[ semi-open ] my place amongst the stars.

[vixening]

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.

[ 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. ]

Comments

[cointosser]

Julian Alfred Pankratz, in fact. [He corrects immediately, though he knows if she decides to call him something like "Sir Pankratz," he may expire on the spot, even in the Horizon. In that case, one can only hope that means he dies in his own real world simultaneously.

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?

[vixening]

[ she very nearly repeats the name back to him - julian alfred pankratz, a strong, impressive name, she thinks. it fits him, though she is not entirely sure why. something about it feels not quite there, like the name itself falls just a step short of what her memory would have provided, but it does fit him. does fit the hat, the feather, the flourish of his step back onto the cart.

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.

[cointosser]

[He has not a clue what happens in the moments where she so hesitates before taking his hand, as if he's come up with some soft, secret name she hasn't a clue about. But clearly she knew her name, and the part that surprised her was that he knew it, too.

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?

[vixening]

[ it doesn’t really matter, does it? that rush of power, that feeling that maybe she is someone to be called great, someone known as powerful. she doesn’t know why the rush feels so good, why some part of her feels complete, with the knowledge. but it doesn’t matter, does it? she has nothing to be powerful for. no need, for a title like that. she is smiling, while she thinks of it, and it feels nice.

( 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…

[cointosser]

[It's not such a big deal whether she's forgotten hearing it or not. Jaskier is sure it still plays there, from other bards who follow in his footsteps. Understandably. He is so much more talented than those hired by Thorne.

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.]

[vixening]

[ the sound of his voice feels a bit like a shake to the shoulders, and she visibly jumps at the sound of it. outrageous. there is a very brief moment where a new feeling fills her chest, something harder, more defensive. outrageous he says, and she just nearly frowns, a kind of heat filling her chest. how is that outrageous? why would he call her that? but as soon as the feeling had risen, it falls away again, as julian shifts over in the seat and tells her that she shouldn't limit herself and it feels...

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. ]

[cointosser]

[He certainly tried. And -- ah, she gets it. He did, after all, write a song for him. (One of his lovelier ones, he thinks. Certainly much less bitter than Her Sweet Kiss -- but remind him not he has not even had an opportunity to play it.

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.

[vixening]

[ it is a whole set of events that she sets off, in that moment of off-balance. her had on his knee, his sudden tension, the way the song cuts off because suddenly he is there - his hand around hers as he helps straighten her. a red hot flash of embarrassment shoots through her, then, but it is the echo of the song that soothes her. ]

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. ]

[cointosser]

Only an assumption on my part. Don't worry too much of it.

[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?

[vixening]

[ there is something curious about how he says that - only an assumption. but doesn’t he know her? wouldn’t he know? yennefer finds herself studying this julian, curious how it is they became friends, how they came to know each other.

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.

[cointosser]

No, no. I mean, I may be famous, of course, but sometimes such praise can... it can strike a man. In a lovely way.

[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.

[vixening]

[ her brow arches gently as she looks to him - as if she cannot quite believe he would be stricken by such praise. he must be joking with her, he must, but the look only lasts a moment before her expression softens again into a smile, gentle around the edges. she likes the way he says lovely, she thinks to herself. ]

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. ]

[cointosser]

[Gods above, she has to be doing this on purpose... because she is saying all the things that the Yennefer he knows would most likely perish before allowing to grace her (pretty, supple) lips. He shifts in his seat, summoning a cooling breeze to cut across their path, if only to help alleviate the heat that flourishes through him.

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.

[vixening]

[ the wind cuts across their path and yennefer, despite herself, shivers a bit as it cuts. the wolf makes another huff of his breath and settles to lay in the space between them. yennefer, with a smile still on her face, settles a hand on the wolf's back, still curled in the fur, the warmth he gives off.

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.

[cointosser]

Too kind! [He snorts, too, and the similarity in their noises makes him laugh even after. He notices that, finally, the shadowing around her face appears to have settled itself, and he likes it. It feels... strangely, it feels real. Even if he knows nothing here is.] I daresay there isn't a soul out there who would claim I'm too kind. Though... all right, I have had plenty say I am a force of attraction as far as strife goes.

[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.

[vixening]

[ his laugh brings a smile to her lips, an easy curl that feels almost like a secret. and as he pushes off her comment, even as he says there isn’t a soul out there, yennefer turns up her nose. it’s dramatic, meant to be performative, as she says: ] Well now there’s one. [ then a smile breaks through again, easing into a laugh of her own.

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?

[cointosser]

[He is becoming acutely aware as their conversation travels onwards, along with his wagon, that he has made a grave mistake in playing with her for his own amusement, in finding a grim comedy in her without memories. Here he finds a sincerity he was never prepared for, and that he still cannot shield himself against.

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.]

[vixening]

[ 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. ]

[cointosser]

[It isn't his ego that agrees with her so readily. He has had a marvelous life. It... strangely, it continues to be marvelous, if only because it's so fucking strange, and yet they have all found their footing in this new world despite it. He has so many stories to tell. It's funny she should mention them now, when she has never once cared about them. Not his stories, nor his songs. And she would have many of her own, with her life as long as it must be.

All that is gone for now. For this day, or the handful of hours it'll be. She may not even return to this plane after this experience; he knows exactly how strange it is, recognizing what he'd done without memories. Realizing that the Singularity could steal them away so easily.

It's why he steals this. The kiss, the memory of this woman that no longer exists. (He feels it's only fair someone else remember her.) Though, once she presses back, it's far less of a theft. So he keeps his hand where it is, taking in the soft skin. The jaw she hid somehow. (Magic, perhaps? If he touched her face now, would he still feel the shape?)

Yennefer kisses already like one well-versed in it. And in his chest his heart pitter-patters, skipping in its rhythm. Not only at the idea of kissing Yennefer, but the fact she... she'll remember this. Won't she? He could recall everything he did.

Yes, well. That sort of thing has never stopped him before.

He pulls back for breath and a smile of his own. (Is this what Geralt feels? No, he thinks. Certainly the Witcher feels otherwise, for they are so different.) His thumb carefully follows her cheek, appreciating that shade of pink.]

Good. I was being very sincere. [It was the truth. His heart always manages to dig a little nest for itself in moments that stick out in his mind -- where he can find specific senses of comfort, or appreciation, or beauty. It's why he's loved so many. Why he continues to love.] But the story is this...

[The words come out in a soft song. Ah. Fucl. It was far more accurate than he'd ever imagined, wasn't it?] Your kiss is far sweeter than I was prepared for.