Jaskier "old-timey fuckboy" Alfred Pankratz (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cointosser) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
abraxaslogs2021-10-01 09:35 pm
cointosser) wrote in abraxaslogs2021-10-01 09:35 pm
[ CLOSED ] when I'm like this, you're the one I trust
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.]
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.]
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[ Ciri slumps. Her fingers relax, and she drops forward against Jaskier, pressing her forehead to the back of her hand. ]
What must you think of me? It never even crossed my mind that--
[ She'd meant to tell him. At some point. It just hadn't seemed all that important immediately, and they were finally settling into Cadens. Ciri hadn't expected he was harboring such a grim suspicion. She feels guilty and exasperated at the same time. ]
Why didn't you just ask me, you muttonhead?
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[He pats her back in the most understanding way he can. After three months of holding onto this suspicion, he had simply come to accept it. (And he can admit, for a moment, he wondered if that was what the magic explosion was. Destiny coming to greet him in the worst way possible. As fast as she possibly could.)
Ciri really goes for the gut, doesn't she?
When he pulls back, he's flustered, his cheeks painted an embarrassed pink.]
I... didn't want to be morbid. Or, really, think about it much at all.
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...fair. All right.
I haven't been nearly as straightforward with you as I could have been. Should have been.
I apologize for my part in this... slightly inane but I suppose understandable... misunderstanding. A weight off your chest, I hope.
[ Saints and gods of all the fucking universes. That was a shock. She feels like an idiot. And she feels like Jaskier is an idiot. They're both idiots.
Where's some brandy when you need it, dammit. ]
That wasn't even what I meant to tell you.
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[It's far from the first time he's heard it, thank you. But as he pulls back and she looks almost relieved, he gives her a snort and a little smile. Well. If thinking he's an idiot clears things between them, then he doesn't really mind. It's certainly cleared the air between him and the Witcher more than a few times.
(He is very relieved. A hand closes over his beating heart.)]
Er. Yes. [As if she's pointing out what he's doing, he lowers his hand.] Very much, actually. It's been a stressful few months, imagining being dead.
[Oops. Yeah, it's been months. Moving on.] Oh. I'm sorry, I may have sidetracked our initial conversation. The strange power and the people wanting to kidnap you or something, yes. It's funny, a bit, how that's, er, going on right now. With both of us.
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[ She looks at his hand pointedly, but in truth she is relieved. She really wouldn't have wanted him to live with that sort of shadow looming over him. And for no goddamn reason, to boot. What an imbecile. (And she does feel a twinge of guilt at having caused it, at apparently having been so cold he really thought that and didn't feel comfortable asking.)
Ciri straightens her hair and her sleeves, biting back yet another sigh as she shakes her head. ]
You needn't have dwelled on such a ridiculous thing for so long. You were perfectly healthy the last time I saw you. Fit as a fiddle. [ And now is not the time to say that the last time she'd seen him, they were being chased by guards. Or that this conversation is making her worried about what she's actually going to get back to eventually.
One thing at a time. Or she's going to completely lose her mind tonight. ]
You'll also be pleased to know you're just as annoyingly famous as ever, and you don't let anyone forget it.
[ Normally, she wouldn't talk about the future (her present) even this much, but it's a sort-of apology now. For making him feel like that. Hopefully, it'll cheer him up a little.
Though the next topic may be a less cheerful one by necessity. She grows serious. ]
It's all right. There is... simply a lot to tell. And I don't understand it all, myself.
You mentioned my mother's power. It is of her blood, the Elven blood she carried and passed on, but it has manifested in me in a way that far exceeds her capabilities. I am...
[ She hesitates. It's not because she wants to keep anything more from him, but she simply doesn't know how to explain it. Jaskier has studied histories and myths. Perhaps that is a place to start. ]
I am the Child of the Elder Blood spoken of in Ithlinne's Prophecy. [ There's no pride in her voice, only a heavy tiredness, a weight strapped to her that drags her down with every step. Ciri exhales. ] At least, everyone thinks I am. Me, or... some child I'm supposed to have. [ Her voice drips with disgust and anger. ] It doesn't matter. What I'm trying to say is--
[ Ciri stares at her hands again, now gripping one another tight in her lap, white knuckled and anxious. Her heart always leaps into her throat when she admits this. When she has to say it because none of them remember it yet, and she has to explain the horrors she is capable of. ]
I have spent my life running and hiding from those who would claim me for their own use. Because what I can do puts whole worlds in danger. And if Thorne wants to use the Singularity to harness and control its magic, imagine how they -- or any of the others on this continent -- might react when they learn that I too can open portals between spheres and channel raw chaos to unimaginable destruction.
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[At least she insists she herself is one of them, though. Then she finds good company in a trio of idiots, because surely Geralt is as stupid as the rest of them.
He does brighten. It's an easier feat than ever -- simply to know he's alive and famous. And he is the same. Why would he let anyone forget? Surely no one understands how much work he's put into having this bloody reputation! (He will not complain about how much work he is doing to reestablish it. Surely Ciri has already heard enough about it the last month.
He stares at her.] You must be kidding. She was already quite powerful.
[Well, he means, as far as he knows. He's no expert on Elven blood and what powers may come with it.
His fingers curl tightly around his blanket.]
You what.
[There is no scholar in Oxenfurt who has not heard Ithlinne's Prophecy -- even if it is, of course, seen as some Elven folktale.] Ess'tuath esse. Thus it shall be. [A folktale. Just... just like Filavandrel of the Silver Towers. Or the legend of Dol Blathanna. His finger curl more until the tips begin to pale. For someone who speaks as much as Jaskier does, he suddenly stumbles in trying to follow her. A child she's suppose to have? Is that how prophecies are supposed to work?
How the fuck is it supposed to be a prophecy one takes seriously?
By the end of it, he has no fucking idea what to do. His mouth opens as he attempts to say something, then closes again when words don't come. It happens a few times, the sweet nectar of apple turning sour in his mouth.
Oh. Right. Portals and raw chaos.
Of course.
He rubs his face with both hands.]
In retrospect, it's a bit silly I tried to teach you to make a bird.
[Translation: Hey. Hey, Ciri? What the fuck?]
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I wish I could just make a bird and that would be that.
[ She hopes he can understand why she'd taken so long to tell him now. It's just... it's a lot. ]
When I first arrived here, I found my abilities had been suppressed. Just like everyone else's in the dungeons.
But when we came to Cadens, I could sense that my general connection to magic was untapped, but the power of my Elder Blood -- the part of it that can take us home, at least -- is still inaccessible to me. I don't know why or how. My only guess is the Singularity is somehow interfering with my abilities.
My hope is also that this means the Wild Hunt won't be able to track me anymore.
[ Because uh. yeah, did she mention that part? the fact that the legendary spectral riders used to scare children in stories and said to bring bad omens are not only real and not spectral at all, but they are literally chasing her across universes? Sorry. ]
If the Singularity means they can't find me, then perhaps there's a way to lose their tail for good.
And, someday, unlock my abilities so I can bring you, Geralt and Yennefer where -- and when -- you are supposed to be.
no subject
Oh. Oh, of course. The Wild Hunt, too. Yes, can't do anything without them.
[You know, the mythological Wild Hunt that definitely does not exist, mostly used as a boogeyman to lure children to bed on time. The Wild Hunt was after Ciri because some Elven blooded bullshit made her the equivalent of a legendary artifact or something. Which could blow people up.
As one does.
He drops his hands suddenly with exasperation and, perhaps surprisingly, irritation.] Cirilla, the Lion Cub of Cintra, and my very dear friend, I know your biggest worry right now is not attempting to throw us back into our own plane. You have got to be fucking kidding me. How on earth could you even be thinking about that right now? [He gestures wildly, wincing when the movement hurts, but not stopping.] With all this shit happening to you? How are you even so calm? I would be losing my entire head!
[And screaming about it, and letting everyone absolutely know he was in the biggest trouble of his life. And she told Geralt about this? And that fucking beast kept it from him? (Okay, he can't blame Geralt, but he's annoyed and scared and it's easy to be annoyed with Geralt.)]
This only means we must double down on our lessons. No more birds. Or -- birds, if you'd like, but we need control first. A base level. Establishment of... of restraint and respect, on equal levels, for this power you hold.
[And his own, even if it is nothing compared to hers. It's all so reflective of himself. Hers did far more damage, but if she hadn't been able to stop it, would he have -- would she be all right? From the power those vines had exhibited? He couldn't let that happen again. Not because he was in danger. Not because he could not control them.]
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What she doesn't expect is for Jaskier to... scold her?! For reassuring him that her priority is still to get them home safely??
Ciri flinches back slightly at his outburst, startled by the intensity of it. If Geralt's ears weren't already good enough to hear them whisper in this room, he'd definitely hear that. ]
Jaskier! Please, keep your voice down! [ She scrambles to catch his flailing arms by the wrists, halfway on top of his lap on the bed. He's probably not talking loudly enough for anyone outside to hear, but she's just a bit panicked and tightly-wound right now.
He asks her how she's calm. He thinks she's calm. Ciri stares at him with naked disbelief. She doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. She doesn't know how to tell him that she's fucking scared to the marrow of her bones every blessed day and that she's lived like this for years and that if she doesn't figure out how to get them back home she might not even have any of them to return to, that she's terrified she'll end up wandering alone through unfamiliar planes, running and lost forever.
Of course she's losing her entire fucking head. Only constantly.
And after all this, after everything he's been through the last couple of days, after nearly losing a limb and his livelihood, this absolutely daft blockhead of a bard still wants to practice magic with her.
Ciri lets him go. She sits back down on the side of the bed and slumps over with her face in her hands and her elbows on her knees and just. Sits there. Shoulders shaking. Laughing and crying at the same time. ]
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And now their daughter, the Child of Surprise, going through all of this -- because he had to believe it, if Geralt believed it. He'd only fucking found out dragons existed, like, half a year ago. (It's been so long already.)]
I'm sorry. I'm sorry, this is a lot, but I'm fine --
[He stares back at her. All at once, she folds in on herself. Away from him. Perhaps away from the world. To him, she did look calm -- because anything short of running and screaming simply did not make sense to him.]
Oh, my dear. Ciri. [He reaches for her much more easily this time, giving her a tight squeeze. So it is too much. For him, for her.] Wait, are you laughing? You sound terrible. [Oh, no. He can't tell. That's probably a bad sign. He gives her the hug of his life, the scar on his arm shifting with the squeeze of his arms. He always sees it now, at the corner of his arm, but -- well, why the fuck should one mistake stop them? He's never run from his mistakes in his life. If he gave up because of one fuck up, he'd hardly be a bard at all.] I have absolutely fuck-all idea of how to help you, but rest assured, I will not leave you to this alone. I -- none of us will, I promise.
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When Jaskier scoots forward to hug her, Ciri leans sideways into him. She's reassured to feel how hard he can squeeze her despite his injury. She doesn't move to pull away. ]
...thank you.
I'm glad you're here.
[ It's a selfish thing to say. None of them should be here, and she shouldn't be glad he's where he shouldn't be, but she is, and she won't take it back. ]
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To be fair, she held it all back so well.]
Are you joking? I'm SO glad you're here! That we could meet! Not that I think you would be any less fun as a child, which... I suppose, for me, you would be still.
[He presses his lips to the top of her head affectionately.] You and Geralt. This place would be awfully shit alone.
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...yeah. It would.
[ But it's not. Well, not as awfully shit as it could be. Not as lonely. And Ciri knows what it's like to be all alone on a foreign world with only herself to rely on and the fear driving her forward.
It's not like that now. Despite the strangeness of their lost years, they are still--
Family. Her and Geralt and Yennefer. And, yes, Jaskier too. ]
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Well. I don't know what to do with all this, and I can't imagine why on earth you decided now was the best moment to tell me, but it's good to be behind us now. Please, if you can help it, try not to hide suspiciously ancient and dangerous prophecies and your inclusion in them if you can.
[It's, maybe, sort of a joke. He's... well, calmer, sort of -- mostly, he's glad that Ciri is all right. That she understands he's here for her, despite what happened between them. That doesn't matter to him. Like Geralt, it was accidental. And how could he hold it against them? When they both did everything they could to save him?
It's almost enough to laugh over. Like father, like daughter. Two attempts to off the bard.
He releases her before it can become too emotional and, he imagines, awkward for her.] Geralt knows all of this? The full extent of it?
[Mostly because he probably knows now. But also because Jaskier would rather not partake in the hiding of things.]
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But that is too heavy to say now, and Ciri suspects he understands. So she only nods, lets out a breathy noise that might be an attempt at a laugh, and scrubs the edges of her sleeves over her face. She's not wearing makeup today, at least. ]
I'll do my best. There are no others I'm aware of. And... if you have questions, I will do my best to answer where I can. [ Some things, she may not be able to speak on. She's still hesitant, and she knows Geralt is too. About their... future. About how everything might or might not still be as it should back on the Continent. But if Jaskier gets another stupid idea in his head again, she'll at least do her best to reassure him as much as feels reasonably safe.
To his question about Geralt, Ciri nods. As they pull away from one another to a comfortable distance, she rearranges herself on the edge of the bed with her closer knee tucked up beneath her again, facing him now with looser shoulders and a less frayed expression for the first time in days. ]
He knows. All of it.
[ She hesitates again, then. It's a bit of a snag she hadn't expected, how much Jaskier dislikes Yennefer right now. ]
...so does Yennefer. It's- I think it's why she stayed in Thorne.
[ Perhaps not all of it. Ciri's sure she has her own reasons (ambitions) but she knows it had certainly influenced her decision, and Geralt's decision to bring them here. She really hadn't meant to keep it from Jaskier so long on purpose, but it feels empty now to say that she'd simply... wanted to forget, wanted to get distracted, just for a little while. ]
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He does not want to stress Ciri out anymore. He's already made her cry, which is a terribly blow to his chivalrous reputation, which he undoubtedly has and maintains consistently.
Jaskier nods. Geralt would certainly know now, if he was listening. Which he probably was. It was simply a thing Jaskier has put up with on his travels with the Witcher. Nothing is secret, nor sacred. Geralt's manners are akin to a mule's, and hhe is subtle about absolutely fucking nothing.
It's charming. (Maybe.)
Jaskier's gaze flicks away at the mention of Yennefer, a suddenly roiling in his stomach that leaves him uncomfortable. Oh. Oh, no. Oh, fuck. Because the mention of her reminds him that. That he'd seen her. In his visions. The Yennefer he met in the Horizon. The one that --
He clears his throat.] I see. I thought perhaps she was simply having another spat with Geralt. [He turns back to Ciri.] I'm glad we've... we've talked, Ciri. I want you to know I hold nothing against you, I promise. And I don't want to drive you to fear these things you can do. Having only met you and beginning to know you, I am sure they can be beautiful things.
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That's a relief. I think I am quite tired of questions, myself. Another day, perhaps.
[ The offer is there: she's not trying to exclude him or hide anything more. They're both just tired. Jaskier understands that much.
Ciri bites back a sigh at the mention of Yennefer's spat with Geralt; her smile slips. She wants to be understanding and let them figure out whatever it is they need to figure out, but it is frustrating to watch. She can only hope that Yennefer is okay. The last time they'd seen each other, in the Horizon, Ciri hadn't even been able to ask her questions about her situation in Thorne, and can only hope she's not wasting away in a cell still. Or worse. ]
...thank you, Jaskier. [ But you have no idea what you're talking about, she doesn't quite say aloud. Just mostly. ]
Many would call you foolish, but it's kind of you to think so.
I'm just glad you're well now. I'm certain there are apothecaries in Cadens that can mix an ointment for your arm. The scar is fresh. There are ways to help it fade.
[ She should know. ]
I'll ask around tomorrow. Promise.
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Oh, please. People call me foolish for a million different things. Do you really think I listen anymore? [He pats her arm, giving her a classic Jaskier smile. He prefers to think on the positive side of things... because whatever she is considering about herself, could he not also imagine of his own magic? It's not the same, and it never will be, but to him, it's as dangerous as Wild Hunts and bloody prophecies. It can still kill him just as easily.
Exhibit 1, as he draws his arm back.]
You needn't bother. [He flexes his arm, tracing the scar with his fingers.] Don't you think it's fetching? I mean, now we all match! Perhaps one may mistake it for a very fierce war scar. Maybe I fought off a wolf, or -- or an elven assassin!
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Now we all match! He says it so easily. He says it because he already forgives her, because he can already move his arm again due to being magically healed, because it won't affect his playing and it doesn't disfigure him or hinder him. He is lucky; Ciri is happy that all of these things turned out to be true for Jaskier, and that any sense he may have had of how much worse it could have been has already fled him. To him, it can be a grand adventure, a new tall tale to spin for every pretty thing he's wooing who might ask him coyly where he got it.
Ciri knows he won't tell them the truth for her sake, and he'll hide the shameful thing with lies and stories, much the same way she pulls her bangs over her face and lines her eyes to distract and obscure. ]
Scars don't suit bards. And besides, you'll be singing a different tune [ no pun intended ] when you find your arm stiffening and itching and your range of movement impaired. I'll go to market, and I'll bring you something, and you'll use it. You'll still have enough left to tell your stories.
[ And it gives her something tangible to do, to help. Maybe it's selfish, her motivation equal parts desire to help Jaskier and the need to assuage her own guilt. Oh, well.
Ciri unfolds her legs from beneath her, moving to stand. ]
I think Geralt could use a hand with supper. You need your rest.
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That he knew of, at least.
He tips his head.] All that sounds awful. And you. You're awfully bossy, too. [When Jaskier lifts his eyes, his brows darken a bit as he tries to read her expression. It isn't like Geralt, who he feels he knows rather well inside and out. After all this time, he better. But Ciri is... an unknown. Surely she must know more of him than he knows of her.
His smile returns.] Very well, my lady. If you insist. [To be fair, he wouldn't mind skipping all that stiffening and itching. It does not sound very enjoyable.
He wonders if she's driving herself from him already on purpose. It's not in him to force her to stay.] Of course. Thank you for coming to check on me. [He gives her a little wave.] You must know I adore the doting attention.
[I do hope you'll be all right.]
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I do insist. Enjoy the doting while you can.
Once you're better, we've got work to do.
[ What that will look like, she's not sure yet. But she accepts his offer, tentatively, vulnerably. She's scared, but he's right. She must learn how to take charge of whatever the Singularity's done to her control over her own magic; Jaskier's scar will be a daily reminder, after all. ]