[Jaskier has spent so much time between them, traveling, sending messages, and draining a draught to sleep, there has been more blur between his waking life and the Horizon more than ever before. The only inconstant is Moglad, who stays closer to Jaskier than he ever really has before, following him quietly as he moves from room to room, gathering what he knows to paint the swathes of information across an empty bedroom lit with jewelwisps and their gently fluttering wings.
They're getting closer. He knows that. He feels it. He --
Has to believe it.
Somehow, Moglad and him feel it at the same time. Jaskier doesn't even give the moogle a glance before he is heading towards the spiral staircase. Moglad flutters nearby, shouting Hang on, kupo! as Jaskier grabs hold of his belt. Moglad flies them down to the tree's roots, and out they burst just in time to see --
Jaskier grabs him, reaching, gripping, to see if he's real. His voice breaks.] Geralt. Geralt, where are you?
[Somewhere he's had no time to heal. And worse. So much worse, as he takes him in. Like a walking corpse, with gaping wounds, and bruises, caked in shit, and high on his potions.] Tell me. Anything you can tell me.
no subject
They're getting closer. He knows that. He feels it. He --
Has to believe it.
Somehow, Moglad and him feel it at the same time. Jaskier doesn't even give the moogle a glance before he is heading towards the spiral staircase. Moglad flutters nearby, shouting Hang on, kupo! as Jaskier grabs hold of his belt. Moglad flies them down to the tree's roots, and out they burst just in time to see --
Jaskier grabs him, reaching, gripping, to see if he's real. His voice breaks.] Geralt. Geralt, where are you?
[Somewhere he's had no time to heal. And worse. So much worse, as he takes him in. Like a walking corpse, with gaping wounds, and bruises, caked in shit, and high on his potions.] Tell me. Anything you can tell me.