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blessedsilence) wrote2020-01-01 06:34 pm
blessedsilence) wrote2020-01-01 06:34 pm
open post.
feel free to post up your own starter! images, quotes, whatever really. let's have some fun.
feel free to post up your own starter! images, quotes, whatever really. let's have some fun.
<3
Geralt is wrong, however, in that this is a stranger. And Jaskierās had felt a painful, small squeeze of his heart when heād seen him, recognized Roach and- another horse? One he didnāt know. Another mare, which had made him snort since he seemed to favor those. His mind had been going a mile an hour, the cloak hastily placed on as he tried to decide if pretending to be someone else could avoid the awkwardness- but the moment Geralt reaches for his sword he knows thatās not an option anymore.
So he reaches to take his cloak off, forcing his eyes to glare with an anger he isnāt even sure he feels, anymore. Right now, upon seeing the man heād once called friend, all he can feel is hurt.]
Anything else you want to take from me, Geralt?
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If pressed later he might argue that there was not a tremor to his sword hand when the hood came away from the traveler's face. Ciri is riding her mare. She seemed to find it amusing that he called his own something so simple and took after it. Cricket, she insisted, as she seemed to chirp more than bray.
The anger in his eyes, whether felt or not in the moment, runs through him easier than any blade could. He deserves that. He can feel Ciri's questioning gaze in the back of his skull as he sheathes his sword from where he walks beside Roach. ]
Jaskier. [ No, there isn't a modicum of relief in his tone. If there is, he swallows it down with the bitter feeling that rises up. ] I didn't recognize you with the cloak.
[ He never favored them before. That would mean he was ---likely attempting to hide who he was from him. He's not sure what hurts worse. The knowledge that he's angry still, after all this time, or that he would hide himself and let him think him a stranger on the road? ]
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[He forces himself to hiss out the word in anger, instead of showing his hurt, his regret. Jaskier doesn't consider himself mean-spirited, but he was also not raised to be a doormat so he's not going to just... pretend everything is alright, and pretend Geralt's word didn't hurt. He knows Geralt was just lashing out at him out of misplaced anger, and part of him feel for the Witcher since he had just lost the woman he loved, the woman he will always love. But that doesn't make it sting any less.
He glances to the side then, realizing Geralt isn't alone- thinking, for a second, that he's been replaced. So quickly, so easily, a snap of the finger and someone else is following Geralt in his adventures, maybe he didn't even realize he was gone.
Then he actually sees the girl's eyes. A spitting image of Pavetta.]
... The princess?
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[ Geralt's jaw ticks though it is not in agitation. The bard's upset is well-deserved. It was not the first time the man had been on the receiving end of his ire. Neither time was precisely a high moment for him. He supposes some strange sort of luck has favored him the past few months that Ciri had found him. It had eased the ill-feeling that crept up when thoughts threatened to revolve around Yennefer and Jaskier.
He doesn't need to follow the other man's gaze to know what has caught his attention. He guesses her identity with ease and Geralt sees her hands tighten on the reins of her horse when he questions. He nods. ]
Jaskier, this is Ciri. Ciri, this is Jaskier. [ And to ease her continued tension: ] He met your mother once.
[ She tilts her head in kind, a habit he thinks might have come from him as he speaks so little unless pressed. ]
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['Once was enough', Jaskier thinks to himself, remembering the mess that was the banquet and how they had had to leave in a rush because of Geralt deciding to get witty with the law of surprise. He had nothing against Pavetta herself, who'd been able to see the cursed man for who he was inside and truly, honestly love him, but the entire thing had been a mess he wasn't keen on repeating again.
Geralt had been so, so adamant on pretending he hadn't linked the child to himself in the eyes of destiny, so afraid of what his life would do to a child that the thought of ever going back for the kid hadn't seen to cross his mind. And yet here she is, with a defiant look that almost dares Jaskier to judge them but a hint of fear still clear in the way she holds the reins.
He's still angry, still hurt, but his curiosity (as always) gets the best of him.]
How did you- [He makes some vague motions between the, to their horses. To their- traveling together.] How did this happen?
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The fear he had then still holds sway now. It did not stop him thinking of her. Of what she might be doing. Was she safe with her grandmother in Cintra?
He looks to her as she begins to relax from her tense posture. An almost soft look flits across his features. ]
People linked by destiny will always find each other.
[ His charge may well out him later. Explain the truth of the matter. The fact that Geralt had nearly died at the hands of the undead. That Ciri had been chased and accosted by all manner of people. Somehow, through it all, she finds the wife of the merchant who saved him and brought the two of them together. ]
We---We're going to camp soon for the night. If you would like to join us, you're welcome.
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This felt like Geralt throwing every insecurity at his face, the knife digging itself deep into his heart. Like Geralt telling him, to his face, that their friendship hadnāt meant anything and meaning it, this time. Jaskier forgives rather easily, but only if forgiveness is actually asked.]
I recall someone implying every bad thing that had happened in his life as brought by little old me. Iām not sure thatās the kind of energy youād want to have camping with you, would you?
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Roach snorts beside him. She would headbutt him to encourage him but even she seems to realize when her Witcher has indeed been bested by circumstance. It's a bitter pill to swallow nonetheless. ]
I was wrong for what I said. [ No point in drawing it out. He has no one to blame for it but himself. He allowed his temper to cow his good sense and he'd hurt the closest thing he had to a friend. The only person who came remotely close to such a thing. ] You did not deserve that anger.
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I did not.
[He finally answers, because he knows that to be true. He may be annoying, he may say or do the wrong thing sometimes but he wasn't guilty of what Geralt accused him of.]
I... well. I suppose I could camp with you, then. The next town over is still quite far off and the cowl doesn't do much against the cold, as fashionable as it is.
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All his anger bore him nothing but more pain. A fever dream of his mother on top of it all. Magic in the air and valerian root in the medicine. Was she even real? Was it something conjured by his mind as he lay on death's door due to his own stupid decisions made in upset? ]
We're going just past this ridge here. I'll start a fire before I go hunt.
[ Little point in waiting for the cold to bite at them all. He takes the reigns of his mare in hand and starts to lead on. ]
Stay as long as you like.
[ Which is the closest he may get to don't go so soon. ]
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Jaskier will need a little longer to decide if it's good weird or bad weird. But for now he's not stupid enough to ignore his offer. He's alone, tired and a little bit hungry so he'll take a warm fire and Geralt hunting for food, for sure.
That, and he's a little curious about the princess. Read: very curious. Geralt has apologized, already, in his own particular way so he shifts his attention to the princess.]
Would you like to hear a song, while he does all that boring stuff?
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He leads a little ways a head to try and sort his own disjointed thoughts. He doesn't believe this has eased the tension between them completely but perhaps it has begun to med it a little. It's also to give Jaskier time enough to try and get Ciri to warm to him.
The last man who got too close wound up with a dagger under his chin. Geralt was quite proud. Jaskier is harmless, at best he'll torment her a while with song.
Ciri looks to the bard curiously. ]
That depends on the song.
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He strums the first chords of a very, very familiar song.]
When a humble bard...
[Geralt has his own way of apologizing. Jaskier... does, as well.]