[ 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]

[ when sam makes it back inside he takes a moment to close the door behind him, if only because he does worry - about jaskier, too focused on geralt (even with his insistence geralt was okay) or geralt, upon half-waking up, wanting to come in and check on jaskier. it's a matter of separation, of moving between each space just long enough to get something taken care of.

jaskier's response - coherent, together, complete - has sam smiling just a bit wider. moving to come to the side of the bed he'd spent most of the last night and day before. ] It'd certainly behoove something. [ god, he's never going to get over their vocabulary differences, is he? but even so, it is all said with fondness. a kind of tiredness that is expected, given the last two days.

it's not until jaskier says sir that sam, having been almost distracted by what he should be worried about, looks back. lifts a brow. ] You know, it kind of sounds like you like following orders. [ which, for all that has happened, carries an inflection of that playful flirtations, of an easily curled smile. if it were any other day, sam would probably keep up the tone. the joke. the back and forth. but as it stands, he sets the broth and water down on whatever nightstand might be provided and pulls a chair up to settle next to jaskier's bed. ] Yes, you can sit up. [ and then, because he doesn't think he can put off the question for much longer. ] How do you feel?

[cointosser]

[Surely Jaskier must feel more alive with the teasing tilt of his smile, or he's simply putting that much effort into appearing more alive -- both for Sam and himself. He is very good at moaning and groaning, thank you, and yet he feels strongly that Sam deserves a break.

It cannot be easy having all of them be so... so apparently here.]

Only when the right man gives them.

[He doesn't have it in him for a wiggling eyebrow or a teasing purse of his lips, but it is miraculous that, over a few strained moments, he manages to sit up. His movements are slow and calculated, and Jaskier cannot help but brace for pain in case it moves over him again. There was so much of it. That, at least, he recalls.]

Oh, you were begging to ask, weren't you? [He rubs his face, his eyes closing. He feels... well, with a poet's soul, he feels very much. But the answer comes to him quite simply.] Overwhelmed. [He lowers his hand and turns to Sam.] Yet quite simply alive.

[He knows some time must have passed. If only because he knows what that sort of worry in Geralt's face looked like. And, now, he sees hints of it in Sam.] You must be exhausted as well. Please tell me you're the type to take time for yourself after all this running around.

[falcony]

[ but that’s just the problem, isn’t it? because sam doesn’t mind them here - if anything, the energy of all the bodies and the movement of people here has him feeling more in control, more together. all sam really feels himself worrying about what to do, what he can do, and how he’s going to go about fixing it all.

ciri’s still out there - and while he knows she can’t get too far, not with red watching, it’s still another unaccounted for body. and alina, god alina, sam is already starting to think about how he’s supposed to explain all this to her.

all the same, jaskier’s teasing smile, flirting tone, does wonders for sam’s stress. because yes - either jaskier feels good enough to joke, or at the very least has the energy to put up a front. ]

Didn’t we already talk about this? [ sam recalls a conversation about being mister right, a dance, a front lawn and a gentle kiss in the kitchen. still, he smiles, feels encouraged by it all as he suddenly tenses when jaskier moves to sit - arms at the ready if he needs the help.

when jaskier settles, so does sam, watching with a close eye to see if there’s anything else wrong. anything he catches. ] I bet. [ after all of that, who wouldn’t feel overwhelmed? but it’s when jaskier turns to him, says very much alive the relief and happiness and all together light air to his smile is easy to read. ] And good. It was a close call there for a moment.

[ sam sees a flash of jaskier’s seizing body, the fading color, the irregular heart rate. he still doesn’t quite know what happened, still hasn’t quite pieces together why things happened the way they did, but. they’re better. jaskier is better.

sam snorts at jaskier’s worry, immediately turning to pick up the cup of water, leaning over a bit to hand it to him but not quite letting go - unsure if jaskier will need the help. ] I’m doing better than you, or Geralt, at this point. Plus, exhaustion and I go way back. This is nothing new.

[ sam looks at jaskier, pointedly. drink the water. ]

[cointosser]

Mmm. Maybe.

[As if he's forgotten. It's not the sole reason he recalls reaching for Sam's hand and holding it there, but it certainly was part of it. And now those images are filtering back to him, albeit slowly and, mostly, in a jumble.

He breathes a laugh.] A close call. Is that what it was?

[He feels that's perhaps the boldest euphemism he's heard for a man who was rapidly tearing down death's door, but it's not lost on him that Sam is often careful with his words. A much softer bedside manner than he's ever had with most healers. Even Chireadan, a rarity among even human healers, had been rather gentle with his pronouncement that Jaskier was definitely going to die.

Jaskier had absolutely been about to die. He was not kidding himself. And as much as that thought terrified him, it changed nothing to not believe it, either.]

I don't believe it's quite hard to be doing better than me. Don't brag about it. [He does take the cup, though it's slow and his hands shake a bit, as if he hasn't eaten in -- ah. Days. That would explain it.

He doesn't bring it to his mouth yet. Give him a second to remember he has a body, please.] You know I want to ask. [He turns to meet Sam's pointed gaze. He is so beyond immune to pointed gazes at this point.] What he did. I don't... really remember. Is he all right?

[He'd said Geralt would be -- because Geralt always was -- but now he is worried, a little bit, that Sam brought up his condition at all.

Somehow it brings to mind the wound Geralt came here with. The bite. The one that... should have killed him, too.

Fuck. They were all so very good at almost dying, weren't they?]

[falcony]

It’s what I’m gonna call it.

[ perhaps it was much more. perhaps jaskier may have been at, if not beyond, death’s doorstep. but it doesn’t matter now, knowing that he’s fine. that he’s sitting up, he’s laughing, and even if he looks just a bit too fragile and a bit too weak. ]

I won’t brag if you don’t try and turn the attention back in me. [ sam’s brow lifts, marginally combative, before he’s immediately leaning forward with the cup in hand. he’s gentle, with jaskier. patient. there’s not an inch of him pushing further or faster than he thinks jaskier wants to go.

he sits back only when it’s obvious jaskier has the cup in hand, eyes glancing to the door for a brief moment before letting out a breath. ] He’s passed out, but okay. Stable. [ he’s starting to hate the sound of that word, after today.

sam sighs, arms crossing over her chest. what he did. that’s a damn good question. it’s something sam is still trying to piece together himself. ] Honestly, I have no idea. He mentioned channeling, and that you were being drained, and that I had to take his arm and your hand and just kind of… [ sam gestures. that.

but then, a moment later, sam softens - eyes turning back to jaskier. ] What do you remember?

[cointosser]

[Ouch. Sam's got him there. Especially when Jaskier hardly ever takes a chance to turn attention off of himself.]

Passed out? [He stares at the water, then brings it up slowly to drink. It's odd. Passing out. He only does when he's been injured, to allow his body to heal. He's worried and he isn't, but... gods, it says a lot that Geralt allowed himself to go unconscious. Here. In front of Sam.

To save him. What had he done, though? He remembered the potion. Some of... what he must have seen. Honestly, where the fuck had Sam even gotten that thing?]

Channeling. [He lifts his head.] I think I know. I've read it in one of the books here. [What the fuck had Geralt gone and done that before? He isn't even sure if he'd vaguely mentioned it to him or not. Had he? It was the act of... of sacrifice. Of magic sacrifice.

And Geralt did not have magic. Not like the rest of them.

So that's why. Why Sam was needed.]

He gave his life for me. [It's that simple. That infuriatingly simple. The Witcher that did not like being involved.

Jaskier smiles, and turns to him with a lightness in his chest.] Pleasant dreams. Warm hands. Your charming smile. [He winked.] Much better than the last time this happened.

[falcony]

[ sam nods, glancing out to the door over his shoulder before allowing himself to exhale, stress and tension leaving him with the breath. it's been a long few days, he will admit that easily, but it's finally letting up. ]

I think he was trying to make it out the door. He didn't get far.

[ the potion was another conversation entirely. sam would tell jaskier all about it, if he asked, but it's not that interesting a story. the tunnels, the worm, the stolen crystal. how sam has had this potion tucked away for months, trying to find a moment to use it. this was the right use for it, he knows that; he just never thought it would be with everything else, around it.

when jaskier lifts his head, though, sam's attention comes back to him. ] You read about it here? [ so it's something, at least. something they knew could happen, and wasn't just entirely a risk. except then jaskier says gave his life and sam pauses, just for a moment. because something about the words, about the puzzle pieces of what they could all mean, suddenly feels a lot more dangerous than sam had realized.

but it only lasts for a moment, because then jaskier is smiling, winking, saying things like warm hands and charming smiles. so of course sam finds himself smiling in return, laughing - once - at the idea of all of the danger and magic and fear and pain has a last time. even after just recently brought back from the brink of death, and already jaskier is lightening the mood. lightening sam's mood. ]

Have you thought about not finding yourself in mortal peril?

[cointosser]

That certainly sounds like him.

[He moves the cup slowly in circles, spinning it with small movements of his fingers. The movements with the injured arm feel somehow off, but he cannot quite tell how. It's not pain, really. More like a gentle pulling, like of a strand of hair, deep inside his arm. At the question, Jaskier nods. He did so much reading in Thorne, and now here. Learning the entirety of a world in a few months was quite the undertaking, if you asked him. On top of learning magic.

Luckily he'd always been a good student.

He hums something close to a laugh.] Ah, but unfortunately, it is not I who goes looking for mortal peril. It is completely out of my hands if my friends are so good at nearly sending me to an early grave.

[He thinks with Sam, he understands the lightness of Jaskier's tone -- that he doesn't blame either one of them. And then suddenly, he laughs.] Oh. Like father, like daughter. They've both had their attempt.

[He may be a little loopy still, but there is some sort of cosmic comedy to it. That both Geralt and Ciri have almost killed him. Through no fault of their own. That he may, in the future, already be quite dead. Was Destiny toying with him now? With a man who walked both sides of the grave? Ah, now he understands Hector so much better. That he did not ask the vampires to turn him; he did not want to face eternity. Has a month of this thinking turned him into some sort of realist?

It's much more likely that being so close to death has situated him into a feeling of shock.] I bet you regret tumbling into our terrible little troupe.

[falcony]

[ sam snorts at the snide comment about geralt - barely able to stand, but heading for the door. it does certainly sound like him, but in the same breath, the reality of that moment is also not lost on him, either. that geralt did hesitate once sam had made it to him. how he'd let his weight settle, leaning back against him instead of actually pushing away.

as long as he's sleeping, that's all sam can really ask for at this point.

he's curious about what all jaskier has read. there seems to be so much about magic in this world that sam has barely scratched the surface of, a kind of situation where sam would prefer to remain removed from if he can help it, but the longer he stays the more he realizes he...well. he can't, really, can he? he makes a note to maybe ask jaskier about more of it, later. when he's not loopy with... whatever just happened.

sam's brow arches at the comment, though - curious but unsure if now is really the time. ] Geralt? Really? [ but then sam eases back from that curiosity, if only because he's not entirely sure jaskier wants to talk about the last time he almost died. his tone is still light, though - just as much of that laughter, of the lack of blame - when he speaks. ] Okay, well, have you thought about getting better friends?

[ he can see something cross jaskier's eyes, then - a seriousness, and maybe something else. being that close to death, that shrouded in pain, it puts quite a bit of the world in a different light, and he wonders what it is jaskier's so worried about.

but the thing is - sam can feel himself getting settled, into this spot. a chair next to a bedside, a familiar place for him. but sam also knows that he can't quite get settled, either. he promised geralt he would go after ciri, and he still needs to. red is watching her know, so he knows he has a little time, but he can't get too comfortable. he's not even entirely sure what happened, but he remembers the look on her face, when she'd entered. the way she'd backed away so quickly. it feels a bit like sam is sinking further and further in over his head, but he has to try, doesn't he?

at the question, sam blinks - pulling himself out of his thoughts. ] What? [ then he smiles, laughs a little as a hand runs back over his neck. it feels a bit ridiculous, that he could regret being in this seat, this position, with these people. if anything, this is the first time sam's felt like he's done anything since being pulled through that portal. but how does someone explain that? ] Nah, not even close. [ and even if his words are light, airy and easy, there is a genuine honesty to each and every one of them. sam hasn't even considered anything about this being too much, or anywhere close to something he wouldn't want or somewhere he wouldn't want to be. ]

But you sure keep things interesting, I'll give y'all that.

[cointosser]

[Jaskier smiles, knowing in his way, and then sips the water finally. It took more energy than he wished to use, but it's such a cooling balm, he takes another.] Not his fault, of course. He simply wished for me to be quiet for a spell.

[Okay, that sounds terrible, but he's not in a mind to be really paying attention. Jaskier shakes his head.

No. He hasn't thought about it. His friends are perfectly fine. And as he looks at Sam, he knows that even as the group he considers friends grows wider, the quality has not dropped at all.

With all his complaints, it possibly sounds like Jaskier would not attempt to defend Geralt. But he would be the first to do so, if his character were on trial. Despite his faults -- and they are many, specifically his penchant for being gooey, gory, or sticky -- he is. A good friend.]

You're a glutton for punishment, I see. A regular masochist. [He drains the rest of his water, setting the cup aside.] They may never say it, but we're all very glad you're here. Specifically me, of course. And whatever potion you put in me. I'll have to find a new one to replace it, since apparently we're to be in dire need of potions to bring one back from the brink of death.