( WE KEEP ALL THE HURT YOU NEVER KNOW )

[difficult]

[ the first time geralt returns from travelling for a job, yennefer ensures to give him a wide berth at kaer morhen. she pretends that she doesn't give a shit that he's decided to return with monster guts in his hair and smeared over his face. at least roach appears to be in better and cleaner condition. she allows the witchers to fuss over him in their own ways (which doesn't seem like any of them give a fuck at all that he'd been bleeding from the hand) and does nothing to stop ciri from taking her place beside him and bullying him into cleaning himself up before he chooses to sit down and get drunk.

yennefer doesn't get involved.

it's easier to remove herself from the room whenever he's in it, especially when she's not needed. she has no place in kaer morhen other than to be by ciri's side, and once the magical lessons are over, yennefer has no place to go. she remembers the pressure of the blade at her neck. truly, she thinks it should've bitten her, but geralt's a soft heart even when he's as hard as stone and the callouses on his hands.

it's easy to avoid him when others are in the room. it's fucking awkward to ignore the gravitational pull she experiences tugging at her gut like she's some young, foolish girl head over heels in love with the dumb boy who smiles at her when she's left alone with him.

the second time geralt comes back from taking a job a good village or two away, no one is there to greet him. it's in the very early hours of the morning. the world is quiet and dark, and yennefer sits in the great hall with a tankard between her hands. the hall is still in disarray; most of the tables are no longer upturned, but the giant tree remains grounded and ugly as a feature none of them seem to have the guts to hack down.

she thinks to leave, but she doesn't stand. she's too tired, her bones feeling heavy. when sleep chooses to find her here, all it brings to her are nightmares. so, she sits in the dark when no one seems to be around. it's easier; it's become her solace.

she watches him from the corner of her eye before she remembers who she is. she's unafraid of a witcher, even if she's afraid to turn to geralt and have him see right through her. yennefer hasn't been invisible in a long, long time—and she doesn't wish to be to him, even though she knows it's what she deserves.

resting her chin on the top of her hand, she smiles, though it lacks a lot of her usual mirth. ]

You look like shit.

Comments

[gwynbleids]

[Some of that initial rage has subsided from Geralt's heart. In actual fact, a lot of it has. It's been replaced with hurt and a sick, lonely feeling whenever he thinks of Yennefer. He can't stop himself from aching whenever he's near her or whenever he smells her, it's all he can do to keep up the pretence of being furious and treat her coldly.

He doesn't want Ciri to ever think that he'd undermine his obligations to her, even if he can see that she is growing to trust Yen despite their past. More than that, she likes her. She's learning from her. He speaks to Ciri and he hears the echoes of Yen in her words, in the way she tries to emulate the woman who contemplated killing her.

Contemplation, he supposes, is not the same as the act.

But he's stubborn, and he knows it, and the more other people point it out the more stubborn he becomes. Which is why he remains silent as he passes Yen by. He is exhausted, it makes it easy to lean into the silence.

He's not sure why-- if it's the wish or destiny or some other bullshit, but when he takes his tankard and fills it he sets it harshly on the table across from her and pulls himself into a seat in front of her.]

I feel like shit.

[And it's the most he's said to her in days.]

[difficult]

[ at least he's acknowledged her. it's more than what she deserves, but geralt in his roughness and anger is a lot kinder than her. she watches him all the while suspecting she should look away, but yennefer doesn't wish to miss a mere flicker of his expression. she's greedy, as she's always been. while she had spent a good portion of her life lusting for power, she now lusts for this bulk of a man who feels more distant to her than he's ever been.

the other witchers have been entertaining enough to watch from a distance, but it's geralt's company she undeservedly longs for. ]

Bathing would help with that.

[ the corner of her lip curves upwards, but she doesn't commit to smiling fully. she glances down at his tankard and his hands and thinks of him gripping that sword and holding it against her neck without even a tremor in his arm. ]

For a multitude of reasons. For one, she'd stop spending our time together complaining of your stink.

[ while ciri has become a safe topic of conversation, yennefer knows it's also the most difficult and sensitive. ]

[gwynbleids]

[Ah, bathing. An old pastime and favoured form of passive insult from Yennefer. It's almost enough to move him to amusement, but not quite. He makes dull company like this and he knows it, simply sipping his ale.

He's starting to irritate himself with it, then becoming further irritated by the fact that he's already crumbling.

Moments pass as if he doesn't intend on saying anything until finally, albeit sullenly he says:]

Got to give you something to talk about. Give Jaskier a rest.

[Yen might like him well enough now, Ciri still thinks he's a fool.]

[difficult]

[ she rolls her eyes. if yennefer truly admits it to herself, she's missed him. she knows she's missed him. their time apart is like aching for a missing limb. when she had lost her magic, she had thought that she had lost her identity and her home—and geralt had been a part of that.

but he's here, and her selfishness and incapability to be anything but swept up in greed destroyed what little home she already had. ]

Jaskier. [ she lets out a breath. ] In case you weren't aware, he's teaching Ciri one of his favourite ballads about you. It's quite complimentary.

[gwynbleids]

I'm aware. [They don't keep secrets he thinks, but it feels like an ugly thought. Petty. He doesn't want to say it, he doesn't know whether it's better to fight it out or let it rest.

So it's with some resignation that he asks:]

You're not sleeping, are you?

[difficult]

[ yennefer scoffs and pulls a face.

she's not sleeping at all. being in this damp, stony place is disconcerting. knowing that tree is there is disconcerting. knowing what she had done, who had used her as a vehicle for only a few moments, and feeling so empty and now being so full she brims with chaos is disconcerting. sleep feels so fickle these days. it's a gentle punishment for everything she's done. ]

I sleep well. [ she keeps her gaze down and frowns. ] I don't need as much beauty sleep as many others in this place do.

[ she doesn't want geralt to worry. she doesn't deserve it. (yes, self-pity is a look she wears well now.) ]

[gwynbleids]

[This used to be one of the only places Geralt could truly feel safe or think of as a home, but he feels that same disconcerting feeling sitting heavily in his guts.

He expects Eskel around every corner, but he's met with a deafening kind of silence and a feeling of terrible dread.]

Do you? [He asks, some genuine curiosity in his voice.]

Thought about bringing you or the bard here before. Once or twice. [He takes a swig of his drink, watching her over the rim of his mug.]

Didn't think you'd tolerate the rats.

[difficult]

[ well, that's a bit of a bombshell confession—at least to her. kaer morhen is his home. it's the one place she suspects geralt to let his hair down (more than he already does) and lower his guards as well as someone like him can. to think he had wanted to share it with her…that can't be something born from the djinn's wish.

while yennefer wishes to drop her gaze, she doesn't. she watches him with little guarding her expression and releases a soft sigh. ]

I didn't think I would, either.

[ and yet, here she is, enjoying the company of geralt's brothers (lambert in particular, who is just too easy to rile up). ]

I suppose there's a first time for everything. I thought the rats would've been as big as your fist. [ wanting to lift the morose mood before it can truly settle, she tilts her chin up. ] I'm disappointed.

[gwynbleids]

[Geralt tries to let that confession pass, as if it was nothing to him to say. As if it doesn't mean Jaskier and Yen are particularly special, or that he spent months feeling like an idiot for pushing them both out of his life.

He laments that for a moment. The fact that he wanted nothing more than to speak to Yen for so long. Now she's here, and she's trying, but everything feels difficult again.

Geralt feels a vice tighten around his chest, as if he wants to hold on to the anger and contempt he has for her because it's easier than feeling the way he felt before he saw her again.

But something in him eases and.. he laughs. Softly, and into his mug and without looking at her.]

The winters been hard on them, too. [He points out, lowering his mug. There's a thought on his lips and he wants to say it, but he doesn't know how.]

What's keeping you up?

[difficult]

[ that's a stupid question if she's ever heard of one—and she's heard plenty in her life.

yennefer wishes to regard him like he's grown a third unattractive head, but that would be cruel. despite wielding cruelty as a weapon to keep distance between herself and others (and to simply ensure she's never pushed—physically or otherwise—ever again), she doesn't wish to be that right now. geralt is trying. yennefer, for all of her stupidity, sees that.

so, instead, she drops her gaze and sighs quietly. the truth is easy to wield when it's not about to leave her open and vulnerable. ]

If we're being honest, you. And Ciri. [ she glances up at him for a temperature check before looking down again. it's not like her to ever drop eye contact. there's power to be held in that. but yennefer doesn't wish to be powerful right now. ] I think about what choices I made to get me here. I'm not saying it for your pity or understanding, Geralt. You asked me a question; I'm answering it honestly.

[ there's a fine line to tread with him now and yennefer wants all of her cards and expectations laid properly out on the table. ]

[gwynbleids]

[There's a small part of Geralt that almost expects that Yennefer will give him a look or belittle him for the question. Maybe it would feel more normal if she did, more familiar.

But things aren't normal, and they can't act normal. Not without one of them lashing out.

So he meets her eyes when she speaks, because she's trying too. He wants to look at anything but her once she drops her gaze, but he can't bring himself to look away. Everything she says just hangs in the air for a long moment before he brings himself to talk again.]

Why didn't you tell me, Yen? [The diminutive slips out despite efforts to hold it back, if she meets his eyes again she'll find a searching look in them.]

If you were in trouble.. I would have helped. [He presses his lips together like he doesn't want to say any more, but he adds:] For you.