[ he’s not wrong - she doesn’t fully understand the extent to which ciri’s powers go. she knows that there she has it, that her conduit moment was real and was powerful, and that she, herself, is a spark of something that yennefer used to know so well. seeing her at the summit had only solidified that - that precious, bright, powerful thing in her. that which had to be protected. that which voleth mier had obviously wanted for herself.
but he also doesn’t see it. not in the way she does. that ciri living in a place that fears magic already, that drawing any unnecessary attention from the queen - geralt has always fought monsters, creatures he could track and study but ultimately had to react to. yennefer has fought the world of men, the machinations of court and the greed of war and everything else in between.
she wants to argue that this decision wasn’t about her - because in a lot of ways, it wasn’t. but she also knows better than to say that aloud, despite the urge to - knows that the second the words would leave her lips, they wouldn’t be entirely true. some part of this decision had been about her, about where she could actually help, about where she’s been helping - or trying to. a muscle in her jaw jumps as she holds her mouth closed, her eyes still on him as his anger seeps into the air around them.
except that’s the problem, isn’t it? that with his anger, her’s can’t help but rise to meet it. ]
You asked me to make a choice, and I did.
[ she will not mention how he hadn’t really given her the option, that as far as he’d been concerned, it was solvunn or betrayal. solvunn or this. a small part of her knows that, and nearly resents him for it. nearly, but not quite.
except that she can’t leave it there - because he says the exact things she, in part, knows are true. because in a way, she is running. because in a way, no matter how much she tries, no matter how much she builds, it all burns away in the end. she knows this as well as she knows the shape of the burning carcass of a domain that she has left. knows this as well as she’s always known everything.
( her hands had burned through much more than nilfgaard’s army, long before the war. why would she ever think she’d stop there? ) ]
Do not lecture me about loss, Geralt. I know it just as you do. [ the words are edged with a sort of echo of her own anger, her heels digging into the ground. geralt is angry, she’d known he would be, and she should have known in turn her own would rise to meet him.
because for all he may know of it - of the loss of choice, the loss of life, the loss of what they’d thought they might have once been able to hold onto - it is also one of the few consistencies she’s ever really had. loss, and the drive to take it back.
here, though, yennefer does not feel that drive. can’t allow herself to. won’t. instead, she swallows, tilts her head a bit more towards him, let’s all of this settle in the soft earth.
i will not wait… ]
Then don’t.
[ she could try to explain herself, if she thought it would matter. the singularity is the key or the queen is our biggest threat or a slew of other explanations, but none of them would matter. not to him. not for this.
( please believe me. )
broken hearts are nothing new to yennefer, even when they are her own. ]
no subject
but he also doesn’t see it. not in the way she does. that ciri living in a place that fears magic already, that drawing any unnecessary attention from the queen - geralt has always fought monsters, creatures he could track and study but ultimately had to react to. yennefer has fought the world of men, the machinations of court and the greed of war and everything else in between.
she wants to argue that this decision wasn’t about her - because in a lot of ways, it wasn’t. but she also knows better than to say that aloud, despite the urge to - knows that the second the words would leave her lips, they wouldn’t be entirely true. some part of this decision had been about her, about where she could actually help, about where she’s been helping - or trying to. a muscle in her jaw jumps as she holds her mouth closed, her eyes still on him as his anger seeps into the air around them.
except that’s the problem, isn’t it? that with his anger, her’s can’t help but rise to meet it. ]
You asked me to make a choice, and I did.
[ she will not mention how he hadn’t really given her the option, that as far as he’d been concerned, it was solvunn or betrayal. solvunn or this. a small part of her knows that, and nearly resents him for it. nearly, but not quite.
except that she can’t leave it there - because he says the exact things she, in part, knows are true. because in a way, she is running. because in a way, no matter how much she tries, no matter how much she builds, it all burns away in the end. she knows this as well as she knows the shape of the burning carcass of a domain that she has left. knows this as well as she’s always known everything.
( her hands had burned through much more than nilfgaard’s army, long before the war. why would she ever think she’d stop there? ) ]
Do not lecture me about loss, Geralt. I know it just as you do. [ the words are edged with a sort of echo of her own anger, her heels digging into the ground. geralt is angry, she’d known he would be, and she should have known in turn her own would rise to meet him.
because for all he may know of it - of the loss of choice, the loss of life, the loss of what they’d thought they might have once been able to hold onto - it is also one of the few consistencies she’s ever really had. loss, and the drive to take it back.
here, though, yennefer does not feel that drive. can’t allow herself to. won’t. instead, she swallows, tilts her head a bit more towards him, let’s all of this settle in the soft earth.
i will not wait… ]
Then don’t.
[ she could try to explain herself, if she thought it would matter. the singularity is the key or the queen is our biggest threat or a slew of other explanations, but none of them would matter. not to him. not for this.
( please believe me. )
broken hearts are nothing new to yennefer, even when they are her own. ]