[ 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! ))

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[gynvael]

[ His eyebrow lifts. She isn't saying a lot of things, he can tell, and he isn't sure how he feels about her being almost glib. Perhaps it's as he should expect, but they've been more honest with each other lately. Part of him wonders if she's retreated again behind her walls, that maybe she simply can't help herself even with how much they've tried to cross that distance.

A shadow flicker across his face. Of course. The elf. (Since when was he a fucking dragon? He's missed several developments while he'd been stumbling through Thorne's mountains, apparently.) He can't say he's upset about it, on her behalf. It's not entirely that. It runs deeper. A sense that too many of them have forgotten what brought them here in the first place, eager to throw themselves at the nearest opportunity to unleash frustrations or misplaced anger. He is not unsympathetic, but it's not what any of them need right now. This world is built enough on conflict as it is, a hunger for the Singularity that spans the continent.

He says nothing of the second or that he found Castiel and patched him up himself. Castiel was there for reasons at least Geralt can understand. He doesn't anticipate the angel to be a problem. Castiel does not have that temperament.

But he knows who does, and it isn't only Estinien.

Geralt turns to face Yennefer. He rests his palm on her cheek, watching her closely, the earlier teasing falling away. There's warmth in his eyes, but an unmistakable intensity to them, too. When he says what he does, it isn't merely her life that he's referring to. He means her. Her being, the parts of her that are important to him, to herself, that he's all too aware can be so easily lost to the flames the world's jagged edges can stoke in her. ]

Yen. I don't want to lose you. [ Again. It's unspoken, but it's there. ]

[vixening]

[ he's not wrong, there is a lot she isn't saying, but the reasons for it aren't exactly that. it is less she is retreating behind her walls and more that she's still learning what this is supposed to be, what this new space they've made for themselves is supposed to feel like. because she doesn't want to worry him, but she also - herself - doesn't quite see anything in it to worry about. the whole event wasn't supposed to be a violent affair, but it was, and she made due.

but geralt does not rise to meet her tone, and instead she watches the shadow cross his features. watches thoughts upon thoughts pile up behind the expression. for a brief moment, her expression softens into something more curious, her eyes searching the lines of his face. she is still watching him when he turns to face her, when his palm curls around her cheek, so she sees the full force of the intensity of his look. of the worry he has, the weight and fear she understands well. again, her hand lifts to his wrist, for a chance to hold him back, to reassure him of...what? of the things she knows she can't promise? of an unknowable future, of the dangers they both face? the urge to comfort him fills her, but alongside it is her own understanding that she knows what he fears is not out of the question.

yennefer tilts her head forward, pressing her forehead to his. ]

You won't. [ and what's worse is that she believes it. truly, actually, believes it. she watches him closely to make sure he sees her when she says it, to make sure he can believe the words as she says them. it feels almost like a sort of panic welling in her, to be sure that he trusts her when she says it. that he believes she believes it to be the truth. her thumb, idly, brushes along the back of his wrist. ] Not really.

[ not completely. not entirely. not again. ]

[gynvael]

[ When she leans into him, he feels a coil around his heart loosen, unwinding. He breathes out. Is it reassurance he's seeking? He isn't sure. He just knows...there are warnings, words (you didn't want to lose her but you will), he cannot shake. The look in Ciri's eyes when she questioned him. He keeps grasping this thing between them, this thread that is thin but has held firm, and sometimes—mostly when they're apart again, when he's alone and can't sleep and the memories linger—he wonders if he's right to hang onto it so tightly.

But then he comes here, and she peers up at him like that, like she's finally no longer afraid to let herself believe in what they can have, and he thinks: he can let himself believe it, too. It's an inexplicable force, is it not? How easy it is to let yourself believe, when you let it happen at last. How easy it is to sink so deep.

You won't. His gaze lowers, drifting over her face, before returning to her eyes. He can see it, the aching way in which she looks at him, as though she's almost afraid he'll turn her away right here, even after everything. It's enough. He knows, doesn't he? That no matter what, she will not do anything that will jeopardize Ciri, and that includes what might be brewing in Thorne under her influence.

Slowly, he leans in, until his lips brush hers. He believes her. He wants her to know that, and he wants her to know that she can trust him, too, to be here if or when she needs him. That it isn't only for Ciri or the sake of what they're doing that she'll find him ready. ]

[vixening]

[ he is not the only one who is thinking of those words, who hears them just like wind through the tent. you didn't want to lose her, but you will. and she remembers what she said, in response. angry, upset, with tears in her eyes and a sharp pain in her chest. he already has. she remembers the adamance in which she'd said it, remembers how much she'd wanted him to hurt, at the words, just as she'd felt in the moment. in many ways, she wonders if those words will ever leave them. if what she said, if what he did, if what passed between them could ever really go away.

and yet the thread remains. pulled taut, or left loose, sometimes knotted, sometimes free. she'd felt it even that night in sodden, too. felt it even in the dungeons in thorne - almost in spite of the way she'd exploded at him.

it feels a bit like whiplash. having the years behind both of them to compare to, knowing that even just months before she'd felt so different, and yet here - in this tent, in the horizon, with geralt - she doesn't feel like she has any reason to hesitate. doesn't feel like she needs to lean away from how geralt, doesn't feel any pressure to put that space. his eyes are on her and she waits for him to see it.

slowly, he leans in to kiss her, and yennefer's eyes follow him. watch, as his lips brush against her's. watch, as she leans just that much closer to him in return. he knows, doesn't he? that yes, she won't do anything that will put ciri in any sort of harm. that she would do anything for her, and that the decisions she's made have been for her.

but more than that, more than ciri, yennefer wants him to know she is here. here, with him. that what matters to her most in this moment is that he knows it's him he's here for. that she trusts enough to be here, and to let him in, and to come back again. as they pull away, it is yennefer who leans forward the second time. to more firmly press her lips back to his. to finally, finally, let her eyes fall closed and let out a breath. content. comfortable. ]

[gynvael]

[ He knows. When he left her tent that first night—that first night they had in too fucking long—he'd felt the questions settle again in the cold spaces left behind where she had held him. He thinks it must've been the same for her; they've both had their regrets about each other, their doubts. But each time he returns and she's here, still letting him in, he leaves with fewer and fewer questions. He's starting to believe, maybe he can see a time when they'll part with no questions at all.

There are none now while she's kissing him. He cradles her face with both hands, leans into her. Her lipstick is a hint sweet on his tongue. The world outside fades, receding. His thoughts quiet until there's nothing but the way she relaxes into him.

It's what he needs. He's here for her, but he's here for himself, too. To find that place where he isn't pulled under his sleepless nights. Because it's been better, and for the most part only those closest to him can tell he remains altogether not himself, but he's. It's easy still for him to feel unsteady. Except when they're here, together. Funny, when it used to be that she was the reason he was so off balance. Now he's found himself reaching for her to find his center. (Her and Jaskier both.)

He parts to catch his breath. Runs his tongue over his lips, and slowly opens his eyes. There's a small curl of a smile on his face. He's glad, that's all. That despite everything, she's safe. As safe as any of them can be in this damn place. ]

[vixening]

[ it had been a strange night, all things considered. yennefer, going back to the castle, and geralt heading back to his cities. they did not leave on bad terms, despite what drew them together, and that feeling is still lodged somewhere in her ribcage. of a goodbye. of watching him go. of not having to think, for whatever reason, that it might be the last time. she'd thought about it as she returned to the castle, for the nights and days after. it was a strange feeling, but not a bad one. one she'd had even gotten to, herself, back during the dragon hunt.

( it could almost have been hope, maybe. hope, trust, and something very specifically geralt. )

but even that feeling was complicated - worry, uncertainty, experience all trying to curl themselves around it. to find the cracks and spaces and fill them. but it is true - each time they have come back to the place, to this space as real or not as it may be, somehow finds the capacity to build. to fill those spaces. to make it harder for the rest to seep in. the truth of it ( she finds ) is that the more she can be here, the easier it is to keep those uncertainties from slipping through. the more often she is with him, the easier it is for those walls to stay low, if not altogether crumbled away.

yennefer kisses him back with an ease and patience of someone who is, somehow, not worried about where the night might lead. geralt leans into her, cradles her face in his hands, and she feels something close to a smile tug up on her own mouth even as she kisses him back. she likes this feeling, which is the worst part. this slow warmth, this comfortable pace. when he does pull away and opens his eyes, her own momentarily on his lips, his tongue, before meeting his gaze - yennefer's near-smile grows. it's a small, soft thing - something only for geralt, really - and without another moment's thought she pushes up and climbs up into his lap, kicking a knee over his legs and settling on his thighs.

the movement comes without intent, comes without urgency. if anything, she just appears to have wanted to get closer to him (the slight wince of how quickly she pushes herself subtle, barely noticeable, and if he tries to follow it she will cut him off). her hands lay on his chest, her palms picking up his slow heart. just for a moment, before she starts to - almost distractedly - play at the fabric of his shirt. to run her fingers across the textures. ]

I do have information, from my excursion. [ she says, her eyes following her own fingers as they run down the chain of his pendant, across the medallion of the wolf, and finally brushing over the presence of her own. it's not the first time she's done it - if anything, her near subconscious checking of the pendants has become a slight habit during their time together. just to see if it is there, just to make sure, before she moves on - this time, her hands sliding up the front of his chest to his shoulders, around his neck. ] But it's not urgent. [ that is when her smile becomes a little more sharp, her eyes a little darker, her intent clear even as she leans forward and sets another gentle kiss to his lips. ]

[gynvael]

[ He isn't hurried, either. He's still lingering on the kiss when Yen settles into his lap. His arm curls around her, under her, automatically—and her wince only draws a slight furrow between his brows. He wants her close, too. He leans back on the bed: at ease, not seeking anything in particular beyond her touch.

(He has not missed the way she never fails to search for her pendant on his chain. As though she fears one day, she will not find it. Geralt does not reassure her he's no plans of ever removing it—he simply lets her look, lets her find it and feel that reassurance on her own each time. Perhaps some part of him needs the reassurance of her looking, too. That gesture which tells him it remains important to her that he hasn't taken it off. That she wants to know he still has it.

It's good, he thinks, to feel that trust grow between them again.) ]

Mm. Information. Are we conspiring across borders now? [ He's teasing, but there's a novelty to how he says it, too. Neither of them have had borders. Him even less so than her; a Witcher's only border is what town that night will or will not allow him in. Until this place. This world that's forced them behind gates and invisible walls.

But that's a thought for later. For now, he focuses on what's more pressing: the silk that drapes over her body. Geralt reaches behind her and tugs on one of the laces, pulling loose a ribbon holding her bodice together. ]

[wiedzminka]

[ The tent. Yennefer's tent. Ciri is surprised to see it, but not unpleasantly so; it's simply that the tent likes to move, and Yennefer isn't often in the Horizon (and neither is Ciri, not without purpose). But today, she had decided to check in on a few things, leave a note for Julie since she still prefers this to communicating over the strange magic that makes their thoughts come to life before their eyes, and after that, she'd summoned her horse. This is one of her favorite things about the Horizon. She can imagine Kelpie, perfect and beautiful, as real here as she is in Ciri's memory. Sometimes, she just likes coming here to ride.

The mare pulls up short when Ciri bids her stop before the tent, tossing her head impetuously. Ciri pats her neck to soothe her and jumps off, letting Kelpie wander as she wishes. Meanwhile, Ciri decides to surprise Yennefer with a visit. Isn't it auspicious, that they happened to be here at the same time?

The tent flap twitches. Ciri slides a hand through to pull it back, ducking inside with bright eyes and mouth open with a half-formed greeting. ]

Yenne--

[ Nope.

Yennefer's back. Arms around her. A glimpse of white hair past her shoulder. Her thighs straddling Geralt's lap.

Ciri's face goes hot. ]

Oh. You're-- you're busy.

Sorry! Carry on!

[ She begins to back up the way she came, hand still on the canvas of the tent. ]

[gynvael]

[ Ah. Shit.

Geralt releases Yen, eyes snapping to the tent's entrance. On instinct, he starts to do up the laces on the back of her dress in a hasty bow that ends up more of a knot than anything. Right. ]

No. Come in. [ He gently dislodges Yennefer from his lap, if she hasn't already climbed off on her own. ] We were just. Talking.

[ That's technically true. They were talking. The wolf had vanished at some point, but it returns now, slipping back into the tent around Ciri. Geralt clears his throat—shifts his gaze to Yennefer sidelong before they return to Ciri. ]

She has...information. She said. From the Dimming.

[vixening]

[ the truth is, yennefer probably should have felt ciri entering into her domain. should have, probably, noticed when she grew closer, and when yennefer (or her horizon) made the decision to let her tent be found at all. but somehow she's not even all that surprised as she hears her voice through the tent flap. she freezes at the sound of ciri, at the question, at her voice - and then geralt is moving, doing back the same laces he'd just been undoing, and yennefer climbs off of him in that same breath.

she does not laugh, necessarily, but there is something so wildly entertaining about the way geralt nearly stutters around the words. talking. yennefer snorts briefly before stepping back forward into the tent again. way from the bed, away from the warmth that had just been building, and instead to the table. ]

From the Singularity, actually. [ a pitcher of wine appears on the table, along with three goblets. yennefer steps over and pours herself a glass, turning back to the tent with a sidelong look back to geralt, a nearly challenging sort, before her attention is back to ciri. her smile is warm, as she gestures inside, her clothes and hair and look all done back up somewhere over the course of the last few moments. magic in the horizon has no limit, after all. ] But you are more than welcome to stay, Ciri.

[wiedzminka]

[ Ciri lingers near the entrance to the tent, fighting off a smirk. Her brows raise, but she makes no comment.

Just talking? Is that what they're calling it? She huffs a stifled laugh, but decides not to call Geralt out. They seem to have decided they'd rather have her stay, so she'll just... not say anything. They can do whatever they like when she leaves. ]

All right.

[ Ciri approaches the table, pulling up a chair and taking the pitcher to pour for herself as well, and for Geralt if he looks to be interested.

Of course, Ciri is unsurprised that Yennefer had gone to the Singularity; she'd very much expected it. She is glad that it seems Yennefer is in good spirits, though. ]

What did you learn?

1 million years later

[gynvael]

[ He resists the urge to sigh and resigns himself to the circumstances. Is this the consequence of him and Yen finally being on speaking terms again? (He's not complaining. Not truly.)

He leans back against one of Yennefer's dressers while she pours the wine. Like her, he too has access to the limitless magic of the Horizon. Unlike her, he takes no advantage, and where some of his hair has fallen loose, that's where it stays. He folds his arms across his chest.

When Ciri offers him the wine, he takes it, waiting for Yennefer to impart what it is she learned. His eyes linger on Yennefer's bare shoulder for just a moment.

Always a next time, he supposes. ]