That doesn't mean I can't pamper you a bit in exchange of all the monster saving. Besides it just paints a better mental image if I sing about your hair being like the pale velvet winter moonlight instead of 'covered in mud and entrails, sometimes bits of bone too'.
Against all odds, not only did they survive the blizzard with their extremities intact, they did, in fact, head towards the coast a few days later. It caught Jaskier off guard even though he was the one who suggested that in the first place and that Geralt had promised him that they would go. He shouldn't have been surprised, the Witcher was a man of his word, the bard knew it for fact since the day they've met.
The day after the snowstorm, Jaskier expected things to be awkward, fearing that what they had shared in the cave would stay there. But Geralt was being....Geralt. Not much more talkative than before but not colder either. Sometimes Jaskier feels his gaze more intensely, the touches they share lingering for more than necessary, the conversations more honest. Or perhaps it's just his imagination. 'You smell like lust and longing' Geralt had told him, and Jaskier still has to prove him wrong. It's different than any other relationship he had before, but their partnership has always been one of a kind. It doesn't take a lot to get Jaskier to smile but nowadays those are more sincere, more open, and almost always directed at his white-haired companion.
The journey is not uneventful, never is. Jaskier almost pity the outlaws of Poviss, too used to steal and threaten rich merchants that rarely fight back, when they show up and try to intimidate a Witcher. By the time they get close to the sea, Jaskier had already composed two different ballads about foolish thieves and Geralt's strength. Usually, the men only end roughed up enough to teach them a lesson and leave. Geralt doesn't draw blood or kill unless he absolutely has to.
And other times, well...Perhaps yesterday Jaskier should have been more careful, paid more attention to the burly man approaching him from behind with a dagger, but the thief had moved fast. He can't fight to save his life, literally can't, and it sadly makes him an easy target. Luckily for Jaskier, and very unluckily for his attacker, Geralt moves faster than any person he's ever met. After that the bard added 'pointy weapons being pressed against his throat' to his top ten list of most offensive things to experience. The whole affair has been unpleasant, to say the least.
He's trying not to think much of it, getting in trouble is nothing new and it's still going to keep happening as they travel through the mountains. The locals they meet talk about a monster lurking near that lures men and women in mysterious ways, leaving behind dried corpses as if it had sucked the life out of them. Jaskier absently rubs at his neck, still somewhat shaken by the memory of cold metal pressed against his jugular, and walks closer to Geralt. Not only it feels safer, he likes to have an excuse to brush their hands together as they walk.
"What do you think it could be this time? A vampire? Or a bruxa? I think a farmer from the last town mentioned that it sung late at night. I didn't know other monsters aside from sirens could sing, that's professional infiltration. How rude."
What happened in that cave isn't something so easily ignored. Geralt could have pretended it never happened, could have insisted it was only for one evening, but he knew better than that. What Jaskier shared with him was genuine and he isn't so soulless as to crush the man's heart when he encourage the confession out of him to begin with. He's glad not much has changed on the road save for the bolder flirtations and occasional touch. In a way, he likes them, even if he is still growing accustomed to it all. Geralt still isn't used to anyone needing him let alone wanting him.
So they're headed to the beach. After their long journey thus far, they deserve some time to do as they wish. Since when did Geralt start to think of his path in the context of two people and not only himself? Poviss is far north but the beaches are worth the trouble. It's more secluded as well. The road there is never simple and he's quick to defend their little traveling group (as in, Jaskier and Roach) though the way it pleases Jaskier even more to be saved by the witcher is quite obvious, and Geralt's defensive nature is quicker to act. Jaskier's singing is merrier, his steps lighter, and he's even gotten so bold as to reach for Geralt's hand... like right now.
"Hmm, I have a couple ideas," he admits, though usually the testimonies from scared locals don't help as much as they spread misinformation. Geralt has learned to read between the lines where he can. As they walk his finger catches on one of Jaskier's in a gentle slide before letting go. "Bruxae don't sing pleasant songs and there were attacks during the day too. Most of the corpses died of pure exhaustion."
The protectiveness within decides to rear its head once more and Geralt unknowingly steps closer to Jaskier as a result, as if his mere presence can protect him. "Don't worry, I've never heard anyone who sounds like you." Though with the dry humor who knows if Geralt is being honest or kidding?
I apologize. I didn't realize you were speaking of Witchers. Not that I have ever met one but I understand they do important work, even if their reputation precedes them. But I have learned reputations can be deceptive.
Wei Wuxian. The son of a servant but fostered by a great family, and considered one of the most gifted young masters in our lands. He stood against everyone and sacrificed the life he knew to protect those who couldn't protect themselves.
[ ooc: Starter here, "I just did some calculations, and I’ve been able to determine that you’re full of shit." ]
How? Since we are on the topic of having fun and relaxing, why don't you tell me what you do to accomplish that? Unless you need me to describe 'fun' to you.
[ ooc: Starter here, "I woke up with a giant paw print on the side of my face, scratches down my back, my jaw hurts, and I have no memory of last night." ]
[ ooc. Starter here.'Can you confirm that you aren't dead?' ]
Gross, I think I'll pass. The secret of eternal youth can remain a mystery. I think I'm doing pretty well on my own for my age without any kind of magic involved.
[ He might be a fool but not that gullible. ]
It's not really choice when both choice suck, isn't it? Like choosing between two evils. And I'm not sulking, I can live perfectly fine without him around. It's just...life's duller. [ Lonelier, he means, but Yennefer doesn't need more ammunition against him. ]
[Geralt knows that he will be coming back to potentially some trouble, considering he was in a tavern listening to Jaskier when a letter came for him. He smelled her immediately on it and sighed, knowing that she was always able to find him wherever. They had a little business to discuss so he very shortly informed the bard of where he was going, it wasn't far, and with who. He didn't want to pretend later, it seemed wiser to get that out of the way early. And yes, despite everything, despite the complicated relationship he and Yennefer shared, he did tend to drop everything to run after her.
After a terse discussion which did turn out to be helpful regarding a monster in the area, she came close to him and for a moment, he lost his head. He will never fully be out of her spell, destiny's spell. Her perfume surrounded him and he found himself in her bed, her mouth on his, his shirt undone, her hands everywhere, but before anything more happened some instinct of his said No! so loudly that he practically leaped out of her embrace. He'd like to say that it was his self-preservation, but he knew exactly what it was. He hasn't slept with another person since he and Jaskier became daily lovers.
Yen took one look at him and did her witch intuition, and she laughed at him, somewhat cruelly, somewhat not. Geralt, I thought you wiser than that. He flinched, picking up his weapons. The cruelty shifted and she was serious when she stopped him at the door. He wanted her, he felt that tug, they never said they couldn't have someone else. But he couldn't. There are only two ways this ends, you know that. Either he dies old in his bed far away from you, or he dies younger in your arms. He's a mortal. He's not like us. There is true wisdom in that he understands, but he pulled away and left her.
The words haunt him on his short journey back. Obviously, she is right. And it is impossible to keep convincing himself none of it matters when he just turned down a lover with her nails in him. The honesty is out there now, lacking the ability for the same denial, but it is no less concerning. Still, what Geralt does is go straight back to the room he shares with Jaskier. He doesn't go downstairs to see if the bard is still performing or carousing, he likely is. He feels like he needs a bit of time to mull over his thoughts. To brood, as Jaskier would say.
Geralt bathes to try and get her smell off him, but it is impossible and he knows that. Gooseberries follows him afterward, cloying and sweet, and her taste is still in his mouth although he's trying to cover it with ale. He doesn't linger long and ends up back at their bed, casually clothed and sharpening his knives as he waits for Jaskier. He is very weary though, not sure he's in the mood for nonsense and pouting. But it has to be done.
He's not like us. No, he isn't. And that is why this is all so damned complicated.]
The most frustrating part at the end of the day would be the realization that they did everything right.
They haven't even been in the new town for 15 minutes when they're being called to meet with the town's mayor about their monster issue. Something big, violent and hairy had taken residence in the abandoned mansion by the city outskirts, attacking at night and leaving exsanguinated corpses behind. No guard, knight or mercenary had returned from the mansion and the corpses kept piling up.
It doesn't take Geralt more than 2 minutes to realize the man is talking about a vampire, most likely a Katakan or a bruxae, and takes the contract. They have four hours ahead of them before the sun starts to set and it's better to hunt these kinds of creatures during daytime, when they natural healing factor doesn't kick is as quicky.
Geralt is insistent about Jaskier not following him further once they get into the mansion. It's huge, dark and creepy looking, smelling of dried blood and rotting wood. A vampire can move really fast and would be on the bard before they even notice that the shadows on the wall aren't just that. Geralt tells him to stay put in the foyer and Jaskier, in an uncharacteristic bout of common sense, listens.
Before gettign deeper into the bowels of the mansion, Geralt uses Igni to light up the candles on the walls and illuminate the foyer. Not all the windows are broken, which makes it easier for Jaskier to tell if anything nonhuman that doesn't have a reflection approaches him. Not like he's about to sit there and look if anybody who isn't Geralt comes to meet him. He's going to miss seeing the action but he can already hear it, first some hissing followed by unintelligible shared words. Geralt always tries to talk the monster down first. If possible, he likes to settle the issue without carnage. The low snarl reverberating across the halls tells Jaskier that it didn't work this time.
There are snarls and grunts above him, the vampire and Geralt now fighting on the second floor. Jaskier knows, deep down, that the Witcher will be fine, that a vampire is nothing against him. Knowing does nothing to quell his anxiety. The Katakan is putting up a good fight, Jaskier is familiar enough with the sounds of fighting to tell when someone is hitting a wall, when a door is ripped off its hinges and when Geralt starts using spells.
He's not familiar with the sound of a centuries-old ceiling caving in until it's happening. After the deafening crack, Jaskier only has a second to raise his arms over his head and try to duck for cover. There's an ominous rumble, a monster's screech and Geralt swearing. Jaskier doesn't know what happens after that, only the pain registers and he blacks out.
Waking up when the sun is barely peeking over the mountains on the horizon is a crime and Jaskier reminds Geralt of that fact while rubbing at his eyes. Washing his face to try and chase away the last remains of sleep doesn't help much, it only makes him shudder in the chill air of the morning. The glare he would sure get from his companion is the only thing stopping the bard from going back to his all too thin bedroll and hide under the blankets to doze for at least another 3 hours.
Breakfast is quick and quiet, Geralt clearly doesn't want to waste much time and Jaskier is for once silent, his still half-asleep brain unable to come up with something witty to say but conjuring up far too many sarcastic comments. He looks around the small clear they have set by a nearby stream, noticing that Roach hasn't roused. She's still curled on herself by a nearby tree, calmly sleep. Jaskier never thought he would be jealous of a horse and yet...he distracts himself by pulling out from his boot the dagger Geralt had given him a few days ago. He holds it in both hands and turns it over, like it's something precious, watching the light of dawn catching on the sharpened edge. The hilt isn't decorated or anything of the sort, the whole dagger is made for lethal efficiency and not to show off. A bit like Geralt himself and it's a though that gets the younger man to smile.
Geralt has ordered suggested him to wear something worn out and dark for their training, both concepts unheard of when it comes to Jaskier's wardrobe. He put on the closest thing that fit the request, a navy blue doublet that he keeps unlaced over a dark grey, embroidered shirt, and matching navy breeches that lace from behind, over the small of his back. Jaskier might first have chosen the outfit because it went nicely with his eyes and the pants were easy to unfast but the clothes were also comfortable to wear and easy to run in. He always made sure of that last fact.
Roach has started to stir by the time they gather their things and move towards the nearby clear. Trees with smooth white bark stood all around them, circling a patch of grass, among a few scattered large rocks and roots. Jaskier's artistic soul notices the look lovely in contrast to the bright green and he could see the nearby river in the distance, overhear it without the advantages of Geralt's enhanced senses. Oh, the things they could be doing here, composing, talking, kissing...but no, the Witcher had to drag him out of bed at the ass crack of dawn for some training. Geralt is lucky that Jaskier loves to indulge him, no that it will stop him from complaining.
He spins the - still in its sheathe- dagger with one hand. It's the only trick he knows because it isn't that different from twirling drumming sticks and Jaskier had learned to do that when he was fine. He also does it to see Geralt's reaction, although he doesn't expect a noticeable one.
"So, where do we start? You try to tackle me and I undoubtedly end with my pretty ass on the floor? Because there are easier and more pleasant ways to get me on my back with you bobbing about between my spread legs."
Their plans to continue their romantic journey came to a very abrupt end when Geralt and Ciri finally found one another. Yennefer and Jaskier's words did eventually catch up to him, and when he finally held his Child Surprise in his arms, he felt a calm and completion that he didn't know he was lacking. He listened to Ciri's story in rapt attention and of course introduced her to Jaskier, who later on told her the dramatic story about how they were there that important night when her parents finally got married.
Ciri's admission that she inherited her mother's gift immediately left Geralt somber and he knew then they had to go to Kaer Morhen. It had been some time since he was home and it was supposed to be a secret location, known and used only by their kind, but he was not about to hand Ciri over to any magic users either. She was his.
He took to sudden fatherhood awkwardly. Geralt's never been good with being open with his heart and a child required more of it. Jaskier's done a great job at softening him, but a lot of the emotional kindness and support did come easier from the bard. Geralt felt romantic love, but not this before. The journey home was not a fast one and with three people it took slightly longer, so he had the two of them train on the way there, in very basic combat. It solved two birds with one stone, giving Jaskier someone to play off of who wasn't better than him.
The thing was, they had no alone time. Ciri was always there or nearby, either in their tent or a tent nearby, and Geralt definitely missed their sex, it wasn't as if his desire went away. No he wanted the bard even more, typically the addition of when he was kind to his child, Geralt's eyes flashed with want of a different kind. But any hushed attempts to convince him they could stay quiet only got an anxious look and a refusal. She might hear us! he whispered firmly, and that paranoia kept him focused on other things. He did not make a secret about their bond to Ciri, but it was very chaste.
When they finally arrived at Kaer Morhen he brought them in and gave challenging looks to anyone who gave him a wary look. Vesemir welcomed them though, a question in his eyes since he knows Geralt like no other. Jaskier and Ciri were given a tour while they had a very discreet and direct talk about what he was thinking, and that solved that problem. Ciri had a way about her; her enthusiasm softening the uncertainty of his kin.
She, however, got her own room. A very decent room and this was officially the safest place he knew, so she was not required to be within screaming distance of him. At least not her ears version of screaming, for him she could yelp and he'd still know about it, so very in-tune with her. But after the exhaustion of the road and excitement of being there, she was resting soon, and he was able to return to his room where he directed Jaskier too.
It still stayed the same. Weapons and potions strewn about. A few books. No one had been in there since he left, so it may be a little dusty. He feels strange about them being there, about so much in his life changing since the time he left, and now having Jaskier in his most personal of spaces. He closes the door and is oddly shy about it, dropping some of their travel belongings in the corner for now. "I know it is a little sparse."
The 2 hours time frame he had given Geralt is almost due and Jaskier is moving around their shared room getting everything ready. Or rather, getting himself ready. It had taken him a whole hour to find a shop that sold a leather collar with lace in the right shade of blue Geralt might like. Then he had to get some beer, decent one and not the goat's piss they served at the tavern, go back to their room and lit a few candles to set the mood. It's still daytime but the bard thinks that the light scent of the candles might help Geralt's nose. One of the downsides of being in an actual big city was the array of different smells and Jaskier feels bad just imagining the stress Geralt's enhanced sense might be under all the time.
Jaskier puts on the pair of white stockings he had told the Witcher about, but instead of a gold ribbon to match, they came with embroidered gold flowers at the top, hugging his mid-thighs. They look new because Jaskier never really wore them while traveling with Geralt. Too delicate and not suite for the dusty road but he likes how shapely they made his legs look. Gold colored flowers in the stockings to match the nice shade of his yellow silk shirt, Jaskier once made sure to be looking into Geralt's s eyes when he explained that it was his favorite color. At last, he puts on a white pair of delicate, frilly smallclothes that took some time to find on his size, and nothing else, not bothering with actual pants. The brunette looks at himself in the mirror and smiles briefly. Geralt better appreciates his efforts.
As Jaskier lays down on the bed, fidgeting with the leather collar in his hands, insecurity rears its ugly head. What if Geralt thinks it's all ridiculous? Would he laugh at him? It would hardly be the first time one of his lovers decided that humiliating him was more fun but Geralt has never been like that. He will have to wait for the man to come and see his reaction.
[ The human bard (not to be mistaken with a Bard) and his singing is one of the first things the Nein experiences when they enter the inn after dark, along with a room full of curious stares and a hearty round at the bar. Following a day of battling monsters, Fjord is aching all over and slumps in his chair by the hearth that their group commandeers in short order, picking at one of the roasted chickens that the servers bring out to their motley table. Once he's fed and watered, he finally pays attention to the song filling the room and then, inevitably, the human who owns the pretty voice. It really is a good voice too, something that can't be said for every bard in every town, and after hours fighting creatures that wanted to eat him and his friends, Fjord indulges in admiring the handsome human a bit longer than the songs allow.
The bard inevitably notices and introduces himself to their table with a friendly, open disposition that Fjord finds charming in the moment. He's always been the most attracted to forthright types with a pretty smile so it's all too easy to flirt with Jaskier, as he calls himself, and invite him up to his room to finish his drink. Fjord finished his a while ago, not the most subtle of half-orcs as his gaze flicks between the human's soft mouth and batting lashes, and he's too exhausted to tiptoe around what he wants; Jaskier's sharp enough to get the message, he thinks, leading him upstairs.
Gods, he hopes the guy is. It's been a while (long enough for two tusks to grown back in, specifically), since Fjord did this. ]
[ Another town, another inn, and another chance to spread the word about the White Wolf. Geralt wasn't around, busy helping the locals get rid of a pair of drowners terrorizing the river, but Jaskier wasn't worried either. That kind of job was easy compared to their usual category of monsters and he knew that Geralt would be back by the morning. In the meantime, Jaskier had been singing all sorts of songs, from ballads to more raunchy ones, getting them some much-needed extra coin.
By the end of his performance, he was still buzzing with pent up energy, chatting with the patrons and keeping an eye on the muscular man with the pretty green skin. Before it even registered that his feet were moving, Jaskier found himself by the man's side, smiling and chatting him up, wanting to know more about him. A little later, as he follows Fjord up to his room, the bruntte ponders if he clearly has a type when it comes to men and if having golden eyes it's a deal-breaker.
Not like the rest of the warriors isn't fascinating. Jaskier has to fight the urge to reach out and brush his hand over Fjord's cheek, to nuzzle his neck and kiss his jawline. He manages to keep his hands to himself until they're finally away from prying eyes and in the comfort of the other man's room. Jaskier leaves his lute on the flor carefully, by the door, and turns to him, an easy smile on his face and mischief in his eyes. ]
Gods, are you tall... [ Going by the hearty tone held on the bard's voice, it's far from a complaint He has to stand a little on his tiptoes when he comes close and brushes his lips against Fjord's, close, so very close, but not yet kissing him. ] And such sharp fangs. [ Again, not a complaint. ]
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givingexposition) wrote2020-01-03 11:55 pm
TFLN @ lastwishes
Well...no. You're my muse.
That doesn't mean I can't pamper you a bit in exchange of all the monster saving. Besides it just paints a better mental image if I sing about your hair being like the pale velvet winter moonlight instead of 'covered in mud and entrails, sometimes bits of bone too'.
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Closed to @ lastwishes
The day after the snowstorm, Jaskier expected things to be awkward, fearing that what they had shared in the cave would stay there. But Geralt was being....Geralt. Not much more talkative than before but not colder either. Sometimes Jaskier feels his gaze more intensely, the touches they share lingering for more than necessary, the conversations more honest. Or perhaps it's just his imagination. 'You smell like lust and longing' Geralt had told him, and Jaskier still has to prove him wrong. It's different than any other relationship he had before, but their partnership has always been one of a kind. It doesn't take a lot to get Jaskier to smile but nowadays those are more sincere, more open, and almost always directed at his white-haired companion.
The journey is not uneventful, never is. Jaskier almost pity the outlaws of Poviss, too used to steal and threaten rich merchants that rarely fight back, when they show up and try to intimidate a Witcher. By the time they get close to the sea, Jaskier had already composed two different ballads about foolish thieves and Geralt's strength. Usually, the men only end roughed up enough to teach them a lesson and leave. Geralt doesn't draw blood or kill unless he absolutely has to.
And other times, well...Perhaps yesterday Jaskier should have been more careful, paid more attention to the burly man approaching him from behind with a dagger, but the thief had moved fast. He can't fight to save his life, literally can't, and it sadly makes him an easy target. Luckily for Jaskier, and very unluckily for his attacker, Geralt moves faster than any person he's ever met. After that the bard added 'pointy weapons being pressed against his throat' to his top ten list of most offensive things to experience. The whole affair has been unpleasant, to say the least.
He's trying not to think much of it, getting in trouble is nothing new and it's still going to keep happening as they travel through the mountains. The locals they meet talk about a monster lurking near that lures men and women in mysterious ways, leaving behind dried corpses as if it had sucked the life out of them. Jaskier absently rubs at his neck, still somewhat shaken by the memory of cold metal pressed against his jugular, and walks closer to Geralt. Not only it feels safer, he likes to have an excuse to brush their hands together as they walk.
"What do you think it could be this time? A vampire? Or a bruxa? I think a farmer from the last town mentioned that it sung late at night. I didn't know other monsters aside from sirens could sing, that's professional infiltration. How rude."
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So they're headed to the beach. After their long journey thus far, they deserve some time to do as they wish. Since when did Geralt start to think of his path in the context of two people and not only himself? Poviss is far north but the beaches are worth the trouble. It's more secluded as well. The road there is never simple and he's quick to defend their little traveling group (as in, Jaskier and Roach) though the way it pleases Jaskier even more to be saved by the witcher is quite obvious, and Geralt's defensive nature is quicker to act. Jaskier's singing is merrier, his steps lighter, and he's even gotten so bold as to reach for Geralt's hand... like right now.
"Hmm, I have a couple ideas," he admits, though usually the testimonies from scared locals don't help as much as they spread misinformation. Geralt has learned to read between the lines where he can. As they walk his finger catches on one of Jaskier's in a gentle slide before letting go. "Bruxae don't sing pleasant songs and there were attacks during the day too. Most of the corpses died of pure exhaustion."
The protectiveness within decides to rear its head once more and Geralt unknowingly steps closer to Jaskier as a result, as if his mere presence can protect him. "Don't worry, I've never heard anyone who sounds like you." Though with the dry humor who knows if Geralt is being honest or kidding?
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TFLN @ radishlobbyist
Talk to horses...?
[ Wait.
!!!! ]
Witchers aren't monster! They're just strong and a little bit scary but everything they do is to protect others.
It's hard to find a good one among so many rotten apples. Who was that honourable not-lord?
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Wei Wuxian. The son of a servant but fostered by a great family, and considered one of the most gifted young masters in our lands. He stood against everyone and sacrificed the life he knew to protect those who couldn't protect themselves.
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TFLN @ Rivias
How? Since we are on the topic of having fun and relaxing, why don't you tell me what you do to accomplish that? Unless you need me to describe 'fun' to you.
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Drinking.
Meditating.
Training exercises.
Fucking.
Cleaning and sharpening my sword.
Grooming Roach.
See. I can relax.
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TFLN @ lastwishes
Why next time? Are you that busy now?
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TFLN @ chaoticpiglet
Gross, I think I'll pass. The secret of eternal youth can remain a mystery. I think I'm doing pretty well on my own for my age without any kind of magic involved.
[ He might be a fool but not that gullible. ]
It's not really choice when both choice suck, isn't it? Like choosing between two evils. And I'm not sulking, I can live perfectly fine without him around. It's just...life's duller. [ Lonelier, he means, but Yennefer doesn't need more ammunition against him. ]
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[ It's really a pity. She'd have tossed a coin at him to see it.
But see, ammunition or not, she understands. The comment hits a little too close to home. ]
Sounds like you need a new adventure. Without any burly men.
[ Is that an invitation? You best believe it. ]
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These two are the reason why people call the witcher R-rated Xena the Warrior Princess tbh
/It's true and they should say it/
EMBRACE IT
ヽ(*・ω・)ﾉ YAS
https://imgur.com/9S99xJz C:
Oh no, that is adorable. My heart.
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@kindersurprise
Ah, but that's not how it works. You save my life when we are in danger and I look after you when we aren't. That's what we do.
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@ lastwishes
You say that now but once there's only Roach quiet pacing and the boring forest sounds to keep you company, I'm sure you'll change your mind.
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@yourwitcher
[ He huffed at that. ] Wanker.
I wouldn't say that you are supposed to do anything. [ But he wouldn't react badly to Geralt doing that. ]
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They are dramatic bitches the continuation
After a terse discussion which did turn out to be helpful regarding a monster in the area, she came close to him and for a moment, he lost his head. He will never fully be out of her spell, destiny's spell. Her perfume surrounded him and he found himself in her bed, her mouth on his, his shirt undone, her hands everywhere, but before anything more happened some instinct of his said No! so loudly that he practically leaped out of her embrace. He'd like to say that it was his self-preservation, but he knew exactly what it was. He hasn't slept with another person since he and Jaskier became daily lovers.
Yen took one look at him and did her witch intuition, and she laughed at him, somewhat cruelly, somewhat not. Geralt, I thought you wiser than that. He flinched, picking up his weapons. The cruelty shifted and she was serious when she stopped him at the door. He wanted her, he felt that tug, they never said they couldn't have someone else. But he couldn't. There are only two ways this ends, you know that. Either he dies old in his bed far away from you, or he dies younger in your arms. He's a mortal. He's not like us. There is true wisdom in that he understands, but he pulled away and left her.
The words haunt him on his short journey back. Obviously, she is right. And it is impossible to keep convincing himself none of it matters when he just turned down a lover with her nails in him. The honesty is out there now, lacking the ability for the same denial, but it is no less concerning. Still, what Geralt does is go straight back to the room he shares with Jaskier. He doesn't go downstairs to see if the bard is still performing or carousing, he likely is. He feels like he needs a bit of time to mull over his thoughts. To brood, as Jaskier would say.
Geralt bathes to try and get her smell off him, but it is impossible and he knows that. Gooseberries follows him afterward, cloying and sweet, and her taste is still in his mouth although he's trying to cover it with ale. He doesn't linger long and ends up back at their bed, casually clothed and sharpening his knives as he waits for Jaskier. He is very weary though, not sure he's in the mood for nonsense and pouting. But it has to be done.
He's not like us. No, he isn't. And that is why this is all so damned complicated.]
It takes a special kind of talent
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Third time's a charm
They haven't even been in the new town for 15 minutes when they're being called to meet with the town's mayor about their monster issue. Something big, violent and hairy had taken residence in the abandoned mansion by the city outskirts, attacking at night and leaving exsanguinated corpses behind. No guard, knight or mercenary had returned from the mansion and the corpses kept piling up.
It doesn't take Geralt more than 2 minutes to realize the man is talking about a vampire, most likely a Katakan or a bruxae, and takes the contract. They have four hours ahead of them before the sun starts to set and it's better to hunt these kinds of creatures during daytime, when they natural healing factor doesn't kick is as quicky.
Geralt is insistent about Jaskier not following him further once they get into the mansion. It's huge, dark and creepy looking, smelling of dried blood and rotting wood. A vampire can move really fast and would be on the bard before they even notice that the shadows on the wall aren't just that. Geralt tells him to stay put in the foyer and Jaskier, in an uncharacteristic bout of common sense, listens.
Before gettign deeper into the bowels of the mansion, Geralt uses Igni to light up the candles on the walls and illuminate the foyer. Not all the windows are broken, which makes it easier for Jaskier to tell if anything nonhuman that doesn't have a reflection approaches him. Not like he's about to sit there and look if anybody who isn't Geralt comes to meet him. He's going to miss seeing the action but he can already hear it, first some hissing followed by unintelligible shared words. Geralt always tries to talk the monster down first. If possible, he likes to settle the issue without carnage. The low snarl reverberating across the halls tells Jaskier that it didn't work this time.
There are snarls and grunts above him, the vampire and Geralt now fighting on the second floor. Jaskier knows, deep down, that the Witcher will be fine, that a vampire is nothing against him. Knowing does nothing to quell his anxiety. The Katakan is putting up a good fight, Jaskier is familiar enough with the sounds of fighting to tell when someone is hitting a wall, when a door is ripped off its hinges and when Geralt starts using spells.
He's not familiar with the sound of a centuries-old ceiling caving in until it's happening. After the deafening crack, Jaskier only has a second to raise his arms over his head and try to duck for cover. There's an ominous rumble, a monster's screech and Geralt swearing. Jaskier doesn't know what happens after that, only the pain registers and he blacks out.
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@Risin' up, back on the street, Did my time, took my chances.
Breakfast is quick and quiet, Geralt clearly doesn't want to waste much time and Jaskier is for once silent, his still half-asleep brain unable to come up with something witty to say but conjuring up far too many sarcastic comments. He looks around the small clear they have set by a nearby stream, noticing that Roach hasn't roused. She's still curled on herself by a nearby tree, calmly sleep. Jaskier never thought he would be jealous of a horse and yet...he distracts himself by pulling out from his boot the dagger Geralt had given him a few days ago. He holds it in both hands and turns it over, like it's something precious, watching the light of dawn catching on the sharpened edge. The hilt isn't decorated or anything of the sort, the whole dagger is made for lethal efficiency and not to show off. A bit like Geralt himself and it's a though that gets the younger man to smile.
Geralt has
orderedsuggested him to wear something worn out and dark for their training, both concepts unheard of when it comes to Jaskier's wardrobe. He put on the closest thing that fit the request, a navy blue doublet that he keeps unlaced over a dark grey, embroidered shirt, and matching navy breeches that lace from behind, over the small of his back. Jaskier might first have chosen the outfit because it went nicely with his eyes and the pants were easy to unfast but the clothes were also comfortable to wear and easy to run in. He always made sure of that last fact.Roach has started to stir by the time they gather their things and move towards the nearby clear. Trees with smooth white bark stood all around them, circling a patch of grass, among a few scattered large rocks and roots. Jaskier's artistic soul notices the look lovely in contrast to the bright green and he could see the nearby river in the distance, overhear it without the advantages of Geralt's enhanced senses. Oh, the things they could be doing here, composing, talking, kissing...but no, the Witcher had to drag him out of bed at the ass crack of dawn for some training. Geralt is lucky that Jaskier loves to indulge him, no that it will stop him from complaining.
He spins the - still in its sheathe- dagger with one hand. It's the only trick he knows because it isn't that different from twirling drumming sticks and Jaskier had learned to do that when he was fine. He also does it to see Geralt's reaction, although he doesn't expect a noticeable one.
"So, where do we start? You try to tackle me and I undoubtedly end with my pretty ass on the floor? Because there are easier and more pleasant ways to get me on my back with you bobbing about between my spread legs."
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AS DISCUSSED Kaer Morhen
Ciri's admission that she inherited her mother's gift immediately left Geralt somber and he knew then they had to go to Kaer Morhen. It had been some time since he was home and it was supposed to be a secret location, known and used only by their kind, but he was not about to hand Ciri over to any magic users either. She was his.
He took to sudden fatherhood awkwardly. Geralt's never been good with being open with his heart and a child required more of it. Jaskier's done a great job at softening him, but a lot of the emotional kindness and support did come easier from the bard. Geralt felt romantic love, but not this before. The journey home was not a fast one and with three people it took slightly longer, so he had the two of them train on the way there, in very basic combat. It solved two birds with one stone, giving Jaskier someone to play off of who wasn't better than him.
The thing was, they had no alone time. Ciri was always there or nearby, either in their tent or a tent nearby, and Geralt definitely missed their sex, it wasn't as if his desire went away. No he wanted the bard even more, typically the addition of when he was kind to his child, Geralt's eyes flashed with want of a different kind. But any hushed attempts to convince him they could stay quiet only got an anxious look and a refusal. She might hear us! he whispered firmly, and that paranoia kept him focused on other things. He did not make a secret about their bond to Ciri, but it was very chaste.
When they finally arrived at Kaer Morhen he brought them in and gave challenging looks to anyone who gave him a wary look. Vesemir welcomed them though, a question in his eyes since he knows Geralt like no other. Jaskier and Ciri were given a tour while they had a very discreet and direct talk about what he was thinking, and that solved that problem. Ciri had a way about her; her enthusiasm softening the uncertainty of his kin.
She, however, got her own room. A very decent room and this was officially the safest place he knew, so she was not required to be within screaming distance of him. At least not her ears version of screaming, for him she could yelp and he'd still know about it, so very in-tune with her. But after the exhaustion of the road and excitement of being there, she was resting soon, and he was able to return to his room where he directed Jaskier too.
It still stayed the same. Weapons and potions strewn about. A few books. No one had been in there since he left, so it may be a little dusty. He feels strange about them being there, about so much in his life changing since the time he left, and now having Jaskier in his most personal of spaces. He closes the door and is oddly shy about it, dropping some of their travel belongings in the corner for now. "I know it is a little sparse."
♥!
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@lastwishes
And what if you trip and stab yourself with your own sword? Let's both agree to be careful and not think too deeply about all the 'what ifs'.
Fine, oh ye of little faith.
I wasn't thinking about that until you suggested it.
Some time later
Jaskier puts on the pair of white stockings he had told the Witcher about, but instead of a gold ribbon to match, they came with embroidered gold flowers at the top, hugging his mid-thighs. They look new because Jaskier never really wore them while traveling with Geralt. Too delicate and not suite for the dusty road but he likes how shapely they made his legs look. Gold colored flowers in the stockings to match the nice shade of his yellow silk shirt, Jaskier once made sure to be looking into Geralt's s eyes when he explained that it was his favorite color. At last, he puts on a white pair of delicate, frilly smallclothes that took some time to find on his size, and nothing else, not bothering with actual pants. The brunette looks at himself in the mirror and smiles briefly. Geralt better appreciates his efforts.
As Jaskier lays down on the bed, fidgeting with the leather collar in his hands, insecurity rears its ugly head. What if Geralt thinks it's all ridiculous? Would he laugh at him? It would hardly be the first time one of his lovers decided that humiliating him was more fun but Geralt has never been like that. He will have to wait for the man to come and see his reaction.
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( witcher/critrole crossover-verse )
The bard inevitably notices and introduces himself to their table with a friendly, open disposition that Fjord finds charming in the moment. He's always been the most attracted to forthright types with a pretty smile so it's all too easy to flirt with Jaskier, as he calls himself, and invite him up to his room to finish his drink. Fjord finished his a while ago, not the most subtle of half-orcs as his gaze flicks between the human's soft mouth and batting lashes, and he's too exhausted to tiptoe around what he wants; Jaskier's sharp enough to get the message, he thinks, leading him upstairs.
Gods, he hopes the guy is. It's been a while (long enough for two tusks to grown back in, specifically), since Fjord did this. ]
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By the end of his performance, he was still buzzing with pent up energy, chatting with the patrons and keeping an eye on the muscular man with the pretty green skin. Before it even registered that his feet were moving, Jaskier found himself by the man's side, smiling and chatting him up, wanting to know more about him. A little later, as he follows Fjord up to his room, the bruntte ponders if he clearly has a type when it comes to men and if having golden eyes it's a deal-breaker.
Not like the rest of the warriors isn't fascinating. Jaskier has to fight the urge to reach out and brush his hand over Fjord's cheek, to nuzzle his neck and kiss his jawline. He manages to keep his hands to himself until they're finally away from prying eyes and in the comfort of the other man's room. Jaskier leaves his lute on the flor carefully, by the door, and turns to him, an easy smile on his face and mischief in his eyes. ]
Gods, are you tall... [ Going by the hearty tone held on the bard's voice, it's far from a complaint He has to stand a little on his tiptoes when he comes close and brushes his lips against Fjord's, close, so very close, but not yet kissing him. ] And such sharp fangs. [ Again, not a complaint. ]
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@chaffed
[ :D ]
Then show me.
[ Is that a challenge? you bet. ]
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LMAO
/tips hat/ :'>
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