Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters of the witcher. Those are property of Mr Sapkowski and I using Netflix series canon mixed with the books and my twisted version of the lore.
Warnings : Nightmare. Mentioning and suggestion of past abuses, wounds and blood, some body horror but nothing detailed.
Notes : For the context we have a three almost four years jump for the narrative framing. Italic parts are the memories and dreams.
The devil of Posada - Part 6
Memories
###
Hospitals didn't take witchers and most of the non human species, except if they were mixed blood. Temples and traditional healers were the only places where they could be treated for their wounds and sickness. Fortunately Triss - old friend of his and witch counsellor of the Temerian's throne for whom Geralt had accepted to work - knew where to go and fast. She used a portal to reach the Melitele's temple where he had his sign formation as a kid. Nenneke, the arch-priestess of the temple, was a very old woman now but she still had her fire temper. Seeing him that hurt sent her into a spiral of impressive swearings for a venerable matriarch. Three healers had worked on him for several days to bring him back from the gates of death.
The striga had almost ripped his throat and crushed a part of his chest. The only thing that saved his life was the mutation. No-one hurt that bad could have survived that long before receiving treatment. Triss said that his lower heart beat had slowed down the hemorrhage and she arrived just in time to give him the first aid.
His mutated body was healing quite fast, compared to a human but two weeks in a bed was already too long for Geralt. Nenneke had forbidden him to go anywhere till she decided he was strong enough.
He took his phone for the fourth time, reading again and again the message Jaskier had sent to him. The young man hated the photo the witcher had chosen to represent him in his contact list. This was a shot taken by surprise while he was in deep sleep. His hair was a mess and he was drooling. Geralt loved that shot because it was Jaskier to his purest and also just because it annoyed him a lot.
When he would come, it would mark the beginning of the forth season they would traveled together, or should he say : they joined for some months every year.
His brothers and Vesemir didn't understand that strange friendship blossoming and Lambert had even suggested killing the young man. Geralt wasn't sure it was a joke. With Lambert certain things had to be taken with a good dose of salt, and sometimes he was extremely serious. But to him, Jaskier had quickly become a vital need. They couldn't understand what he was bringing to him. So much light in his darkness. Yet three years ago he wouldn't have said that. And to be fair, he wouldn't say it out loud now.
- "I'll be there in one hour or less. XxX" was the message. It was sent about forty minutes ago. The chaos concentration in the sacred building was interfering with technology and only messages were going through.
He was about to reread the message for the fifth time when he heard the voice from afar. Jaskier's chanting voice was asking where his bedroom was. Geralt smiled. He heard the young man approach and when he opened the door, he felt his heart beat a bit faster.
- "Hi there. I am glad you are finally here." He said, his voice raspy as hell.
Jaskier looked at him with some worried eyes but smiled back.
- "I am not with you for a few months and you're doing everything wrong." He took a chair and sat next to him, crossing his legs elegantly. He put his harp near the bed.
Yeah some things didn't change, and this was good. Jaskier's songs about Posada and the White Wolf - his heroic witcher - were the success he needed to gain some wealth. And that success had positive repercussions on Geralt's work as well, as people want the services of the famous White Wolf of the stories. The Butcher of Blaviken was slowly falling into oblivion. But Jaskier was dealing with that in his own way. He had some new fancy clothes, had several more conquests on the road every year, but fundamentally he was still that boy he met at the motel, four years ago.
Geralt knew. He saw, even now, the love the young man had for him. Love that he didn't fully understand and couldn't reciprocate. But this unnatural friendship they shared was his best shot at it.
- "What happened this time, Geralt ?" The young man asked, looking at his throat.
- "A striga. I found a way to lift the curse but the poor girl was still a beast. I let my guard down and she almost killed me."
- "I guess the easy way would have been to kill her first, right ?"
- "Yes."
- "But you had to try the most impossible thing." Geralt rolled his eyes. "Don't look at me like that. There is a big heart under that scary shell. But sometimes you lack brain."
- "Oh shut up."
- "Certainly not."
- "Well then, speak about something interesting at least. Give me the news." Said Geralt to make a diversion.
Gossiping was Jaskier's favorite activity. While he was simply enjoying his friend's company and listening absently to what he was saying, he had a flashback from Posada, where the legend began…
###
The anticipated return to the human world as Geralt proverbially said was a bit delayed by the amount of work around Roach. He didn't have that many things but the elves had thrown everything away.
After collecting and putting in his cover the remains of his harps, Jaskier helped him repack his belongings. He stayed on the platform, folding his clothes and putting them in what was left of his main bag, while Geralt was kneeling by the side of the car, retrieving everything that he could from the bushes and examining in a more detailed way the damages on the bodywork of his vehicle. With the exception of the heavy scratches he could do some of the work by himself. For the light it was less damaged than the two front ones were. He would change the bulb and wait for another payment to repair the glass. He was lucky that none of his door glasses had been broken. And that the elves didn't penetrate the pilot compartment. His papers and weapons were still there.
Seeing the good in the bad. That was an advice from Vesemir he had yet to master, but this little list was reassuring.
He looked from below at Jaskier from whom he was seeing just the top of the head over the ledge of the platform. The young man was an emotional guy but with a great capacity for recovery. He probably had mastered the skill Vesemir wanted him to learn.
Geralt was strangely at ease with him touching his clothes, even personal stuff. He had that weird impression the young man was already part of his brotherwood. And yet he was totally different. The only thing that was bothering him was the babbling. Jaskier was gossiping again about the waitress at the motel and her father. Geralt was not listening, until :
- "You know, there are many other colors than black." Jaskier joked after a while.
- "Black is best for the hunt." He replied looking back at those big gray eyes that were now looking down at him just above the ledge.
- "And when you are not hunting ?"
- "This is sober and elegant." He smirked.
Jaskier laughed slightly. He was visibly trying not to because it hurt but he couldn't help.
- "Can I ask you a personal question ?" Tried Geralt throwing new clothes in the back, over the ledge.
- "Go on, buddy. We don't know each other very much yet, but I am packing your pants, so yeah you can surely ask something personal."
- "Are you aware that we are in a very precarious situation ?"
- "Yes, why ?"
- "This was just to be sure. I won't lie, you seem pretty much clueless sometimes."
- "You know you can tell me when you are not interested in something. I can change the subject. But don't try to shut me up when I am bored, especially when I am doing the laundry. Nobody ever could. That's not a big witcher that would change that."
He said that in an unreadable way. He was visibly joking but his eyes were strangely piercing, giving to that young face some unexpected gravitas.
- "Good to know… but learn that I really don't care about your girlfriend, her father or anyone else."
###
That was still a rule. But Jaskier didn't care much about rules. He loved those little stories from people's lives. It seemed that it was how he connected with others.
Even if he was bringing back those kinds of annoying things, since they were on the road together, he always collected many stories about potential monsters for him. Geralt was amazed by his memory, but that explained partially how he got his diplomas. The fun thing was that he could memorize hundreds of stories - he had like an infinite memory for people - but he often couldn't remember where he had put his toothbrush. Especially when the time to leave a place had come.
Geralt was looking fondly back at him while he was giving him the news from Northern kingdoms. There were a lot of moves in Temeria and Redania recently. And Cintra was preparing for war. Like every time.
- "Jaskier, can you help me? I want to get out." He cut the long monologue suddenly.
- "I am not sure I can help you out. And you need to heal. You are not on the top of your shape, you know." The young man seemed genuinely worried.
- "Ì just want to go in the temple's park, you idiot."
- "Idiot yourself. You know, you can use context in sentences too, Geralt."
He smiled. Having fun of Jaskier for those kinds of things was a secret pleasure. The young was rambling but helping him anyway. Geralt felt still weak. They took some time to get him in the wheelchair without busking any of his healing wounds.
The physical contact with the singer pushed new memories from Posada.
###
In the restaurant. The odd perfume of flowers in the smelly place. His skin scent underneath. The gentle eyes. The seductive smiles. But the first real touch was special. When the elves had released them. It was a simple hand to help him get up but Geralt felt so many things. The quivering of his muscles from the rush of emotions. The strength in his hold. The delicatessen from his movements. He could smell his sweat from the fear and the effort, but he smelled good too. The mental image he had was sunshine. It was just a construction of his brain but he like this one.
###
And today, Jaskier smelled the same. Flowers and sunshine. This was bringing him inner peace somehow.
They had talked a lot about their relationship in the first few days and their positions were clear. He accepted to be Jaskier's muse if he respected the fact that he didn't want to be seduced. And the young man respected that, assuring him that his love wasn't carnal anyway. To Geralt the last part was a lie at the time but Jaskier never tried to get him after that thoughtful discussion.
And then around it, they built a weird but solid friendship. But this was meant to be for reasons he couldn't tell.
Jaskier was continuing his verbiage about politics and people of the Continent while wheeling him out of the building. The garden wasn't colorful but it had plenty of scents. Medicinal plants for the most part. They weren't the only persons to have come to enjoy a bit of fresh air. The Melitele's temple of Temeria was one of the biggest of the Continent. It welcomed a lot of people independently of the race. There were a few wounded elves, dwarves and gnomes here, to have sought refuge.
Jaskier stopped under the shadow of some trees. He sat on the grass in front of him. He put his instrument near, checking several times if it was stable. Since Posada, and the incredible gift he received from the elves, he almost never let his harp out of his sight and was very protective over it. This was a traditional elven crafted one, more than two centuries old. It was smaller than his first one but the sound was incredible. Even for him who wasn't a connoisseur.
- "You scared the crap out of me this time, buddy." Jaskier said, tilting the head slightly, but looking very serious. "End of the winter, no news from the first two months and then this message. You at the temple, just coming back from the dead."
- "You know how dangerous my job is, Jaskier. You've seen it with your own eyes."
- "Yes but, you're always more reckless when I am not around and you take such dangerous missions sometimes."
- "I am here to do the job, I am not here to take care of myself."
- "What a stupid statement… Dead, you wouldn't help anyone. I mean…" The young man looked at the bandages visible from under his loose shirt. He was clearly sad but he shifted mood like he often did when he wanted to hide his real feelings. "... the only good part is that you are wearing something other than black now."
- "You would lose your best income if I disappeared. I won't die soon." Geralt tried to joke, but that didn't reach the young man the way he intended it.
- "You have no idea of what you are talking about." The tone was dry and the hurt in his eyes visible again. "There are other ways to win than being ripped apart and crushed by a cursed creature."
- "She was the King's illigimate daughter." He kept his voice low in case someonewas listening. "I promised to try to break the curse and I did. She is there somewhere, by the way. In a very private section of the temple. They try to help her to become human again after fifteen years as a monster."
Jaskier tilted his head in the other direction and smiled sadly at him.
- "Are you trying to find a cure for yourself ?"
Geralt didn't reply. There was perhaps a grain of truth there. He often felt cursed by his mutated condition. But there was no cure for witchers. The mutation was irreversible and only death was freedom.
- "You are not a monster, Geralt. You have more heart than many humans. Those wounds are proof of that. Who on this Continent would try to save someone from one of the strongest and evilest curses in existence, throwing their own life on the way ? I just wish you hadn't this almost suicidal incline to make it so."
- "I know what I can do."
- "Yeah… But do you know what you can't ?" Geralt grunted for an answer. "I wish every mission you take was like that day in Posada. A good old fashioned lie and some crazy chaos magic. This is what made the legend of the White Wolf, you know. And did you know that…"
###
- "Hmm Geralt. We have company." Said the young man, cutting his thoughts. He was pointing at the forest.
Torque was there, in the shadows of the trees but not hiding specifically. Geralt stood up and approached a little bit.
- "Torque is sorry for trouble."
- "This was not your fault. You did what you could. The situation is complex and I understand."
- "Witcher said help elves and Torque but Torque worries. Need food for elves. Need steal."
- "Yeah I know. I haven't figured things out yet."
- "Hum… You haven't but I have some ideas, buddy. Can I ask something ?" Said Jaskier in his back. They look at him. "Do witchers learn theater as kids ?"
- "What ?!"
###
Jaskier was back in exposing in great detail the last news of the small town. How what they did pushed a more respectful approach to agriculture in the Valley of Flowers. That, in three years they had almost changed everything and even created a local fest in honor of their protector. They didn't know it was the devil they were afraid of. And he was sacred now, as the spirit of the forest, in the shape of a white wolf.
His mind drifted to this incredible night. All his missions couldn't be like that, for sure. The issue was almost exclusively direct confrontation, pain and blood.
###
Jaskier asked for an additional bed to stay with him for the last days of his healing process. There was a good bit of negotiations there. Nenneke wasn't pleased to have the young man around. His reputation of being a seductor and a man of the nights was at the origin of the problem. But Geralt promised her he would keep an eye on him to make sure he didn't trespass any sacred boundaries.
Nenneke was more than two hundred years old but he always knew her with this face. Even more than sixty years ago, when he was a newly created witcher, sent there by Vesemir to learn sign magic. He was her secret favorite kid of the group at that time, but she never failed to provide a lot of love to every child. She had this huge amount of motherlike love deep inside of her. After the traumas of the herbs' trials, their stay at the temple with this her was a way to help them to take over. This was a small healing patch, but a very necessary one. And that connection between the witchers and Nenneke was as strong as a mother and their children. He loved that woman. And probably every witcher she had the opportunity to teach was feeling the same.
Magic was preventing her from aging normally and kept the death at bay. This was a strange natural phenomenon that happened to some chaos users. Otherwise it was a forbidden spell that some witches and mages were using on themselves. The price to that forever youth was terrible some said but necessary to prevent an abusive use.
Nenneke wasn't like those creepy people. Healers in general didn't take this shady path. She had just been blessed.
Jaskier was on the small bed not far from him, in a totally messy position. He was half naked with the sheet almost gone. He had fallen asleep so quickly and was already in a deep phase. The young man was a good sleeper in general, unlike him. Geralt smiled and took his phone. He took a picture. This wasn't a good shot, the ambient chaos was messing a bit with the camera, but it was clear enough. This could be the next avatar he would choose for his friend on his contact list. Or at least this was material for an instant win in an argument. He put the photo on his special folder : Make Jaskier crazy.
For a moment, he looked at the other pictures he had taken over the years and laughed discreetly.
The young man was a wandering bard, rising star of the Continent, now, but Geralt knew the real him, the part that mattered to him : the messy boy, the one falling in mud pits, the one being chased by monsters and climbing trees to escape, the one eating random things in the road and vomiting his belly out for hours when it wasn't going from the other side, the one sleeping in strange positions at the end of the day...
In three years he had collected some very funny shots from their travels. He didn't care much about the success he had as a singer, even if he benefited from it, or how he appeared to the world. Jaskier was the most natural man he knew around him and it was so precious when he was in a dark mood. Like these days.
He didn't tell the young man yet that there was a problem waiting outside the sacred walls of the temple. That his victory over the striga hadn't brought respect from every one. Like a few years back he was still the monster too from many people... Geralt touched his bandaged neck. He had a tricky fight waiting for him. He sighed. He needed some more distraction.
He couldn't connect to the internet here, but he had saved some photos from Jaskier's Nomee. And there was one in particular he wanted to see now.
This was a selfie made on the road, a few weeks after Posada. They both had scratches everywhere. He was terrifying on that shot, full on cat elixir, but Jaskier was smiling genuinely and visibly happy. On his account he entitled the shot. We are alive.
He switched off his phone and looked back at his friend. There was a single truth in there we would even whisper. He felt more alive when he was by his side. How that twenty three years old man could change his own perception of himself. A perception forged in decades of self loathing and public hatred. He closed his eyes, and let the memories of Posada take over his dreams.
###
Geralt was on his way to the town, turning the crazy plan of the young man in his head. The most unbelievable thing was that this could work but that was risky. You have charisma. You have the voice. Jaskier had said to him.
For his part, he just needed to commit to the lie.
He parked in front of the town house and entered in a dramatic way. The dirt on his clothes and the marks on his face were adding to the urgency. The hostess was terrified.
- "I need to talk to the town master. Now !" He said.
- "Yes sir. A moment." The woman called the office. "Sir, the witcher is here. He is asking to see you. This seems… urgent."
The town master came a few minutes later by the stairs. He looked at him from head to toes.
- "What is it ?"
- "I have killed the devil but we have a problem."
- "Do you have proof of the kill ?" The short man raised an eyebrow. He didn't seem too scared of him and certainly did not believe him.
- "No. The creature turned to ashes, as all devils do. But I can prove the rest. My car has some nasty reminders of the fight."
The man approached a window and looked at the black pickup outside then turned toward Geralt unphased.
- "The problem is that the devil was just the consequences of some farmer's wrongs. The forest has been burnt in several places in the contrefort of the mountains. Some people are trying to get more lands, pushing toward the east. But burning down the forest has weakened the protective spirit that leaves there."
- "Wait what ? Spirits don't exist."
- "Says the man who believes in devils and paid my services to get rid of it."
The town master whitened.
- "Do you think that because we are a small community of land people, we are so gullible ? You are making things up." He tried to get his composure back.
- "I am taking you seriously but my hope is that land people, more than anyone else, would understand how important what I am saying is. You called me so this is already proof that you know the monsters and the invisible world exist. I fought and I killed the fucking devil for you but now you have something to do to protect your future. Your mountains, the Blue Mountains, are sacred by one powerful spirit of forests and these mountains are the last protection of the eastern part of the Continent. Greed, cupidity mark the soil where some of you have burnt off the lands. This allowed the devil to pass from the wild lands to yours. It was attracted by the dark emotions in the human's heart, through their actions."
- "But you get rid of it, you said." The fear was slowly taking over. The hostess too was listening and frightened.
- "Yes but others will come. The more you destroy the forest and your nature, the more your protector is weakening and more dark creatures from the other side will come."
- "What should we do then?"
- "Face it. Make amend. And help your protector to heal the ground that has been damaged there and in Posada. The more will come with me tonight, the more it could feel your good will. I let you gather your people or at least you will come, as the speaker of the community you represent." The town master was speechless and trembling slightly. Geralt repressed a smile. This was working. "I will wait for people on the side of the road. I'll leave at eight pm. The spirit likes the comfort of the night. If no-one comes then I'll just leave you behind to deal with the danger you are putting yourself in. I won't risk my life for nothing and certainly not just 500 more orens."
He didn't wait for the response and just stormed out of the building. He went in his car and drove away.
###
The first car to come was the town master as expected. But he was followed by several others. The more they were the better even if it was risky, because there were more eyes to watch.
Soon there was a traffic jam on the road. They started the convoy at the predefined hour and now Geralt was mentally crossing his fingers for what they would witness. He knew what was coming in the great lines but they were not out of trouble yet. By experience he knew that if things like that almost expect the unexpected.
The cars parked on the path Geralt had made, coming back and forth during the last days. The car lights were pushing shadows around. When people came out and gathered around his car, he jumped on the platform. They were about thirty or forty, like somewhere around ten percent of the village. Some had weapons. He spoke loudly.
- "I see some of you are armed. I hope you don't think about using them. Get that it would be a very bad signal to send at a wounded spirit. A spirit wounded by some of you, by your actions." He pointed at the dark ground around them. "Remember that. He protected you."
- "That is yet to prove, witcher !" Someone yelled at him.
There was a little commotion in the group as they were beginning to grow in confidence. Looking at the people talking louder and louder, he suddenly recognised the waitress of the motel. Normally Jaskier shouldn't be visible during the act but she could become a problem. She had seen them together twice and he didn't come back last night from their adventure. Fortunately he had thought about giving back the singers his belongings so there was no sign that he was there with him. The after show was what worried him. But for now, he had to think about the moment.
- "Shut up !" He shouted, silencing everyone at once. "The spirit won't reveal itself if you are all so agitated."
He jumped down his pickup and went through the crowd. He drank a potion of cat elixir, in front of everyone as he walked. Gasps of fear could be heard as people were seeing his face changing. This wasn't a strong shot. The effect would last maybe ten or fifteen minutes at most. But he didn't need much longer. He observed nervously the horizon. Even with his night vision he couldn't see the elves, or Torque in the woods, which was good news. Everything relied on their capacity to create illusions.
The crowd was already beginning to be noisy again when he felt the chaos. His medallion vibrated on his chest and he felt like a wave hitting on his own body and the air was suddenly colder. Surely the inhabitants of Posada felt the same because they naturally went silent.
- "This is beginning." He said with a deep voice, while he stepped in front of everyone. "The spirit has noticed you."
The car lights flickered as the chaos energy was surrounding everything. And then they totally switched off and just darkness remained. Technology, especially electric powered devices, didn't work in a constant flux of chaos. This was one of the greatest mysteries for the scientists till this day and almost the sole reason why witchers, mages and everything of the world before the Dark Age survived. Magic was the only real efficient way to deal with the invisible world and some monsters. And the people were about to have a strong reminder.
A wave of mist came from the forest, exhaling from the soil around and rushing from far under the trees at the same time. It wasn't going further than the knees af if it was heavier than normal mist somehow. Progressively the whole tree line seemed to move and hundreds of animals were slowly walking toward them. In the back of his head Geralt was amazed by how strong the sylvan was, summoning so many creatures at once. This wasn't just a herd like he saw before. The whole forest for miles around had come for this unique event. This was maybe a stage but Torque was the real spirit of this forest. He shivered. Shadows of deers, boars, even wolves - probably coming from deeper into the mountains - were sliding in the white sea of mist, creating volutes around them. Their hot bodies were exhaling vapor, as much as their breath in this cold chaos air, adding to the organic impression that they were coming from the fog. Smaller animals could be seen also but the bigger were those who captured the humans attention.
Geralt heard some weapons being armed. Without turning toward the people he lifted one hand in their direction, asking silently to not provoc the spirit.
At that time, he didn't know how the elves did the trick but even he was amazed by what came next. A light appeared behind the trees and slid rapidly into the mist to stop between the animal army and them. Around it the mist began to move and shape itself. Soon a giant wolf appeared. The choice of the animal triggered for a second the dream he had made. Whose choice was that ? Torque or Jaskier ? And for both of them why ?
The wolf was about two meters high and glowing in a soft cold blue light. His eyes were electric blue and sparkling. With the cat elixir, Geralt could almost see the chaos fluctuations around it.
- "Great spirit ! These people are scared but they want to repair the damages they have done to your forest." He said. "They need guidance. Humans have forgotten about the hidden world but these are land people, they would understand what's important. Please teach them."
- "Is this evil ? Is this a ghost ?" Geralt could hear people question the sacred nature of the phenomenon.
The cloudy wolf looked at the sky and a sad cry seemed to come from his throat. All the wolves there reprised and the night vibrated from their chants. Then the giant animal looked back at them.
- "Get off my land, humans."
- "They came in peace !" Said Geralt loudly, hiding his surprise when the fog wolf spoke. He had Jaskier's voice but was a bit distorted. He hoped his girlfriend wouldn't notice.
- "I see no peace in their weapons."
So he was seeing through that illusion. The elves from the wild land had come massively through portals for this he did learn later. Toruviel and Filavandrel made it possible. All of those chaos users were manipulating it in a very skilled way.
- "What would you want from us ?"
The town master had approached and was just behind him. Geralt was impressed by the courage of that man. He seemed to take his fonction at heart and open to believe.
- "Give strength back. Feed me."
- "What ?"
Geralt knew what was next. He knew the epic monologue that created the legend of Posada and the White Wolf. But things happened differently this time.
The wolf was growling now. His electric blue eyes were on him.
- "Verily I say unto you, the era of the sword and axe is nigh, the era of the wolf's blizzard. The Time of the White Chill and the White Light is nigh, the Time of Madness and the Time of Contempt."
Geralt felt suddenly colder inside. His breath created vapor now. All the animals seemed to crystallize. The wolf turned toward the forest. There was a sound. Someone was crying. This was Jaskier's cry. He was sure of it. He ran in that direction following the trail of chaos. He knew that the elves had created the illusion from the boy's mind. He was with them. But the forest was different. Wilder. Thicker.
He realized late he was a wolf. The white wolf from the illusion. He was fog and energy. He found Jaskier in a glade, surrounded by many corpses. Burnt corpses. He was looking older, wearing very different clothes. From the side angle he couldn't see his face. He had longer hair and they were hiding it. He was on his knees, in the middle of the glade, cupping his right hand against his chest in a protective way.
Geralt approached and froze. There was blood on his shirt, blood on his face, blood dripping down his mouth. The tears were mixing with the red rivulets. When Jaskier looked up at him, he felt cold inside. The pain in his eyes was unbelievably strong. Sobbing, he repeated the words of the wolf.
- "Verily I say unto you, the era of the sword and axe is nigh, the era of the wolf's blizzard. The Time of the White Chill and the White Light is nigh, the Time of Madness and the Time of Contempt."
This was then he remembered. This was a version of the prophecy Filavandrel read from his print from Posada's museum. Why did he have forgotten ?
Jaskier repeated again and suddenly burst into flame with an agonizing scream.
###
Geralt jolted awake, his heart racing painfully in his chest. He looked down at the sleeping form of his friend near him and reassured himself in finding him perfectly fine.
Was it a warning ? Was it more than a dream ? He was trying to convince himself it wasn't but something inside of him was screaming. His child self, many years ago, abandoned on the side of the road, near the terrifying dark fortress of the witchers.
He was meant to be alone. He was meant to stay alone. Maybe he would destroy that young man if he let him stay by his side. He couldn't help but dread the possibility. He let an unvolontary moan escape his throat. He, the seventy plus years old man, the killing machine, the mutant, was in pain because he might lose that young soul he had made a friend of. He stubbornly looked at the ceiling, trying to mute his broken feelings.
Then he felt a gentle touch. Just a brush of fingers against his skin.
- "Geralt ? Are you ok ?" Came Jaskier's sleepy voice.
He had stretched his arm to make contact. Geralt shivered. He let a quivering breath forming vapor out. The cold was real. Chaos was thicker. Jaskier sat up but was still half way through his sleep. He put his head on his arm on the mattress near him and his other hand slid to his. He squeezed gently as fatigue was winning over him. Geralt didn't say a thing. He didn't look back.
The proximity of his friend was soothing but he couldn't remove that deaf anxiety off his chest. He squeezed Jaskier's hand back, trying to filter the many dark thoughts dancing in his mind.
And this the end of the first story.
I chose to push the depressive and silently needy Geralt from the first books but pushing the cursor a little bit more to open him in the relation he has with Jaskier. I hope it went well for you.
I don't know when I will push the next story.
See you soon I hope.