[ 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

[cointosser]

And here I thought you were going to say seeing me first thing in the morning. Ugh, Geralt. You have absolutely no tact.

[It was the answer he expects, and yet it's no less disappointing to hear it. Having sleep taken from man is the surest thing to make him go mad. Geralt has never exactly been a deep sleeper, or a long one, yet.

His whole life he's mostly gone through without worrying for Geralt. Now it feels like it spills over at every turn. He's sure, in time, the feeling will lessen. When they... well, fuck, when will it? Are they ever likely to find more surer footing in this world? Shall they let go of the idea they should ever return?

He finds, to his surprise, accepting that does not hurt his heart as much as he'd thought it would.

Jaskier gives him a grandiose smile, moving in to kiss him simply because he feels like it.] Very admirable of you. At least this time you needn't muck about in the bushes for a rabbit. [Raiding Sam's cabinets, he suspects. Oh. His biscuits might still be tucked into a corner where he hid them weeks ago. He'll have to check.] Hopefully Sam will not mind a bit of extra company.

[gynvael]

I see you all times of the day, Jaskier. And you never change.

[ It is not, to Geralt, a bad thing. They have parted, they have come together; the seasons have changed again and again around them. But Jaskier has always been who he is. If things have shifted between them, it's largely on Geralt's part: a quiet cracking open of the doors in his life, until Jaskier found a place in it he'd not meant to grant but which he does not regret. Despite what he once said.

The kiss draws a faint hum out of him. He lets his eyes close again. Jaskier smells like wine and the dirty streets, and he can't say he cares. ] The day that man minds a bit of company will be the day you cease your singing.

[ Geralt thinks he doesn't mind a bit of extra company right now, either. And while he does not exactly roll into Jaskier, nor does he move away if Jaskier winds up closer to him eventually—lets Jaskier push him over or wrap around him or generally make himself as much of a damn nuisance as he wants. ]

[cointosser]

[Jaskier is already making himself at home, which is to say he's pushed Geralt over for enough room, then curved into him. Never shall a bard feel safer than having a Witcher at his back, but never is he more satisfied knowing he's left his mark.]

You're such a bastard.

[Perhaps the most affectionate he's ever spoken to him. Jaskier does eventually throw an arm around him, because he is a nuisance, and he gets cold fingertips and feet, and Geralt's hair is quite warm when he tangles his fingers up in it. There is not a body in the world the bard will not snuggle up to, given the chance, as long as it's warm and willing.

Geralt may not sleep, but at least he'll have company. And a pretty sight to watch.]