[ OPEN / CLOSED ] i think i found a way to kill the sun

[gynvael]

Who: Geralt + Various
When: December
Where: Cadens, Horizon
What: Some catching up now that he's home
Warnings: Discussion of trauma; nsfw marked



(( placing starters in the comments below. find me at discontinued or at Noa#1979 to plot stuff! ))

Comments

[gynvael]

They're not spies if they're useless. [ Look, he's just saying. He sighs. The whole thing keeps giving him a headache. ] I can't wait for one of their soldiers to knock on my door and interrogate me about it.

[ Or he could, but he doubts that'd be pleasant. It'll be unpleasant either way. He's fairly certain word must've come around, or it will eventually, that something happened to him and that something involves Thorne's interest in the Free Cities. Secondary matter or not, he's not interested in sitting around until someone comes to arrest him or investigate him or press him on why he would have kept silent on the situation.

He's already nosed enough around their outpost as it is. (How does he always end up here?)

He looks over. ] No. Someone situated within their court. I didn't get a name.

[cointosser]

[Jaskier hits him, a slap across the chest, as easy and automatic as anything.] Oh, shut it. I don't see you providing surveillance for our... strange, awkward family. Besides, Red is far from useless.

[He wasn't for spying, exactly, but Sam had certainly had no complaints on the utility of the bird.

He drops his arm, looking back.]

Not that I blame you, but it doesn't narrow things down. [Who would be willing to portal someone out of Thorne, especially a prisoner of the queen? Someone assured they would receive no blowback.

It's a lot to take in. Gods knew that Geralt's head must have been spinning, taking it all in. All these hierarchies, the traitors, the possibilities these alliances may mean. And here they had been in Cadens for months, hoping that their escape would not come crawling back to nip at their heels.

A breeze moves through the cemetery, bringing the scent of freshly turned soil, the sweet notes of the blackberries. The dead rose crumbles to nothing as he touches it again, and he ignores the poetic omen it certainly must represent.] I know it does not mean much, hearing it... but I'm sorry. I'm sorry this happened to you. Whatever you need, Geralt, if you can think of a thing. It's yours.

[gynvael]

[ The smack draws a faint wince out of him, light though it is. It's not really Jaskier's fault. All of him is tender at the moment, aching even when he's sitting still. ]

Talk to your mountain king. [ That's the only real answer he has. Kylo communicated with that mage. That much is clear. If anyone knows who and why, it would be him. The question is whether Kylo would be willing to divulge the information. He can see several reasons why the man would be reluctant to share, though he imagines Jaskier can convince someone to cooperate easier than another.

He grows quiet again. He hears what Jaskier is saying. The concern in his friend's voice. And he wants to say he's okay, that he's already well on his way to recovering, but they both know there's more to it than that. This, Jaskier says. He can't tell if Jaskier means Thorne or much further back than that. The Trials. Both, perhaps. His fingers flex. He does not remember clawing the floor, but there are stark signs of it on his hands, his nails. It feels like all of him reveals too much without his having to say a fucking word. ]

Ciri told me she'd have not managed without you. [ He glances over. Not in those words, but he understands her well enough to hear the sentiment. Jaskier's done a lot, but more than anything, Geralt is grateful for Jaskier remaining by Ciri's side while he couldn't be there. And if there's one thing he still needs— ] I'm staying with Sam. For now. [ Until he can...pull more of himself together. Until he isn't just barely aware of the time passing, until he feels less raw all over. ] If you'll stay with her some more.

[cointosser]

[Oh. Oops. Jaskier removes his hand before he can, apparently, instill any more pain onto the Witcher. It's rare he's seen him so sore, yet still not the first time.

He huffs.] Oh, you can bet your horse I will. I want an explanation.

[And, perhaps, to thank him. Though he knows Kylo Ren is far from the most sentimental man he's ever met, and he will most likely not appreciate it. Clearly getting Geralt out of that dungeon was not out of some hidden love in his heart.

Jaskier turns away with a laugh, sweeping dirt off his trousers.] I know for a fact she did not say that. [Perhaps something like, oh, Jaskier was a light in the darkness while we searched for you. No. Too poetic. More like what he wishes would be said about him. Maybe He made a lot of bread and it was all right.

Yes. There. Fitting.

He jerks his gaze back over.] With Sam? [Sam, who had indicated that something strange had come between them? Apparently not, now, that lives had been threatened in the meantime. He almost questions the choice, but... well, their home is no longer the quiet echoing the two of them alone on the road. Or even the three of them. Which is mostly Jaskier's fault, but he is not willing to even persuade Rinwell or Hector to look elsewhere. Not when they need the place just as much.

After a moment, he nods. Right. He gets it. At least in Sam's place, there is quiet respite. And Sam... Sam could use the company, too. Now that the others are gone. Now that Alina was the last to leave.]

I'm not going anywhere. [He never intended to.] Though you know as well as I that she does not need anyone looking after her.

[Though he liked to think they had helped each other, the last month. Grown closer, certainly. Jaskier believes he does understand her quite a bit more. Now he's watched her burn people as Geralt has done.

Fascinating, how those things pass on.

There is nothing that prompts Jaskier's movement other than his own heart. He rises to his feet with Geralt, the blackberry bushes shifting behind them, and he pulls him into a hug. Tight, tight enough it's clear he means to hold him for a moment, for two. The strength of Geralt's body against his a solid reminder he is here. Home. Or, at least, Jaskier's home now. He can't imagine Geralt thinks of anything other than Kaer Morhen for that.

I missed you. He had. But he swallows his sentimentality, lest the Witcher roll his eyes at the barrage of it.] Stay in touch. That's all I ask.

[gynvael]

[ She had, in fact, phrased it as He menaced me with bread and encouragement, so Jaskier isn't far off. He can tell Ciri is fond of the bard, warmed to him, and he's glad to see it.

Jaskier's surprise is met with not more than a look. He knows what Jaskier is thinking. Jaskier is hardly oblivious, has undoubtedly noticed something has been amiss between him and Sam before. Geralt's never gotten into it and he doesn't now. It isn't important. Not anymore. Sam came to his aid despite it all, and Geralt, in that moment, had not questioned whether Sam would or not. And he's come to realize there are few he can ever rely upon like that, here or home or anywhere. Besides, he can't remember when someone last had recoiled from him, and then come back to apologize for it. It's worth something to him.

So he will stay with Sam. Sam knows not to push him; he'll get the space he needs there. In return, Sam can have a home that isn't so empty. ]

Doesn't mean she can't use someone there. [ No. Ciri can take care of herself. She's likely been on her own, alone, plenty of times. But he thinks, she shouldn't have to. More than that, he thinks Jaskier could use the same. Someone there.

Because Geralt is not. Not as well as he should be. He wants to, he does, but he's been scattered, still can't focus well enough to enter the Horizon, still can't close his eyes for long. He just. Needs time. He's been trying to be patient with it, with himself. As much as he can be.

He steadies himself on the headstone as he rises to his feet. The fresh air's done him good, but he's beginning to tire. When he catches Jaskier reaching for him, he doesn't resist. There's a soft grunt as he's pulled in close and he finds himself holding his friend in turn. He breathes out, lets a part of him unwind a hint. He wants to say, I'm down the road, idiot; it's not as though Sam is far. But he gets that's not what Jaskier means, that Geralt more than has a habit of withdrawing no matter the physical distance.

He can't deny the urge is there. It always is. He also knows he can't do that to Ciri. So. ] I'll be here.

[cointosser]

[Ugh, he knows what that means. That Geralt quite clearly can see that Jaskier is the last who should be alone, either. Yes, well. Ciri kept him sane, too, even if it was with far less bread and more blood and monster bits all over his kneading table.

He gives him a last squeeze and, because he's a little shit, a kiss on the cheek.]

It's good having you around once more. [Ah, damn sentimentality. It leaks out despite. As he pulls away, there's a smile on his face. Moreso than he'd managed during their conversation. It's still a lot -- far too much, if you ask him -- but they will take it a step at a time. As he forced himself to learn while Geralt was gone. A day, a moment at a time.]

Come. I'll walk you home, and not a step farther. [He imitates Geralt's voice with a bit of a flourish. He only notes Geralt's slow movements, but makes no commentary on them.] And if you ignore my messages again, I'll kill you myself. In the most obnoxious way possible.

[gynvael]

[ A quiet huff escapes him. Yeah. It is good to be around again. Good to have people he can rely on nearby, good to finally be in a place where he can start to heal without the stops and starts he was dealing with before, wounds that would start to close only to tear open or for new ones to appear.

He will not admit the deep seated fear that followed him those weeks—not of death, but of earning an injury severe enough he'd not recover from it. One that would leave him unable to really protect anyone at all. It is, he supposes, every Witcher's fear. Whether they speak of it or not. ]

Fuck off, Jaskier. [ There's no heat behind the words. He falls into step beside the bard, chooses not to point out he didn't ignore any messages. He simply never allowed himself to receive them in the first place. Semantics, he's aware. And not the point. He'd done what he had to. He's just glad they were safe, Jaskier and Ciri both.

He lets Jaskier walk him back to Sam's. If a bit of hovering is what Jaskier needs after all this shit, he can allow for it. His side aches worse by the time they reach the door, and he feels every heavy movement as he drags himself up the stairs—but he can't say the walk wasn't time worth spending. ]