OPEN | big your dad after thanksgiving vibes

[wolvenhour]

CHARACTERS: Geralt and YOU
LOCATION: *vague hand gesture* Around
DATE: October 1-6
CONTENT: Geralt is getting his bearings and hmm'ing at everything
WARNINGS: TBD

I. THANKS, IT HAS POCKETS

[ A laboratory wasn't a new sight to Geralt — provided he turned a blind eye to the jumble of crates dominating the far wall, brimming with metal scrap pieces and strange that smelled vaguely of copper. Turning his focus on the workbench and shelves of delicate glass vials labeled for his convenience, it was almost like being at home. All it needed was dripping stone walls and the scratching of rats underfoot, but he wasn't complaining.

Rows of vials Geralt has carefully set up beside small hand instruments and scales fill the workbench. Geralt mutters to himself various measurements and takes inventory as he removes small leather pouches from his gambeson. Several leather pouches whose number defy how much could physically occupy a single space. Geralt reaches for one and pulls the leather cord sinching it together, and immediately the smell of sulfur emanates from the laboratory.

Without turning around, Geralt stands straight with his shoulders drawing into a taut line. The moment anyone's first footfall hits the floor he calls back, ]

Don't touch anything. Unless you're looking to burn off your eyebrows or smell like a horse's ass the rest of the day.

II. HMM

[ What bothered Geralt the most about the Ximilia wasn't the idea of being on a flying ship drifting somewhere out in the stars or that he had potentially made a disastrous pack with an otherworldly entity. That he could deal with in his own time. No, what unnerved him was how solid everything. Uniformly sturdy floors made of something like metal but shone like marble, he couldn't muffle his footsteps or find defects to hear others approaching as everything echoed. Every corner was lit in the same sterile white that hummed incessantly. It was impossible to fade into the background or ignore anything else. Even the silence was deafeningly loud.

Finding the sunlight room had been a welcome reprieve — even illusions could be relaxing if one didn't look too hard for the cracks. Geralt drops to his haunches under the tree with a heavy thud and a low grunt. A small pile of leaves dried and brown with the turning season crunched beneath him as he settled onto his knees with his feet tucked underneath. Removing a whetstone from a pouch on his belt, Geralt unsheathes his steel sword and idly begins some much-needed maintenance. A task to keep him busy, but the familiar surroundings took some of the edge off.

When he wasn't sunbathing, Geralt followed his nose to the mess hall. The kitchens were as sterile as the rest of the station, which he definitely appreciated. It was nice not to contend with vermin or a fat mouser for food. The refrigerator was new, though. When he opened it expecting a larder and instead found a chill tickle his face, he immediately shut the door. And then he opened the door, closed it again, and finally decided to open it when he confirmed: Yes, it was freezing on the inside, and No, the light didn't stay on after he closed it. Geralt grabs an entire brick of cheese, a sealed pack of deli turkey, and a half-empty crate of beer. The last of which he glared at, cursing as he wondered how in the hell it opened.

Sometime later, Geralt can be found in the common area. There is nothing to keep his attention long, even after thumbing through random books on the shelves. What does cause him to linger is the couch. Less than a minute after falling onto one, Geralt has crossed his arms over his stomach and let his head dip down. Chin to his chest, Geralt drifts into a shallow nap. Mouth twitched behind his unshaven face as he remained distantly alert but too tired to ignore the siren's call of cushions not stuffed with straw or down. ]

Comments

[gusurules]

[Only cold food? So an ice box of some sort, then.

Wangji nodded to indicate he understood the other man's lack of knowledge in this.]

Mn. The... technology-magic of this place is... different.

[He turned his gaze to the 'food' the man had pulled out.]

The food. What kind is it?