[ If words are being spoken, he isn't listening. He knows he should, that maybe there's something important he might snatch out of their snippets of conversation, the language of their magic, but he just. Can't. He's not even looking at Yennefer. It's his turn to pretend as though she's not there—a distraction he doesn't want or need.
He's so fucked.
The amount of magic is stifling. It's hard to brace himself when he's no idea what's coming, what they really want. The tendrils burn where they curl around him, slipping under against his bare skin. For a second, he's gripped with the thought that it will meld into him altogether, some sort of monstrosity. Because that's exactly what he needs right now.
Instead, his flesh rips: abrupt, sharp, and not with a blade or a claw. It splits, like a fissure. He almost doesn't realize he's been struck with something else; there's just a hot lance across his back that leaves his ears ringing and tears a noise from his throat. ]
swapping order for yen & geralt
He's so fucked.
The amount of magic is stifling. It's hard to brace himself when he's no idea what's coming, what they really want. The tendrils burn where they curl around him, slipping under against his bare skin. For a second, he's gripped with the thought that it will meld into him altogether, some sort of monstrosity. Because that's exactly what he needs right now.
Instead, his flesh rips: abrupt, sharp, and not with a blade or a claw. It splits, like a fissure. He almost doesn't realize he's been struck with something else; there's just a hot lance across his back that leaves his ears ringing and tears a noise from his throat. ]