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[ as the singularity settles and its effects ease away, yennefer has all but returned to what she has come to realize is her 'normal' schedule around the castle. her classes, lectures, independent studies with her two apprentices, and private lessons in alchemy and botany have returned to their usual schedule, though she has picked up quite a few more private lessons among the summoned. this primarily means that more often than not when someone is looking to find the venerable lady yennefer, they can do so around her classroom or coming to or from the academic library. while she is not an accepted and therefore scheduled professor of the academy in the castle, there are quite a few students who find her lessons to be interesting enough to spend time following, and with enough time yennefer finds she doesn't really mind the process of it.
( oh, how tissaia would love this - yennefer, the rectoress. the instructor. gods, she hopes she never finds out. )
that isn't to say she relents on any of her other duties, especially where it concern's the queen's court, either; but more so that if you find yennefer walking amongst the castle, there is a much higher chance that she is moving either to something, or away from it, her walk brisk and confident around the hallways and main courtrooms of the castle. she will be most often found either in the south wing, the throne room, and her classroom. stopping her while she is walking will most likely result in either quick dismissal to find her later, or a request that you walk with her as she moves to her next appointment, and the conversations will usually be kept brief. if you're looking for a longer interaction with lady yennefer, it will serve you better to catch her while she is in her classroom between classes, or when she is on her way back to the north wing. ]
Edited 2022-11-30 22:18 (UTC)
[ Between Yennefer's recovery after her attack and the unease caused by the affliction, tensions have been rather high and time spent together has been minimal. Anakin, despite his eagerness and desire to be close to her at all times, has given her the space she's wanted. Between her and Mat, he'd been a busy man ensuring that they were both aware that he was there for them. Now it seems that things have returned mostly to normal.
Armed with two bottles of wine pilfered from the kitchens and a few wine glasses, he makes his way to Yennefer's private room. It's much better than dragging her to the very public room he shares with Mat. It's not exactly fit for the stolen and private thing they've cultivated and he'd very much like to keep it. He's used to being secretive and intimate as much as he'd love to yell from the rooftops.
She's expecting him, so he knocks on her door before letting himself in. ]
Yennefer? It's just me. I brought some -- wha-- HEY! [ Something solid strikes his head followed by a sharp tug at his hair. He raises an arm to shield himself from the offending...
Bird. It's a bird. ]
Armed with two bottles of wine pilfered from the kitchens and a few wine glasses, he makes his way to Yennefer's private room. It's much better than dragging her to the very public room he shares with Mat. It's not exactly fit for the stolen and private thing they've cultivated and he'd very much like to keep it. He's used to being secretive and intimate as much as he'd love to yell from the rooftops.
She's expecting him, so he knocks on her door before letting himself in. ]
Yennefer? It's just me. I brought some -- wha-- HEY! [ Something solid strikes his head followed by a sharp tug at his hair. He raises an arm to shield himself from the offending...
Bird. It's a bird. ]
[ whether or not anakin has realized it as such, his distance during yennefer's recovery as well as whatever it was the horizon has decided to do to the summoned soon after had been a fairly intelligent survival mood on his part. her emotions, while normally a bit unwieldly and largely reactive, could have easily turned deadly if she was not given the time to recenter herself after. that is not to say they have been avoiding each other - but quick stolen moments in corner rooms and sexually tense conversations left unanswered are hardly enough.
which is part of the reason why yennefer hadn't even bothered being coy when she told anakin to come to her rooms later that night. why she hadn't bothered with grins, or clues, or anything less than something clear and direct when she found him. there should be no doubt in his mind why her intentions are - and while this is hardly the first time they've done this, yennefer can't help but look forward to the night. can't help but, perhaps, plan accordingly, leaving her situated at her vanity when the knock comes.
she is glancing over her shoulder just in time to watch her sandpiper dive directly into anakin's hair, grabbing talons full of of the blond locks and tugging, all the while seemingly incredibly displeased with his appearance there. yennefer, in contrast, feels a smile spread out across her face as she rises from her seat - dressed in an elegant robe and looking all the part a lady in the undressing process in her bedroom. her smile is quite entertained as she closes the distance to him near the front, her hand curling around the neck of one of the bottles of wine. ]
Be careful with that. [ yennefer is, of course, referring to the wine that she takes from one of his hands and then checks the label, turning back to her room. ] You've been paying attention.
which is part of the reason why yennefer hadn't even bothered being coy when she told anakin to come to her rooms later that night. why she hadn't bothered with grins, or clues, or anything less than something clear and direct when she found him. there should be no doubt in his mind why her intentions are - and while this is hardly the first time they've done this, yennefer can't help but look forward to the night. can't help but, perhaps, plan accordingly, leaving her situated at her vanity when the knock comes.
she is glancing over her shoulder just in time to watch her sandpiper dive directly into anakin's hair, grabbing talons full of of the blond locks and tugging, all the while seemingly incredibly displeased with his appearance there. yennefer, in contrast, feels a smile spread out across her face as she rises from her seat - dressed in an elegant robe and looking all the part a lady in the undressing process in her bedroom. her smile is quite entertained as she closes the distance to him near the front, her hand curling around the neck of one of the bottles of wine. ]
Be careful with that. [ yennefer is, of course, referring to the wine that she takes from one of his hands and then checks the label, turning back to her room. ] You've been paying attention.
[ Perhaps he's a bit too selfish to realize that there could have been any negatives in being with her through the affliction. All the same, when she'd told him explicitly to come to her room, there was no hesitation in making sure he'd be there. It doesn't matter that this isn't the first or even second time they've done this, there's always a level of thrill and the butterflies in the pit of his gut inevitably come back. He won't do Yennefer the disservice of comparing her to Padmé at every turn, but in these fond and frankly awed moments, he can't help himself.
Well. That is until he's persistently pecked and tugged at by her pet bird. He can't begin to understand why this sandpiper has it in for him when he hasn't done anything in his own perspective to cause its distaste. Anakin tries to gently wave the bird away, not wanting to hurt him. He'll tire out eventually, he always does. ]
Have we figured out why your bird hates me, yet?
[ He moves further into the room, closing the door as he gives another half-hearted wave at the bird chittering unhappily about his head. It's hard to not pay attention to the details with someone like Yennefer. Her well-manicured and delicate fingers curled around the neck of the bottle, the way she savors the flavor of this particular red wine on her tongue far longer than the others. The dressing gown accentuates all her best features, yet still leaves her modestly covered. Teasing of more, but leaving room for the imagination.
Anakin hums in agreement, his smile soft and fond. He comes behind her to set the other bottle and the glasses down on her vanity. ] I've been known to do that from time to time. Anything I've missed?
Well. That is until he's persistently pecked and tugged at by her pet bird. He can't begin to understand why this sandpiper has it in for him when he hasn't done anything in his own perspective to cause its distaste. Anakin tries to gently wave the bird away, not wanting to hurt him. He'll tire out eventually, he always does. ]
Have we figured out why your bird hates me, yet?
[ He moves further into the room, closing the door as he gives another half-hearted wave at the bird chittering unhappily about his head. It's hard to not pay attention to the details with someone like Yennefer. Her well-manicured and delicate fingers curled around the neck of the bottle, the way she savors the flavor of this particular red wine on her tongue far longer than the others. The dressing gown accentuates all her best features, yet still leaves her modestly covered. Teasing of more, but leaving room for the imagination.
Anakin hums in agreement, his smile soft and fond. He comes behind her to set the other bottle and the glasses down on her vanity. ] I've been known to do that from time to time. Anything I've missed?
Edited (after further consideration, I'M NOT DONE) 2022-11-24 01:27 (UTC)
[ it's young is what it is, the energy that anakin has. how when she tells him to stay away, he listens but pushes back. how when she tells him to come by, he is there, with wine, and a kind of excited buzzing under his skin. she doesn't need to have her sensitivity to chaos to tell that he on edge, that he's drawn in, that it's a good kind of energy that's pressing him forward towards her.
the whole ordeal with the bird makes her smile, if only because it does make sense, doesn't it? that jaskier's sandpiper would be protective, that he wouldn't approve of anakin in yennefer's room, a space that has been only her's for so long. whether or not the sandpiper realizes that yennefer is the one who has brought anakin here doesn't really matter, it's still entertaining. ]
My bird is being protective of my space and privacy. I guess you'll just need to work harder to win his favor.
[ it's playful, mostly yennefer saying that it's not her problem and anakin will have to figure it out for himself. she's sure he can figure it out, and so far it hasn't proven to be an actual problem, since the sandpiper seems to get bored after a certain amount of poking and prodding. though what she is drawn in by is the wine that she sets down, and the other bottle he sets down next to it, the glasses too. it brings a full, pleased look to her expression as she turns to face him, now up in his space from where he was standing behind her. her face is tilted up towards his, humming now in return, as her head tilts back and forth. ]
Not from what I've found, yet. There's still time. [ that's when she sets her hands on his chest, making it very clear what's on her mind as her eyes look him over, even if she doesn't quite close the distance. she is in a mood, a good one at that, and it's made even better with him and the wine. it's an interesting thing, to have something that she can know will improve her mood and her night, someone that has proven to be so efficient in doing so. she smiles, her eyes lingering on his mouth, before she glances up to his eyes. ]
Pour me a glass?
the whole ordeal with the bird makes her smile, if only because it does make sense, doesn't it? that jaskier's sandpiper would be protective, that he wouldn't approve of anakin in yennefer's room, a space that has been only her's for so long. whether or not the sandpiper realizes that yennefer is the one who has brought anakin here doesn't really matter, it's still entertaining. ]
My bird is being protective of my space and privacy. I guess you'll just need to work harder to win his favor.
[ it's playful, mostly yennefer saying that it's not her problem and anakin will have to figure it out for himself. she's sure he can figure it out, and so far it hasn't proven to be an actual problem, since the sandpiper seems to get bored after a certain amount of poking and prodding. though what she is drawn in by is the wine that she sets down, and the other bottle he sets down next to it, the glasses too. it brings a full, pleased look to her expression as she turns to face him, now up in his space from where he was standing behind her. her face is tilted up towards his, humming now in return, as her head tilts back and forth. ]
Not from what I've found, yet. There's still time. [ that's when she sets her hands on his chest, making it very clear what's on her mind as her eyes look him over, even if she doesn't quite close the distance. she is in a mood, a good one at that, and it's made even better with him and the wine. it's an interesting thing, to have something that she can know will improve her mood and her night, someone that has proven to be so efficient in doing so. she smiles, her eyes lingering on his mouth, before she glances up to his eyes. ]
Pour me a glass?
( rhaenyra cannot claim that her unsettling improves overmuch, even as days turn into a meager few weeks.
and yet, the issue persists: the information she could gather herself is mere scraps in comparison to what can be achieved with speaking — and listening — to the right people.
rumors of the queen's temper serve as a fine deterrent from pursuing a path she would have been far more inclined to otherwise, if she had any titles and crowns left of her own. but as it were, there is a single truth that now rings so terribly real, a reminder within her solitude: without their dragons, the targaryens were just like everyone else. and here, being so newly summoned, there was another truth, harsher in its reminder — she had no power here. only herself.
but, it would need to be enough.
the second rumor proves more promising — of the queen's advisor. a woman by the name of yennefer and it is with that knowledge and with a brief description (a dark-haired beauty with violet eyes, she's told. you can't miss her) that rhaenyra spends some time searching.
it isn't an unfamiliar song and dance, this courtly play. but she still finds her nerves twisting, and she nearly fusses with her hands, free of her rings. that the mages were kind enough to conjure a dress so close to targaryen fashion was a brief relief, tightly buttoned coat of black and red like armor, fabric like dragonscales. that it lacked the smell of home was an absence she would need to ignore, for the time being.
she needed answers. plenty of them. and more than that, she needed allies, if she were to have any chance in understanding her situation in anything but perceived half truths. (rhaenyra knows that what she is told may very well be the honest truth; but there are too many unknowns and she has too little faith. no one smart reveals their entire hand. certainly not someone with power enough to drag others from worlds)
which leads her back to here — to lingering outside what looks to be a lesson room. there is luck to her timing, she thinks, watching as a handful of students file out. it is rather a novelty — for someone with such a high reputation to be teaching. the thought of otto hightower conducting a class strikes rhaenyra somewhere between amusing and downright cruel, as she ducks through the threshold.
there's a moment where she considers the array before her — various plants, vials, and bottles line so much of the room. it would be curious to look a while longer, but the main reason she is here stands before her now, as rhaenyra turns her eyes towards her. yennefer is beautiful, she thinks in recollection to her description. but when she looks at her, she can't help but think of storms, of petrichor from falling rain; a certain sharpness of character evident even without having ever spoken to her before — and such observation strikes her as hopeful. )
Lady Yennefer, ( she says, hands folded in front of her as she walks closer; posture straight, habitually so, chin carried high despite all that's so far been endured. the smile she offers is polite and curious. ) I hope you will pardon my interruption. I was advised to seek you out. You serve as an advisor to the Queen, do you not?
and yet, the issue persists: the information she could gather herself is mere scraps in comparison to what can be achieved with speaking — and listening — to the right people.
rumors of the queen's temper serve as a fine deterrent from pursuing a path she would have been far more inclined to otherwise, if she had any titles and crowns left of her own. but as it were, there is a single truth that now rings so terribly real, a reminder within her solitude: without their dragons, the targaryens were just like everyone else. and here, being so newly summoned, there was another truth, harsher in its reminder — she had no power here. only herself.
but, it would need to be enough.
the second rumor proves more promising — of the queen's advisor. a woman by the name of yennefer and it is with that knowledge and with a brief description (a dark-haired beauty with violet eyes, she's told. you can't miss her) that rhaenyra spends some time searching.
it isn't an unfamiliar song and dance, this courtly play. but she still finds her nerves twisting, and she nearly fusses with her hands, free of her rings. that the mages were kind enough to conjure a dress so close to targaryen fashion was a brief relief, tightly buttoned coat of black and red like armor, fabric like dragonscales. that it lacked the smell of home was an absence she would need to ignore, for the time being.
she needed answers. plenty of them. and more than that, she needed allies, if she were to have any chance in understanding her situation in anything but perceived half truths. (rhaenyra knows that what she is told may very well be the honest truth; but there are too many unknowns and she has too little faith. no one smart reveals their entire hand. certainly not someone with power enough to drag others from worlds)
which leads her back to here — to lingering outside what looks to be a lesson room. there is luck to her timing, she thinks, watching as a handful of students file out. it is rather a novelty — for someone with such a high reputation to be teaching. the thought of otto hightower conducting a class strikes rhaenyra somewhere between amusing and downright cruel, as she ducks through the threshold.
there's a moment where she considers the array before her — various plants, vials, and bottles line so much of the room. it would be curious to look a while longer, but the main reason she is here stands before her now, as rhaenyra turns her eyes towards her. yennefer is beautiful, she thinks in recollection to her description. but when she looks at her, she can't help but think of storms, of petrichor from falling rain; a certain sharpness of character evident even without having ever spoken to her before — and such observation strikes her as hopeful. )
Lady Yennefer, ( she says, hands folded in front of her as she walks closer; posture straight, habitually so, chin carried high despite all that's so far been endured. the smile she offers is polite and curious. ) I hope you will pardon my interruption. I was advised to seek you out. You serve as an advisor to the Queen, do you not?
[Alicent had been told of Yennefer several times and specifically searched for the woman, remembering the description of her, very fair and with purple eyes. It was distinct enough that she felt certain she found the woman in the library. Serendipity, that is what it was. She often frequented the library in the hope of understanding and learning magic, connecting to her House's history. She should have imagined it was inevitable that they would meet eventually, but how perfect it was here?
Alicent was a bit hesitant, smiling shyly at the woman who seemed so regal and so much more experienced.]
Pardon me, but are you the Lady Yennefer?
Alicent was a bit hesitant, smiling shyly at the woman who seemed so regal and so much more experienced.]
Pardon me, but are you the Lady Yennefer?
[ He's got absolutely no idea how he's going to get a bird of all creatures to get along with him. The sandpiper is just being unreasonable because clearly he's wanted here. Anakin huffs petulantly at her nonchalant response- very pointedly making him sure he knows that's his problem to figure out and will do nothing to aid him. It's fine, he's done more with less. It just seems silly that all this fuss is over a bird not liking him.
Sandpiper forgotten as she turns to face him, Anakin's smile is warm and soft, and he's unable to keep his hands to himself. His right hand, still covered in its leather glove, rests solidly on the swell of her hip. The other is brought up to gently grasp her chin so he can keep her in place long enough to kiss her. The press of his lips against hers is languid and over before he wants it to be. But she's asked him so nicely for a drink, how could he think to say no? ]
Oh, give it time, I'm sure I'll piss you off somehow. [ He's as stubborn as she is. It's only a matter of time before he decides that he's not good with the boundary she's set and pushes past it because he feels he knows better. Or wants to help when she's said she doesn't want or need it and he has to prove that she does.
Reluctantly, he steps away so that he can properly get her a drink. The task doesn't distract him for long, and he offers her a glass of the pilfered wine as he takes a sip of his own. When he first got her, he hated how bitter the available wine was, but now he's got an appreciation for it- especially for a decent bottle. ]
So, I assume you have something specific in mind tonight?
Sandpiper forgotten as she turns to face him, Anakin's smile is warm and soft, and he's unable to keep his hands to himself. His right hand, still covered in its leather glove, rests solidly on the swell of her hip. The other is brought up to gently grasp her chin so he can keep her in place long enough to kiss her. The press of his lips against hers is languid and over before he wants it to be. But she's asked him so nicely for a drink, how could he think to say no? ]
Oh, give it time, I'm sure I'll piss you off somehow. [ He's as stubborn as she is. It's only a matter of time before he decides that he's not good with the boundary she's set and pushes past it because he feels he knows better. Or wants to help when she's said she doesn't want or need it and he has to prove that she does.
Reluctantly, he steps away so that he can properly get her a drink. The task doesn't distract him for long, and he offers her a glass of the pilfered wine as he takes a sip of his own. When he first got her, he hated how bitter the available wine was, but now he's got an appreciation for it- especially for a decent bottle. ]
So, I assume you have something specific in mind tonight?
[ oh, that’s not what yennefer is arguing. she is very aware that anakin is wanted here, as she is the one to explicitly call him to her room, but it’s the sandpiper he has to convince of that. and there is a good part of yennefer that is amused by the ordeal.
she knows enough about anakin to know he won’t stop until he’s got this figured out. or at least until he’s strongarmed his way to a kind of agreement. his will and determination is something she likes about him, after all. but there is entertainment in watching it happen.
the weight of his hand at her hip is a familiar one, especially when accompanied with the one under her chin, and yennefer finds herself smiling gently into the press of lips. he is hungry for it, hungry for more of her, and it sends a pleased warm feeling through her chest. the kiss is gentle, slow, and yennefer kisses him back with the same languid warmth he shows her, even as she pulls away to ask for the glass of wine.
i’m sure i’ll piss you off somehow he says, casually, and yennefer snorts. because yes, she knows better than most that there will come a time when all the things he loves about her will turn on their head back at him. how her will and power and might will come up against whatever it is he believes to be worth the force of it. but that will be a problem for another day. ] I’d be warned— I’m something of a nightmare when I’m pissed off. [ she says it with a joking edge, but plenty of self awareness too.
and yet, even as he says that, anakin is still turning to pour her the glass, and yennefer steps in behind him, closing that small amount of distance to set her chin to his shoulder. hmmmm she hums, her own hands setting on his hips, deciding she wants the extended contact, until he turns to hand her the glass. she lets go of him enough to take a sip, though she’s still close, still somewhat in his space, as she considers. ]
I have some ideas, yes, though I’m always open for more. [ her brow arches when she glances to meet his eyes. ] If you have any.
she knows enough about anakin to know he won’t stop until he’s got this figured out. or at least until he’s strongarmed his way to a kind of agreement. his will and determination is something she likes about him, after all. but there is entertainment in watching it happen.
the weight of his hand at her hip is a familiar one, especially when accompanied with the one under her chin, and yennefer finds herself smiling gently into the press of lips. he is hungry for it, hungry for more of her, and it sends a pleased warm feeling through her chest. the kiss is gentle, slow, and yennefer kisses him back with the same languid warmth he shows her, even as she pulls away to ask for the glass of wine.
i’m sure i’ll piss you off somehow he says, casually, and yennefer snorts. because yes, she knows better than most that there will come a time when all the things he loves about her will turn on their head back at him. how her will and power and might will come up against whatever it is he believes to be worth the force of it. but that will be a problem for another day. ] I’d be warned— I’m something of a nightmare when I’m pissed off. [ she says it with a joking edge, but plenty of self awareness too.
and yet, even as he says that, anakin is still turning to pour her the glass, and yennefer steps in behind him, closing that small amount of distance to set her chin to his shoulder. hmmmm she hums, her own hands setting on his hips, deciding she wants the extended contact, until he turns to hand her the glass. she lets go of him enough to take a sip, though she’s still close, still somewhat in his space, as she considers. ]
I have some ideas, yes, though I’m always open for more. [ her brow arches when she glances to meet his eyes. ] If you have any.
[ when tales of nocwich's reopening make their way to yennefer, she wastes no time in sending jaskier a quick message. as far as the court is concerned, her reasons for visiting nocwich come at the idea to continue her studies into the benefits of the sap, to possibly make contact with more representatives of ikorr, and to return with this newly researched information. the truth of the matter is that yennefer has what is becoming a fairly long list of errands she wishes to run for herself, and after the last couple of months in the castle, the idea of having some space to breathe is impossible to turn down. that, when added to the simple fact of her newest discovery, well, finding and seeing jaskier quickly becomes one of the most important of said errands.
truthfully, it's a wonder she hasn't told him already, but now that she knows it can be shown, well, she can wait for that.
and it may be a bit out of nowhere, she and jaskier have been keeping a respectful distance since the attack after their last trip to nocwich, and yennefer does recognize the low levels of anxiety that compress her lungs as she steps through the portal, but this...this she doesn't know she can wait much longer to share. it's a ridiculously naive sort of energy that pushes her through the portal, that has her securing a private room at the gambling den, and that moves her through her duties of the day. it is not until a few hours after her arrival, when it could perhaps be seen as evening, though the ever-present night does complicate that, that she returns to the den and back to her room.
when jaskier (and, perhaps, if he brings any guests with him) arrives, he will be discreetly directed to this private space; inside is where he will find a darkwood room, a couple of small tables and chairs, a fireplace and couch, two bottles of dark liquor, two glasses, and an uncharacteristically excited yennefer, her eyes bright as she turns to the opening door. ]
truthfully, it's a wonder she hasn't told him already, but now that she knows it can be shown, well, she can wait for that.
and it may be a bit out of nowhere, she and jaskier have been keeping a respectful distance since the attack after their last trip to nocwich, and yennefer does recognize the low levels of anxiety that compress her lungs as she steps through the portal, but this...this she doesn't know she can wait much longer to share. it's a ridiculously naive sort of energy that pushes her through the portal, that has her securing a private room at the gambling den, and that moves her through her duties of the day. it is not until a few hours after her arrival, when it could perhaps be seen as evening, though the ever-present night does complicate that, that she returns to the den and back to her room.
when jaskier (and, perhaps, if he brings any guests with him) arrives, he will be discreetly directed to this private space; inside is where he will find a darkwood room, a couple of small tables and chairs, a fireplace and couch, two bottles of dark liquor, two glasses, and an uncharacteristically excited yennefer, her eyes bright as she turns to the opening door. ]
Edited 2022-12-02 21:49 (UTC)
[ After speaking to Istredd at the welcome dinner, Natasha has started to do what she can to learn the beginning steps of magic. It's not an area she's ever had to practice before, let alone master, so it feels strange starting out at the very beginning. But understanding it had seemed like the logical place to start.
At first. Now she's not so sure.
She's become a familiar sight in the library over the past few days, often bent over a book or three. There's almost always a stack of them on the table she occupies, ready to be read next, and there's a notebook beside her with pages already filled in scribbled notes, most in shorthand that only Natasha will understand.
But it's late and the windows show it's already fallen dark outside in the hours she's lost here this afternoon. The library is quieter now, although there are still a studious few here and Natasha glances around at them idly before making a soft sound and stretching out stiff limbs and cracking her neck. Pushing to her feet when she decides that's enough time in one position for the day, she makes to head for the door when she spots a woman nearby she's seen in her several times before now. And someone who looked like she knew what she was doing.
Always a plus, in Natasha's opinion. ]
Working late?
At first. Now she's not so sure.
She's become a familiar sight in the library over the past few days, often bent over a book or three. There's almost always a stack of them on the table she occupies, ready to be read next, and there's a notebook beside her with pages already filled in scribbled notes, most in shorthand that only Natasha will understand.
But it's late and the windows show it's already fallen dark outside in the hours she's lost here this afternoon. The library is quieter now, although there are still a studious few here and Natasha glances around at them idly before making a soft sound and stretching out stiff limbs and cracking her neck. Pushing to her feet when she decides that's enough time in one position for the day, she makes to head for the door when she spots a woman nearby she's seen in her several times before now. And someone who looked like she knew what she was doing.
Always a plus, in Natasha's opinion. ]
Working late?
[A braver man may have insisted Yennefer tell him what, exactly, is so important that she expects his presence without even a somewhat gentle request. And so here he is, lifting himself out of his life and current pursuits as if he has little going on, and -- and yes, he's dragged Geralt with him, not because he wishes to force the two of them together (he is not interested in forcing anything between witch and Witcher) but because Jaskier has now real reason to be cautious about traveling alone. Especially to Nocwich.
It is a very good thing he enjoys Nocwich. Though he has yet to spy Sten again, it would have felt, even for him, a little overbearing to request some sort of... escort.
Though it is good enough, he thinks, to have Geralt with him; not only because he is more than a force to be reckoned with, but because Jaskier feels no guilt in lifting the bag Mog is currently curled into and putting it in Geralt's hands.] Be nice to him, all right? I don't want your presence distracting her.
[Whether he's talking to Geralt or the gryphon remains a mystery.
Geralt remains outside the room as Jaskier walks inside, closing the door behind him for the illusion of privacy (he does not doubt Geralt can hear through the door.) Though he held more than mild feelings of trepidation in even traveling again (as he does outside Cadens at all now,) Jaskier visibly brightens, straightening up, to see Yennefer -- for what feels like years -- physically here, in the flesh. He's already reaching for her hands without thinking of it.] I know you did not only invite me for wining and dining, but I certainly can't complain if you did. It must be good news, mustn't it?
It is a very good thing he enjoys Nocwich. Though he has yet to spy Sten again, it would have felt, even for him, a little overbearing to request some sort of... escort.
Though it is good enough, he thinks, to have Geralt with him; not only because he is more than a force to be reckoned with, but because Jaskier feels no guilt in lifting the bag Mog is currently curled into and putting it in Geralt's hands.] Be nice to him, all right? I don't want your presence distracting her.
[Whether he's talking to Geralt or the gryphon remains a mystery.
Geralt remains outside the room as Jaskier walks inside, closing the door behind him for the illusion of privacy (he does not doubt Geralt can hear through the door.) Though he held more than mild feelings of trepidation in even traveling again (as he does outside Cadens at all now,) Jaskier visibly brightens, straightening up, to see Yennefer -- for what feels like years -- physically here, in the flesh. He's already reaching for her hands without thinking of it.] I know you did not only invite me for wining and dining, but I certainly can't complain if you did. It must be good news, mustn't it?
[ truthfully, yennefer should be a bit more on guard as she moves about nocwich - there is still real danger here, and she knows that whatever it was that begun last she was here, it is far from over. but at the same time, the idea of having someone over her shoulder, of there being a set of eyes on her at all times, it makes her skin crawl. anyone thorne appointed would mean half the reasons for her trip would have to be put on hold, and the idea of asking someone… no. she would rather force herself through that fear, would rather harbor that dark, solid feeling of anxiety, than ask for that sort of help.
for now, she makes her arrangements. she does what she can to make this meeting secretive, and then pushes away whatever worries she might have otherwise, because what boils over inside of her is enough to keep her going.
jaskier steps through and closes the doors behind him, and yennefer nearly bounces on her feet, meeting him halfway as he starts towards her. her sandpiper twitters happily, but whether that’s a reaction to yennefer’s own bright smile, or at jaskier’s presence, it’s hard to tell. when they meet, jaskier’s hands go for her own, and yennefer wastes no time in taking hold of his. in squeezing them, once, as she tugs him with her as she takes a few more steps back, bringing them to the center of the room. ]
If I simply wanted food and wine, I would make use of your cellar. No, this is more than that. Much more. I- [ gods, it’s good to see him - part of her almost forgets it. how different it feels to have him here, flesh and blood, rather than whatever image they want to see. for a brief moment it’s almost too much, having the chance to reach across and grab his face if she wanted to, to not worry for at least these moments about presentations, or factions, or anything else.
she shakes her head, squeezing his hands once more, arguably a bit too tightly as she speaks. her words are quick, not quite stumbling over themselves, but close, the same sort of barely contained energy that seems to be vibrating through her. ]
No, this you have to see in person. It’s- it’s something I was just able to- just. Watch.
[ she lets go of his hands, then, but does not go far - instead cupping her hands together between them. she closes her eyes for a moment, concentrating, and when she opens her hands a second or so after, between them is a miniature version (about the size of a mouse) of her sandpiper made from what appears to be smoke and air. it hops across her palms and opens its beak, a few notes of melody releasing from it, before it takes flight and, as soon as it leaves her hands, the smoke dissipates into air once again. ]
It is only an illusion, but- [ her voice is a bit softer, though that buoyancy is still there. and when jaskier turns back to see her expression, yennefer will be smiling - young and simple, bright and happy. if anyone was going to understand what this means for her, it would be him.
( and maybe that’s the real power of this meeting - that above all, through it all, it had been him she had thought about. the first person she could think to tell. who would understand, and who wouldn’t judge for just how bright this makes her feel. )
it has been just about ten months since she visited his horizon, the only place she could. but it has been longer still since he’s known. it felt right, somehow, that she would be able to bring him here. to show him in person.
how her magic is returning - not her chaos, exactly, but the rest of it. the magic she’s been learning. ]
for now, she makes her arrangements. she does what she can to make this meeting secretive, and then pushes away whatever worries she might have otherwise, because what boils over inside of her is enough to keep her going.
jaskier steps through and closes the doors behind him, and yennefer nearly bounces on her feet, meeting him halfway as he starts towards her. her sandpiper twitters happily, but whether that’s a reaction to yennefer’s own bright smile, or at jaskier’s presence, it’s hard to tell. when they meet, jaskier’s hands go for her own, and yennefer wastes no time in taking hold of his. in squeezing them, once, as she tugs him with her as she takes a few more steps back, bringing them to the center of the room. ]
If I simply wanted food and wine, I would make use of your cellar. No, this is more than that. Much more. I- [ gods, it’s good to see him - part of her almost forgets it. how different it feels to have him here, flesh and blood, rather than whatever image they want to see. for a brief moment it’s almost too much, having the chance to reach across and grab his face if she wanted to, to not worry for at least these moments about presentations, or factions, or anything else.
she shakes her head, squeezing his hands once more, arguably a bit too tightly as she speaks. her words are quick, not quite stumbling over themselves, but close, the same sort of barely contained energy that seems to be vibrating through her. ]
No, this you have to see in person. It’s- it’s something I was just able to- just. Watch.
[ she lets go of his hands, then, but does not go far - instead cupping her hands together between them. she closes her eyes for a moment, concentrating, and when she opens her hands a second or so after, between them is a miniature version (about the size of a mouse) of her sandpiper made from what appears to be smoke and air. it hops across her palms and opens its beak, a few notes of melody releasing from it, before it takes flight and, as soon as it leaves her hands, the smoke dissipates into air once again. ]
It is only an illusion, but- [ her voice is a bit softer, though that buoyancy is still there. and when jaskier turns back to see her expression, yennefer will be smiling - young and simple, bright and happy. if anyone was going to understand what this means for her, it would be him.
( and maybe that’s the real power of this meeting - that above all, through it all, it had been him she had thought about. the first person she could think to tell. who would understand, and who wouldn’t judge for just how bright this makes her feel. )
it has been just about ten months since she visited his horizon, the only place she could. but it has been longer still since he’s known. it felt right, somehow, that she would be able to bring him here. to show him in person.
how her magic is returning - not her chaos, exactly, but the rest of it. the magic she’s been learning. ]
Edited 2022-12-05 05:26 (UTC)
Much more? [He answers with a faint surprise tracing the edges, hearing that she would really take him up on his invitation -- to visit Bleobheris without hesitation, to perhaps visit the room once again he made for her -- even after the poor thing nearly died because of him (and he would have never forgiven himself, watching chaos overtake the Seat of Friendship twice) --
It is rare Jaskier's words are so easily taken from him, but it is a pleased confusion that steals them now. Yennefer is not, one could say accurately, excitable. But here, he sees it. It lights her face, brings a smile that is not edged in delicious satisfaction, but genuine (dare he say it?) joy.
It is, he realizes, the girl he once saw in a Horizon dream. The girl who existed before Yennefer the Sorceress.
His sandpiper will not take it personally that he is so distracted by the vision in front of him (and this is before Yennefer even crafts the bird) that he forgets even to give his long-lost creation a greeting.
Then, she does it. She cups her hands gently in a way he has often done himself. Excitable, barely contained; a bright spring thunderstorm trapped in a bottle. And a bird, so much like his first, crafts itself from nothing, from smoke pulled without flame, dizzying and beautiful. Its song as light as rain on petals.
Perhaps he could blame it on the overwhelming amount of stress he has been under recently.
(Perhaps.)
Jaskier's eyes tear up as the bird takes flight, disappearing. He yanks her against him and embraces her, and there is a trembling of barely contained something in his body as he squeezes and squeezes and exclaims:] Your magic! Oh, Yennefer, I'm so fucking -- gods, I'm so fucking happy for you --
[Because he does understand. Even if his understanding, his experience, of chaos is juvenile to hers in comparison, he has had it long enough, embroiled himself in it, that he understands. He understands the gain of it, the loss of it. The healing.
She is healing.] It's coming back!
It is rare Jaskier's words are so easily taken from him, but it is a pleased confusion that steals them now. Yennefer is not, one could say accurately, excitable. But here, he sees it. It lights her face, brings a smile that is not edged in delicious satisfaction, but genuine (dare he say it?) joy.
It is, he realizes, the girl he once saw in a Horizon dream. The girl who existed before Yennefer the Sorceress.
His sandpiper will not take it personally that he is so distracted by the vision in front of him (and this is before Yennefer even crafts the bird) that he forgets even to give his long-lost creation a greeting.
Then, she does it. She cups her hands gently in a way he has often done himself. Excitable, barely contained; a bright spring thunderstorm trapped in a bottle. And a bird, so much like his first, crafts itself from nothing, from smoke pulled without flame, dizzying and beautiful. Its song as light as rain on petals.
Perhaps he could blame it on the overwhelming amount of stress he has been under recently.
(Perhaps.)
Jaskier's eyes tear up as the bird takes flight, disappearing. He yanks her against him and embraces her, and there is a trembling of barely contained something in his body as he squeezes and squeezes and exclaims:] Your magic! Oh, Yennefer, I'm so fucking -- gods, I'm so fucking happy for you --
[Because he does understand. Even if his understanding, his experience, of chaos is juvenile to hers in comparison, he has had it long enough, embroiled himself in it, that he understands. He understands the gain of it, the loss of it. The healing.
She is healing.] It's coming back!
[ Geralt has agreed to accompany Jaskier and hold his fucking pet. Considering the last attack, it isn't as though Jaskier hasn't got good reason. Besides, Geralt does not like to think himself a nosy man. If Jaskier has business with Yennefer, that's the bard's prerogative. He can play bodyguard. Leave the two of them to it. He's not asked about their relationship from the start, even if he knows, of course, about certain events that transpired; he's no plans on prying now. He'll wait outside.
And listen in. Which is through no fault of his own. That's simply his hearing range.
In either case, he is not eavesdropping (much) when he catches something about magic, and coming back. He pauses. The gryphon pushes a paw in his face. It can't be what he thinks is happening. Can it? Is she...?
With Jaskier's precious companion tucked under one arm, Geralt frowns, then pushes open the door. No announcement or apology. It just opens. Then he's standing there, eyeing Jaskier embracing Yennefer as though they were long lost friends.
How times have changed.
Geralt clears his throat, leaning one shoulder against the door frame. Yes. Hello. It is he, your local Witcher interrupting because he's assumes this is a conversation he should make known that he's, mm. Overheard. Incidentally. Seems significant. ]
And listen in. Which is through no fault of his own. That's simply his hearing range.
In either case, he is not eavesdropping (much) when he catches something about magic, and coming back. He pauses. The gryphon pushes a paw in his face. It can't be what he thinks is happening. Can it? Is she...?
With Jaskier's precious companion tucked under one arm, Geralt frowns, then pushes open the door. No announcement or apology. It just opens. Then he's standing there, eyeing Jaskier embracing Yennefer as though they were long lost friends.
How times have changed.
Geralt clears his throat, leaning one shoulder against the door frame. Yes. Hello. It is he, your local Witcher interrupting because he's assumes this is a conversation he should make known that he's, mm. Overheard. Incidentally. Seems significant. ]
Edited 2022-12-05 17:37 (UTC)
[ she’s a bit distracted with it herself - it’s a strange feeling, to feel a little breathless, a little awestruck, in being able to see herself do something so small, so insignificant, compared to what she’d been capable of before. but at the same time, she can’t deny the way her chest tightens, just the slightest, at the view. she can’t deny the way her eyes still widen briefly, how her breath feels a bit caught - just for that moment, perhaps, but it is something.
if jaskier had waited any longer to react, yennefer may have had time to start thinking too hard about it. how ten months is hardly that long, how she is acting foolish, childish, but he doesn’t. instead, his reaction is genuine, yanking her to his chest, and what bursts from her is a kind of laugh. an almost giddy rush of air as her arms come around him too, squeeze him back. ]
It is! [ and she feels nearly weightless, a kind of wonder for this she hasn’t felt in years. decades. ] Now- [ she pulls out of the embrace so she can look at him, though that brightness is still there. ] It’s- gods, it’s less than even my first use of chaos, but-
[ that is when she notices two things at once- first, the tears in jaskier’s eyes, which immediately have her hands to his cheeks, her thumbs wiping the wetness away, opening her mouth to say something like are you crying? in an attempt to joke, but knowing her own eyes are damp.
and- the door opens.
the tension that shoots through her is visible, her fight or flight reflex mixed with an immense amount of fear. not again, not when jaskier is here, not-. the instinct is of course to fight, to step between jaskier and the door, to get them both away-
that is when she sees the figure in the door is geralt, and while the fear that had been shooting through her marginally dissipates, she also still finds herself freezing in place. because while if it were anyone who would come across them, it being geralt is still the…what? safest option? but at the same time she still isn’t exactly sure where they stand.
so, for now, yennefer has locked eyes with geralt and hasn’t really. moved. ]
if jaskier had waited any longer to react, yennefer may have had time to start thinking too hard about it. how ten months is hardly that long, how she is acting foolish, childish, but he doesn’t. instead, his reaction is genuine, yanking her to his chest, and what bursts from her is a kind of laugh. an almost giddy rush of air as her arms come around him too, squeeze him back. ]
It is! [ and she feels nearly weightless, a kind of wonder for this she hasn’t felt in years. decades. ] Now- [ she pulls out of the embrace so she can look at him, though that brightness is still there. ] It’s- gods, it’s less than even my first use of chaos, but-
[ that is when she notices two things at once- first, the tears in jaskier’s eyes, which immediately have her hands to his cheeks, her thumbs wiping the wetness away, opening her mouth to say something like are you crying? in an attempt to joke, but knowing her own eyes are damp.
and- the door opens.
the tension that shoots through her is visible, her fight or flight reflex mixed with an immense amount of fear. not again, not when jaskier is here, not-. the instinct is of course to fight, to step between jaskier and the door, to get them both away-
that is when she sees the figure in the door is geralt, and while the fear that had been shooting through her marginally dissipates, she also still finds herself freezing in place. because while if it were anyone who would come across them, it being geralt is still the…what? safest option? but at the same time she still isn’t exactly sure where they stand.
so, for now, yennefer has locked eyes with geralt and hasn’t really. moved. ]
[ It's only when he sees her, and she looks at him, that Geralt is struck with the fact that he's not seen her in person since their first trip into Nocwich. Briefly, at the Square, just before they parted for separate destinations. Things had been...tentative then, and it's changed a bit now, but their meetings in the Horizon were—
Planned. And this is not.
But this is different, because it is her loss of magic that's complicated matters. Not that it's all about her magic (as ever, it runs much deeper than that), but it is the crux that led them to where they are now—wounded, uncertain. He wants to believe she was not hiding this from him; he doesn't think she was, or else she'd not have told Jaskier. But he can feel questions surfacing about where, when, how her magic has returned. What exactly it means.
Nonetheless, Geralt does not like pretending, likes even less ignoring what should not be ignored. He's overheard, he's here at Jaskier's request, and so. She should know, and they can. Go from there.
Which means he's still waiting, watching her with a gaze that's careful, but also a little...hopeful. Like she'll say something that will tell him what small steps they've taken in their conversations tucked inside Jaskier's tree carry have carried over into the real world. Or maybe she will not, and they will find themselves exactly where they were months ago. Apart. He's no longer sure of anything these days, but the ground between them is at least solid enough that he can stand here in the first place, without so much of that painful ache that's followed them.
Jaskier will have to be the one to shatter the silence. ]
Planned. And this is not.
But this is different, because it is her loss of magic that's complicated matters. Not that it's all about her magic (as ever, it runs much deeper than that), but it is the crux that led them to where they are now—wounded, uncertain. He wants to believe she was not hiding this from him; he doesn't think she was, or else she'd not have told Jaskier. But he can feel questions surfacing about where, when, how her magic has returned. What exactly it means.
Nonetheless, Geralt does not like pretending, likes even less ignoring what should not be ignored. He's overheard, he's here at Jaskier's request, and so. She should know, and they can. Go from there.
Which means he's still waiting, watching her with a gaze that's careful, but also a little...hopeful. Like she'll say something that will tell him what small steps they've taken in their conversations tucked inside Jaskier's tree carry have carried over into the real world. Or maybe she will not, and they will find themselves exactly where they were months ago. Apart. He's no longer sure of anything these days, but the ground between them is at least solid enough that he can stand here in the first place, without so much of that painful ache that's followed them.
Jaskier will have to be the one to shatter the silence. ]
[ it is a strange reminder, yennefer has found, when new faces approach her at the castle. for decades, she spent her time and effort making herself as unapproachable as possible, whether it was in the court of aedern or in her years on the road, on her own mission and chasing after her own leads. she did not want these eyes looking to her, their basic needs and their childish problems were so far below her it hadn't mattered that she was supposed to be a consultant to the king. what mattered was that they were wasting her time. and yet now, over these last couple of years, yennefer has found herself directly in that place again - a name, shared around the castle. a directive, for those new summoned to look into.
at first she'd also been annoyed by it - wasn't that the position kylo and ronan preferred? to meet the new faces, to direct towards their goals? she had too much on her plate to also be welcoming newcomers, too many things she was researching, too much to keep up with court, with the larger issues of the summoned. but that was before she started coming across those in thorne who she did need to keep her eyes on. which led to her classes. which led to her further interest around the castle. and now that kylo and ronan are no longer in the picture, well.
all this to say, yennefer has just nearly become used to being approached. and while there is still that small spike of impatience, about how she doesn't want to be bothered, about how much time goes into these whole introduction speeches, she also realizes there aren't many of them left who can do this.
she has officially been within these castle walls the longest of any other summoned. that, she realizes, comes with more responsibilities. responsibilities that yennefer is away she's not quite ready to relinquish - because if the summoned lack in this, it leaves too much room for ambrose, or the queen, to fill. and that she's not ready to allow, either.
which is why, as soon as one of her alchemy classes lets out and she turns back to her desk, trying to think out what all she can accomplish before the end of the day and what she'll need to leave off for the next day, when her name rings out from the front of the room. she turns, her brow arched, not exactly uninviting but with an expectation that the what do you need? doesn't need to be spoken. and she does appear correct, as the woman approached down the main aisle of the room, she does speak her intention.
for a brief moment yennefer is struck by her - the white hair, which immediately brings an association she won't so much as consider while in the halls of this castle, and then her posture. a woman of the court, or rather, a court. she is a new face, a new summoned, and yennefer straightens from where she'd already been started on her next task.
you serves as an advisor to the queen - her intent is made more than clear, with that question, and yennefer straightens. ]
I do. [ though to what extent is always in question. ellya is not one to take advice in the first place, but she also has not yet been tried, her loyalties not needed to be tested. for now, though, the answer is simple enough. ] And you've come at a preferred time, I do not have any more classes today. You're a newly Summoned, then?
at first she'd also been annoyed by it - wasn't that the position kylo and ronan preferred? to meet the new faces, to direct towards their goals? she had too much on her plate to also be welcoming newcomers, too many things she was researching, too much to keep up with court, with the larger issues of the summoned. but that was before she started coming across those in thorne who she did need to keep her eyes on. which led to her classes. which led to her further interest around the castle. and now that kylo and ronan are no longer in the picture, well.
all this to say, yennefer has just nearly become used to being approached. and while there is still that small spike of impatience, about how she doesn't want to be bothered, about how much time goes into these whole introduction speeches, she also realizes there aren't many of them left who can do this.
she has officially been within these castle walls the longest of any other summoned. that, she realizes, comes with more responsibilities. responsibilities that yennefer is away she's not quite ready to relinquish - because if the summoned lack in this, it leaves too much room for ambrose, or the queen, to fill. and that she's not ready to allow, either.
which is why, as soon as one of her alchemy classes lets out and she turns back to her desk, trying to think out what all she can accomplish before the end of the day and what she'll need to leave off for the next day, when her name rings out from the front of the room. she turns, her brow arched, not exactly uninviting but with an expectation that the what do you need? doesn't need to be spoken. and she does appear correct, as the woman approached down the main aisle of the room, she does speak her intention.
for a brief moment yennefer is struck by her - the white hair, which immediately brings an association she won't so much as consider while in the halls of this castle, and then her posture. a woman of the court, or rather, a court. she is a new face, a new summoned, and yennefer straightens from where she'd already been started on her next task.
you serves as an advisor to the queen - her intent is made more than clear, with that question, and yennefer straightens. ]
I do. [ though to what extent is always in question. ellya is not one to take advice in the first place, but she also has not yet been tried, her loyalties not needed to be tested. for now, though, the answer is simple enough. ] And you've come at a preferred time, I do not have any more classes today. You're a newly Summoned, then?
( it is a conflicting thing, to have enough power to be recognized as something other than you — something greater than or less, but never entirely reaching the truth; just one myopic lens shifting in exchange for another.
rhaenyra, to a degree, had grown up expecting this — to most, she is more a representation of something (or was, until this abrupt uprooting); a spoiled princess, a rightful queen, or a reminder of a nation divided.
in thorne, she is nothing but herself, and that is a startling solitude to be ware of. not because she’d not had a a sense of self, shaped messy before this, but because that is all she has. a haphazard foundation.
all she has is the surety of her posture, and the masks to show she’s more collected than she feels. she twists at her hands, ringless and thus, absent of anything to fuss with in a show of nerves. she catches the gesture early, and stills, and keeps her attention focused on the woman in front of her instead.
(It’s the eyes. targaryen eyes, that telltale violet of old bloodlines. but she cannot think of home now.) )
I am, ( new, she thinks. new and lost and alone and she can only allow herself to be one of those things. a small incline of her head. ) I’m — Rhaenyra Targaryen. ( a brief pause, between her name. it’s a bizarre sort of freedom. no princess or queen, the latter of which seems a bitter title regardless. she cannot expect this world to receive her titles — there are no claims of her own to yield anything useful. she’s not so bold to think herself deserving of such entitlement here.
but, she’s long been made aware that she’s not entirely toothless, either, even without it all. it certainly feels like that now though, a hatchling unable to breathe even the smallest flame.
no — she is the blood of dragons. that flame is not to be doused. she takes a breath, and her voice is quiet, but steady. )
I’ve been here for a short time. And yet, Ive heard plenty in regards to the state of things, in this realm. ( a delicate topic to broach; ) The threat of war, amongst the kingdoms here.
As it has been made clear to me in no short a term that Her Grace is not one to entertain audience lightly, I seek a different avenue of information. ( the fact that this kingdom does have a queen, one it clearly accepts to at least some degree, is not lost to her. But it is not something that is at the forefront right now. she takes a small step forward, as if to strengthen her point of: ) If I may be direct —
Advisors tend to know more of the crown’s affairs than the crown itself. ( it isn’t just an empty appeal to yennefer; there’s a truth to it. she thinks of her father’s small councils. of Otto Hightower and his machinations. of larys strong whispering to Alicent, all under the nose of an ailing king, and his declared heir. Advisors know a side of things rulers do not. and whilst there has long existed some supposed shroud to the courtly social games — the necessity of indirectness — Rhaenyra wishes to take a different approach here. If she represents no one but herself, then she must speak as such. nothing that teeters too close to sedition — in that, she still has some care.
And if court life here rings so familiar, then it’s similarities must extend more than skin deep. )
I understand that — this is forthright of me. But I will risk imprudence if it allows me understanding, so that I may better address my purpose here, as Summoned, given all that they force me to leave behind. ( and thereby, some edge of truth. that edge of anger that hasn’t quite died down from the weeks, a hollow beast that stands guard of a worse feeling (fear).
still, she offers a small smile, searching. ) I hope, in that, we might find common ground.
rhaenyra, to a degree, had grown up expecting this — to most, she is more a representation of something (or was, until this abrupt uprooting); a spoiled princess, a rightful queen, or a reminder of a nation divided.
in thorne, she is nothing but herself, and that is a startling solitude to be ware of. not because she’d not had a a sense of self, shaped messy before this, but because that is all she has. a haphazard foundation.
all she has is the surety of her posture, and the masks to show she’s more collected than she feels. she twists at her hands, ringless and thus, absent of anything to fuss with in a show of nerves. she catches the gesture early, and stills, and keeps her attention focused on the woman in front of her instead.
(It’s the eyes. targaryen eyes, that telltale violet of old bloodlines. but she cannot think of home now.) )
I am, ( new, she thinks. new and lost and alone and she can only allow herself to be one of those things. a small incline of her head. ) I’m — Rhaenyra Targaryen. ( a brief pause, between her name. it’s a bizarre sort of freedom. no princess or queen, the latter of which seems a bitter title regardless. she cannot expect this world to receive her titles — there are no claims of her own to yield anything useful. she’s not so bold to think herself deserving of such entitlement here.
but, she’s long been made aware that she’s not entirely toothless, either, even without it all. it certainly feels like that now though, a hatchling unable to breathe even the smallest flame.
no — she is the blood of dragons. that flame is not to be doused. she takes a breath, and her voice is quiet, but steady. )
I’ve been here for a short time. And yet, Ive heard plenty in regards to the state of things, in this realm. ( a delicate topic to broach; ) The threat of war, amongst the kingdoms here.
As it has been made clear to me in no short a term that Her Grace is not one to entertain audience lightly, I seek a different avenue of information. ( the fact that this kingdom does have a queen, one it clearly accepts to at least some degree, is not lost to her. But it is not something that is at the forefront right now. she takes a small step forward, as if to strengthen her point of: ) If I may be direct —
Advisors tend to know more of the crown’s affairs than the crown itself. ( it isn’t just an empty appeal to yennefer; there’s a truth to it. she thinks of her father’s small councils. of Otto Hightower and his machinations. of larys strong whispering to Alicent, all under the nose of an ailing king, and his declared heir. Advisors know a side of things rulers do not. and whilst there has long existed some supposed shroud to the courtly social games — the necessity of indirectness — Rhaenyra wishes to take a different approach here. If she represents no one but herself, then she must speak as such. nothing that teeters too close to sedition — in that, she still has some care.
And if court life here rings so familiar, then it’s similarities must extend more than skin deep. )
I understand that — this is forthright of me. But I will risk imprudence if it allows me understanding, so that I may better address my purpose here, as Summoned, given all that they force me to leave behind. ( and thereby, some edge of truth. that edge of anger that hasn’t quite died down from the weeks, a hollow beast that stands guard of a worse feeling (fear).
still, she offers a small smile, searching. ) I hope, in that, we might find common ground.
[And what if he is crying! He knows what this means. There is -- well, there is still fear for her, in Thorne where she will always be surrounded by enemies, but fuck, when are they not? But with magic, there is defense. There is safety. And yes, Yennefer is wildly wicked and sort of fucked up, when one really gets down to it, but at this moment in time, they have --
They have an understanding. A very deep one, he thinks. About the things they have seen. Endured. (And how he made a promise to himself he would never stand by again and let what happened at the Seat of Friendship happen again. If he could stop it.)
Jaskier jumps when the door opens, not because he expects it to be Geralt but because he expects it to not. Mog is quiet in his usual lackadaisical way, long having made himself comfortable in Geralt's warm (and large) arms. He looks over his shoulder to see that it is, indeed, only Geralt.
Looking like --]
Oh, fuck no. Fuck no. We're not doing this. Not now! [He grabs Geralt's arm and pulls on him, and then Yennefer, and maybe Mog makes a startled sound and looks at him with a glare, but he's ignoring Mog, too.] Listen here. This is good news, no matter how we feel about each other. So for once in your wretched, lovelorn lives, could you, perhaps, genuinely allow yourselves to be happy to see each other? I know you heard, Geralt, because you've never made a single effort in your life to not eavesdrop, and this. Is. Good. Her magic is returning, and -- gods, let her be happy about it.
And you. [He turns on Yennefer before she can even begin to speak,] had better keep telling me this good news, because I've recently died and I am not letting you withhold any drop of goodness from me when I need it very desperately. Or else I'm going to lose my mind and I will make sure you both suffer through it with me.
[There. He's fixed it, for sure.]
They have an understanding. A very deep one, he thinks. About the things they have seen. Endured. (And how he made a promise to himself he would never stand by again and let what happened at the Seat of Friendship happen again. If he could stop it.)
Jaskier jumps when the door opens, not because he expects it to be Geralt but because he expects it to not. Mog is quiet in his usual lackadaisical way, long having made himself comfortable in Geralt's warm (and large) arms. He looks over his shoulder to see that it is, indeed, only Geralt.
Looking like --]
Oh, fuck no. Fuck no. We're not doing this. Not now! [He grabs Geralt's arm and pulls on him, and then Yennefer, and maybe Mog makes a startled sound and looks at him with a glare, but he's ignoring Mog, too.] Listen here. This is good news, no matter how we feel about each other. So for once in your wretched, lovelorn lives, could you, perhaps, genuinely allow yourselves to be happy to see each other? I know you heard, Geralt, because you've never made a single effort in your life to not eavesdrop, and this. Is. Good. Her magic is returning, and -- gods, let her be happy about it.
And you. [He turns on Yennefer before she can even begin to speak,] had better keep telling me this good news, because I've recently died and I am not letting you withhold any drop of goodness from me when I need it very desperately. Or else I'm going to lose my mind and I will make sure you both suffer through it with me.
[There. He's fixed it, for sure.]
Edited 2022-12-07 07:02 (UTC)
[ had it been any other month, any other time, yennefer probably would have already met the redhead. she does try, when she has the time and energy, to make sure she at least recognizes the other summoned. but between the recent disappearances, the fact her classes have started gaining traction again, not to mention the last singularity event and all it caused, well. it fell a little further down the priority list.
it’s why she doesn’t immediately shrug off the question - usually yennefer isn’t one to welcome distractions. she has too little time as it is. but when she realizes it’s a face she doesn’t yet know, and then remembers that the library is a place she can be found often enough, yennefer takes a friendlier approach. or, at least, that is her intention. who knows where it’ll end up.
so at the question, she exhales, her exhaustion genuine enough. ] No other choice, really. [ and then, thinking back on the last couple of days and the fact she’s almost certain she remembers seeing that red hair— ] You’re finished early.
it’s why she doesn’t immediately shrug off the question - usually yennefer isn’t one to welcome distractions. she has too little time as it is. but when she realizes it’s a face she doesn’t yet know, and then remembers that the library is a place she can be found often enough, yennefer takes a friendlier approach. or, at least, that is her intention. who knows where it’ll end up.
so at the question, she exhales, her exhaustion genuine enough. ] No other choice, really. [ and then, thinking back on the last couple of days and the fact she’s almost certain she remembers seeing that red hair— ] You’re finished early.
[ truthfully, it has come to a point where yennefer goes to the library to take a break from her other work. there is always research to be done, always more she can look into where it concerns the local flora or thorne and beyond, and books don’t require her to put on a certain air. a face that’s presentable.
she should know better, all things considered. she is just as likely to be found at the library as she is just about anywhere else. which means that anyone with questions, anyone looking to come find her, would most likely look first her classroom, and not there, here.
so, as the young woman - a new face, yennefer notes. someone she hasn’t met yet - approaches her, yennefer slips easily back into a presentation that has nearly become a second skin.
a small smile, as she shuts whatever book she’d already lost interest in. ] Yes, I am. But I don’t believe we’ve met?
she should know better, all things considered. she is just as likely to be found at the library as she is just about anywhere else. which means that anyone with questions, anyone looking to come find her, would most likely look first her classroom, and not there, here.
so, as the young woman - a new face, yennefer notes. someone she hasn’t met yet - approaches her, yennefer slips easily back into a presentation that has nearly become a second skin.
a small smile, as she shuts whatever book she’d already lost interest in. ] Yes, I am. But I don’t believe we’ve met?
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