shok_ebasit_hissra | (no subject)

Bull took a deep breath and closed his eye for a moment, debating the course of action he was about to take. There was something out there getting into people's heads, making them do things they wouldn't normally do. It had happened to him, which shook him down to his bones.

But he could not take himself out of this equation, not yet. He could not hunt something down and kill it if he was dead. He couldn't leave Dorian and Krem without first giving them the chance to figure this out, to help, to end it.

All he knew was that he'd had something in his head, and he'd lost control of himself. Even if what happened was ridiculous, he couldn't let it go.

So he sat in the woods, away from home and away from Dorian's shock or horror, with an awl he used to repair leather and a length of strong cord. He did not want any more corruption coming out of him. He took another breath, and with a resolve that came from years of pure belief and knowing, he used the awl to pierce both lips and draw the cord through.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Geralt snorted. Then he grew quiet for a long moment. He finished his chore, sheathed his weapons. Sensing the wood was calm again, the katydids sang to life again, and then the whipporwhils.

"I'll look into it, if you want. No promises. It's outside my usual wheelhouse."

Bull shook his head. "Heard a rumor someone was on it, someone more knowledgeable about this particular kind of thing than me or even you. I don't like staying out of it, but maybe it's better."

The rumors all said it was Biffy and his Lyall on the case, which gave Bull all the more reason to stay away from it all. He didn't want to step on toes when he and Biffy had finally reached peace.

"Heard the same. Just unfamiliar. And cynical."

Geralt picked a stone from his boot, flicked it at the Bull.

"How's Krem? Still a shit?"

He meant it in the fondest possible way. Ciri was also a shit.

"Constantly. I think he's mostly recovered from losing his woman last fall, as much as anyone can recover. He and his man are doing well, their sheep and goats seem to be thriving. Even if Krem is a city boy that has no idea what to to with livestock."

He grinned at that, because Krem had confessed that point on more than one occasion that really Gannicus was the only one in the house that knew how to tend them all.

Geralt managed to hide the sheepish look on his own face. He napped in the field with the animals at times. There were few better disguises for the predatory odor of witcher than the ungulate reek of musky sheep fleece in the sunshine.

"Good. He's a good kid. Strong, honest, speaks his mind."

Bull chuckled. "Yeah, that's what makes him a good lieutenant and a pain in my ass."

His smile faded some and he shook his head. "Of all the people trapped here, I'm glad this place found him. His future was cut short, where we came from. Here he has a life."

Geralt breathed, thought of all of the people he'd been torn from. All the dead souls who deserved another chance -- so many because of Geralt's need for Ciri.

"Angouleme, Milva, Cahir, Nenneke. So many. They deserve to be here."

And Geralt needed to be in Tir na Lia. Not here. That was cruel.

Bull nodded, and he did not list off all the Chargers, but he still carried them with him. He tried not to think often of the life that he would go back to. He knew where it ended now, and he had spent months not talking about it to anyone. Not Dorian, not Krem, and not Geralt.

"Where are you staying these nights?"

"Sometimes with a beautiful woman. Sometimes camp. Sometimes at the -- I'm working on a place off the river, in the woods. A property."

The main dwelling was barely finished. To Geralt's annoyance, it had been a wet and muddy spring.

"You ever want extra hands, you've got me and Krem. Probably Gannicus." Bull wouldn't claim to speak for the man, but the former gladiator always struck him as the easy-going type.

He remembered Geralt mentioning building his own place, not too long after they'd killed the kelpie together last year. In part because the city was hard to tolerate in the summer, and Bull couldn't blame him. He'd also recalled his concern about costs at the time.

"You did smell like roses an awful lot this winter."

Geralt gave a grateful nod. He could use the help but would never have asked for it.

"That's private, very private. Especially from the man who always reeks of oranges. "

The witcher was touchy about his relationships. He blamed Dandelon. And Lambert, who never shut the fuck up when he found a Yenn-shaped wound to poke.

Edited 2018-05-24 20:51 (UTC)

Bull just grinned. "There isn't much about me that's subtle," he rumbled. "But Dorian likes it."

He'd spent a long time learning the mage, understanding his little ticks and the things he liked and didn't like. He'd learned how far he could push before delight turned to discomfort. And he knew that for all of his bluster, Dorian liked having a partner that was not ashamed of him.

"I'll leave your roses alone, though. No fun to poke at someone that's going to hurt for it."

Bull could find a hundred other things to tease Geralt about that didn't involve his very private love life.

"I appreciate it," Geralt said, honestly.

He packed his things away, before reaching out to pull his chest against Bull's as well as possible in a hug and slap him firmly on the back.

"Go home. Salt the doorways. Take care of yourself."

Bull leaned down and lightly butted Geralt's forehead during their embrace.

"Yeah, yeah. Be careful. Whatever it is seems to stick to attacking humans or anything that looks similar."

As he drew away, Bull gave Geralt's shoulder a squeeze, then affectionately shoved him. "And let me know if anything else needs killing."