(no subject)

[worstsin]

There was something wrong happening.

At first Geralt had avoided the woods, because it felt like that off-ness was concentrated there. The birds and insects had gone quiet at first, and soon after they'd started to flee to the forest's edges. Though autumn had barely begun, in some areas Geralt found trees turning rusty, leaves dying off.

That had been at first, and from there things had gotten wronger.

When Geralt realized what was happening, he went to the woods. He worried it had no longer become an issue of protecting himself until he managed to leave Darrow, but of protecting Darrow potentially from himself.

Whatever corruption existed in the forest, growing and spreading, it affected his body, and his mind. It had twisted itself around the witcher mutations, had expressed them in new ways, or simply more.

And so Geralt was back at his old camp. Hiding, biding time, and keeping a baleful eye on the situation. He ought to do something about it, but what? What could he do, when he didn't even understand what was happening to himself?

He sat beside the fire, hunkered over an evening meal in a foulest mood. His skin was paler than usual, dark veins standing out against the white. All of his senses screamed. He gripped his dinner in hands that had begun to end in blackened, pointed nails, that reminded Geralt too much of Regis. That was the bruxa in him, no doubt, a fact that he wanted to put little thought into, if he could avoid it.

The canines that filled his mouth too much more than they used to, those were likely more attributable to a manticore mutagen.

And the fact that he had made dinner of a squirrel, and had not felt the bother or desire to cook it, that Geralt wanted to put thought into even less.

Comments

[every_blossom_blooming]

Nina didn't like bad dreams. She had always been blessed with fairly restful sleep, whatever happened to her, but lately that hadn't been so.

She knew Inej was unquiet, and she could see and feel the tension in other people around Darrow - some more than others. Her tailor seemed exhausted; a young man she'd seen a few times looked downright haunted.

And she hadn't really seen Geralt in a week or so. She hadn't thought too much of it the first day or so: maybe he was out monster hunting. But his visits had been so regular before, and more frequent since they had decided to start a relationship, of a kind, that his absence was noticed.

He didn't answer his phone, either.

Finally Nina grabbed her shawl and headed out to the woods. Autumn had finally come to Darrow and the leaves crunched underfoot as she made her way to Geralt's camp. She had only been to it a handful of times - usually he came to see her.

She smelled the campfire and before long she caught the familiar rhythm of his heart... but something felt off, somehow. Nina grew more cautious as she approached. She wore a long, comfortable red dress with a dark cardigan to help keep warm. She didn't bother to try to hide her approach, not wanting to startle him.

"I should be mad at you," she said as she approached the fire. "Making me traipse all the way out here to make sure you aren't dead."

[on_mans_road]

Something was wrong. She couldn't even find solace in Cabeswater and after leaving the magic forest she felt... she felt off. She hugged herself as she walked through the twilight wood, looking far more concerned than a girl who was also a unicorn should look.

Her pale hair, her moon-white skin, and her white dress caught the dying light of the day when she caught the scent of fire, and of Witcher. But something was off there, as well. She had not encountered Geralt at his campsite in some time and she was surprised to realize he was there now, when the nights were chilly.

She changed course through the wood until she found the fire proper and his lean to. Even at this distance she could tell there was something different and she approached with natural caution.

[shok_ebasit_hissra]

He'd hurt Dorian. He could have killed him and he hadn't even realized he was doing it. He wasn't in his right mind.

Bull wasn't sure what was going on, but it was bad, and he feared madness more than anything in the world. He had been over the edge of it before and he could not go back. This time it wouldn't be a nest of Tal Vashoth: it would be people he knew and cared for. He couldn't let that happen.

So he found himself in the woods. Some part of him argued that he should go home, but what if he slept? What if he dreamed like that again? What if he didn't stop this time?

No, maybe this was better for a while, even if Dorian was certain the lyrium might have caused it and had gotten rid of it. Bull wasn't sure he could take that chance.

The scent of wood smoke caught his attention. He ended up following it and he lingered outside the light of it, his good eye reflecting it as he looked at the camp site on the other side.

"Geralt?"