Yennefer understands it a bit better now than she had before, that pull that brought her back. To Aretuza, to the Brotherhood, to the one thing she had been so certain she left behind. Now, especially, with how so few of them are left. How lost her sisters are. When Yennefer had felt Tissaia do what she had done, when she had burst into that office to find her body lying limp in that dark pool, Yennefer was certain that was the end. Everything she had been working for, everything she had, gone. Taken from her by Vilgefortz, with only Yennefer, standing alone in the ashes of what he left behind.
But it is never that simple, is it? It never could be. Because she wasn't truly alone. Geralt had been the one to remind her, when she'd gone to him in Brokilon; they need you. Because she wasn't alone. Because she had them, too. And now they were all that was left.
Yennefer leaves herself open, a specific decision she has made, for their connection. For him to feel everything filling her chest, threatening to boil over. The rapid sound of his heartbeat does wonders to temper her panic, as she matches their pulse to - in equal measures - calm him as much as having her arms around him is calming her. "You shouldn't have been alone. Someone should have gone with you, to make sure-" It's too late and they both know it, the should haves and the woulds. When she pulls away to look up at him, her own hands go to his face, to the familiar beard and cheekbones and up into his eyes. He's fine, he's alive, and as each moment passes that fact feels a bit more solid.
"He's taken everything from me." She says after a moment, the words that were once quiet, upset, desperate now shifting to something quite different, and yet still her own. Angry, sharp, threatening. Istredd knows Yennefer's anger as much as he knows any part of her, so the threat need not follow.
But then Istredd is asking after Triss, after Marti, and whatever fire had been building lessens. She shakes her head, tugging him close until their foreheads are touching. For him to see, if he goes to look. To check, though she knows he'll believe her. "Triss is alive, with me. Tissaia-" Yennefer's voice breaks, something wet and fresh bubbling up in the back of her throat. She takes a breath, closes her eyes. Because that is it, isn't it? She's no longer afraid.
"There were so few of us left, after, but there are enough. We are deciding how to- we are going after him. To eliminate him. To protect the future of magic." A beat, a breath. "We will find you, too."
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But it is never that simple, is it? It never could be. Because she wasn't truly alone. Geralt had been the one to remind her, when she'd gone to him in Brokilon; they need you. Because she wasn't alone. Because she had them, too. And now they were all that was left.
Yennefer leaves herself open, a specific decision she has made, for their connection. For him to feel everything filling her chest, threatening to boil over. The rapid sound of his heartbeat does wonders to temper her panic, as she matches their pulse to - in equal measures - calm him as much as having her arms around him is calming her. "You shouldn't have been alone. Someone should have gone with you, to make sure-" It's too late and they both know it, the should haves and the woulds. When she pulls away to look up at him, her own hands go to his face, to the familiar beard and cheekbones and up into his eyes. He's fine, he's alive, and as each moment passes that fact feels a bit more solid.
"He's taken everything from me." She says after a moment, the words that were once quiet, upset, desperate now shifting to something quite different, and yet still her own. Angry, sharp, threatening. Istredd knows Yennefer's anger as much as he knows any part of her, so the threat need not follow.
But then Istredd is asking after Triss, after Marti, and whatever fire had been building lessens. She shakes her head, tugging him close until their foreheads are touching. For him to see, if he goes to look. To check, though she knows he'll believe her. "Triss is alive, with me. Tissaia-" Yennefer's voice breaks, something wet and fresh bubbling up in the back of her throat. She takes a breath, closes her eyes. Because that is it, isn't it? She's no longer afraid.
"There were so few of us left, after, but there are enough. We are deciding how to- we are going after him. To eliminate him. To protect the future of magic." A beat, a breath. "We will find you, too."