abraxaslogs | the fairy tales and little lies can't drown out all the sound [closed]

[Diana, for her part, would actually enjoy the wine, cheese, bread, and fire. The heat here doesn't bother her much, though it is drier than it was on Themyscira. She remembers the Front being cold, and while the snow had been beautiful, little else about the expedition had been. Honestly, she prefers the sun and heat to nearly anything else.

As he speaks, her frown grows deeper. It's clear that she finds what he's saying disturbing, especially the longer she thinks about it.]

That is horrible.

[She says it in a matter-of-fact fashion, as if it should be obvious to anyone. There's also a healthy dose of sympathy in her tone.]

Is wealth truly that important to your family?

[Jaskier's expression evens out as he tilts his head, a slight marring to his brows. He was only attempting to be entertaining, actually -- telling the truths of the world that most would understand. But the way she responds feels genuine, the way a child might react the first time they witness a kikimore biting the village gravekeeper in half. That moment where a new innocence is destroyed, where they discover death is not always like the stories -- neither clean, nor kind.

It isn't naivete, he thinks. Genuine surprise, birthed explicitly from inexperience. He thinks no lesser of her for it. In fact, he thinks well of it. To be free from such squabbles.]

Yes... it is rather horrible. [Which is why he became a bard. All right, it's not why he became a bard, and Jaskier still has always had a great deal of wealth to call his own, but getting away from the squabbles of royals has always been a important bonus to his lifestyle. He gets to watch it happen, but he's never directly involved.] Unfortunately, money and power are the most important things in the world to many people. [But he does move into a smile once again.] But not to us, as you can see! Which is why we're planting coral for free.

[She can see in his expression that he's... surprised by her reaction. Which is strange, she thinks, but there is a lot about the world--this one and others--that she doesn't yet understand. But while it may be normal in his world to view wealth and power as important, she simply cannot wrap her head around it. Perhaps it is a good thing she wasn't dropped in Thorne. While Diana has a head for politics and understands the power struggles behind them, she doesn't particularly enjoy them. It was one of the many things her mother often lamented during her upbringing.

His attempt to lighten the mood does work, and her expression smooths out into a reciprocating smile. While his words still nag at the back of her mind, she can at least put them aside until they finish their task.]

Not to us. [She echoes him with a good-natured laugh. She reaches for another piece of coral from their bin.] Come, the faster we do this, the sooner we can enjoy the beach. [Which makes it sound like she isn't planning to just immediately part ways once their task is complete.]

[If they had drinks, he'd absolutely toast her. And speaking of drinks, she raises an absolute blast of a point -- they could be drinking, instead of planting coral for free. Which, while he's very honored to do it and help nature heal and somesuch, he's obviously much more inclined to have drinks with beautiful, powerful women.]

My lady, you've made an excellent point. One of many to come, I'm sure.

[He reciprocates: why not spend a bit more time together? They're getting along! Saving the sphere! Helping the fish! Feeding them? He's not really sure what coral does. Do fish eat it? Who knows?

Unfortunately, the urge to get it done faster means he's swimming faster, and coming to the surface is interrupted when his foot slips between one freshly planted coral and the next -- unfortunately both completely adhered to the rock they've been planted on already. He flails with a gulped yell, swallowing bitter sea water, bending down to tug on the coral which are -- fucking -- rocks. Why does a rock need more rock attached to it??

If he drowns before he gets drinks with this woman, he's going to kill the gods himself.]

[Diana grins widely, and then dives down beneath the waves to slot her chunk of coral in between a few others. It seems to adhere to the mass below it immediately, and she's once again struck by the power of Cadens' magic--technology, they may call it, but the line is indeed very fine.

She's just reaching for another hunk of coral when she sees movement from the corner of her eye. Jaskier is still beneath the water, she knows, and her chest tightens at the thought of danger lurking in the depths. Diana immediately dives back into the water, arms raised and ready to defend--but the movement she saw wasn't a shark or one of Jaskier's other water beasts; it's Jaskier himself, reaching towards the surface, but apparently unable to get there.

Only a split second passes as she processes what she's seeing, and then she's darting towards him, swimming faster then she was minutes ago. For a brief moment, she pauses just in front of him hair floating out in a halo around her head as she assesses the situation in front of her, and then one mighty kick brings her face-to-coral with the rocks holding him hostage. The coral is sharp, there's no doubt, but Diana reaches out and crushes one of the pieces with her bare hand. No blood flows--it doesn't even break her skin. She reaches for the second piece, glancing back, hoping she isn't too late. She doesn't know how long men can hold their breath, but she doesn't imagine it's very long. At least, it didn't seem very long the last time she saved a drowning man.]

[In the nature of drowning men, he immediately clings to the first thing he can get hold of, the ocean seemingly roaring in his ears even if the waters around them are so still. He uses it to push himself to the surface, kicking wildly, flailing a bit as he breaks through --

And takes a long, burning breath, swinging his head about to whip wet hair out of his face and mouth. Oh, for the love of Melitele! He gasps again, holding his chest as the burning there subsides; once Diana breaches next to him, he nearly grabs her and kisses her on the cheek.]

Oh, fuck, thank you! That would have -- [He pauses to breathe, popping his hands against his cold cheeks as he shivers,] it would've been a terribly embarrassing death. [Though not as bad as the djinn one he almost suffered... and even now, his lungs and throat do not tear themselves apart as they had then.] I had no idea the bloody things could be so strong! They really should've hired bloody professionals!

[Or people who watch what they do, but still. He is talented in music on land for good reason.]

[He pulls himself towards the surface, and only now does Diana realize why her relief is so great; the last time she rescued a man from drowning, she spent several devastating minutes thinking he was dead. She still remembers how pale he'd looked, the way his face had gone slack and his limbs floated around him. To see Jaskier haul himself towards the open air eases her building panic.

Even as he begins talking, Diana is inspecting him as best she can while floating there in the sea, heart in her throat. Each word serves to reassure her that she wasn't too late, that he is alive and relatively well. She exhales slowly, shakily, and for the briefest of moments, she looks as if she's the one who has undergone a harrowing experience.]

Let's rest on the beach for a while.

[Her voice is surprisingly steady to her own ears. If he'll let her, she'll wrap one arm around his waist and start swimming them both towards the shore.]

[Okay, granted, he is grabbing her a bit now, because his whole body is beginning to shake now it's realizing he's survived. She's taking this. Well. Which is good, because both of them panicking would be even worse.

He nods, far too quickly to show he's calmed completely. He absolutely lets her help, his own arm around her shoulder.] Let's.

[He notes how easily she helps him through the water, how she broke rock, and is amazed in a far different capacity with her strength. Which -- look, he is not immune to strong women, nor unfamiliar with them, but their strength has always come through magic. Even Ciri's skill was with her agility, her chaos. Once on land, he falls to his knees and lets his body simply shake, shivering. Catch his breath even where his chest still feels like it's burning. After a moment, he finally turns around and sits back.

Shit.] You're all right too? My apologies. I didn't mean for so much... flailing.

[Despite the drag of the water and the way he's grabbing on to her, she moves as if he isn't a burden at all, and they make it safely to the shore. She crouches beside him, concern writ across her face, and keeps one hand steady on his back as he trembles. She doesn't see him as weak for his reaction; he'd nearly drowned, after all. Despite their longevity, there were some things that could kill an Amazon, and drowning was one of them. Having a deep respect and understanding of the ocean was something drilled into them all for good reason.

She moves aside when he adjusts his posture, remaining crouched and close. She doesn't want to go too far, in case he passes out. She's touched when he turns to her, and a gentle smile finds her lips.]

I am just fine. [The corners of her lips tilt upwards just a bit more.] And you did not flail... too much.

[He turns away at her answer as his stomach roils; for a moment he has the horrible idea he's about to vomit, but he only spits up water which is -- also disgusting, to be fair.

And to think, he's doing this for money he doesn't need.]

Sorry. [The flailing, the water vomit. Ugh. He lays back on the sand, letting all his organs drift back into the position they belong in.] I imagine you must be, considering all of that titanic strength. I don't think even Geralt could break a bloody rock like that without an elixir first.

[Well. Maybe. He's never asked Geralt to break a rock, because he never does anything fun. Now he has to ask him about it.] I suppose you do a lot of work. Farming, perhaps? Tilling very particularly rock-filled lands?

[There is not a chance in hell she is a farmer. For one, she's hardly burnt and wrinkled up, like a raisin. She's much more... grape.]

[While it is a little gross, Diana doesn't seem put off by it. Again: he almost drowned. A small part of her actually feels guilty that she didn't realize he was in trouble sooner. But he's safe on land now, and that's what she needs to focus on.

She follows suit, lying on her back beside him with her hands folded behind her head. The sand is warm beneath her, and the sun warm above; it's actually kind of cozy. The corners of her lips quirk up at the mention of Geralt. She voices what he's thinking:]

I'll have to ask him if he can, the next time I see him.

[Which isn't often, since they're both in and out of Cadens, but they cross paths now and then for a friendly spar or drink at the Inn. But his guess at her profession makes her laugh, and she rolls on her side to face him as she answers, head propped up on one hand.]

No, I was not born for the life of a farmer. But maybe some day I will try my hand at tending things that grow. I am a soldier, and I put my skills to use by protecting caravans as they travel through the desert.

[Oh, of course Geralt hangs out with giant strong women and never tells him about them. He's going to choke Geralt in his sleep one of these days, mark his words. And she goes around saving people from drowning! Apparently.

Jaskier lifts his head, ignoring the salt-tinged soreness in his throat. (He's going to hope this does not fuck his voice at all.)]

A soldier? [He looks at one of her arms, the muscles coiled with it raised above her head, and he very badly wants to squeeze it. Oh, he bets it's rock hard.]

A beautiful, graceful, gentle bodyguard, helping the poorest of men... it practically writes itself. [He may have added some embellishments already.] Tell me, do you slay monsters, too?

[The way he describes her is... well, it's very nice, and her expression softens as her heart melts a little. But though she's received a few requests to be a bodyguard, she has net to accept any--she isn't going to correct him, though. She's honestly a little too charmed to, perhaps for the first time ever.

She has the feeling that there's a little playfulness to the question--even just a year ago, she wouldn't have been able to answer without feeling a deep sense of dread in her chest. But now, she can simply nod, though her expression is a little more somber than it was a moment ago.]

I have, though I prefer not to. Despite being trained for war, I prefer to avoid battle.

[His eyes alight. He's looking significantly better for a man who just drowned -- but inspiration does such things to him. (His throat still hurts like hell, though.) What sort of man isn't fascinated with a woman who can protect him? Diana could even put Borch's Zerrikanian warriors to the test, he bets.

And that was years ago. Such women really leave an impression on him.

It does help she is not meeting him with some measure of abject disgust, but he was -- quite a different man then, wasn't he?]

Fascinating. A warrior who wishes not to be. [He smiles at her, imagining -- then what else is there?] If you could be anything, then... what would you do? What sort of life would you live?

[She can see the change in him, and if this line of conversation helps him feel better, she's more than happy to follow it. But the question does catch her a little off guard, and she lapses into silence as she considers.

After a minute or so, she lies back on the sand, looking up at the clear sky.]

I have never thought about another life. My mother wished for me to succeed her someday, but I pray I would never have to. [She rolls on her side to face him, her head pillowed on her arm.] My experience with other professions is limited to what I learned from tutors as a child. I just know that all I ever wanted was to help people. [She does smile a bit, then.] But perhaps I really would be a farmer.

[It isn't so terrible. He is content to wait, turning to the waves to watch them roll, rubbing a gentle hand against his throat. His fingertips glow a gentle blue as he works a healing magic against himself, now he's caught enough energy to attempt to.]

Yech. [He wrinkles his nose, his hand sliding down his throat, now less stinging, salted pain inside it.] Parental expectations. I never did well with them, either. I lived only to be a disappointment.

[He turns to meet her, too, his smile like a private joke between them.] If you ever do wish to start, I would be honored to spread your seeds. [He holds a hand out, growing from it a white anemone in his hand. He offers the flower to her.] Or make them. I mean, er, quite literally. Especially when you've proven how well you can help people, and I wish to repay you.

[She smiles a little sadly at that, and sighs deeply, settling into the sand.]

I...think my mother was disappointed in me as well. She never said as much aloud, but I know that I did not follow the path she wanted for me. I do not think that is something she was able to fully accept before I left.

[And it hurts to say it aloud, but she knows it is the truth. As much as a part of her may want to, she can't blame Hippolyta for it; she had carried the knowledge of her daughter's true nature for thousands of years, and had wanted to do everything she could to save her from what she imagined was a terrible fate.

She's distracted from her melancholy by the magic plant growing in his hand, and she sits up a bit, eyes wide and lips parted in wonder. She takes the plant delicately, cradling it in both palms as if it's the most precious gift she's ever received. A smile blooms across her lips, and her eyes spark with gratitude when she looks back to him.]

Thank you. You will be the first person I call. As far as repayment, you being safe and hale is more than enough.

Ah. [He waves a hand.] We can barely fault them for wanting us to be our best selves, but oftentimes one must live long enough to decide whether freedom or fulfilling their expectations is the better choice.

[A choice that everyone inevitably goes through.

Jaskier, at least, he can speak for himself -- freedom was always the choice he was meant to make.

He smiles back at her, noting that her delight is as innocent as a child's. As if she's barely seen flowers in her life. He doesn't tell her that one will live as long as he will -- he'd rather it be a surprise.] I'm hardly ever safe, but I do manage to keep myself alive, despite it all. You needn't worry about me, dear lady! A life too safe is a life too boring.

the fairy tales and little lies can't drown out all the sound [closed]

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i know this is very late, i was traveling! please feel free to ignore if you prefer to move on <3

no worries! I don't mind backtags so we can wrap it up whenever!

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