middaeg | ( open ) Open up next to you and my secrets become your truth…

Edited 2021-01-18 17:42 (UTC)

[ This month held quite a few changes to her way of life here, moving and mostly sharing a roof with two men she never would have expected. And that doesn't even begin to delve into the ideas that she willingly committed in some sense of the word to both of them. As much as she tells herself it was the practical thing to do, it's still a period of adjustment. It was a commitment no matter how she spun it, larger than she anticipated making with either of them.

The curtains surrounding her bed move slightly with a shift in the air -- a small draft from one of the windows she'd cracked open. She's not sure what triggered the dream, perhaps a hint of smoke on the air from someone else's home or a recently extinguished fireplace... But it often didn't take much, that added lingering unknown of how it would all resolve. If she was building a life here because she had nothing left to go back to in her world.

Her dreams are seldom in order, a series of events jumping from one to the next and then back. Tonight refused to be peaceful for her, the dream feeling more vivid than normal. It starts how it always does, the fireball descending from the sky. Her hands extend upward, trembling slightly at the force of magic -- the fleeting knowledge of he cost of a spell like this. She redirects it to the left, then again when another one comes.

The dream jumps again to her standing on wooden tower, eyes closed as she listens and calls out soldier locations. That's when the cacophony of sounds begin, mindlessly sifting from one scream to the next -- intermingled with sounds of battle. It jumps back to the children helping them as they prepare for the invasion and then to those same children dead from the explosion of the meteorite bottles. It jumps from Sabrina's kind and smiling face to the contorted maniacal hatred as the arrow is plunged into her abdomen. And then falling, but it feels farther -- as though her feet may never connect with solid ground. Eventually, though, they do. And it's quiet, eerily so. There's a faint sound of crying but it's distorted by a ringing noise.

She doesn't move, trying to disrupt the dream -- to go anywhere else. ]

Edited 2021-01-18 17:45 (UTC)

[ The exact moment Geralt moved into the mansion is unclear; it's not something he nor Yennefer ever brought up, but between him admitting his wolf form needs far more space than the apartment provides (they will not speak of the time he was stuck in the doorway) and the fact that Roach could use a nicer stable for the winter, well.

At some point, Geralt picked up his bag when he visited Yennefer and simply didn't return. And naturally, where Geralt goes, Jaskier tends to appear. So here they are. The three of them.

It's strange. Not unwelcome, though. Her company during the night certainly isn't unwelcome. Geralt sleeps easier than he has in awhile, though darker thoughts are never far. The flames that seep into his dreams are not unexpected nor unusual -- even if some part of him vaguely senses that the faces he's seeing, he has no memory of.

He steps over a torso unattached to any legs. The smell of blood is steeped into the ground. He frowns. The armor of some of the dead, he recognizes. But he's also well aware this isn't Cintra. It's...

He hesitates. Shit. Is it -- ? Truthfully, his head is fucking spinning. Magic hangs heavy in the air, and he calls out the first name that comes to his mind. ]

Yennefer?

[ She feels heavy, the weight of the world back on her shoulders as she just tries to stay upright. The lines are blurring further and further, the reminder that this isn't happening again long gone.

And then a voice cuts through the blood pounding in her ears. He shouldn't be here. He can't be here. Another grounding moment, opportunity for clarity if she can muster it. She didn't want to be here anymore. She couldn't do this then and she certainly can't now.

It takes actual effort to change her path, stopping herself at the smoldering remnants of the barricaded entrance as she looks for him. Bloody and covered in soot and sweat, her expression is drawn tight -- attempting to keep her emotions in check. Some semblance of bottled control as everything else around her shows the consequences of unchecked chaos. There was a cruel chance he was just a figment of her imagination.

After all, this was her fault. Wasn't it? She couldn't blame Fringilla for following down a path Yennefer set into motion. No. Something was off. Something was-- This wasn't right. ]

[ It is her. Despite not seeing her clearly at all, Geralt knows with a certainty that only comes within a dream. He hurries towards her; the distance feels at once long and short, like a snapping bow string.

His frown grows deeper as he reaches her side. She looks like hell. He can see the wound that she'd been nursing when they were first drawn to the city together -- untreated and bleeding. ]

You're hurt. [ A part him almost wants to apologize for intruding. He's not meant to be here. Is he? Does it matter? He is here, and it means he can...do something. Help her stand, at least, which he does, reaching out to steady her.

The question comes, even as he already knows. ] Yen. Where are we?

[In hindsight, Jaskier finds it's a terrible thing, the Coven not emphasizing how one could slip into the dreams of their Bonded. That the chance increases with the more Bonds one has.

Or in proximity, apparently. It wasn't entirely intentional that they had all ended up together. It just so happened Yennefer had acquired a much, much nicer place than him, and then he'd found Geralt's apartment pretty much abandoned.

And through a series of increasingly lonely decisions, he was here. Well. He had been. In the comfort of his luxurious bed, surrounded by a few new bright green plants he'd picked up for a slightly empty room.

He had been. Not anymore.

Jaskier had traveled nearly all inches of the Continent, whether on his own, in a troupe, or following the Witcher. But this place? He couldn't even recognize it. It's... it's smoke, and fire, and blood covering all of it, even coating the air in a cloying, choking way. Jaskier steps over what he is fairly sure is an arm, quickly glancing way. There's no lute to hug to his body, but he still crosses his arms like he can.

In that nebulous way of dreams, he assumes he's on the Continent. That he should not, could not, be there, does not matter. He can feel the magic in the air like pressure clutching his heart, pressing on his chest.

He pauses, bending down. He picks up the gentle curve of glass, a residue stuck to it. Glass. There's glass everywhere, among everything else.

It's a battle field.

Jaskier lifts his head. Something sweet, barely a trace, underlying the blood and smoke.] Yennefer? [He calls the name, framing his mouth with his hands.] You better bloody be all right!

Edited 2021-01-20 06:21 (UTC)

[ Truthfully, her also looking into some telepathy finally might've accelerated a few things. Possibly. Maybe not. Perhaps a perfect storm of circumstances.

She lets Geralt steady her, ignoring his comment about her injury. There were more pressing matters at hand. Especially once Jaskier's voice cuts through loud and clear. Yennefer is already trying to move. The movements are slow, but determined, dragging Geralt along if he'll let her. She needs to get them out of here before night falls. They need to leave now. ]

Sodden. You need to go. You both need to go. They'll kill you.

[ Neither of them need to see what's coming. Her walk to her likely demise. This being real or fake is still blending together, but either way...

Before she can say anything else, the dream begins to reset itself, memories jumbling -- some going backwards while others just start over. Bodies falling up the parapets, children running and laughing. It's a strange scene and disorienting. A manifestation of her attempts to control whatever's going on, the objections and deep concentration to get them to safety. ]

[ Jaskier. His head snaps around at the familiar voice. The fuck is he doing here, too? He opens his mouth, but no question comes. What's there to say?

Geralt hurries alongside her. He can't help glancing back, as if the corpses behind them will grant answers. He's passed through hundreds of battlefields in his lifetime. This is different. It's different because he knows Yennefer had been here.

Their time in another sphere has allowed him to put aside what she's told him: her fate at Sodden. One he's tried to believe, as much as he can, is not written in stone. Facing it now, there's no convincing himself of the same. He feels it more than he knows it, a sinking pit that opens in his stomach.

He blinks hard, his head spinning. The more they flee, the more the images whirl. Eventually, he grabs Yennefer's arm. ]

Wait. Stop. [ They're running to nowhere. Trees loom alongside cityscapes. ] This isn't right. I'm not here.

[ He can't explain what he means by that. He obviously is here. He's standing right in front of her. It's just -- he can't remember how he got here. He'd been on his way somewhere else.

He looks around. Where's Jaskier? Instinct tells him they can't be separated. Not right now. ]

[The air around him feels ethereal.] Yennefer? [He hears her voice as if it's right beside him, the meaning almost lost in his confusion. He can't see her, though.

Wait. Wait. Fuck. Sodden?] Sodden? What the --

[Geralt? He could here him, too. Or. Or feel him. Which was a part of the Bond, of course, but this felt different. It felt all wrong, really. Not, obviously, because of the bodies. Corpses.

People ran past him. Backwards. The flash of blue in bottles. Children laughing.]

Here? Where is here? I don't see either of you. This is worse than that fucking hedge maze! [And where was his lute? His lute. He always had it, and it. Steadied him. He needed it, of course. For magic.

He runs himself. Past the corpses, the piled arrows. Flames burning across the field. Jaskier spots a flash of white. Geralt? And beside him.] Hey! [He heads towards them, trucking it.] I say we all get the fuck out of here!

[ She stops and the loop calms, the chaos staying in one direction. It's not pleasant, but at least the laughter has stopped. For now. ]

Neither of you are supposed to be--

[ Jaskier's comment earns an almost desperate laugh. That's a great fucking idea, one she'd love to see come to fruition for them. She can't leave. After everything-- ] I can't leave them. But you two can't stay.

[ None of this makes sense. Holding onto Geralt, she looks around again, trying to clear some of the fog from her mind. Something. Anything. ]

I-- [ For someone who's often so confident in everything she does, the uncertainty is crippling. Something nags in the back of her mind with both of them close enough to touch that this is a dream. But, she's not able to voice it yet. ]

[ One of the most worrying things has always been seeing Yennefer so uncertain of where and what she's doing. It's not like her -- and it means whatever is going on is...

Of particular concern. You know. In case the fireball hadn't made that clear as fuck.

He grabs Jaskier as soon as the bard appears beside them. He knows Jaskier must've come from somewhere, but it's as if he simply materialized. Geralt decides not to question it right now; he holds onto Jaskier's arm and onto Yennefer with his other hand. Reality feels tenuous. As if they might slip out of existence any moment. ]

I'm not leaving without you. [ His tone is firm. He's not going anywhere without her. If they're trapped here, so be it. They'll be trapped together. ]

How did you get here? Do you remember? [ He glances between them. ] Either of you?

Them? [His head spins. Way too many questions. His own, and Geralt's, and Yennefer is being -- honestly, sort of creepy and cryptic, which he really is not a fan of.

Without thinking, now that he's reunited with them, he takes Yennefer's other hand. It's there. It's real. (Why wouldn't it be real?) Geralt's hand on him. The three of them connected.

Connected.]

Neither am I. Both of you, I must insist. I don't care if this is Sodden or the bloody moon.

He meets Geralt's gaze.] I... [He pauses.] Walked? [He bites his lip, looking around, still holding tightly onto both of them.] I've never been to Sodden. [Not quite right.] Not like this. I've never seen it like this.

[ Yennefer is hardly in the mood to ever explain herself, even on the best of days. Sodden and her reasoning for staying wasn't something she was willing to discuss. It should have been evident enough, though Jaskier's experience with Sorceresses was probably limited. Identifying one, dead or alive, might not come so naturally. But Geralt know who all was here, why she needed to stay.

She lets them talk for a moment, leaning on the completed circle of their hands as she closes her eyes to focus. The sounds around them diminish as though someone had closed a door to muffle the noise. Her intention was to try and reach out again to Tissaia, but something else answers.

A moment of clarity through the connection. ]

It's a memory. A dream. My dream.

[ She has no idea how they're going to get out of this, but it's somewhere to start. And somewhere for clearer minds than hers to focus as the sound comes back, her own clarity shattering with a nearby scream. ]

[ Walked. Geralt recognizes the hesitation. He's not sure, either, how he got here. That never happens. Almost never, unless he's been caught under some kind of spell, which is a rarity in and of itself.

Besides, last he remembers, he'd been home. Hadn't he? Inside their home, Yennefer's home, a place that's been carefully warded. It isn't until Yennefer speaks up again that the gaps in his brain fill in. ]

Yours. How the fuck -- ? [ There's no reason to ask: Geralt knows this isn't deliberate on her part. She'd never share a memory of Sodden. Or anything of her past, really. His head snaps around. That scream. He frowns, peering into the smoky darkness. The flames seem closer than before. He can feel the heat against his skin.

If they're tied to Yennefer's dream, then waking is the simplest solution. How they're going to do that is a different problem altogether.

Still. He's had a lot of nightmares in his time. And if he's learned one common thread, it's that wakefulness tends to be just around the corner in the midst of something awful. Like death.

He knows better than to say what he has in mind out loud. They won't let him do it. But he moves forward with more purpose than he had before, his gaze searching the horizon. ] One of us needs to wake up.

[Jaskier blinks. Oh.]

Actually, that does make sense. [Somehow the frankness of the answer to their ultimate question -- what the fuck is going on? -- relaxes him. He is, after all, an honorary Dreamwalker, thank you, considering he'd done it once before. The difference being that he, well, had agreed to that part, and had been very aware of going into it.

Ah. Shit. The coven witches had warned him of this at some point, hadn't they? And he, of course, had not assumed it would ever be a problem considering Jaskier's dreams were often rather wonderful.

He starts at the scream, ducking down and covering his head as something whistles past them. An arrow?]

It's not all that awful then, is it? You can't get hurt in a dream. [He squeezes Yennefer's hand, and in a way she has rarely seen, his voice softens.] I know it's awful, but if you lived this once, you survived it. [He looks to Geralt.] One of us will wake eventually. You always rise with the dawn. Perhaps we only need travel somewhere quieter.

[Isn't the nature of dreams to change as it moves, anyways? He remembers quite clearly how often it changed when he was hunting those little black pearls in someone else's dreams, when a door or a turn around a corner could bring him somewhere entirely different.]

[ Yennefer's mind jumps to the same conclusion as Geralt's at the mention of needing to wake up. They didn't have time to find a way to allow it to happen naturally. The only reaction she has to the scream is a tightening of her jaw and a soft shine to her eyes. She knew who the voice belonged to, the moments leading up to when she always woke known by heart.

Jaskier's comment about her living through it tells her all she needs to know. Geralt hadn't told him. She knows the squeeze and his words are meant to offer comfort, but she can't find it. ]

I haven't survived it yet and it's likely that I won't.

[ Because letting her chaos explode was going to have a high cost. She needed them out of here before the nightmare progressed to nightfall, which should be coming soon. She can't have them see her conversation with Tissaia. This had already been enough.

Swallowing hard, she turns to face them, letting go so she's not touching anyone. ]

Stay here. We should awake in a few moments if this works.

[ She can feel the clarity starting to slip once she breaks physical contact, immediately trying to move towards the highest point in sight before someone stops her. ]

[ The problem is that Geralt's main concern isn't getting hurt. It's that they will stumble upon something they aren't meant to see: either from Yennefer or himself. Something that can't be unseen. There's a reason that even after all this time, much of his and Yennefer's history remain unspoken to each other.

He's about to tell Jaskier he's right, to go find somewhere quiet in an effort to distract. Then Yennefer is moving. His eyes narrow. Fuck. He knows exactly why she's headed in that direction. ]

Wait, Yen -- shit. [ Geralt takes off after her, but the dreamscape isn't his. It's hers, and it shifts unexpectedly, the ground giving way to slippery rocks and then soft grass. He hurries to catch up. No fucking way is he letting her die again here. Dream or not.

He reaches for her arm, trying to catch hold of her. ] Yen, stop.

[ Of the two, the one she really needed to basically outrun was Geralt. She moves as quickly as her body will allow right now, the aches accompanying what should be an old injury slowly returning. The sky darkens around them as the terrain changes, both Geralt and Jaskier unintentionally getting pulled along.

She rounds on Geralt, ready to tell him to let her go when the sound of her voice echoes somewhere in the distance, brokenly yelling 'I can't' followed by a softer and calmer 'you can'. It's disjointed, an image of her and Tissaia trying to flicker into existence as she fights it. Hard. She needed to do this before it took them back to the beginning of this shit or she took them somewhere else entirely in her attempt to prevent the dream from progressing. ]

We don't have time and you don't need to see what comes next. Let me do this.

[ Her words are softer than she intends with an edge of desperation, already trying to walk backwards toward the edge and pull out of his grasp. ]

[It is utterly miraculous how quickly things get out of hand. Jaskier still believes his suggestion is perfectly sound. After all, it worked in the last dream he walked in --

He blinks, stunned.] What? You don't know that.

[They've never been exceptionally close, but the way she slips out of his hand is like a physical wound. He looks between them.] Yennefer? What are you doing?

[She turns and runs, and he's so perplexed at first that he hesitates. Then Geralt is running, and apparently they're all bloody running, and thank the gods he doesn't have his blasted lute for once if only because he'd never be able to catch up that way.

He doesn't quite catch up with Geralt, but years of following him have left him able to stay somewhat close behind, even as the terrain changes around them, the world shifting and cracking in its unreality.] Wait, wait! Do not do something drastic! [He knows drastic when he sees it. The running. The cliff behind her. He sees it now, what she intends to do, because she's fucking insane even in dreams. Jaskier slows only because he's summoning a mixture of Elder, almost unfamiliar on his tongue, which crafts a magic rope in his hands that jettisons towards the two of them, reaching to wrap around their waists.] I think it's safe to say we don't mind what comes next!

[ The sound of a voice that's Yennefer's and yet not distracts him for just a split second. His head snaps around, then back. She's right. They can't argue.

And he's not letting her do it.

Funny because it's Jaskier who ends up stopping them both. He spins around. Fucking Jaskier. It's not drastic. It's calculated (mostly); he won't die, really (probably) and he has no attachment to this dream. No death to remember.

The rope might have been spun from magic, but it isn't magic -- at least doesn't have the strength of it -- and it snaps under his hands. ] Get back.

[ Part of him hopes Jaskier will hold Yennefer back where Geralt can't, but there's no time to say anything. He simply makes his way to the edge, ready to swing himself off of it. ]

[ If the situation weren't so dire, she'd have laughed at the Jaskier's comment about being drastic. If she knew how this particular story ended, she'd show him a clear example of a drastic decision, knowing what she'd intended to do when she'd walked towards this cliff the last time.

The rope doesn't even register with Yennefer, already watching Geralt break free and run again. She'd likely need to discuss the small matter of her possible impending doom with Jaskier, hopefully this time not in a field of gossiping reeds. This isn't how she'd wanted things to go, but she couldn't let Geralt be the one to jump. She couldn't let him attempt to make that sacrifice for her again -- to try and save her life. It was too familiar of a sensation and she had no intention of sitting back and letting it happen.

The rope teleports with her, unsure if Jaskier also came along -- appearing far enough forward that she has a second to try and push Geralt back as she throws herself over the edge with no hesitation. She can only hope Jaskier is either smart enough to let go or it works quickly enough that she doesn't accidentally drag him with her. ]

[ That damn teleport. Her sudden grasp catches him off guard. Fuck. He's quick enough to grab her arm, but not to pull her back up. He follows her right over the edge instead, his grip tight around her.

If he can't stop her, he at least won't let her go alone. (Not this time.)

The ground rushes up around them. Knowing it's not real doesn't keep it from feeling as such. His breath catches in his throat; the flames light the sky red. ]

[If he had time to do it, Geralt was sure to get the cursing out of his life for snapping the rope. He was trying to save these idiots! Dream or not, he had no wish to see them splattered across the ground -- his dreams were quite nice and he didn't want that to change --]

Stop! Fucking stop, you fucking --

[A portal. What he wouldn't give to be able to fucking cast a spell and run like that so easily at the same time. The portal tugs the rope and, stubborn as an ox, Jaskier doubles down on his hold of it. Even as it rips him forward, through the portal, until he's through it, and on the other side is --

A freefall. Open sky. Beautiful.

The ground below the cliff. Not so beautiful.

He screams.

He's screaming when he shoots up in bed, too, certainly loud enough for the masters of the house to hear it.]

[ Whether it's the fall or the collision that wakes him up, it doesn't matter. He hits the floor with a curse, eyes snapping open. Fuck.

He rolls over, reaching immediately for Yennefer. The sheets tangle around them on the ground. But it was a ground -- solid. No cliff. His head spins, and he only vaguely registers the screaming from the other room.

Geralt glances over his shoulder. Jaskier? He looks back, brushing back Yennefer's dark hair. Logically, he knows she must be all right if he is, but -- ]

Yen?

[ She can hear Jaskier yelling, but it's too late. Her decision has been made and he needs to fucking let go of his magical rope and let her do this. She hadn't anticipated Geralt wrapping himself around her. She has a breath of a moment to catch his eyes as they plummet until she collides with something hard and cold.

She doesn't hear Jaskier screaming, her own ears ringing as she tries to put herself back together. Geralts voice cuts through, the touch beginning to dull the usual panic that follows as she tries to remember where she is when something's been more vivid than she wanted. Her eyes finally focus on Geralt, not bothering to attempt to untangle herself as she rolls in against him. She doesn't want to talk about it, or address the moment of comfort she's seeking now. She just needs to drown out everything as she gets her bearings back. Jaskier couldn't scream forever, and she needed to have this before they never spoke of it again.

Pressing her face into his chest, she exhales. ]

You should've let me do it.

[ There she is. His hand goes up to her back, holding her close. Like her, he lets himself have this. It's been some months since he's learned of Sodden. Her fate. He hasn't let himself believe it to be true, and a part of him still doesn't want to, but --

Tonight brings it too fucking close. Perhaps that's the real reason he'd been so desperate to escape the dream. Before he could see it happen in front of his eyes. ]

I won't let you go alone.

[ It's a promise. If they ever find a path back home, he'll follow her to Sodden this time. Whatever waits for them there will wait. ]

[He, luckily, doesn't have enough breath to scream for long. He grabs the blanket on top of him, pulling out of the dream and back into. This. The room he'd borrowed in the house of his bonded, where he was left shivering, sweating.

Fuck. He rubs his face with both hands, catching his breath. You can't get hurt in dreams. This was different. All of it had felt much more intimately real. Especially the fall. Where he'd lost his breath. Felt the wind buffeting his body. The ground rising up. The sharp, sudden impact --

He pushes out of bed and scrambles down the hall to the room he knows the two of them sleep in. When he pushes open the door, he almost panics again. The bed is empty. It --

The sheets move and Jaskier runs over, moving to the side of the bed. Where both of his bonded are tangled in sheets, looking all stupid and romantic, except he doesn't notice because he's throwing himself on top of the two of them and embracing them tightly, maybe with a hitch in his breath.] You scared the shit out of me! Oooh, I could kill you myself. [He pulls back a little.] Everyone okay? No broken limbs?

[ She looks up at Geralt when he speaks, searching his eyes -- a slew of emotions running through her. She reaches up to cup his face, her thumb stroking over his cheek. They both know that isn't possible and, as much as she'd like to, there were certain things she didn't allow herself to indulge. All she could do was take advantage of the chances they'd had here to begin a process of moving forward before it was ripped away. ]

Geralt...

[ Whatever else she might've said in response for a conversation they were apparently going to have entangled on the floor is cut short at the burst of sound and movement. Yennefer doesn't look up and she has no intention of apologizing for jumping off the cliff. It needed to be done and her privacy was too important to her to being rash in an attempt to hold onto a fragment of what was left in Sodden.

The sudden weight and almost bone-crushing hug earns a furrowed brow -- not that Jaskier can see it, Yennefer letting her hand fall as she buries her face back in Geralt's chest. ]

No broken limbs.

[ She won't even bother with lying about everyone being okay because she is most certainly not, but admitting it out loud isn't in the plans -- future or otherwise. ]

[ The door flies open, Jaskier's footsteps announcing himself long before that. Whatever else he meant to say dies on his tongue. For the best, perhaps. He lets his hand rest in her hair, and doesn't shake Jaskier off like he might've another time.

Knowing the two of them are safe is enough. There's comfort to be had in that, however small. ]

Fine. [ Physically, anyhow. He glances over his shoulder at Jaskier. The bard's heart is pounding like a drum, a stutter in the silence. He says nothing of Jaskier's outburst. It's warranted, for once. ] You?

[ He hadn't meant for Jaskier to follow them over that edge. Nor to witness the two of them falling. Dark images are no stranger to him and Yennefer, but he knows Jaskier isn't like them. ]

[Jaskier gives them a tight hug and, drawing back, reads the room quite sufficiently. As much as it's quite obvious he interrupted something, there was no question the two of them had been there. In the dream. All three of them, together in Yennefer's head.

And watching her hit the ground with Geralt --

Bile rose in his throat. He backs off. Though it was months ago, the horrible defense Geralt had against getting the bond pops, nearly magically, back into his head. That, should something happen to him, because of bad luck or a curse or whatever it is they return to (if they do, he thinks), that Jaskier could be dragged into death with them.

Funny. He so willingly embraces it, apparently.]

Fine. Hale and whole. Mostly. [He sets himself back, fixing his nightshirt as he stands. The flush in his cheeks is entirely from panic this time, and though they're safe, he cannot get his heard to stop thumping.] I'm sure we all want to get back to sleep. [He clears his throat. I see I'm interrupting something.] I'm glad you're all right. I'll -- go back to bed.

[He's afraid somehow, in between their lives and the dream, he has missed some secret promise that the sorceress and the witcher made to each other.] I've been researching sleeping draughts further, so if... you know, if you need anything.

[ She can feel his strong reaction and fuck. She was barely capable of seeking out comfort for herself that trying to extend that to someone else is truly a challenge.

Yennefer swallows down just how much she wants to let him leave, aware of just how traumatic of an experience it was as a whole. It's haunts her truly and deeply in most of her sleeping hours. A cursed reminder of her own decisions coming back to bite her in the ass.

Heavy grief and regret rolls off of her for a moment before she swallows it down, pointing at the bed and looking at Jaskier. ]

Sit down. [ It's technically a request, but she's already untangling herself from the sheet and walking over to her wardrobe through the curtains to fetch something to cover herself with. While there were times where she didn't care about being nude, she'd shared enough of herself tonight and she had no intentions of going back to sleep anytime soon. ]

[ The heavy scent of fear and regret hangs in the air. Jaskier is obviously not fine. Funny, considering how much shit Jaskier gives him for doing the same. Claiming he's fine when he's not.

His gaze lingers on Jaskier, searching. He's willing to let Jaskier leave if that's what Yennefer needs. He can look in on his friend in a bit, separately, if he has to.

As it turns out, he doesn't. In some ways, it no longer surprises him, that Yen has invited Jaskier to stay. Geralt gets up with her, reluctant to stray too far right now. Still. They could all use something more than silence. A drink, especially. ]

Stay here. [ He plucks his trousers off the floor, pulling them on as he makes his way down the winding stairs. The cabinets have more than a fair share of liquor in it: he picks a bottle of brandy and returns with three glasses in his hand.

He offers two of the glasses over. It's easier to focus on both of his bonded, even with all the broiling emotions in the air. It means he can push aside his own feelings. They can be dealt with later when he's alone. (Or not at all, more like.) ]

[The surprise that crosses his expression is quite obvious. Not only Geralt, but Yennefer? It is a request, but it doesn't sound like one, and in a strange way, he's thankful for it. His heart and his head have taken in too much in the last few moments to truly think of much beyond a second ahead.

He sits on the edge of their bed. The state of their undress is nothing he hasn't seen before, frankly, and he is so far beyond the ability to care.]

I suppose I have no choice, do I? [He smiles, which is more an automatic movement of the edges of his lips. Are you all right? he wants to ask again, to Really ask it, but honestly, he can't hold the answer. He doesn't notice how he shivers.

Any traveler of the Continent is not immune to death. Bodies strewn everywhere you go, from war, from monsters. But Jaskier has never been so intimately there, in the moment, of someone's perishing -- someone who is very dear to him.

And then both. At the same time. Even an immortal and a witcher could not survive the broken edges of their bodies hitting the ground. The thump, the crack, the wet of it.] I don't need any -- any fussing.

[He blinks and in some moment between where he began speaking and felt he's finished, Geralt is back and giving him a glass. The liquid rocks unsteadily.] I know it was only a dream. As I said.

[ She is doing her best to keep her own bitterness at bay, knowing this is a lot for someone who's led a fairly happy life to take in. Yennefer takes her time tying the dress around herself, choosing to remain standing once Geralt returns.

And it takes everything she has in her at the mention of it being a dream again as a wave of emotional pain simmers before she can swallow it down with a healthy amount of the brandy. Yennefer should let him have this, to live in the illusion that it was somehow much more exaggerated than the reality of the situation. Names and faces begin rolling through her mind, the sensation of connections severing as each of them died.

She should let him have this. But she's tired and raw. Any other time, she'd have let it go, bottled it back up and moved the fuck on. She can't let this go, though. She can't let him lump their deaths in with everyone else's. The others who gave their lives that day deserved so much better than that. ]

Which part was only a dream, Jaskier?

[ She doesn't intend for it to sound like a trap, but here they are. She'll apologize later. ]

[ He curls his fingers loosely around his glass. The air is heavy. He's only mentioned Sodden in passing to Jaskier. For good reason: it's both private and not his story to tell.

Not as if he'd been there. (He should've been. If he hadn't...But she wouldn't have wanted him there. Not back then.)

He means to simply offer his presence while Yennefer and Jaskier gather themselves. Words of comfort are not his greatest strength. When Yennefer speaks up, though, his gaze grows penetrating.

He knows her well enough that he senses what she might be doing. It's the last thing any of them need. They're all fucking raw. Her especially, and he doesn't want Jaskier unwittingly opening any further wounds. ]

Yen. [ He says it softly, but there's an edge. Not now. ]

Edited 2021-02-12 03:55 (UTC)

[ She's hardly much better than Geralt at comfort, nobles at Court often trying to use her shoulder as one to weep upon. Only to be met by a distinct and usual lack of empathy from her unless she needed to stay in their favor. And even then, they learned quickly, she was not the one to go to for gossiping and idle conversation if they desired anything more than a neutral sounding board that didn't react.

She didn't have the mind to bolster and comfort others the way Tissaia did. Walking that fine line between cruelty and kindness that often accompanied hard truths. That kind of skill came with time and she hadn't roamed the world long enough to get there, nor did she expect to after--

She picks up on the edge in his voice. The warning. It earns a look, wanting a focal point for her emotions. Unwilling to admit just how rattled she still is -- how much she'd rather yell than have a true conversation about everything. Nostrils flaring for a moment, she finishes the last of what's in her glass before letting her gaze return to Jaskier. Taking a breath, she reins her emotions back in, letting it all settle back into a dull buzz rather than a tidal wave. Quieter and quieter until it's barely noticeable, expression once again schooled. Bottled and controlled. ]

It was a lot to take in for someone... perhaps inexperienced in the more intimate moments of death when it's a familiar face. That particular memory is horrific enough without us making it worse.

[ It's as close to an apology as she can muster right now, but it's a sight better than what she'd originally said. ]

[Between one moment and the next, Jaskier goes from being fairly sure what is going on -- some semblance of reassurance for himself, in the moment -- to feeling as if his legs have slipped out from underneath him. He looks at Yennefer, letting the words settle because he feels the barb in her tone. Perhaps another time he would be brought in by it, but at the moment he feels intensely tired.

Then again, fighting about nothing would be so much easier, wouldn't it?

It's a painful reminder that the two of them, though in the moments could be quite human, could also appear quite detached from it. Hard, sharp, prickly edges on every side.

He blinks when he finally finds his voice.] Memory? [He sets his glass down before he drops it.] I thought only -- a nightmare. At first. [Jaskier turns cold. Sharply he realizes that the fall from a cliff may not have been only in the dream.] I am... I'm not sure what to say. [A very rare admittance, even if it has happened before.] Perhaps it is best not to say anything.

[He goes quiet for a moment. A memory. She has mentioned Sodden in passing, as has Geralt, but both have, obviously deliberately, not released details.] I know it's in neither of your natures to accept it, but if there's anything I can do...

[ For a moment, Geralt braces himself for another biting remark. Just thinking about it tires him. The last thing he wants is a fucking fight -- which is always when a fight tends to brew. And yet Yennefer's temper subsiding doesn't make him feel better, either. It reminds him too much of her acceptance of her fate.

He wishes it were in their nature. That he would think nothing of reaching out to hold her and she would think nothing of accepting it. But they are who they are.

Still. He does reach out, brushing the back of her hand, before he drops a blanket on Jaskier's shoulders. Jaskier looks cold, that's all. They don't need him catching ill again. ]

I'll start the fire downstairs. [ Sleep's out of the question tonight. And it's not in his nature to...offer. Not explicitly. But the implication is there: that they can join him, if they'd rather not be alone. (He'd rather not be alone, though admitting it isn't in the cards right now. Not even to himself.) ]

[ Usually exasperation and exhaustion are disastrous combinations, but tonight? Somehow... Some fucking how she'd reeled herself back in. Even if it meant it might be worse later, that something else could possibly set her off a week from now or a month from now. She didn't want to weaponize any of this, but old habits die hard.

She almost catches his hand when Geralt touches her, but she stops herself. No. Not yet. Yennefer couldn't trust her own emotions to remain whole if she leaned on Geralt again so quickly. That moment had come and gone already. And for once, Jaskier's struggle to find the right words is fine. She didn't want him filling the silence and possibly making this already harder than it was. Yennefer somehow manages to bite back a comment about unwanted pity, knowing that's not what Jaskier means with his offer. ]

There's nothing to be done. Not tonight and not for this. [ Grabbing a wrap out of the wardrobe, she winds it around herself, letting Geralt leave to start the fire. Any other time, she'd have left Jaskier up here to make the decision for himself, but that wasn't an option. Not right now. This was something she'd lived with for months, chasing the 'what if's with the full context of how it escalated to that point. She starts to head to the door before turning to face the other man, already regretting this. ]

I will answer one question about Sodden. You don't have to decide on it right now, but the offer expires at dawn.

[ A courtesy she'll extend to Geralt as well. It was one thing to keep the events vague when she was the only one who knew the truth, but that wasn't possible any longer. And this wasn't something she could quickly work through and move past -- couldn't assume they'd just bury it without a second thought. Not while so emotionally connected to two other people. Even if she was fairly certain neither planned to call her on her shit if she lied about current feelings.

She doesn't wait for Jaskier's answer, also not giving herself a chance to take the offer back -- quickly descending the stairs to grab a bottle of something with a bit more bite than the brandy. Yennefer takes her time in the kitchen, just standing at the counter for a long moment and staring out into the quiet of the night beyond the large windows. She waits, trying to center herself before returning to the large sitting room, settling on one of the couches as she refills her glass and sets the bottle on a nearby table.

This was not what she expected from tonight, but there wasn't much she could do other than continue moving forward. ]

[The blanket startles him a little, the weight suddenly around his shoulders, but without thinking he pulls it around him and buries into it. Yes, he was cold. Quite cold. The whole mood between them is frigid, and it doesn't have an apparent source. All of them, maybe. He glances up and watches Geralt leave, about to follow him out of habit. But something keeps him there.

It's not often he and Yennefer share time together without the Witcher. Even rarer that it should be so serious a topic, and rarer than any gemstone that Yennefer should offer any part of herself to him. It has taken him two decades to get what he has out of Geralt, and there are years and years he's never even vaguely heard of; in comparison, Yennefer is a tome locked in a crypt he'll never enter and never know the existence of.

He watches her quietly, too. The violet of her eyes, the pull of the Bond between them. It is much more than he ever expected, honestly.

He has no idea what to ask. And Yennefer is gone before he can think of anything, anyway. He's left alone in the cold aftermath, the cracking of their bodies dimly echoing in his head. The battle of Sodden still feels so much like a dream... especially when it has not happened for him. He's not sure it ever will.

With a sigh, the blanket wrapped around him, he follows them downstairs after a few minutes in the quiet have passed. What is he supposed to ask? Do you really think you died? Were you alone in the end? Who died? Why were you even there?

Would you ever let us share the burden with you?

Questions, he thinks, he's sure, that she wouldn't answer regardless.

Jaskier goes to the kitchen as well, though he gathers small things for all of them: crackers he ordered from Karen's bakery, and a fine gouda and a fine goat cheese, as well as a bottle of wine he'd kept in his room as a reward after one of his quests.

He takes the arranged tray and a few wine glasses, in case they want to partake, and takes the seat on the other side of the couch. He pours Yennefer a glass, offering it.] Here. I've been told it's one of the finer vintages of Aefenglom.

Edited 2021-02-16 05:47 (UTC)

[ The fire lights easily with a match tossed in. Not quite the same as before, but at least there's no need to bother with flint and steel. He can hear Jaskier and Yennefer upstairs. He pretends he doesn't, and settles on the rug just by one of the couches.

They do join him, one by one.

As Yennefer puts the bottle down, Geralt takes it up, forgoing glasses altogether as he tips it back. He knows Jaskier has questions; they're not his answers to give nor does he want to, either. The uncertainty of home leaves him wondering what it all means. Both Cirilla's and Yennefer's fate remain...unknown at best.

And he can't help feeling it all comes down to him.

Food is the last thing on his mind; he takes a cracker, anyway, if only so Jaskier doesn't fuss any further over how he's feeling. Yennefer did not take his hand earlier -- expected, in truth -- so he doesn't offer it again, though he stays close by where she sits on the couch. ]

[ Staying in that room with him was too much. Not that she expected much better downstairs. If she knew Geralt was taking on such a heavy burden, she'd have at least done a bit to assuage him. At least, regarding her own fate. There was nothing he could do to change that, not in her eyes.

Yennefer makes a point to brush her hand against Geralt's, mirroring his actions upstairs before Jaskier joins them. She'd smile if the mood wasn't quite so heavy, taking the offered glass. Her other sits on the table next to the bottle, free for Geralt to take should he choose. But she has no objections to also drink that later. She had a feeling she was going to need it if she was going to be candid.

Yennefer offers a soft thanks before bringing it to her lips to taste. It takes just about all her strength to not just drain this glass as well, but she manages somehow. At least until she looks up at Geralt. Somehow, extending that offer to Jaskier was easier. Likely because it was less dangerous in his hands. Geralt knew more, was likely more willing to push boundaries on her limitations -- aware she might actually answer tonight. Fuck.

She had to say it, though. Before the Bard spoke and before she could learn if Geralt overheard the offer. ]

I already told Jaskier, but... You can both ask a single question about Sodden. Now that you've seen it, it's hardly something I can-- [ Bury. Avoid. Ignore. Refuse. Her gaze drops to the fire, clearing her throat. ]

Offer expires at dawn.

[The silence between them gives him plenty of time to mull over the offering. A thousand questions all collide for the opportunity to be spoken. To be answered. He's a bloody bard, and a nosey one at that; of course he wants to know everything. And there would've been a time he didn't hesitate with Yennefer, knowing full well she would either ignore him or threaten him after.

Jaskier drinks his wine, eats a cracker, and offers his own bottle to join the rest on the table.

Of course she gives Geralt the same offer. It's generous. More than she needs to offer either of them, considering the circumstances.

Jaskier sighs, rolling a hand through his hair.] I'm not trying to be the better man here -- don't you dare laugh. Yet, after careful consideration, I think it is only fair that I forfeit my question. [He reaches to touch Yennefer's hand as well, as brief as it is.] I appreciate the gesture. I do. I'd love nothing more to understand the machinations of your mind, Yennefer, but this is -- It's your life. Not a fairytale.

[ Geralt looks over at her as she touches him, concern still furrowing his brows but a little less so than before. His fingers curl lightly around hers, tucked between their bodies.

The air feels fragile. So he lets Jaskier go first. As strange as it might seem to say, he trusts Jaskier to speak more than he does himself. Jaskier's relationship with Yennefer is...simpler.

He's surprised she extends the offer to him, for the same reason she's hesitant to do so. He does know exactly what to ask that might take advantage of it. He won't. There's a lot he hasn't told her that he should, about why he'd been near Sodden in the first place that night, and he knows any question he asks will only bring that to light, too.

Glass houses and all. He does want to tell her. It's just that now is hardly the best time. ]

Perhaps we could use a fairytale tonight.

[ It is not, exactly, a request for one of Jaskier's songs because he would never be caught doing that. But...what the hell. A couple hours remain until sunrise, they're not sleeping again, and he'd rather not have a silence that might spark more conversation. ]

[ She doesn’t say anything, doesn't honestly have the energy to try and argue. To remind them that their chivalry is unnecessary. It was rare that someone didn't take advantage of her kindness, but she knew this wasn't the case. Not right now. However, if they were attempting to protect her, it was already too late. A somber fact she's loathe to remind them of. Not when Geralt had unexpectedly taken her hand and the supportive touch of Jaskier before the suggestion for a fairytale.

But Jaskier was right, her life was hardly something that deserved to be set to an uplifting tune. It wasn't a story to read to children as they drift off to sleep, a wish for pleasant dreams and wishes of their own for a happy ending.

She's not sure when it happens, her head finding Geralt's shoulder after a few more drinks, but he's warm and the music is beautiful. Enough of a distraction to still her wandering mind, even if for a moment. Her gaze fixates on the fire, the percussive crackling of the logs fading as her eyes close. Yennefer curls into Geralt as she falls back to sleep, unable to deal with any other surprises. Just needing to not be alone tonight, too exhausted to allow her pride to stand in the way of that. ]

[Admittedly, it's a little off-putting that Yennefer doesn't make a response, simply because, bond or not, he doesn't understand her mind. Of course Geralt is similar -- they have known each other far, far longer, and he understands more than most -- but there are sometimes these small reminders that they have lived two lifetimes, perhaps three, in the time he's spent in one.

Yet Jaskier perks up almost immediately. He knows a request when he hears one, whether it's shy, or shouted, or a small hinting. Of course. What a perfect way to push the night behind them.]

Ah! I have just the thing.

[He retrieves his lute that is always nearby when he's in their home, tuning it gently just to make sure that there is not a single wrong note. The point is to... clear the air, in a way, or to at least soften it.

Jaskier plays a lovely little ballad; never quite as popular as he felt it deserved, but perfect for the gentler moments. The house carried his voice, the strumming of the instrument that fit perfectly in his lap. Somehow, without breaking in the song, he ended up on the other side of Geralt, leaning against him. Hard not to crave his touch down here in the cooler rooms of the house, even with a fire in the grate. The touch of a Bonded.

It's a good night. Somehow, despite the way it started, it ends on a rather perfect note to him.]

[ coming soon. ]

[ #yolo - feel free to hit me up on plurk @

hoopskirts or PM me if you're looking for something specific or want to run through an idea. ]

( open ) Open up next to you and my secrets become your truth…

( closed ) dream sharing: disaster trio

Yennefer's Dream

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Preaching to the Choir

Spirited Away

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