Geralt gave a short, soft hum of contentment as he allowed his head to rest back against his clasped hands, heavy eyelids drifting closed over golden cat-like eyes. Every inch of his body felt heavy. He was utterly exhausted. Uncommonly he was also entirely in one piece. No wounds, bruises, aches or pains bothered him despite his recent return from a drawn-out contract a solid week ride to the south. Relishing in the aftereffects of a long, hot soak in a bath he drifted in the realm between wakefulness and sleep.
The witcher lounged, body draped across the modest couch in the room Jaskier assigned him on the top floor of the inn. Hands clasped behind his head, one extended leg rested with a booted foot on the low table while the other was splayed to the side, bent knee supported against the seat cushion. The scent of lilac and gooseberries lingered on the air. Although Yennefer had been gone for over a week his witcher senses grasped them still as though every inch of him subconsciously longed for her presence.
As though in answer to his subconscious, the distinct sound of heeled shoes muffled first by the babble of the inn's patrons below, then by the carpeted wooden stair hailed the arrival of the sorceress. Geralt knew by instinct they belonged to Yennefer despite her arrival being over a week earlier than expected. Without moving he let out another quiet, contended hum. The only visible sign of his pleasure in his uncanny good luck was the minute upward turn of the corners of his moutn.
Behind the couch, the door opened quietly, and Yennefer slipped into the room. Geralt could hear the small puff of breath the sorceress let out. The sound was coloured by the smile that spread across her features when she noticed his presence. Confirmation that she was pleased to find him similarly returned early from his journey. She approached slowly; the seductive sway of her hips apparent to Geralt in the soft, slow rhythm of her steps. She trailed her finger tips gently along his left arm as she approached before squaring up behind him and running both hands down his arms and across his chest, leaning her body over the back of the couch to rest her head against his chest as he adjusted his position to accommodate her in a welcoming embrace.
Didn't expect to see you so soon. Were the nobles so easy to sway? He rumbled, mumbling against her soft, black locks.
I could ask a similar question; was the contract so dull that you gave it up the moment the issuer opened their mouth? She teased.
A quick "hmm", Geralt's approximation of a chuckle, let Yennefer know her witcher was in favourable spirits. She breathed in his clean scent, unadulterated by horse and made a sound of appreciation.
I see you took the trouble of bathing. Were you expecting someone? 'Tis a good day when you think to bathe on my account she baited with a wry smile.
Hmm, nothing of the sort. Geralt drawled in his gravelly voice, tinged with affection Jaskier demanded it. Or rather I got sick of him complaining that the room was unsavoury to other guests in my absence. Something about the smell of Kickamore guts being impossible to remove from upholstery.
Ahh Yennefer chuckled in good humour Jaskier wins yet another a round against the great White Wolf! She blew out a soft, breathy chuckle though her nose as she nuzzled against his neck to plant a gentle, seductive kiss under his freshly shaved jaw.
Hmm Geralt sighed as he tilted his head to one side, inviting more from the sorceress, holding her in a gentle embrace with one arm while as she leaned over the back of the couch.
As he drew a deep breath slowly into his lungs an unusual cool breeze caressed his cheek, goose dimpling his skin. A sense of wrong spread throughout, a frown formed on his features as he tensed in response.
Is something wrong Geralt? Yennefer enquired drawing back to peer at his face, Geralt's eyes snapped up to the Sorceress but to his displeasure he was not greeted by her countenance but the features of Dandelion atop the sorceress's body. Sitting bolt upright, Geralt unintentionally sent the other sprawling….
"GERALT!" the not-Yennefer-not-Dandelion shot accusingly.
The witcher squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head to clear his mind. As if to serve as a pinch the cool breeze turned icy, whipping his hair across his face. He opened his eyes to find the couch had disappeared, replaced by a thin bed roll tucked against some mossy boulders and sparse bushes. The dawn light hinted at the Eastern horizon doing little to suggest the heavy clouds overhead were empty threats. Jaskier sprawled a short distance away shooting him a dramatic hurt stare.
Well! Geralt! THAT was just uncalled for he complained, putting on airs of offense. I'll have a bruise on my behind for a week thanks to you!
What is it Jaskier? Geralt grumbled, irritation forefront in his tone as reality came back to him. His body reminded him of the numerous aches and pains earned in the recent fight against the noon wraith not two days ago. Not least of which was a deep, burning claw mark across his flank which petered out at the soft of his belly under his left ribs. The stubborn wound had bled through the careful bandaging applied a few hours earlier.
Jaskier huffed, brushing dust off the seat of his trousers from when Geralt had sent him sprawling. You said yesterday that we needed to leave before first light if we wanted to arrive before nightfall. And… well, there first light is. And there YOU are all smiles in your sleep and all. Anyone would think you ENJOY sleeping in the biting cold with naught but the remnants of cooking fire to keep you warm.
Humphh! Don't pretend you didn't know what you were in for when we set out. And don't pretend you didn't count on it to colour some fantastical ballad you hope to write.
Oh! you wound me Geralt!
Geralt ran a hand down his face wiping away the remnants of sleep and took a steadying breath before making the move to sit all the way upright. As he moved, he let out an involuntary grunt of pain as his stiff body protested and his wound pressed against its rigid binding.
Jaskier moved closer and made to lift the ragged edge of Geralts shirt. Let me look at that. Two nights in the weather with none of your potions can't have done that wound any favours.
Fuck off bard! I'm fine. Geralt warned through gritted teeth, batting the musician away. Go get your horse ready. Eat something. We leave in ten minutes.