[ CLOSED ] when I'm like this, you're the one I trust

[cointosser]

Who: Jaskier, Ciri, Geralt, eventually Sam?
When: First week of October
Where: The desert outskirts of Cadens
What: Jaskier attempts to help Ciri learn magic with disastrous results.
Warnings: Bodily injury, may move to mild body horror depending.



[With the climate they found themselves in, it only made sense for them to really embrace their new... eccentric talents. At least, that was what Jaskier tells himself, and when he tells himself it -- regarding Ciri, in particular -- it all makes sense, of course. If they are all gifted with magic, then it only makes sense to make use of it.

After all, it's free. And they need skills to make a living off of. As far as he understands, Ciri is, er, well. Like Geralt. A hunter.

Magic, hunting. It all fits together.

Okay, fine. He's terribly bored also. And he's tired of being the only one with magic around here. (He's still avoiding the whole plant thing. He prefers not to think about it, actually.]

All right, my dear. I -- well, I don't claim to know many, er, spells, but we can start on what I started on. Simply a little bird. [He, of course, adds a completely unnecessary flourish to his movements, and a bit of sparks, holding out his hand with a dove sitting on his palm.]

It's a bit hard to describe. I sort of... imitated watching it, I suppose.

[He sort of definitely wants to see Ciri try to imitate his flourish.]

Comments

[falcony]

[ it’s comforting, truly, that jaskier doesn’t seem at all in pain. whether it’s the potion working, or something else, the shifts in his expression are at some curious, at times soft, but generally in-edges by the level of pain he must be in. sam notices his fingers curling, and worried that it may be a tightening of muscles and tendon, sam slides his fingers between jaskier’s. he doesn’t think much of it, about the gentle way his hand settles in jaskier’s, but another glance shows him the potion is working. that jaskier’s arm will be okay.

his attention shifts up at the appearance of another figure, and he allows himself the easy smile upon seeing geralt, with a green eyes girl on his shoulders. geralt and ciri, yennefer and moglad. sam watches them all come to jaskier’s side, worry and concern and companionship, all in different ways.

sam blinks, the sudden thought of a family at a sick loved one’s bedside filtering through. jaskier makes some comment about his kitchen, about being busy, and sam squeezes his hand. ] It deserves a chance to be used. It’s been a while since I cooked for so many.

[ so many, all brought together through jaskier. so many, all here just for him. of, maybe, it’s more apt to say - so many that jaskier would want, here. in the tunnels, the visions sam had and had shared were all of the darker sort, traumatic events laid plain and open. here, jaskier brings him a family. his family.

( and sam, in some distance way, feels almost like he’s intruding. a bystander, in an otherwise private moment. )

the smell that wafts through the room is warm, seasoned, stew. sam feels his own stomach grumble, at it, and even if he knows none of this is actually real, he can’t help but eye the way this yennefer squeezes jaskier’s hand. how she makes room for ciri, one of her arms going over the young girl’s. ]

Jaskier… [ sam says softly, trying to get his attention. ]

[cointosser]

[They crowd around him, and sometimes move in and out in unnatural ways that Jaskier is too far gone to really notice. This all fits into what his heart wants: some comfort, some bitching (from Geralt, of course), and the girl who is both a girl and a woman but with the same green eyes -- and in the back there are shadows of others: a tall white-haired elf, and a smaller white-haired man with a low voice (why is it always the white hair? Hector really mustn't had called him out about it --) There's a vampire, though one could hardly tell by looking at him, and those mean are shadows that move in and out compared to the solid colors of the people he knows the best.

And, of course, there is no need to look for Sam, because he's the closest. Jaskier squeezes his hand and finds there is enough strength, for a moment, to do it... and then his strength is leeched away, Ciri's magic unknowingly still seeping into his veins.]

You stay. [He feels some part of Sam pulling away, so he must be insistent. No one can miss the party. In his other hand he grips a pearlescent dragon scale, and near the back is a shorter woman with horns and a tail.] Someone has to keep them in line. And Geralt is terrible at crowds.

[He doesn't hear Sam's call of his name, his grip slack already. He turns his head and the visions all shimmer and shift, until his eyes close and he is once again unconscious. The potion attempted to fight the leeching of his life, but it couldn't heal him and protect the fluttering pulse that has grown lighter by the minute.]

[falcony]

[ this is the part sam had been expecting - the odd sensations, the things that aren't quite right, figures that don't make sense for the space or the things around them. there are some faces sam recognizes, some he isn't sure are from here or home. they all come with the same intention, the warmth of comfort, of gravitation. sam is a bit struck at how, given the opportunity, jaskier hallucinations a doting crowd - but not exactly in the way he might expect. it holds the smile on sam's face as he watches them, coming close and then backing away again, focus and features solidifying and then easing away again.

the squeeze around his hand, though - that's something of note. something good. sam's eyes go immediately down to their hands, and then to jaskier's face, smiling broadening with the first piece of solidly good news. he can work the hand, still, and while the wound is still piecing itself together, it looks better with every second. better, good. sam lets out a breathing, without realizing he'd been holding it for a few moments. ]

I'm right here- not going anywhere. [ the words remind him of their conversation in sam's home, of what it feels like to return somewhere, to stay. sam squeezes jaskier's hand back gently, reaching up with his still free hand to wipe away some of the dust and grime from jaskier's brow, his forehead. ] Nowhere I'd rather be.

[ and that is when sam feels jaskier's grip so slack, watches as his had turns into the pillow. the images around them start to fade off, disappearing with jaskier's consciousness, and sam waits. for minutes, for hours - with his hand still in jaskier's, one finger on his pulse line just below his palm.

jaskier's heartbeat is stable and consistent, sure, but sam just. needs a moment to double check it stays that way. ]