it...feels weird to be post-grand words. like i've spent so long thinking about it and building up to it and writing it that now it's like what do i do? even though i already know where this is going lol. honestly not a lot happens here but we gotta set the stage for part 3 somehow so here it is. i'm so out of my depth here that i have no idea what else to say i hope yall like it aldfkjalkfj

also i figured if hozier could fuckin release a new album after several years today then i can definitely post a chapter that i've been working on for a couple of months (also go listen to hozier's new album it's really good) - bel

A Wolf Among Lilacs
Part Three: Beauty/Menace
Chapter Twenty-Eight: In Every Cloud On The Horizon

They didn't leave the ruins of the inn for nearly another hour, and when they finally did, it was only because Yennefer had become so pale that Geralt worried she'd collapse at any moment, though she insisted over and over again that she was fine. He had been hoping, somewhere in the back of his mind, that what had just happened might make her at least slightly more tolerant of him asking if she was okay, but it had appeared to have the exact opposite effect; the third time he tried to check on her, she just scoffed as she pulled her jacket back on and tried to pull her hair back into a shape that didn't make it look like they'd just nearly lost a fight with a djinn.

"Regis is out there waiting for us," she said as her jacket settled back over her shoulders, effectively hiding the worst of the bloodstains. "And Dandelion too, I'm sure. We've kept them waiting long enough, don't you think?"

Geralt nodded, and was just beginning to look around for the most efficient way to exit the ruined inn when the words sunk in. "Wait. How do you know Regis is out there?"

She grinned, a little close-lipped smile, and pulled her phone out. "Because he told me."

Right. Of course. He hadn't even seen her check it. He turned away, mildly embarrassed, but before he'd even had a chance to truly start assessing the wreckage around them, he heard Yennefer mutter something from behind him, and a space cleared itself along one of the ruined walls, the debris around it falling so naturally that it looked as if the opening had been there all along.

"You didn't have to do that, you know," he said, frowning as she strode forward and ducked through the newly-made exit. If she was tired, she was doing a better job at hiding it than she had before—though she hadn't been actively using her power since the djinn fled, and though he wasn't sure he could call what they'd been doing 'actively resting,' it wasn't draining in a magical sense either. Or so he hoped.

"I know. But I'd rather not stand here for ten minutes watching you move rubble brick by brick."

Even her gentle teasing had a different tone to it, he thought as he followed her out into the light drizzle. It felt more familiar, a bit less stilted and forced. He wondered if anyone around them would even be able to tell the difference, though he doubted anyone else was quite as aware of her as he was.

Exactly as she'd said, Regis was waiting for them outside the door of the tavern Geralt had woken up in earlier. He looked relieved to see them, and he was surprised when Yennefer stepped forward and embraced him briefly—he so rarely saw anyone make physical contact with her, though if anyone would, it would be Regis; he'd always gotten the sense that she felt more comfortable around him than almost anyone else. When they stepped back, she surprised Geralt yet again by putting her hand lightly on his arm, though her fingertips gripped tightly.

"I don't suppose you have anything restorative in that coat of yours," she said by way of greeting. Geralt himself kept quiet as they followed Regis inside and to a booth in the back corner—thankfully, not the one he and Chireadan had been sitting in earlier. The floor had been scrubbed clean surprisingly quickly after he left, it seemed, because apart from the patrons giving him the side-eye as he crossed the room, it appeared as if nothing had happened.

"I don't." His tone was tinged with regret. When they reached the booth, Yennefer slid in first, and Geralt sat next to her, unsure if it had been the right thing to do. It was the easiest for him, at any rate; he certainly didn't want to sit next to Dandelion, who was squinting at them both from across the table as though he couldn't believe they were actually there. Regis threw them an apologetic glance as he sat down. "Was it truly that bad?"

"I've been through worse." Yennefer's answering smile was tight-lipped, and she wrapped her fingers around the glass of water that had been ready for her at her seat, though she didn't drink it. Geralt suspected it was more to steady her hand than anything else. "But yes, it was…quite draining." Not for the first time in her presence, Geralt was glad he was physically incapable of blushing. What was it about her that unraveled him so easily?

"Well, I would think so," Dandelion said, and Geralt sighed internally, preparing himself for what was undoubtedly going to be a very long lecture. He couldn't help but think that it was surprising he'd be the one to give it, and not Regis, who was only watching this unfold and clearly trying to hold back a grin. "You could've just healed me and been done with it."

"There are many things I could have done, but didn't." Her grip tightened around the glass, and Geralt watched the condensation on the outside drip down to her fingers. "There's also no point in dwelling on them now."

The words were spoken as casually as anything, but there was a tension underneath them that hinted at more than she was telling. If Dandelion noticed that particular detail, he didn't say. Instead he launched into his version of the events of the past few hours, barely even pausing to draw breath. It was something of a relief to Geralt; as long as he kept that up, no one else would be expected to say anything. He needed time to get his thoughts in order before he tried to explain anything.

And truly, what was there to explain? It wasn't as if he could just go around telling people what had occurred in the inn. It was nobody's business but theirs, and besides, he knew without asking that Yennefer wouldn't want word of this—whatever it was—to get around. She valued her privacy above most things, and besides that, she was already engaged to someone else. The thought of Istredd was an unwelcome intrusion, but one they would both have to face sooner or later. Despite his wariness on addressing the subject directly, he resolved to ask her about it the next time they had a moment alone. It would force them to talk about what they were becoming, at any rate. He didn't know if she would be willing to bring it up on her own.

As Dandelion continued his story, to which only Regis seemed to be paying any attention, Geralt felt a sudden pressure on his leg—the fingers of Yennefer's free left hand gripping his thigh. He saw the glint of the silver band there and, for a moment, he was filled with such a choking anger that he found it difficult to breathe around it, but when he looked up at her, there was nothing but concern, and perhaps a bit of amusement, in her gaze. She raised her eyebrow at him, a silent question, and he returned it with a nod. Yes, he was fine, for the time being. An arch of his own brow extended the same question to her, but she only smiled a little and turned away.

"But enough about what happened outside." When Geralt focused his attention back on the conversation, he looked up to find that both Regis and Dandelion were staring at him. The latter seemed to have only just finished his story; at least, if his track record of jumping between subjects without pause was any indication. "What was going on in there? When the inn collapsed, we were all so sure the two of you were dead."

"Not all of us," Regis said, and his gaze darted in Yennefer's direction. The corners of his lips turned up, as if he found something about the statement particularly amusing. When Geralt chanced a quick glance to the side, he found a similar expression on Yennefer's face. "But I would be interested to hear nonetheless."

Geralt let out a long breath, trying to stop himself from saying something impulsive or sarcastic in response to Dandelion's question. He'd been through enough already at the hands of the djinn (never mind that the whole thing was his fault in the first place, for thinking it was a good idea to drag Geralt out to the middle of nowhere). Besides, Yennefer was looking at him too, carefully constructed impassivity on her face. "There's not much to tell," he said.

"Like hell there isn't!" At this point, Geralt noticed, several other patrons had turned to look at them, staring with undisguised curiosity. "We all heard it roaring! We saw it fly off! We thought it had been freed because you'd been killed!"

"Clearly, we weren't." It seemed Geralt wasn't the only one who had noticed the staring; Yennefer's gaze was steely and her voice even more so, and all of a sudden everyone who had been looking at them found far more interesting things to occupy their time with. "We fought the djinn. Once Geralt realized he still had a wish left, he made it. The djinn was freed, and it left us alone. That's all there is to it."

Dandelion still didn't look convinced, but after a moment of staring at the two of them, trying to figure out what they weren't saying, he seemed to give up, declaring instead that he was thirsty and after everything that had happened to him today, he certainly deserved a drink. Yennefer raised an eyebrow, but didn't argue—Geralt suspected she was glad to have him gone, if only for a moment. Once she didn't have anyone to pretend in front of, the change in her posture was almost immediate; her shoulders dropped and she slumped forwards slightly, resting one arm on top of the table to keep herself upright.

"A word of advice, if I might offer one," she said to Regis, closing her eyes briefly before she reached for her yet-untouched glass of water. "Don't pick fights with djinns."

It got a laugh out of him, at least, but the levity was short-lived, and as she took cautious sips of the water—almost as if she were afraid her body would reject anything she put in it—Geralt remembered something she had told him months ago, back before they'd gone to Novigrad: something in her didn't react well to healing magic. The thought made him tense; he could only imagine how much of her own power she was draining simply to remain conscious. He wondered if there was somewhere they could take her close by where she could rest, though, knowing her, she'd insist she was fine the moment she realized what he was trying to do.

"Is there any particular reason you were willing to do such a thing?" Regis asked when she set the glass back down. "Especially now that you're warning me against it?"

A soft breath escaped her, almost a laugh of her own. Geralt had been thinking the same thing himself, and he was glad that someone else had voiced the question; things had changed between them enough in the past couple of hours without him suddenly becoming the object of her ire. Still, the uncertainty lingered. "There is," she said, as casually as if they were discussing the weather. "Though I don't see why you feel the need to ask, given you already know what it is."

She took another drink, and he nodded as if this cleared up some source of great confusion, though, as far as he could tell, Geralt was the only one confused. There seemed to be some predictable thread, some line of conversation that Regis and Yennefer were following that had been said before, and all he could do was sit there and wonder what it was. Gods, but he was already tired of the way they were both seemingly incapable of answering direct questions. He cared deeply for them both, but sometimes being around them in the same room for too long was enough to give him a headache.

"I see." Whatever it was that Regis saw, he wasn't happy about it. His own glass of water sat on the table in front of him, untouched. Yennefer drummed her fingers lightly across the polished wooden surface. "Does anyone else know?"

She reached up to brush her hair back, resolutely not looking at either of them. "No. No one else knows. Is this really the time or place to be having this conversation?"

"Maybe someone else should know," Geralt said, a hint of the frustration that he'd been trying to hide coloring his voice. They both looked over at him, surprised, almost as if they'd forgotten he was there. He wouldn't have been shocked if they had. Regis frowned, and Yennefer's lips twisted with something that looked almost like guilt.

"Maybe," she said, voice pitched low to make it clear her words were only for him, even if it was pointless. They both knew Regis would hear them anyway. "But it's a long story, and a painful one. And you shouldn't ask unless you're prepared for it."

He wanted to say something else, but she was already looking away, digging around in one of her jacket pockets and producing a small silver key. She handed it to him without making eye contact, and picked up the glass of water, taking another long drink. Geralt suspected that the tavern could have caught fire around them and Regis still wouldn't look as stunned as he did watching her actions.

"This unlocks the clinic door of my home in Vengerberg. Only the clinic door." At that she did look over at him, and he nodded, slipping the key into his own pocket. "I…would rather continue this conversation somewhere more private, and I should really be going. I've got quite the headache."

She pushed lightly at his arm until he stood to let her out of the booth, and he was reluctant to let her go—it felt like avoidance, even though he knew she was simply tired, like anyone in her situation would be. She'd have to portal herself to Vengerberg, too, if that was where she intended to go, draining even more of her energy. So he let her out and sat back down, and when she brushed her fingers along his arm again it was a gentler touch, albeit brief, and she smiled at him before she left.

The look on Regis's face was nothing short of smug when Geralt finally turned to look back at him. "I do hope you know what you're doing," he said, and it permeated his voice too. Well. If the fact that they were both struggling with their feelings was going to be obvious to anyone, it would be Regis.

"I don't think either of us do." There was no point in trying to lie; Regis had known him longer than many others, and he'd be able to see right through him. Luckily, he was spared from having to answer any more pointed questions by Dandelion's return. He stared Geralt down when he asked where Yennefer went, but Regis managed to intercept the question smoothly, only glancing at Geralt once—a look that said, quite clearly, don't act like anything is different.

Geralt looked over at Yennefer's abandoned water glass and repressed the urge to sigh. He was going to be there a while.

~oOo~

"I'm just saying one of them should have called me by now!"

"Relax," Bea said as Ciri paced the living room of her and Triss's shared apartment. A couple of hours before, Regis had contacted her to let her know what was going on in Rinde, or, at least, as much as he knew about what was going on. She'd demanded he message her if anything further happened, but she had yet to hear from him, and Geralt and Yennefer had been strangely silent as well. "You'll wear a hole right through to the floor below us, and what will you tell the landlord then?"

"I'll tell them I have horrible parents." That finally got Bea to look over at her, redirecting her gaze from where it had been aimed at the ceiling. She was laying on her back on the couch with her arms crossed over her stomach, and had been for some time, ever since she'd declared she was tired of Ciri's worrying, and that she was going to take a nap. That had been an hour ago—an hour of nothing.

"You don't mean that." Bea sounded frustrated, and Ciri stopped her pacing, suddenly realizing that she'd been subjected to an entire afternoon of this, when they were supposed to be focusing on spending time together. The next day, Bea would go back to work; it was so rare that she had this much time off that Ciri didn't know when they would be able to see each other next. And soon after that, students would start trickling back into Oxenfurt, classes would start up again and she'd effectively be under house arrest, for how much the others would want her to go out. "I'm sure they're fine. I know I don't know them as well as you do, but I got the impression they both know how to take care of themselves."

Ciri sighed and sat down on the floor by the couch, resting her head back against Bea's leg. "You're probably right," she said, and she knew it was true—but still, she worried. Geralt wasn't the best at communicating long-distance, but he always made an effort to keep her informed as soon as possible whenever important things happened. And Yennefer…ever since she'd told Ciri what happened to her, back when they were living at Melitile's temple, she'd never lied to her. Not even by omission. It was hard to shake the feeling that there was still some danger, especially when she kept checking her phone and finding no notifications.

"Are you sure they're not just…?" She let the sentence trail off, but even though she wasn't facing her, Ciri could practically hear Bea raising her eyebrows. She rolled her own eyes in response, another gesture that went unseen.

"I'm telling you, you don't know them like I do. You just said as much. There's no way."

Bea laughed. Ciri wasn't so sure what about the situation amused her so—every time she brought it up, she would be smirking about it for hours afterwards. At first she thought it was just because Bea liked getting a rise out of her, but now she was starting to wonder whether or not she thought the idea truly had merit. "But do you know? When was the last time you asked either of them about their love life?"

"Uh. Never." Ciri wrinkled her nose in distaste. She could just imagine how those conversations would go—Geralt taking five minutes to construct a single sentence, Yennefer dancing around the question but still ultimately telling her what she wanted to know.

Another laugh, this time accompanied by Bea's hand reaching over to card through Ciri's hair, loosening the tie that held it back. She didn't like that Ciri always put her hair up, no matter how many times Ciri insisted it was easier that way; if she left it down, it would just get in her eyes. As it was, even though she was annoyed and worried, she sank into the touch. "You're going to get a call, all right," Bea said, "and it's not going to be from either of them. Just you wait."

so idk how many of yall are also into dragon age but i've been playing inquisition the past couple months and i'm already writing fic for it because i have no self-control. there's a one-shot already posted and like not to self-promote but it would be cool if yall checked it out, i'm always really anxious about jumping into new fandoms and it also gave me a lot of trouble to write lmao

also i found out i got accepted into the grad program i applied to but i'm also getting Zero Funding, so any plans i had of an update schedule that's actually consistent will be put on hold for a couple more months until i get things figured out. i've got to get a place to move lined up (for late may) on top of getting things in order financially so...i'll try to post at least semi-regularly, but as usual i make no promises