[ Sooner or later, it will happen. Geralt has been prepared for it; he's told Jaskier, has deliberately set the wolf to find her when she appears, to keep her safe and steer her away from his piece of land. He has absolutely no fucking want for to meet Yen without her memories. More than that, he knows she won't want it, either. He wants to say, what the hell are the chances of him entering the exact same moment that she finds herself here? He knows better. It's how it's always been between them. Magic, Yennefer would call it, and Geralt could never know how to explain that sometimes he's there at the exact right moment, in a particular town she just happens to be in, because he placed himself there. Not necessarily looking, but. Hoping, a little, in a way that he isn't always fully aware of.
Perhaps that's what's happening now. Conscious or not, it's difficult to say. What can be said is that Geralt steps into the Horizon, sees the wolf is not outside the keep or within its halls, and tells himself it must've wandered off somewhere as it occasionally does. A whisper that it could mean the wolf's left to find Yennefer hovers in his mind for a second, then vanishes like smoke. Geralt doesn't leave Kaer Morhen for a reason. Until he's certain Yen has made her way in and back out again, he has no plans to walk the Horizon, in case he places himself in her path. He shuts the heavy doors, lingers by the hearth with a mug of ale he knows isn't real but that's good enough for while he's here.
Then he hears it: footsteps, a heartbeat, a familiar scent. Upstairs, where no one should have the ability to breach. Certainly not without the wolf attacking, and it hasn't. He can hear it, walking calmly to the other end of the keep. If she's made a portal in, then she must know where to find him. It's been...two, three weeks? Not out of the question, that she'd have found herself in this place already. Is coming to talk to him. And they do need to talk.
He will never know if he's lying to himself or not. If he's ignoring some instinct that says he should leave, right now. What matters is that he chooses to go upstairs, rounding the corner towards his chambers. Like most of his domain, his room contains little by way of a personal touch. His swords are sheathed, laid out atop a dresser. His gear is next to it; a worn cloak rolled up without much care. A coin or two beside some flickering candles. Beyond that, there's nothing. No paintings, no mementos.
He expects her. When he opens the door, he's aware she's there. But despite what has quietly begun to stir in the back of his mind, long before he mounted those stairs, he is not prepared to for this Yennefer. The one that stands before him. He knows as soon as he sees her. It's in the way she holds herself, the look in her eyes. A chill coils around his heart, snagging his breath. Fuck.
It isn't too late to walk away. Except, somehow, it is. ] Yen.
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Perhaps that's what's happening now. Conscious or not, it's difficult to say. What can be said is that Geralt steps into the Horizon, sees the wolf is not outside the keep or within its halls, and tells himself it must've wandered off somewhere as it occasionally does. A whisper that it could mean the wolf's left to find Yennefer hovers in his mind for a second, then vanishes like smoke. Geralt doesn't leave Kaer Morhen for a reason. Until he's certain Yen has made her way in and back out again, he has no plans to walk the Horizon, in case he places himself in her path. He shuts the heavy doors, lingers by the hearth with a mug of ale he knows isn't real but that's good enough for while he's here.
Then he hears it: footsteps, a heartbeat, a familiar scent. Upstairs, where no one should have the ability to breach. Certainly not without the wolf attacking, and it hasn't. He can hear it, walking calmly to the other end of the keep. If she's made a portal in, then she must know where to find him. It's been...two, three weeks? Not out of the question, that she'd have found herself in this place already. Is coming to talk to him. And they do need to talk.
He will never know if he's lying to himself or not. If he's ignoring some instinct that says he should leave, right now. What matters is that he chooses to go upstairs, rounding the corner towards his chambers. Like most of his domain, his room contains little by way of a personal touch. His swords are sheathed, laid out atop a dresser. His gear is next to it; a worn cloak rolled up without much care. A coin or two beside some flickering candles. Beyond that, there's nothing. No paintings, no mementos.
He expects her. When he opens the door, he's aware she's there. But despite what has quietly begun to stir in the back of his mind, long before he mounted those stairs, he is not prepared to for this Yennefer. The one that stands before him. He knows as soon as he sees her. It's in the way she holds herself, the look in her eyes. A chill coils around his heart, snagging his breath. Fuck.
It isn't too late to walk away. Except, somehow, it is. ] Yen.