[ geralt's eyes narrow to her, and yennefer...it's not that she lets him, necessarily, but she forces herself to accept it. there's a part of her, because there is always a part of her, that wants to push back. that wants to fight that angry, cold, dangerous look in his eyes. she is no stranger to these looks, just as she is no stranger to angry words or broken hearts. she is no stranger to life, and all of its ugliness, and she knows this is no different.
( no matter whatever part of her might have wanted it to be different. no matter how much of her might have even started to hope. she knows better and has known better, and perhaps that is the heart of her stillness, now. )
perhaps it is a testament to how much she does know him, that she can see the stubbornness in his eyes. the anger, the bitterness. it is all rightfully turned to her, and she does not turn away from it, here. but for all that she wishes to hold onto that stillness, he does pull at her strings, just as he's always done. pull at her defensiveness, pulled some energy from her, despite the dark, hollow emptiness that she's coming to terms with inhabiting. ]
I will. [ because what is he to do, really? with all this distance, with all she's done. she does not doubt he would kill her, if he thought it necessary - and perhaps it is that understanding, that realization, that has really done it.
whereas before, she knew he would never hurt her. now, she knows he will, where it concerns ciri.
her eyes search his face for a moment, not out of desperation, or a belief she will find anything there. she does it just to look at him, and perhaps because she knows that it may be it. ] You might think you're safe out in the Cities, and you might be now, but you know as much as I that it won't be like that forever. Not with what the Queen is capable of.
[ yennefer bites back the urge to push, to tell him that she refuses to suffer, refuses to face consequences, for something she has not yet done. that he can look at her and blame her for all he wishes to, but she will carry the burden of something that is not hers.
( and further down, further inside there is the urge to scream. to ask why he can't forgive her, but ciri can. why he looks at her like a monster, like something at the end of his sword, when ciri does not. she doesn't get it, she doesn't understand, and she wants to. but she won't. can't. ) ]
At the summit, I had planned on going to Solvunn- I was going to go, but- [ she presses her lips together, remembering her conversations - with ciri, with jaskier, yes. but also with everyone else. all the faces, the people, the summoned. the queen, herself. when it came down to it, her reasons for going were not enough - geralt, asking her to, wasn't enough. not for everything that it would mean to give up.
she knows why geralt wanted it that way. knows why he'd thought of solvunn, thought it would work. she does not fault him for that, not entirely. but in the end... ]
no subject
( no matter whatever part of her might have wanted it to be different. no matter how much of her might have even started to hope. she knows better and has known better, and perhaps that is the heart of her stillness, now. )
perhaps it is a testament to how much she does know him, that she can see the stubbornness in his eyes. the anger, the bitterness. it is all rightfully turned to her, and she does not turn away from it, here. but for all that she wishes to hold onto that stillness, he does pull at her strings, just as he's always done. pull at her defensiveness, pulled some energy from her, despite the dark, hollow emptiness that she's coming to terms with inhabiting. ]
I will. [ because what is he to do, really? with all this distance, with all she's done. she does not doubt he would kill her, if he thought it necessary - and perhaps it is that understanding, that realization, that has really done it.
whereas before, she knew he would never hurt her. now, she knows he will, where it concerns ciri.
her eyes search his face for a moment, not out of desperation, or a belief she will find anything there. she does it just to look at him, and perhaps because she knows that it may be it. ] You might think you're safe out in the Cities, and you might be now, but you know as much as I that it won't be like that forever. Not with what the Queen is capable of.
[ yennefer bites back the urge to push, to tell him that she refuses to suffer, refuses to face consequences, for something she has not yet done. that he can look at her and blame her for all he wishes to, but she will carry the burden of something that is not hers.
( and further down, further inside there is the urge to scream. to ask why he can't forgive her, but ciri can. why he looks at her like a monster, like something at the end of his sword, when ciri does not. she doesn't get it, she doesn't understand, and she wants to. but she won't. can't. ) ]
At the summit, I had planned on going to Solvunn- I was going to go, but- [ she presses her lips together, remembering her conversations - with ciri, with jaskier, yes. but also with everyone else. all the faces, the people, the summoned. the queen, herself. when it came down to it, her reasons for going were not enough - geralt, asking her to, wasn't enough. not for everything that it would mean to give up.
she knows why geralt wanted it that way. knows why he'd thought of solvunn, thought it would work. she does not fault him for that, not entirely. but in the end... ]
I am tired of running. I won't do it.