st_opsummoningme (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
st_opsummoningme) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
strangetrip2018-06-23 09:55 am
st_opsummoningme) wrote in strangetrip2018-06-23 09:55 am
Entry tags:
[Log] Illyana & Geralt - Getting Out of the House - Backdated to 6/23
Illyana follows up on her agreement with Kitty to get their respective shut-ins on a vacation to Iceland with them, and speculates on her like-a-tree-climbing prospects. Geralt chooses the path of least resistance.
For all that Illyana would have criticized that Hathaway had a sadder, sorrier mien about him than Geralt, she could also credit someone where they were due. Hathaway had at least been bold enough to venture through the otherworldly portal that had appeared in place of room number 157, fittingly known as the 'Traveler's Suite.' Once Kitty and Illyana had determined to take their 'two favorite shut-ins' on an excursion to Iceland, Illyana had considered the possibility that she may have to cast a locating spell or even go so far as to attempt to call the cell phone that would have been assigned to Geralt at the Otherworld travel agency in order to find him.
What she discovered, after finding his phone service not yet activated, and determining his position... Was that Geralt did not appear to have left the property of the Inn at all. In fact, at the moment of her scrying, he was within his very own room. Shut-ins. Illyana huffed a sigh before summoning herself a glowing disc of a portal to pass through, stepping in the next moment onto the homely brown carpet surrounded by an affront of faux gold and red and turquoise. "Packing your things for travel, I presume," she said by way of an announcement.
Geralt, who had been sitting cross-legged on his floor, meditating, opened his eyes and raised one eyebrow at the sorceress. "I hate portals," he said, mildly enough. "The thought of traveling through one for anything but an emergency is not all that appealing."
"A whole series of countries unknown to you are at your disposal for a brief while, and yet here I find you, stubbornly sitting as you might choose to do on any other day." Technically, what Illyana gave him could be considered a smile. But the predatory curve of her lips and cross of her arms as she turned to face him were hardly reassuring. "You, Geralt of Rivia, have been branded as a shut-in. Kitty and I would remedy this with a trip abroad. And portals are my specialty."
"You and Kitty, both after me? Bodes not so well." He suppressed a sigh as he rose, frowning at her. "I really don't like portals. Or lands where I don't have at least some sense of what sort of behaviour will or won't get me chased out of town by villagers holding torches."
"No one wields torches and pitchforks anymore. The villagers have been tamed by a number of modern comforts where we're going. Short of open murder, you will be tolerated." Illyana hadn't forgotten how he had said his kind were treated where he had come from. Mutant hatred was hardly limited to one world.
She openly studied the strangeness of his eyes, the scars on his face, weighing what Kitty had suggested. Then she reached up slowly, purposefully, to trace the angry red line over one side of his forehead with curious fingertips. "Find what is left of your courage and come with us, old man."
It had been long enough since anyone had touched him that he actually twitched as she reached up and traced his scar, but managed to limit his reaction to that. "What's left, hmm?" She did have a point. He'd been isolating himself more than he'd really intended to. And having too much time to sit and think was not a happy thing.
Of course she felt the flinch beneath her fingers. Her touch stilled momentarily until it passed, then went back to follow the line once more from the start undeterred. "Do you honestly believe that whatever lies ahead of you would be so much worse than what you would leave behind? Has this place made you too docile to take another risk?"
If all else fails, an internal voice that sounded eerily like Lambert suggested, follow the nearest sorceress around like a lost puppy. The thought provoked a flicker of a humourless smile, and Geralt finally shrugged. "Lead on, I suppose," he said, deliberately not responding to either question.
She stared at Geralt hard, for a moment, as if to try and read his thoughts. Or perhaps seriously considering the merits of a spell that might crack his skull open and reveal certain truths in that way.
Illyana ultimately took her hand away from him and called up a portal. It wasn't necessary just yet, when they could as easily walk to room 157 which contained the Otherworld travel agency, but she took small comfort in the schadenfreude that came with herding him through it now. "Very well. Brace yourself for a vacation."
For all that Illyana would have criticized that Hathaway had a sadder, sorrier mien about him than Geralt, she could also credit someone where they were due. Hathaway had at least been bold enough to venture through the otherworldly portal that had appeared in place of room number 157, fittingly known as the 'Traveler's Suite.' Once Kitty and Illyana had determined to take their 'two favorite shut-ins' on an excursion to Iceland, Illyana had considered the possibility that she may have to cast a locating spell or even go so far as to attempt to call the cell phone that would have been assigned to Geralt at the Otherworld travel agency in order to find him.
What she discovered, after finding his phone service not yet activated, and determining his position... Was that Geralt did not appear to have left the property of the Inn at all. In fact, at the moment of her scrying, he was within his very own room. Shut-ins. Illyana huffed a sigh before summoning herself a glowing disc of a portal to pass through, stepping in the next moment onto the homely brown carpet surrounded by an affront of faux gold and red and turquoise. "Packing your things for travel, I presume," she said by way of an announcement.
Geralt, who had been sitting cross-legged on his floor, meditating, opened his eyes and raised one eyebrow at the sorceress. "I hate portals," he said, mildly enough. "The thought of traveling through one for anything but an emergency is not all that appealing."
"A whole series of countries unknown to you are at your disposal for a brief while, and yet here I find you, stubbornly sitting as you might choose to do on any other day." Technically, what Illyana gave him could be considered a smile. But the predatory curve of her lips and cross of her arms as she turned to face him were hardly reassuring. "You, Geralt of Rivia, have been branded as a shut-in. Kitty and I would remedy this with a trip abroad. And portals are my specialty."
"You and Kitty, both after me? Bodes not so well." He suppressed a sigh as he rose, frowning at her. "I really don't like portals. Or lands where I don't have at least some sense of what sort of behaviour will or won't get me chased out of town by villagers holding torches."
"No one wields torches and pitchforks anymore. The villagers have been tamed by a number of modern comforts where we're going. Short of open murder, you will be tolerated." Illyana hadn't forgotten how he had said his kind were treated where he had come from. Mutant hatred was hardly limited to one world.
She openly studied the strangeness of his eyes, the scars on his face, weighing what Kitty had suggested. Then she reached up slowly, purposefully, to trace the angry red line over one side of his forehead with curious fingertips. "Find what is left of your courage and come with us, old man."
It had been long enough since anyone had touched him that he actually twitched as she reached up and traced his scar, but managed to limit his reaction to that. "What's left, hmm?" She did have a point. He'd been isolating himself more than he'd really intended to. And having too much time to sit and think was not a happy thing.
Of course she felt the flinch beneath her fingers. Her touch stilled momentarily until it passed, then went back to follow the line once more from the start undeterred. "Do you honestly believe that whatever lies ahead of you would be so much worse than what you would leave behind? Has this place made you too docile to take another risk?"
If all else fails, an internal voice that sounded eerily like Lambert suggested, follow the nearest sorceress around like a lost puppy. The thought provoked a flicker of a humourless smile, and Geralt finally shrugged. "Lead on, I suppose," he said, deliberately not responding to either question.
She stared at Geralt hard, for a moment, as if to try and read his thoughts. Or perhaps seriously considering the merits of a spell that might crack his skull open and reveal certain truths in that way.
Illyana ultimately took her hand away from him and called up a portal. It wasn't necessary just yet, when they could as easily walk to room 157 which contained the Otherworld travel agency, but she took small comfort in the schadenfreude that came with herding him through it now. "Very well. Brace yourself for a vacation."