For the Whumptober prompts 4 "Hallucinations/Sensory deprivation", 27 "Voiceless", alt. "Venom" and the Angstober prompts 22 "Crocodile tears", 27 "Curled up"
It is quiet. Not a single sound. Eerie. Absolute silence. But should he not hear twigs crunching under the soles of his boots? The autumn wind whispering in the trees' orange and yellow leaves that lend a golden glow to the picturesque landscape? A multitude of birds twittering in the bushes and sheep bleating in the distant meadows? How can there be this deep and utter silence? And why is he alone? Where is everybody? Milva? Regis? Cahir? And, most of all, Geralt?
Jaskier opens his mouth to call out his friend's name, moves his lips, but no sound comes, not even the softest of whispers. Again he tries to break through the silence, humming a tune this time. Only, there is no tune. No song. No words. Not a single sound. Jaskier's heart constricts. Has he gone deaf all of a sudden? Mute? Deaf-mute? Instinctively, his hands move upwards, to his ears. They are still there, he can feel them, but why won't they work? Jaskier shakes his head and claps his ears repeatedly, yet, nothing changes. He is deaf like a post. Tears well up in his eyes. If he loses his ability to hear, he cannot compose music anymore, can he? Cannot sing and play the lute. He will lose the one thing the gods put him here in this world for. And he will never hear Geralt's voice again. His grunts and hmms and fucks. Geralt calling him 'Jask'. He sinks to his knees at the edge of the forest, hot tears streaming down his face. Then he screams, voiceless cries of devastation. Cries no one will hear.
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"Dammit, Regis, can't you do something? Anything?" Geralt asks, his fists clenched so hard that his knuckles have gone white.
"Unfortunately not much, I fear. If it is what I suspect, the venom is a strong one and there is no known antidote, but it is not lethal. The hallucinations it causes can be extremely scary, like a very bad nightmare. The effect will soon wane, though, trust me. Just make sure he does not vomit and asphyxiate. He'll be fine, don't worry, Geralt."
Geralt curses. Despite the barber-surgeon's encouraging words, seeing Jaskier curled up on the ground, screaming and sobbing big crocodile tears, is hard to bear. Had he known about this evil, burrowing fish with its poison stings, he would never have proposed they have a bath in the lake before dinner. But he did not know, and neither did Milva or Cahir. Even Regis had never seen the fish before in his long life, only read about it. An exceptionally rare species, according to the barber-surgeon, and usually found farther south. What shit luck to step on one of these buggers here. If it was indeed the bloody fish and not something else entirely. Jaskier's toe is red and badly swollen where the sting was inserted into his skin, but Regis has already treated it with a cooling ointment and is just wrapping a bandage around the foot.
"Got you!" they suddenly hear Cahir shout from the sandy lakeshore. And indeed, skewered on a pointed stick, Geralt can see a big fish that is thrashing around and gasping for air.
"Urgh, what an ugly beast," Milva says, staring at the dying, venomous animal. "Are you sure it's edible, Regis?"
"It's a delicacy. At least that is what the books say. And soon we will be able to find out ourselves. How exciting, don't you think, Witcher?"
"I don't care, main thing is, it's thoroughly dead," Geralt mutters. It is ridiculous to feel so much hatred for a simple fish. Yet, witnessing the pain it has caused his bard, it is quite satisfying to see it breathe its last breath, impaled on Cahir's makeshift spear.
While Geralt and Regis continue observing Jaskier, Milva builds a campfire and Cahir gills and prepares his catch. Soon the delicious aroma of roasting fish wafts throughout the air, making their mouths water.
All of a sudden, Jaskier sits up abruptly. "Is dinner ready?" he asks as if nothing has happened. Then he notices his friends' concerned gazes. "Anything the matter? And, fuck, why am I in my braies?"
Geralt jumps up and gets Jaskier's clothes. In the meantime, Regis tells the baffled bard about the evil, now dead fish.
"Fuck," is all he can say. Vaguely, he remembers a flare of excruciating pain shoot up his leg from his toe and the horrible feeling of not being able to hear, but the effect of the venom seems to have faded almost completely. And he is hungry, dastardly hungry.
It does not take long and the comrades are sitting around the campfire, gorging themselves on the indeed delicious fish. Knowing that the beast deserved it makes the meal even more enjoyable.