[ There's a quiet huff. He can taste Jaskier's fear and somehow it only serves to amplify his own even further. Fear, but not only a human fear, not a rush of anxieties and unknown fates. It runs deeper in him, something primal, almost thoughtless, that will not release its hold. The kind that's been driving him to take back what is lost because it is his and he is not yet ready to lose it.
But he is not ready to lose Jaskier, either. (He just wants everything to stop.)
Jaskier says horses; Geralt's face indicates all there is to know about that thought. About why, perhaps, he has not taken his own horse when he often has. Why he's left Roach behind, unwilling to go near her. Jaskier does not appear to bring death upon his land (Geralt knows the tree is rotting because of him...or that is what he believes), and yet. The horses fear Jaskier for other reasons.
no subject
But he is not ready to lose Jaskier, either. (He just wants everything to stop.)
Jaskier says horses; Geralt's face indicates all there is to know about that thought. About why, perhaps, he has not taken his own horse when he often has. Why he's left Roach behind, unwilling to go near her. Jaskier does not appear to bring death upon his land (Geralt knows the tree is rotting because of him...or that is what he believes), and yet. The horses fear Jaskier for other reasons.
Moglad fears him. ]
On the back. Hold tight. Feet up.