middaeg | ( CLOSED ) april catch-all

[ Yen hadn't thought about how the distance between their waking selves might correlate to a dreamscape, but she gets her answer as her sluggish form is pulled from its empty sleep into something far more treacherous. Something that she felt she might have to take responsibility for somehow. She didn't need to hear or see anything to know who this likely belonged to, swallowing down her own stubborn pride to rectify this situation as quickly as possible. Before too much transpired and too many questions were raised.

It takes her a few moments to follow the bond, too long -- too slow. She walks, her steps quick and determined. Fuck.

Faintly, she can hear Jaskier, shifting her direction to move towards him. She remains cloaked in shadows for the time being, unsure if her presence would be a welcome one or only add to the chaos. Here, but not. Watching and waiting, seeing how Jaskier and Ciri handle it -- looking for Geralt's adult form to present itself. She couldn't be there to help them every time.

At least, that's what she told herself. She'd show herself if they needed her, or she'd ensure they would all wake up without forcing anyone to join her in the carnage, not trusting herself to have the strength to focus enough to shift the dream. Not like with Jaskier. The complicated layers of emotions weren't there for them. There were certain risks attached to trying to manage this in Geralt's dreams, too much unknown and unseen to predict if it would work. Geralt's mind not quite as... pliable as Jaskier's. ]

[ The landscape flickers. There's a woman, he thinks, with fiery hair until she turns around and he realizes it's a familiar ashen blond.

Geralt stops in his tracks. He's accepted that Jaskier and Yennefer might chance upon his mind. It's happened before between them. But this is—

Jaskier calls Cirilla's name before Geralt can do so. He spins around. Fuck. (And Yennefer? He can sense the distance in their bond. If she's learned to protect herself by now, he wouldn't be surprised.)

It's funny. Compared to their other dream walks, this one is almost quiet. There's only a long empty path that stretches into the darkness, a singular star in the sky, and one lone child crying into a greying wolf. But the grief and fear that soaks the air is violently sharp. It leaves a bitter taste in his throat.

When he finally reacts, it's to lower Jaskier's hand with the dagger. He's never approached any vision of himself as a boy. He's not about to start now. He takes Ciri's arm and nudges Jaskier away. He doesn't know where the fuck they're meant to go, but staying is not an option. ] Come on. We can't be here.

[ He's trying to leave, at least—only the boy has somehow attached himself to Ciri's leg. Don't go.

His reaction is instinctive and instant, a primal need to put an end to this bullshit before it goes any further: there's a startling lack of gentleness when he grabs the child to pull him off of her. ] Stop that.

[ There's so much happening at once. Ciri starts, turning when her name is called.

Jaskier? Geralt? Their names don't have a chance to leave her mouth. Geralt crosses over lightning-fast to get between herself and Jaskier, with his uncharacteristically raised weapon.

She feels the warmth around her knee and thigh, a little body pressing close. ]

You stop that!

[ Ciri snaps, shocked and appalled by Geralt's behavior. She slaps his hand away, kneeling level with the child to take his little hands. He looks so terrified. ]

Shoving him away won't make him disappear.

[ Ciri looks into the small, scared face, gently strokes a thumb across his cheek to wipe away the tears. ]

[These nightmares have gotten far too crowded. And while once he'd been in the sort of mind where he could pull from one much more easily, between what has happened to him and the nightmares that have plagued him (and the one he pulled Yennefer into), it's almost too much.

Even seeing Geralt and Ciri here. And Ciri -- fuck, she doesn't know, does she? Did they Bond sometime? A temporary one, he's sure. It must be.

He has to focus on what Yennefer gave him last time. Otherwise, it's far too easy now for him to slip into it. He lowers his hand, the dagger disappears, fading to nothing. Knowing it's not needed in the moment.

Jaskier grabs Geralt's arm as Ciri grabs the child. He doesn't need to ask, he's sure, to know who the child is.] I think now is a pivotal moment to be kind to yourself. [His grip tightens.] Fighting it only makes it worse.

[ Her plans to remain unseen in the forest are quickly dashed as the scene before her descends into some sort of chaos. Sighing, she quietly slips out of the brush and drops the minimal shields she'd had in place minimizing the little bit of shielding she'd managed to obscure what she was putting through to the bonds. Honestly, she was a bit shocked to find her way into this, not sure how her distance on the bonds would effect being drawn into dreams.

Apparently not quite as distant as she'd thought.

Unsurprisingly, Yen finds herself siding with Geralt on this. Practicality over compassion. She keeps her tone schooled and calm, brushing off a few stray leaves that had attached themselves to her on her quick walk. Whatever strange ache she felt in the pit of her stomach for this youthful iteration of Geralt will have to wait, understanding the desire for taking a moment to care but also recognizing the brutal truth of the situation. ]

Kindness in this moment will not change his future.

[ A 'hello' might've been in order, but instead she just braces for whatever emotional backlash might come her way -- aware of the heartless edge that could be seen with her words. She wasn't here to garner favors, however. She was here to echo a voice of reason and get them the fuck out of Geralt's dreams before too much was seen. This was her taking ownership for whatever role she had in whatever had sparked Geralt's mental fortitudes to crack. ]

We shouldn't linger.

[ Ciri's voice startles him, as if he's only just remembered she's here. If it'd been anyone else, he'd have told them to fuck off. But it's Ciri. He drops his hand. Kindness. As if he wants that. He doesn't want to acknowledge the child at all. It's a part he's locked away a long time ago, the same part that once considered himself human.

He sure as hell doesn't want to do this in front of an audience.

Which suddenly includes one more. Geralt's attention snaps up towards Yennefer. He can't decide if she's a welcome presence or not. Despite the unsteady ground between them, he trusts her to be as cold as he needs her to be. This is also the last thing he wants her to witness.

He jerks out of Jaskier's grasp. Despite the boy's curly brown hair, his eyes are yellow as they are now. The wetness that spills from them grows thicker, smearing Ciri's thumb with blood where she wipes at his cheeks.

Geralt looks away. ] She's right. Leave him.

[ Yennefer's voice makes Ciri's head snap up. She herself looks younger suddenly, eyes wide and uncertain, not a physical change so much as one in demeanor, betraying her torn and confused feelings for the woman who doesn't remember raising her.

Her arms around the small echo of Geralt's unknown past tighten protectively, letting the blood stain her white sleeves. ]

What is this place? What is this... dream?

[ A dream that's not a dream. She's getting sick of these. ]

Geralt?

[ Is it the boy she's talking to, or the man? It's impossible to tell; she isn't sure. ]

[Jaskier turns with a surprised shout.] You've got to be kidding me! Of course you're here! [Nothing can leave anyone out of this bloody Bond, right? Or someone's forcing Yennefer and Geralt to get over their bullshit, which, frankly, is a bit tiring when one's on both ends of their --

Feelings.

Regardless, adding Yennefer, he feels, is not going to help.]

It's a nightmare, more like. [He looks between all of them: the child that is undeniably Geralt, and the Geralt now who looks at him with what seems like disgust. Can't even touch him, it seems. Gods know Geralt will avoid this whole bloody topic for the next ever. Yennefer, so sure of herself. And Ciri, who isn't.

Jaskier is so tired. Of nightmares. Of their ragtag group of traumas never discussing anything. And of the way Ciri looks, with open pain on her face, and they all simply pretend it isn't there.] No offense, but I'd rather get raked over coals than come to either of you for compassionate advice. [Here comes emotional backlash!] Help Ciri out of this and leave him with me. I know how to leave on my own.

[Probably. He's done it once before. And even if this isn't real, and none of it matters... it doesn't sit right with him. Treating his friend like an annoyance.]

[ Ciri's reaction to her presence is easy enough to read, Jaskier not needing much observation to pick up on his apparent disdain for her contribution to the conversation. Bristling under his skin was a place she could rest comfortably right now, not needing his validation or appreciation for brutal honesty.

But, splitting off and Jaskier staying with the boy wasn't an option. Not when she wasn't sure whatever Jaskier had planned wouldn't backfire horribly. Last thing he needed was reliving his torture again. As cold as she may seem, her intentions aren't cruel. At least not today. A fact easy to overlook given her history and her lack of openness. Something bristles beneath the surface for Yen, cracking through her carefully constructed barriers -- frustration and grief. She didn't owe her story to anyone, just as Geralt didn't owe his past self compassion as a way to soothe someone else's adult guilts or pains about moving on.

Nothing good was going to come of lingering, the other side of compassion Jaskier seems loathe to accept. Doing an act of kindness for the adult version of the man he seems so keen to overrun on this, so focused on the comfort of the child that's no longer real without truly taking a moment to think about the comfort of the man having to relive a horrific moment. Something that, if her guess was right, set off a chain of awful events to shape him into the man he would become. A memory he'd gone to great lengths to make sure they didn't see.

She gives Jaskier a look, leaving her disdain on the tip of her tongue as she turns her attention to Ciri. Her tone softens, aware of how jarring this can be as she takes a few steps towards the unsuspecting fourth for this particular mess. ]

Yes, a dream. Through the bonds -- often with no warning. And apparently with no need for proximity. It feels extremely real, though. Can be quite difficult to discern truth from figments of the mind when that mind is not yours.

[ Her attention shifts to Geralt, reading his body language, to see how hard she needs to start pushing to get the other two moving. Everything else between them can wait, now not the time to rehash old wounds when he was being forced to stare down his past. ]

[ Where Geralt has often been patient with Jaskier despite his exasperation on the surface, he finds none of it left in this moment for his friend's inability to simply leave things alone like he's asked.

He interrupts Jaskier, not even willing to entertain what bullshit he has planned about lingering with a ghost. ] Shut up.

[ It's not something he expects Jaskier to understand, nor Ciri. Only Yennefer probably really knows the depth of what he's feeling, because only Yennefer has buried who she once was. The boy is not him. It's a remnant of someone who might have gone on to flourish in another life, but didn't in this one. In this one, he died right here.

There are too many eyes on him. It's Ciri's he especially feels. She's the only reason he's restrained himself as he has and a sudden resentment rises inside him for it—because there's nothing he'd rather do than tell everyone to piss off.

In the end, he simply dislodges the boy from Ciri's grasp, ignoring his cries as he returns the child to the silver wolf waiting. Geralt accepted long ago where his path took him. Every minute they stay here is a minute closer to that unraveling. He has no desire to pick at old scars and heal them all over again. ]

What we do changes nothing. He isn't real. [ His gaze shifts to Jaskier. ] And unless this is you abandoned to the wolves, I don't give a fuck what you would rather do. I said we're leaving.

[ The... bonds? Figments of the mind. The Bonds that Geralt had told her about, that everyone keeps talking about whenever she's gone to sit in on any classes at the Coven or chatted with the natives. It just takes her a moment because she hasn't actually Bonded with any of them, but maybe it doesn't matter. They're connected by bonds of their own, after all.

In the end, the explanation does little for her understanding. But when Geralt steps forward and tries to grab the boy again, Ciri lets him; her hands fall impotently to her sides as she pushes herself up to her feet, one moment kneeling and the next upright in the way of dreams. The blood remains, staining her sleeves and gloves.

Geralt's tone makes her shoulders tense; the child's wails turn her stomach. She doesn't want to be here anymore than she's wanted in this place. ]

...I'm sorry.

[ She says finally, presumably meant for Geralt though she's not looking at anyone in particular. Ciri finds herself standing behind Yennefer suddenly, and isn't sure if she moved or if Yennefer did. It's all she can do not to reach out. ]

How do we leave?

[Yennefer's looks are so often disdainful that Jaskier gives it no notice. It's Geralt's snapping at him, immediate and without room for argument, that leaves him feeling like a child rebuked.

He says nothing in return. Abandoned to the wolves -- a part of Geralt's history he's never offered before, nor hinted at. A part he suspects would remain that way forever, were they not in this position.

It's for the best he stays silent, because for whatever reason, their reaction to this, their treatment to him, infuriates him. As if avoiding one's trauma has ever made anything better. A lesson he has sorely, sorely learned as of late. For a moment, it's more than enough for him to even forget to be soft for Ciri's sake, because gods, living with both of them being volatile fucking messes really wears on one, when he's had his own shit to deal with.]

Then fine. Leave. Find us the nearest fucking cliff so we can relive our next deaths as quickly as possible.

Must you really be so dramatic right now? [ If he doesn't want to be rebuked like a child then he shouldn't behave like one. The nearsighted goals of someone who'd only newly been introduced to the true concept of trauma should not be giving orders and she was not about to give him more of an audience for his little performance. The only kindness she's willing to offer Jaskier is to run interference for the likely bite Geralt might turn on the Bard.

And watching Ciri's reaction, the move to stand behind her and Yen's unintentional shift to block her -- to put herself between them... She didn't mean to, doesn't have any right really to act protectively towards Ciri, but there wasn't time to analyze it. Instead, she reaches behind herself, trying to catch Ciri's hand or wrist -- anything to gently guide her forward. Moving forward to catch Geralt next, taking his hand to keep him grounded. To keep this from exploding into something horrific. Before too many more words are spilled that can't be taken back. She gives Jaskier another look, but a much softer one than before. One asking for cooperation rather than another scathing remark. Choosing to put this to rest rather than remind him exactly why she'd willingly thrown herself off that cliff -- what they'd witnessed in her own nightmare. Why the stakes were so fucking high to leave before it took its chances to get worse. But she wasn't operating under a blind panic to get them out, leaving that choice to Geralt based on his own sense of urgency to leave. ]

Let's go. At least to somewhere quiet so we can discuss the best and safest way to leave.

[ There is a lot he can say. There's more he doesn't want to, and it isn't about sparing Jaskier's feelings. He doesn't really give a fuck if Jaskier understands or not. In the end, he'd rather otherwise. It isn't for him to understand. Or anyone else.

Yennefer taking his hand startles him. Their fingers curl together. She's warmer than the chilly night air suggests. He looks over at her, then Ciri just behind. Leaving the area and leaving the nightmare are two different things. Right now, he only wants to leave the area. The other they can figure out after.

Though what lies ahead is unclear. He ignores the obvious yawning path that curls into the distance, turning instead towards the trees where Yennefer came from. They bend not with the a wind, but against it. Despite the night sky, there's a round sun above them out of nowhere that casts no light. It's silent, unlike a normal forest, not even a single frog croaking.

Whether Ciri and Jaskier are willing to leave the crying child behind, he doesn't know. Some part of him wants to leave it to Yennefer to deal with the others, if they need it. His mind is clearly made up, and he's not waiting for anyone when he walks off. ]

[ Ciri looks between them each in turn, startled at Jaskier's outburst. The tension in the air is thick enough to slice through like cold butter. She swallows, fists clenching at her sides, but doesn't say anything anymore. It's not her choice. It's not her dream, she's realized. However she got here, however they all got here, it's Geralt's right to push them out. Even if her eyes do linger on the boy, and the questions burn inside her.

They all have their pasts. Geralt doesn't owe anyone this. Not even her.

Finally, with effort, Ciri turns away. ]

Come, Jaskier. Yennefer knows what she's doing. We should listen to her.

( CLOSED ) april catch-all

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