[ 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! ))

Comments

[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.