[ but that’s the biggest issue here, isn’t it? because there are a lot of things she will realize, when she remembers. a lot of this that will mean a lot more and be very different. but for now, yennefer watches this man disappear through the door and doesn’t understand why she suddenly feels sick. that the vision of his back, even when she knows he is simply stepping it into a hallway she herself had been in not that long ago, it feels like this will be it. that she may never seen him again, that this might be it, and she hates it. hates this feeling, how it rips at her insides, how young and terrible and weak it somehow manages to make her feel.
it pulls anger out of her, though she can’t quite figure out why. she doesn’t like the feeling, doesn’t like feeling angry with him, but he disappears through the doorway and she turns back to the room and with a flick off her wrist, a bout of energy pushes through the room. not enough to destroy anything, not even enough to move anything from their places. just a jump, a push, off-setting what had felt so pristine and so him.
the wolf is at her side, then. she hadn’t heard him walk in, hadn’t heard the door open or close. she glances down to see the gold eyes looking back to her, and that anger dissipates, leaving her a bit tired no a bit lost and a bit…lonely isn’t the word, necessarily, but it fits close enough that yennefer breathes out a quiet, defeated sigh. ]
I’m assuming you knew that would happen, hmm? [ she says to the wolf, letting her hand lower to run back along his head and neck. her eyes scan the room, at the shift she’s made, at the realization that the smell still lingers. her smell. in his room. and somewhere in that echo are words she doesn’t quite place, can’t quite decide if they are supposed to be her’s, or his, or someone else’s entirely. you’re important to me
when yennefer exhales this next time, it is with a decision having been made. she is still anger, and part of her is comfortable with that feeling, now. a familiar burning in her chest. she moves around to each piece of furniture, picking up everything she can and running her hands along the things she can’t. there is a distinct feeling of being to leave something behind, of there needing to be something she’s done, to this room, that will be remembered. without realizing if she’s done something or if it is instead the horizon coming to meet her, yennefer’s wrist adjusts and through her fingers is a pendant - or perhaps a coin - just smaller than the one she had run her fingers over moments prior. her eyes scan the image engraved onto its surface, noting its association. a lilac sprig and a branch of gooseberries, embedded with tiny amethysts. without meaning to, yennefer moves to settle on the bed, and without any thought to it (or perhaps to much thought, no one but the wolf, who jumps up to settle next to her on the bed, will know) she tucks the coin-shaped pendant under the candle stick on the bedside table.
he wants her, he had said, but not as she is. well- he will, remember her for how she is. whether he finds what she’s left for him or not, she will have been here. she will have made a mark.
yennefer supposes she could leave - this isn’t her room, and she is sure there are other places she must go to other places she must be, but the wolf at her side yawls, comfortably, and yennefer feels herself smile. feels the softness of his fur when she runs her fingers down his spine. ] That’s not such a bad idea. [ and so she curls up onto the bed, herself. kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet up under the skirts of her dress, setting her cheek down against the wolf and closing her eyes.
she does not recall falling asleep, isn’t even entirely sure she is sleeping at all, but when she finds herself blinking awake, when she is struck by an almost panic to turn and make sure - he is there. yennefer looks to him with softer eyes, the cut of his jaw in the burning candlelight, the disappearing sun. the wolf is still curled up next to her, his breathing even and undisturbed, and there is another feeling in this moment that she cannot quite place, of an immeasurable relief and release of tension, of recognizing his weight, on the bed next to her.
she does not sit up, but he must know she’s awake. must know that she still wants his fingers in her hair, no matter how light the touch. ]
no subject
it pulls anger out of her, though she can’t quite figure out why. she doesn’t like the feeling, doesn’t like feeling angry with him, but he disappears through the doorway and she turns back to the room and with a flick off her wrist, a bout of energy pushes through the room. not enough to destroy anything, not even enough to move anything from their places. just a jump, a push, off-setting what had felt so pristine and so him.
the wolf is at her side, then. she hadn’t heard him walk in, hadn’t heard the door open or close. she glances down to see the gold eyes looking back to her, and that anger dissipates, leaving her a bit tired no a bit lost and a bit…lonely isn’t the word, necessarily, but it fits close enough that yennefer breathes out a quiet, defeated sigh. ]
I’m assuming you knew that would happen, hmm? [ she says to the wolf, letting her hand lower to run back along his head and neck. her eyes scan the room, at the shift she’s made, at the realization that the smell still lingers. her smell. in his room. and somewhere in that echo are words she doesn’t quite place, can’t quite decide if they are supposed to be her’s, or his, or someone else’s entirely. you’re important to me
when yennefer exhales this next time, it is with a decision having been made. she is still anger, and part of her is comfortable with that feeling, now. a familiar burning in her chest. she moves around to each piece of furniture, picking up everything she can and running her hands along the things she can’t. there is a distinct feeling of being to leave something behind, of there needing to be something she’s done, to this room, that will be remembered. without realizing if she’s done something or if it is instead the horizon coming to meet her, yennefer’s wrist adjusts and through her fingers is a pendant - or perhaps a coin - just smaller than the one she had run her fingers over moments prior. her eyes scan the image engraved onto its surface, noting its association. a lilac sprig and a branch of gooseberries, embedded with tiny amethysts. without meaning to, yennefer moves to settle on the bed, and without any thought to it (or perhaps to much thought, no one but the wolf, who jumps up to settle next to her on the bed, will know) she tucks the coin-shaped pendant under the candle stick on the bedside table.
he wants her, he had said, but not as she is. well- he will, remember her for how she is. whether he finds what she’s left for him or not, she will have been here. she will have made a mark.
yennefer supposes she could leave - this isn’t her room, and she is sure there are other places she must go to other places she must be, but the wolf at her side yawls, comfortably, and yennefer feels herself smile. feels the softness of his fur when she runs her fingers down his spine. ] That’s not such a bad idea. [ and so she curls up onto the bed, herself. kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet up under the skirts of her dress, setting her cheek down against the wolf and closing her eyes.
she does not recall falling asleep, isn’t even entirely sure she is sleeping at all, but when she finds herself blinking awake, when she is struck by an almost panic to turn and make sure - he is there. yennefer looks to him with softer eyes, the cut of his jaw in the burning candlelight, the disappearing sun. the wolf is still curled up next to her, his breathing even and undisturbed, and there is another feeling in this moment that she cannot quite place, of an immeasurable relief and release of tension, of recognizing his weight, on the bed next to her.
she does not sit up, but he must know she’s awake. must know that she still wants his fingers in her hair, no matter how light the touch. ]
You came back.