[ CLOSED ] on the ice i'm afraid

[gynvael]

Who: Geralt + Various
When: November
Where: Cadens; Horizon; Nocwich
What: after the old gods, life goes on.
Warnings: Blanket for Witcher canon and general fuckery; nsfw marked



(( starters in the comments below. find me at discontinued or at Noa#1979 to plot stuff! ))

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[gynvael]

[ It's been there for a long while, hasn't it? That room. He turns on his side, fingers curling into his palm. It isn't like him, to ignore something of that nature for all this time. He just kept pushing it aside. Telling himself he'll take care of it later. ]

Mm. Happenstance. The Horizon—you know.

[ Portalled people into places they shouldn't be. That cellar amongst them. A dungeon, really. Dark and cold and windowless, bolted shut. But it's true he trusted Dean enough to let him help break it apart. It isn't gone, only in pieces. Geralt knows he wants to keep something of it, that—as he admitted at the time—it doesn't feel right to erase its existence entirely. He just isn't sure what. Maybe it'll come to him.

In the meantime. Where else if not the walls of Kaer Morhen? He considers. The woods? His swords by his side? He wants to argue that it isn't as though he felt unsafe in his Horizon. The memories haunting him are...ghosts. Nothing more. But that isn't true, and Jaskier knows it.

His answer comes after a stretch of silence. ] The temple in Ellander. I was sent to it as a boy. There was a priestess, Nenneke. She looked after us.

[ Jaskier must know her. That temple is one of the most prominent. Nenneke has tended to it and its students for decades. Though the last time he set foot in the temple, he left it bloodstained. Seems to be the case lately, where he goes. Still. Of his childhood memories, his time at the temple ranks some of the calmest. ]

[cointosser]

Happenstance.

[No, no, he understands. But it is quite a rare thing he would ever describe Geralt as finding himself into happenstances.

However, Jaskier feels the question he offers is important, and Geralt will take the answer seriously, so he is quiet while he waits. Mog is already purring in his favorite spot, ears flicking where Geralt's hair tickles the tips. He's trained Mog well. He knows not to interrupt very important things.

All he does is sleep and eat. He is a perfect companion.]

Oh, yes! I've heard of it. I've even had a rare chance to visit. Quite some time ago. [But not so long ago he cannot recall the long halls, the dim stone. A stone that somehow managed to be warm -- a bit more than Kaer Morhen, if you ask him.]

Then we make that. [Jaskier smiles, flicking a bit of Geralt's hair out of the Witcher's face.] And yes, I will be honored to help you, my friend. You needn't even ask.

[Technically, he hadn't yet.]

[gynvael]

[ Make it. Build a temple, beneath Kaer Morhen? Geralt hums. Is it foolish the idea never crossed his mind? To simply create a different structure altogether within another? He's seen what other people have made: creations that defy logic and rules. He's just...always stuck to what he knows. What he remembers.

He rolls his eyes, but there's no exasperation behind the gesture. His fingers curl around Jaskier's wrist. He rests his thumb over the pulse for a second. ]

It'd be warmer. [ That isn't the reason Jaskier has avoided stepping into Kaer Morhen. They aren't talking about the real reasons. They don't need to. ] You could visit without the winter.

[ Is he inviting? Asking? He isn't sure. He blames Jaskier not at all for feeling unsure around his domain. For not wanting to be in it. But...he has not forgotten their time at the beginning, when they didn't remember each other and yet had been friends for a lifetime, anyhow. When Jaskier would come riding along up the snowy path to his cabin, and the ice would melt, flowers peeking through.

Funny, to hold nostalgia for a time that wasn't quite real. That lasted hardly three fucking weeks. And yet—even now, he looks back on those days. ]

[cointosser]

[If it were any other topic, Jaskier knows he would absolutely hassle Geralt about this. About this... what is it but nothing less than an offering? Laid out for him like an unrolled carpet? Geralt may be undefinable to others, but Jaskier can see what, exactly, the Witcher is attempting to say between all these vague observations.

He smiles.]

I don't know. A part of me misses it sometimes.

[The reference does bring it to mind, too. He had not recognized it in those moments, so full of... of youthful vigor, and that desire for adventure. He feels like he's bloody aged a decade since then, since his first foray into the Horizon, where everything felt so bright and wonderful, even the sad bits.

He did not recognize that when he would visit the man he knew but didn't, that winter would melt into spring. The snow would melt as he made his way towards the cabin, and the caravan never stuck in mud nor did the horses slow.]

Though I do believe spring suits me much better now. [He flutters his fingers, and a small puff of camomile petals float onto Geralt's face.] We'll start it as soon as you're ready.

[gynvael]

[ It is the sort of remark Geralt only makes when the afterglow of sex is heavy. Leaves him saying shit he might usually think twice about.

His nose wrinkles as the petals shower him. He blows them off. A few land in his hair. ]

Spring's always suited you, Jaskier.

[ Hence the flowers. The magic that chose the bard. It need not be said how different it is to the magic that's chosen Geralt. Or manifested within him, as it were. He closes his eyes, releasing a contented breath. ]

Go to sleep before you suffocate me in your flowers.