iii. video. open, then unseelie-locked. backdated to the end of september, ~29-30th

[vrykolakas]

       [UNLOCKED: VISIBLE TO ALL.]

[Candlelight laps at the dim image of the Brucolac's face, showing up mottled scars along his cheeks. His expression is tired. Whether it's the light or exhaustion, his olive skin looks faintly greenish.]

Alyosha of Redgate is dead by the hand of Reynard the Fox.

[It's not a lie. She is exactly as deceased as he is. He sighs out a breath, tches faintly, and moves on, his hoarse, scratchy voice impassive.]

Unrelatedly, I require information on the thief who stole the feathers of the birdking. He wasn't found? Did anyone pick up a trail?

[He knows he wasn't found. Hence (partly) the current sticky situation he's in.]


       [LOCKED TO UNSEELIE.]

I'm at Caer Scima.

[He hisses through his teeth, rubs his forehead; his head is pounding, thick knots of tension twisting in his temples, pain shooting down his neck, bursting behind his eyes, tightening his jaw. Bone-dry and grimly humourous, he says:]

If anyone, preferably human, feels they have a surplus of blood.

[That sentence is left unfinished, the conclusion—in his mind, at least—obvious.]


       [LOCKED TO ALICE & BERSERKER.]

[Flatly:]

What the fuck happened.

- - - -

[ooc: I realised too late that dating it this way means it went up a few days before new arrivals, damn it! but PLEASE feel free to have any newbies reply a few days late, if you so wish. c: ]

Comments

[gwynbleidd]

[HE CHEATED A LITTLE. Kinda. It's his job to know these things.] I'm a witcher.

[He's just going to assume, like others, that this guy doesn't know what a witcher is.] I'm paid to kill monsters.

[vrykolakas]

[Oh gods, even if he is feeling better now, it's not the time. His face collapses into a grimacing wince, not even angry so much as furiously resigned; his great forked tongue lolls out as his upper lip curls up.]

—monsters, yes. [Sneeringly and unhappily.] Why?

[gwynbleidd]

[He's not sure how to go about answering that question because there are many ways he can. His downfall is that he usually doesn't prattle as much as he should about his job and the whys, so people get the wrong impression. Some monsters do, too. It's not so much a contract as it is an investigation.] The brothels won't take me, and I'm not an assassin. So I have to be a witcher.

[The agitation doesn't go unnoticed.] It depends on the monster. [As if that explains everything.]

[vrykolakas]

[The Brucolac's eyebrows lift a little, expression changing—not softening, but moving a little further from anger and more towards resignation. It's the best answer Geralt could have given, really. The Brucolac doesn't like to sneer at necessary evils.]

So many things do depend on the monster.

[He rubs at his brow. Fine. Whatever. Think of it as a mix between bounty-hunting and big game tracking. He's done both. He's killed his own share of innocents and terrors, human and otherwise. It's just the broad, broad category of monsters which troubles him.]

Tell me, then, what have you killed?

[gwynbleidd]

[The questions don't seem to be getting any easier on the How Do I Really Answer These home front. He's killed a great many things. He's killed people, too, even if he doesn't hunt them for a living.

But, to be honest, he has helped a lot more people than the many things he has killed. Now, how to answer the question.] You'll have to be more specific. I have a long list.