[In a belated sort of where, where time goes horribly slow and Jaskier does wrench out a painful scream of Geralt's name, right when Castiel hits him like he may break Geralt's bones with a touch -- he realizes that Castiel is, apparently, not human.
It is a wonder Sam is there. Because Jaskier could easily die here; it is not an idle thought he has that he must be the most vulnerable of all the people here. He is not a hunter, or a soldier, or a healer, or a Witcher. He's jsut a fucking tired, aching, angry man.
As Sam protects the two of them, so does Jaskier move in front of Geralt, a hand on his chest before he can stride any closer. He doesn't know the full picture of what the fuck is happening here -- he came only knowing Ciri and Geralt were, once again, in deep shite -- but he knows that Geralt and Castiel clashing (even if Castiel is a stupid piece of shite at the moment, in Jaskier's eyes) isn't getting anything but Geralt bloodied. He isn't a monster to be put down. It's no longer fucking simple, if his people can stand up after their heads have been turned to pulp.]
Geralt, stop! [He glances at Sam, then Ciri; she's safe, for the moment, and he will go to her, but first, he has to stop Geralt from getting his head ripped off by an unrighteous fool. Back to Geralt's face. To him, there's nothing surprising about the black veins or the ceaseless void that his eyes become. But this fight Geralt is in is not a hunt. Not for Castiel.] Isn't this exactly what demons want? Pain? I know you're afraid for Ciri, but you're helping it happen all over again.
[Or maybe that was only the one. He doesn't know. And he could choke out every person here for leaving him so in the dark, but that's for another time -- Jaskier's hand moves to Geralt's arm, holding his weapon down.] Stop. Please. You are not dying here, for him. For them. We'll subdue him, then take Ciri and go. [Jaskier turns back to them -- a bunch of strangers, at this point, who have come for his people. He suspects they feel the same. Castiel might have planned on breaking him a moment before, but Jaskier still meets his eyes as he crosses the no man's land growing between them.
He takes a deep breath, wishing he was anywhere but here.] I don't care what the fuck you do with him after this, but let me help. [As long as he's gone. Away from Ciri.] I won't hurt him, but I can -- I can sedate him. I can try. I'm sure it will work. You can trust me. I haven't killed a man in my life.
[Which sounds like a comedic plea, but it's entirely true. And maybe that bears remarking upon among all these... ah. Hunters.
As long as they are gone from here, away from this demon. As soon as possible. As soon as they can make sure Ciri is all right.]
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It is a wonder Sam is there. Because Jaskier could easily die here; it is not an idle thought he has that he must be the most vulnerable of all the people here. He is not a hunter, or a soldier, or a healer, or a Witcher. He's jsut a fucking tired, aching, angry man.
As Sam protects the two of them, so does Jaskier move in front of Geralt, a hand on his chest before he can stride any closer. He doesn't know the full picture of what the fuck is happening here -- he came only knowing Ciri and Geralt were, once again, in deep shite -- but he knows that Geralt and Castiel clashing (even if Castiel is a stupid piece of shite at the moment, in Jaskier's eyes) isn't getting anything but Geralt bloodied. He isn't a monster to be put down. It's no longer fucking simple, if his people can stand up after their heads have been turned to pulp.]
Geralt, stop! [He glances at Sam, then Ciri; she's safe, for the moment, and he will go to her, but first, he has to stop Geralt from getting his head ripped off by an unrighteous fool. Back to Geralt's face. To him, there's nothing surprising about the black veins or the ceaseless void that his eyes become. But this fight Geralt is in is not a hunt. Not for Castiel.] Isn't this exactly what demons want? Pain? I know you're afraid for Ciri, but you're helping it happen all over again.
[Or maybe that was only the one. He doesn't know. And he could choke out every person here for leaving him so in the dark, but that's for another time -- Jaskier's hand moves to Geralt's arm, holding his weapon down.] Stop. Please. You are not dying here, for him. For them. We'll subdue him, then take Ciri and go. [Jaskier turns back to them -- a bunch of strangers, at this point, who have come for his people. He suspects they feel the same. Castiel might have planned on breaking him a moment before, but Jaskier still meets his eyes as he crosses the no man's land growing between them.
He takes a deep breath, wishing he was anywhere but here.] I don't care what the fuck you do with him after this, but let me help. [As long as he's gone. Away from Ciri.] I won't hurt him, but I can -- I can sedate him. I can try. I'm sure it will work. You can trust me. I haven't killed a man in my life.
[Which sounds like a comedic plea, but it's entirely true. And maybe that bears remarking upon among all these... ah. Hunters.
As long as they are gone from here, away from this demon. As soon as possible. As soon as they can make sure Ciri is all right.]