middaeg | ( CLOSED ) april catch-all

[ Geralt ignores Jaskier's prodding at his sense of humor (he has one, thank you; it's merely underappreciated), instead sitting back on his hands. The sun is warmer than he'd like, but not so warm that the weather has grown uncomfortable.

He snorts. Ah. So that's what happened. ]

All children fly the nest.

[ Even a kitten in a basket. Or a girl turned woman he's never met. Yeah. He knows why Jaskier is here. Yen isn't the only person he's never spoken to about his Child Surprise. He's avoided it with Jaskier, too, beyond what the bard had actually been there to witness. Though so far, only Jaskier knows he'd returned to find her that night. ]

[Jaskier stretches out his legs, leaning back on his hands. The sun filters through the tree leaves. The one thing he's always understood about Geralt was what he can find out here, alone. It's not Jaskier's thing, but it is a sort of serenity that can be respected.

He understands it more now. When people can be too much. And it feels awful to think that about himself, when he's moved so easily around... fuck, everyone.

At least some people still leave him feeling warm. Safe.]

Hah. Spoken like a real father. [He nudges Geralt with an elbow, a teasing smile playing on his lips. He doesn't mean anything by it. It's only... he's seen some things, as he's spent the days watching the woman Cirilla has become. Not that he met her when she was younger to base it off of, but he can... he sees small bits of his friend in her. Even beyond what he saw in the dream.] How are you? I know I'm absolutely thrilling company, but I know not having Yennefer around is... [He pauses.] It feels strange.

[ Geralt gives Jaskier a look. Then he sighs. He knows he needs to talk to Yennefer. He just doesn't know what the fuck to say. He hardly knows what to say to Cirilla, though at least she's easily cheered by a new dessert or being taken on a hunt. ]

I'll talk to her. [ Eventually. At some point. He feels it, too, her missing presence. (He doesn't need the bond to feel it, but it sure as hell amplifies it.)

He hesitates. It's not something he usually asks, but the question leaves his mouth before he can bite it back. ]

Has Ciri said anything to you?

Ohhh, I don't know if that's the best idea. I know what you conceive as a good way to talk to women. I'll make sure to be nowhere nearby.

[Lest he get blamed for a whole new lifetime of ill luck. Not that anyone is bringing it up anymore. Ancient history. Jaskier gives him a gentle pat on the shoulder. He knows speaking is not Geralt's forte, but he believes... well, whatever this is, it'll come to pass.

Jaskier lifts a brow.]

Anything? Yes, my dear, we do talk. And we have loads of fun doing it. [He knows that isn't what Geralt meant, but it's his nature to try to make the air lighter.] You'll have to be specific. She's spoken about you, if that's what you mean. [He looks out to the brook, the tips of his boots shifting in the air to the rhythm of the water.] It's quite clear she's completely enamored with you.

No good bushes to hide in?

[ He gives Jaskier a pointed look, his jab clearly to avoid the topic of his ability to speak to Yennefer and succeed. Though the bard's not wrong. It's entirely possible, and even probable, that their reconciliation will involve very little talking at all.

Or it'll just end with him being ejected into a lake.

Enamoured. He grunts. He's fond of the princess who isn't a princess already—impossible not to be—but that doesn't mean he knows what to think. Or believe. Or do. ]

Right now, she remembers me as something I'm not. I doubt that can hold for long.

[Jaskier shot him a glare.] Oh, shut it!

[He would not forgive nor forget the indignity of being lifted out of that bush like he was a misbehaving cat -- all while holding a misbehaving cat. (All right, in Burza's defense, she was rather well-behaved.)

He knows exactly what Geralt's doing, but Jaskier is allowing it. He's missing a primary piece of whatever is between him and Yennefer, and it's up to his friend to finally do something about it instead of pretending it wasn't happening.]

And what could that be, I wonder? To me, it sounds like she believes you're a good man. Which you undeniably are -- oh, don't bother grumbling about it. Can you really believe I came all the way out here to butter you up? [Not a chance on his life.] Geralt, I don't think you're going to prove her wrong. Perhaps you're not the same, but I see plenty of you in her. It's not such a bad thing.

[ Jaskier's answer is predictable. It's one of those things: when he asks because he simply needs to hear it, whether he can bring himself to believe that words or not. ]

When I first arrived, I met a man. He said he knew me. I'd been a Witch here. And I spoke of Cirilla as my daughter.

[ He's never admitted this to anyone before. He'd tried, as much as he could, to separate himself from the Geralt that supposedly claimed Ciri as his own and helped save Dorchacht.

Now he doesn't know what it all really means. Destiny. He wonders if the curves of his path have truly been laid out so carefully. ]

[Jaskier claps him on the back. He can see the words have sunk in, at least a little, and he's... he's glad to be here, to be honest, to give Geralt what he's been offering Jaskier for weeks.

An opportunity. An opportunity for help. To give it. Receive it.

Gods. He sounds mental in his own head. He brushes hair out of his eyes and looks out to the creek, considering dipping his hand in. The shock of the cold would be a nice change to the temperature out here.

Except Geralt's admission is enough to startle him.]

You what? Geralt, why did you never tell me about this? [Oh, he can imagine a hundred reasons why, in fact, but that was -- that was rather startling fucking information. A Witch? Not that Jaskier's the sort to believe any hogwash people spout, but that... sort of fell in line with all the strangeness Aefenglom had offered them since arrival.

He picks at his cuticle, an idle tick. Another Geralt. From... from the future, apparently. Who had accepted the princess as his own.

Finally. After all these fucking years.]

And? Does knowing that change anything now?

[ Geralt doesn't answer. Jaskier knows exactly why he didn't say anything. For a moment, he sits in silence. Admitting it doesn't settle that much in his mind. ]

I don't know.

[ He looks over at Jaskier. His own problems aren't the only thing that's been on his mind. As much as Jaskier has healed, he can't forget what happened. Especially not when some of those men are still out there. He knows better than to chase after some nebulous idea of revenge. It doesn't mean it sits well with him, that they haven't all been taken care of. ]

And you?

[Of course he didn't.

It was nothing against Geralt, but it felt as if he only needed to say these words, whether he figured out anything from them or not. Jaskier shrugs, too, because... fuck, this is far beyond him, isn't it?

Not that he's been helpful for much lately.

He matches Geralt's gaze, but only for a moment before his eyes dart away. He feels the question coming before it does.] Gods, Geralt, you'll give me whiplash. Only you could bring that up and simply... move on.

[But it was how things worked between them, more often than not. And that was a long time ago for Geralt, to have learned that.]

Fuck. Over a year, you know? [The thought hits him. He leans back on his hands.] I'm all right. I know, I know, it's the answer you expect to hear. But it's true.

[He hesitates. It's not often he ever really does, but about this, in particular, he's feeling very awkwardly fragile.] There was a woman in there, when -- [He swallows.] The night you saved me. Earlier, she stopped and gave me something to eat. I found her again, a few weeks ago. We... she's very special. [He plucks a ring off, spinning it between his fingers, his ticks leaving him unable to keep still.] She's offered to help with, ah, everything. It's helped, having someone who understands.

[ He huffs a little. Perhaps. There just isn't much to say. No easy answers. But it is something he wants Jaskier to know, one of those small piece of himself that he offers every now and again. Over the years, he knows Jaskier has put them together into a picture of his...friend. And it isn't accurate, not wholly—there's much he has never told Jaskier and likely never will—but it's more so than most others get.

He listens to Jaskier instead. A woman. The fact that he thinks, that's new, only reminds Geralt of how different it's been lately. Normally, Jaskier finding a woman would be just another Thursday evening.

It's good. It is. As significant as the bond between the three of them has grown, Geralt is all too aware that neither he nor Yennefer can give Jaskier what he needs. Too much shit of their own between them.

He doesn't ask if Jaskier has fallen in love with this woman. He already knows Jaskier has. That's simply how the bard is. ]

Composing her a song soon, then?

[He huffs a laugh. He knows his reputation, and he knows Geralt is thinking, ah, another one. But this is different too, in the way all of his lovers have been different, but he's never --

He's never walked through trauma with another. Not like this. Not besides Geralt, really, and though he loves Geralt, too, they were not meant to be lovers. (Not that he would ever say no to another fun night.) And Geralt can't say much when he's a bigger fucking idiot in love with Yennefer than Jaskier ever has been.]

Maybe.

[It doesn't feel like there's much point in insisting that she's different.] Speaking of women, have you spoken to your own yet? [He casts Geralt a sly glance. In the middle of the woods, far out of earshot, is the only place Jaskier would dare to refer to Yennefer as such.] You can't just keep running away from each other every time you have a disagreement.

[ The answer is subdued compared to Jaskier's usual. He's used to the bard waxing poetic about his new affections. Lightning, for example.

Perhaps very special doesn't quite sum it up, what the woman means.

Geralt grunts in reply. ] I'd not risk your balls claiming her as mine.

[ They'll talk eventually. Geralt hates that the bed is empty every time he's there at night, the bond feels thin and rough, and fuck, he knows it's partly his fault. It's just—

It's complicated. A mixture of stubbornness and knotted emotions.

He sits forward, watching the water. ] Enjoy your entanglements, Jaskier. Don't fret over mine.

[Jaskier chokes on a cough.] And you bloody never fucking tell her I said it!

[He needs no reminder Yennefer's already threatened his balls multiple times, and one time with a very real knife between his legs. But they're great friends now! There's no way she'd do it again. Even with a bit of jesting on his end.

He clears his throat.] Running away from my question too, are you? [Jaskier leans in against him, shoving him with a shoulder.] I fret over every one of yours, as you fret over mine. And I do adore you for it, bless your foolish white head.

[He pauses, letting the light-hearted lines lay for a moment. When he turns back to his friend, he's serious, and quiet.] You know I'll help you. No matter what your entanglements be.

[ His tail smacks Jaskier's side. He's not running away. There are just some questions wherein an answer isn't needed at the moment.

Times like these, he misses the path. He's always going somewhere. It's easier to leave things behind when there's nothing keeping him in one place.

He wonders if Jaskier misses it, too. Traveling bard and all. This is the longest they've actually spent together without parting ways for the winter or because Jaskier decided to stay behind to woo some courtier or another before catching up with Geralt months later when it falls apart. ]

Mm. [ Yeah. He knows. He shifts, their shoulders brushing. ] A drink is always a help.

[ Come with me. It's been awhile since they've gone out for a drink, anyway. ]

[Jaskier hums something close to a laugh. Geralt may deny it all he wants, but that's the only was Jaskier sees it.

They're quiet, together this time. Still. Neither of them have ever been so still, at least as long as Jaskier's known his friend. Tehy are always on the move, between jobs. Hunting or performances. It's not as if he feels trapped in Aefenglom -- honestly, he quite enjoys it here -- but he knows, through the Bond, that some part of Geralt does.

The Path, as he called. Once Jaskier had learned about it, he realized he, too, had a Path.

Jaskier looks over, a smile there. For some reason, he feels a bit lighter, having told him of Alice. That Geralt understands he needed... something more, from someone else, and he's finally found it.] Well, lucky for you you have such rich friends. I could go for a drink.

[He pats Geralt's shoulder.] Let's go, my friend.

( CLOSED ) april catch-all

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