[Closed]

[rollstoseduce]

Who: A metaphorical wolf, an actual wolf, a bard, a swordcat, a rat king, a poison king, a horse with wings, a horse with a bug fish name and a wyvern eta and now a second horse
Where: National Park
When: Some time during 4th wall
Summary: Sparring! Powers! Potions! Animals! Secrets revealed, oh my!
Rating: let's give it an R for naughty jokes and references in narration



So you want to fight a witcher?
>Yes
>No
>Gwent

Comments

[rollstoseduce]

[So this whole wacky event started with such poor timing: they had arrived at Goldenrod the night before. But after handling Geralt's sensory overload, he's gotta say: things are fine. No, scratch that: things are great. Roach is back, his lute is back, Kiri is a bird again, and Geralt has his powers... which Jaskier has been enjoying thoroughly, if you know what that means.

It's temporary, he knows. A pity, but that only means they should make the most out of it, right?

If you had asked Jaskier, a freaking sparring session wasn't included in those plans. He shouldn't be surprised that the three lords have contacted Geralt so fast, this happened in their world all the time too: humans, for some fucking reason, have this stupid need to measure their fighting skills against a witcher's. Jaskier learned over two decades ago to stop trying to make them change their minds, going for a simple warning before backing out to enjoy the show instead. This allows him lots of smug amusement and the chance of many I told you so's later.]

It is my obligation, as Geralt's bard, to remind you all that he'll make you eat dirt faster than my delivering of this warning. Oh, but what do I know?

[The sarcasm is strong in this one. But hey, he gave his warning, his duty here is done. Now he doesn't have to feel bad when they all lose, he can just watch while sipping wine and strumming his beloved elven lute, comfortably sitting on the picnic blanket he's brought for the occasion. He must admit, this isn't such a bad idea after all: they may be human but they are still pretty damn skilled warriors, so the fights are almost a dance in themselves. They won't win, but they're good enough to give Geralt a run for his money. Besides, the view is fantastic - so many attractive men getting sweaty as their muscles clash against each other? Yes please, Jaskier is here for that. Speaking of attractive... mmmh.]

Since you are all so eager to test Geralt's abilities, would you be so kind of doing me a favor? Tell him he's good. Or any other compliment you may think of - extra credits if you use the word friend. Now that meddling nose of his is back, he will be able to tell you aren't lying or just being polite.

[He gives Geralt A Look when saying that - seriously, witcher, why is it so hard to accept compliments?]

[lovelybottom]

[It's a strange truth that whenever humans find out that there's something in their midst that's stronger and faster than they are, they have the absurd desire to prove it wrong. He's lost count over the years of how many overconfident men have challenged him to duels, either for their own pride or to impress another. They all end the same way, anyway-- with a humiliated man and a witcher who's annoyed at having his time wasted. Sometimes with a dead man, if said man's goal was a dead witcher. Jaskier did sometimes attempt to dissuade these foolhardy men from their intended actions, to varying effect. Most of the time, they didn't want to listen to a witcher's bard (or, sometimes, they would less charitably call him the witcher's whore. Those men usually ended their bouts with a broken arm.)]

[There's a certain amount of amusement that Geralt derives from Jaskier's unceasing faith in his abilities. Regardless of the foe, the bard seems to think that he'll always snatch victory. Granted, Geralt rarely goes against anyone who can match him for skill or strength who isn't another witcher, but from what he's heard about these Fodlan lords and their Crests, they might have a shot at it. Dimitri, especially-- he's broad and sturdy, and if what he's heard is correct, unusually strong. Geralt may not have to keep such close control over his strength when sparring him.]

[And if Jaskier had left it at that, it would've been for the best. Instead, he continues on, prattling on about complimenting him. It's all nonsense. What would he need compliments for? If he wins, he wins. If he loses, he loses.]

I don't need them to compliment me. [Geralt is in the process of checking over his steel sword; it's been months since he'd seen it last, so he needs to make sure everything is in good order before he uses it. He'll check the silver one, as well, though that is of less urgency since he's unlikely to need it here.] I hear plenty of your opinion. Isn't that enough?

[rollstoseduce]

[As usual, Geralt says he doesn't need compliments, which is the biggest crap Jaskier's ever heard - that poor self-esteem needs them like people need air to live. Jaskier opens his mouth to say exactly that, but then Geralt adds more and--

Oh.

The sound of his lute suddenly stops when Jaskier freezes as he stares at Geralt with wide eyes and an open mouth. Geralt just... Geralt just said that Jaskier's opinion is more important to him than everyone else's. And these aren't even random tavern drunk bigots, they're friends. The planned scolding is dropped - how can he call Geralt out for it when he's being so fucking romantic right now? Those are the kind of words that belong on a bloody poem!

The fact they're in public, in front of people they're supposed to be pranking with this little secret of theirs, is completely forgotten - Jaskier only has eyes for the witcher, feeling completely overwhelmed by such a simple gesture. Words aren't Geralt's forte, so when stuff like this happens, well...

Jaskier puts down his lute and runs towards his boyfriend, grabs his face with both hands and proceeds to kiss the hell out of him. It's deep and passionate and definitely not the first time they've done it. Surprise?

When the kiss is finally broken after what their audience may consider too damn long minutes, Jaskier still keeps his hands on Geralt's face and smiles the softest of smiles at him, blue eyes filled with love and adoration.]

How come you go from only answering with grunts to saying the sweetest things?

[lovelybottom]

[Jaskier approaches him quite quickly, and Geralt has to move the sword out of the way so that he doesn't accidentally impale him with it. As always, the bard has no appreciation for how you should behave around a weapon, which is one of the reasons why he hesitates to give him anything more dangerous than a butter knife. Supposedly he'd had some amount of training when he was young, but if that's the case, he's retained little of it. Or just doesn't care, putting the onus of safety on his witcher. Typical, really.]

[The bard's inability to properly handle any sword that isn't intimately attached to someone becomes a moot point when he kisses him-- and it's a very full kiss, the kind that Geralt would expect when they're alone and Jaskier's feeling particularly well-inclined towards him, not when they're standing a few feet away from other people. Jaskier's also quite good at the whole kissing thing, and it's easy to get lost in the process of it when he's the one leading it. One of Geralt's hands grips the bard's hip during those-- probably excruciating, for some-- minutes, though he still has the presence of mind not to let it go anywhere indecent. No free shows.]

Hm.

[A characteristic grunt from Geralt in response when they finally break. See, Jaskier, this is what you get for drawing attention to the few times that you get full sentences for answers. Then, softer, just between the two of them:]

You've ruined your game, bard.

Horse Times with Geralt

[nastyboy]

It's taken Dimitri a bit of time to get to where everyone is supposed to meet up, because, well... He's been having a day, you see. He had to get new shoes, run into his younger self, and deal with...

"Sshh, shh, I know, I know, there are too many male scents here," he murmurs reassuringly as he comes into view within the park. His hands are holding onto reins, and those reins are connected to a harness, and that harness is seated on a pegasus. She's in armor as well, perfectly fitted to not get in the way of her wings. It's also making her more of a threat than usual as she snorts and stomps her feet a little bit, wings flaring out occasionally.

But she is still going along with Dimitri instead of fighting him completely. He's taking that as a success.

[lovelybottom]

The problem with suddenly having a horse again, Geralt has found, is that there's a lot less open space available in this realm than on the Continent. Turning Roach out to graze was never a problem when he traveled through miles of meadow and pastureland in between one village and the next; it's a greater issue when humans live so close together. The park seems like a reasonable compromise, until he can find a better option. Gods forbid she end up on a roof again. Took him ages to get her down.

He recognizes Dimitri's voice well before the man is actually within view, and from the sound of hooves and the rattle of metal on metal, he's brought a horse with him as well. There should be enough pasture available for two horses, and they're usually fairly social creatures. Roach gets along with others of her species far better than she does with other humans.

Dimitri walks into view, bringing with him a creature that's mostly horse-shaped, coaxing her gently along. She's agitated but still compliant, making her displeasure known with stomps and flicking ears and restless... wings?

Oh. So this is one of those pegasus that he'd been told about. They're certainly just mythical on the Continent, but this is very much a horse with wings, right there in front of him. Roach lifts her head from where she'd been contently grazing while Geralt brushed her; she is perhaps as unsure of what to make of this newcomer as Geralt is.

"Quite a mount you've got. Should I be watching out for tamed wyvern as well?" he asks. Gods help them all if Claude got his mount back, too-- where would you even put it? At least a pegasus could fit into a stable.

[nastyboy]

Dimitri can't reply immediately for a moment; all of his attention is on the pegasus he's guiding along. That's the smart thing to do with any steed animal that isn't yours, in his opinion. If you don't have a bond, then you have no idea what the animal will do.

And this is a pegasus. And he is a man. Making her deal with even more men.

He's taking no chances.

Only when he's gotten her a bit more into the park where there's some grass for her to nibble on, and she seems to have calmed in the prsence of a horse, does he finally take a breath. carefully, he puts himself besides - a position where she can neither kick him nor smack her wing into him. "Perhaps," Dimitri says, trying not to sound too exhausted at what he's had to wrangle all day. "Although I have not seen one yet... Likely for the better." He has his hands full as it is.

With the pegasus calmer, he looks over to where Geralt is and perks up. "Oh... What a lovely mare you have there." She has a rather plain chestnut coat, but Dimitri has always loved that kind of coat, honestly. It's so warm, and pleasant to look at. "I hope she won't mind the company..."

[lovelybottom]

The pegasus seems to calm down a bit once she has grass and the company of something that's shaped mostly the same as she is. It seems that horse-shaped creatures also prefer to stay in herds rather than being in the company of unfamiliar people, so hopefully Roach's presence will continue to be a calming influence. Dimitri sounds harried enough as it is without something adding to his woes.

"This is Roach," he says, properly introducing her since Dimitri has shown an interest. Roach, however, doesn't return much of that interest, and instead goes back to making a meal of the lawn. "I don't think she'll mind your pegasus, but you should watch your fingers."

He tips his head towards his pack, which is propped up against the base of a nearby tree. "Or bribe her. I've apples in my bag."

That's how Jaskier got more than one Roach to warm up to him-- shameless bribery. Horses are not immune to apples and sugar cubes, and the bard had learned to come well stocked with both. Geralt would prefer a little less sugar and perhaps more carrots if he was going to do his bribing, but he has little say in what Jaskier ultimately does.

"What do you call the pegasus?"

It would be awkward to keep referring to her as 'the pegasus', after all.

Well that's just a fucking wyvern isn't it...WITH SURPRISE HORSE

[vrdantwind]

[There have been some mixed miracles of this weird weekend so far, with the dead arriving unexpectedly and their Crests working again. To Claude, though, he's had two incredible, unabashedly positive things happen to him.

One, of course, is the arrival of Mori, his wyvern. Of course Claude's been delighted to see him; Mori's been one of his constant companions throughout his life, growing up with him in the palace in Almyra. (At least until Mori had finally grown too big and had to be stabled properly with the other wyverns.) Claude had gone a year or so without him at the academy, but had sent back to Almyra for him once the war started as, well, riding into real battle had become more and more of a real prospect, and he'd needed to cut a more dashing figure on the battlefield once his grandfather passed away and he'd inherited the title of Duke Riegan. So really, Claude's spent most of his life with Mori, barring that one year in Garreg Mach, and even if it's only temporarily, the reunion is a welcome one.

An even more welcome reunion, however, is Wyvern!...who is not, in fact, a wyvern at all, but Claude's horse. (Claude had named Mori 'horse' in a language from a book he'd been reading when he was little, so when he'd been given a horse...well, it had only seemed fitting to extend the joke.) A bright bay with a black mane and tail, delicately built with an intelligent face, Wyvern is far from a proper Almyran warhorse. Almyra breeds their warhorses to have hooves like dinner plates that shake the ground during a cavalry charge, sturdy beasts that can stand up to the rigors of combat and carry both the armor of themselves and their riders with no difficulty. But Almyrans love their horses, and so they also breed lines meant more for speed and maneuverability, meant more for riding (and potentially riding competitions) than battle. That's the sort of horse Wyvern is, and Claude wouldn't trade him for the world.

And so it is that, not long after Dimitri leads his (or rather Ingrid's) pegasus to the park, Claude is arriving with a couple beasts of his own. He flies in on Mori's back, a broad smile visible on his face even before he lands, with Wyvern - running loose, but following Claude and Mori as though he's been well-trained to stick with his rider even without active guidance - galloping after them on the ground. And once Claude lands Mori, hopping off to give him a rub along the brow ridge just below his horns, Wyvern comes trotting up to Claude to nip at Claude's hair for attention like a jealous beauty.

Wyvern was never brought over from Almyra to Fodlan, so he's been without Claude for rather longer than Mori and he's clearly determined not to be ignored for any overgrown lizard.

If Geralt approaches - and Claude had excitedly messaged him earlier, wanting to introduce his mounts to; the man had shown a previous interest - he'll hear a low, contented rumble from Mori that sounds vaguely crocodilian, a borderline vibration in the air that makes itself known even over Claude's laughter as he tries to fend off Wyvern.] Look, just give me a second, I was getting to you!

[Claude is clearly thrilled to have his mounts with him again, and they both seem quite affectionate with him...even Mori, who as with all lizard-type creatures doesn't exactly have easily read expressions or body language. The wyvern will raise itself up on the approach of any strangers, though, sizing up any potential threats.]

[lovelybottom]

[Much to her credit, at the arrival of a wyvern not particularly far from where she's grazing in the park, Roach makes no sign of distress or spooking. She barely even looks up, continuing to make her meal of the lawn. Whether this is because she is a particularly intelligent beast or that she's just so used to all of Geralt's witchery business that she's hard to spook is up for debate, but the most response that a passing wyvern shadow gets is that she moves into a shadier spot to keep eating.]

[Geralt follows the shadow to where Claude decided to land, and when he arrives, the younger man is attempting to split his attention between a very affectionate wyvern and a very insistent horse. The horse is a fine example of his breed; the body shape is reminiscent of the Zerrikanian, built light and refined for speed in hot climates. A stallion, too-- unsurprising since he'd already been aware that Claude is of some kind of noble birth, and the noble classes tend to prefer their horses ungelded, especially for the men of the household.]

[More interesting is the wyvern-- he's white. That's a rare enough color for any species outside of those with a winter coat-- and Geralt is aware of the irony there-- because there aren't many instances when an all white coloration would be good for hunting. It's unlikely to be a dominant coloration trait, and Claude did tell him before that special breeding of wyvern was reserved only for royalty. Said royal wyvern rises up at his approach, and Geralt waits at a reasonable distance while he makes his assessments. This isn't how he'd normally approach a wyvern-- without armor or swords-- but he's willing to let Claude take the lead on this introduction. Geralt's curious to see the differences between the Fodlan wyvern and the Continental ones for himself.]

You've a fine horse, Claude. And a very unusual wyvern.

[vrdantwind]

[Claude grins through the praise of Wyvern - of course he's a fine horse, as far as Claude is concerned (though he's wise enough to not say this in front of Geralt) he's the best horse - but there's the faintest flicker to his smile when Geralt mentions unusual wyvern.

Damn. That's right, Claude told him about the breeding programs for wyverns, didn't he? Including how some countries breed special colors of wyvern specifically for royalty. When Claude had passed that tidbit along, he'd never expected Mori to actually show up in this world and be incriminatingly not the colors Claude told Geralt were standard in wyverns. He'd doled out that information with the comforting belief that he entirely controlled what information Geralt did and didn't have on the subject, and he'd never have another source.

It's not that Claude still wants to keep his being a king a secret, exactly. He'd been planning to more or less announce it at prom, at least to those who might ask. But somehow...he cringes at the thought of telling Geralt. He's pretty sure it will only damage his standing with the man; it certainly won't improve it. More than that, he doesn't want Geralt to perceive him as someone who stands upon his status - as someone who tries to make himself important, or flaunts his title. And, in fact, Claude genuinely is none of those things...but he gets the feeling if anyone would decide he was, based on very little evidence and a lot of dislike, it'd be Geralt.

It's already frustrating enough how much Geralt doesn't like him. If he starts disliking Claude even more for things he isn't even guilty of, Claude thinks he might scream.

He decides to act like everything is perfectly normal and no one is having an internal crisis. He'd never said only royalty have different colored wyverns, after all. Geralt may not have made any particular connection. And he also may not care enough about anything Claude-related to either draw conclusions or pursue the subject at all. It's entirely possible that if Claude plays it cool, and doesn't give himself away assuming the jig is already up, that nothing will happen.]

These are Wyvern and Mori - I've told you about them before, of course. I couldn't ask for better companions outside a place like this.

Geralt's here to kick ass and chew gum and he doesn't really know what gum is

[lovelybottom]

[So, you want to fight a witcher.]

[Probably not the best decision of the day, but points for balls. Geralt's got the full scope of his witchery business back and a few similarly powered-up nobles willing to spar with him-- with varying degrees of enthusiasm about it. Felix, of course, is always eager for a fight, and Geralt can admit at least to himself that he's interested in seeing how his strength and skills hold up against magic Crests. Dimitri doesn't spoil for a fight as much as his countryman, which is perhaps to be expected considering his current demeanor, and Claude... probably doesn't want to fight Geralt at all, but Geralt also doesn't care. Fight him, nerd.]

[He draws his steel sword-- silver is for monsters, and no one here fits that description.]

I've a little magic, but I can refrain from using it if it would give me too much advantage.

[vrdantwind]

[Technically, Claude doesn't want to fight a witcher. But the witcher wants to fight him, and Geralt and Felix have enough similarities that Claude suspects that he might just improve his standing with Geralt if he finally agrees to spar with him. (Really, the things he'll do to forge a friendly relationship...) And with Claude's Crest having returned to him, however temporarily - well, it's probably the most optimal circumstances for a match Claude knows he's going to lose.

Aside from Claude's decided preference for diplomacy over combat, that's the main reason he's been holding out on any sparring opportunities with Geralt. He knows he's going to lose, the same way he knows the sun will come up tomorrow. Felix can't beat Geralt even when fighting with swords, and Felix is one of the most dedicated and accomplished swordsmen probably in their entire world back home. Felix is certainly a far better fighter than Claude. So if Felix can't beat Geralt even when fighting with the weapon he specializes in, how is Claude supposed to beat him in a fistfight when fistfighting is not at all his forte? The answer is that he can't possibly, and it's never been in Claude's nature to walk eyes open into an inevitable failure. Claude's nature has always been to either find a way to stack the odds in his favor, pulling out every stop short of war crimes(unlike Edelgard, he does have some lines he'll draw), or to simply avoid the situation entirely. This is unpleasantly uncharacteristic for him.

There's no one here whose opinion of his competence and infallibility is critical to his life and dreams. Claude has to keep telling himself this, because the terror of knowingly setting himself up to fail - to publicly lose a fight - is palpable enough to taste. Even if anyone present would think less of him for losing to Geralt - which is unlikely already - it's not going to lead to political repercussions. It's not going to invite (more) assassins. It's not going to lose him the critical currency of esteem in the eyes of his people. He's surrounded by friends, not jackals. They won't pounce on seeing weakness.

There's no one here whose opinion of my competence and infallibility is critical to my life and dreams -

And, because presentation is fully half of perception(performance being the other half), Claude can repeat that phrase over and over in his head even as he smiles at Geralt as though nothing is wrong at all.]

I'd appreciate that. I never really got the hang of magic, myself. [He eyes the sword.] But if you don't mind...I'd prefer to fight you using fight club rules. No weapons at all. If I was going to compete with you in weapons, I'd prefer to do it on an archery range.

[At least he could quite possibly beat Geralt in a shooting contest. There aren't many things Claude is confident he could outperform someone in when they have some seventy years' experience at least to draw on(and still youthful muscles to use), but since Geralt's admittedly never had to snipe targets from the back of a flying mount, Claude doesn't see how the man could have gotten the degree of practice needed to match him. Shooting from a horse, Geralt's probably done, and it's tricky, but not so tricky as shooting from the back of something with a full 360 degree range of movement on every axis. That thought is some balm to the bruising his ego's going to take here. The balm for his more physical injuries...well, that'll be the Crest, hopefully.

It does, of course, require him to land hits on Geralt. But if Claude is hoping for anything out of this, it's that he can at least put up a good enough fight while losing to earn some respect from the witcher. Being a complete pushover will only reinforce Geralt's low opinion of him, and render all of this pointless.]

[lovelybottom]

[Claude reeks of fear.]

[He's plastered a smile onto his face, but there's a terror-stench underneath it that practically burns Geralt's sinuses with every breath. The scent of other people's fear has never been a pleasant one, never been something that Geralt enjoyed. The fact that it's coming so strongly from Claude is... strange.]

[Geralt would have initially thought that Claude is afraid of him or what he'll do to him, but that's quickly dismissed-- Claude's never been afraid of him. If he had been, he wouldn't have continued to irritate and prod and press at him at almost every opportunity, he would have avoided him. He certainly wouldn't have walked over and willingly offered himself up as a sparring partner.]

[If it isn't Geralt himself that he's afraid of, than it must be something else about this situation. Something about sparring with the witcher terrifies him, and it can't be fighting itself, not when he's been trained and has been through multiple battles. A simple spar should hold no terror for him. He first considers that it might be the sword, the possibility of using a real edged weapon instead of a dulled practice blade-- but the fear-stench isn't alleviated even when he returns his blade to its sheath and sets it aside.]

Hm. [He's not fighting with Claude, for sport or not, when he's on the verge of panic. Geralt steps within arm's reach of him and gets a hand on his shoulder, turning him to start leading him a short distance away from the group, enough to be out of easy earshot.] Claude. A word.

[He could have asked what the problem was in front of everyone, but Geralt knows from experience that most people react poorly to a witcher dragging up emotions that they thought were well-hidden. That's useful, sometimes, when he's trying to put pressure on a man's guilty conscience, but he wants to put Claude at ease, not make things worse. Fear isn't his goal.]

Breathe with me. [A witcher's heart beats at about a quarter rate of a human's, and his breathing is similarly slow. It's an effective way to start to calm a panicked human; it's worked in the past, when he's needed to get information out of the frightened victims of monster attacks. It's worked when Jaskier woke from nightmares.] Calm yourself.

[nastyboy]

[Dimitri does not have a weapon.]

[What he does have is a metal pipe he's picked up from somewhere during all the teleporting nonsense he's had to deal with this weekend, and, well, it will do for now. A metal pipe is a bit more sturdy than the wooden lances he's taken to using here in Johto, and he thinks he will need that slight edge here.]

[Not because he thinks it will do any good for a fight against Geralt, of course, but it will at least last a little longer in his hands, maybe.]

[Really, the only thing that would last long at all would be Areadbhar, but, well... That's not here in Johto. So he'll just have to make do.]

[Geralt has seen him in Goldenrod's Fight Club, and how he's become used to fist-to-fist combat. Yet as he slides into a ready position, it's very clear that this is where Dimitri's true preferences and ability shine. There's an ease in his stance that speaks of constant practice with it, and his hands seem perfectly at home on the pipe - not only from using polearms, but also from adjusting to more improvised weapons.]

[Dimitri knows he can always improve, of course. When he is older, assuming he lives that long, he'll probably be better.]

[But he's survived this long for a reason.]

Ah... I believe it would only be fair if you used your magic as well. [Since Saints know that Dimitri can't control his own Crest.] Although I do not know what magic means for you.

[lovelybottom]

[The heft of the metal pole in Dimitri's hands looks comfortable and familiar; this is more like his weapon of choice, and it shows. Geralt doesn't often have to fight against lancers, though, so this will be an interesting test of his skills. Even though Dimitri might fare better with a proper spear or lance instead of a pipe, an improvised weapon can be just as effective as any other kind in the right hands.]

[Geralt moves into his own familiar stance, sword at the ready. He favors a one-handed rather than two-handed grip, leaving one hand free.]

Witchers aren't mages, so I am only capable of a few simple spells.

[Though simple doesn't necessarily mean ineffective, the clarification is mostly so that Dimitri can adjust his strategies accordingly. Geralt, after all, already knows about his Crest, so it's only fair for him to know that Geralt can do some amount of magic as well.]

[They are both ready. Geralt nods to Dimitri.] Let's begin.

[One of Dimitri's greatest assets will be his polearm's increased reach; Geralt is at a disadvantage so long as he stays at a distance. His best option, then would be to close that distance as quickly as possible and get within grappling range, where the length of the polearm becomes unwieldy. So that's his first goal, what his first moves aim for-- getting in close.]

For Claude

[bestswordmaster]

When Dimitri goes running to talk to Claude immediately, Felix almost snaps at him. He doesn't, because the problem isn't Dimitri going over there; it's Felix's worry that Dimitri will be allowed to talk to Claude now when he and Grant were told to leave him alone. So he turns away from that side of the field and busies himself with other things. Dimitri comes back not long after, though, and Felix feels relieved on the one hand but concerned on the other. And on the third, Geralt can hear them no matter where in this field they go, so it's better this way anyway.

So Felix waits until they get back to the house in Olivine before he brings it up to Claude again, just sneaking glances at him on the trip back. He's not sure why he expects to see anything - Claude's better at hiding his feelings than anyone he knows - but maybe that's what he's looking for: hints that things are so bad that Claude can't hide them.

Once they get back, while everyone is busy setting their things down and settling in, Felix approaches Claude quietly.

"We should talk now." A pause. "...if...that's all right with you."

[vrdantwind]

For once, Claude's not really hiding anything - but that doesn't mean there's anything to see. He simply seems rather blank, still wrapped up in processing. It's somehow, simultaneously, both better and worse than he'd been at the field with Geralt, where he'd shoved it aside to act 'normal'. The act had been perfect, the emotions so completely set aside that not even Geralt could smell them, but it had simply been deferring things for later and no one could have mistaken it for anything else. Having the disturbingly perfect mask set aside is no doubt a relief to Claude's boyfriends...but Claude being as empty as a vacant house once he's solely with people he trusts isn't exactly any more comforting than the normality they all knew wasn't real.

He glances over at Felix when the man speaks to him, at least, without seeming to need to be snapped out of some kind of trance. "All right," he agrees. "My room or yours?"

[bestswordmaster]

That blankness is incredibly disturbing; Felix has never seen Claude that way before. But it does mean that Claude isn't pretending, and that's something.

"Yours," Felix replies without hesitation. That was where they were the last time they had a serious talk like this--well, not this exact room, but the room Claude was staying in at the time--and having his Pokemon there seemed to help. So he reaches for his boyfriend's hand and, if Claude will let him, tugs him upstairs and into Claude's room.

The Claude Train continues

[nastyboy]

Dimitri had really and truly thought it could be a simple matter, even with tempers having flared. He thought that, for a friend, Jaskier could give an apology, and Claude could accept. Anything else past that could be figured out later, but that would set the base. Wouldn't it?

So of course he had spoken to Jaskier. Of course he had encouraged an apology. And when Jaskier storms back, leaving Claude behind, and teleports immediately away.... Well. Jaskier's words may not have been his fault, but that does not absolve him of his own influence on the events.

So Dimitri rushes over to where Claude stands immediately, brow furrowed in concern. "I'm sorry," he murmurs immediately, the second he's in earshot of his lover. "I pushed for this."

[vrdantwind]

It takes Claude a moment to respond; some part of him is still shell-shocked. (Not a term anyone from his world would know, but he'd latch onto it instantly if he had the context for it.) Things had gotten so bad, so quickly...and then been cut off with such abrupt and complete finality.

All the friendship and affection he'd thought he and Jaskier had shared, their similarities...and somehow, Jaskier had become so fed up with him that none of it had been worth putting up with for another second. None of it had even been worth trying to salvage.

It legitimately takes a second for him to process what Dimitri says. When he looks up at Dimitri, he smiles, but it's a purely reflexive expression; his eyes, his mind, are a million miles away.

"It's not your fault." The words sound distant, even to him. "If things were that bad...waiting probably wouldn't have improved them. And I could have told him I wasn't ready to talk, if I wanted."

There are a lot of things Claude will question in the wake of this - is already questioning, in fact. But this isn't one of them. If Jaskier found him this unbearable, was so ready to wash his hands of Claude and walk away...it was never more than a matter of time. This could maybe have been delayed - which might simply have prolonged the agony - but never actually prevented.

[nastyboy]

"I still pushed," Dimitri insists stubbornly, raising a hand to lightly touch his fingers along Claude's shoulder. Is he allowed more than this? It doesn't feel like it, but Dimitri has to admit that he never feels as though he's allowed it. "If you had some more time, you could have better prepared yourself for such a talk. Yet I stuck my nose in where it was not needed."

Still. Taking on blame cannot stop what had happened in the end. It can't take away the hurt that is clearly going through Claude, that halted such a swift and clever mind.

Once, Dimitri had thought he could be smart. He thought he could slide a true answer out of Claude when the other man was preoccupied, thinking about something else. That had been foolish, of course, and not gone how he had planned... But now? Now, it feels like that sort of plan could almost succeed with how out of sorts and hurt Claude is.

Dimitri loathes to see it.

So he reaches up with his other hand, fingertips along Claude's cheek now. "Khalid," he murmurs, leaning in close. "It is not your fault either. The rest of us are here with you, beloved, and so you are not alone no matter what has happened."

Claude Time, Again

[woofdad]

It takes Grant longer than he'd like to go to Claude about all this, but it feels to him like an unavoidable wait; Dimitri's probably the best person to talk to him in the moment, when they're still there, and it makes sense that Felix would go to him right away when they got back to Olivine, and Grant doesn't want to end up crowding Claude and potentially overwhelming him. So he waits, until he can convince himself that it might be something approaching a "good time".

...There's probably no such thing as a "good time", of course, but... close enough.

"Hey, would... you be okay with talking now?"

[vrdantwind]

At least Grant has plenty of moments in which to choose from. Following the explosive breaking of ties between himself and Jaskier, Claude has been keeping much more to himself than he normally does, especially in the first few days afterwards. He's mostly been holed up in his room, trying to lose himself in books.

His room seems messier than usual as a result. All the books Claude owns (he doesn't have many, due to traveling, but he's still got over half a dozen) seem to be laying around, more than half of them open as though he'd been reading them and then gotten distracted by something else. Possibly another book. He's sitting with the book Sylvain got him on Kanto now, with Tempo the Litten on his lap.

Normally, Tempo is quite a contented lap-cat and would be dozing, but he doesn't seem as settled as normal. Now, as Grant speaks, he looks from Grant to Claude and then meows, pawing lightly at Claude's sleeve.

Claude, for his part, looks up from his book readily when Grant comes in - and sets it aside entirely at the man's words. "I don't mind. I'm sorry I didn't come to you, after I made that promise..."

But Claude couldn't really bring himself to voluntarily broach such a painful subject, promise or no promise. Fortunately, none of his boyfriends have thus far made it necessary.

[woofdad]

Grant shakes his head, and goes to sit down wherever is available - on the floor, if he has to. "No, that's totally fine. This stuff is bound to be hard to bring up as the one most impacted by it... I just didn't want to put you on the spot too early."