[It is only after Jaskier is finally able to take his eyes off of her face -- and he is sure it is shifting, even when he doesn't look at it -- to see the very same white wolf that feels of himself. It is, unmistakably, his wolf. Still here, except it's fucking here and not with Geralt, where it's meant to be. Jaskier glares at it and the wolf, of course, is completely unmoved.] I should have known this was your doing.
[The wolf yawns. It knows it's totally blameless.
Jaskier dismisses it the same way it dismisses him, turning back to the sorceress (since that day, he has not enjoyed ever turning his back to her.)]
I've known you for years. [He answers simply, and it's the truth, even if there's no affection for those years and that knowing. Why wouldn't you want to? It's probably a passing fancy with you, he thinks, but he only manages to swallow it down when the wolf gives him a look that is horribly familiar, its golden eyes flashing.]
Er. Hah. That was only a jest. [Of course, when he finds Yennefer, it's her first time. Her spin around the Horizon without a memory in her head. The same as his own experience, which meant... someone must have helped her here. In Thorne. And had they abandoned her, or had Yennefer been the one to tell them to fuck off? Ooh, definitely the latter.
Jaskier looks away from her, disturbed. Not only by her shifting face -- he well understands how things can manifest without much input from their own minds -- but what it could mean that it looks like that. And yet her eyes are so blazingly fierce, the same violet he may have once been enchanted by, when he first woke up to see her. Out of his little death-nap. Before she held a knife between his legs.
Jaskier, she saved your life. The words have haunted him for years.
It is the fact that she stands here, unmistakably Yennefer, and she calls him sir that something horrible, and yet beautiful, and perhaps terrifically evil comes to Jaskier's mind.
If this is anything like his own experience, her memories will return. And oh, she will remember this. She will remember calling Jaskier sir.
Oh. Oh, and she will hate it.
She will hate him.
Gods, some things in life are so delicious, too enticing, and one must satisfy the most gluttonous instincts. The very same instinct, that all-too-hungry desire for indulgence, that had him heal her face before she had realized her magic was unfettered again. The face she made before he fell into that portal was surely an expression he would carry to his grave.
Jaskier rearranges himself in the very same way he was in Thorne, meeting the guards of the dungeons, flirting with the courtiers in the castle. He smiles at her, and as genuine as it is, it is not because he is being kind.
No. He is being outright a monster.
He hops down from his wagon with a flourish, giving her a bow as he removes his feathered hat, bringing it to his chest.]
Ah, I'm glad! Things here, you know, can happen very unexpectedly. Someone must have brought you here, did they not? Have they explained what this place is? I'll be more than happy to help you in any way I can, Yennefer, as your very long and loyal friend. And worry not that you have no recall of me; I do not, of course, take it personally. It's simply the nature of this place, that memories get tucked away for a time.
[It is an act as much as it isn't. It is genuine, even, in a way -- it is impossible, he thinks, to be a tyrant to one who cannot remember you. And with her face so... so different, he can feel almost as if it isn't Yennefer at all. Not the one he's so well acquainted with.
He sweeps his arm towards the wolf.] That wolf at your feet is mine. I was looking for you, actually, in case you might appear. How lucky he found us first. Perhaps he thought you'd be safe with me.
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[The wolf yawns. It knows it's totally blameless.
Jaskier dismisses it the same way it dismisses him, turning back to the sorceress (since that day, he has not enjoyed ever turning his back to her.)]
I've known you for years. [He answers simply, and it's the truth, even if there's no affection for those years and that knowing. Why wouldn't you want to? It's probably a passing fancy with you, he thinks, but he only manages to swallow it down when the wolf gives him a look that is horribly familiar, its golden eyes flashing.]
Er. Hah. That was only a jest. [Of course, when he finds Yennefer, it's her first time. Her spin around the Horizon without a memory in her head. The same as his own experience, which meant... someone must have helped her here. In Thorne. And had they abandoned her, or had Yennefer been the one to tell them to fuck off? Ooh, definitely the latter.
Jaskier looks away from her, disturbed. Not only by her shifting face -- he well understands how things can manifest without much input from their own minds -- but what it could mean that it looks like that. And yet her eyes are so blazingly fierce, the same violet he may have once been enchanted by, when he first woke up to see her. Out of his little death-nap. Before she held a knife between his legs.
Jaskier, she saved your life. The words have haunted him for years.
It is the fact that she stands here, unmistakably Yennefer, and she calls him sir that something horrible, and yet beautiful, and perhaps terrifically evil comes to Jaskier's mind.
If this is anything like his own experience, her memories will return. And oh, she will remember this. She will remember calling Jaskier sir.
Oh. Oh, and she will hate it.
She will hate him.
Gods, some things in life are so delicious, too enticing, and one must satisfy the most gluttonous instincts. The very same instinct, that all-too-hungry desire for indulgence, that had him heal her face before she had realized her magic was unfettered again. The face she made before he fell into that portal was surely an expression he would carry to his grave.
Jaskier rearranges himself in the very same way he was in Thorne, meeting the guards of the dungeons, flirting with the courtiers in the castle. He smiles at her, and as genuine as it is, it is not because he is being kind.
No. He is being outright a monster.
He hops down from his wagon with a flourish, giving her a bow as he removes his feathered hat, bringing it to his chest.]
Ah, I'm glad! Things here, you know, can happen very unexpectedly. Someone must have brought you here, did they not? Have they explained what this place is? I'll be more than happy to help you in any way I can, Yennefer, as your very long and loyal friend. And worry not that you have no recall of me; I do not, of course, take it personally. It's simply the nature of this place, that memories get tucked away for a time.
[It is an act as much as it isn't. It is genuine, even, in a way -- it is impossible, he thinks, to be a tyrant to one who cannot remember you. And with her face so... so different, he can feel almost as if it isn't Yennefer at all. Not the one he's so well acquainted with.
He sweeps his arm towards the wolf.] That wolf at your feet is mine. I was looking for you, actually, in case you might appear. How lucky he found us first. Perhaps he thought you'd be safe with me.