[It had been an awkward few weeks here for Felix as he kept to himself and tried to adjust to the little town of Hawkins, Indiana of the planet Earth. A planet he'd never actually been to in all honesty and now here he was, in the past, with nothing to his name, not even a birth record because he wasn't born yet. Or on this planet for that matter.
He kept a running tally of supplies he either pilfered or worked discreetly for and stayed hidden while he devised a plan to get himself situated. Creating a life from scratch was no easy feat, but this was not necessarily the first time Felix had had to do it. Point in case: he still went by a moniker rather than his given birth name.
Felix kept to himself by camping in the woods on the outskirts of town. It wasn't that hard for a survivalist like himself. He'd had worse situations while in the war and this was fine living by comparison to some months of that heinous conflict. The problem came when the rumors began to circulate. A small, podunk town like this spread rumors like wildfire to alleviate the boredom. It didn't take long for it to become the talk of the town: the monster in the woods. Some called it a ghost, others a shadowy beast.
The rumors were more lighthearted than the ones that circulated about murder and mayhem, hell and it's minions, but due to past events in the town's history the government authorities weren't taking it lightly. Felix had been avoiding the government agents for the past week now. They were bumbling fools compared to him and his military training in espionage and survival skills. He out-maneuvered them at every corner. It was almost laughable. If it hadn't been so annoying.
This evening as the sun began to sling low on the horizon and the shadows grew dark in between the trees, Felix heard them long before they got close. He'd set up alert-traps and at least one of them had gone off, making an awful amount of racket to inform him that he had visitors. He didn't like visitors. He gathered his things, put out his campfire, and disappeared into the shadows.
By the time the teenagers got to the encampment it simply looked like an abandoned campsite. The ashes of the fire were smoldering but only if one looked carefully enough to notice the dousing dirt was recently placed. The smell was impossible to get rid of on quick notice though. Felix was gone, out of sight, never to be found--but not far off. He watched as his campsite was set upon and his eyes settled on one figure in particular leading the tiny little pack.]
( it’s as if steve blinked and found himself in hawkins again — actually, no, that’s exactly what happened. one moment he was moping around the ship and the next he was staring down at nancy in his arms as she woke from her vecna trance.
the exact moment he’d left.
he’s lucky no one finds his over-the-top joy at nancy’s return to consciousness odd. to them, he’s appropriately relieved that she’s okay. they have no idea he hasn’t seen any of them for months with no hope of ever seeing them again.
the next moments are a whirlwind. he sits rigidly next to eddie on the couch as nancy recounts her experience with vecna. they steal some poor couple's winnebago. they head to the war zone to buy guns and clothes and whatever else they need for this half-baked plan. steve's thoughts undulate between two things the entire drive — that they have to do better this time, and that he needs to talk to eddie alone. he hasn't picked up on any cues that this is his eddie, but that might not mean anything. or it might mean everything.
when they reach their destination, it occurs to steve that this might be the only chance he really has to be alone with eddie, so when the others try to drag him in, too, he staunchly refuses with a sweeping gesture from his head to his toes. )
You think I can go in there looking like this? Come on. Just grab me some shoes, alright? ( he’s actually pretty sure a place like the war zone doesn’t give two shits if you walk in barefoot and shirtless, but that doesn't matter. he makes sure everyone’s out of the winnebago and the door is shut tight before he finally spins around to face eddie.
he doesn’t say anything at first, not as he slides into one of the seats across from eddie. he doesn’t know what to say. )
Hey. Um. You holding up okay? ( is what he ends up going with, but the look on his face says something more like please say you remember. please tell me you made it back, too. )
Hey champ. I know you're still thinking through the whole college thing. As an alumni that has donated enough to MIT for them to let me name a project B.A.R.F., I wanted to remind you that it's an option and the deadline for applications is Friday.
No pressure, though. Does that feel like pressure? NYU is great too. They have a garden named after my mother. She was into horticulture.
He might very well be the new king of Redania (all hail, long live, etc etc), but they tell him very little. He's a figurehead at best, a puppet at worst, and neither of these parts require actual knowledge of what goes on in his new kingdom. He realizes that, he thinks, better than Vizimir ever did, how little power he actually has, despite his name being on the banners and the treaties. Philippa and Dijkstra hold the reins and they allow him to live, stern-faced on the paintings and smiling at court, and alone, alone, always alone, as long as he doesn't give them any trouble. He's been much too scared to step out of line so far, the memory of his brother's blood dripping from the crown and into his hair too fresh in his memory. But today, he will.
He hears about it because Philippa and Dijkstra are away for a few days, brokering whatever arrangement they feel is necessary at the Northern border of Redania. They didn't need him to be there and left him at the castle, to wander the halls and listen in on guards talking excitedly about a skirmish that happened in the forest. The witcher, they say, and it certainly gets Radovid's attention. The white wolf. He escaped, but we got his bard. Keeping him in the dungeon. He might know something, Dijkstra'll want to see him.
Radovid can barely stop himself from running all the way back up to his rooms, standing in front of the fire with his fists clenched tightly. Jaskier. A prisoner in his castle. A shiver of cool dread goes down his spine, making his stomach knot and his throat close up. He's too aware of how, exactly, Dijkstra gets information from people. To let Jaskier suffer through that, is unthinkable. He's also aware that doing what he's about to do will most likely get him into a lot of trouble.
At nightfall, he slips out of his rooms. He has to wait until the guard there leaves to have his dinner, soon to be replaced by another. While they both chat and joke on the stairs there is a minute when the corridor is empty, and Radovid knows that this is his window. He's never done this before, but he's certainly thought about it. From there, he knows the castle well-enough to make his way to the dungeons undetected, keeping to the shadows, the less-used corridors. It helps that all the guards are staring anxiously at the southern border of the city (they say that's where Emhyr will attack, when he does), and not actually at the inside of the castle.
He stole a set of keys for most of the locks in the castle a while ago and clutches them tightly as he goes down, down, and down to the basement of the dungeon, where the cells are. Most of them are empty and he has to make his way to the very back before he finds one that's closed. On the table next to it is Jaskier's lute, a little worse for wear, and a blue doublet that's seen better days.
"Jaskier?" he whispers, as loud as he dares. In the dim light he's only a backlit hooded figure, golden hair tucked behind his ears, eyes sharp in the gloom.
( it was an opportunity that eddie couldn't pass up. getting out of hawkins was his number one priority since he was old enough to realize the rest of the folk in this place would love to see him fail. maybe waiting on tables for the rich and famous wasn't the most metal career path in the world, but it paid absurdly well, and there were enough chances for eddie to stretch his musical fingers and hope that maybe, one day, someone will notice him.
plus, this meant getting out of america for a bit. only wayne knows where he is, which means no impromptu calls from his old man. the language barrier does mean that it's a little more challenging to make friends with the locals, but not impossible. he's even learned a few essential phrases in thai — enough to get him in good graces with shopkeepers and bartenders where eddie spends most of his off-time.
the white lotus. so long as eddie does all his assigned duties and nails his scheduled performance, fabian doesn't give a shit what he does on his aforementioned off-time. another boat full of guests has just arrived, and eddie puts on his most charming smile, hoping whatever guest family he's being whored off to this week is closer in age to him. fabian must have it out for him, based on the number of older bridge partners and families with small children who end up on eddie's list. he stands up straight, trying to nonchalantly get a glimpse at the next family when he hears fabian say his name. ah, another family...but with a son around his age. said son looks bored out of his mind, but that could just be eddie's imagination. given how much of a pain in the ass it is for anyone to get to this hellhole of a resort, he can't exactly blame the guy for looking so miserable. it's no problem for eddie, he'll just have to —
before he can even open his mouth, the man (his father?) addresses eddie in a manner that makes eddie's blood run cold. not that eddie should be so surprised. he knows this guy's type all too well. old money: anyone in the service industry is automatically beneath him.
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Steve and Felix Ximilia Continuation AU
He kept a running tally of supplies he either pilfered or worked discreetly for and stayed hidden while he devised a plan to get himself situated. Creating a life from scratch was no easy feat, but this was not necessarily the first time Felix had had to do it. Point in case: he still went by a moniker rather than his given birth name.
Felix kept to himself by camping in the woods on the outskirts of town. It wasn't that hard for a survivalist like himself. He'd had worse situations while in the war and this was fine living by comparison to some months of that heinous conflict. The problem came when the rumors began to circulate. A small, podunk town like this spread rumors like wildfire to alleviate the boredom. It didn't take long for it to become the talk of the town: the monster in the woods. Some called it a ghost, others a shadowy beast.
The rumors were more lighthearted than the ones that circulated about murder and mayhem, hell and it's minions, but due to past events in the town's history the government authorities weren't taking it lightly. Felix had been avoiding the government agents for the past week now. They were bumbling fools compared to him and his military training in espionage and survival skills. He out-maneuvered them at every corner. It was almost laughable. If it hadn't been so annoying.
This evening as the sun began to sling low on the horizon and the shadows grew dark in between the trees, Felix heard them long before they got close. He'd set up alert-traps and at least one of them had gone off, making an awful amount of racket to inform him that he had visitors. He didn't like visitors. He gathered his things, put out his campfire, and disappeared into the shadows.
By the time the teenagers got to the encampment it simply looked like an abandoned campsite. The ashes of the fire were smoldering but only if one looked carefully enough to notice the dousing dirt was recently placed. The smell was impossible to get rid of on quick notice though. Felix was gone, out of sight, never to be found--but not far off. He watched as his campsite was set upon and his eyes settled on one figure in particular leading the tiny little pack.]
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steve and eddie - post-sail
the exact moment he’d left.
he’s lucky no one finds his over-the-top joy at nancy’s return to consciousness odd. to them, he’s appropriately relieved that she’s okay. they have no idea he hasn’t seen any of them for months with no hope of ever seeing them again.
the next moments are a whirlwind. he sits rigidly next to eddie on the couch as nancy recounts her experience with vecna. they steal some poor couple's winnebago. they head to the war zone to buy guns and clothes and whatever else they need for this half-baked plan. steve's thoughts undulate between two things the entire drive — that they have to do better this time, and that he needs to talk to eddie alone. he hasn't picked up on any cues that this is his eddie, but that might not mean anything. or it might mean everything.
when they reach their destination, it occurs to steve that this might be the only chance he really has to be alone with eddie, so when the others try to drag him in, too, he staunchly refuses with a sweeping gesture from his head to his toes. )
You think I can go in there looking like this? Come on. Just grab me some shoes, alright? ( he’s actually pretty sure a place like the war zone doesn’t give two shits if you walk in barefoot and shirtless, but that doesn't matter. he makes sure everyone’s out of the winnebago and the door is shut tight before he finally spins around to face eddie.
he doesn’t say anything at first, not as he slides into one of the seats across from eddie. he doesn’t know what to say. )
Hey. Um. You holding up okay? ( is what he ends up going with, but the look on his face says something more like please say you remember. please tell me you made it back, too. )
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And so it begins...
No pressure, though. Does that feel like pressure? NYU is great too. They have a garden named after my mother. She was into horticulture.
mwahaha
Re: mwahaha
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and that's a wrap (on this one at least)
post S3 plot, for Jaskier
He might very well be the new king of Redania (all hail, long live, etc etc), but they tell him very little. He's a figurehead at best, a puppet at worst, and neither of these parts require actual knowledge of what goes on in his new kingdom. He realizes that, he thinks, better than Vizimir ever did, how little power he actually has, despite his name being on the banners and the treaties. Philippa and Dijkstra hold the reins and they allow him to live, stern-faced on the paintings and smiling at court, and alone, alone, always alone, as long as he doesn't give them any trouble. He's been much too scared to step out of line so far, the memory of his brother's blood dripping from the crown and into his hair too fresh in his memory. But today, he will.
He hears about it because Philippa and Dijkstra are away for a few days, brokering whatever arrangement they feel is necessary at the Northern border of Redania. They didn't need him to be there and left him at the castle, to wander the halls and listen in on guards talking excitedly about a skirmish that happened in the forest. The witcher, they say, and it certainly gets Radovid's attention. The white wolf. He escaped, but we got his bard. Keeping him in the dungeon. He might know something, Dijkstra'll want to see him.
Radovid can barely stop himself from running all the way back up to his rooms, standing in front of the fire with his fists clenched tightly. Jaskier. A prisoner in his castle. A shiver of cool dread goes down his spine, making his stomach knot and his throat close up. He's too aware of how, exactly, Dijkstra gets information from people. To let Jaskier suffer through that, is unthinkable. He's also aware that doing what he's about to do will most likely get him into a lot of trouble.
At nightfall, he slips out of his rooms. He has to wait until the guard there leaves to have his dinner, soon to be replaced by another. While they both chat and joke on the stairs there is a minute when the corridor is empty, and Radovid knows that this is his window. He's never done this before, but he's certainly thought about it. From there, he knows the castle well-enough to make his way to the dungeons undetected, keeping to the shadows, the less-used corridors. It helps that all the guards are staring anxiously at the southern border of the city (they say that's where Emhyr will attack, when he does), and not actually at the inside of the castle.
He stole a set of keys for most of the locks in the castle a while ago and clutches them tightly as he goes down, down, and down to the basement of the dungeon, where the cells are. Most of them are empty and he has to make his way to the very back before he finds one that's closed. On the table next to it is Jaskier's lute, a little worse for wear, and a blue doublet that's seen better days.
"Jaskier?" he whispers, as loud as he dares. In the dim light he's only a backlit hooded figure, golden hair tucked behind his ears, eyes sharp in the gloom.
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@𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚎, 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚝𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚞
plus, this meant getting out of america for a bit. only wayne knows where he is, which means no impromptu calls from his old man. the language barrier does mean that it's a little more challenging to make friends with the locals, but not impossible. he's even learned a few essential phrases in thai — enough to get him in good graces with shopkeepers and bartenders where eddie spends most of his off-time.
the white lotus. so long as eddie does all his assigned duties and nails his scheduled performance, fabian doesn't give a shit what he does on his aforementioned off-time. another boat full of guests has just arrived, and eddie puts on his most charming smile, hoping whatever guest family he's being whored off to this week is closer in age to him. fabian must have it out for him, based on the number of older bridge partners and families with small children who end up on eddie's list. he stands up straight, trying to nonchalantly get a glimpse at the next family when he hears fabian say his name. ah, another family...but with a son around his age. said son looks bored out of his mind, but that could just be eddie's imagination. given how much of a pain in the ass it is for anyone to get to this hellhole of a resort, he can't exactly blame the guy for looking so miserable. it's no problem for eddie, he'll just have to —
before he can even open his mouth, the man (his father?) addresses eddie in a manner that makes eddie's blood run cold. not that eddie should be so surprised. he knows this guy's type all too well. old money: anyone in the service industry is automatically beneath him.
this is going to be a long week... )
surprise.