[Jaskier is at the point where he very solidly wishes everything could stop happening so much.
He leans his head on her shoulder, the world spinning. The smell of blood is thick, and the more sour note of death. They've made an absolute fucking mess of Geralt's camp. At least, with his sword, there's no further proof needed it was his.
They sit there for a moment, and unfortunately Ciri has to wait for him to catch his breath, to re-catch his thoughts. He's firing off messages and waiting, waiting. Waiting for nothing.
He covers his eyes with his hands. Can he not see them? But no. There's nothing there. The words being to disintegrate until he can't even be sure he saw them at all.
But he did. He fucking did. That was Geralt. It had to be -- no one had figured out a way to fake that. Right?
Maybe he should lie, but he can't. He won't. Not to Ciri.]
Do not let her come after me. [He drops his hands, staring at her face. There's blood on her cheek.] I sent more. I sent more, and he won't fucking answer them.
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He leans his head on her shoulder, the world spinning. The smell of blood is thick, and the more sour note of death. They've made an absolute fucking mess of Geralt's camp. At least, with his sword, there's no further proof needed it was his.
They sit there for a moment, and unfortunately Ciri has to wait for him to catch his breath, to re-catch his thoughts. He's firing off messages and waiting, waiting. Waiting for nothing.
He covers his eyes with his hands. Can he not see them? But no. There's nothing there. The words being to disintegrate until he can't even be sure he saw them at all.
But he did. He fucking did. That was Geralt. It had to be -- no one had figured out a way to fake that. Right?
Maybe he should lie, but he can't. He won't. Not to Ciri.]
Do not let her come after me. [He drops his hands, staring at her face. There's blood on her cheek.] I sent more. I sent more, and he won't fucking answer them.