[ He can accept serenity. A sort of contentment with what he's done and made and found. At best, he thinks what he has here, it satisfies him in the ways that matter, in the ways that do not leave him feeling as if he's missing something he can't find.
Maybe in time, he can reconcile what it means to need or want a life he'd been forced into and never thought he could choose otherwise. Most of his years have been spent learning to accept because it was the only way the bitterness and hate did not grow to swallow him whole. That's all he knows how to do. To accept what hand he's been dealt, shape it and work with it to make something he can live with no matter how painful its mark.
For a long moment, he's silent. He wants to tell Jaskier to stop concerning himself so much with a Witcher's happiness. A few years ago, he might've. Now he simply hums, a sound that acknowledges what Jaskier is saying. ]
Be some time before you're gone, the rate you age. [ He's teasing, skirting around a topic he never likes to think of. Jaskier's very human mortality. But really, there's as much a chance Jaskier will outlive him. He's good at what he does. But it only takes one slip. ]
I don't miss the Continent. [ He admits it, finally. ] And there are people here who have become...more than I meant.
[ He's thinking of Sam and Rinwell and Julie and Nadine, but even past them: the handful of those he could call friends, more than he can ever recall having. They've forged a bond through this place. It is not one that can be replicated. ]
no subject
Maybe in time, he can reconcile what it means to need or want a life he'd been forced into and never thought he could choose otherwise. Most of his years have been spent learning to accept because it was the only way the bitterness and hate did not grow to swallow him whole. That's all he knows how to do. To accept what hand he's been dealt, shape it and work with it to make something he can live with no matter how painful its mark.
For a long moment, he's silent. He wants to tell Jaskier to stop concerning himself so much with a Witcher's happiness. A few years ago, he might've. Now he simply hums, a sound that acknowledges what Jaskier is saying. ]
Be some time before you're gone, the rate you age. [ He's teasing, skirting around a topic he never likes to think of. Jaskier's very human mortality. But really, there's as much a chance Jaskier will outlive him. He's good at what he does. But it only takes one slip. ]
I don't miss the Continent. [ He admits it, finally. ] And there are people here who have become...more than I meant.
[ He's thinking of Sam and Rinwell and Julie and Nadine, but even past them: the handful of those he could call friends, more than he can ever recall having. They've forged a bond through this place. It is not one that can be replicated. ]