FreckersFrog

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

Geralt's expression hardly changed as he listened to Lucien's pitch. Aside from the twitch of an eyebrow here, and the slight widening of his smile there, he was extremely hard to read. This had come from years of practice. After all, mystery was a major part of his act, and over the years he had made this act not only his profession, but a facet of his everyday life. It was must easier to get by as a charming ghost, with no attachments, there were no interpersonal troubles. He had lived this way for nearly two decades, and he wasn't about to stop now just because a divine being and his vampiric assistant had walked through his door.

He had to admit though, the offer was getting more tempting by the second. He felt himself drawn to the man before him on more than a physical level. He wanted him, yes, but he kept adding more and more to the pile, and greed had always been a weakness for him. The compliments were helping as well; though Geralt heard them often, it was nice to hear them issue from such sweet lips as these.

It had to be a seer of some kind that had located him, this was confirmed by Lucien's deft dodging of the subject. Geralt had met a gypsy woman some years back that read bones, but the technique was vague at best. Their psychic had to be better than her if they were able to locate him, there were more than physical barriers to protect him from prying eyes.

Hhhmmm yesssss...more of them lurking, hiding in plain sight. A buffet of souls, all beholden to our power.

Geralt's eyebrows raised at the mention of some display, and he watched with vague interest as Ivory formed the knife in her hand. Now that was something that he had never seen before, and a twitch of his lips betrayed his interest. He was completely still as she flung the knife and felt it whip passed his cheek, keeping his composure without even having to try. They wouldn't come here to ask him to join them if they planned on hurting him. Even he couldn't deny that this was quite the skill. In addition to having vampiric blood, it seemed this girl had more tricks up her sleeve. His eyes followed the blade as it drifted back to its owner's hand and came to rest on her. Now she had his attention.

"It's a rental," he said in response to Ivory's apology, his voice as flat as his eyes. After a beat, he took another sip from his glass and shrugged in mock-defeat. "I must say, that was impressive, and unexpected. I don't think I've met anyone quite like the two of you before..." He tilted his glass back and downed the rest of the wine in one fluid gulp, then placed the empty glass on the table as he stood.

He laced his fingers together and began to pace the room, clearly lost in thought. "Circus of Stars, indeed...And you say there are more 'like you' there, is that right?" he turned back to face Lucien and Ivory, "I must confess, I'm not sure I would fit in among performers of your caliber. A simple stage magician can't be in high demand when you can do, well, God knows what else with your other members..." He made his way around to the back of the couch and leaned forward on it, his devious smile returning "Tell me, do I live up to the rumors? This can't be what you expected." He raised his arms briefly to gesture to the inside of the room and himself, then leaned froward and looked between the two of them as he awaited their response.

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

Geralt's eyebrows raised at the girl's sudden interruption, and he turned his gaze toward her almost lazily. He liked her more every minute, and how had he not noticed how particularly attractive she was. Despite her shockingly white hair, her skin was flawless and her eyes were piercing. His 'friend' had been right after all, she smelled like a vampire, and she probably tasted like one too. He looked her up and down as she spoke, noticing her choice of words with a twitch of his brow.

But it was Lucien who drew his attention once again. His voice was just as beautiful and light as his face...divine indeed. He let him speak for as long as he needed to. His curiosity was certainly piqued.

A circus? Now that was interesting, especially considering the menagerie that sat before him. He wasn't aware that his name was treated with any real weight any more. He hadn't practiced in ages, and since then he had been...well, celebrating in relative singularity. The fact that these two had suddenly waltzed into his life proved two facts to him: these people were desperate and far from ordinary.

There had to be more like him, Lucien, back with this 'troupe'. If they managed to house such a divine creature as this, what other obscurities could be lurking there. This intrigued him, but he hesitated.

"Well, a proposal so soon, we've only just met. Although, I do appreciate the confidence." He gave Ivory another glance as he retrieved his glass and swirled it once more, letting his eyes fall to the nectar inside as he spoke. "You've certainly done your homework, and legwork for that matter. I am not an easy man to track down...and your willingness to accept me as this 'Geralt the Great' is a bit curious. As I understand it, the artist on the poster didn't do me any justice." He sipped from his glass again and tilted his head back as he leaned into the couch once more, "Tell me, if you would, how exactly you found me? A man has this right to privacy, among other things." His gaze had neutralized to roll in between his two guests now. Even if he was half interested, he wasn't about to make it easy for them.

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

Faolan has made a slow and steady trek back up to the cabins, holding his side and limping slightly. He needed privacy, and this was the only place he could get it. He'd entered the room and noticed Lucien wasn't there, even better, no need to worry the pup.

He'd taken a seat on his cot, bent over and breathing heavily, and that is how Lucien had found him. He turned his soot-coated and sweat-stained face toward Lucien as he registered his voice, his brow furrowed and his eyes half-shut as his pulse throbbed.

"Mm...what happened?" He grunted and winced, then looked down at the hand that was still clutching his side. A pool of dark red blood had begun to seep and drip through his fingers and stain his already filthy shirt. He pulled his hand away, revealing the shiny end of the broken blade that had punctured him.

He'd been at a hard day's work in the engine room, shoveling coal for four hours with the other boys. He had hardly tired by the time he could take a break. Four of the men had already passed out from inhaling the fumes, and had been taken away on stretchers to the infirmary. He had shoveled twice as fast, and barely showed signs of stopping when his shift lead told him to drink some water. He was dripping in sweat, covered in black soot, and heaving for air, but felt good. It was nice for him to have his body working, it took his mind off of the oppressive space he had been forced to call home.

He was sitting on a crate, alone, splashing his face and drinking from a pale of fresh water when two men entered the space. He recognized them instantly, both by stature and smell. They were two of the men from the deck on the day the ship had taken off, the ones who had attacked Lucien. He stood immediately, and was about to warn them when the first lunged at him. His hand came up to stop the punch the man was throwing, and he paused, for just a moment before breaking his arm.

It was during this pause that a sharp ringing pain shot from his side, up to his shoulder and into his brain. He howled in pain, and twisted around to face the man. He'd been stabbed, which normally wouldn't have been a problem, his skin was tougher than most blades. That was excluding silver ones, which this shooting pain told him was the case.

He caught the second man by the throat, squeezed and tossed him aside like a rag-doll. This would have killed the man, if Faolan's strength hadn't immediately been sapped by the silver's contact with his blood. He whirled around again as the second man turned and fled, clutching his wrist, and called out to his friend. By the time Faolan turned again, both had run back up the stairs and out of sight. He reached for the blade and found nothing, and the clatter of metal brought his eyes to the floor. The handle of the knife, a tiny letter-opener, lay at his feet.

From here, he'd limped to his cabin, clutching his side and fading in and out of focus. The pain was immense, and it was spreading to his legs and his other arm now. Adrenaline pumped his blood through his body, carrying the silver's deadly toxins towards his heart. He needed this blade out, but there was no bit of it that he could reach without cutting into himself, and for that he needed his bag.

It was in this state that Lucien found him, blinking hard and sweating, with black veins stretching up from under his collar and onto his neck.

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

Geralt nodded and tilted his glass toward Lucien at his compliment, then sipped again as he continued to speak. "Ah, Bordeaux...I must say, I agree. Your Cabernet's are just...divine." He licked his lips and let a small pause fill the room. He didn't have to look at the girl, Ivory, to know that she was staring daggers at him. He didn't mind, he was used to women reacting this way to him when his attention was elsewhere.

"And thank you, by the way. I spent quite a bit of time in Paris perfecting my...technique." It was clear that Geralt knew how to choose his words carefully and all without tipping his hand. He leaned forward, placing an elbow on his knee and setting the glass on the table in front of him before relaxing again, "But, tell me, how did your parents decide on that name? Latin, for 'light'. Catholic, I'd imagine, but they went with a risk, naming you something so similar to, well, the Devil himself." He leaned his chin on his fist and stared deep into Lucien's eyes.

Yes, taint and twist. Turn light to dark, virtue into sin. Make dirty what once was pure. Make him filthy and unclean.

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

It was Geralt's turn to raise his eyebrows. These days it took much to surprise him, but this was more of a knowing nod. These people clearly knew who they were looking for. They were not solicitors or zealots or auditors, they were something else. An entirely different breed.

Soft and juicy insides this one has, like a perfectly ripe white peach. He'd taste divine...

He seated himself lightly on the couch behind him, stretching out on it and crossing one leg over the other. "Hhm, you know your Deutsche, and with a strong strong accent. Je suis impressionné," Geralt said in perfect French, though his accent reflected a more northern lilt. He swirled his own glass, all but forgetting that there were three of them in the room. He had eyes only for Lucien.

"Your name though, that's interesting. Latin...what part of France are you from exactly? I couldn't have been too far off.." His eyes slid over Lucien's body and he recrossed his legs as the tilted the wine glass against his lips and took a sip, doing nothing to hide his interest.

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

Faolan simply grunted again and breathed out hard through his nose at the question, slightly turning his head away as the ship's horn blasted for it's third and final time. "Nothin' left for me here. Thought I might fair better in the states. Big, open spaces..." He let his fingers slide from the rail and leaned away as he felt the rumble of the engines and watched steam belch into the sky. "I'm not much one for stickin' around places, anyway." This much was certainly true. Even if he was land-locked for a time, Faolan never stayed too close to the same city for more then a month. There were usually...extenuating circumstances.

There was another pause in their conversation as the sea air whipped around their faces and shoulders, pulling Faolan's long hair in all different directions. "Well, we better head below 'fore they come and make us."

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

"Suit yourself," He said with a shrug as he looked over his shoulder at Ivory.

When Geralt reached the cabinet, he bent down to grab a bottle and two glasses, then paused, "Red or white?" He asked, then shook his head and chuckled to himself. "Don't answer that, I have just the thing." He reached inside of the cabinet, pulled a bottle and stood as he inspected the label. He nodded, apparently satisfied, uncorked the wine, smelled and poured it. It was a deep red, slightly thick, and the smell of black cherry wafted from the open neck. When a healthy pour was complete, he turned on his heel and approached his guests once more with the devilish smile.

He extended a glass out to Lucien, making eye contact as he handed it over, "It's a Côte Rôtie, not exactly right, but close enough, wouldn't you think?" Although the man's accent was so slight, almost unnoticeable to an untrained ear, to Geralt it was unmistakably French, most likely Southern. He hadn't gotten as far as he had by being wrong about these things, although it was rare that he was wrong, it wasn't impossible. He thought it unlikely in this particular circumstance.

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

Faolan had guessed correctly after all, but he was surprised to learn the boy was Catholic after all. Maybe the Irish didn't trust French churches, that he could understand. If this was true, however, that the boy had been cloistered his whole life, the two men were almost complete opposites. Faolan had spent his entire adult life outdoors, and most of his childhood as well. He had grown up on a farm, learning to fend for himself from an early age. His home was the field and the forest, it didn't necessarily matter where exactly the greenery was located.

Faolan felt a pang of disappointment for the boy. A sheltered life was no life at all...perhaps that's why he was leaving. Maybe this was some form of escape? Faolan could relate if so. He grunted, his eyes rolling to land on the boy at his shoulder, "Didn't mean any offence. Just...you don't hide it well." Although, he was curious, "They keep you locked up or something?"

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

Mmmm and French, too...Geralt's eyes only briefly flashed to the girl as she entered the room after Lucien. Spicy-sweet that one...dangerous...tainted. Not like the other one, not like the pure cool wind...

"Lucien and Ivory, a pleasure..." He said as they entered and he closed the door behind him, plunging them into dusk once more. He was right, there was something about this man, something white and pure and...almost holy about him. Geralt licked his lips.

He was almost staring again when his attention was caught by the young man's voice. "Hm?" He glanced toward the opening int the partition and into his own bedroom, and then let his eyes fall on Lucien once more. He chuckled absently and approached the partition of frosted glass and wood, "Oh, no need for apologies, this is just as good a time as any." He slid the door shut, well, mostly shut, and motioned to two chairs across from the couch before him. "Please, sit, take a moment...Hell, have three." A smirk flashed once more as his eyes darted from the girl and back again, this time showing the pear-white of his canine.

He turned to the side of the room with the lamp, and lit it. His arm, hand and fingers moved with with stride as he approached it, full of grace. He took a matchbook from the side-table, plucked a match and struck it, then removed the scarf with nearly a flourish, before lowering the match and lighting the wick. He turned the dial on the side until the room was dim, rather than dark, then turned back to his guests as his smooth voice dripped from his lips once more, the match-light flickering between his fingers. "Can I get either of you something to drink? Wine, Scotch, Absinthe?" His eyes rolled towards Ivory, "A nice dark red, perhaps?" With one fluid flick, the match was out. He dropped it into a waste-bin as he strode across the room once more to a small cabinet against the wall.

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

+Name = Geralt Wagner
+Race = Human
+Age = 67 years (Appears early-mid 20s)
+Brithday = July 15, 1868
+Height/Weight = 6'/161 lbs
+Nationality = German
+Languages Known = German // English // French // Italian // Polish
+Appearance = Short dark brown hair, long on top with shaved sides // Dark Brown Eyes // Tall & Lithe // Graceful & Confidant // Fine Clothes, usually a black & white suit or vest (no tie)

Young Geralt
Clothing Ref
+Position = Le Magicien
+Abilities = Unnaturally Long Life // Fast reflexes & Inhuman Dexterity // Illusionist // Hypnotism // Mind-Reading // Teleportation // Levitation
Distinguishing Features/Marks = Empty eyes // Black burn mark/brand on inner left forearm

+Background = Listen to This