[ CLOSED ] pack up your tents to travel

[gynvael]

Who: Geralt + Various
When: October, pre-event
Where: Cadens, Horizon
What: Catch-All
Warnings: Standard Witcher canon; nsfw marked

three stars are pinned above;
howling their hope in shadow;

(( plot with me discontinued ))

Comments

— john; jaskier.

[gynvael]

The house, unsurprisingly, is empty when Geralt returns with John. Jaskier, he expects, must be away on business in Libertas and Ciri is no doubt finishing her job somewhere on the trail.

The ride was long but not especially hard all things considered. No further monsters struck and the guards at the gates showed no sign of giving them trouble. He isn't certain if they know John to be from Thorne, but Geralt had tossed his cloak over the man—covered in dust and dirt as it is—to avoid too many questions over John's clothes.

He shows John the tub, the living room, and of course Geralt's own bedroom where John will be staying for now. So long as there are no objections. They wash up together—may as well—before he leaves John to get some well-earned rest. Geralt, meanwhile, ventures into the kitchen to dig up some...hm. It ought to have been dinner, but given how long they've travelled and the sun now in the sky, he supposes it's breakfast.

Luckily, with Jaskier around, the kitchen is well-stocked, insomuch as it can be given the shortages in the city. He finds a loaf of bread, a pot of stew still warm on the stove, and a jug of ale. He doesn't turn when he hears John's footsteps some time later, but it's clear he notices from the smile that graces his lips.

"Feeling better?"

[iustise]

John certainly does not object to the bath, nor to the idea of staying together with Geralt in his room. In truth, he had been more than a little uncertain as to how Geralt would handle this arrangement (Geralt being, well... Geralt), but sharing his room with him is a relief, even if his relief is somewhat tinged with a little shame and embarrassment. He is a grown man, it's just that he is starting over again, and so having Geralt close at hand is a welcome reassurance.

Laying down in Geralt's bed, in Geralt's house, while Geralt leaves him to it, still feels awkward. But it smells like him and after having spent centuries in each other's circles, in Geralt's cabin in the woods and the bed he had made for himself there, the awkwardness soon passes.

A few hours later, John blinks his way into consciousness at the smell of stew and stumbles, somewhat bleary-eyed, toward the smell. His hair is a little mussed from his short rest, but otherwise he's looking much better than he had been previously, the shadows under his eyes much lighter now than before.

"Much," he replies. "This may be my hunger talking, but that smells wonderful. Did you cook? Am I about to find myself spoiled with home-cooked meals now as well?"

drives my honda and crashes into this thread

[cointosser]

Jaskier enters his house mostly the same way he always did: expecting nothing and already complaining to Geralt, regardless of whether he's home or not, but considering the smell of stew that immediately hits him (he didn't even ask), he clearly is home.

"You are never going to believe the day I've had." He starts, walking through the hallway and only briefly stopping to toe off both of his boots. The smell of slightly dank water follows him as he walks, pulling his shirt over his head while he veers into the kitchen. "Not only was Feainna having a fit when we couldn't find the other chocobos, I was practicing a bit of water magic when she almost bowled me over and erupted the bloody spell!"

That is, to explain why he is completely soaked through, head to toe, and throwing his wet shirt at Geralt to put on the stove to dry. "However, happily I can make you a cup of the most placid water you can imagine if you ever wish --"

He's passed through the kitchen by then and quite suddenly stops, rewinding his way back into the kitchen to see there's a man at their table.

"Oh, hello John," he says, then begins walking again, with a casual air he must have had for many of their meetings when he was a spritely little god; a completely unconscious thing until it quite suddenly isn't, and he's jumping back into the kitchen, spraying water everywhere as he throws up his arms. "John, you cheeky shit, what the fuck are you doing here?" Jaskier, having already forgotten about the whole soaked ordeal and his present shirtlessness, rushes over to give him a hug with crushing insistence. "I mean, seriously, what the fuck are you doing here? How --" He looks to Geralt over John's shoulder with suspicion. "Did you kidnap him? What the hell were you thinking?"

[gynvael]

The majority of the furniture in the house possess a rustic quality that hearkens back to the cabin they sometimes shared. It is, frankly, because Geralt has built much of the chairs and tables and beds here, too, not out of necessity but for something to do. He's not a man who settles and now that he has, for over three summers, his hands often itch for more to do while he's home.

"Depends. Do you consider heating a pot cooking?" His smile is fond. He can cook a passable soup or grill some rabbit, but as for this meal, no. It's courtesy of Sam, with whom Geralt exchanges the meat he hunts for a pot of something home cooked. Which means that it's excellent in flavour.

He's about to offer John a drink when he hears footsteps he recognizes immediately as Jaskier's. Normally, he does not bother glancing up nor even greeting the bard, but he's not a fool and he realizes that he has not told Jaskier about John's arrival. And that Jaskier will, with no hesitation, comment upon it.

It is what it is.

He continues to stir the pot while Jaskier says his piece, tilting a little to the side to try and fail to avoid the spray of water.

"I fetched him last night," he replies mildly. "There was some trouble in Thorne."

[cointosser]

Unfortunately for John, Jaskier does not remember to let him go first before he starts unleashing all the suspicions he's had of Geralt for ages. First of all: that he's an absolute bastard and an agent of chaos, and not capital letter chaos, just the sort of chaos that exists in the world to, quite personally, fuck with his life, in a very personal manner.

"Fetched? Fetched? You talk about this brilliant, lovely man like he was a dog you found out in the desert!"

Now he finally lets go of John to go over to Geralt, slapping him on the shoulder to look at his face. Then he whips his head back to John. There's dots, once foreign dots but now quickly becoming localized, that he's connecting. "What the fuck do you mean, trouble? You mean the war that is starting? That trouble? For fuck's sake, Geralt, if they gave awards for understatements, you would be crushed under the weight of the bloody thing!" He turns back to John, his expression quickly turning apologetic. "I'm so sorry you've had to deal with him. I don't know where you came in, but if you've had to spend even more than an hour alone with him, it's a miracle you haven't expired from his personal interpretation of humour. How are you? I haven't seen you, since --" He gestures wildly with his hands as if this will perfectly describe the moment their 800 year future began crumbling in a giant magical storm. "How, how did you escape from Thorne? I know it was an escape more than it was not."

Thorne does not let Summoned go. Especially not now. Did he take advantage of the war, perhaps?

Jaskier swings back quite suddenly to Geralt. "And you! You have a best friend -- in the world, might I add -- with an exquisite, specific experience in smuggling, the very skill you needed to bring a man from Thorne here, and you don't even tell me you're bringing him? You're going to be lucky if you survive the night, Witcher. I may be poisoning your bowl of soup specifically." He turns back to John. "Please know I have no wish to harm you and it will only specifically be Geralt's, and I will continue to do so until I find the exact formula to give a Witcher dysentery, so don't skim off his portions. Which has nothing to do with you, I'm very glad you've made it here safely."

[iustise]

John is about to make a comment about his own talents for cooking, or lack thereof, when Jaskier enters and he finds himself swept into the whirlwind of the other man's presence (and soggy, shirtless embrace). A smile breaks across John's face as he raises his arms to return the hug, not minding a little dampness, in the name of friendship.

John, to his credit, does not realize that Geralt has not prepared Jaskier for any of this. Though he is quickly coming to that realization, the more questions that are pelted his way. He raises his eyebrows slightly, especially at the explanation that Geralt does offer, but then again, it is rather typically Geralt.

He takes a breath and thinks about intervening, but Jaskier is off again and John simply -- allows it to happen. A small smile twisting at the edges of his mouth as he watches Jaskier oscillate from verbally dressing the other man down and apologizing to John himself. Oh, but he has missed this bard.

Jaskier has peppered him with so many questions John does not quite know where to begin, but he figures he has to start somewhere.

"Very technically," he says with the curve of a smile, "he did find me out in the middle of the desert, but that's only because that's where the portal chose to spit me out."

John's expression sobers slightly, as he continues, "The situation in Thorne... Has grown too volatile. First the coup, and then the attacks." He flicks his eyes across the kitchen, toward Geralt. "A few nights ago, my company was ordered to report to the frontlines. I -- cannot fight for a cause I do not believe in. Not when I know that there are those I care for on the other side." He glances back to Jaskier, spreading his hands as if to say, thus I find myself here.

Obviously, there was quite a lot more involved.

[gynvael]

Here they go.

Geralt takes a breath, then releases it audibly. Then he returns to serenely stirring the pot of soup. He could list the reasons he did not inform Jaskier, but the truth is, this isn't about that and they both know it. ("They both" being he and Jaskier; John has not been sufficiently forewarned of...however the fuck one might describe the relationship between he and the bard, but, hm.

He's a quick learner.)

He lets John address Jaskier's long list of concerns. The only thing Geralt adds is, "Yen took care of it."

One may accuse him of deliberately adding fuel to the fire. That may or may not be true, but Geralt's lips do twitch just the smallest hint from behind the scraggly curtain of hair that's fallen loose of the leather cord. In any case, Yen was the more logical choice. What could Jaskier have done to locate a portal-capable mage in Nott from here?

Although—

"Besides, you helped pay his way." He's most definitely stoking the fire. It was partly Jaskier's money, though, in the sense that Geralt's coin earned from hunting goes into the pile of gold that Jaskier keeps, seeing as Geralt has no interest in squirelling away funds for a future beyond the next week.

He whisks the pot off the stove, now steaming hot. His gaze shifts to Jaskier as though the bard has not just finished threatening him with shitting himself to death. "Breakfast?"

thank u for the patience ;;;

[cointosser]

Obviously, there was much more involved. It's a bit like how Nadine and Julie got here, then. A wild escape. A portal. Into the bloody desert, even! He could have been killed. Or worse.

The gasp Jaskier takes physically makes him take a step back, the feathers in his hair making themselves known as they fluff up and stand on end. "You told Yennefer? And not me? My gods, by the time I'm done with you I'm going to have a whole new near-death experience to add to my ballad."

There's a crack of what is unmistakably something akin to thunder, and a small amount of rain begins to fall onto Geralt's head.

A small evolution of his water magic that manages to drip only onto Geralt's head. And maybe a bit in his soup.

Jaskier crosses his arms and stalks away, planning on stomping out until he stops to scoop Mog up into his arms, who greets him with several chirps. The gryphon appears to be psychic, because Jaskier apparently calms with the weight of him in his arms again. "John, as much as I respect your desires, just know you could do better." He says it like a sing-song, taking a seat next to him. He ignores Geralt, fully expecting him to serve all of them. "You made a wise decision, I think. But have you thought of what you'll be doing here? I cannot say the military here is any more trustworthy."

[iustise]

John has to hold back what amusement might otherwise show on his face at Jaskier's display. From the feathers fluffing up in his hair (now that is new), to the little thunderstorm he has appear over Geralt's head. Luckily for John, he has been in politics, so he manages to temper his expression fairly well.

As Jaskier settles down next to him with the little gryphon, John offers him a somewhat apologetic smile. Only somewhat, however, because he is not really sorry to be here or to have escaped Thorne. The two are mutually exclusive ideas. Ever since Geralt had planted the idea in his head, the thought had been growing. The desire to take him up on it. Not only to free himself from everything he had found himself entangled in over there but also -- to be here. Together, at last.

"I..." he starts, glancing at Geralt somewhat sheepishly before shaking his head. "I will admit I had not quite thought that far ahead just yet. Although I think perhaps I have learned my lesson, as far as enlisting to fight for a cause that I myself do not wholly believe in."

[gynvael]

Really? Geralt raises an eyebrow and plucks a small bone off the counter. He throws it with a Witcher's aim directly at Jaskier's forehead.

Do better, his arse. Said as though Jaskier were also not in his bed every other night.

Perhaps he should have taken John someplace less, hm. Prone to chaos. For his first night here. Then again, chaos is all Geralt knows with both Yen and Jaskier in his life so John may as well begin acclimating now. He does miss his quiet forest, truly.

"Plenty of work outside the army here." John may be a nobleman but Geralt has learnt he's far from the idle sort. He expects John will have no trouble finding something to do. "The war's taken workers away, anyhow. Stables are missing a few hands."

Well. He assumes it was the war. Maybe they simply vanished or defected to Thorne or...whatever the fuck else it might've been. He isn't certain how things are in Thorne but the Free Cities have often been a place of constant change.

He sets the stew on the table, shaking off his damp hair and making no effort to avoid spraying Jaskier with it.

[cointosser]

The bone strikes Jaskier right between the eyes, making him drop Mog (who curses at him with a squawk) as Jaskier bends over to hold the spot it hit with a fuck. Ow. "That was absolutely uncalled for." Jaskier gives John a look as if to say, can you believe how immature he is? As if there's not a rain cloud stubbornly following him around the room.

Jaskier heals the growing bruise on his head with a touch of chaos and a gentle sparkling from his fingers, then crosses his legs as if it never happened in the first place.

"So, you've only come with Geralt's illustrious company in mind?" He wipes water from his face and makes sure it rains even harder on Geralt, before the magic sizzles out and the rain stops. Not John's most intelligent decision to date, he can imagine, but it's true enough that Geralt has quite the stable life. A place to stay, steady coin, a very rich friend. "Come, you can't really be offering him up as a stablehand. Whatever you're interested in doing, John, I'm certain I'll know the right person to introduce you to."