( OPEN ) february catch-all

[gynvael]

Who: Geralt + Jaskier; Yennefer; You
When: February // Feoveuer
Where: Aefenglom
What: A rescue. Not quite from who you'd expect. + other things as they come.
Warnings: Violence, CW related to the current event.

[ starters in comments. plot with me at discontinued! ]

OPEN: post-kidnapping

CLOSED: Jaskier | Yennefer | Jaskier pt. ii | yennefer + myr

Comments

[cointosser]

Oh, gods. [His stomach turns. He does pull away from Geralt and turn around, cradling his stomach -- this time because he's very sure he's about to vomit, even though curving over makes his middle hurt even worse, the sharp throb of a new bruise.

He listens, though. Easier to do what he's told at the moment. He heals himself so he doesn't, in fact, collapse, because he knows just as well they need to go.]

I'm fine. [He stands again, the bruise at least a dull pain now. He hesitates, though.] I -- should we just leave them there? What did they want with you?

[gynvael]

[ While Jaskier heals himself, Geralt returns to the bodies strewn on the ground. He digs through their pockets, coming up with nothing but scraps -- until the faun, a folded letter tucked away. He takes it without opening it yet. Later. When there's time.

They are, in fact, going to leave them there. What else are they going to do? Bury them? Geralt lets his pace answer the question, leaving the alleyway behind. ]

I followed them. [ He glances sidelong at Jaskier. The bard looks like shit, but he'll be okay. They just need to get home. ] You could've gotten killed.

[cointosser]

[It's much less about burying them than, er, hiding the bodies. Which is. Terrible. Oh, dear. Accessory to murder. He'd even -- maybe one of them --

He couldn't think of it. All he could remember was, in that moment, someone was hurting his friend. And it wasn't a fair fight. Which. Funny. He never used to worry terribly about Geralt. Not even here. And yet -- the sound of that sizzling flesh touching silver. It'd triggered something.

Or the bond had.

Jaskier wipes his lip on his sleeve, bleeding where he'd bitten it once the faun hit him.] Right, yes, because there's plenty in this world that can't kill me. Are you really going to do this now? After this fucking long? [He spits blood on the cobblestones, looking around for his dagger. It was a gift. It's important. He just... he won't look at their faces. (The one that Geralt cleaved in half.)] Where's my knife?

[gynvael]

[ His grunt in reply suggests he won't, but only because he doesn't want to do it right now with Jaskier, specifically. He's already not happy he was caught off guard. The last thing he wanted was for Jaskier to have been hurt because of that.

He wraps some fabric around the burn on his palm and kicks Jaskier's dagger with its silver handle towards him. His eyes in the dark can spot the black spiderweb on the veins of some of the bodies. A spreading infection. He decides not to mention it to Jaskier. He doesn't think Jaskier received enough contact for it to spread. And if the city is too busy with its own problems, which it often is, it might be enough for the gruesome scene to be filed away as the cause of the infected gone mad. A common thing.

Either way, he has little interest in being near the scene when the sun rises. ] Let's go.

[cointosser]

[Much easier to focus on finding his knife. Dagger. Whatever. Ah! There it is.] Thank you. [He wouldn't be losing it tonight. Or ever. It was rare, and irreplaceable. Not the knife itself, really, but that GEralt had gone out of his way to give him a gift.

To keep him alive. A song could so easily be written about the irony, having used it to keep Geralt alive instead.

He wiped it off without looking too hard at it. Thankfully, being a witch hadn't given him night vision.

Jaskier has already made distance between himself and the bodies, and he's eager to get farther. Even if it feels incredibly wrong to simply walk away. Not that he has much sympathy for someone starting a fight with Geralt, but...

He walks to the opening of the alley, looking over to the right, the same path he'd taken as he followed. Something pulls at him. Sharply.]

Geralt. [He frowns.] There's more magic. Feel it?

[Coming closer. Is it more of them? In the distance, there's a footstep that stops abruptly.

Jaskier barely blinks in the time it takes. A portal rips open right beside him, a pair of clawed, scaled hands grabbing him around the middle. They rip him into the portal with blinding, desperate speed, his dagger slipping out of his hand in surprise. It knocks against the cobblestones as the portal closed, snapping shut into nothing.]