[Now is hardly the time for Geralt to not explain himself – though he rarely ever has – but now, Jaskier truly has no grasp on what happened to him. He felt… he felt his life slipping out between his fingers, trying to hold his body together. As surely as he felt himself have a headache when he woke this morning.
The wet slide of blood and organs in his hands. The pain of it. The heat.
And then Geralt pulls away from him.
He’s left alone, surrounded by the crisp, dead flowers around him. His hands set down, crushing them, hardly strong enough to keep himself sitting up as they shake. His heart hammers so hard he can feel it beating in his tongue.]
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The wet slide of blood and organs in his hands. The pain of it. The heat.
And then Geralt pulls away from him.
He’s left alone, surrounded by the crisp, dead flowers around him. His hands set down, crushing them, hardly strong enough to keep himself sitting up as they shake. His heart hammers so hard he can feel it beating in his tongue.]
What did you do?