FreckersFrog

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

The Irishman had heard every word, but had nothing to say. Despite Lucien's pleading, Faolan knew the only way to keep him safe would be to go off on his own again. This was why he had avoided companions in the first place. For so long he had been alone, wandering, with no home and no one to call family, no one to love him and no one to be loved, but this had been by choice. It hadn't been hard for him, once he had gotten used to being alone all the time. He liked it, in fact. He had no one to hold him accountable, no one to question or pester him, no one to watch his every move and no one to share his thoughts with. It figured that the first time he assented to sharing his life on the road this would happen. He could not, no, he would not allow Lucien to be hurt because of his recklessness. He could not have any more of the Frenchman's blood on his hands.

Faolan was forced to stop as Lucien made his way in front of him, not feeling strong enough to work his way around, and not being able to stomach the thought of touching him. The last time he had touched him, he had nearly torn the boy's leg off.

"No, it won't!" He screamed, looking down into Lucien's face, furious. "I could have killed you, don't you understand that!? I can't do this, I can't let it happen again." His words were forceful and firm, as he stared into the Frenchman's golden eyes, he felt what little of the strength he had leave his body. He deflated, his shoulder's slumped and his bag slid off of his back and onto the ground with a quiet thud. He let his chin fall and his eyes focused on the ground, his legs gave way and he slid to his knees before Lucien, completely and utterly drained.

Images of his family's faces, his ma, his pa, Fiona, his little sis...they rifled through his brain like a slideshow. For a moment, all he could see was them, living and happy, cleaning the kitchen or chopping wood or chasing chickens in the yard. Laughing, eating, holding hands...

"I didn't want you to see me like that." He said, his voice low as he looked up at Lucien for the first time.
"That beast, it's not...it isn't me. Not really."

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

Geralt raised his eyebrows at the revelation that the girl was Illyana. He was surprised, but now the expression made much more sense. He had hardly noticed a twitch in the young woman after she had refused to shake hands. Although, he was sure she had dark hair...but, ah, this made sense. She was not a gypsy at all, her whole outfit, her hair, the makeup, it was all a ruse. He should have known when he detected no hint of a Romani accent in her speech. He wondered if the entirety of her act was just as fake...but, no, Lucien would never employ a regular human for a job in his Circus, it just didn't make sense.

The comment about the tall redheaded male figure made Geralt's heart leap with anticipation. So, there was more to this story that Lucien was not comfortable sharing just yet...this intrigued him greatly, especially considering the stern tone the ringleader had taken on when he said it. He couldn't blame him if this was personal, the two had only just met, but Geralt burned with so many desires for the Frenchman that he was having a hard time keeping track of them all.

He was about to speak again, but held his tongue when Lucien continued. He listened well, nodding here and there, and tilting his head in the posture of someone interested. He sipped his wine down to its last dregs, then nodded one final time before answering, "Oh, I completely understand, and no offence taken. I do apologize for my...proximity, let's say, with Miss Cora. She is just a dish...and I must admit, I do have a hard time controlling myself around beautiful things..." he said, finishing off his wine and giving Lucien a sly glance. He set his glass down on the desk, then held up a hand, his heels together and his back straight, "Right hand to the Lord, I promise to watch myself around your performers." He relaxed, then chuckled, "Well, my co-performers, I should say."

Lucien's protective instinct was not surprising to Geralt, in fact, he had expected such a comment to come at him at one time or another. He did not think it would be this soon, of course, but Cora had been a special case. Despite her age, he was sure she still had some learning to do about the world around her. She and Akane exuded and innocence that was, well, interesting, to say the least. If Lucien's warning did anything, it also informed Geralt that Cora was in fact the weakest of his troupe, and the most prone to manipulation. This was good news, in his opinion, and fueled his ego as well, as his guess had been correct about their little Siren.

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

"Nothing happened?" Faolan snapped, the muscles in his back tensing beneath his shirt as he spoke. His fists and jaw were clenched so tightly that it was beginning to cause him pain. When he couldn't bare it anymore, the fury inside him boiled over and he whirled on Lucien, suddenly and violently.

"What do you call that!?" He asked, his voice louder than he had ever used with Lucien. He could see the Frenchman's face now, and it was all he could do to not turn and take his fury out on the tree trunk behind him. "What if I had aimed a little higher, huh? Maybe there?" He asked, pointing to Lucien's midsection. "Would you have been able to heal yourself with your guts spilled out in the dirt!?" He took a step forward without realizing it, and nodded toward's Lucien's throat, "What about there, how would you have stitched together a torn esophagus!?"

Lucien flinched as Faolan turned on him, his back against the tree. His eyes darted around the clearing, clearly flustered by this sudden line of questioning, "I-I...it--"

"You don't know, do you!?" Faolan screamed, interrupting the Frenchman, taking another step closer. "I told you, I said, it would only be a matter of time before you found the thing that got you...well," he paused, then held out his arms, "Here I am."

He stopped there, three or four paces from Lucien, his chest heaving in anger, his face flushed under the filth that streaked it, and his eyes wild. Imagining what could have happened to the lad, it made him sick to his stomach.

The following silence hung in the air for a moment, and then Faolan turned on his heel again, stumbling slightly as he made his way back to his bag. "It's too dangerous." he said, finally back at his normal tone. He crouched to pick the bag up, then straightened, "I'm too dangerous." He said, his back to Lucien, his head turned only slightly so he could see the Frenchman out of the corner of his eye. "I never should have let you come along with me." He slung his bag over his shoulder, then made to take a step forward.

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

"Well, I can't fault him for that. If I make him, or anyone else for that matter, uncomfortable you make sure they let you know so you can tell me. I know that my..." he paused a moment, as if struggling to find the word, then gestured toward himself when he found it, "presence...can be a bit overwhelming at times." Though he was attempting to be humble, his usual grin never faltered.

After a beat, he looked over his shoulder once more at the drawing, smiling as if a fond memory had popped into his head. It was clear that Lucien was avoiding the question, but that only made his desire for answers stronger. He was foolishly polite, so much fun to play with. "And the other two?" He asked, turning fully to gesture toward the two redheads on the page. "Clearly, this one is you, it's too handsome to deny," he paused a moment, then turned back again, "And Aurel is easy to spot, with all of that hair. But the other two, it's not anyone here now, is it? Although, I suppose the red-head could be Akane?" He had briefly compared the drawing to the group photo and was sure it was not the pair of acrobats, they were much to compact to be the taller one, and the woman had dark hair in the photo. He didn't think of the fire dancer right away when he saw the picture, the figure in this depiction was wearing a hat and had a little line on her face that looked almost like a frown. No, it was definitely not the bubbly Japanese girl. In fact, both of the redheads looked upset, to a degree. He wondered if they may be related in some way.

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

Faolan grunted again, a little more forcefully this time, but was quiet again. After a moment, he leaned forward and stood before walking a few steps to the bag Lucien had indicated on the ground. He was still a bit wobbly, but a majority of the pain had subsided and he was now able to walk without getting lightheaded, at the very least. He crouched in front of it, then pulled a pair of pants and belt from its depths. He stood again and began to dress, his back to Lucien.

After another moment he said, "You shouldn't be here." That rage that he was keeping hidden under his weakened exterior was building, slowly, but enough. Soon, he wasn't sure if he would be able to hold it back. He wasn't even sure why he was trying to, at this point. He had told Lucien to go, to leave him alone, and the Frenchman stayed. He put himself in harm's way for no sane reason. And the things that he must have seen...Faolan never wanted anyone to have to see that again, least of all Lucien. He felt embarrassed, ashamed, dirty. He couldn't even look at him.

"I told you to leave me." He said, finally. "I told you to go...and you didn't, and look what happened." The tone of his gravelly voice grew harder and louder with each word. He pulled his shirt over his head, but still faced away from Lucien as he stood there, fist's clenched and teeth grinding.

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

Geralt simply nodded at Lucien's words, then held up his glass in a mock toast, "I'll drink to that." he said, then took a larger swig out of the glass. "Mm..." he began again, wine still filling his mouth. He swallowed, then continued, "Speaking of which, I do apologize for that comment about your accent earlier. It really is impeccable, I just noticed that young Aurel was a little...shy, so I was trying to lighten the mood a bit." He paused a moment, then looked over his shoulder at the board behind him. "The two of you have known each other a while, I imagine, from the look of this portrait." This was not a question, as the statement was obviously true. Geralt was simply taking this opportunity to learn as much as he could about the ringleader. He doubted he had much time too, although, it would not be the first time he had been wrong about someone's intentions when they had asked him into their living space.

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

Faolan merely grunted at Lucien's indication but did not look up or interact further. He simply sat resting his forehead against the heel of his palm, and let the silence hang over the two of them for a solid ten minutes while he regained his strength. These moments did him good, as he felt the head and muscle aches subsiding and the rock in his stomach growing more and more bearable with each passing second. He had never had a companion nearby for this process...it was strange, but also a quiet rage bubbled inside of him. He didn't know what to say to Lucien for a long time, as thoughts swirled about his head, memories from the night before. It was all a maze of interconnected images that flashed behind his eyelids with no sequence. It was a collage, not a timeline, and it was hard to decipher.

After a while, when he was feeling more or less himself, he let some words escape him but did not look up. "What are you doing here?" It was all he could manage at the moment, the only thing he could say that would not come out as a roar.

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

Faolan let a wave of dizzyness and nausea pass over him, steadying himself by pressing his back into the bark of the tree. It was rough, but it helped to ground him. Once it was over and he felt his vision had clarified, he opened his eyes to see Lucien approaching him.

He looked up at the lad, and relief washed over him for a moment when he realized Lucien was unharmed. This calming effect was quickly replaced by anger when he saw the state of the Frenchman's pant leg, which had been torn nearly to shreds by what appeared to be long, thick claws.

"No!" He barked, his voice breaking as he looked up at Lucien with furrowed brow. For a moment, he had no idea what to say, and then weakly added, "Stay away..." he lowered his gaze to look at the ground and focused on breathing, counting the seconds between each breath. He could feel himself evening out as everything began to slowly stop spinning. He just needed another moment, and he thought he would be able to walk.

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

Geralt nodded, raising his glass and tilting it to look at the color, before swirling it once again. "That I do," he agreed, "Although, its more of a hobby than anything." Prohibition had really been what had started Geralt's interest in alcohol of all types. He had always been a drinker, but since the early 20s he had been especially fond of speakeasies, and in fact had spent a majority of his time in them over the last ten or so years. He had been born to be a rule breaker, so when he heard the alcohol had been outlawed, he simply could not help himself.

Geralt turned back to the board as Lucien answered his question. He let his eyes linger on the photos for a moment; one was a group photo of the troupe, as he had thought, plus two extras whom he hadn't met. The others were stills of trailers, grounds, the circus' sign. Then he let his eyes move to the drawing he had seen. He moved a corner of the envelope to get a look at the whole thing, and saw Aurel's name signed in cursive in the bottom corner. So, it seemed the boy had been here since he was young. Or, at least Geralt hoped so by the state of the art. There were four figures, Aurel himself was easy to spot as he had long, light colored hair. The other was undoubtedly Lucien, a medium height person with shaggy black locks. The other two were unrecognizable, the smallest and largest figures, and both were red-heads. While the figures themselves seemed to be the work of a pre-pubescent child, the background was actually quite good and may have been beyond a child of 9 or 10 as he had originally thought. It was clear where the artist's focus was as the trees, grass, flowers, and even the birds were well-defined.

He raised an eyebrow at Lucien's question, then turned back around. His answer had been slightly intriguing as well, but proved nothing that Geralt didn't know already. He had either left France when he was an infant, or did not look as old as he actually was. Judging by the fact that he was clearly a creature of divinity, and knew the flavor of wine, Geralt guessed the latter.

He turned around at Lucien's question and leaned against the desk with his ankles and arms crossed. "Oh, me? I left Germany when I was still a teenager, it's been...well, a long time." He took another sip of wine before adding, "I'm glad to hear you got out of Bordeaux before the war, of course. Even more so that you harbor no ill will towards die Deutschen, not all of us are...sympathetic to the cause. Nasty business, all of that, made me ashamed to call myself a German." He said, and he meant it. Geralt had never had a fondness for war, senseless violence over boarders and territory. It was pointless bloodshed, and he wanted no part in it.

More souls for the Lord, more dirty nasty sinners to tear and consume... Geralt's lower left eyelid twitched, but only slightly.

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

A couple of hours passed. The sun made its slow crawling arc through the sky, and the small animals and birds that had once retreated the area gradually began to return. Sounds and evidence of life slowly crept back into the woods, and Faolan began to stir.

The sun had cut a beam straight through a part in the canopy above to land on his dirt-caked face. His eyes slowly fluttered open and he grimaced as the sun blinded him momentarily. For a few minutes, he simply lay there as his eyes and body adjusted to his new, well, his original form. Doing this every night had made him used to waking up like this, so there was no urgency in him as he slowly forced himself to consciousness.

His entire body ached. His muscles screamed when he attempted to move them so he could lift himself from the ground. He tasted blood and dirt, and his tongue was raw from licking rough hide, his jaw creaked from crushing bone, his fingers were stiff from tearing and shredding flesh.

After he felt a little stronger, he slowly pushed himself up to his knees. He was naked, which was no surprise, but he felt cloth slide off his back as he moved. At first, this did not bother him as he took a mental and physical inventory of his body. Despite the pain, there appeared to be no major injuries. He had completely healed, but he was exhausted. He spit into his hands, which were stained with blood, and found that even his saliva was red. He needed to find a stream somewhere to rinse himself.

He braced himself against the ground and slowly tried to rise to a standing position, but his calves gave out after just a moment. He was too weak now, he would have to wait.

That was when his mind drifted to Lucien. Where had he left the lad this time? As he sunk back to the ground, he through out an arm to steady himself and felt the cloth beneath it. Slowly, his fingers closed on it and he pulled it around to his face so he could see. It was a shirt...his shirt, totally intact with just a bit of dirt on it from where he had picked it up. It was not ripped and barely stained...there was no way he had been wearing this when he changed. But, if so...how did it get here?

And then he remembered. Everything came flooding back all at once, and suddenly his heart was pounding so hard in his chest that he thought it would burst. "Lucien." he said to himself, his eyes wild as he forced himself to stand. He cried out in pain as he staggered forward, the shirt clutched in his hand. He took one step forward, and his eyes fell on him.

He was here, sleeping against a tree. But how, it was impossible...impossible unless...

"Lucien!?" he called in a raspy, cracked voice. He felt fury, worry, confusion all swirling within him. If he was here, that means he had seen, he knew...had he been hurt? Images, memories, flashed through Faolan's brain and he closed his eyes and clutched his forehead as a headache struck him. It was all too much. He was dizzy and dehydrated and exhausted...he sunk to the ground once more, crashing into a sitting position as he slid himself backward to put his back against a tree.