[One of a kind? That thin thing? Could belong to a beggar or be a first draft for what could be a fine coat. No padding, no lining. Does it even provide warmth at all? At least now with his mock up the fashion he's decently equip.
Passing through the trees there's a clearing ahead. That will do well for a portal and to set up camp to wait for the witcher.]
A school. It has its purpose, though not for education. For politics more than anything.
[There's no fondness for it in her heart if she were honest. Yennefer learned so much and suffered so greatly. Now here she is. Which is also what adds to her surprise.]
You didn't undergo any transformation? No schooling either.
[ That disdain is as easy to pick up on as a smack to the face. He wears layers! It works just fine when he isn't having to traipse through the bloody forest that time forgot. ]
Doesn't sound like a thing you're keen on remembering. I'm not overly fond of politics myself.
[ These woods, though, they have an odd feeling to them. Like there's something lurking, he can feel it. Won't quite shake off. ]
We don't have schools. [ At best you might find an old school type that'll take you on as an apprentice but that is a dying art in and of itself. ] I taught myself.
[ He's distracted still by the ill sensation around them. What is that? His gut serves him well. So sue him if he tenses up when she gets close enough to inspect his features. ]
[Whatever place he is from it seems so terribly backwards. No schools to educate the magical, so no standardization of magic practices. True chaos. Would that be a bad thing? Yennefer has wondered if she were left alone what she could have been able to accomplish. She would not have had the long, long life that she has nor the body to be able to pass through all manner of society.
Yennefer stares into John's face, over his brow, his eyes. Fine lines though none so deep just yet. Her own face will never be much older than twenty.]
It is custom to take on appearance for your practices in the world. Men usually choose beards, height and wrinkles. Whatever color you fancy. All together going for a more wise looking, more worldly face so as to command respect.
[That unease might be Geralt's quarry. Or the wood and it's secrets.]
Image in of itself is a kind of political ground. We are taught it's value.
[ They seem to get by well enough on their own as it stands. Of course, there are rogues like Faust. Dark magic users who John has run toe to toe with more than one time in his life so far. Sacrifices he's made. Me or magic, John.
For all the hell he gave Gaz about the junk---there he was, a hopeless addict. Addicted to magic. To power. There's nothing like it. It took that daft, worthless feeling boy from the Pool and made something more of him. It was his salvation. ]
Told you, we don't do that where I'm from. Some like to put on airs and glamours but I've never been keen on it. This is who I am, take it or leave it.
[ A soft ha at the idea of respect. Not likely to be something he ever gets. Papa Midnite loves to tell him how he is a thief of tradition and all manner of other unsavory things. ]
I do what I do and if somebody doesn't like the way I look while doing it they can piss off.
[While he has said that no, he doesn't do glamour or charm his image, he changed his clothes. More than that while his face is youthful his eyes are deep, older. Perhaps a might haunted. That's where her eyes meet his before pursing her lips to step back.]
I see. That is how it should be. Just... unexpected to hear.
[Yennefer tilts her head. The wind blows and trees crunch.]
Many things. Wolves, slyvans, dryads.... I suspect a spriggan given how long it's taking. Are you afraid, Just John? The only thing more dangerous here is the Witcher. We'll be fine.
[ No, he doesn't. He likes his look and the way he looks. Sure, he's done glamour spells more than a handful of times but he's not keen on it unless it is to gain something. Or slip by unnoticed. As far as the eyes, they are. Haunted, that is. Guilt is something he carries with him always, hidden under that arrogance. ]
Sounds like you could do with a change of scenery then.
[ This forest feels old. Older than any place he's visited on his world. Like it has eyes and more. There's inherent magic to it and he can feel it licking at his aura. ]
I'm not afraid. Seen far worse than your spriggan. Just feels strange is all. I've never been to a place like your Continent before.
[ John casts off the glamor. If they are to send him back then he can't wander back through a portal looking like a Ren Faire reject. Though her comment earns a soft laugh. ]
Wouldn't want to ruin your company. And if they're missing me then we are in a bad way.
[ There's a softer look that does imply that someone would be missing him. John would be missing them as well. Quick jaunt to another dimension is one thing. He's not keen on staying when he's got such good company back in the Big Apple. ]
You're from here. [ Countered. ] I dunno. Feels almost familiar.
And don't worry that bastard nor any of his friends will come bother the likes of you and yours once you get me out of your hair. Anyways, Hell isn't keen on sending more people to wind up bested by me so soon. Even they have limits and rules for their one-off fights.
There are enough wild things to deal with as it stands.
[And they handled it well enough. John was comfortable in such a scrap so it must be true.]
Charming, alas we must part. Yes. Given that you are not from a place I have seen, may I see it in your thoughts? That will ensure accuracy. Take my hand.
[Offering it out, this would be the first time they touch, wouldn't it?]
[ He's had many a scrap with a low-level demon looking to rise in the ranks. He's tussled with one or two higher ones as well. Nergal was the one that got him better at what he does. His refusal to fail another child as he did with Astra. ]
Don't sound so broken up about it.
[ A gentle tease. They can do that, right? Not much better bonding than fighting a demon and running from angry, drunk locals. He nods and takes her hand.
As soon as their hands clasp it's like a connection flairs to life like a lightning bolt straight out of the sky. It's quick and forceful to a point that all John can do is ride it out. He can't even think of tamping down his mental shields to try and keep her out.
Claws and blue fire. A dark door opens. Natalie. Alex. Astra. John, get me out of here! It's magic or me. You can't save her. John finally has enough presence of mind to break the connection and stumbles back a step or two, reeling from the magic still strong around them. ]
Something tells me that you are used to the sound of weeping women and bittersweet farewells.
[Her eyes are dry and the moment before contact, Yennefer is even smiling. The touch and her posture straightens. Violet eyes widen and her mouth drops open. Usually when she taps into minds it's like reading a sign. A door has flung open and pulled her into darkness to watch a staging of events whirl around her. The force has blown back the dirt, dry leaves and branches from where they stand to clear the forest floor.
She can't catch her breath but blink. Screaming, crying, names, voices, the smell like before only acrid. Yennefer blinks and her heart beats so hard it hurts.]
I don't--that wasn't what I wanted.
[Both hands clasp over her heart and her eyes harden to look at him. Opening her mouth but no words come out.]
[ The flashes he gets from her are just as strong as those she gleaned from him. Broken mirror. Screaming. Fire. Sisters. When he comes out of it with his head clearing, there is dirt blown back from their connection. Leaves are still falling from being blown off the trees. Some of the trunks nearest to them are busted or cracked.
His breathing is ragged and his voice shakes. ]
Not what I was after either. I don't---I've never had that happen before.
[ But Geralt who was coming up just outside of the scene has. It happened with Pavetta in the grand hall of Cintra. It's old magic. Primal and chaotic.
But he has bigger problems than that currently. His quarry is dead but he is in little better shape. ]
You've made a friend I see.
[ Because dry humor is the way to go when one is in a bad way. ]
[Yennefer closes her eyes and wills herself to stand straighter again. Out of the past, safe and removed from what came before. She's a powerful sorceress not a pig farmer's daughter.]
You and your magic--[she can't complete her thought. It's just as well. It was not kind at all. Seeing him in such a state has helped her find her strength.] Nevermind that. Geralt, you must sit.
[John gets a solid stare as she grabs her bag and comes closer. Wet with river water, mud and blood she needs to see where to start.]
[ John takes a few moments to gather his wits and protections about him again. A muttered bit of spellwork and he feels more level-headed again. Leastways until the big, brooding sort stumbles in. ]
John. [ He sniffs and keeps his face impassive. There is little about him that is just anything if his keen senses are anything to go off of. He sits heavily and works on getting his armor out of the way. His movements are slow and sluggish.
John moves over to give a hand. ]
I can help. I'm pretty good in a pinch.
[ Geralt fumbles with a small bag that holds vials of his potions and it makes a clinking sound that proves the last hit that threw him into a tree did, in fact, break them. Damn.
If Yenn trusts this man then he sees no reason why he shouldn't. He lets him take the satchel from him. ]
What was it that you fought, Geralt? Spriggan? A werewolf?
[Something with talons or claws that catch and the ability to fling him about like a rag doll. There's blood in his hair and a spool of woven cotton comes up, a bottle of vodka too.]
Take care. There are more hands now than usual, you have no need to strain.
[Which is far removed from how she has been speaking to John. Her face falls listening to the glass tinkle.]
I could have held those.
[Yennefer still being Yennefer.]
John, you're fond of introductions. Geralt of Rivia, the white haired witcher. He has other titles and hates them all.
[ John carefully works on laying open the bag as Geralt lets Yennefer help him with his armor. His head throbs as his side does. It was a hard battle but he bested the beast. ]
I didn't expect to need you to.
[ He admits.
John offers a quirk of a smile at the introduction. ]
Can't say I blame you, mate. I've gotten called loads of thing. Many of them true, mind, but that doesn't mean I prefer them.
[ Contents laid out on the ground next to them, John waves a hand and focuses his magic. Uttered spellwork falls effortlessly from his lips and the bottles begin to repair themselves with their mixtures still intact. After it is done, he looks to the Witcher. ]
[What was it that John said of them? She makes a scoffing noise in her throat and for all the dainty airs she puts on, she doesn't flinch from the blood and grime on her hands. Leather studded armor pieces and metal move finally. Not the worst though truly was put through the ringer.
The echoing of cries for help and despair from only moments ago makes her want to clutch at him. And remembering the cold nights alone in Aretuza, certain to be cast out to be nothing and no one. Why was that transmitted? She never tells that to anyone. Pains of the past ache. Yennefer wants to be soothed. Not here, not now and not with John present. For now her touch is what will emit her affection. Finally looking from Geralt to John she sees the satchel no longer a wreck.
Maybe he is useful.]
White gull?
[Mild enough for pain, enough to keep him awake. A drop is all it takes to dull what smarts on a normal person. A witcher can handle more. There are plenty of bandages and other wounds to mend.]
[ John is no stranger to grime, blood and muck of all kinds. Neither is she from the looks of it. Nor him.
He casts a glance back down at the bottles, sorting and gently turning them over. He finds the one he's looking for and uncorks it to offer over. Geralt takes it with a grunt and manages after a couple of tries to actually drink it.
It seems to help pretty immediately. Good stuff then. ]
Not my first jaunt around potions.
[ He works on getting more armor out of the way and helping to bandage and mend what he is able. It takes time. It's nearly dark by the time they finish. Geralt is alert still but his exhaustion is clear. ]
[Humor now that she's no longer worried. The trees and the talons of branches have made their mark. The worst of it, of course, across his chest and neck. Yennefer's magic is spent ensuring the deepest portions are no longer a threat to his life. The cotton spool of cloth is put to the test.]
John, thank you. I couldn't have been able to treat him this fast on my own. I can't be of any aid in getting you home, not tonight.
[She hesitates on how to approach the subject of what had happened. The reaction. Her violet eyes move from both men to start a fire.]
[ John sees her relax by degrees as they work and heal him. By the time they are done, everyone is exhausted and ready to call it from the way he sees it. Geralt mutters thanks but he's leaning back against the trunk nearest, eyes struggling to stay open.
John shakes his head when she begins to explain. ]
It's all right. Not like either of us figured any of this would happen. I was glad to help.
[ He doesn't want to bring up what happened or what was gleaned from their connection. ]
[The fire ignites easily. She still takes time to arrange stones to keep it from spreading further than the kindling. The leather bag she has she pulls out wine and sheep skins. One immediately goes to Geralt.]
That has never happened before.
[As though she takes personal offense. Yennefer looks at John, as though trying to decipher thoughts and origin by looks alone. No solutions, same as before when he popped into her room at the inn.]
...Roach is in the forest. Somewhere. A chestnut. Can you call her? Best she stays closer to us. Knowing Geralt he has items in the saddlebags too.
[Speaking of the inn, she moves to kneel by Geralt. Pushing back his sweat and blood caked hair with an unnecessarily careful gesture.]
[ Geralt is having difficulty staying awake. Whether from the energy expended from the fight, his wounds, or a mixture of both. It's also due to his being more relaxed with his chosen company.
John tenses a little when she says what she does. He doesn't want to go into that now. ]
I'll look for her.
[ Any excuse not to impose on their little moment and avoid talking about his tragic past. He'll take it. ]
It's all right, Yenn. [ Little softer and slower. He watches John go out of earshot. ] He's a strange one. Impossible, maybe.
She is reasonable. Most times. Talk to her gently. I'm told that's the secret.
[Yennefer doesn't talk to horses. Not the way Geralt does. Does John even? His world is different than theirs. And he is going off into the forest without a cloak or decent outfit.
The echoes of before, people screaming for him. Pain. Flames. Yennefer lets herself settle closer, minding where she touches the Witcher.]
...he appeared suddenly. I was doing research. Strange is a start to describe him.
[No mind reading is required as to what. Geralt knows her well by now.]
[ He tromps out into the underbrush and calls out for this horse. He's not really sure what direction to go. If he uses a spell to help follow a trail the other man used, so what.
It takes some time but he does find her, coming up on her easy-like. ]
Easy there, love. Your man is back there with his other lady friend. Figured I could reunite the pair of you. Sounds good, yeah?
[ Geralt's brow furrows. He knows what she was working on. ]
The spell went wrong? [ He hums tiredly. ] He's---he's part Witcher.
[Roach had found a thatch of delicious grass and is not expecting company. She lifts her head and nickers. Ears move and cock, listening to him speak. Once close enough, John gets a friendly headbutt to the chest.
At the little makeshift camp, Yen pulls back to look at him. Did he hit his head?]
My spells don't go wrong. The chaos opened and he fell out. That was not my bidding. [But never mind that she scrunches her eyes shut a second before speaking.]
Part Witcher? There aren't any parts. His eyes. His stature. He's a mage of some sort. Why are you saying this?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[One of a kind? That thin thing? Could belong to a beggar or be a first draft for what could be a fine coat. No padding, no lining. Does it even provide warmth at all? At least now with his mock up the fashion he's decently equip.
Passing through the trees there's a clearing ahead. That will do well for a portal and to set up camp to wait for the witcher.]
A school. It has its purpose, though not for education. For politics more than anything.
[There's no fondness for it in her heart if she were honest. Yennefer learned so much and suffered so greatly. Now here she is. Which is also what adds to her surprise.]
You didn't undergo any transformation? No schooling either.
[She turns to look at him, really look at him.]
This is your face? Your eyes? Everything?
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[ That disdain is as easy to pick up on as a smack to the face. He wears layers! It works just fine when he isn't having to traipse through the bloody forest that time forgot. ]
Doesn't sound like a thing you're keen on remembering. I'm not overly fond of politics myself.
[ These woods, though, they have an odd feeling to them. Like there's something lurking, he can feel it. Won't quite shake off. ]
We don't have schools. [ At best you might find an old school type that'll take you on as an apprentice but that is a dying art in and of itself. ] I taught myself.
[ He's distracted still by the ill sensation around them. What is that? His gut serves him well. So sue him if he tenses up when she gets close enough to inspect his features. ]
Yeah, all mine. What else would I be wearing?
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Yennefer stares into John's face, over his brow, his eyes. Fine lines though none so deep just yet. Her own face will never be much older than twenty.]
It is custom to take on appearance for your practices in the world. Men usually choose beards, height and wrinkles. Whatever color you fancy. All together going for a more wise looking, more worldly face so as to command respect.
[That unease might be Geralt's quarry. Or the wood and it's secrets.]
Image in of itself is a kind of political ground. We are taught it's value.
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For all the hell he gave Gaz about the junk---there he was, a hopeless addict. Addicted to magic. To power. There's nothing like it. It took that daft, worthless feeling boy from the Pool and made something more of him. It was his salvation. ]
Told you, we don't do that where I'm from. Some like to put on airs and glamours but I've never been keen on it. This is who I am, take it or leave it.
[ A soft ha at the idea of respect. Not likely to be something he ever gets. Papa Midnite loves to tell him how he is a thief of tradition and all manner of other unsavory things. ]
I do what I do and if somebody doesn't like the way I look while doing it they can piss off.
[ That unease is growing. ]
Do you know these woods? What's here with us?
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I see. That is how it should be. Just... unexpected to hear.
[Yennefer tilts her head. The wind blows and trees crunch.]
Many things. Wolves, slyvans, dryads.... I suspect a spriggan given how long it's taking. Are you afraid, Just John? The only thing more dangerous here is the Witcher. We'll be fine.
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Sounds like you could do with a change of scenery then.
[ This forest feels old. Older than any place he's visited on his world. Like it has eyes and more. There's inherent magic to it and he can feel it licking at his aura. ]
I'm not afraid. Seen far worse than your spriggan. Just feels strange is all. I've never been to a place like your Continent before.
[ Somehow it feels like it should be familiar. ]
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[She sets the leather bag down.]
Shall I try and send you back now? I'm expecting company. And I'm sure the kingdom of Georgia is greatly missing their sorcerer.
[A long groan comes through the trees. It could be the trunks bending to the wind. Though Yennefer knows better.]
Feels like nothing. Unless your dear comrade from the inn has brothers.
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[ John casts off the glamor. If they are to send him back then he can't wander back through a portal looking like a Ren Faire reject. Though her comment earns a soft laugh. ]
Wouldn't want to ruin your company. And if they're missing me then we are in a bad way.
[ There's a softer look that does imply that someone would be missing him. John would be missing them as well. Quick jaunt to another dimension is one thing. He's not keen on staying when he's got such good company back in the Big Apple. ]
You're from here. [ Countered. ] I dunno. Feels almost familiar.
And don't worry that bastard nor any of his friends will come bother the likes of you and yours once you get me out of your hair. Anyways, Hell isn't keen on sending more people to wind up bested by me so soon. Even they have limits and rules for their one-off fights.
Let's do this.
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[Gods what an outfit. As to the demon she nods.]
There are enough wild things to deal with as it stands.
[And they handled it well enough. John was comfortable in such a scrap so it must be true.]
Charming, alas we must part. Yes. Given that you are not from a place I have seen, may I see it in your thoughts? That will ensure accuracy. Take my hand.
[Offering it out, this would be the first time they touch, wouldn't it?]
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[ Said with no small amount of sarcasm. ]
Truer words.
[ He's had many a scrap with a low-level demon looking to rise in the ranks. He's tussled with one or two higher ones as well. Nergal was the one that got him better at what he does. His refusal to fail another child as he did with Astra. ]
Don't sound so broken up about it.
[ A gentle tease. They can do that, right? Not much better bonding than fighting a demon and running from angry, drunk locals. He nods and takes her hand.
As soon as their hands clasp it's like a connection flairs to life like a lightning bolt straight out of the sky. It's quick and forceful to a point that all John can do is ride it out. He can't even think of tamping down his mental shields to try and keep her out.
Claws and blue fire. A dark door opens. Natalie. Alex. Astra. John, get me out of here! It's magic or me. You can't save her. John finally has enough presence of mind to break the connection and stumbles back a step or two, reeling from the magic still strong around them. ]
What the bloody hell was that?
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[Her eyes are dry and the moment before contact, Yennefer is even smiling. The touch and her posture straightens. Violet eyes widen and her mouth drops open. Usually when she taps into minds it's like reading a sign. A door has flung open and pulled her into darkness to watch a staging of events whirl around her. The force has blown back the dirt, dry leaves and branches from where they stand to clear the forest floor.
She can't catch her breath but blink. Screaming, crying, names, voices, the smell like before only acrid. Yennefer blinks and her heart beats so hard it hurts.]
I don't--that wasn't what I wanted.
[Both hands clasp over her heart and her eyes harden to look at him. Opening her mouth but no words come out.]
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[ The flashes he gets from her are just as strong as those she gleaned from him. Broken mirror. Screaming. Fire. Sisters. When he comes out of it with his head clearing, there is dirt blown back from their connection. Leaves are still falling from being blown off the trees. Some of the trunks nearest to them are busted or cracked.
His breathing is ragged and his voice shakes. ]
Not what I was after either. I don't---I've never had that happen before.
[ But Geralt who was coming up just outside of the scene has. It happened with Pavetta in the grand hall of Cintra. It's old magic. Primal and chaotic.
But he has bigger problems than that currently. His quarry is dead but he is in little better shape. ]
You've made a friend I see.
[ Because dry humor is the way to go when one is in a bad way. ]
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You and your magic--[she can't complete her thought. It's just as well. It was not kind at all. Seeing him in such a state has helped her find her strength.] Nevermind that. Geralt, you must sit.
[John gets a solid stare as she grabs her bag and comes closer. Wet with river water, mud and blood she needs to see where to start.]
This is Just John. He's a mage.
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John. [ He sniffs and keeps his face impassive. There is little about him that is just anything if his keen senses are anything to go off of. He sits heavily and works on getting his armor out of the way. His movements are slow and sluggish.
John moves over to give a hand. ]
I can help. I'm pretty good in a pinch.
[ Geralt fumbles with a small bag that holds vials of his potions and it makes a clinking sound that proves the last hit that threw him into a tree did, in fact, break them. Damn.
If Yenn trusts this man then he sees no reason why he shouldn't. He lets him take the satchel from him. ]
Here, I can have a look.
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[Something with talons or claws that catch and the ability to fling him about like a rag doll. There's blood in his hair and a spool of woven cotton comes up, a bottle of vodka too.]
Take care. There are more hands now than usual, you have no need to strain.
[Which is far removed from how she has been speaking to John. Her face falls listening to the glass tinkle.]
I could have held those.
[Yennefer still being Yennefer.]
John, you're fond of introductions. Geralt of Rivia, the white haired witcher. He has other titles and hates them all.
no subject
Spriggan.
[ John carefully works on laying open the bag as Geralt lets Yennefer help him with his armor. His head throbs as his side does. It was a hard battle but he bested the beast. ]
I didn't expect to need you to.
[ He admits.
John offers a quirk of a smile at the introduction. ]
Can't say I blame you, mate. I've gotten called loads of thing. Many of them true, mind, but that doesn't mean I prefer them.
[ Contents laid out on the ground next to them, John waves a hand and focuses his magic. Uttered spellwork falls effortlessly from his lips and the bottles begin to repair themselves with their mixtures still intact. After it is done, he looks to the Witcher. ]
Any one of these you need in particular?
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[What was it that John said of them? She makes a scoffing noise in her throat and for all the dainty airs she puts on, she doesn't flinch from the blood and grime on her hands. Leather studded armor pieces and metal move finally. Not the worst though truly was put through the ringer.
The echoing of cries for help and despair from only moments ago makes her want to clutch at him. And remembering the cold nights alone in Aretuza, certain to be cast out to be nothing and no one. Why was that transmitted? She never tells that to anyone. Pains of the past ache. Yennefer wants to be soothed. Not here, not now and not with John present. For now her touch is what will emit her affection. Finally looking from Geralt to John she sees the satchel no longer a wreck.
Maybe he is useful.]
White gull?
[Mild enough for pain, enough to keep him awake. A drop is all it takes to dull what smarts on a normal person. A witcher can handle more. There are plenty of bandages and other wounds to mend.]
Mind the labels.
[Because it will make all the difference.]
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He casts a glance back down at the bottles, sorting and gently turning them over. He finds the one he's looking for and uncorks it to offer over. Geralt takes it with a grunt and manages after a couple of tries to actually drink it.
It seems to help pretty immediately. Good stuff then. ]
Not my first jaunt around potions.
[ He works on getting more armor out of the way and helping to bandage and mend what he is able. It takes time. It's nearly dark by the time they finish. Geralt is alert still but his exhaustion is clear. ]
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[Humor now that she's no longer worried. The trees and the talons of branches have made their mark. The worst of it, of course, across his chest and neck. Yennefer's magic is spent ensuring the deepest portions are no longer a threat to his life. The cotton spool of cloth is put to the test.]
John, thank you. I couldn't have been able to treat him this fast on my own. I can't be of any aid in getting you home, not tonight.
[She hesitates on how to approach the subject of what had happened. The reaction. Her violet eyes move from both men to start a fire.]
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[ John sees her relax by degrees as they work and heal him. By the time they are done, everyone is exhausted and ready to call it from the way he sees it. Geralt mutters thanks but he's leaning back against the trunk nearest, eyes struggling to stay open.
John shakes his head when she begins to explain. ]
It's all right. Not like either of us figured any of this would happen. I was glad to help.
[ He doesn't want to bring up what happened or what was gleaned from their connection. ]
Anything else I can lend a hand with?
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That has never happened before.
[As though she takes personal offense. Yennefer looks at John, as though trying to decipher thoughts and origin by looks alone. No solutions, same as before when he popped into her room at the inn.]
...Roach is in the forest. Somewhere. A chestnut. Can you call her? Best she stays closer to us. Knowing Geralt he has items in the saddlebags too.
[Speaking of the inn, she moves to kneel by Geralt. Pushing back his sweat and blood caked hair with an unnecessarily careful gesture.]
I promised you a bath and a bed, not tonight.
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John tenses a little when she says what she does. He doesn't want to go into that now. ]
I'll look for her.
[ Any excuse not to impose on their little moment and avoid talking about his tragic past. He'll take it. ]
It's all right, Yenn. [ Little softer and slower. He watches John go out of earshot. ] He's a strange one. Impossible, maybe.
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[Yennefer doesn't talk to horses. Not the way Geralt does. Does John even? His world is different than theirs. And he is going off into the forest without a cloak or decent outfit.
The echoes of before, people screaming for him. Pain. Flames. Yennefer lets herself settle closer, minding where she touches the Witcher.]
...he appeared suddenly. I was doing research. Strange is a start to describe him.
[No mind reading is required as to what. Geralt knows her well by now.]
no subject
[ He tromps out into the underbrush and calls out for this horse. He's not really sure what direction to go. If he uses a spell to help follow a trail the other man used, so what.
It takes some time but he does find her, coming up on her easy-like. ]
Easy there, love. Your man is back there with his other lady friend. Figured I could reunite the pair of you. Sounds good, yeah?
[ Geralt's brow furrows. He knows what she was working on. ]
The spell went wrong? [ He hums tiredly. ] He's---he's part Witcher.
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At the little makeshift camp, Yen pulls back to look at him. Did he hit his head?]
My spells don't go wrong. The chaos opened and he fell out. That was not my bidding. [But never mind that she scrunches her eyes shut a second before speaking.]
Part Witcher? There aren't any parts. His eyes. His stature. He's a mage of some sort. Why are you saying this?
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wrap this one?
sounds good <3