[He nods. Lost in the explanation, he looks at Sam now. What he expects (what he cannot help but expect) is Sam coming quickly with the reassurances he'd tried to give himself and Ciri -- he's after something good, he doesn't think of letting anyone know, he does not need guardians -- but that isn't what Sam does.
It leaves him feeling as if he'd made a leap over a precipice and misjudged the distance.]
Roach found us, more accurately. [With what Ciri thought was blood staining her flank, but Jaskier simply is skimming over that detail. It doesn't matter.
I can help. And he's not already gathering everything he needs to do it.
Jaskier has been so carefully stepping around Ciri to make sure that she doesn't fuck off and disappear to the same place Geralt has that he has not had time to lose himself in his own worries. He simply does not worry about Geralt. He never has. This, though. It feels different. And they were never meant to be here.]
Yes. Around there. [He looks from Red to Sam, the bird tilting his head as if to signal something. Not that Red needs to. Jaskier isn't a fool.] No, I don't think -- it's not that I don't trust you, because I do, but Ciri is on edge and I've barely managed to stop her by myself.
[And he has a suspicion Ciri would not be thrilled to have anyone she does not absolutely trust with them, especially if... if something happens. He trusts Sam, but he cannot give him Ciri's secrets.] I'm sure it's nothing. Perhaps he ran into a particularly cranky basilisk. [He doesn't believe that at all, actually.
It's not convincing. He pauses, then takes Sam's hand. The color has not returned to his face.] Are you all right? Don't tell me you'll miss Red that much.
[And there's Jaskier to a T -- the same one who'd made jokes after meeting Lady Death right on the edge of her lands. If anything, the tightness in his chest coils tighter. Something feels off, and it's not only about Geralt.]
no subject
It leaves him feeling as if he'd made a leap over a precipice and misjudged the distance.]
Roach found us, more accurately. [With what Ciri thought was blood staining her flank, but Jaskier simply is skimming over that detail. It doesn't matter.
I can help. And he's not already gathering everything he needs to do it.
Jaskier has been so carefully stepping around Ciri to make sure that she doesn't fuck off and disappear to the same place Geralt has that he has not had time to lose himself in his own worries. He simply does not worry about Geralt. He never has. This, though. It feels different. And they were never meant to be here.]
Yes. Around there. [He looks from Red to Sam, the bird tilting his head as if to signal something. Not that Red needs to. Jaskier isn't a fool.] No, I don't think -- it's not that I don't trust you, because I do, but Ciri is on edge and I've barely managed to stop her by myself.
[And he has a suspicion Ciri would not be thrilled to have anyone she does not absolutely trust with them, especially if... if something happens. He trusts Sam, but he cannot give him Ciri's secrets.] I'm sure it's nothing. Perhaps he ran into a particularly cranky basilisk. [He doesn't believe that at all, actually.
It's not convincing. He pauses, then takes Sam's hand. The color has not returned to his face.] Are you all right? Don't tell me you'll miss Red that much.
[And there's Jaskier to a T -- the same one who'd made jokes after meeting Lady Death right on the edge of her lands. If anything, the tightness in his chest coils tighter. Something feels off, and it's not only about Geralt.]