farsickness | (no subject)

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merlan o'keefe | original character

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WHO: Renfri + OPEN
WHEN: 2nd half of June
WHAT: Buying a horse. Also general poking around town, feel free to wildcard
WHERE: Gazin

After several weeks in Gazin, Renfri has pretty much convinced herself that the town is no elaborate illusion of Stregobor's. Even for him, keeping up such a large-scale illusion for weeks on end seems like too much. If nothing else, he should have tired of toying with her by now and gone for the kill.

So it looks like she has really been saved by the bell. Or something of the sort, not that she thinks she had needed saving, strictly, she'd had a plan and it would have worked just fine if everyone else played along.

Life is coming along quite nicely, while she hasn't found reliable work yet she is doing well enough by selling out her sword hand for a day here and there - she's never had much luck returning to any kind of settled, orderly life anyway, not since it was first taken from her. There's always someone needing a sword to accompany them into the forest or an innkeeper needing an extra bouncer on the busier nights, or just some hunting to be done.

She may be found poking around town, trying to learn more about the lay of the land in various taverns or talking to the merchants asking for another transport which she could escort - she wouldn't mind going back to robbing them, either, but that needs a reliable crew.

Or she can be found by the stables, getting into an ever more heated argument right there on the street with the man who had introduced himself as the town's best horse breeder and trying not to stab him.

"That's a joke, right?!" she demands, getting distinctly louder now. "Do you think I've got money to waste? That horse isn't even worth half of what you want for her!"

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"Renfri," Merlan murmurs, casually interjecting herself right into the middle of this. "Would you be interested in the seller I purchased Thunder from? Fair pricing, able to take smaller payments for travellers like us, unlike some in this place. She's a good sort and has a small bit of land for the ones she isn't advertising. Better deals."

She doesn't give a crap what this loser is trying to sell. It's probably not good enough for Renfri and Merlan's got words to say about that.

Renfri turns to Merlan with relief, glad to be interrupted before she truly loses her temper and may say or do something she would come to regret - even if only for the trouble it would cause her in this place where she has been readily accepted so far.

"I would like that," she says, pointedly ignoring the man who is now puffing himself up in indignation. She turns fully towards Merlan. "Would you take me there? Thunder is one of the finest horses I've seen around here and at home, too."

"Brilliant," she says with a grin. "I know his sire and dam have a few siblings, at least one filly, and one she's been training up the same way I've been with Thunder. They're twins, the only pair she's had since she's started breeding war horses."

Ha ha. Stupid trader. No one fucks with Merlan's friends. Just a little magic and the tiny hole developing in the man's seat of his pants split embarrassingly as he straightens even further. It's loud and oh-so noticeable. She smiles at Renfri very sweetly.

Renfri may not be making a show of it but she does notice the effects of that little petty spell and her lips twitch.

"Nice work," she murmurs to Merlan as she steps closer to her, then adds louder, as if she hadn't noticed anything, "That sounds like the perfect place for me to go looking for a horse then. I'll need a sturdy, fearless horse since I'm planning to take it into Vasari Forest, or exploring beyond the forest."

There's a bright look that sticks around in Merlan's expression for a bit. Hell yes, praise is a pretty thing from Renfri. It nets her a quick wink.

"Most definitely," Merlan says with a solemn nod. "It's not far. I'm sure Thunder would be thrilled to see you again, my lady, and we are going that way."

Apparently, that's her nickname and that's that. Renfri gets all Merlan's courtesy (and not teasingly either) as the Knightly mage she has turned out to be. Besmirch her honor to your doom, ser. She pays the merchant no mind because gods she doesn't even want to look back at his ass drooping out of drawers like a...a...blobfish.

What an eldritch horror.

What a horror indeed, but Renfri who takes a certain cruel joy in horrors and vengeance does throw a good look or two back at the merchant who is finally noticing his mishap now.

Her steps are a little lighter now and she shakes her head in slight amusement. "Magic used to defend my honor, who would have thought I'd ever see the day," she says, her voice wry. It wouldn't do to let on that it truly feels nice to have someone outside her group of brigands take her side. Not that she doesn't know by now that Merlan would and will, it's just... It's different knowing and seeing it time and again.

"Let's visit Thunder then," she says, clearing her throat. No, it wouldn't do to let on how much she cares.

Geralt does well not to think much about his world. Too many unanswered questions and since no one he knows is there, it's easy to focus on his current day to day life by.. well doing the same thing he was doing back in his world. Though it was less slaying of monsters and more travelling. But, he was still making coin which kept things comfortable.

As it is, the Witcher has been out of town for most of the month, travelling with Cassandra as far as Caerlias before returning to Gazin again. Geralt would kick back for a few days and then get to rounding provisions up for a trip to Oren Trench. So, before heading back to the inn, the Witcher heads to very same horse breeder who he had bought Roach from and who stated he would happily board for a small weekly fee.

Only he only made it so far as the entrance when he hears the row between woman and owner, not quite realizing who she was as he loosens the scabbard attached to the horse's saddle. But, the sound of her voice, the cadence and the accent with which she speaks, draws his attention quickly.

Amber eyes grow big and wide.

There's a familiar prickle of being watched which pulls her out of the debate with the horse breeder, making her aware of a third presence - and in her experience, with her life, another presence which doesn't like to make itself known always means potential danger.

She turns, hand already wandering towards her sword, already scowling at the intruder.

Then she freezes.

"What are you doing here?" she blurts out.

It was like Blaviken never happened or if it did, there was indeed some strange magic going on here that was obviously trying to test him. How could she be here if he had killed her back in their world?

His eyes continue to remain big, stepping one step closer, lost in a flood of questions that he already knows he won't be able to have the answers to.

"I could as you the same," Geralt replies, looking her up and down, making sure she's not some figment of his imagination. "When did you arrive?"

She shakes her head as if she could shake off the sight of him, much like he is she finds herself questioning if he isn't something her own mind made up - or maybe, there is that old doubt, maybe this is the first sign of her being in an illusion? A flaw, someone being here who shouldn't...

"Several weeks now," she replies, more cautious now, scrutinizing him as if she will find answers if she just looks closely enough. Too bad that's not how magic works, and if she's actually been trapped in an illusion despite her immunity to magic... Well, it would take more than a hard look to break the spell then. "How about you?" Her voice is sharper now as she tries to circle him. "How long have you been here? Have you been watching me?"

Cassandra has spent a great deal of the month out of town with Geralt, and her time away has left her with a bit of a bounce to her step, settled her a little and eased some of the tension in her shoulders (which is in no small part due to her company on the trip). It’s nice to return to Gazin. It’s nice to have the choice. To be able to come and go as she wishes. It’s not something she’ll ever tire of, she thinks.

Not when it’s something that she’s lacked for so long. Not when it’s something that had been taken from her.

No longer.

The woman is unfamiliar, but almost certainly not a local. Not with the way she’s asking around the tavern. Which means she’s a new arrival. Cassandra would approach her, introduce herself, but she’s currently distracted by a man who thinks he is far more charming than he is. And who is refusing to leave her alone. Finishing her drink, she looks at him archly, with cold blue-grey eyes. She is every inch the noblewoman, now, Lady Cassandra Johanna von Musel Klossowski de Rolo to her bones.

“I’ve done my best to be polite,” she tells him. “Thought, perhaps foolishly, that you had any sort of sense at all. Sense enough to understand that ‘I’m not interested’ means exactly that. It seems that was a mistake on my part. A mistake I don’t intend to make again.” She doesn’t allow him a chance to respond. “Even if you were the last man in all of Gazin I would never be interested. I prefer my men to be far more competent and far less annoying.” And far more white-haired, it seems.

She rises from her chair like she’s rising from a throne, plants a hand on his chest and moves him aside, and then she’s moving to the bar for another drink.

Edited 2020-07-09 15:17 (UTC)

Keeping a careful eye on the going-ons in the tavern, Renfri takes notice of the unwelcome attention Cassandra is getting and is just debating whether it's time to involve herself when the woman rebuffs the man quite thoroughly herself.

She's seen enough of such men to know they don't always take rejection well, so her plan remains the same, and she walks over to the bar, keeping an eye on him out of the corner of her eyes.

"Pest control going well?" she asks lightly, then turns the innkeeper to order another beer.

Cassandra huffs in irritation as she orders an ale from the innkeeper. Despite the fact that she appears to be giving the man who had been harassing her no mind, she’s keeping careful track of him; he seems the sort to not take rejection well, and to end up starting something once he’s deeper in his cup. And he looks to be determined to get deeper in his cups, if the way he’s drinking is any indication.

She looks up as someone joins her at the bar, and laughs softly as she’s handed her drink. “Well enough, for the moment,” she retorts with a smirk, before taking a large swig of her drink. “But the night is young.”

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