abraxaslogs | [ semi-open ]

Entry tags:

[ semi-open ]

Who: yennefer & various
When: september
Where: thorne, horizon, nocwich, etc.
What: canon update time!!!
Warnings: spoilers for s3, general witcher-related warnings, but will update with anything specific.

[ starters below, some closed, some open.

disarmingly for specific plotting ]

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[There's a feeling he may regret this in the future -- perhaps Yennefer will use it in her next temperous storm to prickle at him -- but he has yet to regret the pieces of their pasts where they have been splintered and broken and allowed the other to see inside. (He can look at her and see the girl with the misshapen back, the crooked jaw, who looked at him and then away, complimenting his song with only natural hesitation.)

She is a storm. A red sky at dawn. A garrotter. All those things he sang years back still hold true. (They could be about anyone, of course, they simply happen to suit Yennefer.)

And yet Jaskier, fool that he is, has taken a liking to her. A trust. Only a fool trusts a mage, let alone a witch. But here he is, serving her his wine, pocketed in his tree where they often meet for drink.

She hardly needs her permission. But it is enough that she waits for it.

The chaos moves through him like a breath. His hand clenches around hers, holding her tight. Memories of Radovid: a prince's efforts to manipulate him, Jaskier finally agreeing to relinquish Ciri to Redania in exchange for the death of Rience. His suspicions of Phillippa, his weakness in the face of Dijikstra's patronage to the routes the Sandpiper needed to build... and Radovid, singing his song with a voicce that wavered, yet still sounded so beautiful. The two of them beside the cottage holding Ciri safe --

The betrayal, finding Radovid standing over Ciri's empty bed. The curled form of the frightened prince at Thanedd, abandoned by his guards. Telling Jaskier to find Geralt first. Warning him.]

I don't know how it came to this. [He doesn't take his hand back.] He snuck up on me. A bad habit. It's just... funny. [He tries to smile, to laugh, but it never makes it past his lips.] I knew a war had started, and the two of us are nothing but pawns in it. We were nothing in the face of the Continent shifting entirely. Yet he pricks me still, like a needle.

Edited 2023-11-19 08:40 (UTC)

[ it is entirely possible he will live to see a day where he regrets this. yennefer has all but accepted the fact she knows she will regret all that she's let him know of herself, that she will live to see the day where even the darker, uglier sides of her will be immortalized in song; but that is also a problem for a different version of her. a different decade of her life. yennefer has accepted that she wouldn't be in this place right now if it hadn't been for jaskier - his song through the floorboards, his wavering voice when he spoke of the attack on bleobhris, their conversation below the deck of what was supposed to be her escape, and all that followed. or, if she were to be more honest, it is the image of the tavern in his horizon, the sound of snapping tucked away in dark corners. the bird, her sandpiper, sitting at her windowsill when she had no one else. the room within this very place, just a few floors above them, that had been for her when she hadn't anywhere else.

it all feels so very far away now, even when she knows it was only a year or so, but she knows what it had done for her. years and years worth of material that jaskier will always have, and yennefer has just come to a place where she will live with whatever comes of that.

he squeezes her hand, which is how she knows he feels it, and yennefer watches his face. she knows the various ways the spell could be done, how different mages work the chaos through another's mind to pull important information, clues from days long gone by, interactions that would aid the kingdoms they'd been assigned. yennefer's felt it forced upon her just as often as she's welcomed it in, an opening of gates, a sharing. yennefer's eyes only fall closed when she catches her first sight of the prince - her body, dressed in long dark fabrics, walking along the outer edge of each interaction, each moment, down to the very end.

his voice is what prompts her to open her eyes, and she does notice how he doesn't pull out from her hand. yennefer listens, watches the way the smile doesn't ever really form, and it's not until jaskier is done that she finally exhales - her thumb rubbing gently over his knuckles, a mindless motion, something she's not even all that aware of herself. ]

The last I checked, we did not choose who it is we fall in love with. You should know this better than most, what with your open heart. [ and it feels...gods, she feels for him, in her own way. a pang in her chest, right behind her ribs, knowing that there is nothing to be done.

she can still picture the image he'd shown her, of the shape of radovid standing above ciri's empty bed, and yennefer struggles to separate her own mild panic with what she is sure was jaskier's response in the moment, too. of what came after, even though they both know she's safe. but more than that, yennefer finds herself caught up on the hollow sound of jaskier's voice. or, maybe it isn't hollow. maybe it is something else entirely. but she wants to help, even when she knows there is nothing to be done.

still, when has that stopped her before? she tugs his hand further across the table, closer to her, just to catch his attention. when he looks, her eyes will be direct. serious. intent. ]

You're allowed to miss him. [ because it's not as though yennefer herself hasn't made mistakes, made then in numbers greater than any one person probably should. she doesn't even know if that's why there is something tangled behind jaskier's eyes, but she tries for it anyway.

in the end, ciri is safe. she is alive, and she is here, with them. and whatever wars will follow them, whatever shifting of the continent was soon to follow, it will all work out. because she is safe. ] Just as you're allowed to forget him, if that is what you want.

Love? [He blanches immediately, withdrawing his hand as quickly as a snake strikes. A whiteness to his face, and then a burst of color, of red -- like embarrassment, or outrage. It isn't anger that floods him, but it is similar to what he felt when Vespula called it what it wasn't -- a crush -- like he'd eaten sour fruits that were fermenting inside of him.

Bubbles. Uncomfortable, sulfuric.]

I don't -- [And he shrugs, and drinks wine, and even Moglad appears to be bothered by all of the show; his wings flapping harder as he buzzes past them to gather another bottle of wine even without being asked.] That would be ridiculous. Utter posh. Fools fall for royalty, because all of that power, and wealth, and glam... it's all a lie. It always has been. You know. You know just as well as I do. There is hardly anything real under the veil of bluebloods.

[And yet...]

But I do miss him.

[For whatever stupid reasons.

Moglad gives a bow as he serves them another bottle, eventually landing on the table with a tired Kupo... Clearly, Jaskier's mercurial emotions are a workout for him.] And I won't forget. I made a mistake trusting him -- at least at first -- but I have never been one to forget my regrets. [He does meet her gaze now.] A trait I'm afraid we both share.

[ he jerks his hand from her grip and yennefer lets him, like she'd been expecting the reaction and eases into her own accordingly. her hands are back around her wine, her brows up at his following moments. incomplete sentences, splashes of color across his face, the shrug. yennefer lets it all play out, watches him with what had first been an empathetic expression that now shifts to something...not entertained, exactly, but close.

it feels a bit like she's been here before - like, in that other life, he'd been aggressively denying the subject of his melodies. that song could be about anyone, anyone he'd said, and yennefer had nodded, and agreed, much like she feels like she's doing now. ]

Of course- there's nothing there at all unless you're after the seat itself. But sometimes you're not. [ she smiles at moglad as hurries off to grab another bottle, taking a sip from her own goblet as her eyes turn back to jaskier. ] You would know better than me, I think. You've done it before- what was her name? Duchess of...? [ and perhaps that's a bit of a low blow, she's pretty sure whatever duchess claimed to have ongoing relations with jaskier had been from a time before even she and he had crossed paths, but what is time at this point? for either of them?

but he does miss him, and that is the point of this all. but there is something about the way he says it, i made a mistake, that drops yennefer's almost-smile to something else. something a bit heavier, that pushes her to reach for the bottle moglad had just brought the two of them and to refill both their glasses. ]

But I wouldn't compare our regrets, my dear husband. It would not be fair to you.

Doooooon't. I know what you're thinking, how you're doing that -- that thing. [That thing. She knows. They've been here before. They've been here before and it is seemingly impossible, considering it's Yennefer, of all people. Possibly one of the least empathetic witches out there.

And yet.]

The Countess de Stael. [Is who comes to mind first, because she is sorely one of the first women to truly break his heart.] The -- The Duchess of Toussaint was a fling, nothing more. A one -- or four-night thing. Hardly a trifle.

[But he remembers her, very exquisitely. And he did go back. After those first few nights. Or -- so the rumours said.]

Why? Because yours are so much more dire, or because you're so bloody old? [He smiles back at her as he takes a sip of the newly poured wine, more sour than the last... and perfectly what he wants.] Yooou don't want to admit we're alike. I get it. I would have rather cut out my tongue years ago than admit such a thing. I can grow. [Accompanied by his closed hand opening, like a flower blooming.] Life is all about growing.

[Somewhere, hidden in all of those useless words is this: thank you for listening. I needed this.]

Edited 2023-12-06 07:37 (UTC)

That thing. My, you really are a wordsmith sometimes. [ she knows exactly what it is he's referring to, but she won't let the opportunity to chide him pass her by.

his mention of the countess, and then the duchess, has her giving him a flat what did i just say? kind of look. she knows she's right, especially in this, but she lets jaskier work his way through it.

she also knows jaskier well enough to know he would focus on that to shift the conversation, which is why yennefer isn't all that concerned with the exhausted, dramatic sigh she releases - the roll of her eyes when she takes her own sip of her new glass, her expression shifting briefly to something more appreciative. gods, if there is one thing she can't ever deny about jaskier, it is that his taste for wine is quite decent. ]

No need to get testy just because your crow's feet have settled in. It gives you a dignified look. It works for you. [ and her grin is playful, easy, and may or may not be accompanied by a knowing look. she gets it, she does, and she's content enough to let their conversation ease into something else.

she knows that there are other things they aren't touching on, especially those that have to do with the book of monoliths and jaskier's apparent conversation with some sort of time-shifting demigoddess elf.

but maybe, also, that can be saved for later. ]

How is your- [ she gestures at the flower blooming in his palm. ] Progressing? Have you tested its limits lately?

Oh, I am not that same bard. I'm matured. [He raises his glass.] Like fine wine. Like fine wine. [And yet he's battling the idea at dipping a finger into his wine and flicking it at her, petulantly.] Anyway, I'm still younger and lovelier than you, so --

[His point stands! Er. Whatever his point was. The point can be anything as long as it isn't about Radovid, about love, because love is a very special thing and he -- he does not throw it to royals. Not to people who betray him. He has love. He has Nadine, and he had Hector, and he has the people who are close to him still.

He has everyone he's ever needed.

Jaskier smiles.] I have my own plant shop, a park I planted and flowered entirely myself, and a front garden. Which no one else in the bloody desert can claim, thank you.

[ he denies it, continues to deny it, and yennefer merely sets her chin in her palm and watches him. her eyebrows are up, though not arched exactly. merely waiting, watching, as if she has tired of trying to pretend she believes him but is still trying to entertain the idea of it all the time. matured he says, like fine wine and yennefer lets out a huff. ]

You should enjoy these years- what are they? Your fifties? Sixties? It was a good decade, could be quite fun. [ it is quite purposeful, being this wrong with regards to his age. because there had been a point and they've both danced around it for long enough that yennefer, supposes she can let it go for now. she hardly wants to bring up the concept of loving those who have betrayed you, hardly wants to touch on the topic of throwing love here and there.

and perhaps, maybe, some part of her knows she isn't the one jaskier would want to hear it from, anyway.

so onto his magic they move, jaskier's smile wide and happy and full of pride. and for good reason, seeing as yennefer knows better than just about anyone else, the effort it took to come to this place. ] Wow, a front garden. Impressive. [ a smile, playful, as she sits back up and takes another long sip of her wine - not quite draining the glass, but coming close. ]

And what of your fauna? I suspect you have a small flock of birds following you just about everywhere, but have you tried anything bigger?

Oh, wooow, you're still as funny as I remember.

[Which is to say, not at all. Obviously. And if she was anyone else, he may have thrown a roll at her by now. Instead, he's spreading cheese upon rosemary and parsley crackers for the two of them -- very rich, salty stuff, cut by a dollop of sweet blueberry jam on top.

He wraps his lips around one, licking jam from his finger.]

It is impressive if you've ever seen the desert hellscape that is Cadens. [This is a safe topic, though. She can poke and prod all she wants, and she will always be a better mage than him, but he has built himself to this. He has trained and learned lifetimes of knowledge of magic in the space of years.] Not only can I create the birds, I can become one, thank you. Two different sorts, actually. And... you know, I've gained a spell -- if one could call it that -- that crafts an entire feast, instantly. Completely with wine. It makes some very good cinnamon rolls.

I should hope so; if your memory is already failing, that would be a different discussion.

[ if the smile is anything to go by, she is expecting the thrown roll. waiting for it. asking for it. but instead he is spreading cheese upon crackers and handing one to her before indulging in it himself, and she is not far behind. if anything, yennefer seems to resettle in her seat, leaning back as she seems to almost prepare for a much longer conversation - or at least, a much longer monologue from jaskier.

it is a safe topic, it is also a topic she feels like is safe between them - the first extended conversation they ever really had while in abraxas had been in regards to this very magic, and whether or not jaskier is proud of the work he's done (as he should be), yennefer feels her own small amount of pride in it. of work in it. (it, in this context, being jaskier's response. his excitement. his confidence.) ]

And how good is the wine? I'm assuming at least halfway decent, but that level of detail in the spell would take a lot of chaos in expense.

[Ugh, she's making this an actual challenge. Instead, he sticks his tongue out at her before popping a cracker into his mouth.

That's growth. Maturation. Like a fine wine. Speaking of --]

It's very good wine. Not the best, of course, but the whole feast idea is merely about, you know, providing food, instantly, using magic. Perhaps that is not incredibly impressive to such a famous sorceress... but considering I've almost saved my life with it, I'm satisfied. [He smiles, and it is there -- it is not the arrogant knowledge of knowing his skill in music. This is still a tiny bird in his hands. An infant thing. A few years of chaos is nothing in comparison to his already full life. It still feels fragile.] It can heal, or provide a dose of energy to those drained of it. And, you know, I'm tweaking it... sometimes I prefer a cabbage roll over a pierogi, for instance.

[ oh yes, definitely maturation. he sticks out his tongue and her brows lifts and there's something inherently familiar about the whole exchange. a return to normal. it's also why when he says very good wine she just sort of rolls her eyes, clearly not believing him. or, rather, making her opinion clear on what he considers 'not the best' ]

Chaos for survival is still chaos. [ she says, seeing the smile and recognizing the feeling. she'd felt it not that long ago herself, the rush of excitement, of wonder at the smallest show. it had been so long since she first learned to harness chaos that it had taken her losing it all again before she felt it again, but it is still fresh to her here. ]

And healing magic is always useful. [ another sip of wine, and then she shifts, feeling the weight of the conversation shift with her. ]

A cabbage roll? You can't be serious. Why would you ever prefer a cabbage roll?

What? [He startles, gaping at her.] What's wrong with cabbage rolls? I love them! They're so wet, and... and home-y! Oh, you've made this an entire thing, now I'm making it a conversation.

[And so he shall begin sharing the merits of cabbage rolls, and specifically the cabbage rolls his chaos makes, because this is the life she is living now.

It is an annoying one, perhaps, but it is no mere coincidence Yennefer's glass never fails to be full as he fills it, and he never fails to offer her more food, or reach to tuck a bit of stray, wayward hair behind hear ear.

Annoying one, but fond, too.]

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[ semi-open ]

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also okay to head into wrapping or to follow the next convo WHICHEVER YOU PREFER

YES let's wrap soonish and move on to her sad anakin feels bc I want them

YES!!!

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think we can wrap? 🎀

i think yours is a perfect 🎀 !