[ it is something to be noticed, something that she should probably consider more thoughtfully. her wolf, for whom she doesn't even have a name. her wolf, who she has followed across mountains and through pathways, down long walks and towards caravans she's never before seen. being with that wolf, following that wolf, had simply made sense. should she have questioned it? should she have thought what it was supposed to mean? perhaps. but so much of what she has found here has been wonderous, different, beyond her comprehension. and yet none of it has seemed dangerous.
yennefer does now know where her wolf has been leading her - if it is home, if it is somewhere else entirely - but she has followed. and each stop along the way has been worth the journey, even if she's still not sure its end. perhaps this is her end, if the wolf has disappeared. perhaps all this time, it's been leading her right here, right to him. he says his name again and something in his voice is all the confirmation she needs. yes, this is his room. yes, this is his place. his space. his.
but then what is that smell? and why does it make her feel like it's something that is her's? ]
I don't believe you. [ is what yennefer says, after it all. after he claims not to want her here, after a kind of tension settles through him. yennefer senses a shift in the air that she recognizes as cold, that is not warm and not inviting and not something that she could perhaps settle into. but it is somehow, despite all of that, familiar; in the same way that an old, trodden path is still familiar under an inch or so of snow. the same way that a room, empty, turned into a study space, that had once been a bedroom, can feel familiar even still. she does not know why these images come to mind, doesn't know why she suddenly feels this urge to push back against him, but the feeling is there.
even as her tone is stubborn, her eyes are searching, hungry to know what he is thinking, because she knows it is not what he is saying. she knows there is more going on, behind those golden eyes, just as surely as she had known her own name.
she takes a step towards him, then, feeling a sudden urge to reach out for him that she does not act on quite yet. ]
This is your room. But that smell isn't yours, is it?
no subject
yennefer does now know where her wolf has been leading her - if it is home, if it is somewhere else entirely - but she has followed. and each stop along the way has been worth the journey, even if she's still not sure its end. perhaps this is her end, if the wolf has disappeared. perhaps all this time, it's been leading her right here, right to him. he says his name again and something in his voice is all the confirmation she needs. yes, this is his room. yes, this is his place. his space. his.
but then what is that smell? and why does it make her feel like it's something that is her's? ]
I don't believe you. [ is what yennefer says, after it all. after he claims not to want her here, after a kind of tension settles through him. yennefer senses a shift in the air that she recognizes as cold, that is not warm and not inviting and not something that she could perhaps settle into. but it is somehow, despite all of that, familiar; in the same way that an old, trodden path is still familiar under an inch or so of snow. the same way that a room, empty, turned into a study space, that had once been a bedroom, can feel familiar even still. she does not know why these images come to mind, doesn't know why she suddenly feels this urge to push back against him, but the feeling is there.
even as her tone is stubborn, her eyes are searching, hungry to know what he is thinking, because she knows it is not what he is saying. she knows there is more going on, behind those golden eyes, just as surely as she had known her own name.
she takes a step towards him, then, feeling a sudden urge to reach out for him that she does not act on quite yet. ]
This is your room. But that smell isn't yours, is it?