geralt said in a deadpan tone. “Unless you do, of course. In which case I can probably manage, even without my sword.”
"I think she means make a reservation, though weaponry might be handy for that." Hathaway was just as deadpan, but also a little conversational. These women communicated with looks, they were at a severe disadvantage that dry wit was only barely going to make a dent in.
At another time, Illyana would have appreciated Hathaway's wit, his wryness made somewhat more blithe for the intoxicated ease of delivery.
But Geralt had gone and offered to kill and cook them something with his bare hands as readily as another would grumble about being sent to buy a loaf of bread, and she turned her attention from Kitty entirely. Blue eyes looked at him from beneath the sharp line of her bangs with a hunger that had nothing to do with whatever would end up on their plates. "I would like very much to see that," she murmured, not bothering to clarify.
Kitty stifled a laugh at Yana's smitten murmur. "Pity Iceland's got all the native fauna of New York City, and probably less." She maneuvered Hathaway closer to Yana in expectation of imminent departure. "You'll have to prove your manhood some other way."
"I like to think that I'm inventive," Geralt said, just as dryly, but there was a spark of something else in his cat-pupiled eyes as he took a step closer to Illyana, correctly interpreting Kitty's redirection of Hathaway. "We'll have to see if that's true," he said, raising an eyebrow at the blonde. Him and sorceresses. Lambert would be laughing himself into a coronary.
Part of Illyana wanted to swat Kitty for her barely smothered laughter, the amusement of which rang out loud and clear across their bond if not audibly. But Illyana had better control than that. And better focus, as she lifted her chin to look up at Geralt where he came closer, her skin warming slightly as her heart beat harder under his unusual amber gaze. It was difficult to gauge how sincere his flirtation might be - and this was neither the time nor place to test it in earnest. (If it had been, she would have been practically tearing at him already.)
She instead collected herself for a relatively composed reply, even as the glowing portal that would carve them all a path between planes to deposit them in Iceland blazed into being, reflected in the gleam of her eyes. "Yes, we will."