[ 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]

[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.