pylea | ( DON'T BLAME ME, LOVE MADE ME CRAZY )

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( DON'T BLAME ME, LOVE MADE ME CRAZY )

[ yennefer has every intention of finally escaping geralt. she storms away from the roadside, uncaring if it means she now has to navigate the terrain alone until she stumbles upon a tavern and finds herself in the company of irritating people. she'll do it to spite him. yennefer's done plenty in her life to spite those around her, and she's won each and every time.

but after a good ten to twenty minutes, she slows her angry stomping. the earth doesn't quite shake beneath her feet as it did when she had spun away from him and flitted away from the roadside like the tornado he claims her to be. she begins to settle down, losing her wind. hardly regretting a moment of her own anger towards him, yennefer finds herself regretting much more.

telling geralt about her wish to be important to someone had cracked her open like the earth beneath the foot of an invisible giant. even as she tries to patch that gap so it no longer exists, a hairline fracture remains in its wake. she hates him for what he's taken from her. free will, her desire to belong—she doesn't want to be trapped in anyone's orbit but her own.

she takes a seat along thick round logs, back to the main road as she peers over the cliffside. all she sees is endless and unconquered terrain. it's looking out at the heads of trees that she decides her next plan of action. if she wants to spite geralt, she knows it's best to do it in front of his face.

she waits patiently for him to eventually arrive. she has no doubt that he won't. after all, didn't he wish for her? he's bound to find her once again.

the quiet's disrupted by the familiar clopping of roach's hooves. she listens carefully as he comes within earshot, his footfalls familiar and strong. she doesn't hear the sliding feet of jaskier trailing behind him pathetically. yennefer doesn't allow herself to feel pity for him losing jaskier. he deserved it.

she refuses to look at him, keeping her gaze straight ahead. she knows he'll stop. geralt is nothing if not inescapable. ] Did you piss off Jaskier, too? [ she scoffs, shaking her head. ] What a day you're having, Witcher.

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[Geralt doesn't let go, but he's also doing everything he can to avoid eye contact as he does. He needs to, eventually. He can't very well walk in holding hands with her. They'd look like fools.

He just wants a moment, breathe in her smell and pretend it's real.]

No. [He answers, quickly. That's not quite what he meant to say.]

Seperate beds? Suppose you'll be wanting a bath?

Yes.

[ although yennefer is as vain as they come, she knows she smells like utter shit. after the fight, after the mountainside, all the walking… she wants to feel clean and to scrub the day off. her feelings feel convoluted and sticky, and she wants to feel fresh. ]

I smell like shit. And while I sometimes like smelling like you, this isn't the scent I want to go to bed with.

[ she smiles at him, although she purposefully forces it. she's well-aware she's insulted him.

and she hasn't corrected him about the beds. she doesn't like that idea, being separated from him like that. even after everything.

fucking geralt. ]

[The insult just kind of sails over Geralt, like he's very used to commentary about his smell and yet has never sought to change it. Yennefer's scent, however, is something he enjoys very much.

..And he would agree that it has lost some of its lustre after the day.

So he simply nods, walking ahead to order them a room with a bath. He slides the coins forward quickly, trying not to visibly react to the cost. He slips back out, situating Roach into the stables and by then the room and bath is ready for them.

Geralt opens the door for her, letting her pass before entering.]

Is it to your liking?

[ it is, solely because he's there, though, yennefer won't admit as much. confessing that opens her to ridicule and his head growing ten times bigger than it is. ]

It'll do.

[ she's grateful, though. slipping into the room, she looks around at anything and anywhere that isn't him. she begins to slip out of her thick coat. ]

Is it to yours?

[ it's only fair she asks. ]

[She's only taking her coat off, and she has his full attention. Good god. If he'd known a set of shoulders could inspire feelings like this, he'd have taken his chances with Jaskier..

But he knows that's not true. And he knows he's glad that all of his mistakes lead him here. Back here. Those shoulders, those curls, the faded scent of flowers and berries and the teasing lilt to her voice.

He moves in behind her, arm circling around her and hand splaying as he guides her back. He presses his lips to her neck, softly. It's all gentle, all easy enough for her to pull away if she wishes.]

It is. [He murmurs against the shell of her ear, before he deviates and presses his face against her hair.]

You were gone a second and I mourned you like you were dead.

[ yennefer tilts her head to the side and smiles, especially knowing geralt may not be able to see it. although it's a lot easier to be mad at him, it's just as easy to fall into him. it's too easy. it's what she prefers. ]

Dramatic.

[ but she smiles. it's the kind of love song that she likes, deep, deep down. geralt can be sweet when he wants to be, despite all the roughness he's known for. ]

I'm still mad at you.

[ but that doesn't stop her from placing her hands against the back of his wrists. she doesn't try and tear him away. she wants to ensure his hands stay there, locked in place. ]

I know.

[He murmurs against her skin, soft and warm. It doesn't feel like it should have his rough, calloused hands on it. Undeserving of the gifts she hides under her dresses.

But..]

If you didn't want me here, you'd make me leave. [And he would. His hands start to pull at the laces of her bodice, drawing her dress open until he can slip it off her.

He wants her now, but..]

I take it you'll want the damned bath now?

[ now that he mentions it…

yennefer smiles. ] I do.

[ and if it'll frustrate him? even better. she doesn't try and stop him from undressing her. she wants her bath and she doesn't want to have it alone. but asking—or demanding—he comes with her only means that he gets what he wants… and yennefer wants to torture geralt just a little.

despite how tempting it is to glance over her shoulder at him, yennefer doesn't. she looks straight ahead and smiles, all the while knowing he won't see it. ]

Are you going to draw it? Or must I do everything?

[Geralt knows damn well he's being taunted here, but it's fine. It's the thrill of the chase, isn't it? Will they ever be a normal, loving couple or will they look for ways to infuriate each other until one of them dies?

He steps back, frowning even though he has the lovely view of her. He sheds his boots and his shirts, he'll work on his pants later. For now, he's going to step toward the big, empty tub and give her a dull look.]

I thought you'd be magicking in some perfumed water from the springs of a faraway land.

[Aka, I'm lazy you do it.]

[ look at that view.

yennefer gives him a slow once-over, uncaring if he catches her. geralt may be an oaf at times, but he's a very handsome, well-built oaf who isn't so horrible to look at. while other women may faint at the mere sight of his ghastly muscles and frightening golden eyes, yennefer experiences the very opposite. ]

You're very lazy, Witcher.

[ and when yennefer steps out of the clothing piled at her feet, she walks to the tub nake, brushing by him passive aggresively. she'll draw herself a fucking bath and make him smell like the sweetest flower his teeth rot. ]

Take off your trousers unless you need me to do that for you, too.

[ standing at the tub, she holds her hands out and does as he suggests—she calls forth the most perfumed water he'll ever smell. perhaps being overwhelmed by the scent will finally kill him. ]

[Geralt's eyes follow yen as she brushes past him, using immense restraint not to grab her as she walks past. As the pungent, floral smell fills the air, Geralt immediately regrets leaving this in her hands. He enjoys the perfumed scents on Yennefer, on himself? It's not his preference.

He grits his teeth as it spills into the tub, but he's unlacing his pants all the same. Being ordered to do so is a secret thrill and he's reasonably sure she's already figured it out.

His trousers drop to the ground and he steps over beside her, holding out his hands as if he means to help her into the tub like a servant would help a royal.]

After you.

[ she bats his hand away after regarding it with a curled up lip. but what she doesn't regard in such a fashion is him. even with all the bullshit between them, geralt is still one of the most handsome men she's ever had the pleasure (or displeasure, really) of disrobing.

yennefer easily slips into the tub—and does so graciously—and with her arms on the lips, she peers up at him and cocks her brow. and gives him another once-over.

she's allowed. she's pissed at him. ]

I've changed my mind. You can stay there

[ be eye candy. ]

[It is puzzling to Geralt that he holds Yennefer's attention, often he just chooses not to think too much about it. He's certain some of it is the novelty of what he is, a Witcher. Some of it might be earned through his own attributes.

He'll never ask, so he shouldn't let it confuse him. Best not to question a good thing, particularly not when it comes from Yen.

Geralt grunts, but allows her eyes to linger before he plods forward. His descent into the tub is less graceful and easy, water sloshes over the side as he lowers himself into it.]

Come a long way from making me turn around.

[ she rolls her eyes at his gracefulness. the way he moves with a blade in his hands can't quite be replicated when he's not fighting monsters. it's something of geralt that she likes. he's not completely perfect. ]

Would you like to turn around? [ she cocks her brow and smiles. she lifts her hand and gestures for him to do just that. ] Be my guest if it's what you wish.

[ fun choice of words. yennefer doesn't downturn the corner of her lips. geralt being literally naked only means that he's wearing fewer masks. ]

Has anyone ever taken you up on that offer? [He asks smoothly, but there's a real fear she'll make him turn around if he pushes her too much.

He fishes for one of her feet, lifting it with some care not to touch the ticklish parts. His thumbs start to knead against the ball of her foot, absolutely a gesture restricted for her. He has no particular interest in her foot, but he does have a particular interest in doing things that might earn him a crumb of praise.]

We've got a long walk ahead of us.

[ yennefer drops her gaze to where his hand touches her foot. she's slow to smile, but when she does, it's an arrogant curve to her mouth. she can never help herself when it comes to this oaf of a man. she wishes she could. she wishes she could shove him away and abandon him in the shadows of night and never think of him again.

but he has nice hands—and he knows what to do with those bloody hands. she doesn't wish to melt, so she does her best to hide it beneath sharp prickliness.

she cocks her brow, ] Do you not think my feet can handle the trek?

[ who is she if she doesn't needle him? ]

[Geralt knows he has absolutely no way with words, not with someone like Yennefer who remembers everything he says but only when it can be used strategically against him. The worst part is, he admires that about her.

He's an oaf, but he'd like to imagine he challenges her enough to keep her interested. Even if that challenge is enticing her to resist how good a foot rub feels when you've been walking around mountains and rocky terrains for days.]

Not without a callous or two. [He warns.] Might need to start wearing practical shoes. What will you do?

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( DON'T BLAME ME, LOVE MADE ME CRAZY )

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