yennefer of vengerberg. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
vixening) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
abraxaslogs2021-09-12 10:52 am
vixening) wrote in abraxaslogs2021-09-12 10:52 am
[ semi-open ] my place amongst the stars.
Who: yennefer of vengerberg, various, and open.
Where: Castle Thorne, various locations therein, including the horizon.
When: post-jailbreak, month of september.
What: now that yennefer has been (rightfully) welcomed as a guest, it is about time she meets the rest of her peers within the castle.
Warnings: N/A, will add if needed
CLOSED STARTERS BELOW.
OPEN TO ALL IN CASTLE THORNE.
Where: Castle Thorne, various locations therein, including the horizon.
When: post-jailbreak, month of september.
What: now that yennefer has been (rightfully) welcomed as a guest, it is about time she meets the rest of her peers within the castle.
Warnings: N/A, will add if needed
CLOSED STARTERS BELOW.
OPEN TO ALL IN CASTLE THORNE.
[ now that yennefer has been (rightfully) welcomed as a guest, she walks the halls with a kind of up-right pride. the castle is about what she expects it to be, grand and made of stone, filled with equal amounts of intelligent folk she needs to keep track of as well as idiots with whom she doesn't give more than a passing glance. it's actually quite freeing, really, to have her magic at her fingertips once again. to feel like she doesn't need to use what she can because it could be fleeting. it gives her a confidence and an ease that, perhaps, shouldn't come so quickly to her given that she has spent most of her time down in the dungeons below, and yet it does suit her as she becomes familiar with the halls around her - searching rooms, spending time in halls, learning where the great hall is compared to the library compared to her own quarters.
as her schedule is somewhat settled, yennefer finds herself spending some time in the library amongst the other mages, her reactions towards them ranging from mentor-ly to bored to at some times even cross, depending on how much they annoy her that day. she understands that they are still learning, but it becomes increasingly obvious to her how little ambrose has anything to do with their studies. at least, not directly.
her biggest goal, now, is to feel settled in this new court. it is not her first time, doing so, and it is with that experience that she approaches her involvement in it. to find out as much as she can, to become assimilated, to avoid talking about - in any way - how her time here began in the cells below.
yennefer can be found in the library, practicing and studying the magic of this realm compared to her own. other times she can be found conversing with the native thorneans in the main halls, coming across as curious and respectful as she finds her place among the many customs and rules. other times, she could even be found wandering the gardens, just for a breath of fresh air, every now and then seeming lost in thought. if approached, she will appear friendly, especially if approached by fellow welcomed guests. it is up to the conversation itself if it stays that way. ]
{ closed to jaskier
no subject
And Geralt is so unbearably, ridiculously lucky -- perhaps even blessed by some misnamed goddess herself -- to have a friend like Jaskier, who certainly owes Geralt nothing (and Geralt, of course, owes him everything) and yet who is willing to... help his friend... with this.
This thing.
This thing that he considers wandering off into the desert and getting lost to avoid. The real desert. Right outside Cadens. Not a fake desert here. In the Horizon.]
I am far too good to him. [Jaskier remarks out loud to his apprentice, Moglad, a small moogle who is floating around his lute with a cloth thick with oil, polishing the lute's neck. Moglad knows better than to stop his work simply because Jaskier is talking to him, but the moogle's pom glows as he responds, Absolutely, Master Jaskier! W-wait, who?]
Moglad, in the end, it doesn't really matter, does it? [He heaves a sigh, climbing onto his carriage. The large tawny horses paw the ground, bright suns emblazoned on collars around their necks. The giant bird Hector gifted him rests on the roof of the wagon, its head tucked under a wing. Ah... he can't very well wake the finch.]
All right, I can finish that up. [Moglad wiggles in the air in excitement. Oh, thank you Master Jaskier! My paws were getting sore --] I need you to go look for someone.
[The moogle's head drops. Just when he thought he'd gotten out of work...
The moogle floats off, and Jaskier whips the horses into motion. Either the Horizon has closed in or it's the luck of the draw; Moglad returns having seen a woman with raven hair, which he compared rather poetically (Jaskier feels a rush of pride) to the ash left by dragon fire scorches. (Ugh. Luckily she didn't hear that.)
The wagon moves on, the laterns from its four corners swinging with the motion of its drive, until he can see her.
His chest clenches uncomfortably, as it always has every time he's had to lay his eyes on her. It has been years upon years, but he always thinks first of her expression as she ordered him to make his last wish. Something he had never quite --]
Yennefer. [The wagon slows as they run alongside her, until it makes an awkward jerk that shakes the entire wagon, waking his bird with a squawk. It's not that it is, indeed, Yennefer -- because it definitely is, of course -- that makes the wagon react so violently to his response, but that at first, her face is not what he remembers. It's... different, much different, and yet unmistakably hers.]
Now before you curse me, I'm only here to make sure you're not about to be... [He trails off, staring at her. It's shifting, her face. Her jaw. It's crooked, he realizes, alarmingly so, as if broken from a blow. But she does not seem to be in pain.] Goddess strike me down for asking, but... are you all right?
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or, perhaps it's a better description to say that the wolf finds her, because he does. appearing, first, right along the edge of the space she stands in, and then it moves closer and closer until she can't ignore him. she knows the horizon is a strange place of temporary magics, that each space can be molded to the mind and wants of the person who inhabits it. but there is something about this wolf, about this place, that makes yennefer think perhaps it is not her's. or at the very least, she did not create it, create him. the wolf comes to her and waits, patiently, for her to follow - and it is after a few moments of consideration before she finally does.
they walk for some time, though yennefer does not know how long, so much that at one point she calls out to the wolf. ] Where are you taking me? [ he does not answer, of course he does not answer, but yennefer finds herself following all the same.
it is some point later that she catches sight of a carriage. the wolf seems to notice about the same time as well, turning back to look at her as if to say yes, this is right. she's not sure why, but something about the carriage, about the four lanterns hanging off of it...it is not familiar, necessarily, but it is also not nearly as strange as some of the other things she has seen here. and as the carriage approaches, she tries to latch onto why. she searches for the answer, feeling herself nearly adrift in her own thoughts - a feeling that is visibly apparently by her appearance, a kind of shadowed shifting through what she does not see, but feels, somewhere inside. an unmooring, perhaps, but also a lack of a hold on what it is she wants to be. where she wants to be. who.
yennefer the man driving the cart says as it slows to a stop alongside her. her head tilts as she looks at him, curious, uncertain. she does not know what she feels, does not quite understand what it is that awakens in her chest. it could be something close to recognition, but she's not sure. she can't be sure of anything, she supposes, but that seems close enough. ]
You know my name. [ it is not a question, as she says it, but a statement of fact with a hint of inquisitive thinking. he must know her, then, which would make sense as to why he does not feel, or seem, nearly as strange as the others she's come across.
but then he says before you curse me and yennefer finds herself frowning, suddenly uncertain again. ] Why would I curse you? [ is cursing something she can even do? there is a feeling of something around her, has been since she'd been aware enough of herself to notice, but is that what that is? curses? she'd simply attributed it to the singularity, to the way she is supposed to be able to morph and change the world around her, in this place. but what if it's something different?
the frown seems to set off that shifting, her appearance moving and changing the more uncertain she feels. but then the wolf returns, walking around the cart and then settling at her side, and his presence does make her feel better. more centered, even if she isn't exactly sure why. however, what settles is probably far from what this man expects to see, yennefer's jaw settling more off to the side than he is used to seeing, her face looking contorted, but expression young. ]
Me? [ and yennefer blinks, again, at the question. why wouldn't she be alright? her eyes look down to the wolf, and then back to the man on the cart, giving a small smile. ] I may have no recollection of who you are, sir, or of much at all, but I can assure you I'm fine.
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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.
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there is something that passes, then, over this man’s face. a series of thoughts, a series of decisions. she’s not sure what she is supposed to make of them, but he does say i’ve known you for years, and yennefer ( perhaps despite her better judgement) brightens. he knows her, they’ve known each other for years. maybe that is exactly it - maybe the wolf led her to him, so that she would feel less lost in this uncertain place. so that perhaps she will have found the people who know her, so she will not be left on her own. the wolf had, in part, given her some reassurance - but surely this man, with his extraordinary cart and handsome features, knows her. surely this man is meant to better direct her, to better guide her, to be who she was meant to find.
he jumps down from his cart and gives her a flourished bow, and yennefer feels herself nearly laugh at the dramatics, feeling a bit at odds with the feeling. like she both isn’t meant to be the subject of such manners, but doesn’t find herself minding. something different, special, nice. ]
Ah- yes, they did tell me what this place is. I do have some understanding oof the Singularity. But sir- [ he continues talking, so yennefer pauses - lets him finish, lets the feeling of being a little less alone and a little less lost settle into her. long and loyal friend he says, and the idea of it - that she might know this man, that they’ve known each other for years. it is not a bad feeling.
and it shows - yennefer’s features do settle a bit with her polite smile, though even still, perhaps not not into the yennefer he is used to seeing. ]
May I know your name? Or- I am sure I know it, but as you said, my memories have been tucked away. But I would like to know it now, too.
[ it all feels very odd, she has to admit to herself. being told of things that she has no recollection, but that hit so true, even when she cannot remember them. he says years and that, she knows, is truth. he says safe with me and that, too, feels somehow true. but he smiles and says i was looking for you and she’s…somehow not entirely convinced.
but she is convinced enough, she finds, and his cart does look to be much more comfortable than the places she has been so far. and this wolf? this wolf she does trust, so much that it almost startles her, and if he does belong to this man - which yennefer, after glancing down to this wolf to catch his eyes, does believe - then she must be in safe hands.
safe. it produces a strange feeling in her chest. but so much of this ordeal has already been so strange, she chooses to shrug it off. ]
Thank you, for sending him. He has been my companion for my entire journey thus far.
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Jaskier rises, his fingers worrying along the brim of his hat.] Ah, my apologies. It should have been the first thing I offered. [He pauses here. He isn't sure what makes him do it. It's -- a joke. Only a joke. The idea that Yennefer should call him so intimate a name where she barely managed Jaskier at all. Plenty of "the bard" going around. He smiles at her.] Julian. And please, the sir is entirely unnecessary. [Even on his lips, it feels a bit unfamiliar. It's a rare time he ever introduces himself as such. Especially since everyone already knew on the Continent. A stage name simply spreads faster.
He places his hat back on his head.]
Of course. He... he was a fine companion for me, as well. [He swears the wolf huffs at the very idea, but it is not an untruth. Without the wolf, when he did not have his memories, he also would have been... more lost.]
Where are my manners? You must be tired from all the walking. How would you like a ride? There's plenty of room in the wagon for him as well. I can show you some of the other domains, should you be so inclined.
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Ah, just Julian, then? [ yennefer is…well, for as long as she has been traveling this strange place with the wolf, she hasn’t happened across anything that felt even close to familiar. this man, this julian - she finds that she doesn’t mind his smile, finds that she feels comfortable enough - safe (unthreatened, the word she’s looking for isn’t safe, but instead not threatened) enough. and for so long feeling untethered, feeling unmoored, it gives her a feeling of settling. like she can, perhaps, in a way, find something she can work with. a familiarity.
it’s a similar feeling that the wolf had brought her, which is partially why yennefer can’t bring it in herself to be suspicious. this makes sense, in all the ways any part of this place makes sense, so she chooses to accept it. that she does have a friend like him, even if she doesn’t quite think herself capable.
and he’s being kind. friendly. open. she wants to be here with him, for now, and the wolf - her source of protection, the one thing she has leaned back on and is confident in being able to - appears to trust him too. so when he offers the ride, when he mentions she must be tired, yennefer finds herself blinking. confused, in a way. as if she’s almost unused to the idea that someone would…think of her like that. offer that. ][ she says, looking from julian to the wolf (who seems to incline his head to the cart) and then back. her smile shows some of that genuine surprise, but perhaps a bit of something else. appreciation. excitement, even. the cart is quite an impressive thing, after all. ]
I would very much enjoy that, yes. Thank you. [ kind she tells herself. he is being kind. that is not so strange, is it?
she will wait for the wolf to jump on first, before she makes her move to climb up as well. ]
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He begins to hop back up on his wagon, which appears to lower just enough for the whole jump to be more of a flourish.] And you, my dear, are the great and powerful Yennefer of Vengerberg.
[He pats the seat beside him. Perhaps it shows in how easily the wolf climbs onto the wagon that he is more than used to it, ducking through the small doorway into the wagon to curl up on the same blanket the wolf had when it was him and the bard alone. And then Jaskier hangs off the side, offering a hand down to Yennefer to help her up, his fingers glittering with rings. What he can't afford in their reality he more than makes up for here. His fingers twitch at the sight of her smile, and the moment he realizes that, in this moment, it must be genuine.] Tell me, who brought you here? Do you recall?
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there is a small part of her that nearly does just that - sir pankratz - not because she genuinely thinks that is his title, but because she thinks he may just hate it, and she feels some interior need to tease him. just to see how he’ll react - they’ve been friends for years, after all, a little teasing would be acceptable for the relationship they very obviously have, wouldn’t it?
but before she has the chance to, he continues, and any thought yennefer has comes stuttering to a stop. the wolf jumps up into the cart, looks comfortable and familiar and trusting and like he belongs, and if she hadn’t already been convinced enough to come along, that would have done it for her. as it stands, julian calls her my dear and great and powerful and Yennefer of Vengerberg and yennefer stops in the spot she’d been standing, feels almost as if she stops breathing, entirely, as her eyes widen up at him.
could that be her? for a moment, yennefer aches with how close that description feels. how much she yearns for it to be true. how much she would do just about anything to make it that way. he calls her great and he calls her powerful and gods, she wants it so badly it hurts. it knocks the wind from her, nearly pulling her to her knees. her features shift, dramatically, back to a yennefer he probably recognizes a bit more, before the mist takes back over.
yennefer blinks, and that feeling is gone, and that need, that ache, vanishes back to the calm, the quiet, the misshapen jawline and protruding brow. julian’s hand is outstretched to her and her smile is genuine, young, uncertain but naive, in many ways. the hand outstretched to her is something she does not take for granted - and no matter the subtle, quiet voice in her that isn’t so convinced, yennefer takes the calloused palm. let’s him pull her up into the seat next to him.
she of course notices the rings, the wealth, the confidence he exudes. she has no idea how it is she came to be friends with someone so impressive, and she gives him a selfconcious smile at the question. ] Ah! Yes. He said his name was Kylo Ren. Do you know him? [ she’s unsure how much she should say, what information she should give, but something about julian and this journey through the horizon and the fact he is the first person who knows her and has for years gives her a sudden feeling that maybe it is okay to be honest. her eyes turn out and then back to julian as her voice pitches a bit low, closer to a whisper, her cheeks turning a shade of pink. ]
He is quite handsome, actually.
no subject
Is it confusion on what a Vengerberg is? Understandable. He hadn't remembered the places he'd once lived or visited, either.
He watches her, fascinated and yet still unnerved. Her face, for a single second, is Yennefer as he knows her -- the smooth, even jawline, perfect lips. Yet the eyes are the same.
And then it is a face he does not recognize as she climbs up beside him. She does not shove him over for more space, or comment on what she doesn't like about the wagon. He snaps the reins, and the horses begin to move.]
Oh, of course! Kylo, yes. We are friends as well. Actually, I wrote a song about him. Lonely Mountain King. Ahh, I bet you've heard it. [It doesn't surprise him, that Kylo stayed behind in Thorne. He had been there, on that stage. While Jaskier was busy getting the fuck out of there (with his stolen spoils.) But why leave her alone? Or had she left without him?
Jaskier glances at her and quite suddenly chokes. It's only -- oh, gods, he's never seen anything close to that expression on her face. Of course she's always looked young, ever since he met her -- and she is sure to remind him of this, while he ages -- but somehow the expression makes her appear even younger on a face he doesn't know well.
He clears his throat after coughing a few times, the wolf lifting his head to inspect him, then putting it back down again.] He -- why yes, he is, isn't he? I certainly kept my eyes on him when I was in Thorne. [That's flushing in her cheeks. It's an honest response. And him, with his expertise in love and affection of all sorts, understands it well.] It sounds as if you may also have an eye on him. He should be so lucky. Perhaps you should try your hand with him?
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( maybe, one day, she will ask julian why - why she is known as great, why she is known as powerful, why it feels good to be known as such. but that will be later. there’s no reason for it now. )
yennefer sits, comfortable and polite, in the spot julian leaves for her. she makes herself as small as she can, takes up as little room as she can - she doesn’t want to become a burden through this all, after all. and when he grins and confirms he knows kylo, yennefer smiles just a bit brighter. not for kylo, necessarily, but that other bit - a song. she had assumed, when she had felt julian’s hands, but hearing that… ]
No- well, I may have. I mean, I must have, but my memories… [ yennefer feels a little ridiculous, suddenly, her eyes glancing from julian and then the horses before them. there is even a brief second where she worries at her lower lip before taking a breath and choosing to just go for it. ] Would you… I mean, I don’t want to assume, but would you play it for me?
[ that is when he chokes, and any of that excitement, any of that building anticipation, disappears in a moment as her eyes widen. did she say something? is he alright? her hands lift as if to assist, somehow, with his choking and then she belatedly realizes she would have no idea what to do to help at all. it’s terribly embarrassing, the whole thing, and she does hope he’s okay - concern clear written there until he starts speaking again.
yennefer blinks, uncertain she hears him correctly. ] What? [ and then, when she realizes she had, immediately goes to shake her head. ] Oh, no no. No, he is much too- [ well, handsome, but that doesn’t really help her case. thoughtful, patient, willing to teach even when she had no memories or idea of why they were there. yennefer let’s put a laugh, though it is probably to cover the darker shade of red across her cheeks. ] I wouldn’t say lucky, but I’m sure there are others, you yourself have your eyes on him. I would never wish to assume- not someone like me…
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He watches her every movement not because she is beautiful, but because she is so fucking different. A very paranoid part of him almost tricks him into believing this is some new jest of hers, some ridiculous farce she's putting on to humiliate him. But one cannot fake a blush so prettily. And Jaskier is quite sure Yennefer would rather die than pretend to be demure in front of anyone.
Or self-conscious.]
Outrageous! I won't let you complete the thought. [He gives her more room to sit, noting her posture. Stiff, nearly uncomfortable. Fuck, for a minute, it isn't even Yennefer. It's other women he's heard insult themselves to flatter him. Actually. Men, too. She is women in his past, when he was young, who were unsure and shy and quiet. Those with husbands who screamed, or who died in war, or were never home. She was men who could not risk a father finding that they liked a little more cock than hen.] You shouldn't limit yourself when others are so happy to do it for you. If you want to fuck him, then you should seduce him. Honestly, how hard could it be?
[That's right. Be honestly pitiful enough and even your enemy could become your fabulous wingman.] And for your first question, of course I'll play it for you. I would love nothing else.
[Honestly, that is the truth. He is not losing the point here. Of this -- of everything. Having Yennefer, of all people, ask him for a song. That's really going to stick. When she remembers, oooh. That's really going to stick.
He tosses the reins down near their boots -- the horses have never had a problem controlling themselves, after all -- and he reaches back for his lute. The lute that is his. Solely from home. Filavandrel's lute, with all its gold filigree and warm wood. With a few notes, he tests the strings. Here, they never are anything but perfectly tuned, yet it's habit to check.]
Close your eyes. I promise, it makes it better.
[He settles back, cradling the lute, and begins to perform The Lonely Mountain King. One of his better ballads, he thinks, with imagery he's never touched before -- the mountain, the rivers of fire. A man with skin hardened to rock, with fire in his veins and a star for a heart. The wolf moves forward to sit between them, head on his paws, and the smallest twitch of his tail could be mistaken as a wag.]
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well. it feels good. nice. kind - the word comes back again, in association with him. if you want to fuck him, you should seduce him and the color of her cheeks does darken, but her smile curls up a bit, too. it's just that simple, isn't it? it certainly sounds that way, when he says it. simple enough that yennefer just nearly thinks it might be manageable. ] Have you? Seduced him. [ the question comes out suddenly, and yennefer blinks a bit after, as if she's surprised herself by how easily she asked. the surprise turns to a laugh, her hand coming to cover her mouth, but where she expects to find embarrassment or possibly shame, there is something else. something new, but not wholly. something good.
they've been friends for years. she reminds herself of that. obviously, that is what she is feeling. ] You did write a song about him. [ if her smile turns a bit conspiratorial, just for julian, well. only he will know.
but then he is saying he will play for her, that he will sing for her, and yennefer's smile turns back to something childlike. bright. she hadn't thought he would do it, for some reason, but when he says of course and reaches back for his instrument, yennefer resettles. straightens in her seat, lifts her face just a bit more, sets her hands in her lap, like she imagines the women of court would do. when he tests the strings of the lute, the music is beautiful, perfect, warm, and she chances a look back to him just in time to catch his expression when he says close your eyes. she smiles, nods once, and faces forward again - closing her eyes and letting the sway of the cart settle in her.
the song is magnificent, of course. she is not surprised by that. as soon as he begins to sing, yennefer knows that he is a great talent, widely known, respected. she feels, suddenly, a bit out of place - being friends, with someone like this. sitting on a cart in some magical land and hearing a ballad worthy of royalty. she takes a breath and lets the imagery take her away, down the path of the mountain, to the man with fire in his veins. she can see kylo, as she has met him in this very place, and the music takes her, sweeps her up and takes her away
the cart hits a divot in the road, only a slight bump, but yennefer is so lost in the music that she feels off-set. her hand reaches out, passing by the wolf and settling, instead, on julian's knee. just for a moment to right herself. ]
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And remind him even less how incongruous that song would be now, with this Yennefer beside him. How little room she allows herself to take up. Her questions that have some sense of... girlish innocence.
It is how she looks as he sings, though, that shows it would be impossible for this to be a farce. Yennefer would never allow herself to enjoy his music, whether she likes it or not (and he, of course, suspects she would enjoy it greatly if she indulged.) Like she does now. How light truly reaches her eyes, and how bright they turn.
He stiffens when her hand braces against him, the song cut short as he catches her in turn.
Oh. Oh, no. How his heart suddenly lurches in an all-too-familiar feeling. Absolutely not, you traitorous fucking thing. You know why we're doing this! Her hand in his lingers for too long. Warm and demure. So unlike the sorceress he knows, and yet there are edges, softened, that he swears he recognizes.] Not used to wagon travel, I imagine. Probably carriages only for one of your standing.
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Oh, possibly. [ though there is a look on her face like she is trying to place herself in a standing where she would not be used to wagon travel because of her standing. it feels like she's reaching, too far, for a place that isn't quite her's.
but he would know, wouldn't he? and if her hand does linger, she doesn't necessarily mean it to, and pulls her hand from his a moment later with a quiet laugh. ] I actually think I was too distracted by your song. You really do have an extraordinary voice.
[ this, above all else, will be what yennefer remembers when she wakes up. this, above all else, will haunt her. not only that she listened and enjoyed his songs, so openly and clearly, but that when she compliments him, she means it. ]
It's no wonder you are... [ are what, she wonders? it is not that she knows he is famous, not that she knows anything at all about him. all she has is his name - Julian Alfred Pankratz, that the wolf is his own, that they must know each other, and that he has been kind. kind, to her.
the wolf chooses, then, to huff something like a snort and yennefer's eyes move to him as well, her smile holding even now as her eyes move from the wolf, then back to julian. ] Well, either way. The song is incredible. I can't imagine it did not work. [ and then there is the smile again, turned up just slightly. ]
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[He can barely fathom this woman. Not only a Yennefer that almost is perplexed by the idea she could ever be successful, but one who is...
There are a lot of words he could find, and yet none come to mind. Perhaps it is easier to rest on simple. She is simple. Not her intelligence or her words -- but as if there is no hidden game to play, nor barbs to throw out, nor traps to avoid. Their conversations, brief as they are, have always been blistering.
The surprise is clear on his face.] You really mean that.
[You are, she says, and holds off, and they sit there and watch each other. Him, expecting still some word that will directly attack his ego. It's always meant to, of course. But she trails off, and looks indecisive about her next words.
The wolf breaks the spell. He looks back at him; actually, he glares a bit. It is just like him to interrupt.]
Thank you. [The words, this time, are genuine.] Hm. It's no big loss, really. It's a bit less fun if it's so easy with some things, isn't it?
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it is because she is studying him so closely that she gets the full effect of his surprise. it twists something in her chest - what is he surprised about? her, meaning what she said? her face breaks into some surprise, herself, then. ]
Yes, I do. Should I not?
[ but the wolf inserts himself, and yennefer feels herself relax, reaching out to run her hand down his coat, his white fur. his thank you leaves her warm, feeling good at the response. he is that good, after all. he should be complimented as such. it’s only when julian answers again that yenenfer’s eyes turn back to him, eyes a bit wide. ]
You mean who haven’t? [ her wide eyes give way to a small smile. like she can’t quite believe it. an while she knows this is all a bit immature, to be talking about someone who had been nice enough to her to bring her into this horizon, but she can’t hide the playful way her eyes almost sparkle. ] But you’re… [ the list of descriptors she could include here goes on so long she feels a bit overwhelmed by the choices. ] You.
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[And it's almost too much of it. From Yennefer's face -- not as he knows it, but still, it is so very her -- and her voice. It's almost unnerving, in a way. This is turning on him so quickly in a way he had not anticipated.
Perhaps it is quite evil to have fun at the expense of another, when they are only another plaything of the Singularity.
He lets out a laugh through his nose; breathy, almost disbelieving. One of those horses wickers, snorting.] I am me. But nobody is perfect. [He smiles at her.] Perhaps you'll do a better job of seduction than I.
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As long as you know it to be true. [ said matter of fact-ly, her fingers still curled in the wolf's coat. it's an interesting feeling, feeling both the fluttering of something in her chest, but to find it gentle. nice. she likes this feeling, likes being around julian like this. perhaps this is why they are friends, which she can see. which she feels good, knowing.
at the smile, the suggestion that she may do a better job, yennefer snorts something of a laugh in return and shakes her head. ] Perhaps neither of us will know. I am unsure if I'll be more successful in anything of those matters if you were not. [ there's a bit of that confidence, somehow, slipping into the tone. that she can joke with him, like this. that she can say these things and make these comments. even if there is a small smattering of red across her cheeks. ] But I am flattered you would think as much.
[ the wolf makes another huff of a breath, turning to push his head against yennefer's arm. it makes her laugh a little, feeling buoyant, almost young, as she pushes back, scratching the wolf under his chin. ]
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As if he were a young boy all over again. His first wagon ride with a daring, darting creature. (Isn't that how she is now? Younger? Or is that only what he imagines? Is this Yennefer that he meets now at all any sort of truth? Was this truly the woman she once was?)
They have all changed over time. In small ways, minute ways. It's the way of the world, of life and age and time. Even those who don't age. But he cannot imagine how these two women coincide. (Even if, he thinks, there are small movements, of the way she holds her head, that he recognizes.)]
Oh, please. Yennefer, you are a prize as much as I. [And those words slip off too easily. To be fair, Jaskier isn't fucking blind. Yennefer, of course, is beautiful. And powerful. Dangerous. They are all things men have wanted to fuck for millennia. And despite whatever his personal opinions are, it is clear that Geralt... sees something in her.] Our talents are not the same, but you are no less for having them.
[He swallows.] There will be a day songs are written of you, too.
[Or they already have been. Moving on. The wagon hits a bump and shifts slightly, their bodies pressing closer together, with only the wolf between. Jaskier glances at them, and his voice goes soft.] He loves you, you know.
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the cart continues to move, taking them across this strange land, this strange place, but yennefer finds that she's quite alright with the events of this. where she is, now, comes with it a feeling of comfort. like she has been here before, or if not here, than with julian. possibly even this wolf. her inability to access her memories had been a troubling concept she'd wrestled with, upon her first arrival, but the wolf, julian, they are all stops on her path that she is grateful to find.
( to mirror the feeling, yennefer's features do settled - on her crooked jaw, her misshapen brow. she knows nothing else, of course. this is who she is, who she feels to be. )
it is that yennefer that, at julian's compliment, lets out something of a rough, unladylike snort. sharp, harsh, and fully disbelieving. you are a prize as much as i he says, and yennefer glances across the wolf towards him with an incredulous look, shaking her head. ] You're kind, Julian. Too kind. I feel as though that kindness may bring you strife, one day.
[ it is that next comment he makes that sobers her, any of that self-deprecating curl of her lips gone in a single moment. the feeling of it catches her off-guard, and suddenly the off-balance nature of her has nothing to do with the cart. with the rocky road. songs...of her? it feels a bit too impossible to be real, but gods. gods, she wants it.
yennefer is quiet for a few moments longer, staring off onto the road before them, one hand still on the wolf's shoulders, curling fingertips into the fur. it is why, even as julia's voice grows soft, that yennefer catches the full weight of the words. her eyes go back to his, meeting them over the back of the wolf between them, before her attention shifts downward. to the sleeping wolf, the large white body that makes her feel so centered. that makes her feel like her, even when she's not sure what shape that is supposed to be.
her expression is thoughtful, soft but not necessarily as young as she'd been moments before. ]
I believe I do.
[ know, she means. she lifts her hand and runs it along the fur of his back, twists a bit of the white hair between her fingertips. he loves you julian says, and with yennefer's eyes on the wolf between them, she feels like she might understand. maybe. her gut tells her not to argue, that she knows this, despite the discomfort that swirls alongside it. ]
Though I'm not entirely sure why.
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[Strife comes in many forms. It comes in banquets that run red with blood, or his throat that spills it. In the treachery of mountain paths and the feeling of being left behind. Of sorceresses who nearly kill the lot of them by bringing a house down on their heads.
Or in wolves who fall for exactly the wrong women. (A small voice in him says, what if it isn't wrong? Not entirely?)]
Neither does he. [His thumbs rub deeply into the reins he holds. It's clear he doesn't mean the wolf, but he -- he sort of does. Now that he knows who it so obviously represents. And that Yennefer has taken such a warmth to it... clearly, the wolf is the same to both of them.
He's not blind. Not as a man, and certainly not as a poet. The way Geralt looks at her is raw. When she came into that tavern, even with a mouthful of Est Est in his mouth and swirling in his head, he could see it.]
Sometimes love is unknowable. But its unknowing does not lessen its strength.
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there is a part of her that starts to worry - only fractionally, about this strife he seems to find himself in. the fact he is not worried for himself, in that strife. but even as she would like to spend the time worrying about him, the conversation shifts, evolving back towards her, towards this love. it’s a strange thing, a concept that is meant to be so beautiful, conjuring something not necessarily unwanted, but unsure, complex, in her gut. unsure. that uncertainty flitters across her face for just a few moment before. she turns to him, though she’s not entirely sure why, catching the way his hands tighten around the reins. the thoughtful almost tension in his eyes.
but its unknowing does not lessen its strength.
could that be applicable here, too? how yennefer is shifting through all of these moments, this strange place, without knowing who she is or what brought her here? does her unknowing not lessen this moment, on this cart? she is quiet for a moment, considering this, before she speaks again. ]
And what if you, Julian? [ if he looks to her, the smile will be soft, small, gentle. some of that earlier concern for him filters through, too. she shifts just a bit closer, as if the words they share are secrets for only the two of them. it is this close, though, that she notices him. the shape of his jaw, the length of his nose. his eyes, too, bright and knowing, stunning, where they sit under the fringe of his hair. ] You speak of unknowable love, but that it’s only sometimes. You have have a love of which you know- where does your heart lie?
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Even the way she says his name -- though he's never really kept it so secret -- it feels intimate, knowing she's never called him it before.
He does look, because her eyes are on him and he can feel the weight of them. And though he has never said it, he does find them beautiful. A violet that would make even the petals of heliotrope pale in comparison. Which is funny, considering he has often thought of her as that flower. Beautiful. Poisonous. Causing gastric distress to those around her.
He is certainly beginning to feel some sort of distress.]
I believe it's a bit of a cliché, my answer, but my heart has never been chained to one place. [He looks away, to his fingers, where he has already worried an indentation into the reins. Physical evidence of what this conversation has done to him. (And it's been so easy, once he allowed it, and it does feel like what he's lied to her about. That they are friends. That words between them are private, but easy, and comforting. Comfortable. And it's that comfort he finds disturbing.
Because a truth has struck him with the inevitability of Destiny herself. Yennefer will recover her memories, the next time she is here. And this woman here, now... she'll be gone, won't she? It will be her second death -- the death after who Yennefer is now took over.
It feels it must be that way to him, because they are so unalike that he almost convinced himself she was a different person. Despite the years he has been aware of her, she is as much a mystery as she was when they met. Unintentionally.]
Would you believe me if I said, in this moment, it lies right here?
[In the quiet of this ride, of horse hooves stomping along a path, with willow branches arching over them and shading them from the sun. Hiding the rising monolith of the Singularity from view. And there is the wolf and the weight of him, the hot heaving breath when he sighs. The Path and Company. It's all he's needed for a long time.
Ah, Jaskier remains selfish as ever. He wants to steal something from this. For himself. For once, it is not about her -- about bothering her, or annoying her, or insulting her. He would steal something before this fantasy vanishes.
So he lets go of the reins (the horses have never needed the direction) and cups her cheek. The shape is unfamiliar, but his hand finds where to hold it gently anyway. Then he leans in and kisses her.
An impulse. That's all it is.]
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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. ]
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