middaeg | ( OPEN ) just a pinch of salt in the wound; you'll be fine

[ She's more nimble than most of what he's been hunting all night: a couple of deer and an entire flock of sheep. Slow, easy prey that's been good for his appetite early in the night but which now he's grown bored of. That's a new feeling for him. Boredom is not generally something that Geralt feels, preferring steady peace and quiet more than anything. Tonight's different.

His body is coiled tight to pounce again. It's her weapon that makes him pause. What is it? Is it silver? The Turnskin in him grows cautious at the thought. Even so, his hesitation doesn't last long. He's tasted blood and the smell of it in the air sets his senses ablaze.

If there's recognition in her gaze, it's lost on him. So are her words. He zigzags around her, trying to find an opening where he can leap in and swipe at the arm holding the weapon or sink his teeth into it. ]

[Him moving back and forth around her answers that—no recognition, no familiarity. Just a beast seeking a new, warm meal to finish the night off with.

She tries to give him no openings, keeping her gunblade up between them, ensuring that he'll clamp down on the steel before her arm. Lightning's a trained (ex)-soldier, best of the best, and while she did have training in dealing with beasts, it was to kill them when they threatened the outskirts of the city. Nothing would have prepared her for something like this.

But she will think fast, because there's nothing else left for her to do. He's pacing around her and she's stuck, unable to get up and make a run for it in spite of her injury. Lightning lowers her weapon just so, but the moment he makes a leap for her, she will pull the trigger of her gun, a loud blast to follow that echoes off the trees and sends birds skyward. She hopes that he has enough of a wolf instinct to at least be startled by the loud gunshot... A high risk move, but one she's willing to take.]

[ The weapon that aims at him, he expects it to hurt if it hits. A cut or a slice, he can deal with it. What he doesn't expect is the deafening sound it makes, louder to his sensitive ears.

Her assumption is correct: he jerks back, the bullet grazing overhead. For a second, it seems he's disoriented. It's not only his wolf instinct; what little of himself remains beneath, he hasn't heard that sound before either. Not quite like that. It isn't an explosion: it's sharper, but just as loud, and it leaves no trace other than an acrid, faintly burning scent in the air.

When he turns back on her, he's far more careful. She's turned from something he'd planned on eating to one he thinks he might need to defend himself from. He moves in one more time to attack, going low this time for her leg, to try and jerk her to the ground. ]

Shit—

[Just when she thought she had him, and that he would run, he's coming at her for another attempt. Rather than clamp down on flesh, his teeth will meet steel instead. She'd managed to shove the blunt side of her sword in there just far enough that her injured leg is narrowly missed, and she tries to wrench it sideways, hoping that she has the strength to throw a wolf his size off his feet. Her jaw tightens as she tries to fight the pain that's beginning to dull her senses.

Lightning manages to get another, better look at the medallion around his neck this time, and she swallows, biting down on the inside of her lip when the realization dawns on her. This goddamned place is bullshit.]

What would Roach think if he saw you, huh...?

[Her comment is followed by a sharp crack as magic erupts from her hands. Electricity surges through her fingers and over the blade, and it crackles and snaps with energy. It isn't much, but she can feel it pinching and burning her own skin, still as out of control as she remembers it being. Without a bond or any practice, it's already starting to ignite inside her veins, creating glowing lines under her skin, but... she's out of ideas.]

[ The jolt of teeth clamping on cold steel reverberates through his skull. It is steel, though: it doesn't burn like silver, and so he clings on stubbornly, even as she jerks him with enough force, it startles even him.

The hum of magic catches his attention too late. It hits him full force, crackling over the barrel of the weapon. The shock spasms through his body. His jaws clamp down tighter, involuntary this time, until the magic fizzles out.

Fuck. He stumbles back. He doesn't hesitate this time: he takes off through the snow, escaping to where he can nurse his burned muzzle. ]

[When he takes off, Lightning sits in the snow, one hand wrapped around her bleeding leg while the other drops the sword to grip her wrist. Her magic is doing it again. Without a bond, and without the proper learning and practice to control it, she risks it backfiring on her just like it did, and the familiar sharp pain courses through her hands, like an itch under her skin that she can't scratch.

It's a while before she finds the strength to get back up, and she leaves the satchel of gathered seeds behind to limp back to the city to tend to her own wound.

Even longer is when they finally meet again, entirely by chance, when she enters the same tavern he's seated in. It's not one she comes to often, but often enough that she draws no attention to herself, not quite fitting in with the seedier bunch that tends to frequent the place. She recognizes him instantly, if not for the head of white hair then it's the sword sheathed next to him, and she comes up from behind and gently sets a fist down on his table, with something pink and frilly inside it, as she comes around.

(Don't ask.)]

You fit right in.

['sup]

[ A shift in his weight is the only thing that suggests he's aware someone is approaching from behind. Her scent, if not her voice, identifies her.

Geralt lifts his head, though he doesn't look behind him at her. Wariness flickers across his face, visible for a split second. He distinctly recalls biting her. Hard to forget their encounter when the corner of his lips still bears a faint, healing mark where the spell had left a sharp burn.

But she doesn't seem to be here for a confrontation. At least not yet. He relaxes a little.

(And what is she holding?) ]

Brought me a gift? Thoughtful. [ With his foot, he pushes out the chair across from him at the table. An invitation. He presumes she knows who that wolf was. Medallion gives it away. Not that he's interested in pretending otherwise, anyway. ] How's the leg?

[She accepts the invitation to sit down, although with some trepidation at first—she didn't walk in here thinking that she'd run into him, but Lightning would be lying if she said she hadn't wondered how he was doing after their encounter in the woods. It's good to see that he's out and about, though... it must mean he's doing at least okay.

Stuffing the apron aside, Lightning slides into the chair across from him and motions to the bartender for a single beer when they meet eyes.]

Better. Left a neat little scar, though.

[Not that she seems to care. It's something she's grown used to, working as a soldier. She's been cut and bruised so many times that it hardly phases her anymore... that, and she didn't sit down to make him feel bad about what happened.

Scars always make for cool stories anyway.]

How's the lip? [She does see the mark on his face, and hasn't looked away from it since she sat down.] I admit, I'm not all that great at magic yet. I was worried I might've lost control.

[ When she orders her drink, Geralt slides some coins across the table. Figured he owed her a couple of drinks at this point. ]

Healing. [ Out of all of his injuries, that one wasn't anywhere near the worst. The only one still bothering him is the cut on his side, where the silver shears had caught him. It continues to burn faintly even after all this time, beneath where Yennefer had helped wrap it up.

The implication of what she's saying lingers: that she'd been trying to hold back. Wouldn't have blamed her if she hadn't bothered, but he appreciates the sentiment. ]

I wouldn't say you were the one who needed to worry about control that night.

[She shakes her head in disagreement, not to the coin, but to what he says. She'll accept the payment for the drinks... this time.]

Full moon, right? I've seen it happen a couple times.

[Though, never to the extent that she did with Geralt. It was mostly in the midst of the changes, not when the Monsters had gone full feral like he had. She can't blame him for simply being at the whims of the world, and how it changes even the most controlled people. It's part of why she hates it so much.

What she hasn't had the chance to do is talk to someone about the encounter after the fact.]

... Did you know what you were doing?

[She doesn't ask it in a way that places the fault on him, but out of curiosity.]

[ Yeah. Full moon. So has he. Not here, but back home. The difference is it's happening to him, which bothers him on a level that's hard to explain. Namely, that he went through a lot of shit when he was made. The least that life could grant him was to leave it at that and not undo it in the name of another transformation a handful of decades down the line. ]

Yes. And no. [ Geralt deliberates his answer for a moment. ] You get lost in it.

[ It's how it feels to him, anyway. It's not as if he spent the night entirely mindless; he recalls the lioness that hunted with him. But he also remembers how easily triggered his instincts were, overwhelming anyone's attempt to reason. ]

What about you? Your magic.

[Lightning can't begin to fathom what it must be like to lose oneself in the transformation. It's one thing to lose control of her magic, but a whole other ordeal to turn into a creature that completely takes over—it reminds her too much of the Cie'th. Only difference is that they are stuck that way forever...

Monsters really do get the short end of the stick around here.]

Witches don't have it as bad, [she begins to say, but her voice trails off at the end. Maybe she should reiterate that.] We've got a little time before we lose control, but...

[Her fingers flex, fist opening and closing.]

Still don't have much of a grip on mine, if that wound is anything to go by.

[ In the end, Geralt is not sure what bothers him more: the effects of the transformation or the physical change itself, the unmaking and remaking of his body. It brings back echoes of a time he'd rather not think about.

Perhaps the real answer is both.

He's been told what awaits the witches, too. Magic that consumes them. He wonders if that was the first time she's felt her magic going out of control. ] They say bonding helps.

[ His tone suggests he finds the recommendation not ideal. It's been on his mind since the full moon, though. Especially now that...look, he'd rather not make a meal out of Lightning again. Or anyone, really. It's only sheer luck that he didn't hurt Yennefer, either, or Jaskier even worse. ]

Yeah, I know.

[Her tone echoes his, the dissatisfaction clear as day. As much as she hates it, it's something they'll both have to get around to eventually, if he hasn't already.]

I learned that the hard way. Didn't bother with a bond or learning how to use my magic the last time.

[Lightning's finger taps against the table, almost as if she's growing restless, but she remembers how much agony it put her through. It isn't as bad this time, but she can feel it starting again, slowly but surely. The burning in her hands when she allowed that spell to go through isn't an unfamiliar one.

It's not something she wishes on anyone.]

You got anyone here you trust enough with that?

Last time? [ His head is tilted in question. She's not referring to their brief stint here, is she? Geralt can't recall having been here long enough to have gone through the full effects, despite his physical changes having occurred much quicker -- but perhaps she had a different experience.

Something flickers in his expression. That's a hell of a question. If only it were answered by a simple yes or no. (But when's that ever been the case?)

He reaches for his drink. ] It's not a matter of trust.

Someone you know, then.

[Lightning resigns her curiosity, realizing that it's probably not her business to be asking who, or what the relationship is, even if she just wants to look out for the people she's gotten to know here. If he wants to talk about it, she'll listen, but she won't push her luck.

Geralt seems more like her in that regard, based on what he's given her so far, and she can respect that.]

A witch, I hope? Apparently it's supposed to help.

[And to his earlier question, she waves a dismissive hand.]

We need to find an outlet for our magic, or else we just... explode. Supposed to make you feel more balanced or whatever.

A witch. [ Geralt confirms at least that much, though he sidesteps exactly what the issue is. Nor does he get into the fact that there's more than one -- and more than one witch. When he offers a little more, there's a reason he picks the person that he does. The less complicated of the two. ] Though who the fuck knows. Perhaps his lute is outlet enough.

[ It's not, despite his dry response. He already knows that. Jaskier needs the bond as much as he does -- if not with him, then someone else. Preferably someone else. Even if he's aware Jaskier feels otherwise.

But Yennefer is right. The risk inherent in it is something to consider. He hasn't told Jaskier yet exactly what that risk is or why. Eventually, he'll have to. ]

[Wait, hold up a second.

Lightning's eyes immediately narrow, the witch he's describing already sounding oddly familiar. The lute is all she really needs to come to the conclusion—]

Jaskier?

[Of all the people in the world, Lightning never expected Geralt to bond with someone like him. Excuse her while she lets the surprise settle in on her before she barks out a laugh loud enough that the people at the nearest table turn to see what it's about.]

There's only one Mirrorbound I know around here with one of those.

[Or one Mirrorbound who is confident enough to flaunt the fact. She hasn't seen it, but he did mention it.]

[ If he'd been talking about anyone else, Geralt would've been curious to know how she's familiar. But this is Jaskier. So he's not. Of course she knows his name. Jaskier has made it a point for the Continent to know his name and it seems he's maintained this goal in an entirely new sphere.

Instead, Geralt's expression is vaguely chagrined as if he, too, wants to know how the hell he wound up friends with the bard. Never mind him being a potential bond. (Also never mind that Jaskier, somehow, is still far easier to explain than Yennefer.) ]

You met him. [ He eyes her. He's only half-kidding about what he says next. ] Surprised he's still in one piece.

Yeah, me too.

[It's said with a quiet snort under her breath that she tries to drown in the beer that's been sitting at the end of the table. The comment is mostly a joke; Jaskier had given her plenty of opportunities to kick his ass if she was really feeling inclined to, but he had also proven himself undeserving of that, whether it was out of pity or out of appreciation.

She's still not sure how she feels about him, though. What a strange dude.]

Surprised he hasn't told you about how he won the heart of a certain bakery owner. He sang outside the patisserie and now I'm pretty sure Karen's in love. You should ask him about her. How they're doing.

[ :) ]

[ A certain what? Geralt doesn't mention that he probably only hasn't heard about it because he's specifically been avoiding Jaskier. There's a particular conversation they need to have and he knows Jaskier will bring it up immediately as soon as he sets sight on Geralt.

Hence. Drinking here, where he knows Jaskier is less likely to be around performing.

He grunts. Right. Naturally. Jaskier has, as expected, found himself a suitor already, enamoured with his singing. It's deeply annoying, the amount of people who find Jaskier charming. ]

The only thing I'm asking him is why he hasn't brought me any bread yet.

[ No, actually. The first thing he's going to ask is if Karen has a husband. ]

If you want bread, all you gotta do is ask.

[Jaskier. Not her.

The apron that's been balled up in her hand is subtly stuffed far into the reaches of her pocket, never to be seen or mentioned again for the remainder of this conversation. She likes Geralt and feels relaxed around him. The last thing she needs is him finding out why she was carrying that apron with the happy croissants. There are certain parts of her reputation that she wants to uphold...

Back to Jaskier.]

So, he's from your world... [Because why else would Geralt know him!? That's the only logical conclusion she can come up with in her head.] Does he do that a lot? The singing thing?

Mm. [ Geralt confirms both her suggestion and assumption with a noncommittal sound. Jaskier is not just from his world. Jaskier has traveled with him longer than any human has, a fact that Geralt still doesn't know how it happened.

His expression turns curious. The way she's asking, that's all. Like she doesn't actually know why Jaskier walks around with a lute and a song on hand. It doesn't occur to him bards might not exist elsewhere. ]

He's a bard. [ It's, you know. What bards do. They sing. Jaskier's profession is just about the only respectable thing about him. ] A known one. [ A pause. ] Do not tell him I said that.

[ Back home, anyway. Less so here. He has no doubt Jaskier is working on rebuilding his reputation in the city. ]

What, that he's well-known? [... Actually, yeah. Given what she does know about him, it's probably best that she doesn't talk about that with him, lest she want to be sat down to listen to him sing about his supposed fame. Geralt knows what he's doing.] Your secret's safe with me.

[But Lightning can put two and two together. There may not be bards in her final fantasy world, but they're singers. Floofy performers. Got it.]

Don't take this the wrong way, but that wasn't the answer I was expecting when I asked. [She's having a hard time imagining what that dynamic looks like.] ... But I'm glad you found someone.

[ Found someone sounds far too much like Geralt's already made the decision to bond with him. Explaining that requires bringing up why things are so complicated between him and Jaskier and Yennefer, and the tangled web that's become their fates or Destiny or whatever the fuck, so he keeps it to himself. ]

Trust me, I wonder the same thing. [ After awhile, he's stopped questioning it, what it is that has resulted in Jaskier being here twenty-some odd years later.

After a second, he shifts the topic. ] What about you?

( OPEN ) just a pinch of salt in the wound; you'll be fine

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we'll shift gears after this to the aftermath part! 💪

sounds good!

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wrapping :)

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