[ A hint aged, perhaps. It's more in the eyes than anything, but Geralt is used to seeing that. The weight that settles there year by year and never goes away. Doesn't matter how little or how much one ages otherwise.
He snorts. ] I prefer you here than in Lettenhove.
[ He adds nothing more. It no longer feels so selfish a sentiment to state out loud now that they've decided to settle. Now that Jaskier has confessed he is happy here, making a name for himself, that he does not miss the Continent.
He listens to Jaskier strum his lute, eventually tuck it away for sleep. Snuffs out the fire. They needn't keep it going through the night in the warmth of the desert. An hour or so later, Geralt lays down to sleep, too. He wakes once in the night, and then rises on the edge of dawn. Roach is by the tree. He goes to ready her for the day's ride—is adjusting how his sword sits at her side when he hears a thump of footsteps, shouting. The screech of a small gryphon.
Ah, fuck. What now?
He sniffs the air (no blood) as he follows the noise, catching up to Jaskier in the middle of the trees. Notably, without Mog in his arms. Not that hard to put two and two together.
Geralt sighs. He does not say that this is why he'd not wanted Mog along. He hadn't because instinctively Geralt prefers to travel with as little to look after as possible, but that's not the point. The gryphon is important to his friend, and Geralt is not so much of an oblivious bastard that he can't understand the reasons behind it.
no subject
He snorts. ] I prefer you here than in Lettenhove.
[ He adds nothing more. It no longer feels so selfish a sentiment to state out loud now that they've decided to settle. Now that Jaskier has confessed he is happy here, making a name for himself, that he does not miss the Continent.
He listens to Jaskier strum his lute, eventually tuck it away for sleep. Snuffs out the fire. They needn't keep it going through the night in the warmth of the desert. An hour or so later, Geralt lays down to sleep, too. He wakes once in the night, and then rises on the edge of dawn. Roach is by the tree. He goes to ready her for the day's ride—is adjusting how his sword sits at her side when he hears a thump of footsteps, shouting. The screech of a small gryphon.
Ah, fuck. What now?
He sniffs the air (no blood) as he follows the noise, catching up to Jaskier in the middle of the trees. Notably, without Mog in his arms. Not that hard to put two and two together.
Geralt sighs. He does not say that this is why he'd not wanted Mog along. He hadn't because instinctively Geralt prefers to travel with as little to look after as possible, but that's not the point. The gryphon is important to his friend, and Geralt is not so much of an oblivious bastard that he can't understand the reasons behind it.
So all he asks is, ] Which way?