abraxaslogs | [ CLOSED ] hands like skeleton bones

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[ CLOSED ] hands like skeleton bones

Who: Geralt + the Queen, Yennefer, Various
When: After Nov. 12
Where: Castle Thorne, Nott, Cadens
What: Geralt goes on an Adventure and has a great time
Warnings: Blood, violence, trauma

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[ for all the distance in geralt’s eyes, he does respond. does seem present, which is a good place to be, gives sam some assurance. even if geralt is obviously in pain, if he’s aware and talking, that can be of help. ]

Good. What else should we be focusing on? [ the words are firm, direct - like sam would have spoken to a fellow soldier, out on the field. they both know resources are low, just like they both know geralt will ignore quite of a few of these injuries. but sam doesn’t want to waste time - and if geralt wasn’t fighting the fact he was here, that meant some part of him was okay being here. wanted the help. and while sam and jaskier could waste a lot of time working on things that looked bad, if geralt was up and conscious, it could save them a lot of time.

geralt mentions stitches, and jaskier is there beside him - asking how, looking over the remnants left behind, and sam stills. he’s been taken care of, these stitches are well done, and while some have broken up and some of these wounds have been ripped back apart, geralt had been helped. stitched how? sam’s eyes are already following the lines, the breaks, the threads. he’ll need to clean it, need to pull out what was left of what geralt broke. his stomach steeled over a bit knowing what he’d need to do, nodding at jaskier’s direction. ]

I can help- with your healing. It won’t be a huge boost, but. It can be something. [ his eyes go from geralt, to jaskier, before away again - the question pulling a kind of look from him, a shake of his head, a feeling of guilt bubbling up in his throat. ] Just that one. But if we can get this settled- [ there’s a healer not far from here, sam can go- no. he can’t go buy a potion, or even services. not after alina cleaned him out. sam’s eyes scan back over geralt’s back, as jaskier starts peeling away fabric, rubbing at the dried blood around the edges. sam’s eyes go to geralt’s face, as if there might be something else there he needs to notice, before he takes another rag himself to help jaskier clean the wound. ]

Once it’s clean I’ll redo the stitches. [ because he can do that, at least. can do something. the lashes through his skin and muscle have started to heal, started to piece themselves back together, but they’re not quite there yet. ] And then you can heal the rest? As long as we’re not missing something. [ the last part is directed at geralt, a kind of look sent his way. speak now before sam dives back in with his own rag, washing away the dried blood. ]

[ "Stitched it how?" Geralt doesn't grasp what Jaskier means, and in the end, he doesn't ask. He can't take a look at his back himself, but it feels like it's just the largest of the wounds that's ripped. If any of the others have, they must be minor—or he simply can't feel it in the midst of everything else his body is protesting. ]

Nothing's internal. [ Nadine had sought the same, and his answer has not changed: if it has not felled him by now, then it will heal on its own, same as ever. And frankly, the day something internal needs critical attention, that's not a day he wants to see. He takes a moment to consider Sam's question; Sam is not wrong, in that Geralt responds to the directness more easily. Gives him something for his brain to focus on instead of trying to sort out all the extra words he doesn't need to hear. ] My knee. Heal that.

[ He'll take healing magic on that, if he has to choose one. It's a new injury, unlike his ribs, one he hasn't got a chance assess, and he. Prefers his knee intact. He needs it to walk. Something tells him the joint has merely been overworked, or he twisted it harder than he realized all the times he stumbled and nearly fell on his way to Nott.

What else? ] Supplies. In my bag.

[ Nadine's, but his own, too. Jaskier would understand, so he doesn't clarify. Jaskier has travelled alongside him, knows what he keeps on his horse at all times. ]

Edited 2021-12-05 00:41 (UTC)

[He looks up at Sam in confusion more than surprise. Help? No. It doesn't matter. He nods after only a moment of pause. Help is the one thing he is more than willing to take without further explanation. ] All right.

[He turns back to Geralt and rolls his sleeves up, getting them out of the way. The flash of his scar is a hot, curling ping of guilt he cannot afford -- the reminder that, if he had not been so particularly insistent he help Ciri, that there would be a potion for. This. All of this.

A knee is neither a fatal wound nor near as bad as his back, from what Jaskier can see, but he needn't argue. It's not a hard guess why a Witcher would favor it over scars across his back.]

Right. One second. [Supplies is all he needs. This song and dance is ingrained in him now. He leaves to recover the bag from Roach, his heart somehow turning steadier in his chest. Work. Work, that's real and physical and Geralt is here, that's fucking enough. Ciri is going to kill him later for doing this without her, but he will simply bear it.

There's a variety of medicines, bottles he can only assume are some sort of potions. Nadine and Julie had set him up for success, by the looks of things. (Nadine and Julie may very well end up killing he and Geralt both. Lovely.) And the bottles Geralt had bought for himself, when it was only just a hunt.

He uncorks a bottle.] Here then, tip your head up. For the pain, I assume.

[He doesn't have time for a declination. He only helps prop Geralt up enough to have him swallow the potion, then ease him back down.

Knee. Right. Jaskier kneels beside him, licking his lips. His magic is a great deal different than it'd been months ago, healing Geralt's leg. Perhaps it would be better now. Or worse.

A knee. He can fix that. He wraps both hands around said knee, both round the front and back, feeling it out. Swollen, for sure. He pulls his magic, staring hard at the body before him.

Hah. Now he's the only focusing on staying conscious. Great.]

Edited 2021-12-06 04:48 (UTC)

[ geralt catches on, which is good, sam is already taking the information and using it for the overall strategy. nothing internal, which is good, it means jaskier can focus on the more complicated parts of the wounds.it gives them a little more time, too, doesn't mean they need to rush to anything before geralt fully bleeds out. sam is already in the process of washing his hands, of wiping off as much of the blood from geralt's back as he can. honestly, he and jaskier work well together - making quick work of geralt's shirt and clothes, cleaning the larger gashes on the back, getting it so sam can at least see the stitching along the tissue of the skin.

it's intense, and if sam wasn't already in fix-it mode, it would probably flip his stomach a little more than it has. but for now, he doesn't have a lot of time to get sick over the skin and muscle and blood, and instead finds whatever utensil will best work as tweezers, needing something thin and sharp to work out the broken stitches before he can actually start on working them back together.

jaskier is moving - hopefully to get whatever supplies there are supposed to be, whatever geralt means when he says that, and sam leaves it to him - trusts jaskier to know, to make it work, and lets himself focus on the stitches themselves. ]

This is going to hurt a bit- [ is all the warning geralt is going to get, before sam starts at the threads - having to free all the broken ones, pulling back out from their patterns, before sam can even start on sewing him back together. it's not clean, and sam could probably be moving a bit more carefully, but the amount of blood is starting to worry him and he figures geralt would rather be done with this than worry about how small his scars will be.

he manages to just finish up with the last of the broken stitches when he catches jaskier moving, getting his hands around geralt's knee, and without thinking sam is reaching out to set a hand on the small of jaskier's back, letting this new magic he'd barely had enough time to practice flow out of him with as much intent as he can manage. he doubts it will do much, but something to help jaskier's healing is better than nothing, before he's pulling away to get back to his work, to the stitches, to the couple of places he needs to fix up. ]

Anywhere else? [ he asks, partially to test geralt's consciousness, and partially to see if there's anything else they should be worried about, as sam starts to tie off the thread and heat the needle. that little voice in the back of his head screams about germs, about infection, but sam's been getting better at ignoring those voices and just getting it done - his one hand set along the edges of the worst of the lashes, calming magic seeping out into geralt's skin in a desperate, almost attempt at a kind of balm. ] You've got a broken rib too, right?

[ Most of the vials in Nadine's bag will be empty—he burned through them getting himself across the desert; none of them had anticipated he would have landed entire days outside the city gates—but there's one left, alongside the rest of his own supplies on Roach. He lifts up on one arm with Jaskier's help, tries not to hiss, and tips the entire contents of a vial down his throat. What's left in the bag are oils and ointments, ones he's either bought from the apothecary or made from Jaskier's plants.

His fingers dig into a cushion as Sam starts to pull the sutures free. They might not have torn all the way down—he can't quite tell—but they do all need to come out, broken or not, for Sam to sew the gash back up. Jaskier leaving to retrieve his things gives him a little room, to not be so boxed in between two people reaching for him. It's taking real effort not to push either Sam or Jaskier away. He knows they're only doing what needs to be done, he's just—there's been a lot. Happening. A lot he's shoved beneath the surface. And he's almost never tended to by more than one healer at a time. The extra set of hands on him reminds him of something else, of mages holding him down in dark locked rooms. Jaskier's magic is warm, heated against his skin like the tendrils that once curled around him.

His chest tightens. He inhales, Jaskier's familiar scent grounding him some, and he manages not to shove his friend off. Sam's question goes unheard, unnoticed, but he does feel Sam's hand on his back. The tension that releases inside him is subtle, quiet. He doesn't fight it, just works on remembering how to breathe steady, on trying not to tip off the couch. When he closes his eyes, to take a minute to gather himself, they don't open again. ]

[Jaskier starts a bit at the touch of Sam's hand; not because it's him or because it's a touch, but because there is the slightest reaction -- a bit like a snap of air when he touches the wrong sort of cloth, the way things can make that slight bite. And as he lets his magic wrap around Geralt's knee, sinking into his skin, guided only be intent, he feels it. This must be Sam's influence. His magic is a trickle from a faucet, then a blurble; then there is a small pop and it's as if the magic runs thicker, easier. It flows.

His head snaps up.] A broken what? Geralt --

[He catches Geralt's weight as it sags, pushing him back deeper on the couch. Jaskier curses under his breath, the words sharp.] Does he not know what the fuck internal means? [He's still muttering as he jerks the bag towards him, going through the bottles. Uncorking, sniffing. He picks one out of the rest and offers it to Sam, wiping his brow with a wrist.]

Here. This one is for pain, I think. Though he's left us now. [It's rare that he sees the Witcher unconscious, but. There's nothing that can stop their work now, the tension that'd left his shoulders like knots now gone.] You said a rib? Which rib?

[ and there he goes. sam pulls his hand gently back away from geralt's back, realizing a moment too late exactly what it is he did and finding he doesn't, really, regret it. he'd meant to use the magic, yes, but hadn't realized to what extent it would be needed. geralt slumps, passing out where he'd been keeping himself up, and sam immediately is shifting to help pull him back to the couch - assisting jaskier where he pushes. ]

I think he took as it as dangerously internal. Broken ribs won't kill you, unless they puncture a lung. But they hurt like a bitch. [ sam says it in a calming, almost instructory manner. he doesn't mean to sound like he's assuming jaskier has never had a broken rib before, but his training kicks in and he goes with it anyway, turning his attention back to the mess of geralt's back.

when the open bottle is offered to him, sam looks up - one brow lifted, curious, before seeing the bottle and seeing jaskier offering it to him and, without even a second thought, he takes it. pours it along the worst of the gash - assuming how he's supposed to use it, what it's supposed to do. ] And it helps, even if he's out. Bodies remember pain better than brains do, sometimes. [ now sam just seems to be prattling, talking about easy, simple training tidbits as his hands move about his supplies, while he gets the rest of the sutures out and threads a new needle, settles his stomach and his breathing before he starts to stitch him back up again. it's with both his hands holding the two sides of geralt's back together that jaskier asks about the rib, and sam looks up briefly to him. just a glance. ]

What? [ broken rib...oh. right. sam gestures the best he can, pointing with his elbow to whatever side geralt had been keeping too much weight off of. ] There, down near the bottom, I think. Might be more than one. It's hard to tell when there's so much going on. [ he means geralt's wounds, the damage he's taken. he glances over to jaskier just to check to make sure he's alright - one lifted brow, a silent you good? - before he goes back to the stitches. ]

[Pushing the dead with of Geralt is enough. Enough. And then it's too much, holding him up so he doesn't slide to the floor. Ribs. How many ribs? He tries to think back to his anatomy lessons, but his head is clouded and, in frustration, he can't find the memory.

It's not Sam's fault.]

I know what he took it as! [Jaskier snaps, his brows hard, and he loosk away from Sam as his teeth grit. He knows exactly how fucking stupid Geralt is, how literal he can be, how he weighs and balances his wounds as if not every single one of them matters.

He would wilt under hearing his own tone turn so bitter in this moment if it wasn't possibly the only thing keeping him conscious right now. He glances back to Sam, hearing what he's saying. It's. Important. He pushes the search for the memory back and simply listens. As if the professor has started speaking, and it's time to take notes.

He looks back to Geralt.]

Sorry. [He moves his hand to the side of Geralt's body Sam indicated, running it gently over his skin to feel for... something. An angle that is incorrect, a pooling of blood. Blood. There's so much of it, stinking up his nostrils. Sour and cold. (Geralt isn't cold. He's still warm. Still here.)

He finds a place near his waist. There.] I'll try to fix them. Just... please, keep talking. If you can. It sounds like you know what you're talking about.

[For once, Jaskier is the one who needs to listen. To be distracted.

No. No. He's far from good right now, but he's here regardless.]

[ ah, there it is. sam isn't surprised by the snap in jaskier's tone. barely so much as reacts to it, as the other turns his attention to geralt's sagging weight. if sam wasn't mid-stitch, needle and thread already tugging together the pieces of geralt's back, he would be more of a help to push the weight away. to get geralt settled, fully, on the couch itself.

as it stands, though, sam just keeps his focus together. let's jaskier feel for the rib itself, let's jaskier heal, and he does his work as he can. after another moment, as jaskier mutters sorry and asks sam to keep talking and sam pauses in his work, glances over to the other man. ]

Hey. [ he says it to get jaskier's attention, his tone calm, somehow lighter than anything that's been said so far. there's no telling if it's sam's magic, having evolved to a point that it emits off him in the air, or just him that's bringing a stillness to the air, a calming, as he waits for jaskier to catch his eyes. ] He's okay. [ because that feels important, even if jaskier knows it already. ] And you're okay. We've got this. [ sam offers a small smile, then - reassuring, without being dismissive. there's a small amount of guilt there, too, knowing that he's part of the weight that jaskier's been carrying this whole time. but right now, they have to get through this - they have to fix geralt up and get him resting and then, probably, drag jaskier to bed as well if that exhaustion is anything to go by.

sam turns back to his work, then. he'll be done soon, he knows, so it's not hard to slip into jaskier's ask. ] Bodies are kind of crazy, though, in that way. I know you know it too, but I have no clue what the differences are between what y'all have going back home and how we've got it back home for me, but- [ and now it's his turn to fill space - easing into unnecessary conversations and stories - weird tidbits that happened to him, funny things that happened to friends, how he broke his arm falling from a tree when he was eight but didn't know it was broken until three days later because he was such a stubborn kid - light, easy things. he doesn't wait for jaskier to interject though there is of course plenty of places to, and he does what he can to distract.

it's a bit of time, later, before he's done - tying off the last of the stitching and running a washcloth over the skin and blood. the room stinks of it, of sweat and focus and so much blood - but sam swallows it all back. rubs his forehead with the back of his hand and moves to stand, his attention turning fully now to jaskier. ] I think we can let him sleep the rest of it off- unless you saw anything else?

[Jaskier's eyes only move to him long enough to acknowledge his insistence, then away. He has more things to do than be reassured by Sam, even if his efforts do not go unappreciated. Geralt is fine because he's alive; he is, by definition, anything but that. Nevertheless, Jaskier doesn't argue. There is no merit in telling Sam that it isn't entirely the wounds he's thinking of.

He focuses on the magic, the now-familiar pull and shift of it. The reality of skin and bone that shift and move under his direction alone, simply because he offers his energy to it. It is the very opposite of its moniker of chaos, the dutiful way it goes about repairing what Jaskier can deal with. A chaos he is not meant to wield, and yet. The chaos which calms his heart against its will.

Chaos and broken arms and Sam's soft fondness for his friends. Jaskier doesn't interrupt, his brows remaining furrowed with concentration, throat too tight for words. Underneath all their efforts, Geralt changes from a mass of blood and bones into something more man-shaped, with less open flesh and disjointed corners. He waves only once, when a blackness sucks at the hold his mind has on consciousness... but Jaskier brushes it aside, sitting back with blood on his hands when Sam announces the end.

He shakes his head.] No. I've given him what I can. What I know how to.

[He lays back against the floor. Oh, yep. He might pass out right here, actually.]

[ honestly, jaskier is probably a lot more correct than sam's attempts at platitudes. and he'd know better than sam especially where it involved being okay where geralt is concerned. part of sam knows he should be taking jaskier's lead, on this, too. that maybe they should be more worried. that maybe this is bigger than he thinks.

but in the same breath, sam can't help the surge of hope that has filled him since they got geralt inside. maybe there's something inherently selfish in that, inherently prideful - thinking that everything is fine, everything will be okay, just because he at least knows where he is and can do something. but that's always been sam's problem, hasn't it? thinking that as long as he's got his hands on something, it can be fixed. ]

Okay. [ sam says, letting his eyes turn back to geralt's sleeping frame. ] Okay- so we just let him rest, and- oh, no, nope, not here, come on. [ as he notices the way jaskier all but falls back against the ground, collapsing, even, and sam is immediately there - swooping in and ducking under jaskier's arm, getting his own around jaskier's waist. he takes most, if not all, of jaskier's weight as he does it - whether or not jaskier needs the help. ]

There is a perfectly good bed and I swear to god if you both sleep out here I will lose my mind. If he's not going to take it, you are. Come on.

[ sam will carry jaskier the whole way if he has to, but jaskier is not sleeping on his floor. ]

[Jaskier waves a limp hand at his complaints.] Here's fine. Promise.

[Look, he might be an uptight, tight-assed little bard, but he's very used to sleeping on all matter of surfaces, thank you, sometimes with real rocks and sticks and bees nesting in his hair. (An unfortunate side effect of some rather potent oil he crafted for his hair in the past.)

He snorts, and he is so very far from attempting to fight it. Perhaps if he'd been taking care of himself for the last few weeks, if he hadn't a weakened arm, a ride for an hour carrying the bulk of the injured Witcher would've been nothing. Or it could simply be the Chaos deciding that his lifeforce is particularly scrumptious; Ciri's certainly had no complaints when her magic erupted across his arm.]

Then carry me. I'm not helping you. [To be fair, not because he doesn't want to. He rests his head on Sam's very comfortable and sexy pectoral now that it's been offered -- well, he imagines it's sexy, it's a shame he's never seen it.

Oh, no. He's going loopy. That's often a bad sign for Jaskier, in particular.] You know, at least you don't have to worry about my death on your hands this time. A nappy nap and I'll be right as... [He loses the word for a moment.] Rain? Is rain really right? We're in a desert, after all.

Here is not fine.

[ sam feels a kind of surge of - not annoyance, necessarily, but a sort of fierce protectiveness. he knows jaskier hasn't been taking care of himself, hasn't been since sam's own breakdown, probably wasn't before that too. and maybe there will be a conversation in their future but for now sam will be content with getting jaskier into a bed so he can pass out.

then carry me he says, and sam grunts only once before bending his knees and getting his arms under jaskier - bridal style. ]

You're lucky you're cute. [ he says with a kind of laugh, despite jaskier's kind of loopy petulance, and just. carries him on into the bedroom. the room itself is clean - had been cleaned as soon as jaskier had left to go off to his own apartment. still, jaskier will know the bed well and when sam sets him on it, it's with a careful gentleness jaskier would also know pretty well at this point. so sam lets him prattle and sets him on the bed and pushes his hair back off his forehead, mostly to check if he has a fever on top of it all. ]

It's a saying, I don't think it has to make a lot of actual sense. [ he gets jaskier's attention, just for a moment, smiling softly. ] You need anything? Water? Or you just going to pass out now that you're in bed?

[His smile indicates he knows exactly how true that is.] I'm adorable.

[He offers no help, as promised, but he simply has nothing in him left to give. Sam can dump him in a hole for all he cares (though the bed is much preferable.) A bed he's already well acquainted with, even. Luckily he doesn't feel likes he's dying. Simply like he could sleep all day.

He does not intend to. Only enough to recharge, and then he has to... check on Geralt. But at least he can trust Sam that, if anything should happen, he's here. Ready to be woken up.] No. Sleep's fine. Gods, Sam, if you keep taking care of everyone --

[He pauses, fluffing the pillow behind him. Well. He knows what happens when Sam stretches himself too far. He doesn't mean to remind him.] Just take care of yourself, for now. Until I'm awake again.

Uh-huh.

[ he's very specifically not arguing with him. very specifically. but a smile does break out across his face as he waits for jaskier to get comfortable on the bed. sam knows where everything is by this point, how all of this comes to play - the pillow here, the glass of water there, extra blanket tucked just within reach.

there should probably be something wrong with how easily they both fall into step here - and sam might make some comments about how often he's going to end up leaning over jaskier's bed while they're both still clothed. but for now, he's more worried about jaskier, more worried about helping him adjust whatever pillow he's trying to fluff behind him. ]

Hey- we work in shifts, right? You had me, now I've got you. [ sam flashes a smile, making sure that jaskier is settled before finding his eyes. making sure that jaskier can see the fact he is actually...very honest with his next words. ] Sleep. I've got this. And when you're better, you can take over. Deal? [ and then, before jaskier can answer, sam will lean forward and press a kiss to his forehead. ] Everything will be fine- I'll be in the next room.

[Jaskier is very aware that when someone doesn't immediately refute something he's said, they agree. And of course Sam thinks he's adorable; the man's carrying him to a bed like it's their wedding night.]

Yes, yes. I'll be sure to take very good care of you, and that snoring beast out there. [He says as he's already pulling blankets up around his shoulder, curling up on his side. His vision swims in that comforting pull towards sleep. Geralt will be all right. They'll all be all right.

He stills, opening an eye. He means to say, I'm not a child, Sam as if he needs a reminder. But, to be honest... it's very sweet. It's very Sam. If anyone else did this, it would be completely incomprehensible.

He pulls the blanket over his head with a sigh.] Get out of here already, or I'll never go to sleep with your eyes on me.

[ yes but jaskier doesn’t seem to be complaining about sam carrying him around his house, even in all of his grungy, dirty, sweat soaked clothes. sam wonders if he should have maybe forced jaskier into a bath, first, but figures it’s too late now. ]

You always do. [ take good care, watch over them. sam hesitates for a moment, because he wonders if there is more he should say to really get the point across - that he is here, for jaskier too, that he’s allowed to relax - but jaskier pulls the blanket over his head and sam laughs lightly. ]

Good night.

[ and then sam’s back out there, to check on geralt. to intercept ciri, when she shows up. just another day. ]

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[ CLOSED ] hands like skeleton bones

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