[Either it'll do something or do nothing, so at least there's no fear of poisoning the Witcher. It was about the only thing he could think of to get Geralt during all of... this. The more the days pass, the more Jaskier realizes why he cannot get rid of this grip over his heart, that leaves his muscles bundled tight and his sleep restless.
Geralt is definitely here. He's safe. Healing. He's taken care of, and they have confirmed the friends they can rely on outside of Cadens. And yet, all of that means nothing, really. When it could happen again. They had nothing to stop the mages that had taken Geralt, and he imagines that will not change. There are unstoppable forces that move them all -- the sweep of an army, perhaps the grip of a djinn, or Destiny herself. It's only that Geralt has always been able to protect himself from men. Jaskier has also relied on him to keep both of them safe.
Ugh. He'd never used to worry about these things. He never worried at all! If he sees Yennefer again, he knows her first comment will be of the new wrinkles he's sprouted.
He leads the way to the cemetery, uncharacteristically quiet himself. He does not fill the silence with idle chatter, having nothing to really say. The state he's lived in for the past weeks is nothing to talk about. This one thing -- like his bread -- is the only note of pride he can find.
As they approach the outer walls of the cemetery, he finally speaks up.] Hopefully Alucard isn't about; he's been far pricklier lately. Though I suspect he's a wolf more than not.
[He stops Geralt by the first wall. Just inside is a long line of blackberry bushes, thick and swollen with berries, with an organized chaos to their long tangles of thorns.] So? What do you think? It's not the nicest, of course, but they're just berries. I thought I'd let them grow rather free.
no subject
[Either it'll do something or do nothing, so at least there's no fear of poisoning the Witcher. It was about the only thing he could think of to get Geralt during all of... this. The more the days pass, the more Jaskier realizes why he cannot get rid of this grip over his heart, that leaves his muscles bundled tight and his sleep restless.
Geralt is definitely here. He's safe. Healing. He's taken care of, and they have confirmed the friends they can rely on outside of Cadens. And yet, all of that means nothing, really. When it could happen again. They had nothing to stop the mages that had taken Geralt, and he imagines that will not change. There are unstoppable forces that move them all -- the sweep of an army, perhaps the grip of a djinn, or Destiny herself. It's only that Geralt has always been able to protect himself from men. Jaskier has also relied on him to keep both of them safe.
Ugh. He'd never used to worry about these things. He never worried at all! If he sees Yennefer again, he knows her first comment will be of the new wrinkles he's sprouted.
He leads the way to the cemetery, uncharacteristically quiet himself. He does not fill the silence with idle chatter, having nothing to really say. The state he's lived in for the past weeks is nothing to talk about. This one thing -- like his bread -- is the only note of pride he can find.
As they approach the outer walls of the cemetery, he finally speaks up.] Hopefully Alucard isn't about; he's been far pricklier lately. Though I suspect he's a wolf more than not.
[He stops Geralt by the first wall. Just inside is a long line of blackberry bushes, thick and swollen with berries, with an organized chaos to their long tangles of thorns.] So? What do you think? It's not the nicest, of course, but they're just berries. I thought I'd let them grow rather free.