[ intimate would be a good word for this conversation, with yennefer feeling more and more like she is in the place she's meant to be. and perhaps that has something to do with the wolf, asleep and content, at her side. maybe it has more to do with julian's comfort with her. but the longer this moment stretches and the more time she spends in it, she feels something else budding in her chest. it's not a wholly uncomfortable feeling, though she's uncertain of what it's supposed to mean.

still, something about julian - about the wind crossing their path and the rocking of the cart - makes her feel almost brave. almost confident. some part of her says this isn't like her, that she has no reason to believe this feeling, even with julian's kindness, but she decides she wants to hold on to it. if not for long, at least for now. ]

Why would that be cliché? [ her head tilts a bit with the question, her eyes back to his hands. to the tension with which he holds the leather of the reins. it's a curious thing, watching someone come to terms with a thought. a decision. but yennefer finds she can't bring herself to look away. ] You live a marvelous life, have probably traveled far and wide. The stories you must have... [ there's a kind of wistful smile to her, as she says that, before her attention is back to his face. ] Why would you chain something that wishes for freedom?

[ or, perhaps, that's not what he means at all. yennefer tries to chase down that look she sees cross his eyes, tries (a bit fruitlessly) to find answers within her to questions she doesn't even know how to ask. without her memories, without any way to understand who they are to each other or what they're supposed to mean, how would she be able to offer him anything at all? here, she is a lost girl. at the whims of julian's direction, joining him along whatever path that has been brought before them.

and she doesn't feel herself minding it. what harm could it bring, to trust him? when he looks at her like that? when they're friends? when - as he turns to look at her, when he says that his heart lies right here - on this cart, in this shade. his hands are calloused (a feeling that somehow, in some way, brings a sort of comfort) but warm where they've settled on her cheeks, and as he leans in to kiss her, yennefer - well. yennefer pauses, at first, whether from shock or uncertainty or the actual, honest fact she does not remember if she has ever been kissed before in her life. but, as soon as that first moment passes, she feels a kind of easy release of tension filter out of her. feels her eyes flutter closed, and her lips press back to his own.

julian may kiss her, but it is yennefer who kisses him back - one hand still settled on the wolf's back, while the other reaches up to hold his wrist.

he had said his heart was here, in this moment, and yennefer finds she can't quite stop the feeling that swells in her at the idea of it. that she might have his heart, that she might - if only in this moment, be important to him. that feeling is what keeps her, truly, from immediately pulling away from him. from the flush that threatens to engulf her at the idea of this. of him. of a kiss, on the back of a cart, and the press of his lips against her own.

whether it is julian who breaks the kiss, or the need for air pulling them apart, yennefer feels a kind of giddy sort of smile tugging at her mouth. her hand on his wrist keeps him from pulling away immediately afterward, and she decides she likes the feeling of it, too.

would you believe me, he had asked. ]

I think I believe you, yes. [ and to keep the smile from growing, she bites gently at her own lower lip. ]