The smell of lavender was subtle on the air as Geralt opened the doors of the former day-room, looking around at the improvements Shani had made since the last time he had been allowed inside. It had been a few days since his return to Corvo Bianco, and though at first she had been insistent he stay on bedrest, she had since relented enough to allow him the option of wandering the grounds, granting him a small space he was sure she knew he needed to keep from being driven mad by the confines of his bed. He was thankful to her for her vigilant care, though he could not help wondering whether it was truly working; his entire life on the path had consisted of walking off injuries like these, or dosing himself with enough potions that he could not feel the pain, and he could not help feeling that those injuries had healed much faster than this one seemed to be doing on medical salves and bedrest.
The thought of his injured leg was quickly pushed from his mind as he looked around the clinic, taking in the ambience Shani had created; the couches they had moved into the former day-room were now draped with folds of cloth, keeping them protected for patients' use, and the books that had been stacked on one of the tables before were now neatly arranged in one of the many bookshelves, the spines freshly polished to make them look new. A desk had been moved into a corner of the room, right under one of the large, scenic windows, allowing Shani plentiful light with which to write her prescriptions. The young medic was already standing near the door as Geralt entered, and she smiled as she saw him admiring her progress, opening her hands to indicate around at the softly-lit room, which was already beginning to resemble a functional clinic.
"How do you like it?" Shani asked, beaming.
Geralt nodded in approval, impressed with her work, before turning to give her a small, encouraging smile. "Looks great," he told her. "Really coming together."
"I'm very excited," Shani admitted, clasping her hands. "The duchy's approval still hasn't come through, but I've been working to get it ready to open as soon as it does." Moving over to the windows, she smiled out at the sunlit vineyard, taking in a deep breath of lavender air as she admired the scenic view, and Geralt paused a bit as he watched her, noting how much more at ease she seemed with the promise of work to do. That was Shani, after all – only happy when she had something to occupy her mind – and he found himself smiling fondly at the thought, glad she was finally beginning to settle in.
"I gave Barnabas-Basil a list of medical supplies, and he said he'd send the list into town," Shani continued, excitedly. "I told them where they could get everything, so hopefully that helps. They say Toussaint's merchants are good at procuring things anyway, so I'm not too concerned."
"Sounds great," Geralt answered. "I'm sure they'll be able to find everything." Everything about Shani seemed more relaxed now, he noticed – even her attire had loosened up a bit. Instead of her usual corset and vest, she now wore a soft, loose blouse – one of his – with loose-fitting pants and a house-robe he recognized as the smoking-jacket he had been gifted by Anna Henrietta during one of her visits to the estate. He figured this was all likely Yennefer's doing, offering Shani anything she felt would help make the doctor feel more at home, and he suppressed a chuckle at the thought of the two of them rummaging through his clothing-chest while he was away in town.
Shani did not even seem to notice his amusement, turning away from the window after a moment, before crossing instead to one of the covered chaises, sitting down and pulling a stack of books from the nearest couchside table onto her lap. "Speaking of finding things," she told him, eagerly. "I found the book you were telling me about. Witcher Mutations: An Introduction To Research. I've been reading it, looking for what the researchers from Oxenfurt could have done to reverse your mutations, but…" Shaking her head, she frowned a bit, opening the tome to a bookmarked page, and Geralt quickly crossed the room to join her on the next couch over, settling in to watch as she perused the mysterious text.
"I found the other one you told me about, too," Shani added, looking up at the witcher now sitting across from her. "The So-Called Giant Centipedes, Or My Only Comfort In Exile… interesting in its own right, but not quite as useful as the first book on actual witchers, sadly." Geralt frowned at the wordy title, having not remembered it being quite so long, but he supposed he had not been paying very close attention to it at the time he had first picked it up; there had been so many other more interesting things in Moreau's laboratory at the time that he felt he could hardly be blamed for not being wholly attentive to a book about bugs. Closing the book on witchers in her lap, Shani sighed, crossing her wrists over the edge of the tome, before looking up at Geralt again, disappointed.
"He was clearly on the right path with his research," she told him. "His methods were brutal, inhumane, but… he was collecting the right information. Through these books, I mean. Not through experimentation." Frowning a bit more, she twisted her lips, her pretty brow furrowing in concentration. "I wish he'd had some sort of journal or record where he kept the information he did learn through his experiments," she added, nodding her head at the thought. "They were awful, from what little you've told me about them, but… maybe he learned something through them that could help."
"Moreau had a journal," Geralt returned, his brow furrowing as he remembered the disappointment of looking for the book, only to have it already gone before he could find where it had been put to rest. "Someone took it. Grave robbers. Never caught them, so never got it back, but he kept other records. Megascope crystals." He paused at this, thinking as he stared down at the book in Shani's lap, trying to remember where he had stashed the crystals after his trip to Moreau's lab. He had left most of the lab alone, not wanting to disturb the mausoleum dedicated to a father's loss, but the megascope crystals and the records they contained had seemed particularly important at the time, important enough to warrant taking them the lab and bringing them home to his estate instead. He figured that if thieves were brazen enough to steal Moreau's journal from his grave, then the only way to ensure the crystals were not similarly lost would be to hold onto them, himself.
He had not told Yennefer about the crystals when he had brought them home from the laboratory, not wanting her to scold him for bringing such macabre keepsakes into her house – but he had kept them safe nonetheless, stashing them away in the subterranean cellar-laboratory of Corvo Bianco, far from the sticky fingers of scavengers and those who might seek to abuse the information they contained.
"Megascope crystals?" Shani repeated, pressing her lips into a thoughtful pink line. "I don't suppose you have those, either."
"I do," Geralt returned, nodding. "Can't risk watching them when Yen's around, though. Don't think she knows I have them. Don't think she'd be happy if she did."
Shani hummed at the news, folding her arms around the books in her lap, sucking her lip as she tried to think of a way around the problem. "Do you think you could distract her for a bit?" she finally asked, causing Geralt to look up at the question. Shani shrugged at his surprise, undeterred, and Geralt could detect a familiar glint in her eyes, the same puckish determination he had seen years back when she had talked her way into gaining access for an entire group of infiltrators into Myhrman's tower. "When you have time to do it, of course," she added, her soft lips starting to curl into a grin. "Once you're better. It wouldn't have to be long. Only however long the records last. I'd only need to watch them once, then I'd put them right back where I found them."
"Hm," Geralt answered, unable to help a small smirk of his own at her brazen cheek. "Yeah. Think I can manage that. Already got a few ideas how to do it." Just then, a new thought occurred to him, and he paused, the smile falling from his face again. "Need to use Yen's megascope to watch it, though," he added, gravely. "She doesn't usually like people touching her stuff. Tried to use it once for a joke. She nearly took my head."
"What kind of joke can you play with a megascope?" Shani asked, raising a curious brow.
Geralt grunted, folding his arms uncomfortably. "Witcher jokes," he explained, purposefully vague. "Not very funny."
"Oh, come on," Shani laughed, nudging his ankle with the toe of her boot. "It can't have been as bad as all that. Not like you dressed as sorceresses and prank-called the Lodge."
"Yen needs to be out of the house if you're gonna use the megascope," Geralt answered, quickly changing the subject. "Need some way to lure her out. So fixated on remodelling the house for the baby, it's gonna be hard."
Shani's smile lit up instantly at the comment, and she stared across knowingly at Geralt for a moment, before finally looking down to her books again, tracing a finger thoughtfully along the edge of the text. "You said 'baby' that time," she told him, quietly, causing him to blink at the observation. He had not even noticed his use of the word; it had come so naturally that he had nearly forgotten it as soon as it had crossed his lips. Setting her books aside on the table again, Shani smoothed the front of her baggy pants, before resting her palms on her knees as she looked up at Geralt again, content. "Why not ask her to go into town with you to buy a crib?" she suggested. "Ever since I got here, she's been asking about a crib. I'm just not that picky, Geralt. If it's nice, I'll like it. But it's clearly important to her to get one she thinks is just right. So why not use that to your advantage?"
"Might work," Geralt agreed, nodding along, still a bit flustered. "Been after me too about getting you to talk about it. Be helpful if I had a starting point, though. Might help convince her better."
Sucking her lip again, Shani paused, her hazel eyes narrowing as she thought on how to answer. "Tell her… I want a functional crib," she said at last. "Nothing too fussy. Easy to use. Maybe a mobile, if she's really determined, but… the rest is up to her."
"Hm," Geralt returned, dryly. "Thought you wanted her distracted for a day. Not until the baby was actually born."
Shani snorted at the observation, looking down again to her boots. "Alright, Geralt," she said, chuckling. "A nice wood crib, then. Natural. One that matches the upstairs décor. And… a frog mobile. The rest is up to her."
"Frogs," Geralt repeated, smirking at the detail. "Right. Fit for a prince."
"Or a princess," Shani returned, softly, looking up to smile across at him.
Geralt grunted softly as he swung his injured leg out of bed, letting out a hiss and sigh as his still-tender foot came to rest on the chilly hardwood floor. Stealing a glance behind him, he paused a moment, making sure his morning stirring had not disturbed his wife, before running his hand back through his silvery hair and looking down to his pockmarked leg, still pale from the bandages he had only recently been given permission to remove. It had been a week since his encounter with the monster in the sewer, but the scars on his leg were still tender to the touch, and he gritted his teeth as he ran his fingers gently over the deepest of them, remembering how he had pulled a full tooth from one right after the battle had been won.
It had taken his leg more time to heal than he had originally anticipated – along with several venom-cancelling alchemical concoctions he had not even thought to brew until Shani and Yennefer had suggested them – but it had eventually stopped swelling and oozing after a while, its colour turning from a sickly grey to a less disconcertingly angry red, and from there back to his natural ashy tan, though with many more new scars than the last time he remembered looking at it.
He was always surprised by the number of scars he had managed to attain over the years every time he looked at his own body. Even Shani had commented on his ability to collect them, something a bit disconcerting to hear coming from someone for whom scars were a natural part of life. Not that scars were not natural for the life of a witcher; he could not think of a single man or woman from the path who did not have at least a few to their name, but he also admittedly could not think of many who had as many as he did, or gained them with as much abandon as he seemed to, at least in Shani's eyes.
A sudden soft hand on his back let Geralt know that Yennefer was awake as well, and he turned to look back towards her again, noting the slow, lazy blink of her violet eyes that made it clear she was still half-asleep. "Up so early?" she yawned, running her slender fingers down the marks of his back. Then, moaning tiredly, she pursed her pretty lips, before rolling onto her back in the bed, brushing her fingertips across his spine as she rubbed her eyes with her second hand. "You haven't been sleeping well since your last fight," she told him, still groggy, as if struggling to stay awake long enough to make her observation. "Does your leg still hurt that much?"
"Not my leg," Geralt answered, honestly, taking her hand from his back and pulling it up to his lips to kiss it. "Just restless. Don't like being cooped up so long."
Yennefer chuckled softly at his answer, before making a face, pretending to pout. "Poor baby," she cooed, her voice still heavy with sleep. "Doctor's put him on bedrest. However will he survive?"
"With difficulty," Geralt answered, chuckling, turning to crawl back into bed again. Sliding his leg over Yennefer's form, he leaned down to kiss her pillowy lips, and she smiled into the kiss, reaching up to brush his hair back from his rugged face. Geralt hummed as he kissed his way down her cheekbone and across her throat, before moving to slide his hand down into her panties, causing Yennefer to moan as she rocked against his talented touch. "Still plenty I can do on bedrest," he teased, breathing warm air across the shell of her ear.
He had been mandated to stay off his injured leg for at least a week before heading out again to do more adventuring – which worked out just fine for Yennefer, as most of that free time was now spent dedicated entirely to her. Adventuring was not high on his list of things to do at the moment, regardless; the payout from the cemetaur contract had been more than enough to suffice their current expenses, with some to set aside to pay towards Shani's clinic, and Geralt felt he deserved a bit of a break either way after the ordeal he had recently gone through.
"How about some sympathy for an injured witcher?" Geralt asked, burying his face in her raven locks and taking a deep breath in as she wrapped her arms around his sturdy neck. He loved the smell of her hair in the morning – anytime, really, as it never changed – but there was something particularly sweet about waking up to the smell of lilac and gooseberries, of having that scent be the first thing he registered when he opened his eyes; of breathing it in and knowing she was there, and would always be there whenever he awoke, forever more. "It's been a while," he pointed out, sliding his fingers inside her again, causing her to give a sharp little gasp as her lashes fluttered against her cheeks. "Not to guilt you, but… I did risk my life."
"You're so tacky," Yennefer laughed, leaning in to kiss his lips again. Then, pressing both hands against his chest, she pushed him off, a bit harder than he expected, before rolling him over to his side of the bed, wiping a glittering trail from her stomach as she coaxed herself onto her hands and knees. Geralt watched as she began to crawl towards him on the bed, before leaning his head back against his pillows, feeling the sharp bite of cold air against his skin as she peeled his underwear down to his knees.
The warmth of her mouth around his member made him hiss and salivate as he felt her on him, and he clenched his fists into the bedsheets in anticipation, feeling as she slowly, agonizingly made her way down the length of his shaft. Her tongue was soft as rose petals against his girth, moulding expertly to the shape of his cock, and he breathed in sharply as her lips brushed the base, stirring the coarse white hair with her breath. He could feel his member sliding down her throat, warm and wet, but the only sounds she made were a few soft moans, just enough to let him know she was still there, still enjoying herself, still pleasuring herself with her actions just as much as she was pleasuring him.
Looking down to his wife, Geralt felt his breath catch in his chest at the sight of her violet eyes staring up at him, locking intently with his gaze; there was an electricity to her stare, a tantalizing threat, watching him just as intensely as he watched her, and he bit his lip, huffing tormented breaths as he watched her slowly, meticulously begin to make her way up his pulsating shaft again. He clenched his jaw as he felt the soft scrape of her teeth against his throbbing veins, teasing him, letting him know she was still in charge, that she could bring pain as easily as pleasure. Her tongue dripped warm with saliva as she traced it around his aching tip, and he groaned as he felt the liquid trickle down his cock, before her lips encompassed his tip again, giving him just enough to excite him without giving very much at all.
Just then, Geralt felt a surge of heat from his gut, and a soft huff from Yennefer as the first dribble of precum began to leak out of him, seeping over her lips and down her chin— but she still made no effort to stop, only wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist before leaning down to start again. Brushing the tip of her talented tongue against his skin, she moved her mouth around him again, before going down slowly, agonizingly slow, trailing her free hand along his chiselled, tensing stomach as she went. Geralt shuddered as he felt her thumb brush across his navel, sending a shiver up his spine at the sensation, and he hissed at her touch, whimpering, grunting, throwing his head back into the pillows again, trying in vain to keep everything inside despite his body begging him to let it all go.
This was such a rare occasion that he hated to let it end so soon, but Yennefer was an expert, and she knew what she was doing. Geralt huffed as he felt her tongue against him again, wet and warm, her painted nails scraping against his skin, and he took in a deep breath as he felt a vein in his neck begin to pulsate with agony and pleasure. Her lips brushed the base of his shaft again, and she let out a soft moan, sliding her hands across his thighs, trailing her slender fingers over the bones of his hips as he bucked a bit in her mouth, sensitive to her touch. Then, before he could stop himself, he felt a searing sensation from the pit of his gut, and a moment later, he felt it all go, shuddering in ecstasy as all the tension was drained from his form, before settling back against the sweaty sheets with a deep howl and groan of pleasure.
Yennefer breathed in sharply from under him as he released, her hands tensing for a split second against his abdomen, but her reaction was short-lived, and a moment later, he felt her warm mouth begin to slide slowly off his cock again. Geralt panted as he stared up at the ceiling of their bedroom, his member still wet, lilting at half-mast as the cool air hit it, his golden eyes half-closed as he felt his wife climb back up to lay beside him in the sheets. Yennefer grinned like a cat at the sight of him, sliding her hand victoriously over his sticky chest, and he turned to face her, panting, wet-lipped, before reaching over to brush a stray curl of raven hair from her cheek. Leaning in, Geralt kissed his wife's lips, feeling the sorceress' smirk widen as he kissed her, and she traced her hand playfully across his collar-bone as he turned on his side to face her.
"Don't kiss me," Yennefer scolded, quietly, not bothering to turn her head until after he had already finished. "I taste disgusting."
"Taste fine to me," Geralt answered, grinning, pulling her in to kiss her again. Nuzzling his forehead against hers, he breathed in a deep lungful of her floral scent, before kissing her again on her pretty cheek, making her flinch and chuckle as she pushed him away, tickled by the scruff of his beard. Letting out an amused grunt, Geralt relented, turning away from Yennefer again, before finally starting to get out of bed, pushing his underwear the rest of the way down his legs and kicking them off across the floor. Now fully nude, he began to make his way towards the wash-basin sitting in the corner of the room, picking up a glass vial beside the basin, uncorking it, and tilting a drop from it into the water, watching as the drop spread through the small wood basin, purifying the water for a new day's use.
"I had an idea," Geralt said, thoughtfully, picking up a towel hanging from the side of the basin and starting to wash his front with it.
Yennefer looked up at the start of the new conversation, pausing a moment in brushing her hair. "I'm afraid to hear it," she answered, teasingly, glancing over at his reflection in her vanity mirror. "You always have terrible ideas when you don't get enough sleep."
Geralt snorted at the comment. "Last one wasn't so bad," he pointed out, turning to look back at his wife's reflection. "Got to meet you."
Yennefer hummed at the observation, tilting her head, before slowly starting to return to her pensive preening. "That's true, I suppose," she answered, dreamily. "For better or for worse. So what was this idea you had?"
Picking up the towel from again, Geralt quickly dried himself off with it, before tossing it back in its place on the edge of the basin and instead moving to the trunk at the foot of the bed. "Yen," he said, speaking slowly, thinking it over. "Do you remember that spell you did… years back…"
"You're going to have to be more specific," Yennefer returned.
"Let me finish," Geralt answered, shortly, pulling a fresh pair of underwear from the trunk. "The spell you did, where you summoned a bird?"
Yennefer paused in her brushing, staring intently at her husband's reflection. "My crow?" she asked, curiously. "I don't think that was years ago. Maybe months. It hasn't been that long."
Geralt shook his head. "No," he answered. "Not the crow. The other one. The kestrel."
Yennefer blinked at the distinction, seeming surprised, but quickly regained her regal composure, starting to brush her hair again as she stared at her reflection in the vanity mirror. There was much worth staring at, Geralt noted; she was still in her undergarments, but that was hardly worth lamenting, as they only served to accentuate the shapely form he knew so intimately underneath. She had moles on her back, left there intentionally; small beauty-marks across her otherwise perfect skin, little subtle details she had taken into account, ones that drove him wild every time he saw them. He wanted to kiss her slender shoulders as she sat there preening, touch the rosy blush of her elbows and knees, but he only pulled a shirt and a pair of trousers from the clothing-chest, closing it with a bit too loud a click and sitting on the bed to dress for the day.
"I'm amazed you remember that spell at all," Yennefer told him, doing her best to sound nonchalant on the matter. "You've forgotten so much from that time in our lives. I'm surprised that's the detail that stuck with you."
"Always remember that time," Geralt answered, pulling his shirt on over his head. "First time I thought about proposing to you."
At this, Yennefer huffed, setting down her brush. "Only so another man couldn't do it," she countered, flipping her dark hair over her shoulders. "Don't flatter your sense of chivalry so." Standing from the vanity then, she began to make her way over to her own fresh clothes, laid out neatly the night before, in stark contrast to her husband's. "It wouldn't have mattered," she added after a moment, starting to pull her pants on first. "I would've said no then, anyway."
Geralt grunted at the comment, shrugging a bit. "Tried to say no this time, too," he pointed out. "Miracle I convinced you otherwise."
"Not a miracle," Yennefer returned, shaking her head as she began to pull on her blouse. "You're just very persuasive when you're several inches deep in me."
"Still," Geralt answered. "I'd been thinking about it for a while. Proposing. Just never got the nerve until recently. Never had the opportunity."
"Probably for the best," Yennefer returned, letting out a soft sigh. "Regardless, what's your interest in the kestrel spell?"
"Can you do it?" Geralt asked, looking up from pulling on his trousers.
Yennefer thinned her lips at the question, starting to pull on her slender boots. "The question isn't if I can, Geralt, but if I will," she told him, frankly. "And I won't if you don't tell me why you want me to do it."
"Wanted to write a letter to Ciri," Geralt explained, starting to pull on his boots as well. "Figured a bird could get it there faster than a man on horseback."
"Well, certainly a bird could do it faster," Yennefer answered. "What kind of letter were you intending to send?"
Geralt grunted again, finished pulling on his boots, before turning to look back at Yennefer across the bed. "Been putting off writing to her about the plate," he told her, honestly. "But… think I should tell her. Might be important."
Yennefer frowned at the answer, discouraged by the news. "You know I don't like the idea of you telling her about that plate—"
"I know," Geralt answered. "Which was why I put it off. But I really think she should know. Just in case."
Yennefer took in a deep, slow breath at this, staring at a spot on the floor and holding it, the action somehow managing to stretch a few seconds of thought into what felt like an eternity. Geralt thinned his lips as he waited for an answer, hardly daring to breathe, himself, until finally Yennefer exhaled again, letting out her breath in a soft, weary sigh. "Fine," she said, hardly above a murmur, before holding up a hand, and gesturing with a wave of her slender fingers. As Geralt watched, a glowing mass began to take form on her opposite wrist, shifting and pulsing from a shapeless entity of light into something darker, more organic and streamlined, until, after a few more seconds of magic, the light at last began to fade, revealing in its place the familiar shape of the jet-black kestrel he remembered from years earlier.
Bringing the bird in closer to her chest, Yennefer petted its sleek head, watching as it stared around the room with bright yellow eyes, acquainting itself with its new surroundings. Then, looking up at Geralt again, Yennefer frowned, her hand still resting on the kestrel's inky back. "I want you to know I don't like this," she told him. "Not one bit."
"Noted," Geralt answered, before inclining his head towards the bird now sitting tranquilly on her wrist. "How long will it take to get there with the letter?"
Yennefer paused to think about it. "Two days as the crow flies, give or take," she finally said, giving a small smirk at her own clever turn of phrase. "It's a magical creature, so it won't need to rest the way a real bird might."
Geralt hummed at the answer, watching the enchanted bird as it preened its glossy feathers. "Will it be able to carry the plate?" he asked. "Looks pretty small. Didn't remember it being so petite."
"It's a kestrel, Geralt," Yennefer returned, pursing her lips as she looked down at the bird again. "What size did you expect it to be? It's neither abnormally small nor large for its species." Reaching out with her finger again, she petted the bird once more across its sleek head, this time smiling a bit as it leaned in to accept the gesture of affection. "I can enchant the letter and the plate to be weightless while the bird is in flight," she said after a moment, watching as the kestrel looked up at her, its yellow eye flashing as it cocked its head. "We can tie them both to its leg to ensure it doesn't lose them. That way it won't matter what size it is."
"Hm," Geralt answered, still not entirely convinced. "Will Ciri be able to use it to send a letter back?"
Yennefer nodded, undeterred. "The kestrel will keep its form until I dictate otherwise," she said, letting her hand fall back to her side. The kestrel protested at the withdrawal of her touch, its angled head jerking as it stared accusatorily down at her hand, before it settled back down again, starting to preen its wings once more. "It's a good spell."
"How long can they last?" Geralt asked, frowning down at the lively bird.
Yennefer paused, staring down at the bird as well, before looking up at Geralt again and tilting her head. "I'm not sure," she answered, honestly. "How long did yours last?"
Geralt shrugged. "No idea," he admitted, pushing himself to his feet at last. "Released it after I got your letter. Didn't see a reason to keep track of it."
Yennefer hummed, seeming dissatisfied, before looking down at the bird again instead, watching as it continued to preen, oblivious to their conversation. "Then I've no idea," she answered, seeming only half-interested in the resolution. "If I don't recall them, I suppose they can last forever. They're technically alive until they're not, though I don't believe I've ever tested the limits of that fact."
"Crow didn't last that long," Geralt pointed out.
"No," Yennefer agreed, shaking her head with another, lighter sigh. "The crow is a specialized weapon. I've told you that. It uses much more magical focus and energy." Reaching a hand to the star at her throat, she fingered it thoughtfully, staring down at the bird still perched on her wrist. "The crow is an extension of my consciousness," she added, seeming more fixated on the kestrel than the topic at hand. "The kestrel is just a magical bird who follows my commands."
Geralt nodded, not entirely following, but too eager to get to work on his letter to Ciri to allow his inability to understand his wife's magic get in the way of his starting. He was lucky his bedrest had put her in such a good mood, he realized; otherwise she would likely have never agreed to help him out with his plan. As it was, he was surprised she had agreed to help him at all, but he was never one to double-guess a positive outcome. Moving around the bed, he leaned down to Yennefer, pushing the kestrel gently out of the way as he kissed his wife's cheek, and then her lips, earning a weary smile in response. He could feel the bird's disconcertingly solid, organic-feeling feathers between his fingers as he touched it, and he had to resist an unconscious shiver at the unnerving sensation; Yennefer's spells had always been impressive, of course, but it never ceased to surprise him just how much she could do with her use of magic.
Turning away from the two of them, he moved again across the master bedroom, this time pulling out his solid desk-chair as he reached it and dropping himself down into it with a short grunt. Yennefer had insisted her writing-station be set up in the library, giving her plenty of room and ambience, but Geralt preferred the intimacy and familiarity of the master bedroom for his place of work. Pulling a piece of parchment from the desk, Geralt dipped his quill in the inkwell, before starting to pen out a letter to his daughter in the most legible print he could manage:
Dear Ciri,
I got your letter. I'm sorry I haven't come to Vizima yet, but matters at home have kept me busy. There's not much to explain but I hope to come soon. I hope Emhyr is not causing you too much of a headache in the meantime. I'm sure you're doing a much better job ruling Nilfgaard than he ever did. You're free to tell him I said so.
In your letter you mentioned interesting mysteries. I have one here I think might intrigue you. I found this metal plate in town but I can't figure out what it is or what it says. Yennefer hasn't been able to figure it out either, and we have no information in our library to give us a place to start. I hoped maybe you could find something about it that we couldn't, or alternatively recommend someone we could contact to ask.
Yennefer misses you terribly and so do I. Shani is also living with us now, though we don't know for how long. There is a lot going on now, but not too much to keep me from coming to see you once I wrap up a few last things. Write back to let me know you are still well and that you will be in Vizima when I arrive. I am too old to go chasing after you again.
Yours, Geralt
Satisfied with the content of his note, Geralt picked up the parchment, blowing on the ink to dry it, before handing it over to Yennefer to take and inspect. The kestrel adjusted its little clawed feet on the sorceress' wrist as she took the offered paper, and she pursed her lips as she read over the note, hardly bothering to pay attention as Geralt next moved to retrieve the metal plate from his bedside table where he had been keeping it. It was still nearly black with rust and filth, despite his best efforts to clean it, and he frowned as he ran his calloused thumb over the indent caused by his blade across its curious face. Then, sitting down on the bed again, he handed the disc over to Yennefer as well, watching in interest as she touched first the parchment, and then the plate with a glowing blue finger, causing each to give off a faint light for a split second before dimming again to their original iterations.
"That should make them weightless," Yennefer announced, starting to fold the letter into a neat rectangle. "I'll add an additional spell to ensure they can't be removed by anyone but Ciri. That should hopefully keep them from falling off before they reach their destination." Wrapping the letter securely around the kestrel's leg, she began to tie it and the plate on securely with a length of knotted string, causing the bird to keen and ruffle its wings as it watched her with wary yellow eyes. Finished with her tying, the sorceress touched the parcel again with a glowing finger, before bringing the kestrel up to her lips and whispering something too quiet for Geralt to hear, gently kissing the bird's sleek head and smiling as it cooed in response.
"That should keep it safe from harm," Yennefer said, nodding her approval to her own safeguarding methods. Then, looking up at Geralt again, she frowned, before letting out another soft sigh. "I hope you know what you're doing, Geralt," she told him, standing from the bed at last. The kestrel bobbed on her wrist as she moved, but made no indication of distress, its little head jerking as it watched its surroundings begin to move as Yennefer started to cross for the door. "If I know Ciri, this will only make her worry," she added, pausing as she reached for the door handle. "You can't fool her. You know that. She's too much like you to fall for your methods."
"Not trying to fool her," Geralt answered, shaking his head and standing from the bed again as well. "Just the opposite. Think she should know what's going on. Feel like we're doing her a disservice by trying to protect her from what's going on in the world."
Yennefer took a deep breath at the answer, staring at her husband for a long while, her fingers tensing around the door handle as she considered him, seeming deep in thought. Then, after what felt like an eternity, she let out her breath in a long exhale, before nodding, her expression softening a bit for the first time since he had brought up writing the letter to Ciri. "You're going to make a good father, you know," she told him, surprising him with the sentiment. Then, before he could think to answer, she was out the door, closing it behind her with a soft click.
"C'mon, Barnabas," Geralt urged, gesturing for the majordomo to come in closer. "Hit me."
Barnabas-Basil frowned at the invitation, his thin mouth twisting in a crumpled line of distress. "I'm not so sure about this, master witcher," he admitted, lifting the tip of his wooden blade a few inches from the ground, only to let it drop quickly back to the cobblestones again. "I'm afraid someone might get injured."
"I'll be fine, Barnabas," Geralt insisted, indicating again for the man to lift his sword. "Don't worry about me."
Barnabas-Basil sighed at the response. "It's not you I'm concerned about, sir," he admitted, before finally lifting the wooden sword, holding it out nervously towards the witcher.
Geralt grunted at the man's honesty, holding up an arm in preparation for his first strike. It had been almost two weeks since his injury in the sewers, and though his leg still ached a bit under pressure, Shani had finally approved him for what she had tentatively called 'light adventuring'. He found the term incredibly amusing, as he had no idea what 'light adventuring' entailed, but he figured the good doctor could not fault him some amicable sparring while he waited for his diagnosis to improve. "Need to practice my defence," he explained, skirting back a few inches as Barnabas-Basil swung his blade, clearly not trying very hard to make contact. "Dodging, blocking. Figure if I can reduce the number of times I get hit, I'll reduce the damage I take."
Ducking another swing, Geralt slapped the blade out of the way with the back of his forearm, causing the majordomo to stumble a bit as his centre of gravity was thrown off-balance. "Can't count on armour anymore," Geralt added, shaking his head as he straightened again. "Not with the kinds of creatures that have been cropping up lately. The best offense is a good defence."
"Very prudent, sir," Barnabas-Basil agreed, before taking another swing at the witcher, cleaving a whistling wooden arc through the air, now clearly trying to put some force behind his swordsmanship. Geralt ducked and rolled out of the way, before quickly jumping up again, bouncing on his heels, but his attention was pulled swiftly from the duel as he looked up, noticing a small, dark shape approaching the vineyard through the sky. Squinting into the peaceful blue, he lifted a hand, shading his eyes, only to flinch as he felt the dull bite of the wooden sword against his distracted arm. "My apologies, master witcher," Barnabas-Basil sputtered, taking a step back and dropping the point of the blade to the ground again. "I didn't realize you were wanting to stop."
"My fault," Geralt admitted, rubbing his arm. "Take five, Barnabas. Need to check on something." Turning away from the majordomo, he watched as the dark shape drew closer to the house, until it finally began to take solid form, flapping to alight atop a nearby grindstone. The black kestrel keened as it spotted the witcher, ruffling its feathers and tilting its head, but it made no move to avoid his touch as he approached, only lifting its leg to reveal the hefty package it carried. Geralt frowned at the size of the letter, quickly untying the string holding it onto the kestrel's leg, before allowing the bird to take flight again, retreating to a nearby tree as he unfolded the parchment to read.
The paper the letter was written on was just like the first he had received from Ciri – framed in gold leaf and emblazoned with imagery of Nilfgaard's golden sun – but more unusual than the letter itself was the shiny disc that tumbled out when he opened it, causing him to flounder as he tried to catch it, surprised by its sudden weight.
Dearest Geralt,
I admit I was surprised to hear back from you so quickly. The Geralt I know would usually wait for Dandelion to come around and write his letters for him. I suppose Yennefer has had more of an influence on you than I might have guessed – that, or she simply forced you to do it, though I prefer to think you chose to write of your own accord. Please do not bother to correct me if I am wrong.
The plate you sent is indeed interesting, though sadly I have no idea what it is, nor what it signifies. We did manage to polish it up a bit to read the writing as best we could, but all we found was a string of numbers for which we have no context to decipher their meaning. Perhaps if Yennefer is still in contact with the Lodge, you could ask one of them for assistance in identifying what the numbers mean? I've been informed by my contacts in Toussaint that Fringilla Vigo has returned to her post in Anna Henrietta's court; I would suggest starting by asking for her opinion on the matter.
I have returned the plate to you so you may see the numbering for yourself, but, barring assistance from the Lodge, I believe we would do best to puzzle this matter out face to face, so as to allow us to more effectively piece together whether this object has any significance to the matter I originally wrote you about.
Please give my love to Yennefer, and tell Shani I hope she is doing well. I admit curiosity in her reason for moving in with you, but I believe that is a topic we can discuss more effectively when you come to visit. I am willing to wait for you to finish your tasks before I expect your arrival, but I cannot promise I will wait around forever. I very much wish to discuss this new development with you, and if you will not come to me, then I will have no choice but to come to you.
All my love,
Empress Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon
Geralt read through Ciri's letter a second time, and then a third, his brow furrowing in discouragement as his eyes trailed over the text. He knew that Yennefer would not be happy with this news, though he had not expected her to be; she had been averse to him telling Ciri about the plate in the first place, and to find out that it had only hastened the girl's determination to see him would mean he would have to suffer through his wife's duly-earned 'I told you so's' on the matter. Folding up the letter again, he shoved it into a pocket of his trousers, before letting out a sigh, wondering if he could figure out where Yennefer would be that day. As much as he hated to admit she was right, she had as much of a right to know Ciri's intentions as he did, and so, stuffing the polished plate in his other pocket, he started for the house, making a mental list of the places the sorceress was most likely to be at this time of day.
The library was empty when he stopped in to check, as was the clinic, which seemed unusual. Ever since it had started to take on a more recognizable façade as a medical facility, Shani had taken to spending her free time reading in there – comforted by the familiar atmosphere, he assumed, and warmed by the light from the day-room windows as it sprawled across the floor like a peacock's plume. Now, the clinic sat empty and bright, with only a few books left open on the chaises to indicate anyone had been in there at all, only to have stopped halfway through their studies to attend to something else.
Taking his leave from the clinic, Geralt tried next in the trophy-room, a small room off to one side of the hall leading between the front-room and the library – but again he found no other soul about, and no indication that anyone had been in there for at least the last few days. He hummed at the mystery, trying to think of anywhere else he could look for Yennefer at this hour; it was possible she had taken to walking the vineyard grounds to clear her head, though it had been a while since she had taken some time to slow down and smell the flora growing on their own property. Perhaps that was exactly why she needed it, he thought – things had been more tense than usual between them, and though he knew there was reason for it, he could still not help feeling that there was a certain thinness to the air of late, a certain unnatural electricity that put his and his wife's nerves on edge in ways neither of them had the words to express.
Yennefer was seated on a bench in the garden when Geralt did finally manage to find her, and he paused, observing her, waiting for some objection, before dropping himself down next to her with a low, tired sigh, stretching out his long legs in front of him across the walk and draping an arm across the back of the bench behind her. Drawing in a deep breath, he stared out over the garden, crossing his ankles as he took in the view, but Yennefer did not react to his presence, only blinking slowly as she watched the sun play over the leaves and flowers of their vineyard home. "Got a letter back from Ciri," Geralt spoke after a while, breaking the silence in the only way he knew how. Yennefer did not respond, only continued to stare out over the garden, and Geralt shifted a bit closer on the bench, refusing to be discouraged. "Sent back the plate, too," he added, tilting his head. "Must've figured out your weightlessness spell. Smart kid."
"She is," Yennefer agreed, nodding in return. "Takes after me in that regard."
Geralt gave a soft huff at the joke, before looking down, conceding defeat, reaching into his pocket for the note and handing it to Yennefer to read. He watched as she opened it, before returning his gaze to his lap again, folding his hands as he stared down at the garden walk between their feet. "Sends her love to you and Shani," he said, glancing up at Yennefer once before looking down again. "Says we should talk to Fringilla about the plate."
Yennefer frowned faintly at the news, her shift in expression so subtle it took Geralt a moment to realize anything had changed. Then, taking in a deep breath, she straightened in her seat, pressing her hands rigidly against her lap. "Ciri means well," she said, still not making eye contact as she spoke. "But we'll not be speaking to Fringilla about this, or anything else."
"Maybe she can help," Geralt suggested, frowning in return. "We could at least give her a chance."
Yennefer shook her head at the suggestion, before turning to look over at her husband at last, her expression less chilly than he had expected, though much wearier, which surprised and concerned him. "What goes on in our house is none of her business, Geralt," she told him, shortly. "And until Anna Henrietta approves our clinic, I'm not interested in interacting with the court of Beauclair, or anyone in it. Fringilla included."
"Hm," Geralt answered. "Not sure that'll make them approve it faster."
Yennefer huffed softly, turning her irritated gaze out to the garden once more. "I can't imagine asking for more favours from the court would garner us much good will in that regard, either," she returned, frankly. "Especially when they still haven't decided how to rule on our first request."
"Fair point," Geralt answered, tilting his head, before falling silent, taking a moment to observe his wife in the quietude of midday. He could sense her anxiety as she sat beside him, the tenseness of her form, breathing in the aura of worry and frustration that emanated from her like perfume from a flower, noting the subtle tic of her painted fingers that belayed her tired nerves. His golden eyes sharpened in the garden sun, and he narrowed them, blinking a few times in thought, wondering whether it would help or hurt if he tried to kiss her now, while she was wound so tightly. She had never expressed an objection to his affection, and even now she seemed unbothered by his presence, but he decided it was not the right time to try sympathising with the promise of sex.
"Talked to Shani," he said after a moment, causing Yennefer to pause, having not expected the change of subject.
"And?" the sorceress asked, turning her head halfway towards him again.
Geralt hummed at her sudden interest, crossing his ankle over his opposite knee and returning his arm to the bench behind her. "Told me what kind of crib she wanted."
Yennefer huffed again at this, a small smile starting to work its way across her face at the news. "You see?" she said, leaning back at last to rest her head against his arm. "I knew she'd talk to you. Now we can go get the crib from Beauclair. One less thing to worry about before the baby's arrival."
Geralt frowned at the suggestion of Beauclair, remembering his conversation with Shani from a few days earlier. Under most circumstances, Beauclair would be ideal, being close enough to reach within a few hours' horseback ride, but this particular trip was less about convenience and speed than it was meant to give Shani the opportunity to watch Moreau's megascope crystals. It had taken Geralt less than a few hours total to watch them all when he had first come across them, but he had no idea how well Shani knew how to operate megascope technology, and he grunted, leaning in to kiss his wife's head as he thought of a way to creatively object. "Getting pretty sick of Beauclair," he said, tucking a stray curl behind Yennefer's ear. "Hoped we might go someplace else for a change. Someplace that hasn't tried to kill me recently."
Yennefer snorted softly at the comment, tracing a slender finger along the scruff on his neck. "Not too many places like that left," she answered. "Besides, I don't want to travel too far. I'm not comfortable leaving Shani on her own too long with so many things still to do."
"Hm," Geralt answered, kissing his wife's forehead again. "Shani's an adult, Yen. Probably be relieved to have some time to herself." Then, breathing in deeply, he turned to look out towards the garden again, leaning his head against his wife's soft hair as he drew his arm more tightly around her slender shoulders. Yennefer smiled at the gesture, kissing his cheek, before nestling her head in the curve of his neck, resting her hand against his knee as she closed her eyes, her long lashes brushing gently against his skin. Times like these came too rarely, Geralt thought; moments when they could just sit in silence, enjoying one another's company as husband and wife, with nothing weighing too heavily on their minds. The world had grown too busy around them – too dark, too full of things vying for their time and wellbeing – things they had come out here to Corvo Bianco to escape from, but which seemed loathe to let either of them go so soon.
"Beauclair's fine," Geralt said after a moment, realizing it was not worth arguing about. Shani was intelligent, smarter than him for sure, and if even he could figure out the megascope, he saw no reason why she would not be able to do the same. "Probably more choices there anyway. Pick out the crib, pay someone to bring it back for us. Know someone there who could use a new job." He could feel Yennefer's expression shift against the side of his neck, confused, but she said nothing, only listening, allowing him to continue unquestioned. "We could get planks and paint while we're in town, too," Geralt added, twisting a lock of her dark hair around his finger as he thought. "Maybe paint some signs. Spruce up the day-room."
Yennefer frowned at the mention of paint, turning her head to look up at her husband. "You're certainly being very amenable about this shopping expedition," she told him, suspiciously.
Geralt shrugged. "Shani needs a crib," he answered.
Yennefer scoffed, her suspicions unquelled, giving Geralt a doubtful once-over, and he blinked in response, slow and lazy, hoping his patented lack of expression might help mask his intentions from her scrutinizing gaze. "So noble, the witcher," she finally said, sarcastically, still clearly in good humour despite her reservations. "And I'm sure it has nothing at all to do with the fact that you're still thinking about those lovers in the catacombs."
Geralt faltered at the thought, blinking a few times, working hard to keep his expression set as he turned it over in his mind. In truth, he had all but forgotten about the lovers he had cleared from the catacombs of Temple Cemetery, but Yennefer's comment was enough to remind him that he had more to work with than he had originally thought. "Hm," he answered after a bit. "Might have something to do with it."
Yennefer smirked, pleased with her detective work, before nestling her head into Geralt's shoulder once more, starting to trace her finger along the outline of his chest, just visible through the generous material of his shirt. "Fine," she said. "I tell you what. If we spend all day shopping – picking out a crib, paint, decorations, commissioning signage, all those things you hate – I'll give a bit more consideration to the idea of the catacombs. Does that sound reasonable to you?" Her hand perused curiously across the ridges of his wolf medallion, gliding over the bare V of his unlaced neckline, before she slid it next inside the material of his shirt, tracing her fingertips over his scars. "After dark, of course," she added, turning her head to breathe hot air against his neck, causing his skin to prickle with the promise of things to come. "When no one is around to disturb us except the ghosts."
"Cleared out the ghosts," Geralt answered, swallowing, feeling as her hand teased across his nipple. "Should probably still wear my armour to town, though. Just in case something happens." At this, Yennefer suddenly stopped, her hand going still inside his shirt, before she pulled it out again, sitting up from his shoulder to look across at him, confused. Geralt frowned at her reaction, half-wishing he had said nothing, but knowing it was better to get it out now than right before it was time to leave. "Lots of weird monsters around anymore," he explained. "Better safe than sorry."
"And were you expecting to encounter these monsters between the dye market and the carpentry shop?" Yennefer asked.
Geralt shrugged, ignoring her sarcasm. "Never know," he answered. "Didn't expect to encounter a giant toad in Oxenfurt, either."
Yennefer huffed, smoothing the front of her blouse. "Is that going to become your new zeugl story?" she asked.
Geralt shook his head. "No," he said. "Probably the hybrid thing will, though. Little more interesting than a regular zeugl."
At the mention of the hybrid, Yennefer looked up, all trace of good humour having now drained from her expression, and Geralt felt his heart sink, realizing he would probably be going to bed that evening with a cold goodnight and a gap between them once again. "I wouldn't go spreading that story around if I were you," she told him, stonily. "People already think you're strange enough as it is. You don't need to go dispersing tales nobody will believe." Then, pausing, she looked down again, before adding, "You aren't Dandelion, after all."
Geralt snorted at the comment. "No," he agreed. "Thank fuck for that. One of him is more than enough." A short silence fell over the conversation at the mention of Dandelion, and Geralt frowned at the thought, thinning his lips as he took another deep breath in. "Do miss him," he said at last, starting to again play absentmindedly with Yennefer's hair. "Haven't heard from him in a while. Hope he's doing okay."
"I believe he was in Novigrad, last I heard," Yennefer answered, allowing the tension to ease a bit from her form. "We could always invite him to visit, if you want. Though you would have to be home to do that."
Geralt looked up at the pointed comment, his golden eyes meeting momentarily with his wife's, before looking back down again, staring intently at a stone in the path instead. He wanted to see Dandelion terribly, as it had been too long since he had last laid eyes on his friend, but he had put off going to see Ciri for so long now that he worried she might think he was avoiding her. Her letter had done little to quell this concern, as she had mentioned becoming impatient for his arrival, and he let out a sharp huff, pulling out the polished disc she had returned to him from his pocket and staring down at it, pensively. The surface was dented, dappled with age, but the work she had done in clearing the rust and organic matter was impressive, making the writing across its face almost legible. Geralt frowned at the string of numbers, running his thumb along the neatly-carved line, so clean and uniform it seemed almost impossible to think it had been scratched into the plate with a human hand.
If magic had been used in the making of the plate, that would make slightly more sense as to where he had found it, he thought – but the looming mystery of what it was actually doing there, and how it had gotten there, still gnawed at the back of his mind like a parasite. "You don't think it's weird, Yen?" he asked at last, looking up at the sorceress again, ignoring her irritated expression. "First a mutated super-species, then a hybrid… call me crazy, but I'm starting to think someone planted these things here for me to fight."
"Who has the capability to do that?" Yennefer asked, frowning at the unlikely conclusion. "They would have to have advanced sciences and knowledge of containment for the beasts. There's no facility in the Continent with those skills."
"Hm," Geralt answered, thoughtful. "You sure?"
Yennefer paused, blinking a few times at the question, having not expected to have her knowledge tested. "None that I know of," she answered at last. "Why, Geralt? Are you aware of someone with the ability to do these things?"
Geralt hesitated, thinking about it, running his thumb along the deep cut in the plate. "I don't… know," he finally answered, shaking his head. "But… something doesn't feel right about this. I know I've seen this kind of thing before, but… just can't figure out where." Picking up the plate again, he turned it over, running his fingers along the smooth, blank back, before flipping it around again to squint at the numbers, hoping to find something he had missed before hidden between the lines. Then, realizing he was getting nowhere, he let out a long sigh, pocketing the disc again, before leaning back against the bench, moving his arm around Yennefer's shoulders as he stared out across the vineyard. "Don't think I can put off going to see Ciri anymore," he told her, solemnly. "Can't help feeling her contract might have something to do with all of this."
Yennefer frowned, taken aback. "She said herself that she didn't know of any connection," she argued.
"Right," Geralt agreed. "Said she didn't know. Didn't say there wasn't one. Said she wanted to find out." Pausing a moment, he took a deep breath, watching as a butterfly flitted noiselessly along the flowerbed, its gossamer wings reflecting rays of sunlight in glimmering orange and gold. "Without consulting Fringilla, we don't have many other options left," he added. "You know some of my memories are still missing. Ones from before we were brought back. Lots of things happened then that didn't involve Ciri. Just a hunch, but… feel like I was meant to find this thing."
"Like someone is setting you up, you mean," Yennefer observed, dryly.
Geralt hummed, thinking about it. "I guess," he said after a moment. "But… more like a sign than a setup."
Yennefer faltered, her confused frown deepening. "I thought you didn't believe in that sort of thing," she told him. "Signs, destiny… you always say it's nonsense."
"True," Geralt answered, nodding in agreement. "But I don't believe in coincidence either. Not everything happens for a reason, Yen, but I think my thing and Ciri's are connected. I think my finding this will help me figure out what's going on on her end."
Yennefer sighed, leaning back against his shoulder again, too worn out to be upset at him anymore. "I don't suppose there's anything I can say to convince you not to leave," she told him.
Geralt shook his head, lacing his fingers distractedly through her hair. "Not really," he answered, solemnly. Then, looking down at her again, he paused, watching her for a moment longer, before leaning down to kiss her temple, brushing her dark hair gently behind her ear. "But I can always wait until after we go to town," he added, leaning in to speak directly in her ear, kissing her cheek and watching her struggle not to wrinkle her nose at the tickle of his beard. "We can get Shani's crib, bring it home, assemble it. Then I'll head out. Ciri can wait another day." Leaning in to his wife again, he kissed her ear, and then her cheek, before reaching over to gently turn her chin up so he could kiss her lips. Yennefer smiled into the kiss, letting out a soft sigh against his lips, before she opened her eyes, her dark lashes fluttering sadly as she looked up at him with an adoring violet gaze. Geralt smiled down at her, knowing how lucky he was to have this view – to wake to this vision every day, to have this be the last thing he saw before he went to sleep.
"Besides," he added, his wry grin widening, knowing the moment was about to be ruined. "Destiny can't fault me a quick stop in the catacombs."