![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
abraxas:: INBOX
Inbox
» action
» text
» Horizon
To talk to him in person, you'll need to be in Cadens or go to his domain, a snowy mountain fortress. Yard is open; doors are locked. If he isn't around, leave a delivery with the white wolf.
To talk to him in person, you'll need to be in Cadens or go to his domain, a snowy mountain fortress. Yard is open; doors are locked. If he isn't around, leave a delivery with the white wolf.
Estinien pauses in Geralt's domain for two reasons: the first being that it's changed since their first foray into the horizon, and the second being that leaping into it is strangely like falling into a closed-off diorama. The mountains can't be as easily seen from the outside, but from within...
It's an illusion, of course, but it's one that appeals to Estinien's sensibilities. It's not incredibly unlike his own domain, though his remains firmly entrenched in spring and summer. He wanders around, unafraid, leaping into the Keep and then up on top of the central building. Eventually, he winds up at the front door, only to find a wolf waiting for him.
He's a little more cautious now, but when it doesn't seem to be ready to attack, he'll knock on the entrance doors. May as well figure out who this domain belongs to.
It's an illusion, of course, but it's one that appeals to Estinien's sensibilities. It's not incredibly unlike his own domain, though his remains firmly entrenched in spring and summer. He wanders around, unafraid, leaping into the Keep and then up on top of the central building. Eventually, he winds up at the front door, only to find a wolf waiting for him.
He's a little more cautious now, but when it doesn't seem to be ready to attack, he'll knock on the entrance doors. May as well figure out who this domain belongs to.
Experience tells him folk will find their way into his space nonetheles, which is part of the reason Geralt has left the gates accessible. He has little intention of greeting anyone out there—until the knock comes. He takes a minute or two to consider. It'd be easy to ignore it.
Curiosity wins out in the end. The heavy double doors swing inward. Geralt stands between them. Somehow, he isn't expecting a familiar face, if only because the scent had been that of a stranger's. Now he realizes why. He and Estinien never met in the Horizon. Only in the dungeon, where the world was muted for him.
He looks Estinien up and down. One eyebrow goes up. There's no hostility in the greeting, but its blunt edges have not been softened, either: a genuine question, because he can't imagine what Estinien needs from him in the Horizon. They've only spoken once. "What do you want?"
Curiosity wins out in the end. The heavy double doors swing inward. Geralt stands between them. Somehow, he isn't expecting a familiar face, if only because the scent had been that of a stranger's. Now he realizes why. He and Estinien never met in the Horizon. Only in the dungeon, where the world was muted for him.
He looks Estinien up and down. One eyebrow goes up. There's no hostility in the greeting, but its blunt edges have not been softened, either: a genuine question, because he can't imagine what Estinien needs from him in the Horizon. They've only spoken once. "What do you want?"
Estinien looks past him, towards the interior. Interesting. Though he doesn't hide the fact he's looking, he also doesn't spend too much time doing it. Really, there's a general lack of shame to him being here in the first place, even with Geralt's guarded reception.
"Oh, it's you," he says, which is maybe funny considering the fact that Estinien is the one knocking at the door. He crosses his arms. "Tis harder tracking you lot down, now that we're not all trapped here."
As for the question, well...
"I've been meaning to speak to those that head towards the Free Cities. When it comes down to it, this choice was a flip of the coin, and I'd like to hear about the other side."
"Oh, it's you," he says, which is maybe funny considering the fact that Estinien is the one knocking at the door. He crosses his arms. "Tis harder tracking you lot down, now that we're not all trapped here."
As for the question, well...
"I've been meaning to speak to those that head towards the Free Cities. When it comes down to it, this choice was a flip of the coin, and I'd like to hear about the other side."
It's—did the elf just come here without even knowing who was in this place? He tilts his head. Actually, that would be the case, wouldn't it? How would Estinien even know to find him here, unless someone directed him?
A grunt comes in response to that. He pauses, then steps back inside so Estinien can come in if he wants. The hearth is lit, but the most prominent feature is the old tree with its glimmering silver medallions, most stamped with the head of a snarling wolf. Now that he's not bound by the Horizon's stolen memories, the hanged man pendant has been replaced with a similar medallion around his neck.
"There is no side." He swings his leg over one of the worn benches, perching on it. He'd like to hear who did pick a side. His thoughts on the Singularity remain ambivalent at best. Leaving Thorne had been a decision made solely because he'd rather not be executed next. "Figured enemy territory is safer than neutral territory. All there is to it."
A grunt comes in response to that. He pauses, then steps back inside so Estinien can come in if he wants. The hearth is lit, but the most prominent feature is the old tree with its glimmering silver medallions, most stamped with the head of a snarling wolf. Now that he's not bound by the Horizon's stolen memories, the hanged man pendant has been replaced with a similar medallion around his neck.
"There is no side." He swings his leg over one of the worn benches, perching on it. He'd like to hear who did pick a side. His thoughts on the Singularity remain ambivalent at best. Leaving Thorne had been a decision made solely because he'd rather not be executed next. "Figured enemy territory is safer than neutral territory. All there is to it."
He's really just lucky that the person here ended up being someone he was interested in talking to. The possibility of stumbling upon Thorne's defenders has definitely crossed his mind, which might be awkward at this point.
He comes inside, looking around but not really knowing what to make of the place. Some kind of military fortress, would be his guess. Or... a Witcher fortress? Or was there only one of them? He's still not entirely clear, even if the tree seems to suggest otherwise. Either way, he could make some guesses about those pendants, but that's also not what he's here for.
It's Estinien's turn to lift an eyebrow now, at the idea of there not being 'sides'. Perhaps ironic, given that he's the one that went into neutral territory, but it certainly wasn't so he could avoid the conflict.
"Well? Is it safe, then?" he asks.
He comes inside, looking around but not really knowing what to make of the place. Some kind of military fortress, would be his guess. Or... a Witcher fortress? Or was there only one of them? He's still not entirely clear, even if the tree seems to suggest otherwise. Either way, he could make some guesses about those pendants, but that's also not what he's here for.
It's Estinien's turn to lift an eyebrow now, at the idea of there not being 'sides'. Perhaps ironic, given that he's the one that went into neutral territory, but it certainly wasn't so he could avoid the conflict.
"Well? Is it safe, then?" he asks.
His gaze lingers on Estinien, scrutinizing. He doesn't mind the elf; gruff demeanor aside, that he's let Estinien in at all says more than anything else. But he doesn't know him, and their last conversation hasn't led him to believe that Estinien is a man who compromises often. If at all.
"From Thorne?" He slides a filled tankard over. Food and drink in here aren't real, exactly, but since it's here and costs nothing—might as well. "Yes. From the Cities themselves? Fuck knows."
So far, they've been left alone. That's more than he expected, but he's wary. Each of them bear a connection to the Singularity. The one thing they want destroyed. Besides, he isn't interested in the Cities moving against Thorne, either. Not while Yennefer is there. He just wants to bide his time until they can figure out what in the hell to do. Solvunn had been too much of a risk to do so. Too unpredictable.
"From Thorne?" He slides a filled tankard over. Food and drink in here aren't real, exactly, but since it's here and costs nothing—might as well. "Yes. From the Cities themselves? Fuck knows."
So far, they've been left alone. That's more than he expected, but he's wary. Each of them bear a connection to the Singularity. The one thing they want destroyed. Besides, he isn't interested in the Cities moving against Thorne, either. Not while Yennefer is there. He just wants to bide his time until they can figure out what in the hell to do. Solvunn had been too much of a risk to do so. Too unpredictable.
"Hmph. Truthfully, I was more worried about the Cities."
He sits with a sigh, accepting the tankard, because... well. As has been said, why not. Unlike a few weeks ago, he can drink in real life too, but that also costs him money.
"Our rescuer said little about either destination, and I've been hoping to find out the Free Cities's reasoning for such an extreme plan of action. In some ways, Solvunn's perspective is much more straightforward."
The idea of finding both plans bad isn't all that difficult to explain, especially when Solvunn itself seems to be doing pretty well for itself. Wanting to destroy something so integral to this world and possibly the entire universe is a bit more complicated.
He falls silent for a moment, staring at the ground ahead of him.
"...In the interest of full disclosure, I do think there are sides to be chosen. I only hope to pick the right one... or, at least, the one that will best allow me to further my own path."
He sits with a sigh, accepting the tankard, because... well. As has been said, why not. Unlike a few weeks ago, he can drink in real life too, but that also costs him money.
"Our rescuer said little about either destination, and I've been hoping to find out the Free Cities's reasoning for such an extreme plan of action. In some ways, Solvunn's perspective is much more straightforward."
The idea of finding both plans bad isn't all that difficult to explain, especially when Solvunn itself seems to be doing pretty well for itself. Wanting to destroy something so integral to this world and possibly the entire universe is a bit more complicated.
He falls silent for a moment, staring at the ground ahead of him.
"...In the interest of full disclosure, I do think there are sides to be chosen. I only hope to pick the right one... or, at least, the one that will best allow me to further my own path."
A soft noise accompanies the phrase our rescuer. They have their own agenda, he's certain, and that leaves him more uneasy than what these three city-states have in mind. Too many variables at play.
"Solvunn will not remain unaligned." That's the simple truth of it. States don't stay that way, even if they might have true intentions of doing so. If they're neutral, as the mage had claimed, then it will only be for so long. Eventually, they will tip—out of necessity, out of greed, out of pressure. Or they're waiting for the two sides to destroy each other before they step in with ambitions of their own. Either way, Geralt has no desire to be where he can't predict how the cards will fall.
As for the Free Cities—he suspects they don't want the Singularity's power to be available to fall into any one nation's hands. The city relies far less on magic than Thorne. Fewer mages. Less magic in the air. In fact, something about them almost seems to be moving away from it. He's seen mechanisms operating where a spell would do the trick. Worth noting, considering this world supposedly offers easy access to magic to anyone willing to tap into it. But those in the Cities don't all seem willing. Either they can't or they've found reason not to. And if the Singularity is the source of the world's magic, if Thorne relies on it to hold power, then why not cut them off? It's one theory, in any case.
What that means for everyone else, hell if he knows. His goal is to not find out.
When his gaze settles on Estinien's face, it's steady. He does not say that Estinien will never pick the right one. If the elf wants to believe there's reasoning to this bullshit, that it's more than humans jostling for power as always, it isn't Geralt's job to convince him otherwise.
"I don't need an explanation," he replies. He gets Estinien means to be honest, but it isn't his concern. All that matters to him is what Estinien is willing to do when it comes down to it—and how much of that will get in Geralt's way. Which has nothing to do with what side goes where. "Don't make it my business and it won't be."
"Solvunn will not remain unaligned." That's the simple truth of it. States don't stay that way, even if they might have true intentions of doing so. If they're neutral, as the mage had claimed, then it will only be for so long. Eventually, they will tip—out of necessity, out of greed, out of pressure. Or they're waiting for the two sides to destroy each other before they step in with ambitions of their own. Either way, Geralt has no desire to be where he can't predict how the cards will fall.
As for the Free Cities—he suspects they don't want the Singularity's power to be available to fall into any one nation's hands. The city relies far less on magic than Thorne. Fewer mages. Less magic in the air. In fact, something about them almost seems to be moving away from it. He's seen mechanisms operating where a spell would do the trick. Worth noting, considering this world supposedly offers easy access to magic to anyone willing to tap into it. But those in the Cities don't all seem willing. Either they can't or they've found reason not to. And if the Singularity is the source of the world's magic, if Thorne relies on it to hold power, then why not cut them off? It's one theory, in any case.
What that means for everyone else, hell if he knows. His goal is to not find out.
When his gaze settles on Estinien's face, it's steady. He does not say that Estinien will never pick the right one. If the elf wants to believe there's reasoning to this bullshit, that it's more than humans jostling for power as always, it isn't Geralt's job to convince him otherwise.
"I don't need an explanation," he replies. He gets Estinien means to be honest, but it isn't his concern. All that matters to him is what Estinien is willing to do when it comes down to it—and how much of that will get in Geralt's way. Which has nothing to do with what side goes where. "Don't make it my business and it won't be."
He was trying to be honest, first and foremost. He didn't like the idea of trying to draw information from Geralt under the premise of being utterly detached from this world's politics and only looking for a safe place to survive. Surviving is important, of course, but only because if he doesn't survive he'll have no say in what happens later.
Estinien's gaze rises to meet his, a bit more sharply this time. To some degree, he finds this level of non-intervention annoying, if not fully irresponsible. Then again, not everyone is coming from the perspective of an organization that specializes in meddling.
"Tis already your business," Estinien says. As Geralt suspected, there is not much compromise in his tone. "As I spotted you sharing a rather intimate moment with a women I was forced to raise arms against just a short time later."
The problem with leaving a party early is that you miss these things.
Estinien's gaze rises to meet his, a bit more sharply this time. To some degree, he finds this level of non-intervention annoying, if not fully irresponsible. Then again, not everyone is coming from the perspective of an organization that specializes in meddling.
"Tis already your business," Estinien says. As Geralt suspected, there is not much compromise in his tone. "As I spotted you sharing a rather intimate moment with a women I was forced to raise arms against just a short time later."
The problem with leaving a party early is that you miss these things.
If Geralt notices the way Estinien looks at him, it doesn't seem to bother him. He's no stranger to people who want to use him for a side, a purpose. Who believe he should do something for one cause or another. He's turned down a queen before; he isn't about to change his mind now.
Not until Estinien brings up Yennefer do his eyes narrow a hint. Mm. Shit. That. He's been waiting for it, but he expected it out of someone who stayed in Thorne. Because fuck, he was aware even at the time that it makes a complicated situation twice that. He also knows, if she's convinced Thorne to free her by now, that she'll find a way to turn it to her advantage. (And he can't bring himself to regret it.)
A choice of words, though. Unless some external magic puppeted the elf, no one forced a damn thing.
"If you decided to raise arms," he says, pointed, "that's between you and her."
Yennefer has her reasons for staying. Had he and the elf shared more than one chat, he might've explained. As it is, if Estinien hasn't put it together why Yennefer has chosen to stay while he he's left, then Geralt has no reason to help him along. Especially if they were seen in an altercation—he knows her. He knows what she's doing. It isn't his game, all this subterfuge, but Geralt is difficult to crack even on the best of days. And his concern for Yennefer doesn't lie in one elf trying to swing at her. That Estinien is even here to tell him about it means she let him go.
Not until Estinien brings up Yennefer do his eyes narrow a hint. Mm. Shit. That. He's been waiting for it, but he expected it out of someone who stayed in Thorne. Because fuck, he was aware even at the time that it makes a complicated situation twice that. He also knows, if she's convinced Thorne to free her by now, that she'll find a way to turn it to her advantage. (And he can't bring himself to regret it.)
A choice of words, though. Unless some external magic puppeted the elf, no one forced a damn thing.
"If you decided to raise arms," he says, pointed, "that's between you and her."
Yennefer has her reasons for staying. Had he and the elf shared more than one chat, he might've explained. As it is, if Estinien hasn't put it together why Yennefer has chosen to stay while he he's left, then Geralt has no reason to help him along. Especially if they were seen in an altercation—he knows her. He knows what she's doing. It isn't his game, all this subterfuge, but Geralt is difficult to crack even on the best of days. And his concern for Yennefer doesn't lie in one elf trying to swing at her. That Estinien is even here to tell him about it means she let him go.
He decides not to say that, in the moment, he'd felt very inclined to kill her. He's not sure whether or not the sentiment has lingered. In the aftermath, he'd wondered if there were something more complicated to her involvement, given her apparent relationship with Geralt and the fact that she was coming from the perspective of being a prisoner.
Either way, the semantics of it aren't important to him, so he won't argue the point. He's mostly just surprised that he doesn't seem to care one way or the other. It seems this is an ongoing theme.
"If you are truly so uninvolved in her fate, then mayhap there is no issue."
This is an unexpectedly difficult thing to work with. Given that he has positive impressions of a few of the people in Geralt's in-group, he's been disinclined to cause unnecessary friction with them. Yet, making his stance on things clear doesn't seem to be very effective here. It shows on his face, for a moment - the way he doesn't really seem to know what to do with this situation.
He didn't come here wanting to be an asshole. If anything, he wanted to keep up ties with those in other places. This sort of thing isn't usually his job.
"I only know it would avail me not to make more enemies than necessary."
Either way, the semantics of it aren't important to him, so he won't argue the point. He's mostly just surprised that he doesn't seem to care one way or the other. It seems this is an ongoing theme.
"If you are truly so uninvolved in her fate, then mayhap there is no issue."
This is an unexpectedly difficult thing to work with. Given that he has positive impressions of a few of the people in Geralt's in-group, he's been disinclined to cause unnecessary friction with them. Yet, making his stance on things clear doesn't seem to be very effective here. It shows on his face, for a moment - the way he doesn't really seem to know what to do with this situation.
He didn't come here wanting to be an asshole. If anything, he wanted to keep up ties with those in other places. This sort of thing isn't usually his job.
"I only know it would avail me not to make more enemies than necessary."
The silence hangs in the air. Geralt is watching, unmoved, like he's thinking something over or waiting for Estinien to say more. He isn't even certain what Estinien might've expected out of him. For Geralt to immediately retaliate? Or explain himself?
He's prone toward neither. If Estinien is here to gauge retribution over this incident, he won't find any. Yennefer's fate hangs upon more than one elf. She doesn't need him, besides. Not to step in. He worries about her as much as he doesn't, as much as he's aware she can take care of herself. He is not her protector. And she'll be incredibly pissed off if he interferes on her behalf without reason and fucks up whatever intricate plans she's already begun to lay. He came here for Cirilla. Promised he'd look after the girl, both to Yen and himself, and trusted Yen knows what she's doing back in Thorne. That's where his focus is, where he's trying to keep it. With Ciri and Jaskier. That's something he can do. Because he can't do anything about this, about Thorne, about the fact that he hates that Yennefer has put him in this position, right call or not. Has made him feel this chasm inside him he doesn't know what to do with.
His fingers curl gently where they rest on the table. Being inside his own shaped Kaer Morhen makes him miss the ease of home. Where there's none of this shit in the way. Where there are just his brothers and the snow and the stories they tell by the fire. His desire to remain uninvolved is not for lack of care. It's because he's learned, a long time ago, it changes nothing. The world will shift. If one kingdom does not fall with all of its children inside, another will. And in the end, the humans will carry on, in the ashes they leave behind, until they find something new to turn against. Until they find something different enough they can tell themselves it deserves to burn, too.
"You have your people," he says finally. "Look after them, and I'll look after mine."
He's not here to start a problem. He said all that needed to be said, when he told Estinien not to make it his business; to him, that's all that matters for where he stands. As long as Estinien doesn't start anything more, he's willing to stay out of the elf's way.
He's prone toward neither. If Estinien is here to gauge retribution over this incident, he won't find any. Yennefer's fate hangs upon more than one elf. She doesn't need him, besides. Not to step in. He worries about her as much as he doesn't, as much as he's aware she can take care of herself. He is not her protector. And she'll be incredibly pissed off if he interferes on her behalf without reason and fucks up whatever intricate plans she's already begun to lay. He came here for Cirilla. Promised he'd look after the girl, both to Yen and himself, and trusted Yen knows what she's doing back in Thorne. That's where his focus is, where he's trying to keep it. With Ciri and Jaskier. That's something he can do. Because he can't do anything about this, about Thorne, about the fact that he hates that Yennefer has put him in this position, right call or not. Has made him feel this chasm inside him he doesn't know what to do with.
His fingers curl gently where they rest on the table. Being inside his own shaped Kaer Morhen makes him miss the ease of home. Where there's none of this shit in the way. Where there are just his brothers and the snow and the stories they tell by the fire. His desire to remain uninvolved is not for lack of care. It's because he's learned, a long time ago, it changes nothing. The world will shift. If one kingdom does not fall with all of its children inside, another will. And in the end, the humans will carry on, in the ashes they leave behind, until they find something new to turn against. Until they find something different enough they can tell themselves it deserves to burn, too.
"You have your people," he says finally. "Look after them, and I'll look after mine."
He's not here to start a problem. He said all that needed to be said, when he told Estinien not to make it his business; to him, that's all that matters for where he stands. As long as Estinien doesn't start anything more, he's willing to stay out of the elf's way.
Were it only so simple.
Estinien has his people, of course, the ones that he would fight tooth and nail for, circumstances be damned. Yet, in his choice to join the Scions, he made a choice to stand for more than that. To stand for people not his own, and lands he'd never been to before. He knows it's what Alphinaud and the others would be doing, if they were here.
He tries to imagine Alphinaud having this same conversation - firmly but diplomatically explaining that while he sought no ill will, the bigger picture had to come first. As soft as the boy was at times, he knew he would make the right decisions, in the end. If only Estinien himself were as confident taking point, in trying to cultivate allies and make the call on when war was unavoidable.
It's not what he was built for, but in their absence, he has to try.
Estinien looks back to Geralt somberly, unhappy with this outcome but unsure of how to do better. He knows his answer isn't what Geralt is going to want to hear.
"This is what I'm trying to tell you," he says. "For my people here, and for the ones waiting at home, I cannot simply allow Thorne to carry on in its advances. Too many times have I seen men and women of the same ambition consumed by tyranny. If she would defend them, or enable them, it will not remain as simple as my people and yours."
The same could apply for the Free Cities, in coming days or weeks. If he finds no compelling reason for the Singularity's destruction, he will have no choice but to fight to prevent it.
"I made an oath to fight for more than personal security and the wellbeing of a handful of others. And if my comrades cannot be here to fight for all that is dear to them... then it falls to me to do so in their stead."
Estinien has his people, of course, the ones that he would fight tooth and nail for, circumstances be damned. Yet, in his choice to join the Scions, he made a choice to stand for more than that. To stand for people not his own, and lands he'd never been to before. He knows it's what Alphinaud and the others would be doing, if they were here.
He tries to imagine Alphinaud having this same conversation - firmly but diplomatically explaining that while he sought no ill will, the bigger picture had to come first. As soft as the boy was at times, he knew he would make the right decisions, in the end. If only Estinien himself were as confident taking point, in trying to cultivate allies and make the call on when war was unavoidable.
It's not what he was built for, but in their absence, he has to try.
Estinien looks back to Geralt somberly, unhappy with this outcome but unsure of how to do better. He knows his answer isn't what Geralt is going to want to hear.
"This is what I'm trying to tell you," he says. "For my people here, and for the ones waiting at home, I cannot simply allow Thorne to carry on in its advances. Too many times have I seen men and women of the same ambition consumed by tyranny. If she would defend them, or enable them, it will not remain as simple as my people and yours."
The same could apply for the Free Cities, in coming days or weeks. If he finds no compelling reason for the Singularity's destruction, he will have no choice but to fight to prevent it.
"I made an oath to fight for more than personal security and the wellbeing of a handful of others. And if my comrades cannot be here to fight for all that is dear to them... then it falls to me to do so in their stead."
Even before Estinien opens his mouth, Geralt feels it coming. Feels that snap in the air that tells him he's about to hear something he can't walk away from—and it's exactly this he's been trying to avoid. He doesn't even know what Estinien thinks explaining this will do. To tell him about his noble cause? As though it matters? As though it'll change his mind and he'll suddenly agree that there's a right side to be found, that he'll talk to Yennefer, that there is something to work out?
There isn't. Maybe if Estinien had been talking to someone else, his speech might've been worthwhile. For Geralt, it only raises a wariness he hadn't felt before. He knows men hungry with power, he knows men who are cruel and violent. Men too weak to be anything else. But there is nothing that makes him step further away from it all than a man who has the conviction that he is fighting for something bigger. Nilfgaard has marched through half the north on this conviction. It is the same conviction that Ambrose holds. It is the same conviction that has the Continent, the Red Riders, pursuing Cirilla across worlds.
He wants nothing to do with it.
If his expression had been steady before, it's now entirely shuttered. There's an unnatural stillness to him, a faint hum to the medallions that hang.
"I don't care about your oaths." He's quiet, as always, and a careful calm has settled beneath the steel in his words. "I've heard it all before. Believe in what let's you sleep easiest at night, when you wash the blood off your blade. It means fuck all to me. But I am not asking you to leave me out of it. I'm telling you that you'll want to."
There isn't. Maybe if Estinien had been talking to someone else, his speech might've been worthwhile. For Geralt, it only raises a wariness he hadn't felt before. He knows men hungry with power, he knows men who are cruel and violent. Men too weak to be anything else. But there is nothing that makes him step further away from it all than a man who has the conviction that he is fighting for something bigger. Nilfgaard has marched through half the north on this conviction. It is the same conviction that Ambrose holds. It is the same conviction that has the Continent, the Red Riders, pursuing Cirilla across worlds.
He wants nothing to do with it.
If his expression had been steady before, it's now entirely shuttered. There's an unnatural stillness to him, a faint hum to the medallions that hang.
"I don't care about your oaths." He's quiet, as always, and a careful calm has settled beneath the steel in his words. "I've heard it all before. Believe in what let's you sleep easiest at night, when you wash the blood off your blade. It means fuck all to me. But I am not asking you to leave me out of it. I'm telling you that you'll want to."
Edited 2021-09-08 04:36 (UTC)
Estinien notices the shift in demeanour, and while he isn't afraid, he finds himself disappointed. Disappointed in what exactly, he's not sure. Two for two, his attempts at reaching out in uncomfortable circumstances have failed, and at this point, he's not even sure what he's doing wrong. Much like with Eponine, it feels like staring down a pit that he can't possibly hope to perceive the bottom of.
Ironic, perhaps, that if he'd had this same conversation a few years ago, he might have been free of the oaths and hopes that are apparently anathema in this context. For all he's wondered about his worth, about his understanding of the world, following the ideals of people like Aymeric and Alphinaud seemed like that the one thing that was an objective improvement.
Yet, right now, it's completely biting him in the ass, and he isn't even sure why. Would Geralt rather he potentially attack and kill someone dear to him without even trying to broker peace? Is it really just a case of either forsaking his objectives or starting a feud, with no room for mediation?
Why did you even bother? This isn't for you.
It's so tempting to just let it take him, the wave of anger and despair he feels. Thankfully, most of this doesn't show on the surface. Though his frustration comes through in his eyes, it's followed by a biting sharpness to match Geralt's frozen calm. Geralt's words are so condescending, to him. So arrogant. As if this Witcher thinks he knows all there is to know of the world. Of all worlds.
"Truthfully," he says, "I found the killing easiest when it was just for me. Just because I wanted to." There was no greater satisfaction than to fell one of his hated enemies. No more perfect simplicity than a long march towards revenge.
"Having hopes? Ideals? They only get in the way of it."
Ironic, perhaps, that if he'd had this same conversation a few years ago, he might have been free of the oaths and hopes that are apparently anathema in this context. For all he's wondered about his worth, about his understanding of the world, following the ideals of people like Aymeric and Alphinaud seemed like that the one thing that was an objective improvement.
Yet, right now, it's completely biting him in the ass, and he isn't even sure why. Would Geralt rather he potentially attack and kill someone dear to him without even trying to broker peace? Is it really just a case of either forsaking his objectives or starting a feud, with no room for mediation?
Why did you even bother? This isn't for you.
It's so tempting to just let it take him, the wave of anger and despair he feels. Thankfully, most of this doesn't show on the surface. Though his frustration comes through in his eyes, it's followed by a biting sharpness to match Geralt's frozen calm. Geralt's words are so condescending, to him. So arrogant. As if this Witcher thinks he knows all there is to know of the world. Of all worlds.
"Truthfully," he says, "I found the killing easiest when it was just for me. Just because I wanted to." There was no greater satisfaction than to fell one of his hated enemies. No more perfect simplicity than a long march towards revenge.
"Having hopes? Ideals? They only get in the way of it."
What part of it means fuck all went in one pointed ear and fell out the other? All of it, apparently. The more Estinien goes on, the more his patience wears thin. He has little time for those who insist on drawing him into a conflict he wants nothing to do with. He has even less time for someone who seems determined to push him when he's granted them several chances to walk away. It isn't even about the fact that he's under any illusion he can remain out of it altogether. He knows, given Yennefer, given the power Cirilla holds within her, that he will find himself in the midst of a fight he didn't ask for. That he will do it for reasons he owes to no one.
But it'll not be because someone's dragged this mess to his doorstep and demanded he make a choice or else. Is now starting to tell him about—whatever it is. What is it? What's even the point? Does Estinien want a pat on the head, for his internal struggles before a throat is cut? Does he want to see disdain for acknowledging having once killed without mercy? Does he think it makes a difference either way?
It doesn't. Geralt does not care to debate arbitrary moral reasonings behind blood spilled, one way or another. He cannot give two shits about whether Estinien feels nothing or feels everything or something in between about what he chooses to do. Somewhere in the mob that burned Kaer Morhen to the ground, in the hungry violence, there were those who struggled, too, as they stepped over the bodies. Who did it, anyway, because they foresaw a better world without his kind to plague it. Plenty who can't sleep at night, knowing they abandoned their child to the Witchers, to the Trials, and just as many who would do it again in a heartbeat. What does it matter? What does it change? (His mother had looked at him with such guilt and grief, and some part of him hates her all the more for it.)
What Estinien can never understand is that this has moved long past just Yennefer. Because there's a girl in his hands, and all he knows for certain is that she hasn't asked to be a part these hopes and prophecies, either. So the only thing he gives a damn about is protecting her from this war, from everyone's grand ideals that would use her.
And it means Geralt has zero desire in extending this conversation. To him, it ended five minutes ago, when Estinien made it clear that he has some higher purpose in mind he will stop at nothing for.
"You don't seem to understand," he says flatly, "that I'm telling you to fuck off."
But it'll not be because someone's dragged this mess to his doorstep and demanded he make a choice or else. Is now starting to tell him about—whatever it is. What is it? What's even the point? Does Estinien want a pat on the head, for his internal struggles before a throat is cut? Does he want to see disdain for acknowledging having once killed without mercy? Does he think it makes a difference either way?
It doesn't. Geralt does not care to debate arbitrary moral reasonings behind blood spilled, one way or another. He cannot give two shits about whether Estinien feels nothing or feels everything or something in between about what he chooses to do. Somewhere in the mob that burned Kaer Morhen to the ground, in the hungry violence, there were those who struggled, too, as they stepped over the bodies. Who did it, anyway, because they foresaw a better world without his kind to plague it. Plenty who can't sleep at night, knowing they abandoned their child to the Witchers, to the Trials, and just as many who would do it again in a heartbeat. What does it matter? What does it change? (His mother had looked at him with such guilt and grief, and some part of him hates her all the more for it.)
What Estinien can never understand is that this has moved long past just Yennefer. Because there's a girl in his hands, and all he knows for certain is that she hasn't asked to be a part these hopes and prophecies, either. So the only thing he gives a damn about is protecting her from this war, from everyone's grand ideals that would use her.
And it means Geralt has zero desire in extending this conversation. To him, it ended five minutes ago, when Estinien made it clear that he has some higher purpose in mind he will stop at nothing for.
"You don't seem to understand," he says flatly, "that I'm telling you to fuck off."
Estinien stands, not because he's planning on leaving, but because he's no longer in a sitting kind of mood. There's no surprise on his face when Geralt tells him to fuck off, so maybe him not understanding isn't the problem. He understands Geralt wants him to shut up and leave. The question is whether he cares to or not.
"I understand full well," he growls, glaring at the man with a look that approaches contempt. "What I don't see is why, given your own policy of caring 'fuck all', that I should be all that concerned with what brings you comfort."
He doesn't see it as a mercy to be allowed to go ignored. He doesn't want offers to look the other way or let this one slide. He didn't come here to apologize. No, what he wants is for Geralt to look at him and to address the trouble on his doorstep without shrinking away like a coward. He didn't ask for mercy, what he asked for was understanding, and it's clear that neither of them are getting that here.
It's with a tenderness that he withdraws his attempt at empathy. Despite how far he's come, it's what it so often comes down to when he feels hurt. Eye for an eye. If he will not be heard, he will not listen, either. He may see the value in self-sacrifice, but it will not be done on account of someone who offers nothing in return.
It's comforting, to recoil into himself like this, to feel justified bearing his fangs. He tried to be like the other Scions. No one can say he didn't try.
"I had hoped to spare us both unnecessary pains, but I can see now 'twas for naught. Remember this well. When you lose what little you have in this place, remember: 'twas your own indolence that prevented you from doing a single thing to stop it."
"I understand full well," he growls, glaring at the man with a look that approaches contempt. "What I don't see is why, given your own policy of caring 'fuck all', that I should be all that concerned with what brings you comfort."
He doesn't see it as a mercy to be allowed to go ignored. He doesn't want offers to look the other way or let this one slide. He didn't come here to apologize. No, what he wants is for Geralt to look at him and to address the trouble on his doorstep without shrinking away like a coward. He didn't ask for mercy, what he asked for was understanding, and it's clear that neither of them are getting that here.
It's with a tenderness that he withdraws his attempt at empathy. Despite how far he's come, it's what it so often comes down to when he feels hurt. Eye for an eye. If he will not be heard, he will not listen, either. He may see the value in self-sacrifice, but it will not be done on account of someone who offers nothing in return.
It's comforting, to recoil into himself like this, to feel justified bearing his fangs. He tried to be like the other Scions. No one can say he didn't try.
"I had hoped to spare us both unnecessary pains, but I can see now 'twas for naught. Remember this well. When you lose what little you have in this place, remember: 'twas your own indolence that prevented you from doing a single thing to stop it."
Edited 2021-09-09 21:57 (UTC)
Mm. There it is. What always lies under all that talk.
It's funny. How it falls into place, given space and time to grow. Oscillating between his fight for greater and ideals, and laying out his bloodthirsty history in the next breath—it's hard not to get the inkling, now that the elf has shown his hand, as though Estinien from the start wanted solely to get something from him: the satisfaction of a reaction, of a confession. Perhaps that's why he's been so relentless, playing one card after the next: Yennefer, this damn war, dramatic fucking threats. Why even now, he's still here, still will not shut up, a dog with a bone. Going on about concern for comforts as if he's doing a favour by coming here with his bullshit. It's both typical and tiring to be faced with people that far up their own ass.
But Estinien is not the first who's come into the Witcher's space unannounced with the intentions to start a fight, demanded his head, warned him of consequences, sunk claws into the scars they glimpse. Tried to get a rise out of him, because they're bored, because he's an easy target in the right place at the wrong time, because they want him to bite like the monster they see him as. He takes it all the same; a century is a long time to learn not to flinch.
Geralt's eyes haven't left Estinien's since, but when the elf rises, his gaze doesn't bother to follow. The flames in the hearth lower, then gently snuff out—an indication, perhaps, that he's about to leave this plane, whether Estinien walks away first or not. He's wasted enough time. Estinien has come here claiming what he has; Geralt will take him at his word. Maybe there are deeper motivations at play, maybe there aren't—where the few who mean anything (everything) to him are concerned, he has better priorities than cracking the surface of those who choose to put themselves in front of him as a threat. That's all there is to it.
"You have a lot on your mind." The yellow of his eyes catch the remaining torchlight—expression not bored nor even unaffected, but devoid altogether. A practiced emptiness. "Don't let me keep you."
It's funny. How it falls into place, given space and time to grow. Oscillating between his fight for greater and ideals, and laying out his bloodthirsty history in the next breath—it's hard not to get the inkling, now that the elf has shown his hand, as though Estinien from the start wanted solely to get something from him: the satisfaction of a reaction, of a confession. Perhaps that's why he's been so relentless, playing one card after the next: Yennefer, this damn war, dramatic fucking threats. Why even now, he's still here, still will not shut up, a dog with a bone. Going on about concern for comforts as if he's doing a favour by coming here with his bullshit. It's both typical and tiring to be faced with people that far up their own ass.
But Estinien is not the first who's come into the Witcher's space unannounced with the intentions to start a fight, demanded his head, warned him of consequences, sunk claws into the scars they glimpse. Tried to get a rise out of him, because they're bored, because he's an easy target in the right place at the wrong time, because they want him to bite like the monster they see him as. He takes it all the same; a century is a long time to learn not to flinch.
Geralt's eyes haven't left Estinien's since, but when the elf rises, his gaze doesn't bother to follow. The flames in the hearth lower, then gently snuff out—an indication, perhaps, that he's about to leave this plane, whether Estinien walks away first or not. He's wasted enough time. Estinien has come here claiming what he has; Geralt will take him at his word. Maybe there are deeper motivations at play, maybe there aren't—where the few who mean anything (everything) to him are concerned, he has better priorities than cracking the surface of those who choose to put themselves in front of him as a threat. That's all there is to it.
"You have a lot on your mind." The yellow of his eyes catch the remaining torchlight—expression not bored nor even unaffected, but devoid altogether. A practiced emptiness. "Don't let me keep you."
He doesn't want to leave because Geralt told him to. Part of him knows it's childish to think that way, ineffectual, but after having been dismissed so thoroughly, he also finds himself wanting to be acknowledged. More than that, he doesn't want to be the one to cede ground, or to make things easy.
No, he will not make things easy, not for Geralt or for that witch. For all that Geralt tried to keep himself from getting involved, in Estinien's eyes, it has tied him inextricably to that woman's actions.
There's a lot of things it could be. It could be this is the way Geralt seeks to defend her. It could be that he agrees with her but doesn't want to say as much. Mayhap, all along, there has been a layer of deceit to Geralt that he didn't realize - but ultimately, he'll never know, because the man won't sacrifice an inch to tell him. He can do nothing in the face of that. Nothing but to resort to the same tactics he always has.
Yet, that isn't what weighs most heavily on his heart. It's knowing what's at stake - at knowing how outnumbered and outgunned he and Himeka may be, and now also knowing how much of an uphill battle it may be to even have the others that have been entrapped give a shite.
"How could I not?" he demands, and while his distress usually just manifests as layers of anger, there's an edge of desperation to it as well. "When everything I've ever given a damn about is at stake?"
Maybe Geralt has nothing, cares for nothing. He supposes it would be easier if he felt the same.
No, he will not make things easy, not for Geralt or for that witch. For all that Geralt tried to keep himself from getting involved, in Estinien's eyes, it has tied him inextricably to that woman's actions.
There's a lot of things it could be. It could be this is the way Geralt seeks to defend her. It could be that he agrees with her but doesn't want to say as much. Mayhap, all along, there has been a layer of deceit to Geralt that he didn't realize - but ultimately, he'll never know, because the man won't sacrifice an inch to tell him. He can do nothing in the face of that. Nothing but to resort to the same tactics he always has.
Yet, that isn't what weighs most heavily on his heart. It's knowing what's at stake - at knowing how outnumbered and outgunned he and Himeka may be, and now also knowing how much of an uphill battle it may be to even have the others that have been entrapped give a shite.
"How could I not?" he demands, and while his distress usually just manifests as layers of anger, there's an edge of desperation to it as well. "When everything I've ever given a damn about is at stake?"
Maybe Geralt has nothing, cares for nothing. He supposes it would be easier if he felt the same.
Lucky, then, that Geralt has no such qualms. He's too old for games, too old to care about egos. When he's done, he's done. He's already getting up to leave. If Estinien gets in his way, he'll only be met with a blank stare—a hint of tired of this horseshit. And he is fucking tired. He heard her out once, Renfri. And it'd meant something to him, and then he'd put a blade in her throat. So where does that leave him now?
Sure as hell not in a position where he wants to understand a man he'll likely cross swords with in the future. Estinien has his reasons; that isn't in doubt. They all do. People do not become so unyielding without something deeply set inside to burn that flame. They don't doggedly cling to a conversation that obviously isn't happening, when it would be easier to end it and move on. Geralt has his reasons, too, for holding little desire to open himself up to someone he can't make promises to. He doesn't want to hear the desperation. It's already far too much that he knows the people who are important to Estinien. Had once said he'd look after them. It's beginning to feel complicated when the reality remains starkly simple: either they steer clear of each other or one of them won't walk away. And it doesn't appear Estinien wants the former.
So no. He isn't staying to hear anything else. If Estinien chooses to come up against those closest to him, then it won't matter how much or how little Geralt understands him or his reasons. He already knows what he'll do.
Regardless of if he has an elf in his path or not, Geralt will go in whichever direction is clear—and if there's no door existing, there will be one, emerging in one of the scuffed, scarred walls. Only a brief pause stops him, despite himself. He does not look back.
"I can't help you." He pushes the door open. Follow him out, and there'll be nothing but bones on the ground. No footprints in the snow. "Find someone better."
Sure as hell not in a position where he wants to understand a man he'll likely cross swords with in the future. Estinien has his reasons; that isn't in doubt. They all do. People do not become so unyielding without something deeply set inside to burn that flame. They don't doggedly cling to a conversation that obviously isn't happening, when it would be easier to end it and move on. Geralt has his reasons, too, for holding little desire to open himself up to someone he can't make promises to. He doesn't want to hear the desperation. It's already far too much that he knows the people who are important to Estinien. Had once said he'd look after them. It's beginning to feel complicated when the reality remains starkly simple: either they steer clear of each other or one of them won't walk away. And it doesn't appear Estinien wants the former.
So no. He isn't staying to hear anything else. If Estinien chooses to come up against those closest to him, then it won't matter how much or how little Geralt understands him or his reasons. He already knows what he'll do.
Regardless of if he has an elf in his path or not, Geralt will go in whichever direction is clear—and if there's no door existing, there will be one, emerging in one of the scuffed, scarred walls. Only a brief pause stops him, despite himself. He does not look back.
"I can't help you." He pushes the door open. Follow him out, and there'll be nothing but bones on the ground. No footprints in the snow. "Find someone better."
Edited 2021-09-14 17:15 (UTC)
[ yennefer isn't entirely sure how she ends up at this door in particular. she has no memory of the door, or of this keep at all. she has no memory of anything at all, really, but she supposes that hasn't been too much of a problem as of yet. particularly with the help of her guide, a large white wolf, who has been at her side for the majority of her journey so far. she does not know of where he came, or why he came to be at her side at all, but through their long journeys through this strange place, he has been a fine companion. a welcome companion, if she is being honest with herself, for without him yennefer would undoubtedly be lost.
and in direct relation to that, she feels herself collect into something a bit less shifting. a bit less shadowed. she feels more herself, though she's not exactly certain who that is supposed to be. not exactly certain why it's this place, above the others, that pulls that from her.
she chooses not to worry too intensely about it, and as she opens up the next portal because she knows she can, because the wolf has taught her to, and as the wolf guides her through into a hallway, somewhere dark and cold, she pulls her coat more firmly around her as she continues on, up a set of stairs and then to a single door down a hall. the door itself is nothing particularly special, but yennefer can't help but be drawn further towards it, reaching for the handle and finding it...
well. finding it unlocked.
when she steps inside, she is met with a smell. it's the first thing she notices about the place, and as the door falls shut behind her, she lets herself be wrapped up in it. it's warm, comforting, familiar again in that way she's not sure she understands. she has no memories of it, of leather and of a horse she knows and of something else. something that seeps into her skin, calming her in a way she hadn't realized she had been tense. relaxing, where she hadn't realized she'd been stressed. she smells a faint hint of lilac and gooseberries and yennefer closes her eyes and settles into the warmth of the room, of the feeling of it. why am i here? she wants to ask the wolf, but she doesn't need to open her eyes to know he's left her, and so she gives in to the feeling. let's herself settle in it, for now.
it feels comforting. it feels safe, somehow, too. it feels different than all of those things as well, but yennefer isn't sure what to name those feelings quite yet.
she hopes she has the time to. hopes that she won't have to leave. hopes that somewhere in this room is an answer to all the questions she feels building up in her, even now. ]
and in direct relation to that, she feels herself collect into something a bit less shifting. a bit less shadowed. she feels more herself, though she's not exactly certain who that is supposed to be. not exactly certain why it's this place, above the others, that pulls that from her.
she chooses not to worry too intensely about it, and as she opens up the next portal because she knows she can, because the wolf has taught her to, and as the wolf guides her through into a hallway, somewhere dark and cold, she pulls her coat more firmly around her as she continues on, up a set of stairs and then to a single door down a hall. the door itself is nothing particularly special, but yennefer can't help but be drawn further towards it, reaching for the handle and finding it...
well. finding it unlocked.
when she steps inside, she is met with a smell. it's the first thing she notices about the place, and as the door falls shut behind her, she lets herself be wrapped up in it. it's warm, comforting, familiar again in that way she's not sure she understands. she has no memories of it, of leather and of a horse she knows and of something else. something that seeps into her skin, calming her in a way she hadn't realized she had been tense. relaxing, where she hadn't realized she'd been stressed. she smells a faint hint of lilac and gooseberries and yennefer closes her eyes and settles into the warmth of the room, of the feeling of it. why am i here? she wants to ask the wolf, but she doesn't need to open her eyes to know he's left her, and so she gives in to the feeling. let's herself settle in it, for now.
it feels comforting. it feels safe, somehow, too. it feels different than all of those things as well, but yennefer isn't sure what to name those feelings quite yet.
she hopes she has the time to. hopes that she won't have to leave. hopes that somewhere in this room is an answer to all the questions she feels building up in her, even now. ]
[ 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.
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.
Edited 2021-09-15 22:52 (UTC)
[ she continues to allow herself those moments - standing in the midst of a room she's never been in and has never known, yet finds herself feeling so at home in. she doesn't know why, when she has no memory of home at all. no place that comes to mind when she thinks of this feeling, but there is something in the air. even with her eyes closed, she feels as if she knows this place - the pieces of armor, the simplicity of the bed, the candles, the weapons. some part of her knows what to do if she did choose to pick one of them up, as if she's held a blade before, though not those in particular. no, they are not her's, just like she knows this building is not either.
but this room. this room is different. she finally opens her eyes to look around, but can't seem to find what she's looking for. it's a strange feeling, like there is supposed to be something here that she can't place or name, but knows is missing. something that belongs in this space, that should be here, but isn't. she wants to step further inside, to run her hands along the wood and cloth, the leather and cloak, but it is right as she is about to make that step that the door opens.
it does not startle her, nor does it surprise her, though as she turns towards it her eyes do not reflect any sign of recognition. or at least - nothing so simple. that feeling, in her chest, does fall into place.
oh, it seems to say. it was you who i was looking for.
but she does not know this man, or at least, she does not have memories of him. as she turns to face him, her eyes narrow ever so slightly, like he's a puzzle she's trying to make out without all of the pieces. ]
You know who I am?
[ he is not the first, if that is true. she has run into others who have recognized her. but this, something about this, feels very very different from those other times. yennefer continues to watch him, though she has the sinking suspicion that she will not get the answers she seeks from his face alone. ]
but this room. this room is different. she finally opens her eyes to look around, but can't seem to find what she's looking for. it's a strange feeling, like there is supposed to be something here that she can't place or name, but knows is missing. something that belongs in this space, that should be here, but isn't. she wants to step further inside, to run her hands along the wood and cloth, the leather and cloak, but it is right as she is about to make that step that the door opens.
it does not startle her, nor does it surprise her, though as she turns towards it her eyes do not reflect any sign of recognition. or at least - nothing so simple. that feeling, in her chest, does fall into place.
oh, it seems to say. it was you who i was looking for.
but she does not know this man, or at least, she does not have memories of him. as she turns to face him, her eyes narrow ever so slightly, like he's a puzzle she's trying to make out without all of the pieces. ]
You know who I am?
[ he is not the first, if that is true. she has run into others who have recognized her. but this, something about this, feels very very different from those other times. yennefer continues to watch him, though she has the sinking suspicion that she will not get the answers she seeks from his face alone. ]
[ A thickness swells in his chest. He grips the doorframe. What is she doing here? If she knows nothing about him, hasn't recognized him, what the fuck is she doing inside his space? Jaskier and Ciri both know better than to tell her. How did she find it in the first place?
(For the same reason, he thinks, that Jaskier found his way up the mountain, too, without obstacle. That the frost invariably melted every time Jaskier arrived. That Cirilla appeared. Some part of her was looking for him, or some part of him wanted the wolf to lead her here—whichever it is, he hates the thought, hates what it says about them, because once this is over, it will mean nothing. It can mean nothing. Neither of them will allow it to—Yennefer because she refuses to and Geralt because he understands there's no point.)
He swallows a breath. ] We've met.
[ That's all. They've met. A dozen times, a hundred times. They've met. His gaze roams over her, settling on her face. She looks younger. Or...not younger. It's—he's only seen this look on her when she's sleeping. Something that edges as close to contentment as it ever can with them. Except she's awake. Watching him. What's he supposed to say if she asks him what he is, how he knows her? He can't explain. This was never supposed to happen. She isn't supposed to find him. He's afraid to let her linger; equally afraid to make her leave.
Something tells him he won't be able to, unless he hurts her, drives her away. He isn't sure he can. ]
You shouldn't be here. [ It's said softly, but there's a roughness (a desperation) underneath he can't hide. Carefully, he releases his grasp on the wood. He's missed her. Worried about her, even as he knows full well she can take care of herself. And now she's here, smelling of lilacs and gooseberries, and he can still taste her on his lips. ] Where's your wolf?
(For the same reason, he thinks, that Jaskier found his way up the mountain, too, without obstacle. That the frost invariably melted every time Jaskier arrived. That Cirilla appeared. Some part of her was looking for him, or some part of him wanted the wolf to lead her here—whichever it is, he hates the thought, hates what it says about them, because once this is over, it will mean nothing. It can mean nothing. Neither of them will allow it to—Yennefer because she refuses to and Geralt because he understands there's no point.)
He swallows a breath. ] We've met.
[ That's all. They've met. A dozen times, a hundred times. They've met. His gaze roams over her, settling on her face. She looks younger. Or...not younger. It's—he's only seen this look on her when she's sleeping. Something that edges as close to contentment as it ever can with them. Except she's awake. Watching him. What's he supposed to say if she asks him what he is, how he knows her? He can't explain. This was never supposed to happen. She isn't supposed to find him. He's afraid to let her linger; equally afraid to make her leave.
Something tells him he won't be able to, unless he hurts her, drives her away. He isn't sure he can. ]
You shouldn't be here. [ It's said softly, but there's a roughness (a desperation) underneath he can't hide. Carefully, he releases his grasp on the wood. He's missed her. Worried about her, even as he knows full well she can take care of herself. And now she's here, smelling of lilacs and gooseberries, and he can still taste her on his lips. ] Where's your wolf?
[ there's a tension in him that yennefer notices almost immediately following her question. a part of her feels as though she should, perhaps, feel bad for that. perhaps even scared. something about this man is different than what she expects, and something further tells her that his anger, his tension, can be dangerous. and yet she does not feel that fear, does not feel the need to do much more than simply blink as he stares at her - confident that even now, almost especially now - she is safe, here.
we've met.
yes, she supposes they have. she doesn't question him, because regardless of if she has memories of the matter, she knows it to be true. they have met. something in her says they have met more than once. more than that, even.
it is his next set of words that has her blinking, that searching, curious look from her pulling back to something a bit more confused. not only from what he says - you shouldn't be here - but the sound of his voice. what is it he's hiding? why does that roughness sound so familiar, not necessarily because she has heard it before, but because she knows (somewhere in her) what causes it. ] My wolf? [ is it her wolf? that thought loosens the expression on her face. where did her wolf go? ] He led me here, to this room. It was unlocked, when I checked, and when I came inside... [ she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, looking content again. calm. like she belongs. when her eyes open back up again, they are clear. all of her feels a little more clear. ]
It's warmer in here than the rest of this place. [ her eyes go to the door behind him, then back to his face. she likes the cut of his jaw, the gold of his eyes. it is somehow not at all strange to her, that his eyes are such a brilliant gold. they are his. ] Is this your room?
we've met.
yes, she supposes they have. she doesn't question him, because regardless of if she has memories of the matter, she knows it to be true. they have met. something in her says they have met more than once. more than that, even.
it is his next set of words that has her blinking, that searching, curious look from her pulling back to something a bit more confused. not only from what he says - you shouldn't be here - but the sound of his voice. what is it he's hiding? why does that roughness sound so familiar, not necessarily because she has heard it before, but because she knows (somewhere in her) what causes it. ] My wolf? [ is it her wolf? that thought loosens the expression on her face. where did her wolf go? ] He led me here, to this room. It was unlocked, when I checked, and when I came inside... [ she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, looking content again. calm. like she belongs. when her eyes open back up again, they are clear. all of her feels a little more clear. ]
It's warmer in here than the rest of this place. [ her eyes go to the door behind him, then back to his face. she likes the cut of his jaw, the gold of his eyes. it is somehow not at all strange to her, that his eyes are such a brilliant gold. they are his. ] Is this your room?
Page 1 of 55