abraxaslogs | [ CLOSED ] though my feet my rest

[ A year or two ago, he might not have said it out loud. Not so starkly. He won't admit it, but he's aware he's different. That his time with Ciri has changed him for what Jaskier would say is the better.

He wouldn't disagree.

He folds Julie into his arms. Her heart thunders in his ears. He's allowed in so many since he arrived in this world. Friends, family. He's afraid of losing each of them, and yet a part of him knows the inevitability that awaits. That no matter how he struggles, how tightly he clutches, they will be taken from him as the others have.

But he refuses to simply let it happen. For as long as he can protect them, he will.

He says nothing further, just holds her. Only when she stirs does he release her a little. His fingers rest gently in her hair. ]

[ Minutes pass and she stays tucked against him, letting him envelope her. His warmth, his smell, the solidness of his frame. She has always found his presence comforting -- since basically their first meeting, he has radiated a sense of calm that keeps her grounded. It's not related to their actual relationship, though that has magnified the effect; he is just, as she has told him multiple times, very even-keeled. She finds that soothing, given her own much more erratic temperament. Right now, she sinks into that.

When she does finally lift her head, she remains just as close, barely a few inches from his face. Her face is still flushed pink from crying (as well as embarrassment from doing so). She puts one hand to his face. Her voice is almost a whisper. ]

I love you. [ It's something she has no difficulty saying to other people on a frequent basis. But this love makes her feel exposed in ways she never has before, and so she has mostly held it back. A defense mechanism that takes a toll. ] You make me better.

[ As much as he hadn't wanted to provoke any shitty memories, he's glad they spoke. Mostly, he wants to make sure Julie is okay. All of this, it feels as if it falls on his shoulders. Not even in the sense that he holds any particular blame for what happened—he knows it isn't as simple as that—but because this is his family.

For a few moments, he watches her. Like him, he thinks she's changed, as well. Maybe in ways neither of them is fully conscious of. More and more, he feels solid where he stands. The people he left behind no longer weigh as much on his mind.

They'll be fine without him. The ones who need him most, they're here now. And he would be lying if he said he didn't need them in turn.

He doesn't answer in words. Instead, he closes the distance between them, lips brushing hers. Their foreheads touch, and he lets his fingers curl around her wrist. She smells faintly sweet as always. The wine sits forgotten. ]

Edited 2023-08-13 18:10 (UTC)

[ It's a sword that cuts both ways. Geralt feels responsible for his family, but Julie feels responsible for hers, and that includes both him and Ciri. It all still feels like her fault -- if she had just been able to stop herself, if she had told Geralt immediately instead of getting twisted up in the shame and confusion, then maybe things would have gone differently. One less pawn for the demon, and possibly less incentive for it to snatch Ciri.

Geralt doesn't blame her. He doesn't want to be rid of her. That's all she can want from the situation. But she still wishes she could have done everything differently.

She kisses him softly, her thumb running over his cheek, then peeks up at him from under low lids. Her free hand is placed flat against his chest, over his heart. ]

[ Everyone, he thinks, wishes they'd done things differently in the events that led up to the confrontation. He knows Sam feels responsible for Ciri going missing under his nose. Castiel believes he should've seen the signs sooner.

Hindsight is hindsight. In the end, it's over. They aren't unscathed, but they are alive. That's enough.

His heart beats the same slow, steady pace it often does. He's a touch bronzed from all that time under the desert sun, and being home in the city means he's a bit more put-together than he is when travelling. His hair was brushed, at least, sometime within the past 24 hours.

When he draws back, his fingers linger around her wrist. ]

[ She doesn't take her arm from his grasp. Instead, she shifts until she curls up next to him, her head resting on his shoulder. Is there more of a conversation to be had? Maybe. But she is at about her limit for vulnerability for at least the next six months.

Twisting her wrist, she laces her fingers through his, squeezing his hand. Missing someone, actually missing them, is a fairly new development for her. Sure, she misses her parents, her friends and family, Lloyd. But their absence doesn't feel as heavy as Geralt's does, when he's gone for weeks. And so much heavier now, after the year they've had so far. ]

I missed you. [ She's already said it since he returned, but it still stands true. ] I'm glad you're back.

[ He leans back on the couch, content to sit with her. Afterwards, probably, he will spend the night with her. No one's expecting him to be anywhere, and Geralt hasn't any trouble making himself at home in the space of others once they've invited him. Maybe it comes with never having a home of his own outside of the winter months. ]

So did I. [ He looks forward to seeing her again. It's good to have people who bring him back. Deep down, he needs that. Even before, he'd had his brothers. They aren't here now, but he's got a differrent family to return to. ]

You could come with me someday. [ He's only teasing. He knows she isn't interested in toiling under the scorching sun for weeks while monsters lurk in every corner. ] I roast a fine lizard.

[ Both wineglasses ghost through the air, first his and then hers, carried in her phantom hand. Leaning into his side, she takes a drink and sighs. She still feels a bit raw, which is perhaps to be expected when discussing one's deepest fears, but she thinks she'll be fine. ]

Maybe somethin' short. A few days. [ Julie is actually not a stranger to camping -- where she's from, there's not a ton of other options for getting away. She can't say it's ever been her favorite activity, and she's never really done it in the desert, but a weekend? Why not. At the very least, she knows she can conjure enough for it to not be a miserable time. ] You'll really hafta tempt me on lizard, though.

[ She will bring sausages. ]

[ He hums, considering. The Badlands is no place to camp, but the hills to the east are prettier, more vibrant, and far less treacherous while still a good distance from the city. She'd like it, he thinks. Travelling has been ingrained in him from a young age. He's come to enjoy it. He can admit easier these days that sometimes, it's an experience he wants to share.

His arm slips around her shoulder. ]

I've won you over before. [ There's a faint tilt to his lips. He takes the wine. Sausages will be appreciated. He won't turn down any upgrades to the food.

When it's later, he brings both her and the wine to the bedroom; in the morning, he helps her put a few belongings onto the new shelf. He is thinking about another trip with her—Aquila was pleasant, a memory he reflects on fondly—and he means to do it soon. In autumn, perhaps, when it isn't so fucking hot, and while things remain quiet. ]

You might win me over on most things, but I didn't eat lizards in the apocalypse, so I don't plan to start now.

[ She beams into his shoulder. Honestly, if there was anyone she would taste a lizard for, it would be him. But it would be the world's tiniest taste.

Sausages and roasted marshmallows it is. ]

[ CLOSED ] though my feet my rest

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject