[ so he has heard of the plan. and seems...unimpressed? unconvinced? with the plan the rest of the prisoners have seemed to resort to. part of her is surprised by that, if only because she would have taken him for the type to attempt an escape. to take that more violent route, especially considering the heightened tensions of the guards. yennefer spends the next few moments simply studying geralt, trying to find at least some of the answers to the multitude of questions she has for him.
it's the bard, then. that is what she falls on - geralt is worried for jaskier, so he won't make a move that could in any way jeopardize...what? jaskier's place at court? his safety? she supposes if jaskier has made it obvious how much he has invested in geralt's release...
his eyes are on her mouth, then, and yennefer's feels her thoughts still a bit under his gaze. whatever it is they have between them, or had between them, at another time, feels different in this place. she doesn't know if it's due to the circumstances themselves, or the time they's spent apart. the things she's done, the decisions she's made. without realizing what she's doing, yennefer steps back towards geralt again - closing the distance she'd created, like waves on the sand. away, and then back again. she doesn't want to consider the potential that if their magic is blocked here, what it has done to the wish. if the djinn's power is strong enough to withstand even that. because the pull she feels towards him even now is strong enough that she nearly, nearly feels herself lean into it. a hand, slowly drifting towards him, as if to reach out. except that even now she can't bring herself to do it.
( and with his eyes on her mouth and her's on his face, she wonders briefly if he will try to kiss her. they've been in this same place before, this same distance. she doesn't want him to - she doesn't think - but the thought still comes to her. )
then he leans back, and while she is still standing so close to him, the distance has been created once more. she doesn't step away, though, and her eyes are waiting for him, on him even still, when he finally looks back to her. ]
I am getting out of this prison, Geralt. [ yennefer's voice is low, tense. woven with desperation and determination and decisions being made, questions of him she won't ask aloud. ] Whatever it takes.
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it's the bard, then. that is what she falls on - geralt is worried for jaskier, so he won't make a move that could in any way jeopardize...what? jaskier's place at court? his safety? she supposes if jaskier has made it obvious how much he has invested in geralt's release...
his eyes are on her mouth, then, and yennefer's feels her thoughts still a bit under his gaze. whatever it is they have between them, or had between them, at another time, feels different in this place. she doesn't know if it's due to the circumstances themselves, or the time they's spent apart. the things she's done, the decisions she's made. without realizing what she's doing, yennefer steps back towards geralt again - closing the distance she'd created, like waves on the sand. away, and then back again. she doesn't want to consider the potential that if their magic is blocked here, what it has done to the wish. if the djinn's power is strong enough to withstand even that. because the pull she feels towards him even now is strong enough that she nearly, nearly feels herself lean into it. a hand, slowly drifting towards him, as if to reach out. except that even now she can't bring herself to do it.
( and with his eyes on her mouth and her's on his face, she wonders briefly if he will try to kiss her. they've been in this same place before, this same distance. she doesn't want him to - she doesn't think - but the thought still comes to her. )
then he leans back, and while she is still standing so close to him, the distance has been created once more. she doesn't step away, though, and her eyes are waiting for him, on him even still, when he finally looks back to her. ]
I am getting out of this prison, Geralt. [ yennefer's voice is low, tense. woven with desperation and determination and decisions being made, questions of him she won't ask aloud. ] Whatever it takes.