middaeg | ( OPEN ) february catch-all

Drinking with your horse is terribly depressing.

[It lightens the mood, though. Without noticing, really, he manages another bite. Because He does like Roach, in all her incarnations; he's personally met three (?) that he can recall. It's a nice place to be, the memories where he stumbled in on Geralt talking to Roach, or the way he would even mumble something to her as if he'd forgotten there was real human company nearby.

Or, specifically, to complain aloud about Jaskier where he could hear it.

Jaskier blinks at him.] Oh? [He pauses. There was a vampire in that room with him, once. One of the first monsters they put him with. It doesn't mean anything. He tells himself that. Thinks it again.] You make friends with the strangest people, don't you? [He pulls at a piece of cheese, tugging it into small, round little balls.] I should like to meet them. [Because anyone who could stand Geralt, who could make friends with him, was just as interesting.] So they became... un-vampired?

We're not friends.

[ It's a reply as automatic as anything. He does, in fact, consider Alucard a friend—or as close to one as he tends to have. Out of the Mirrorbound, he's probably spent the most time with him, even if their conversations are brief.

Really, he's just glad Alucard doesn't seem to have been caught up in the chaos with the Circle. Enough have been affected as it is. ]

Human mother. Or so he says. He walks in daylight, so if he remains a vampire, he isn't one of this world.

[ The vampires as they're known here are not capable of that. And they have a look to them—one he doesn't see in Alucard. He suspects like him, Alucard has been unmade in some ways by the land's magic.

He thinks Jaskier might like the man. Perhaps he'll introduce them some time. ]

[He smiles at the corners of his lips. How many times he's heard those words himself. Then they must be good friends. As Geralt and himself are, of course.

It reminds him that he has yet to thank him. Or Yennefer. Properly. For... everything. The thought they would come, and that he could feel them through the bond, he thinks, kept him more sane than being alone would have.]

You would know better than I. [About what sort of vampire he must be. Ex-vampire? Not one of Aefenglom's changed ones. A... half-human?

It makes his head spin. But it's an easy topic to float on, because it has nothing to do with what happened to him.]

It makes me wonder what I would have been. If I hadn't been blessed with magic in the way I was. [He folds one of the balls of cheese in between two crackers, squishing it flat.] Perhaps one of those cute little fauns.

[ Geralt hums his acknowledgement, though he doesn't clarify further. He hasn't asked too deeply about Alucard's nature, nor much about his life in general. It seems less important in this world where they've all started anew in one way or another.

He watches Jaskier eat, relieved that he's doing so. Not that he's ever imagined himself becoming a damn mother hen, but... ]

Not an annoying little fox?

[ He wonders if Jaskier will still run with him during the full moons. Doubtful. Jaskier likely won't venture far out of the Haven any time soon—and Geralt isn't sure he'd leave either of them the upcoming lunar cycle. At least the garden is big enough even for a wolf of his size. ]

[Jaskier's shoulders shake, as close as he'll come to laughing again for now.] A Turnskin fox. I should only be so lucky. [He remembers his day with the one pointed black ear atop his head. Yet he cannot grasp his mindset. That it had nearly ruined several days for him. He'd been so humiliated, to finally feel a grasp on his magic to have it turn back against him.

Having a little fox ear for a day had felt so important.

How stupid. He must seem like a child to them.

Perhaps they wouldn't have caught me if I were a fox. He bit his lip and did not say it. Even in a low moment, he didn't want to press the idea that any part of it was Geralt's fault. It wasn't. And like that feral full moon, he did not want to convince him otherwise.]

I haven't used magic since. [He rubs his fingers together, waiting for the small sparks to appear.] A shame the change doesn't change my mind for a time. It would be quite simple being a fox, I think. Only caring about being obnoxious and stealing eggs.

[ It's common for Geralt to let Jaskier say what he will in silence, and now is no different. He keeps his thoughts to himself, knowing Jaskier is fortunate to have come here with magic instead of being forcibly changed.

And yet. Here they are, his friend carrying marks he should never have to. ]

You will again. [ He senses Jaskier will pick himself up sooner or later. Or maybe that's just what he has to believe. That he should bring him home to only lose him again -- it's not a thought he wants to entertain. And it's not one Jaskier needs him to entertain, either.

A long pause passes. He glances over to the far end of the yard, where the stable is near the woods. He doesn't often offer. He's never offered, in fact. If they ride together, it is always Jaskier on his own horse, borrowed or bought for long stretches of traveling. But right now...right now, he just wants to see Jaskier agree to get out of this fucking house. ]

Come ride. Won't be far.

Yes. Yes, I suppose that's the nature of healing, isn't it?

[He was healing. In some ways. The infection, the Coven witches assured him, was driven from his body -- aided by a resistance he'd built up with his frequent trips to the Cwylds and playing for the infected outside the cities. Jaskier, in all of this mess, has never really stopped and considered how he was almost one of them. Stripped of his home. Surviving on what was handed to him.

He goes quiet again, picking at the food without really thinking about it. No magic, very little eating, and he hasn't left the house. He feels he must be a ghost at this point, for how they treat him. For how he must be this terrible, soul-sucking thing to be around.

No. Geralt has never offered. Not in all the years he's known him. So when he does, it startles him. How bad must it be, for Geralt to change his ways after all this time?

He looks back at the rising shadow of their manor, the pool just beyond the barrier that protects them from snow now. Though he doesn't leave it now, it feels overwhelming to be in sometimes.

He thinks... Yennefer could use a break from him. From his presence. And though a pang of fear runs through him, he has never felt unprotected in Geralt's presence.] All right. [He sets the food aside, making as if to pick something up -- of course. He'd come out here with nothing. No lute, no notebook. He looks up to Geralt, a bland smile across his lips.] You're getting softer in your old age.

[ For a moment, he thinks Jaskier will turn him down. He's hoping the bond will help Jaskier feel better about venturing out, and a small weight lifts off his shoulders when the bard agrees.

He grunts. At least some things never change between them. ] Shut up.

[ Fuck, maybe he is. Look at him, taking a bard on a ride, bringing him a platter of food. He's not even taken a job since Jaskier has returned. Nothing beyond small errands that won't take him away for more than a day at a time.

Geralt makes his way to the stable, kept warm with magic. Roach has been happier since they've moved her into a larger stable; she greets them with a snort. He supposes it's nice to see someone's having a grand time as always. No worries that plague when you're a spoiled mare.

He takes a few minutes to saddle her, adjusting the straps before he steps back to let Jaskier on. ]

[Just his usual sort of response, then. There's some comfort in that. Though Jaskier has more often than not been coddled in his life, he quickly floats from craving that small bit of comfort, to being treated as if nothing had changed. The latter feels more like a lie, though, when he knows he has changed. He isn't certain for how long, though.

Getting through each day felt like enough.]

Don't worry. I'm sure plenty are still afraid of you. [Even if he always suspected that was not what Geralt wanted. He says hello to Roach, having spent the last few days around her when his bonded are otherwise occupied, or when he felt even being around them was too much. He will never admit it to Geralt, but he can see the appeal, sometimes, of having only a horse for company. She certainly did nothing that triggered panic in his chest. Even the one time she whipped him with her tail for getting too close to her leg.

He pets down her neck, then, gripping the saddle, pulls his way onto her.] I can't believe you made me wait twenty years for this.

[ Undoubtedly. A large wolf stalking about the city hasn't earned him any favors, especially when he's so easily recognized in either form. He's considered removing his medallion when h shifts -- but the truth is, he doesn't give a shit about being recognized or skirted around warily. It's what he's used to. People are already oddly amiable here as it is. He doesn't need more of that.

It's possible he's been avoiding a few people. Not everyone he'd been able to get out that night. A handful he'd had to leave behind. It's not...guilt, exactly. He knows saving everyone isn't realistic. But he doesn't feel good about it, either. ]

Don't make me regret it.

[ Geralt lingers, helping Jaskier steady himself. He leads her by the reins past the edge of their grounds before he hops on, sending them off on a gentle trot. The air is sweeter out here, crisp in the winter chill. And though silence is usually preferred, he feels it this time, heavy in the air. Jaskier is almost never silent. Now it seems to be more common than not.

He doesn't fill it. What's there to say? At least Jaskier seems calm for the moment. Geralt makes sure to stay where he knows the paths are sunlit, leading them towards a clearing with a lake glittering in the center. He stops there, tethering Roach to a nearby tree. ]

Don't you already?

[It slips out as easily as Jaskier's prodding always does, but after it leaves his lips, it feels different. It makes him go quiet. Not that he thinks that. No, nothing like that. It's --

It's hard not to feel like a useless bit of dough when one is a bit of useless dough. Such morbid thoughts are quite new to him. And yet he has woken every night with nightmares, more than aware that he has jolted those fears down through the Bond. It's the first time he regrets any part of it. That others would feel what he feels so intimately.

On top of suspecting they had felt what he'd felt in the Evergreen Circle's care.

They go in silence, and it's. Fine. Jaskier's hands flit from the already worn leather of the saddle to the fur of the horse's back, to Geralt's hip when he thinks he may lose balance.

Even a simple forest is nearly overwhelming. Sometimes he only looks down so he doesn't have to see the dark between the trees. The flash of eyes that could be there. He knows very well nothing is there. And if it were, Geralt would hear it. And he also has magic. To protect himself.

But --

By the time he looks up, the lake is simply there. As instant as one of Yennefer's portals.] Ah. Your usual haunt. [He slid off Roach carefully. A lake, at least, was about as far as anything could be to that manor.] And we're blessed with a lovely day on top of it.

[ It does feel different. Different enough that Geralt doesn't give his usual remark back: telling him he regretted it yesterday, in fact. Jaskier is not a burden. He knows Jaskier feels that way, but he isn't. It's only that he wishes he were better at...helping, when it comes to shit like this.

All he can do is take Jaskier to a lake. Maybe the fresh air will do some good.

He stretches out on the shore. Thick trees line the edges, covered in a light dusting of snow. They haven't ventured too far into the Wilde—just at the border—but temperatures are already a hint warmer, some of the frost melted and the lake's surface unfrozen. ]

Mm-hmm. [ He picks up a smooth stone, turning it idly in his hands. He's skipped them from time to time when he's here alone. A private thing. One of many private things he does when there are no eyes on him except his horse's. ] Almost as nice as the mountain lakes.

[ There's a wistful edge to his words. He hasn't ever admitted he misses Kaer Morhen. It's not as if he even spends much of his time there. Just...he had been on his way, as he always is for the frost. Now winter has come and nearly gone. ]

[It's the opposite of everything it had been there: it was cold here, but in a natural way, with a thin sheet of snow on everything. He knew the further they went, the warmer it would be, but -- Geralt didn't even need to ask to know that Jaskier would never agree to go any deeper right now. The sun was shining, everything bright. It'd taken a few days until light had stopped hurting his eyes, and he wasn't even sure if that was from being trapped in a basement or from the infection itself.

He watches the rock bounce several times until it sinks.] It's been a while since you've been there, hasn't it?

[Even before they were brought here. Funny. Jaskier has never really had a problem with Aefenglom, as strange and chaotic as it could be sometimes. He realizes how terribly lucky he's been.] Were you going to go? I mean, after the dragon hunt?

[ For awhile, he doesn't yet answer. He rarely talks deeply of Kaer Morhen. It's home for him, but it also isn't home the same way most people interpret it. He's only there a few months out of the year, if that. It holds as many warm memories as it does ones that leave his blood cold. And their numbers have dwindled. Every year he returns, there are fewer and fewer of them to meet him. ]

When the frost came. As usual. [ A handful of winters, they've spent together. Otherwise, they've often parted -- Jaskier for warmer climates, Geralt to the Blue Mountains. ] I'd been on my way before...

[ Well. Here. He doesn't mention that he'd had thoughts of taking Cirilla there to keep her safe. It's too late for that now.

The dragon hunt feels ages ago. So damn much has changed. ]

[Ah. Blissful silence. It's more common than not with Geralt -- he only notices it more though, with the chirping of birds in the background. Realistically, he was not there that long. But he had already had moments where he was sure he would not hear birds again. Nor the ocean. Or a lake, as it were.

He looks out to it, simply watching the water move with the wind, bundling deeper into his cloak.]

Before this mess. [Of course. Geralt's details about his winter retreat were always rare, but Jaskier knew there were some others waiting for him. It must be hard when a witcher didn't show up. Did they assume he was dead now?]

I bet they miss you skulking about. [He throws his own rock. It immediately sinks without skipping once. Of course.] I didn't thank you. I knew... I knew you'd come, the both of you, but I --

[It was different this time. He's never expected anything less of Geralt because Geralt has always been the sort to throw himself into danger to help hapless idiots, even if he would never admit to it. He clears his throat. It doesn't matter.] I always meant to follow you, you know. To come see your secret witcher home.

You don't need to.

[ Jaskier doesn't owe them a damn thing, including gratitude. If anything, he should've done more. Come sooner or...not let him be taken in the first place.

It doesn't matter. Too late to sit on what ifs or to wish it didn't happen. It had and he knows things will never be the same again. But he also knows in time, they'll gather themselves and move on in their own way.

A quiet huff escapes him, imagining Jaskier trying to sneak up behind him through the path to Kaer Morhen. It's not a path just anyone can find nor pass. ]

You'd freeze your dainty ass off. [ A hint of a smile lifts his lips. ] Though you might've won them over with your bawdy drinking songs.

[He tips his head. Of course not. A Witcher does nothing for a thanks in return.

Of course, he wasn't another paying job, either. The two of them could've left him there. And they hadn't. They'd shown up like knights on dragonback, driving back the Evergreen, breaking him out of his cage. Carrying him away.

And staying there with him in the Coven as they drew the infection out of him.

A simple thanks was insufficient in every way. Then again, Jaskier had barely offered them anything lately, anyway. He huffs back, letting the moment go. He doesn't want to dwell on it. It's so... glum.] I can afford a nice fur cloak, thank you. [Though maybe not anymore. He didn't like the idea of someone coming for Geralt for his fur, either. He snorts lightly.] I know I would have. I'm about a hundred times more fun than you've ever been.

[The additional comment being, until now. Geralt is certainly not enjoying himself, toting around a depressed bard to some stupid lake. What were they even supposed to do here? Stand around and talk? Another thing Geralt hates.

He pulls a lock of blackened hair near his eyes. Ah. If he had his knife, he'd cut it off now.] Did you find my knife? I looked --

[His words fail. In the cage. He can't even say the words.]

[ There are shades of Jaskier that remain. He sees it and he's glad to know it isn't entirely gone. ]

Mm. It's home. [ Home. It is now, for them. The three of them. He smells lilac and gooseberries and sage and roses when he enters, and it's all familiar, the scents of his bonded.

He looks over. After a second, he brushes back the lock of black hair that falls over Jaskier's forehead. He's never spoken of his past before. Jaskier has heard rumors, asked questions he occasionally confirms or leaves ambiguous, but that's as far as it's gone.

Things are different now. Jaskier is different. So is he, in a way. Geralt finds himself making a thoughtful sound, letting his hand fall away. He turns back towards the glittering lake. ] I was twelve when I found my first streak of white.

Edited 2021-02-22 08:13 (UTC)

Oh. Home. Of course.

[Home does have a rather sweet sound to it, though it feels just as confining in some ways -- worse still because he confines himself there, despite having freedom to leave.

It may be for the best he didn't think to have it until now. The hallucinations lasted past most of the healing, and there were plenty of nights where he'd startled himself awake, scratching at the black veins in his arms, the mushrooms growing out of his skin, that no longer were there. He knows he wouldn't have hesitated with the knife.

Perhaps its absence in his room was intentional.

The touch surprises him, and it shows in the flinch away. Gods. Of course Geralt's noticed it. Jaskier has, despite his vanity, made an effort to only look in a mirror once. It was plenty. The black is just a reminder that he can't escape from. The scar on his arm as well. It --

Jaskier means to apologize for his behavior, but he doesn't have a chance. What Geralt decides to bring up knocks the wind out of him.

He's known which subjects to breach and which to leave dead in their graves. He asked Geralt once, the nature of his coloring, when they first met. When he was young and spoke every idea that popped into his head. And the reaction Geralt gave him ensured he never asked again.

He reaches back for the Witcher and touches his arm. You don't have to speak on this. But he knew that. Geralt was very deliberate in what he brought up.] And did you think of cutting it off? [He dropped his hand, too.] It won't change anything, will it?

[ He says nothing about the flinch. Instead, his gaze lingers on the horizon. His tail flicks with a mind of its own, the same way his ears turn towards every little noise.

Had he? He's certain he must've tried to or did cut it off, though his memories of that time are haphazard at best. It's been a long time. It's not a part of his life he likes to sit and recall with fondness.

But no. It changes nothing. When he finally answers, he's quiet. ]

You realize the only thing that changes is you. The sooner you accept that, the easier it becomes to move forward.

[ That's all. He knows he's not the same person he was long ago. Not near it. And Jaskier, too, likely will never be who he once was again. But there's room yet to be someone else. It's enough. It has to be, when there's no other choice.

(He likes to believe he's moved forward, at least. Perhaps he hasn't in reality as much as he wants to think it.) ]

[It takes a while for any sort of response, but Jaskier is far too used to it. And where it once annoyed him, he can't help but barely notice it now. Silence is preferable. As deep as he'd been in that basement, it was not often very silent at all.

A bird chirps and he looks overhead to see a flock of them in a line soar overhead.

Hm. Perhaps he should've tried to magic himself a bird instead.

He sits on the bank of the lake and starts pulling his boots off, one by one, barely lifting his gaze when Geralt finally answers.]

I don't want to change. [It sounds petulant, but he doesn't mean it to be. He doesn't want to be anything but what he's always been. He's learned plenty, and seen terrible things, but... he was always able to keep going.

He scrubs through his hair, digging his nails into his scalp. He leans over his knees.] As long as I've known you, it feels as if you've never stopped moving forward.

[Like he never lets himself rest. Or maybe there simply is no rest at all to be had.]

[ It sounds plaintive, if anything. He understands. He buried himself at an early age, to become what he is, and there's a grief that never quite goes away.

Jaskier has always been open with how he feels; now it hums through the magic that binds them, as well, a strangling thread. Not so fresh and painful as it'd been when he'd been held captive, but still an ache. It makes Geralt reach out, resting his fingers gently on Jaskier's knee.

When he moves forward, he isn't looking back. ] The past sometimes nips closer at my heel than I'd like.

[ That's as close as he's ever come to admitting how much it all continues to bother him. Everything. Not only what happened as a boy, but...others. The years pile on; so do his regrets. A bitterness he's often tried to smother but which hasn't ever left him. The feeling that he should be able to do more but can't. That those he's tried to protect or save haven't ever emerged unscathed. ]

Edited 2021-02-23 13:22 (UTC)

[Not that Jaskier is counting, but it 's twice Geralt has touched him now, so he knows... this isn't just about him, as much as he'd like to think so. This, he thinks, must echo deeply to Geralt. He doesn't mean it to. He wishes he could simply be in pain and have no one else feel it. If only because...

Well. There's nothing to be done. Nothing to be done to make this go faster.

He doesn't move from this touch.] As I've always known. You're not very good at pretending otherwise.

[The man has been carrying the brooch off a dead woman for longer than Jaskier has known him. That says enough. He sighs. A week ago he would have been gently poking fun at how morose Geralt was. Something to cheer him up. Or help distract him, at least. Now it's... this.]

Gods. I hope I don't turn horribly cantankerous like you. [He glances at him with the smallest bit of humor.] Do you still -- no. I shouldn't ask. [At one point he was sorry for Geralt. There was no understanding this sort of thing. Not if one hadn't experienced it.] Zack was there. You know him, don't you? [He shook his head. He still couldn't believe it.] Can you imagine, the man said that had happened to him once before? And I thought Destiny was a bitch. She can be even worse than that.

[ Geralt gives a snort. He is good at it, leaning into rumors and the simple fact that no one gives enough of a shit about what a Witcher is feeling to scrutinize him closely. Only Jaskier has ever done so. Jaskier and Yennefer. They know him too well, even long before the bond linked them all together.

For a brief moment, he considers telling Jaskier he can ask. Then the moment slips away and he lets it. Best not to go there, in the end. He nods. ]

When I went back, he was gone. [ Someone must've gotten him out. ] Ran into him in the infirmary later. He asked about you.

[ He should look in on him again. Especially if...Zack was there for Jaskier, when Geralt couldn't be. ]

He was -- [All of his body seizes up, his heart quickening, until Geralt continues on. For a moment, Jaskier can only hold his chest to stop it from bursting. Zack was already a man he would call a friend, and he -- he'd been coughing up his lungs, practically.]

It's good to know he's safe. I met... people in there, like me. The things they'd done to them --

[He vaguely remembers telling Geralt to go back, but not much else. He was... he was still too afraid of the very idea of returning. Even to look at the manor as it was now.] I fear they'll find some way to do it all over again.

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