[ Found home. Something about that makes him pause. He hadn't exactly intended it like that, and when he hears it repeated it back to him, he realizes—
Realizes a truth he is far too fuzzy-headed to parse. (Sometimes it still strikes him, that Ciri does not hate it there, at Kaer Morhen, or resent spending the remainder of her childhood in that place—not as the princess she was meant to be but with a Witcher who hadn't a fucking clue what he was doing with a lost princess, other than to take her to a dying fortress where she would be safest and give her a sword.)
He leaves after a second, without saying more. Jaskier has accepted it so fucking easily, the Witcher's place in Cirilla's life. As though it's exactly as Jaskier expected things to be. Not even a question of doubt, to the bard, that it is a good thing Geralt found the girl and took her in.
He almost wishes he carries the same certainty. But he supposes, as he catches sight of Ciri in the dwindling crowd, she seems happy enough at the moment. ]
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Realizes a truth he is far too fuzzy-headed to parse. (Sometimes it still strikes him, that Ciri does not hate it there, at Kaer Morhen, or resent spending the remainder of her childhood in that place—not as the princess she was meant to be but with a Witcher who hadn't a fucking clue what he was doing with a lost princess, other than to take her to a dying fortress where she would be safest and give her a sword.)
He leaves after a second, without saying more. Jaskier has accepted it so fucking easily, the Witcher's place in Cirilla's life. As though it's exactly as Jaskier expected things to be. Not even a question of doubt, to the bard, that it is a good thing Geralt found the girl and took her in.
He almost wishes he carries the same certainty. But he supposes, as he catches sight of Ciri in the dwindling crowd, she seems happy enough at the moment. ]