FreckersFrog

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

Geralt's grin cracked his face as Lucien stepped away and bowed. Though he had been reluctant to let go of his hand, he of anyone appreciated a little showmanship. "I look forward to working with the both of you, it ought to be fun..." His eyes gleamed mischievously as he looked back at Ivory. The look of disdain on her face was clear, but he ignored it. She would come around, eventually.

"Geralt...?" He female voice carried through the room from behind them. Clearly, Mr. Wagner's guest had awoken, and not a second too soon.

He glanced over his shoulder, turning halfway toward the partition to his bedchamber. "Shh, mein kleiner, I'll be back in a moment." He looked back at his guests as they began to move toward the door. "If you'll excuse me..." He paused and tilted his head, "Unless the two of you would like to join us?" He gestured back toward his room, "Plenty of time left in the night for a bit of indulgence, no?" He glanced between them, undressing them both with his eyes.

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

Faolan stomped down the hallways toward the sour smell of the thieves. Their trail would've been hard to follow for any ordinary man, but they didn't have Faolan's nose. He was still limping a little, but it was clear that some of the strength sapped by the silver had returned. They made their way to a lower deck and directly to the doorway of the men's cabin. He didn't think twice before battering it down with his boot.

Faolan stood in the doorway, blocking the inhabitants sight of the hall. His eyes swept the room, seven of them, all caught by surprise. Their cabin smelled of sweat, cigarettes, and stale urine. His nostrils twitched with disgust. He heard them calling out, but barely registered what they were saying. He was about to step forward when Lucien brushed beside him and Faolan glanced down, slightly surprised by his sudden boldness. This item must mean a lot to him, if he was willing to face seven men for its retrieval, especially if he had been planning to come alone.

"See!" One of them shouted in a thick Liverpudlian accent, "I told you the biggun wouldn't flinch at that tiny letter-opener!"

"No, I got 'im, see!" The one who had stabbed Faolan chimed in, "There's blood all over the brute!"

A deep growl issues from Faolan's throat and his eyes flashed with fury as the fell on the man who spoke last. He flinched away, almost as if struck, and took a step back.

The man who had the relic stood, his face purple and both of his blackened eyes nearly swollen shut. "Why don't you come over here and take it from me, poufter!" And spit on the ground again.

Another one spoke up as they all stood, filling the room, "Yeah! You can't take us all, not with a wound like that."

Faolan felt Lucien moved forward to engage, teeth bared and fists clenched, but the man knew that the French lad had no idea how to fight. He hadn't developed enough in his movements to have sure footing or quick enough reflexes. Faolan reached out to stop him, gripping him by the shoulder and stepping forward in his stead.

"You asked for it." He said, and lunged into the group of men standing before him.

Suddenly everything was chaos. There was yelling, growling, grunting, the sounds of pain and fury. Faolan's bulging arms and open hands, poised like claws, slashes through the air with lightning speed. He knocked the first two onto their backs as he entered the frey, but more came to take their place. One man ran from the corner, holding a steel pipe, and hit Faolan as hard as he could across the back with it. The Irishman didn't even flinch. His arm shot out, faster than the eye could follow, grabbed the pipe, and instead of turning the man's weapon against him, Faolan tossed it behind him and it clanged loudly to the floor. Another man lurched forward and punched Faolan in the side, right where he had been stabbed, but he only paused for a moment in pain before backhanding him so hard that he left the ground before crashing into the bunk against the wall.

Blood pounded in Faolan's ears and eyes, and all he saw was flying limbs and red. Adrenaline pumped through him, fueling his swings until he had forgotten why he even came here. He relished in the battle of skin against skin, no dirty tricks to trip him up. They were men, and he was a beast, and he would show them where they stood.

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

Geralt's grin slowly faded as Lucien continued to speak, back to a neutral expression as he listened, lowering his hand when it was clear that Lucien was not going to take it. Inside was a whirlwind of emotion: anger, surprise, arousal, and a desire for vindication...he wanted to lash out, so badly, but as always, he kept himself in check. Part of him so desperately wanted what the voice inside has called for, for them to grovel, fall to their knees and kiss the ring, but the aroused part of him was glad they didn't. The Ringleader was stronger of will than Geralt would have given him credit for during the first leg of their conversation. His calm and kind demeanor had shifted to reveal a savvy business man. Geralt was impressed, to say the least. It seemed these people might just be worth his talents after all.

Ivory's eyes changing color was another interesting development. Geralt glanced at them, but didn't comment or let his gaze linger for too long. He would have to keep an eye on her.

He let the silence hang in the room for a beat, glancing between Lucien's smooth hand and his beautiful golden eyes, before a smile began to creep back. "It is clear that I underestimated you, after all. Clearly, you do take care of your people." Another beat, and then he took and shook Lucien's hand in one swift motion, "Every time you speak, you make it harder to refuse you..." He stepped a little closer, leaving only inches between the two of them as their hands moved slowly and rhythmically through the air, "I respect a man who can stand his ground, but I am looking forward to more...negotiating. It appears, you, sir, have a deal with Geralt the Great." He glanced down at Lucien's lips as he spoke and then back up into his eyes. He wanted this moment to last.

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

Faolan's face twisted into a scowl that could spook the devil himself. He glowered at Lucien, no, through him as he spoke. They did attack them both when they were alone, and weakest in their small minds. They knew Faolan worked during the day and used that opportunity to exploit Lucien's weakness. They were no men, they were animals... no, worse than animals, they were scum.

"As I've counted, you just saved my life. That makes us even." He straightened, stretching his neck, and then strode toward the door. "Come, I know where they are."

He could smell them from here.

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

Geralt frowned noticeably as Lucien remained standing, and furrowed his eyebrows as he continued to speak.

Insults and slander. They need us, we are their savior and they spit at your feet. He should bow before us, grovel.

Geralt's eye twitched slightly and he glanced down and to the right, shaking his head slightly as if trying to clear it of a fog. It was the first time he had broken composure since the two had stepped through his door. He grimaced, but only briefly, before bringing his eyes back up to meet the Ringleader's, as graceful as ever, though his smile had faded to an almost annoyed frown. It was clear he cold control his posture and expression to meet his needs, hardly any emotion the two had seen since arriving had been truly genuine. Although, even Geralt had to admit it was the most he had shown in a long time.

He shook his head, the smile returning, but the light completely gone from his voice when he responded, "No, no...I think you may have misunderstood me." He straightened and walked slowly around the couch to approach his guests, waving his hands to gesticulate his meaning. "Rusty, or not, you need me. If you didn't, why the trouble of searching me out. No, my guess is that you're in trouble, that you're looking for someone to...what did you say before? 'Spice things up'? Well, you've found me." He stretched his arms out at his sides, presenting himself, before letting them fall back to his sides. "I was going to ask for fifty percent, after all, I was pocketing seventy when I had my own show in Paris. But, I'll offer you a deal. Thirty percent of the take, and expenses, and you will have the greatest magician of the age in your troupe." He reached Lucien and held out his left hand to shake, "Take it, or leave it?" he said, with the biggest shit-eating grin he could muster.

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

"Wait." Faolan held up a hand as the boy made to leave. It was clear there was something wrong; Faolan's own wound was not the only danger that floated around in the air. There was something wrong. Lucien's veins were pumping in his neck and chest, Faolan didn't have to know him long to pick that up.

"You said--" He grunted as he stood, pushing off against his knees and coming to a slightly wobbly standing position, "--you needed help with something?" Maybe the same men who had attacked him had done something to the Frenchman. After all, they had waited until they were both alone to strike, it made sense. But he seemed untouched, unharmed. The only blood in the air was Faolan's own, and there were no obvious signs of a struggle aside from a slight rumple of his hair and clothes.

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

"Glad to hear it, Lucien." He crossed his arms over his chest and chuckled a little, "Although, I confess I've gotten rusty. I'll need to...perfect my technique before my first show." He was smiling, but his expression changed quickly as he realized that Lucien and Ivory were about to take their leave. He raised a hand as the man stood, "Oh, I'm not sure we're quite done yet. Although, I do appreciate the directions, there is one final detail I think we need to discuss before I officially join." He paused, then sighed, "I hate to be crass but," he held up two forefingers and a thumb and began to rub them together in the unmistakable universal sign for cash, "What's in it for me?"

Juicy, ripe, soft, sweet...

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

Faolan felt his vision clarifying as two Lucien's became one. This was an uncharacteristically fast reaction to the young man's healing. The last time he had been so much as scratched with a silver blade, he had been laid up for days; intense pain, blurred vision, headaches, vomiting. In the right doses it was fatal to those with Faolan's particular affliction.

"Mm." He grunted as his grip on Lucien's arm slackened. But...how could he? He was just an ordinary sheltered church boy. How know healing magic. Faolan let his hand fall to his side, just below his rib cage, and while the sight of the wound was still sore, he felt no gash where there once was. The side of his shirt was still soaked with blood, as were his hands and one pant leg, but the wound was gone. The pounding in his head was subsiding little-by-little, and if he had a mirror, he would be able to see the black veins on his neck, side, chest, stomach, and arm, all pulling away and fading. It was true...but how?

Faolan shook his head, then nodded toward Lucien's arm, "Sorry, I'm...a little dazed." He rubbed a hand over his face, then gestured toward the blade. "Can you get rid of that? I can't...touch it." Faolan knew what it was like to want to avoid unwanted attention, Lucien's 'healing' was his business and his alone.

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

Geralt couldn't help but tilt his head and raise an eyebrow at Lucien's response. He was definitely the leader of this troupe, his confidence and demeanor told Geralt that much. He would certainly draw the eye of a crowd, he had an abundance of natural charm that seemed to be lacking from most men these days. Geralt more than appreciated someone who could equal him verbally, but it only made him crave Lucien more. He wondered if the Frenchman would be able to equal him in other ways as well.

He leaned back slightly when Lucien finished speaking, "Well, well, well...with words as sweet as those, how could I ever refuse? Although, you know what they say about magic..." Geralt had slowly tilted his head as he spoke, and when he pulled his hand away from the couch, the scarf that had been draped over the lamp before appeared between his fingers as if it had been stuck between the cushions. He took it and stretched it across his chest, then tossed it into the air with a flourish to show that it was, indeed, and ordinary scarf. He then held his hand up, palm open to the ceiling as he glanced at Ivory, then laid the scarf over his palm. "...it's all just a trick..." he continued, and the beneath the scarf a light began to glow, then the scarf began to swell of it's own accord as the light grew brighter and brighter, illuminating the space around Geralt. "...of the light..." He finished, and pulled the scarf from his hand with a quick motion to reveal a handful of fire.

The flames danced against his bare skin, and he held them there as the light shifted around his face and in his eyes, moving his fingers rhythmically with the tendrils of flame. He looked over at Lucien and Ivory, clearly pausing for dramatic effect, before raising his palm to his lips and blowing the flame out. Instead of disappearing, however, it burst into two distinct shapes which fluttered toward the two like butterflies of flame. They split and floated, one toward Lucien, and one toward Ivory, and then folded into smoke and drifted away.

Through this display, Geralt stood behind the couch, unbuttoned shirt and unkempt hair, looking like he belonged on the stage.

"So, what do you think, do I make the cut?" He directed his words and his gaze towards Ivory, curious most to see her reaction to this foreplay.

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

Faolan was in a daze as Lucien knelt beside him. He raised a hand to push the boy's hands away, but didn't have the strength to resist. Every little movement brought the silver closer to his heart, and him closer to paralysis and death. The walk up here had done more than enough damage, and he was growing weaker by the second as the pain increased.

He felt warmth then, which at first was soothing. Instinctively, he tried to relax his muscles to make the healing process easier, but a burst of agony caused them to tense again. White hot pain erupted from the wound, and he could feel the toxin begin pulled from his veins. The pain was immense, strong enough to cause him to growl deep in his throat. His hand shot down to grip the frame of his cot and his arm began to shake with the effort of staying quiet. Sweat dripped from his skin, and his legs were shaking. His vision blurred, and he felt like the pain would never end.

And then, suddenly, it ended. He heard faintly the clang of the knife as it fell to the floor and he blinked to clear the fog from his eyes. He had been wheezing, but he fought to return his breathing to normal. After a moment, he felt his strength returning, but he was still a bit wobbly.

At Lucien's question, he shook his head. "Silver." He kicked the blade away from him and it skittered across the wooden floor. "Throw it overboard." He nodded toward the blade and clutched his side. He was sore, but the pain had subsided and he felt his focus returning. Whatever the boy had done, it had neutralized the poison.

As Lucien moved passed him to retrieve the blade and follow his instructions, Faolan's hand shot out, still stained with a mixture of soot and his own blood, "What did you do?" Both his grip and his voice were intense, and his green eyes blazed as he looked up at the Frenchman for once.