[ Only when she bends down, wraps her arms around him, does it occur to him he's been waiting for her to make him feel something, to provoke that part of him that will finally allow himself to feel. To feel more than the weariness, the unsteadiness, that's plagued his days. The blankness that he's been retreating to, even knowing he shouldn't, that he can't hide there forever. She's always been so fucking good at that, has she not? Dragging his walls down. Making the anger and frustration and care and (love) rise inside him: blinding, sharp, all-consuming. Impossible to ignore.
But he has not expected this. The unbearable nakedness in her gaze, the unfettered tenderness of her touch. She's been tender before, and so has he, but not like this. Not without an inch held back. It makes him respond in kind. He lets it happen. Lets it wash over him, lets himself sink into it, into her. She is offering, and he takes it. They've been here before and yet it's different. Different from when they would weave in and out of each other's lives over years, different from when she showed up in his Kaer Morhen uninvited without a past and somehow knowing him, anyway. Different because they have not simply crossed paths. She has come to him and he to her.
For a long while, he doesn't move. He isn't sure how long, isn't sure if she has sat down with him or knelt alongside him or if she is just standing there, holding him. But he stays and he breathes and for the first time, he can. He can breathe, he can afford to unspool a bit of himself.
He does not need her to put him back together. Does not want her to try. He can do it himself, he's been doing it since he was a child, he will do it again and again. It's just that, as difficult as it is to admit, he doesn't want to be without her while he does so. Her or...any who've become important to him. He'll pick up the pieces, move on. He could say it's for Ciri's sake and it'd be the truth only in part. The reality is simpler—is nothing especially meaningful beyond the fact that he knows nothing else except to keep going. It's all he's ever done; it's all he's ever been taught. But it's less...it's better, maybe, when he is not altogether alone. For all that he wishes Yennefer had not tied herself to his memories, hadn't inserted herself into old scars, he knows she had not meant to. (They would not be here if he'd thought she meant any of this to happen.) And it can't be changed now. It means something, perhaps, that she has not hidden behind her guilt or shame or what other reasons she may have thought of pulling on to keep her back turned. ]
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But he has not expected this. The unbearable nakedness in her gaze, the unfettered tenderness of her touch. She's been tender before, and so has he, but not like this. Not without an inch held back. It makes him respond in kind. He lets it happen. Lets it wash over him, lets himself sink into it, into her. She is offering, and he takes it. They've been here before and yet it's different. Different from when they would weave in and out of each other's lives over years, different from when she showed up in his Kaer Morhen uninvited without a past and somehow knowing him, anyway. Different because they have not simply crossed paths. She has come to him and he to her.
For a long while, he doesn't move. He isn't sure how long, isn't sure if she has sat down with him or knelt alongside him or if she is just standing there, holding him. But he stays and he breathes and for the first time, he can. He can breathe, he can afford to unspool a bit of himself.
He does not need her to put him back together. Does not want her to try. He can do it himself, he's been doing it since he was a child, he will do it again and again. It's just that, as difficult as it is to admit, he doesn't want to be without her while he does so. Her or...any who've become important to him. He'll pick up the pieces, move on. He could say it's for Ciri's sake and it'd be the truth only in part. The reality is simpler—is nothing especially meaningful beyond the fact that he knows nothing else except to keep going. It's all he's ever done; it's all he's ever been taught. But it's less...it's better, maybe, when he is not altogether alone. For all that he wishes Yennefer had not tied herself to his memories, hadn't inserted herself into old scars, he knows she had not meant to. (They would not be here if he'd thought she meant any of this to happen.) And it can't be changed now. It means something, perhaps, that she has not hidden behind her guilt or shame or what other reasons she may have thought of pulling on to keep her back turned. ]