middaeg | ( OPEN ) cold ground got a hold on me

[ Jaskier does, in fact, run into him. Only it's Geralt, so he hardly moves as Jaskier bumps up against him. He raises an eyebrow. It's undeniably forced cheer. Geralt doesn't need the bond to know that. ]

I snacked. [ That's about as much dry humor as he's willing to muster right now. Unlike Jaskier, he's taken nothing with him: not his swords, not his bag. His clothes are minimal, too. He doesn't plan on staying in them for long.

He lets the door swing shut behind him and heads towards the street, in the direction of the woods. The sun is still in the sky, but it's beginning to sink low. ]

You bring what I asked? [ The sleeping powder -- something more potent than what was used on the deer. He doesn't know if they'll need it, but he wants to be prepared. ]

Not on -- [He stares at him.] You're hilarious, really. I think being bonded to me is actually making you funnier. Miraculously.

[He rubs his nose where it'd bumped into Geralt's shoulder, hefting his lute up higher on his back. Of course it wasn't entirely necessary for the night, but he feels better having it. He's begun to learn the whole art of channeling through it, which did help him concentrate. Less... accidents.

So far.]

What, you think I'd start ignoring you right before you turn into a giant predator? [He pats his bag.] I have it. Now don't start asking me about all these preparations, because it'll make me nervous. And I know very well everything with teeth loves to eat things that are nervous.

Fuck off. [ It's said casually enough. Geralt eyes Jaskier's bag, and then Jaskier himself. He smells nervous. Heart thrumming just a hint. And beneath that, through whatever connection now exists between them, he can feel it.

Takes some getting used to, that.

He keeps walking. The weather's cooled off some into something far more tolerable. That's the only upside so far tonight. That and the skies are clear. He's silent, knowing full well Jaskier will fill it with his chatter. Only when they reach deep enough into the woods to see a light coating of snow on the ground does he stop. ]

Here'll do. [ He glances up at the darkening sky. Nothing to do but wait. In the meantime, he strips off his clothes. It's clear the chillier air doesn't bother him at all as he stuffs them haphazardly into the bag Jaskier's brought. ]

Edited 2020-09-05 04:56 (UTC)

[Jaskier pays no mind to the curse as he hasn't for at least twenty years. He waves Geralt off. He does, indeed, think he's the one making Geralt a bit funnier.

Hard to tell. He's always been very dry.

Jaskier does, indeed, fill the silence with his chatter, mostly about the weapons he's been working on perfecting before he moves onto his next designs. Which he has not designed quite yet. There's a wealth of spells ahead of him that he could take interest in, but honestly, most of them are for hurting or maiming. A bit more than he'd like. He verbally puzzles over the benefits of a bit of conjuration in the terrible need for food or water. They fit into a familiar pattern: Jaskier needs no input to continue, and it's more to think over things himself outloud.

He doesn't even stop as Geralt undresses, and being Jaskier, he doesn't really look away, either. It's not the first time he's seen Geralt nude. He pauses only a moment, lifting his head. Looking for the wound he'd left behind.]

Did it scar?

[ Despite seemingly ignoring Jaskier, Geralt does in fact listen to what he's saying. Strange, hearing the bard go on about magic. And weapons. He's aware Jaskier is doing it to help him -- because he knows, if Jaskier were thinking of himself, the only magic he'd learn would be for his music and various comforts -- and he isn't sure what to think about it. How being trapped here has changed more than he'd like, for the three of them.

He looks up, pulling loose the cord in his hair. The last time he changed, it had tangled into his fur. So he's removing everything he can, other than the medallion. As he reaches up, the scar is evident in the dimming light: a jagged cut that runs angled across his left ribs. It's fresher than the others, still red and the edges almost burnt. ]

Mm. [ Does Jaskier feel bad about it? (That doesn't need to be a question. He knows.). The bard shouldn't. It's not as if he'd left much choice. ] All those songs about the others, it was about time you made one of your own.

[ There's an itching under his skin as the sun begins to disappear. His hair falls noticeably thicker, more fur-like around his shoulders. ]

[Jaskier's brows knit together as he approaches the Witcher, leaving his lute leaning up against a tree. The scar looks awful. Worse than some of the others. He knows Geralt did not blame him for it -- and gods, he had more than plenty of scars to go with it -- but Jaskier knowing he was the one who'd made it, that the night would be permanently etched into his skin, makes him feel queasy.]

I thought my first one would be a little more romantic.

[Not desperate and stupid, and coincidentally only possible because he'd happened to be pretentious enough to specifically buy silver shears.

He sighs. It is what led to them bonding, however, and he doesn't feel there's been many drawbacks to the decision yet. In fact, his work on the bombs has been much easier than before. His attempts at learning to heal his own wound were faster than the first smoke spell he'd learned.

And Geralt remains Geralt. Funnier Geralt, obviously. He's sucked some of Jaskier's wit away.] Utterly bizarre to watch this happen, you know.

[He can't help himself; he reaches and touches Geralt's hair. Fur, almost. He really is about to turn into a fucking wolf.] Makes me wonder, have you ever watched a werewolf do this? [He pauses, thinking. The Coven has emphasized certain things about the bond.] Should I... er, touch you during it?

[ Jaskier, Geralt thinks, always believes everything would be a little more romantic, whether it's a trip through the stinking swamp or into a murky cave. It must be a bard thing.

He frowns at Jaskier's hand in his hair. He removes the hand firmly. ] Once. And no. Stay back.

[ He doesn't give a shit what the Coven says. The last thing he wants is Jaskier getting close to him while he's transforming. Whether he's seen it before or not, the monsters here are different enough he can't rely on his usual knowledge. He has no idea if this bonding will help like he's been told.

Only one way to find out.

As the twin moons grow full and round in the sky, the change wastes no time. It starts as an ache in the joints, then a sharp twist. Then the bones snap, breaking and reforming. They split his skin where they grow too quickly, spilling blood over the ground.

His spine elongates. The crunch of it echoes in the air. He digs his claws into the ground, not quite biting back a cry. When he spits up blood, his teeth come with it: human ones, leaving behind the sharper, longer teeth of a wolf in his mouth. Fur sprouts last, a thick white coat that's far more suited to the cold than the city's warm weather.

Despite the rearranging of his entire fucking body, inside and out, it feels not unlike setting a bone: painful but with a rush of welcome relief when it's over. As if he hadn't realized how trapped he'd been.

This time, the hunger isn't overwhelming. Jaskier smells like food, but he also smells familiar. Someone he knows. The magic between them is present, a thread that keeps him being entirely lost. Geralt steps gingerly over the scattered teeth on the ground and the splatters of blood. Trying not to dwell on it, really. Every transformation reminds him of things he'd long put away.

It's different, though, being in this form and aware of himself. Can he speak? ]

Don't think I'll eat you. [ Yeah. He can. Though it's far more of a growl, even compared to his usual. ]

Edited 2020-09-06 10:45 (UTC)

Only once? [He huffs and takes his hand back. He may have convinced Geralt to bond with him, but it's been no surprise the Witcher is very combatative against the advice that they keep receiving from the Coven about bonds. Unsurprisingly, Jaskier's offers of, er, casual, friendly touching have been mostly put down or pulled away from.

He knows the warning is not to be argued with, though. Jaskier crosses his arms and steps away from him. And, despite how much he does not want to, he draws the dagger from his thigh. The space between he and Gerlat is more than a few yards, but not so far he can't see exactly what's happening.

He shouldn't watch. He does, though, and he regrets every single second of it. He. He tries to watch. The snapping of bone is, unfortunately, not a foreign sound to Jaskier. Not after Téa introduced herself by snapping that poor man's neck. (He was an ass, but still.) It's only when he sees Geralt's skin split, the blood oozing from the wound shining from the moonlight, that he curses and drops his dagger in surprise. He curses, a quick fuck, fuck that spills without him meaning to. Geralt cries out. It's horrible. Just -- just pain, accompanied by the crunch of bone, the unmistakable sound of teeth clicking together as they fall. He can't help it. The horrible things he's seen, Geralt's attack -- but he can't bear to watch this, kneeling as he closes his eyes and holds his hands over his ears.

The clearing stinks of blood. He can cut out two senses, but the third is always there to remind him he is, in this moment, a few short steps away from a man turning into a monster. The dagger lays forgotten at his feet.

And then it stops. The bones crunching, Geralt's shout. He opens his eyes carefully, intimately aware of how completely terrible this idea could be -- that he might not be a bond enough to stop whatever made Geralt feral last time. That he is, very clearly, alone with a giant wolf. Geralt turns to him, his golden eyes glowing, and Jaskier grabs for the dagger, sharply remembering its existence.]

Geralt?

[He stares. He knows it isn't true, but he seems somehow bigger. His teeth larger. Jaskier's palm slips on the grip of the dagger. That maw opens. He has to remind himself this is my friend but the phantom pain in his arm is too sharp to ignore.

A voice comes out. Low, reverberating through his ribs, and though it sounds perhaps half an octave lower, it is unmistakably Geralt's voice.] You're -- [The bond tightens, a near-physical tug that robs his breath for a moment. It's not so much it feels Geralt is pulling on it as it's unraveling from himself, like an offering.]

Fuck. Don't joke like that. [He puts the dagger back in its sheathe, sitting back on the wet grass.] You're bigger than I remember. [All the ripping and tearing, but there barely seems a trace of it now... as long as he doesn't look past Geralt's shoulders.] Are you all right?

[ Is he? Geralt's not certain of his size. Hadn't exactly looked in the mirror the last time. He steps cautiously over the ground, waiting for the wolf's instincts to overwhelm him. It lurks beneath the surface -- a natural wariness of the dagger that Jaskier puts away, the smell of prey both in front of him and in the woods -- but it doesn't take hold of him. Not like before.

Hmm. It leaves him uncertain. Not in a bad way. More that he'd only planned for shit to go wrong. Now that things seem to be all right, he's not sure where the fuck to go from here. Aefenglom has its share of monsters tonight, turned under the moon. Given the amount he ran into last month, he suspects lingering in the woods might not be wise.

City should be fine. They're used to see monsters around. And even if he draws attention, it doesn't matter. There aren't laws banning fully shifted Turnskins from the streets, especially if he's accompanied by a witch. (In part, he simply doesn't want to stick around in the woods, where bits of himself is stuck in the grass. He's not squeamish, but it's unpleasant. A reminder he'd rather not face of both past and present.) ]

Any friends you want to introduce me to tonight? [ He's joking. (Mostly.) He starts walking closer towards the city, leaving behind paw prints only just a bit smaller than a bear's. Should he find Yennefer? He's certain she doesn't want to see him. But he's concerned nonetheless. Especially tonight, under the full moon. She can take care of herself, he's more than aware of that, and yet --

He still worries. ]

Edited 2020-09-08 00:16 (UTC)

[ Her frustrations with Geralt and by extension, Jaskier, were ones she intended to keep to herself. Just as she intended to remain alone tonight, have a quiet time to reflect and avoid any unwanted confrontations. There's a new sight perched on the open door to her kitchen, keen eyes watching where she doesn't look. The raven squawks softly as she passes by, Yennefer quietly offering up a berry from the plate with some soft words. They were still getting used to each other, but Maria had been right. The familiar was helping with taking a bit of the edge off and she was hoping it would serve its purpose to drag out the supernova threat for at least another month.

Part of her wonders if she should venture into town to find Geralt, but the other part of her knows he should have Jaskier and she needed to distance herself from that. Her reaction to the news hadn't been kind, but what was he expecting? She'd wanted to try and solve this, for once attempting to put others before her. And look where that had gotten her. Alone again. So, if assumptions were going to be made about her and her intentions? She might as well make them ring true. She'd fix the wish for herself and fuck the consequences to anyone else.

But even through all that, she can't stop a bit of worry that seeps into her veins. This was Geralt's second shift and that transformation has stayed with her. She was intimately aware of how much pain he must feel every time. So maybe... Maybe she'll reach out to Jaskier. Assuming she'll be able to do it without being accused of wanting something. The thought comes and goes, Yennefer uttering a soft 'fuck' under her breath as she picks up her wine glass from the small garden table, bringing it to her lips as she watches the area around her house for any sudden movement in the moonlight. She hated being worried about someone who didn't need her concern. ]

Yes, Geralt, just don't answer the question that, considering past events, is extremely pertinent. [Jaskier huffs at him, which he figures is a good sign in the first place, pushing himself to his feet. He brushes dirt off his ass, but he doesn't take his eyes off of his friend. Who is. A giant wolf. He's a wolf. And Jaskier simply sat here and watched the wolf come out of his skin.

Werewolves. Yes. They're a thing. But not like this. Geralt, being a Witcher, should not be a werewolf.

Then again. Bard. Mage. Those two were oil and milk, too.] You're hilarious. I'm not introducing you to any of my lovely friends, and I assure you it's not because you're a hulking beast right now. [Geralt's manners, nor his ability to hold a conversation, have clearly not improved. And though Jaskier does hesitate over the idea of returning into the city, he supposes... they wouldn't be the first.

Jaskier tugs his lute onto his back, laying an arm over it as they head back that way. Their plans for the night were nebulous at best. Mostly, they had extended to making sure Geralt did not attempt to digest anyone. And considering the stories he'd heard about the last full moon, Jaskier was also here to ensure his friend did not start any fights with other monsters. Annoyingly, the best way to keep Monsters calm was to... not let them be stressed.

Wonderful.

So far, so well. They walked back through the wall around Aefenglom, as Jaskier steals several looks at his friend. Moving like a wolf. He'd transitioned to four legs rather well. Or was it all instinct?

He didn't need the bond to feel the longing in Geralt's head. The events of the last month had set up a strange precedence. Jaskier has not sought out the witch himself, though he hasn't gone out of his way to avoid her, either. He's faced with a quandary that has forced some of his preconceptions to alter. Which is... annoying. Disliking someone is so much simpler.

Jaskier sighs. He pushes Geralt's haunches, his fingers sinking into fur.] This way. We're getting you something to eat. I have some fine, er, apples... perhaps some turkey? [It is only pure coincidence that they must walk past Yennefer's cottage to reach his own. Geralt, being a stubborn ass, would never bring up wanting to see her. But of course he fucking does.

And, maybe, Jaskier does, too. Just -- call it curiousity. Professional curiousity on the two of them, their tumultuous relationship. Perhaps because he does owe her real, sincere thanks. And to check on her, when he knows how badly his own magic was going without a bond.]

[ Reservations about the bond aside, Geralt can acknowledge it's a safety net. Of a sort. Just knowing that it's there, keeping him from being overwhelmed by his instincts, helps ease his mind. Which in turn, further eases the conditions that might've pushed him to go feral. ]

I'm presentable.

[ His wry comment is vaguely distracted. He walks alongside Jaskier. He's well aware the vision of a wolf his size, no matter how aware of the full moon the local residents are, can make people nervous. The bard is a buffer. It works. He travels through the streets with some looks, but no one screams or tries to sic the guards upon him.

His ears swivel, listening to the sounds around him. They've grown more sensitive, either from the bond or the change itself. Reaching Yennefer's cottage, he hesitates. He should walk past. Tonight's not a night he wants to get into a fight. (He doesn't ever want to fight with her, but especially not tonight.)

Still. Perhaps he can...check in. And then leave. ]

Not yet. [ It says a lot that he's concerned enough by Yennefer to put off thoughts of eating. He steps up to her gates, peering through the fence to find her there, glass of wine in hand. She looks all right. And he can't smell anything around that might interrupt her night.

Geralt takes a step back to leave. But as he does, their eyes meet and he finds himself not quite able to turn away. ]

Edited 2020-09-10 07:15 (UTC)

Yes, yes. Presentable. You. [Jaskier gestures to all of him with a fancy swirl of his fingers.] All of you which is a giant wolf. Yes, I can't imagine you being more presentable than this current moment.

[The sarcasm is positively dripping. The big, scarred wolf wearing jewelry. At least his fur looks... nice. It's not covered in blood and gore, and -- oh, gods, he's not thinking about it right now. He's had plenty of sleepless night from the memories alone.

Geralt and his romantic drama is sufficient distraction. Or, more importantly, the tug he can feel in his chest that he knows, without a doubt, is not from himself. The one that knows, exactly, what Geralt is pining for right now. It's certainly not something he can read from a twitch of his ears (bizarre to think, yet here he is). Geralt's claws make a soft click on the cobblestones like a steady heartbeat.

It's inevitable. As inevitable, one might say, as Destiny. A bard and a wolf standing outside a sorceress's home. The caw of a crow pronounces the moment.]

Er. H-hello, Yennefer. Lovely full moon, isn't it? Very... full. [He rubs his hands together.] Big and round.

[He sincerely does not want to be here if they're on the edge of another screaming match. Or a weighted conversation about the Wish.]

[ If she hadn't known they were there, the bickering would have tipped her off. The sight of Geralt in wolf form is still strange to see, but she's glad to see him much calmer than last time.

Studying whatever she can read from Geralt's wolfy expression, she finally tunes in to the ramblings of Jaskier. She needed to say something before he started composing a ballad about the moon and its roundness. ]

A highly astute observation, Jaskier. [ She's still trying to mentally process the last time she saw Geralt and her intention is to keep this visit civil. He came here for a reason. ]

Can I be of assistance or is this a social visit?

[ Her tone isn't cold, more curious than anything. It's at least a warmer reception than Geralt might've felt had he shown up in bipedal form alone. ]

[ Geralt, for his part, is doing what he always does: ignoring Jaskier talking. He sits -- awkwardly, as he gets used to his new limbs -- and his eyes are on Yennefer instead. She's both aware of their bond and what Jaskier now knows as a result of it. It's not how he wanted things to be, but he also knows that there's no point in dwelling on where other paths might've led.

It's complicated. And he wishes it weren't. ]

Just came to see you. [ Silence hangs in the air. He doesn't fully admit he's here to check up on her. In case anything's happened under the full moons. Given things, he's not entirely sure she'd appreciate it. (Wait. Is that a bird in her window?)

Her reception's not as frigid as he expects. It makes him hesitate, wondering if he's welcome. In the end, Geralt decides not to push it. She deserves her space, he realizes. Still, he lingers more than he should, even as he means to leave. ] I won't take up your time.

[ It doesn't help, though, that when he does actually does stand up to go, his tail's somehow caught beneath the edges of her gates. Irritation immediately crosses his face, wolf or not. Ah, fuck. ]

[Somehow, the sarcasm specifically from Yennefer prickles him, but especially with Geralt close to him, the lessons exactly of what emotional spikes can do to a Turnskin in the back of his mind, Jaskier bites his retort back. He has not pushed Geralt to pass by to start a fight over nothing.]

As Geralt has so eloquently put it, yes. And I did mean to... [This is far harder than it should be.] Thank you. For the last moon.

[The air feels taut, and he's not exactly sure which one of them has caused it. Of course Yennefer long was informed of the bond, but he can estimate that the lack of contact and no other walks of shame from Geralt that it, perhaps, was not taken well.]

Before we go, I had -- [He mumbles to himself, digging through his bag, pausing when he looks up at Geralt's grunt.] Geralt, right now, really? You're ruining my moment. This is -- [He tugs the wolf's tail carefully, but with no less bit of annoyance in his huffs] -- bloody important -- [His tail wiggles out. With that done, he claps and brushes his hands together, then he reaches into his bag and, over the gate, holds out a single large pearl to Yennefer.]

Recompense. For, er, all the bleeding and vomiting from before. [And, perhaps more obviously, a peace offering.] It'll glow if someone is lying to you. [Which is clearly dangerous to give to a sorceress, but... well. He suspects she'd know, and Jaskier isn't given to lying to witches. More importantly, he's spent a month feeling as if he owes her. She did, after all, save his life. (For the second fucking time.) It's no small deed.] Or sell it at the Coven in Dorchacht if you'd like. It's said to fetch a hefty price.

Edited 2020-09-12 01:45 (UTC)

[ Whatever tension she might've been feeling at seeing them both here begins to slip away as soon as Geralt's tail gets stuck. And alright, she could let them stay for a little longer.

She saves her breath, caught off-guard by the offer from Jaskier. Genuinely. If there was one person in existence she hadn't expected anything from, it was Jaskier. Especially not something so powerful as what he extends to her. Curiosity is piqued before he even explains, already moving towards the gate.

And oh-- Oh this gift is gold. Her gaze stays fixed on Jaskier, perhaps sizing him up for the first time ever. As cruel as it may sound, she'd written him off as holding no value to her personally. But, she could admit she was wrong. ]

Thank you. This is a generous gift. [ And unnecessary, but she's not about to say that. He has shown her a kindness and she isn't so horrific to not return it. ]

As for my evening, I had no other plans and I've had no unwanted visitors looking to cause havoc. So, there is no need to rush off on my account unless you have another place you need to be.

[ She'll even take a step back, gesturing to the garden and open kitchen -- the raven croaking before flying off the door and into the house. ]

[ Between his tail being trapped and Jaskier fumbling in his bag for something while trying to free it and Yennefer looking on, Geralt is starting to rethink his decision to enter the city in this form.

As his tail slides free, leaving behind a tuft of fur stuck to the gate's bottom, he turns around. He's just as curious as what Jaskier's got. That pearl...the bard's had it this whole time? Only to gift it to Yennefer, of all people? If anyone had told him there'd be a day he'd see Jaskier hand Yennefer a priceless gift, he'd have scoffed.

And yet.

Geralt pauses. Her invitation is as unexpected as Jaskier's pearl. He thought the last thing she'd want is a night with him after their conversation.

It eases some of the uncertainty in him. Geralt walks through the gate, only barely fitting between them. He's careful as he moves, not wanting to crush any of her flowers under his feet. The raven crows into the air. ]

New friend?

[Extremely generous, he might say, but the thanks is enough when combined with, well. The life-saving and and all that. He's learning, perhaps, to keep his mouth shut against the very first thought that pops into his mind.

He expects that to be that. Geralt has offered their quick escape and there's no need to... to waste time --

An invitation is not what Jaskier expects, either, and the surprise is plain on his face and his raised eyebrows. All right. So the peace offering worked, er, a little better than he expects.] Ah, well, a generous offer in exchange. Though we really must --

[He should stop talking, hm? Since Geralt apparently makes all the decisions. This is just offering a bit more time for Jaskier to fuck up and say something that will piss her off (a guarantee, really) or, more likely at this point, Geralt to do the same. And yet. Might make it worse to wander off at this rate. Jaskier jumps at the loud animal call, just now seeing the bird sticking around and clearly paying too much bloody attention. Fuck.] We'll be visiting for a bit, then. Er. Thanks.

[Jaskier eyes the bird warily as he follows the wolf, momentarily wondering what the fuck his life in this place has temporarily become. A fairy tale, really. When he thinks about it. A fairy tail with witches, and wolves, and... whatever manner of creepy bird. People becoming monsters, monsters becoming people. Bards being magic. Late night full moon visits.

All right, so it's not that different than home. He seems only to be mucking about in the magic part a lot more.]

A familiar, if I'm to hazard a guess. You don't strike me as one of those crazy bird women. Yet. [He ducks down with a squeal as the raven flies far too close overhead.] I did not say she was crazy, bird! Well, not for those reasons.

[Ah. He can only think over his words so many times.]

[ It's hardly surprising when Jaskier follows along, Geralt having already made a decision. And it's wise to not argue with someone or something you can't physically move. She wouldn't have been offended if they'd carried on their way, everything that's been left unsaid still hanging in the air. Though the gift does quite a lovely job in keeping any complaints or verbal barbs she might've offered quiet.

And then Jaskier makes a comment, popping the calm bubble that had settled over them. She quickly turns, ordering the raven inside to avoid any other... issues or accidents that might arise. ]

A familiar, yes. We're still going through a trial period of sorts. [ Nothing is permanent because she also has no indications of what's to come with the Wish. So, she has no interest in being responsible for the death of a creature. But, she needed a way to cycle some magic to delay any impending implosions from being unbonded.

Setting the pearl down on her garden table, she gives the bard a look - Jaskier is extremely lucky he'd arrived with a gift in hand because she glosses mostly over the comment about being crazy. Mostly. ]

Jaskier, I assure you my sanity is intact. If this is your way of expressing concern about my remaining unbonded, I'm managing well enough.

[ Whether or not that'd be true in a few weeks remained to be seen, but right now? She was fine. The familiar had helped take an edge off. ]

[ Geralt takes after the raven in his response: that is, just after the raven swoops over his head, Jaskier gets a hearty thwack on the leg with the wolf's sizeable tail for that comment. ]

Animals make for riveting conversation. [ His look at Jaskier says that he doesn't appreciate the conversation turning towards bonding. ] You give it a name?

[ Is he avoiding the topic? He is. Absolutely. It doesn't matter; they've already said all they had to say on it. If she's found a familiar, then...he's glad. At least she's something there to help her. Even if it's a bird.

Geralt doesn't try to fit between her kitchen doors. Instead, he sits on the grass just by her garden table. Bizarre to be here with his mind intact and yet not in his human form. Truthfully, he has no idea what the fuck he's supposed to do. He'd been so consumed with feeding the last full moon that now that the urge has been sufficiently quelled, he's...

Okay. Her raven does look appetizing. But he's not going to eat it. (There is a small moment where he eyes it with some consideration, though.) ]

Ow! [He nearly falls over at the (very) undeserved hit of Geralt's monstrous tail, and Jaskier immediately regrets saving him from the fence at all. He catches himself on the garden table with a huff. He has the distinct feeling he is being ganged up on, which is altogether unfair. By three of them now, even!]

I mean, bird threats aside, I won't say I'm not concerned --

[He pauses when he sees Geralt's expression. Incredibly strange to be able to read a wolf's expression, but he has years of practice on Geralt. Perhaps more than that, he can sense a vague sort of hesitation. The sort that makes him hesitate, too.]

Well, you've always managed yourself wonderfully, I imagine. [That's actually maybe not sarcasm? He takes a seat at the table because he's Jaskier and the invitation is implicit, and it's not like Geralt needs one.] I find the very idea of it intriguing. Does it just... hang around?

[He can't really picture a bird helping cast a spell (oh, because he's the expert now, right?) but perhaps it does? The Coven has always mentioned them as a very viable option in a pinch. Jaskier himself is not entirely sure how he feels about having an animal hanging around him all the time.

Then again, look where he's about to be on full moons from now on.]

[ A deep dive into potions to assist with staving off the effects of remaining unbonded. She quickly realizes following her inside in this form would prove some difficulty given her cottage isn't built to accommodate a large size. A conversation that could be had down the road should anything change between them. Though at the moment, she may not be the most optimistic, but with this visit, it's not totally written off.

When Jaskier sits, she follows suit - making a quick detour into the kitchen to grab an extra glass. In case he felt like partaking, the bottle still about half full on the garden table. She doesn't want his concern, though she has to wonder how much of that might be through his and Geralt's bond.

Gods, she wasn't in the mood for this.

With the offer of a change of topic, she takes the pivot in conversation whether it was intended or not. No interest in touching his previous comment. ]

I haven't decided on a name yet. [ Truthfully, wanting to make sure it was a good fit before fully committing. ] I haven't had her long, so in terms of routine, I'm still learning. But for the most part, she stays nearby should I need her.

[ Geralt ignores Jaskier's protests, which he thinks are undue. Probably. He hasn't tested the actual strength of his tail yet.

He lets Jaskier divine the inner-workings of the bird and familiars. It's a topic Geralt hasn't spent as much time on, for obvious reasons. If only he could grab a pet and use it to keep his mind intact. It'd have made this shit less complicated. And though there might've been more he'd have said about their last conversation, with Jaskier here, he avoids it entirely. Might be for the best. The bard, as a buffer.

And the nameless raven, as it lands on his head. He blinks, ears twitching in vague irritation. But since it's Yennefer's, he lets it stay. ] Bold. She suits you.

[ He's still watching Yennefer with some intent. The exchange has been cordial. Far more than their last one. He can't say if that's because she's had time to come to terms with what he's told her or if it's because Jaskier's here, and neither of them want another explosive argument in front of him. ]

[With the invitation explicit with the second glass, he eagerly accepts if only because drinking may, in fact, make the strange, uncomfortable stiffness in the air much less noticeable.

No mentions of concern, explosions or otherwise. Got it.

He takes several large gulps of wine, releasing an annoyingly loud ahh. He has to admit, at least she has good wine.

He looks between them. There's pointed gazing and pointed avoidance, and it's quite clear his presence here is either hindering something or making it worse. At least there is the shortest moment of brevity as the sorceress's familiar lands on the giant wolf's head, looking perfectly content with itself at annoying the largest predator in the area.

Despite the tension, he snorts a laugh into his wine.] Gods, it certainly does. The spitting image of you. Oi -- before you hit me, I mean it in a good way. Could easily see you as a bird. [The thought makes him pause, if only because it's something he's been looking into with some idle interest.] Have you done that before? I mean, you must have. Become a -- a bird, or a cat, or something? Here, I mean?

( OPEN ) cold ground got a hold on me

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