Geralt z Rivii (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gynvael) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
abraxaslogs2021-07-04 01:42 pm
gynvael) wrote in abraxaslogs2021-07-04 01:42 pm
Entry tags:
( CLOSED )
Who: Geralt + Jaskier
When: Before the July event
Where: the castle // dungeons
What: A bardish visit, part 2.
Warnings: N/A
[ Time passes both quickly and not at all down here—but out of everything, it's the continued allowance of visits that surprises him. He's been waiting for security to tighten, for the guards to begin disposing of prisoners, for something to change. So far, nothing has. It leaves him uneasy, but it does mean he has a chance to bide his time while Jaskier is above.
He's been avoiding dwelling on the princess. It's been, what. Four weeks? Just about. A long time for a girl to run from an army. It's easier to simply accept there's no longer anything to go back for. The thought leaves a bitter taste, but he's not about to hang his hopes on fanciful hopes. On Destiny. Besides, what's one more regret amongst a pile of others?
Time to move on. Put his focus on other matters that need more pressing attention, here and now.
His leg, at least, is steadily healing. Not quickly; not getting worse, either. It's about all he can expect. He's seated on the ground where he often is, preferring its flat hard surface to the lumpy, scratchy bed, which he only just barely fits into. Geralt's got half a bun in his mouth—the same one he's been eating for weeks, every day, and even he's getting fucking bored of the same damn meal by now—when Jaskier appears out of the corner of his eye.
He doesn't turn around, but it's clear he notices the bard, his eyes sliding ever so slightly in Jaskier's direction before he turns back to his food. There's a vague Mmm that passes for a greeting. ]
When: Before the July event
Where: the castle // dungeons
What: A bardish visit, part 2.
Warnings: N/A
[ Time passes both quickly and not at all down here—but out of everything, it's the continued allowance of visits that surprises him. He's been waiting for security to tighten, for the guards to begin disposing of prisoners, for something to change. So far, nothing has. It leaves him uneasy, but it does mean he has a chance to bide his time while Jaskier is above.
He's been avoiding dwelling on the princess. It's been, what. Four weeks? Just about. A long time for a girl to run from an army. It's easier to simply accept there's no longer anything to go back for. The thought leaves a bitter taste, but he's not about to hang his hopes on fanciful hopes. On Destiny. Besides, what's one more regret amongst a pile of others?
Time to move on. Put his focus on other matters that need more pressing attention, here and now.
His leg, at least, is steadily healing. Not quickly; not getting worse, either. It's about all he can expect. He's seated on the ground where he often is, preferring its flat hard surface to the lumpy, scratchy bed, which he only just barely fits into. Geralt's got half a bun in his mouth—the same one he's been eating for weeks, every day, and even he's getting fucking bored of the same damn meal by now—when Jaskier appears out of the corner of his eye.
He doesn't turn around, but it's clear he notices the bard, his eyes sliding ever so slightly in Jaskier's direction before he turns back to his food. There's a vague Mmm that passes for a greeting. ]
no subject
For a bit, he simply sits where he is. His reluctance to return to the dungeons is apparent, even if he won't say it. The cell feels ever more crowded as time passes. Pushing Cirilla out of his mind grows harder the more restless he is. It all snowballs into a yawning pit, an urge that itches his fingers, makes him want to curl them around the grip of a blade he doesn't have.
So when Jaskier embraces him, out of nowhere, it startles him briefly. He's tense, before lifting a hand to accept it. His expression is difficult to read afterwards: contemplative, but etched with a concern he won't yet voice. Jaskier doesn't often hide his emotions. This time, it's different. He knows his friend is keeping a few things unspoken. That Jaskier has not said in explicit terms what he's afraid will happen, might happen. Truth be known, Geralt's not sure if Jaskier knows -- if any of them know. Maybe that's part of the fear. ]
Should worry about yourself first, bard. [ It's gruff, intentionally so, but a softness belies his words. ] Just find me those maps.
[ It'll give Jaskier something to do. Something to focus on. And the implication, further: that he doesn't plan on wasting away in some foreign court's dungeons if he can help it. ]