[ she had not even considered the need to send him a letter - some combination of the events over the last few weeks and the shift in needed communication and the weight that has been simultaneously lifted from and set upon her shoulders. being on the run, being hunted, wandering the streets of nott with her hood up and her features shifted so as not to raise suspicion - it is not an easy thing. but it also is not all that different from the mask, the performance, the thing she had so carefully crafted herself to be within the castle.
the whispers come that lyle plans on opening a portal, the news that they will be allowed to go to nocwich along with the rest of the summoned filling her with an elated, powerful, overwhelming realization-
yennefer goes, her foot barely setting down into the soil of nocwich before she takes off running. she cares very little for how it appears, how the cool wind of the forever-night air pushes her hood from her head. how every trip before she has stepped through with the ease and patience of someone who knows they are meant to be there, and now she rushes like her time is running out. she does not question whether or not he will be there, does not wonder if perhaps she has missed her chance.
she knows, like a final piece settling in the mosaic of her ribs, that he is here. that she will find him, and he her.
her feet take her into the square and further, her eyes searching through the stream of faces. her chest rises and falls, rises and falls, as she continues to push through the crowd, because he is somewhere among them. he is somewhere, here. he is-
when their eyes meet, it feels as though it has been lifetimes. not the eight hundred years they were woven in and out of each other's lives, not the years spent, lived, both on this continent and their previous, but something else. something more. yennefer, for the first time in what feels like a true, real lifetime, does not second-guess whether there are eyes upon her. does not worry for what the image says, or what it might do to later choices. she does not think, or second guess, or wonder - anxiously - if a hesitation will give it all away.
instead - she rushes. above them, the forever night continues on. around them, the conversations are had, reunions made and coins exchanged. there are countless bodies here, lives that know no better. meanwhile, she feels like everything changes.
geralt's hands are on her face, their eyes jumping over every inch of each other's expressions, and gods. there isn't even a hint of worry in her chest. not even a moment of concern. she feels like her breath fills her entire chest, knowing that this - this - is no magic, or image, no lies or masks or crafted distance stands in their way.
she kisses him, meeting him somewhere in the middle of the space, and it feels real. ]
no subject
the whispers come that lyle plans on opening a portal, the news that they will be allowed to go to nocwich along with the rest of the summoned filling her with an elated, powerful, overwhelming realization-
yennefer goes, her foot barely setting down into the soil of nocwich before she takes off running. she cares very little for how it appears, how the cool wind of the forever-night air pushes her hood from her head. how every trip before she has stepped through with the ease and patience of someone who knows they are meant to be there, and now she rushes like her time is running out. she does not question whether or not he will be there, does not wonder if perhaps she has missed her chance.
she knows, like a final piece settling in the mosaic of her ribs, that he is here. that she will find him, and he her.
her feet take her into the square and further, her eyes searching through the stream of faces. her chest rises and falls, rises and falls, as she continues to push through the crowd, because he is somewhere among them. he is somewhere, here. he is-
when their eyes meet, it feels as though it has been lifetimes. not the eight hundred years they were woven in and out of each other's lives, not the years spent, lived, both on this continent and their previous, but something else. something more. yennefer, for the first time in what feels like a true, real lifetime, does not second-guess whether there are eyes upon her. does not worry for what the image says, or what it might do to later choices. she does not think, or second guess, or wonder - anxiously - if a hesitation will give it all away.
instead - she rushes. above them, the forever night continues on. around them, the conversations are had, reunions made and coins exchanged. there are countless bodies here, lives that know no better. meanwhile, she feels like everything changes.
geralt's hands are on her face, their eyes jumping over every inch of each other's expressions, and gods. there isn't even a hint of worry in her chest. not even a moment of concern. she feels like her breath fills her entire chest, knowing that this - this - is no magic, or image, no lies or masks or crafted distance stands in their way.
she kisses him, meeting him somewhere in the middle of the space, and it feels real. ]