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

[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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