Geralt isn't entirely sure what to expect, nor does he consider it deeply one way or another. Gifts are purely about the gesture for him. He doesn't need much, wouldn't at all feel slighted should he receive no gift, and primarily anticipates it will be something of a practical nature. Most who know him have determined—correctly—that he hasn't much use for frivolous trinkets or clothes.
So when John offers him the leather-bound, he imagines the inside to be blank. A place for him to record something useful: discovered monsters, unusual magicks, perhaps ingredients to a new potion. Geralt seldom writes anything down but he does make use of records now and again.
Instead, when he opens the journal, it is already filled. Filled entirely, he sees, as he flips through the pages curiously before returning to the start. John's tidy handwriting covers every inch of the book. And when he begins to read, he realizes it for what it is: an exceptionally long letter, practically a memoir, one that John has obviously put his whole heart into. For a while, Geralt is quiet as he reads the foreword once, then again. He isn't sure what to say or think. He's always known John possessed a certain depth of feeling for him. He'd be an idiot not to notice. He cares for John in return. More than that, John invokes Geralt's desire to protect as much as he knows John can and would protect him in return. Despite how often John remarks that he is merely a human, to Geralt, they have never been anything except on equal footing.
But he has never been with anyone who would lay their soul out so openly. For the first time in a long time, Geralt can't help wondering what he's done to have merited this from John. It's a strange thought to have. He doesn't usually entertain questions of what he deserves. Not in love, not in friendship, not in misfortune. Not for years. Not since he's grown older and, he likes to think, a bit wiser. He takes what good and bad comes to him alike, tries to leave behind what will hinder him, and moves through life with simple acceptance.
Now he's suddenly...here. With a man who sees so much in him, it's a little startling. More so because John is so damn goodhearted. Geralt can't recall a single time when John has spoken an unkind word about anyone. Except, possibly, the once he cursed a belligerent guard before immediately growing embarrassed about it.
With the greatest care, Geralt closes the journal and reties the leather cord around it. Unlike John, he's a man of few words (none, really). So his reply is just this: his hand going up to cup John's cheek before he leans in to kiss him.
no subject
So when John offers him the leather-bound, he imagines the inside to be blank. A place for him to record something useful: discovered monsters, unusual magicks, perhaps ingredients to a new potion. Geralt seldom writes anything down but he does make use of records now and again.
Instead, when he opens the journal, it is already filled. Filled entirely, he sees, as he flips through the pages curiously before returning to the start. John's tidy handwriting covers every inch of the book. And when he begins to read, he realizes it for what it is: an exceptionally long letter, practically a memoir, one that John has obviously put his whole heart into. For a while, Geralt is quiet as he reads the foreword once, then again. He isn't sure what to say or think. He's always known John possessed a certain depth of feeling for him. He'd be an idiot not to notice. He cares for John in return. More than that, John invokes Geralt's desire to protect as much as he knows John can and would protect him in return. Despite how often John remarks that he is merely a human, to Geralt, they have never been anything except on equal footing.
But he has never been with anyone who would lay their soul out so openly. For the first time in a long time, Geralt can't help wondering what he's done to have merited this from John. It's a strange thought to have. He doesn't usually entertain questions of what he deserves. Not in love, not in friendship, not in misfortune. Not for years. Not since he's grown older and, he likes to think, a bit wiser. He takes what good and bad comes to him alike, tries to leave behind what will hinder him, and moves through life with simple acceptance.
Now he's suddenly...here. With a man who sees so much in him, it's a little startling. More so because John is so damn goodhearted. Geralt can't recall a single time when John has spoken an unkind word about anyone. Except, possibly, the once he cursed a belligerent guard before immediately growing embarrassed about it.
With the greatest care, Geralt closes the journal and reties the leather cord around it. Unlike John, he's a man of few words (none, really). So his reply is just this: his hand going up to cup John's cheek before he leans in to kiss him.