( The sharp retort goes once again unacknowledged, sliding off Dean without further commentary. This time, perhaps less to do with any commitment to peacefulness between them and more to do with the striking resonance he still feels from looking at the poor bastard. The pit, the iron, the blood, the pain. I cannot even fathom what this poor bastard has been through.
Lowly, under his breath and largely to himself, comes the dark mutter of: )
I can.
( But it doesn't matter. It doesn't bear thinking about. They can't undo it, it's already over, and whatever that thing is now, he's not a person anymore. He's a-
-whatever French thing Jaskier just said. Prisonach du frommage.
There's only one thing left to do. He gathers brush, and dead wood, and whatever else he can find to begin building a pyre. From his saddle bags he pulls out a hefty pouch of salt, and sprinkles it over the piled remains before they set the thing ablaze — just for good measure. He hasn't seen many restless spirits since he's gotten here, but if there were ever cause for one, whatever happened to this guy surely qualifies.
The ride home is grim. What happens after, even more so. )
no subject
Lowly, under his breath and largely to himself, comes the dark mutter of: )
I can.
( But it doesn't matter. It doesn't bear thinking about. They can't undo it, it's already over, and whatever that thing is now, he's not a person anymore. He's a-
-whatever French thing Jaskier just said. Prisonach du frommage.
There's only one thing left to do. He gathers brush, and dead wood, and whatever else he can find to begin building a pyre. From his saddle bags he pulls out a hefty pouch of salt, and sprinkles it over the piled remains before they set the thing ablaze — just for good measure. He hasn't seen many restless spirits since he's gotten here, but if there were ever cause for one, whatever happened to this guy surely qualifies.
The ride home is grim.
What happens after, even more so. )