March Catch-All [Open, Mostly]

[cointosser]

Who: Jaskier and you!
When: All through Mareuer (March)
Where: Aefenglom, mainly the shopping/entertainment districts
What: Livin' life as an ex-Cwyld kidnappee who has never had a bad thing happen to him in his life, singing sad songs about his lost love, learning how to dance again the way he danced with Lightning.....
Warnings: Body horror in the third prompt for Yen, mentions of last month's plot.

I. CELION DION IN THE CAR ALONE WHILE CRYING; Aefenglom; early Mareuer in the Shopping District

[After the time between his current moment and his last second in that cage lengthens, Jaskier becomes more... not quite himself, but certainly more than a shade of the bright bard he previously was. It seems fair that as things become a little brighter, he must be brought down by even more bad news.

It's one of his rare decisions to leave his, Geralt and Yennefer's home and take a walk around the city. As much as he wishes he could simply go for a walk on his own, he asks Geralt to come with him, throwing his lute onto his back. Not, he imagines, he'll find much use for it. It's simply something constantly by his side. A bit like Geralt as of late. Geralt shifts before they leave, and honestly, Jaskier doesn't question it. He understands the implicit desire behind it.

Once in the depths of the city, he doesn't really mean to go looking for her. He thinks seeing a familiar face -- perhaps one that managed to escape all of the Evergreen Circle's machinations -- will help cheer him up. Even if Lightning is possibly the last person, next to Geralt, to seek for cheerfulness. He ducks into Karen's patisserie (who at least gives him a warm welcome) only to come to find Lightning is not there, in her usual pink, frilly apron. The one that matches her hair so well.

Karen twists a towel between her hands as she shakes her head, glancing over his shoulder to peer at the wolf waiting for him outside. Sorry to say she isn't here anymore. Didn't come into work one day and I checked with the Coven. Back home, they say.

Jaskier stands quietly in the middle of the patisserie, feeling awkward.]

Oh. I see. [While some faces he's met before he's not seen again, this is the first time the loss is so visceral and in his face. Before the Circle's intervention, he had been working on a very special song, just for her, something to play on a quiet moment as they drank coffee or tea. Jaskier could say he had set aside a piece of his heart for her. And he, of course, had imagined their relationship evolving --]

Well, thank you for letting me know. I'll come by for a few more of those croissants later. They're a favorite in the house.

[Jaskier gives her a polite smile after buying a nice, fresh loaf for Geralt. He steps outside to meet his Bonded. The weather is warming finally, and the sun is out. A nice day.] I was thinking I might play a bit.

[Geralt nods and follows him. They find a nice little spot in the sun near the patisserie with a patch of grass and well-cultivated flowers. The giant white wolf curls up in the sun and Jaskier sits against him, cradling his lute in his lap. Perhaps not a waste he'd brought it with him, then.

Occasionally he leaves Geralt when the wolf begins to sleep (and only fair, for his sleep has been so terrible as of late) to walk as he strums. He plays a song (minus the Office reference) off and on, and another for Lightning as he experiments with a word that would rhyme with lightning ("Bitening my heart," he sings, then wrinkles his nose, crossing the words out the notebook laid across his leg as he mutters, "Fuck, I'm terrible, aren't I?"), his booted foot tapping to the rhythm. If one has heard Jaskier perform before, these songs are opposite of his normal jovial, upbeat tunes, and not quite performed with the sort of energy he's had before.]

((ooc: Geralt will be in the background snoozing, so mention if you want to directly interact with him or both of them!))

II. SHADOWS LINGER EVEN IN DAY; Aefenglom; closer to mid-Mareuer somewhere in the Entertainment District

[Nearly a month later, Jaskier is able to, at least occasionally, go out on his own. He no longer flinches at the sound of his own name, which is quite reassuring. Still, his sleep is often interrupted, even though the physical scars on his body left by the growing Cwyld mushrooms have nearly gone completely. Mostly it's only the original scar they sprouted from, his skin split by Geralt's teeth, that still remains.

With the weather warmer, Jaskier has rolled his sleeves up a little. Enough that some of the scars may peek through.

He's felt good. For a week, even more. And yet when he steps deeper into the bright lights and loud noises of the Entertainment District, Jaskier begins to feel he's made a mistake. As fucking frustrating as it is -- this was a place he flourishes. Now people sometimes brush too close and he backs away, or there's a laugh quite too loud, or he passes by a few squirrels or cats tucked into cages, curled up with a tail around them --

That does it. Bile rises in his throat and he rushes past a music hall with the distant sound of strings, but when he catches the smell of what is, undeniably, cooking mushrooms nearby, he loses it. A chill rushes through him, his body shaking, and he ducks into an alley with the urge to vomit. He can feel it all over again, the heated pain in his right arm from the cutting. The cultivating. Even if the voice does not echo in his ears anymore, Jaskier distinctly remembers what it sounded like.

What the Cywld itself sounds like, as it urges its host to spread it.]

It's gone. I'm rid of it. This is all -- [He shakes his head to himself.] A terrible memory.

[Boy, it's good no one can see him having a breakdown in this darkened alley.]

III. SHADOWS EXPAND BY NIGHT; Aefenglom; the Witcher household; closed to Yennefer

[Truthfully, it was miraculous since that time in Yennefer's head they've managed to keep themselves separate, especially when Jaskier spent, at least for a week, more often then not his nights shivering to himself, having woken up with a choked scream in his throat. It's done shit for his ability to sing, which is simply the cherry on top.

The fluctuation between intense sadness and righteous anger has done shit good for his heart, too.

And feeling Geralt withdrawing further away from the two of them, whether he means to or not. (Which, of course, he bloody does.) Oftentimes now Geralt simply is absent at night, or in the early morning, and Jaskier hasn't had the balls to ask him why. What it is, specifically, he's doing.

Because it is, of course, something to do with him.

It's another night where Geralt is missing. He's either too tired to keep trying to keep his mind closed or he's let his guard down, and in the end, it doesn't matter. The nightmare doesn't so much creep in as catch him by the ankle and drag him into it. His body is tied down to the ground, the dark Cwyld forests closing in around him. At least, he's sure he's tied -- until he lifts his head to find the mushrooms have spread down his arm so much that they blend in to the ground. Or his hand itself is now part of the ground, melted into the soil as the Cwyld takes over his body.

Enough black he can't see the tone of his skin anymore.

He screams. A light flashes through the forest, bringing a wave of heat. Fire. It's flicking at the tree edges, catching leaves, snapping up the Cwyld mushrooms along the forest floor. Coming for him. They'll burn you when they're done, I suspect. Once they've taken all those lovelies off of your skin. His harpy nurse, lover of the Evergreen Circle, coming along with her feather-tips as sharp as needles. Just a guess. They don't tell me everything around here, but it's been a delight to watch.

The cold of the cage bars plays with the heat of the fire, and just behind the flickering flames, bright gold eyes are waiting to finish the job. Somehow, even over the fire, he can hear the growls from the monsters.

Much more patient than the ones that waited for him in the Circle's basements.]

((Feel free to add a wildcard prompt if it tickles your fancy! Jaskier will be wandering Aef as always, sometimes with a white wolf Turnskin (i.e., Geralt) following behind him or watching from the distance. You can also ping me at scathefire if you have any starters you'd like!))

Comments

[cointosser]

[Jaskier could be jumpy at the best of times, but the cry he emits when a voice startles him in the dark is not near as amusing as it might have once been. His fingers spark as he raises one in front in defense, the other clutching his chest almost dramatically (except it did, in fact, feel like his heart may burst.) The world spins for a moment.

Fuck. Fuck. Just what he had coming to him, wasn't it?]

You scared the shit out of me. [Ah, look. Stating the obvious. He rubs his eyes, his magic evaporating. He's not. There. Anymore.

Recognition rings dimly through his head after Jaskier stares. It's -- oh. Shit.] Brennan. [Oh, good. Wonderful. The perfect sort of person to watch him have a breakdown. To overhear it.] I -- [Could lie. But not much point, was there?] No. I haven't. [His hands raise, then drop.] As you can see.

[outofthebreach]

[ He stills at the sight of sparking fingers, holding his hands up to keep them where Jaskier can see them. That had been foolish of him, in retrospect. ]

Sorry. I'll endeavor to walk louder in the future. Habit, I'm afraid.

[ He just shoots the witch an understanding look and inclines his head. ]

Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. Although I doubt lurking in shadowed alleyways is going to do much for your nerves, either. [ Just saying. ] Come on, I can buy you a drink? ...Or maybe some tea?

[ Would chamomile even help here? ]

[cointosser]

Yes, well, we don't all have wolf ears.

[It's said lightly, though, immediately reaching for a joke to lighten the mood and to quickly move on from what the other man had just seen in him. Having a small panic, that was all. It happened. Of course.]

It was a convenient alley. [He rubs his arm, stepping a little closer. Now that Brennan has mentioned how dark the alley is, it is beginning to feel a bit overwhelming. There's a prickle at the back of his neck as he thinks of looking behind him. (The eyes that shine out of the dark.)

A bit like Brennan's, actually. Even though the chimera never once moved to harm him.] A drink?

[Oh. It'd been a time since he was to be invited.] I wouldn't say no to either. Or to go someplace less like an alley.

[He looks over him. Like the others, like himself, Brennan looks much more alive. He can only assume the Coven had a hand in healing him, too. He smiles.] A friendly drink, I assume? I know, it must have been difficult not to fall for a man covered in --

[He stops abruptly, swallowing heavily after a lick to his lips. He still can't bloody say it.] Liquor. Sounds lovely right now.

[outofthebreach]

[ His lips quirk faintly at the attempt at levity, although he doesn't miss how drawing the other man's attention to his unlikely hiding place has him tensing up once more.

It's not until he stumbles over his words and goes abruptly pale once more that Brennan takes a step closer, hand falling to the small of Jaskier's back as he all but steers him out of the alley and across the street towards the nearest tavern. It looks a little aged and more than a little rundown but at the moment? It will do. ]

Liquor it is. Coming right up. And as fetching as you are, a friendly drink indeed. My Bonded's a possessive sort and I'm very much claimed. [ A flick of his left hand, the one that holds a simple gold band, should be telling enough.

If anything, he hopes the change in scenery and the rambling conversation will help ease some of the panic he's still picking up from the other man. ]

[cointosser]

[He only tenses up for the first press of his hand. Brennan has a bit of a warm aura and a friendly face, both of which are points in his favor. Jaskier is still far too tired to find every one he meets suspicious. He doesn't want to be that way. Now or ever.

It's far too depressing.

He laughs dryly. It appears to be a mistake he's been making frequently lately.] I'll take my compliment and be more than happy with it.

[Ah. How does one say that a ring's never stopped him? But he certainly respects Brennan's choice.] Did you meet them here? Your Bonded?

[outofthebreach]

No.

[ His smile's just as wry and he knows that while some wouldn't let a ring stop them, Brennan's not the sort. His honor would never let him, for one, even if he were tempted to wander. Which he isn't. Dorian is more than a handful all on his own. ]

We arrived together. We came from the same place, before here. We've known each other quite a few years now.

[cointosser]

Ah! Like my own Bonded. That's good, I think. It makes the transition much less... [He gestures in circles with his hands as he looks for the appropriate term.] Traumatic?

[For him, at least. And for Geralt. The whole, turning into magical beings thing. Or, in Geralt's case, becoming a different sort of magical being.]

We came from the same place, but it was strange. Different times. For us. Things happened to them that have yet to pass for me. I suppose the Mirror business is a bit dodgy all around.