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xuelingxu · 4 years ago

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How Avallac'h actually feels about Cirilla?

Many people claim that Avallac'h only saw Lara in Ciri, or claim that he only used her as a tool. Is this really the case? I don't think so. I have read the original, played the game and now I want to write down my thoughts. I know that maybe few people will probably want to read through this essay, but I'm writing it anyway. Because, I think the relationship between them is complex and interesting and the more I explore it the more I like it. They deserve an essay of such analysis.

First, let me analyze Avallac’h’s feelings for Ciri in the original.

His feelings were not expressed particularly obvious in the original, so I could only make some guesses here based on the plot. But I can be sure that his feelings for Ciri was very complex, and could not simply be summed up "hate".

“...The Swallow can fend for herself brilliantly, she carries power within her to make everything fear her. So, your help is unnecessary. And thirdly… Hmmm…” “Thirdly… Thirdly, someone else will help her now. I hope you are not so arrogant to think that this girl is only associated with your destiny.”

Avallac'h debuted in ‘the Tower of the Swallow", where he warned the witcher Geralt to stop trying to take risks to save Ciri, which were worthless. He very clearly implied that the destiny of Ciri was also associated to him (Aen Elle) in addition to Geralt. Although Ciri was the generation of Lara and Cregennan, the elven blood mixed with dh'oine blood, but he believed that Ciri belonged to the elves. She should also return to the origin of the Elder Blood, the community of her ancestor Lara-the Aen Elle. The symbol of Swallow was new life, and she was also the only possibility to lead the elves to victory over the prophesied White Frost. His thoughts here may be limited only to the hope that Ciri’s ability to through time and space would once again return to the Aen Elle. But he definitely didn’t think of Ciri as a common dh'oine, he inwardly considered her an Elven child.

"Anyway," the dark-haired elf said in a mocking tone, "I can see something special about this little Dh'oine. I can see and recognize her value. It's like finding a gold nugget in a pile of dung. " Ciri's eyes flashed with anger. Avallac'h turned his head slowly. "You talk," he said slowly, "like a dh'oine, Eredin."

He said, "If you ask me, it's more like a pearl in a pig's dung, a diamond in a rotting corpse's finger. "

"You speak our language very fluently, yet it is still a foreign language to you." "I understand what you say. Every word is understood."

Avallac'h had never insulted Ciri. He never despised her for the differences that set her apart from their Aen Elle.

Both Auberon and Eredin had made disparaging remarks about her, and he had never made any negative comment about her appearance. He could see the shadow of Lara in her when everyone thought she had only few elven features in her. He even spoke out in her defense when Eredin belittled her. In his eyes now, Ciri was not a mere dh'oine, she was the carrier of the Elder Blood, she was Lara's daughter, she was the Aen Elle(his)'s hope, no matter who could not speak out against her.

Another point, while the other elves spoke Ellylon, which Ciri did not understand, to humiliate her, he always spoke to her in Hen llinge, which she understood. He affirmed her ability and did not despise her for it.

"Indeed you should not have." The elf's tone grew serious, "Auberon respects you and treats you as a fellow Aen-Elle.”

"I suppose you," said Avallac'h, changing his face, missing his usual calmness,"didn't say anything like that to him?"

"I didn't say anything. As much as I wanted to."

"Be careful. You don't know what you're risking."

When Ciri mentioned Auberon's disgust for dh'oine and discrimination against her, Avallac'h educated her seriously and angrily. He was afraid that after these words were heard by Auberon, he would simply refuse to have children with her. Thus, his plan was broken, and she has only one way to go, which was to go to his laboratory. Although Ciri was forced to have a child with her own grandfather, this path was already the least harmful for her. If she went to Avallac'h's lab, she would have suffered a lot of torture and he's doing everything he can to avoid that.

“You are worthy of being her daughter, and I will not let you take away even the memories of her with you."

He walked up to her and embraced her."I've forgotten." He said gently, "Don't ever mention it again."

When Ciri suggested that Avallac'h himself to fuck her , he emotionally exploded for the first time and almost strangled Ciri. This was the ironclad proof that people love to say he hated her, so let's explore it. Why were he so angry?

In fact, as Lara's fiance, he should have been the father of this "destiny child", so Ciri's best bed fellow should be him. But now he tried everything to make this object into Lara's father. Why?

Because he thought that his Lara's characteristics were inherited from Auberon, thus he expected this child to become Lara 2.0. But he was wrong, he increasingly saw Lara in Ciri. He didn't really need to expect that child anymore, because the ready-made one was right in front of him. An imperfect stand-in. But this discovery made him begin to fear, and even reject extremely. So when Ciri raised the possibility, he became irritated.

The reason he rejected Ciri was not because Ciri was a dh'oine, but "I won't let you take away even the memories of her!" This statement made it clear that if he slept with Ciri, he would forget/be confused about Lara and lost the memories of Lara, and more crucially, he knew that he could successfully sleep with Ciri even without aphrodisiacs-he could get an erection on her. He may have predicted all this so he would try to make Auberon and Ciri have children, he was afraid so he would be directly annoyed after Ciri broke his mask to poke his heart out.

So he choked her, not just because he hated her. On the contrary, he was angry because he had discovered that he could actually think of Ciri as a stand-in for Lara; angry because he had been poked by Ciri at his own hidden thoughts.That was all because he saw Lara in her, he couldn't outright hate her, he had special feelings for her. This feeling was very complicated, love-hate. Noticing her because of Lara, and hating her because of Cregennan. Not just simply hate.

This quarrel ended with a unnecessarily mild hug, interesting! I guess he regretted it a bit when he choked her.

"Because if it weren't for me, the only thing you could have chosen would have been Avallac’h and his lab. Go there and give yourself over to another possibility - and you don't even understand what that means."

Ciri should actually have a total of three options.

sleep with Avallac’h

sleep with Auberon

go to Avallac’h’s lab for artificial insemination

In one of them, he directly rejected the first option by saying that he "can't let her take away his memories of Lara". The third option was more damaging to Ciri, so he largely dismissed it too, and never even mentioned it to her. The second option, on the other hand, was less damaging to Ciri and could potentially lead to a Lara 2.0, which was why he did his best to push it forward. This was the main reason why he forced Ciri to have a child with Auberon.

The original plot about Avallac'h ended abruptly here, and his feelings for Ciri can be summarized as follows in my opinion.

She was the hope of the Alder, the blood of the elves, and she must return to the Aen Elle, return to where she was meant to be.

He saw Lara in her, but he was afraid and rejected this association.

He disliked her rudeness, narcissism and arrogance, and other typical dh'oine "bad personalities".

It is true that book!Avallac'h does not have deep feelings for Ciri, but it is by no means just hatred. People like to criticize him and their relationship just by virtue of the original plot, claiming he only always saw Lara in Ciri. They just totally ignore the whole game plot. From the beginning of the original to TW3, according to the game timeline, the two escape for almost two years. (Not counting the inconsistency of time dimensions in different worlds) It is very normal for the thoughts and feelings of the two to change during this period. And in the game, many positive or side depictions make me very sure that he has definitely developed some feelings for her!

Okay, next let's analyze the game plot!

TW3 was a game that continued the plot of the original "Witcher". Both of Ciri and Avallac'h's personalities in the game had transformed considerably compared to the original, which we could see as a kind of character growth.

In TW3, the Aen Elle world may be destroyed because of the threat of White Frost. In this case, Avallac'h chose to persuade, teach and protect Ciri, who was being pursued by Eredin, as a way to use her Elder Blood to stop White Frost once and for all. His initial attitude towarded her can be illustrated by a report from his lab in the game.

more of Lara in her than I had ever imagined possible.

Cirilla was his for the taking

to regain her confidence and trust at any cost.

It was very obvious that this was a report written after Auberon's death and before he decided to go to protect Ciri. It was clear from the formulaic tone and wording of the report that he just saw her as a tool at this point, a tool that would solve the problems he was troubled with.

But feelings were unpredictable, the game presented a tension between them, and not simply just use, which made people imagine what on earth happened on their way to escape. It's just a shame that the story was left white, which was why people were surprised by Cirillac'h and couldn't believe the huge transformation between them. The Cirillac'h story in the game was a dark thread hidden beneath the surface, for the most part hinting at it. So, I'll go through the plot again to analyze what kind of thoughts and attitudes Ava, after returning from their escape, had towarded Ciri.

A: Ciri came for you. She sensed you were in danger, tore you from the Hunt's grasp, then deposited you in the woods near Kaer Morhen.

G: Did Eredin start hunting her because of that? Because of me? Why didn't she say anything?

A: Ugh. What would it have changed?

K: Come now, who aside from you would know that?

K:Well, we know they were well acquainted, and traveling together.

Avallac'h knew Ciri very well, including not only some small details not related to stopping White Frost (Ciri's sword, mare's name), but also for Ciri's temper. Even Keira said nobody would knew these things except Geralt. He knew that Ciri did not want to tell Geralt it was his fault that she was targeted by Eredin, so this villain would be him to become, to tell him everything. What she did not want to say he would say for her. Moreover, he also understood that whether Ciri told Geralt about the matter or not, she would make the same choice. He also knew that one of Ciri's biggest weaknesses was Geralt. So when she was unhappy, he chose to let Geralt make her happy again.

Velen, probably - the mage opened a portal for her. Then he fought her attacker.

Although Avallac'h was still in a weakened state with the curse, but he still let Ciri escape first, he stayed behind to directly vaporize the Wild Hunt soldier who had wounded Ciri before. In such a critical situation, he still took the safety of Ciri as a priority. He had helped Ciri escape capture and had drawn his sword on his own people, which was a crime that could be prosecuted. He had made a great sacrifice to protect Ciri.

But you know how elves are - he asked many more questions than he answered.

You'll need to do neither. I'll give you a xenovox. It's a bauble that will let us speak over some distance.

Found it in the mine, along with the lamp.Thought it was part of the lamp at first. Didn't realize what I'd actually found until later.

When they were separated in Valen, Avallac'h found Keria and asked a lot of questions(where’s Ciri? Where’s Ciri? Where’s Ciri?). He was very worried about her. He made the very rare xenovox for communicating with Ciri at a distance when they were on the run. I assume he had been using this to communicate with the lost Ciri. After having no luck, he left it next to the magic lamp that he also gave up, left important messages for Ciri and then left Valen.

A:Don't stare, help me.Help us both.

G:Wait, so... you actually wound up there by accident? I thought you and Avallac'h had arranged something.

Ciri fell through the portal into the sea and it wasn't long before Avallac'h was finding Ciri and asking Skjall for help. Sage, who had been staying in his lab in Skellige, found Ciri seconds after she used her power, which was the same as setting a special ringtone on your phone and then answering it seconds after it rang, how worried were you about Ciri? He was speaking slowly and in a low voice at this point, in a very weak state, even to the point of asking for help from a human he depised. His curse was about to explode.

I know he probably found Ciri easier because he was familiar with the movement patterns of the Elder Blood. But was this bridal carry too close? And looking at the skilled posture, he must have done this more than once. In fact, he bridal carried her once more after this time. As a powerful elven sage with countless ways to keep her floating in the air, how could he possibly hate her when he chose to bridal carry her himself? To me, it's a proof that he valued her.

Ciri...Zireael...Can you hear me?

After they had been apart for almost two months, Avallac'h finally got Swallow back. He called her by her real name first, the first time in the entire game that he had called her by her real name in front of her. During his time in his lab, he had experienced for the first time what it was like to lose Ciri. Now that he's lost and found, and with the fact that Ciri was quite injured, I think he was a bit emotional at this point, which was why he can't help but call her by her real name first. His tone was soft and anxious.

In the original, Sage always called Ciri "Swallow", but in the game he started calling her by her real name, a shift that I suspect is as follows.

Just like when Ciri spent so much time in Tir ná Lia in the original that she unconsciously spoke of humans as dh'oine, it was a natural and subtle shift. For they did spend enough time together to change each other without realising it. Avallac'h also began to address Ciri like a human.

Avallac'h began to treat Ciri as an equal individual.

Ciri asked Avallac'h to call her by her human name.

The Wild Hunt tracked down Ciri and the kind Skjall took Ciri to Drowned Dead Rock. When Ciri saw the danger Skjall was facing, she asked Avallac'h to help him, but they had their own trouble so Avallac'h immediately refused. As she kept pulling at him, he cast a spell to stun her, then quickly picked her up and put her in the boat. (bridal carry again!)If he had just used her as a tool, he could have just let her fall to the ground and found a way to throw her in once he was done with the boat.In an emergency, whenever he had a quicker alternative, he always chose to settle with bridal carrying her.

youtube

The most interesting thing to note from the video was that when Geralt asked UMA some questions, he was the most responsive to Ciri's question, despite turning into an UMA. The fact that the Uma curse has caused him to lose his mind and yet he was still unconsciously trying to express something in this situation shew that Ciri had touched his heart.

Her blood… Elder Blood… to open the gate. we can not, we can not allow this. In Skellige… Follow it… Into the mists. Hurry… Hurry!I tried to protect her… But the curse…

After the curse was lifted, his body was extremely weak and he was basically speaking in a breathy voice for the last few sentences, but at this point he still put Ciri first and worried about her well-being.

As I said earlier, he chose a different approach to stop White Frost, but he was also using Ciri. Only in contrast to Eredin, he was adopting a gentle policy. Many people totally disagree that he was obsessed with Ciri because of this-he was using Ciri. But I think it's possible to use Ciri and obsessed with her at the same time, there's no contradiction between the two. He gradually grew fond of her as he used her, and he kept fighting himself.

V:Violently twitching fingers, pupils that don't react to the light… Seen it many times before. Too many.

Y:Toxins have permanently damaged his nervous system. Even if he does pull through… Do you understand?

Ugliest Man Alive - The Uma Curse was meant to shame Avallac'h, and was reasonably speculated to be CDPR's sanction for his dark history. In the original, all the sorceresses who opposed Ciri leaving the Lodge of Sorceresses to find Geralt were killed off by CDPR in the game, leaving only one, Keria, who had helped Avallac'h inquire about Ciri and made a potion to delay the curse's outbreak, half dead. With this experience and the subsequent Trial of the Grasses, which caused permanent damage to his nervous system, Avallac'h pretty much paid off his black history debt in my opinion. He had paid enough cost.The equivalent of being dead once and reborn, he had given everything to protect Ciri.

Avallac'h - he prepared some special ointments for me.

These special ointments for scars had nothing to do with Ciri going to stop White Frost at all. We all knew Ciri hated this scar on her face, she was very happy her scar was a little healed by these ointments. If making a more realistic guess, it would be Avallac'h's gentle policy to win Ciri's trust, a more sentimental guess would be that he cared for her or that he wanted to see more of Lara in her.

Yennefer's magic ran out of power to support the shield and White Frost magic swept across Kaer Morhen. Ciri's fellow defenders were frozen in place, and Vesemir, who had taught Ciri about how to become a Witcher, came close to killing herself to protect her. Caught in a state of utter helplessness and despair, Ciri faced the approaching Wild Hunt, lost control of her power and went straight into a rampage. Although the move forced back the almost victorious Wild Hunt army, the Kaer Morhen crowd was also affected, with Eskel's ears even beginning to bleed and Ciri herself about to have the energy backfire. The weakened Sage came online in this situation and single-handedly channeled the flow to control Ciri in his rampaging state, saving the day for everyone. I think the reasons why Avallac'h was able to take control of the situation so quickly are as follows.

He studied the Elder Blood for a long time and had the theoretical knowledge to face the unexpected situation.

When they fled, he had had the experience to solve this situation before.

His own magical power was powerful.

Even if there is nothing anyone can do, even if the situation is critical and bad, don't be afraid, I am here.

This episode visually demonstrates the unparalleled sense of security that Avallac'h brought to Ciri. I therefore can totally understand the same unparalleled trust that Ciri had in him.

Wait, she needs time. We must let her resolve her grief on her own.

When Geralt chose to go and see Ciri, Avallac'h stop him and explained why. This shows that he knew Ciri's temperament very well, probably better than even anyone else. He knew how to deal with all sorts of situations when Ciri lost her temper, which I suspect was the result of experience. You don't get yelled at much on the run, do you? My dear Sage lol.

Discouraged after a mere eight attempts? Zireael…

He knew her so well that he was aware that at this point Ciri probably did need an opportunity to vent her grief and anger, rather than just asking her not to think about what had just happened, so he quickly turned to Geralt for help. Ciri's comment about kittens and vanilla pudding was more figurative, and I suspect it was Avallac'h's suggestion that she should think about it to help her get over her pain and cheer up.

Sage sighed with an expression of only helplessness, not half-hearted impatience or disgust. Although he was largely expressionless, there were still some fleeting micro-expressions to refer to, and he never showed an expression of contempt for Ciri throughout the game.

You humans have… hm... unusual tastes.

Avallac'h looked at the erotic pictures of the human with obvious hints of sex, and found a more neutral "unusual" from the pile of adjectives to keep it light. All of his drawings in his lab had missed the most obvious difference between human and elf appearance - the ears - and he had only drawn Lara/Ciri's face + Ciri's clothes, when he was still in a state of torn and self-fighting. But now, he was looking at a human erotic picture, no more elf (Lara) shade. He locked himself in his room and was finally able to let his guard down and faced his innermost thoughts when he was alone.

Later in the game he also only admited that he did feel superior to other races, but did not stop discriminating against humans as a result, so it was very unlikely that he specifically went to see the human erotic pictures. It was also very unlikely that he was attracted to the element in these pictures, as we knew from the original that the elven pornography was better than the human pornography. His reference to unusual tastes was an arrogant expression of a man who didn't want to show her real thoughts.

So I presume he was looking at these pictures to brainstorm scenes where Ciri was posed in this way. The episode implied that his self-fighting had slowly ended and started to surrender from the time when he decided to give up his obsession with Lara and went through the time of losing the news of Ciri - and started to allow himself to be sexually interested in the human (Ciri) body which (Ciri) was sexually attractive to him. Simply put, he had desire for her, which was the most straightforward expression of good feelings between a man and a woman.

G:Do you like my new model? Something of Lara Dorren about her, wouldn't you agree, Crevan?

A:Her height, perhaps. Nothing more.

Ge'els representd what Auberon, Eredin and almost all of the Aen Elle thought in the original, that the attributes of Lara in Ciri were basically nothing but green eyes, and not nearly as much as that in a random female elf. Avallac'h who knew Lara best, on the other hand, saw the strong Lara-ness in Ciri in the original (Worthy of her daughter), and he must have complex feelings everytime he saw Ciri. The portraits he drew in the lab implied that his memories of Lara were fuzzy in TW3, and his memory of Lara had indeed been confused by Ciri.

G:From the look of things, pretty soon Ciri won't need your help anymore.

A: Nor yours.

When Geralt touched this sore point with Avallac'h - if Ciri succeeded in stopping White Frost - that's the end of their relationship. Ciri no longer needed his tutelage and protection, and he would no longer have a reason to be with her. He rebuttalled it immediately, waving his right hand with a very dismissive look and a wonderfully sour taste. Because even if Ciri didn't need Geralt's help, the relationship between them would always be there. Unlike Fox and Swallow, if no one was willing to compromise that relationship was dead.

I shan't force her to do anything, if that's your question.

Geralt was always a bit veiled and side-tracked in his conversations with Avallac'h. Avallac'h was quick to understand what he really want to ask. This response also showed that the current Sage would never use wordplay to force Ciri to do something she didn't want to do, just like that Ciri had told Geralt she would have a choice. He who intended to control the Grail (Ciri) in the original had now decided to let go.

You look at her and see a human, a ward, a daughter, even. I look and see the Elder Blood - a power that can destroy the world, a power that must be kept from Eredin's power-addled hands at all costs.

Geralt asked straightforwardly this time about Avallac'h's reason for helping Ciri. We all in God's perspective knew that Avallac'h's main purpose for helping Ciri was to stop White Frost with her power, but this was a secret that the two kept until the end. His explanation here was that he cannot let Eredin have a nuclear weapon (Ciri) that can destroy the world, which meant he was against Eredin invading other worlds.

This reply was also a self-referential one, with Avallac'h implying that he should treat Ciri as the researcher treats the descendants of the Elder Blood. On this point, the two were surprisingly consistent. Ciri said he's only interested in my power and nothing more; Avallac'h said I look at her like a nuclear weapon and nothing else. As a result, one hid in his room looking at erotic pictures and the other smashed up his lab when she saw his mistress. Surely the body is much more honest than the mouth?

When Geralt came back from helping Ciri smash the lab and asked Avallac'h again why he's protecting Ciri, he refused to show his feelings anymore. He could have said that he had to watch over (and protect) the nuke because she was so uncontrollable that the world would have been destroyed if she hadn't accidentally gone berserk. I didn't know that our dear Sage cared so much about the end of the world.

Earlier, when we were in the Isles together, Avallac'h mentioned a laboratory.At one point, he wished to teleport there… to retrieve something. And he refused to take me with him. It was all very strange…

First, @seinyacarol suggested that the two were almost inseparable, going everywhere together. So on the rare occasion that Avallac'h wouldn't take Ciri with him, she got suspicious. He was very honest in the game and didn't hide any of his petty thoughts (except for his affection for Ciri), answering all questions and requests, even though only Ciri trusted him.

Secondly, the reasons why he was reluctant to take her along are, I suspect, as follows.

Not wanting her to see the research material and family tree of the Elder Blood.

Not wanting her to see his mistress.

On the first point, Ciri had previously spoken to Geralt "he's just doing it for my powers, nothing else" and she had a clear perception of that. The two must have also had an open and honest conversation about the partnership, and she should have been psychologically built up accordingly to be a little more receptive. Since he knew her so well, he should have guessed that she knew this in her heart, so this reason should be less important.

Then, the key reason was the second point. They were just teachers and students, even if the teacher had a mistress at home, that was his private life and the student had no right to interfere. Why did you still not want her to see it? Because the existence of his mistress was an irony, an insult to their ambiguous relationship. And he obviously didn't want to see that happen.

Whichever reason it was, it will cause Ciri to drop her good opinion. The dialogue before the ending showed that Ciri had long been determined to stop White Frost, and there may be a layer of good feeling towards Avallac'h, but mostly she identified with her mission. Her dropping her crush on him wouldn't affect her eventual mission to stop White Frost, but it would seriously damage the relationship between the two of them.

That was the fundamental reason why he was reluctant to take her to the lab-He didn't want anything to ruin their relationship.

It's definitely you. Hm, really captured you.Sure Avallac'h's only interested in you for your magic abilities?

He painted seven portraits in his laboratory. There are conflicting accounts of the portraits, so let me make one thing clear first: the original never mentioned Ciri's resemblance to Lara; the only thing she inherited was Lara's green eyes. In the game's setting, however, Ciri's features look similar to Lara's, but they did't look identical. On the basis of this, I have summarised and summarised three ideas:

He tried to portray Lara, but he had confused Lara and Ciri, so the portaits were of Ciri's look-alike.

He drew a Ciri with a healed scar, so the portrait was of Ciri's face.

He pretended he was drawing Lara, but was actually trying to draw Ciri, so the portrait was a Ciri lookalike.

Idea 1: "I won't let you take even the memories of her!" Isn't this a slap in the face for our Great Sage? You can't even remember Lara's face? Ciri's face is all that's in his head now! This is the most mainstream idea.

Idea 2:He made the ointment to heal Ciri's scars. In the original, Ciri's scars were horrific and disfiguring. In the game it has been refined into a linear scar - half healed. If the healing process continued, Ciri might be able to regain her original appearance. But instead of causing a disturbance in her appearance, Ciri's scar was a sign of her in TW3. If the scars were indeed fully healed, it's possible that Ciri had lost her best feature as well. I think this idea is less likely.

Idea 3:This is what I think. He had just taken the first step in saying goodbye to the past and reconciling with himself: he gave up the magic lamp in the Velen lab-he wouldn't communicate with Lara's ghost anymore since she remained silence. This phase in his lab in Skellige was when his self-fighting was at its most intense, and he was now thinking of Ciri, but he didn't want to admit it. He didn't draw the scar so that he could explain to others (himself) that he was not drawing Ciri, but Lara. And this was also the first reason Ciri denied it, believing that without the scar she was not her. Again, these two are surprisingly consistent in finding the same excuse.

Even if two people looked more alike, the senses couldn't be exactly the same. As separate individuals, there were subtle differences in eyes, expressions and temperament. As an adoptive father, Geralt was able to identify the girl in the paintings as Ciri at a glance, and even more directly questioned Avallac'h for having ambiguous thoughts about his daughter for he had saw Lara's statue before-he knew how Lara looked like and could tell the difference between Lara and Ciri's looks.

To spy on him? He tries to save you every time you do something stupid, Isn't it enough?

It should surprise you to say this, but he's told me a lot about you.

He said your features resemble Lara's, but I don't agree, that comparison is like drinking from a mud puddle. But I think that belief helped his mission somewhat.

Do you think he follows you around just for the fun of it? Even I'm bored of seeing you.

She's not human, she's an inferior half breed. It's a shame that we have no choice but to submit to such things.

Well, the famous scene lab drama. This is also one of the most disagreed episodes. Because the words of the elfess confirmed that Avallac'h "hated" Ciri. ok, so I'm going to analyse this episode in my own interpretation.

The mistress had showed up before in the original. At the time, she was due to go on a boat ride with Avallac'h, but Ciri turned up and she had to give up her place. After Avallac'h had kissed her hand, she left, rolling her eyes at Ciri in defiance of her before leaving.

First, no matter how the elf described Avallac'h's hatred of Ciri: the stupid things she did, the fact that he help her because he want to use her, etc., at least one thing was clear: He talked about Ciri all the time, even when he was separated from her, in his lab with his mistress, he still said a lot about her. Contrast that with the fact that he found her as soon as Ciri came out of the portal, and that Sage was really thinking about Ciri all the time.

Secondly, considering that report I gave at the beginning about Auberon's death, he treated Ciri in the original as well as before the escape as if he were talking about a tool. Before the escape, he did have little affection for her, just as in the original, and was full of thoughts of use, which was what the elfess mentioned "to complete the mission". If his attitude had been the same as when he wrote the report, there would have been no need for the mistress to take on the "official" position of dealing with a "outsider" and just roll her eyes like in the original. There must have been a noticeable change in the tone and attitude of him when talking about Ciri, which made her realise that there was more to it than that. That's one reason of her jealousy.

Thirdly, He was under a curse and still drew seven portraits in a short period of time, averaging one in a few days, which was an alarmingly high frequency. Either he was talking to the elfess about Ciri or he was painting a portrait that looked suspiciously like Ciri. This lab, though Ciri never set foot in it, was everywhere: the family tree, the portraits, the Elder Blood research materials, even the chatter about her. When these two were alone, the "Ciri" content was too high. I think the female elf had a certain meaningful misunderstanding of her position. Seeing how arrogantly she provoked Ciri, I thought how close she was to Avallac'h. It turned out that when Geralt went to ask Avallac'h about it in a subsequent episode, his attitude was indifferent. He probably started off treating the female elf as a stand-in for Lara and now treated her as a stand-in for Ciri. One went for sex and one still went for love, which was why the female elf was even more jealous of Ciri. Because he hadn't even begun to have sex with Ciri before he was obsessed with her, and Ciri's Elder Blood that he was obsessed with was something she could never have.

Therefore, she was deeply jealous of Ciri. What she said was in doubt. Why was she so jealous? What explanation is there for a mistress being so jealous of another woman? Isn't this the most obvious evidence? Because she felt that her man had some special feelings for this woman, which gave her a sense of crisis.

The laboratory plot is a mirror version of the plot in the original “A Shard of Ice”. Yennefer (Avallac'h) had a long-term stablemate, Istredd (the female elf), whom she did't love, but he gave her security. That was, until she(he) met Geralt (Ciri) and she began to falter. On one side was true love that could bring harm, and on the other was stability that would always remain as it was. Yennefer eventually chose to break up even after Istredd offered marriage.

So, Geralt and Yen were quickly able to perceive the current relationship between Avallac'h and Ciri when they saw the female elf, and they both went to question him upon their return to the ship.

Y:Or maybe you're just obsessed with her?

A: I'm obsessed?

Having been in the same position as Avallac'h (with a long-term lover), Yennefer could empathise with him and make a rough guess as to what he was really thinking, despite the fact that they were torn for different reasons. So she guessed straight away that he was obsessed with Ciri.

If Avallac'h had no crush on Ciri at all, he would have simply answered "No" or dismissed it with "are you kidding". His response to this was a declarative sentence with a question mark. He said this line with a slowed tone, rising intonation and a fading voice, as if he was lost in thought. This indicated an uncertainty in the spoken language, a doubt about the self. Inwardly he was still reluctant to admit that he had indeed been obsessed with Ciri.

A:I pursued those studies to protect Ciri. To protect Lara Dorren's blood, in whomever's veins it courses.

G:Ran into someone at your lab.

A: Did you now?

G:Mhm. A she-elf. Claimed you hate Ciri. So how's that fit you trying to protect her, whatever the cost?

A: Not at all. You don't really expect me to confess my feelings to you,do you?

When Geralt first mentioned the experiments with the Elder Blood, Avallac'h replied very calmly throughout. But when he mentioned they met a female elf, Avallac'h avoided Geralt's stare and turned his face to the side, his eyes drifting to hide the emotions inside. As a teacher with a student's parents, there was absolutely no need for him to be afraid to face them just because he had a mistress at home. Even if the female elf had spoken out despise of them, he didn't care what others thought of him at all, according to his earlier solitary nature. Therefore, his concern was due to the fact that their relationship was not just between a teacher and a student's parents, but that he had been "caught" by the parents of his ambiguous partner.

He thought that the female elf's claim that he hated Ciri was worthless "NOT AT ALL", and probably he thought that any statement made by the female elf was worthless and nonsensical. This showed that the elfess had a low status in his heart and had no feelings to speak of. All her statements were also of such low truth that there was no need to bring them up for discussion.

When confronted with Geralt's more subtle questioning, he refused to answer with a direct rhetorical question. What, do you expect me to tell you my FEELINGS? If he had no feelings for Ciri, he could have simply said I had no such thoughts. But his refusal to show his thoughts would suggest that he had at least some thoughts about Ciri. And when Yennefer asked earlier, he still doubted himself for a while, but at this point, after thinking about it, he simply refused to state it. I think he sensed his feelings, but he wouldn't admit it. He couldn't even get past himself, so how could he possibly talk to outsiders?

G:So maybe you're hoping to gain control of Lara herself? After all these years?

A: Lara is dead. My only hope is that Ciri will fulfill her calling and survive.

In the original, the tone of Avallac'h's voice changed in a flash as he gently and discreetly stroked the arm of Lara's statue, and now he was finally able to accept her departure with equanimity and honesty. "Lara is dead."This line was spoken in a calm tone, with no rise or fall in tone, and the look remained as it was, just a normal statement of fact. I think it showed that he had let go of his obsession with Lara and that he was now concerned with whether Ciri would survive stopping the White Frost.

Stopping the White Frost was what the female elf called completing the task. The task had been completed, so what did it matter to him whether the tool was dead or alive? If he really despised and hated Ciri, shouldn't he want her to die in place after stopping White Frost? He couldn't have deliberately lied to gain Gerolt's approval, because Ciri had agreed to stop White Frost, and Geralt's low favourability towards him wouldn't have caused her to refuse to complete her mission. So this statement suggested that he sincerely wanted her to get out in one piece. After all these years, he had finally come out of the past and changed the target of his concern from the virtual Lara to Ciri before him.

Oh, yes… the Elder Blood can be fiery.

Avallac'h rejected the idea of Ciri going into battle and asked her to stay on the shore, but Ciri never failed to verbally whine while acting on her own whims and ignoring his requests completely. After Ciri's tantrum, he not only didn't get impatient but helped her with all the excuses - not her problem, the Elder Blood were all like that.

Gealbhan was a Sage of the Alder Elves. He fell in love with an Aen Seidhe elf - Dillian. Yet she spurned him.On the day the White Fleet was to set sail, Gealbhan gave Dillian a gift - the Sunstone.He believed Dillian's heart would soften in time.Once her longing for him burgeoned, she was to use the Sunstone. Though worlds away, he would return for her.

The plot of the Sunstone legend alludes to Avallac'h's feelings for Lara and his willingness to come for her even if he was thousands of miles away when she returned to him, but Lara died and ended up loving Cregennan, so this old love letter was useless. In the lore, Gealbhan (Avallac'h) died of depression because he didn't get a response from Dillian (Lara). I think this might be one of the parallel worlds where he ended up, but not this time.

C: "I give you my heart?" What kind of a spell is that?

A:It's an old love letter. Ancient.As I said, this stone was to reunite a pair of lovers.

youtube

This time, Avallac'h handed this old love letter-sunstone to Ciri, which was reciprocated by Ciri. The two, nearing the end, "confess" to each other in such a wonderful way. He spoke this line in a soft, slow tone, leaning towards Ciri while holding the sunstone and looking at her, as if he were speaking from his heart by explaining the sunstone - this is an old love letter from me to you.

He looked deeply into the mind of Ciri, who was next to him, and what was going through his mind at that moment? I have a couple of guesses.

She was about to defy his orders once again and took the fight into her own hands. He was worried about her.

If she insisted on killing the enemy herself, he would have to think about what advice to give.

Based on their ensuing conversation, he was torn between his two apprentices.

Ciri did want to take on the battle herself, and Avallac'h first used the excuse that she had not yet fully mastered her power to persuade her to stay. After being rebuffed by her, he knew she would really have to face the enemy alone this time, and called out Ciri twice in a row to stop her, each time with a more intense tone. This was also the second time in the game that he had called Ciri by her real name directly in front of her, and he looked serious and emotional at this point, desperate for her to stay. After another unsuccessful attempt to dissuade her, he made the choice to sacrifice his apprentice (adopted son) Caranthir to ensure Ciri's safety. This decision was in fact a difficult one. He felt great regret and pain at the fact that Caranthir had followed Eredin and that he had feelings for the apprentice.Despite this, he still chose Ciri.

Ciri finally left, and Avallac'h finally allowed himself to take off his mask of disguise, and for the first time he showed such a sad expression. What was he thinking at this point? I suspect the reasons for his sadness were as follows.

For the first time since their escape, he was not accompanied and Ciri went to face the enemy alone, and he feared that she would be harmed.

Lamenting the fact that his two apprentices were fighting with swords.

regret for the fate of Caranthir.

The empty dock, snow in the air, nothing but silence, he stood alone. The hood hided most of his face, making it impossible to really see his expression. He looked down at the calm surface of the lake, was he also calm inside?

This Real Time Rendering was eight seconds long and it revealed his extremely mixed feelings at the moment. He was not an elf without emotions, he was just good at disguising himself.

With all this analysis, I think Avallac'h definitely didn't hate Ciri. He might not love her, but he had an obsession, a crush or even a desire for her. Although Ciri's feelings were more obvious in this relationship, he was internally more dependent on Ciri's company. The pain of being alone all the time was doubled by the loss of the long-lasting companionship he had gained before, and he actually need her more.

It was only when he had developed a fondness for Ciri that he could finally understand what his Lara once thought, that he could say goodbye to the past and reconcile himself with his fate. When he tried to control the Grail(Ciri), it abandoned him; when he was willing to let go, it flew back to him of its own accord. This relationship is also a kind of character growth for him and this theme is also in keeping with the original "There is always something more than fate".

#the witcher 3 #avallac'h #ciri #cirillach #cirillac'h #ciri x avallac'h #狐燕

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havenoffandoms · 4 years ago

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hi it's me again!! can you do "“I can’t believe I’m sitting in a dungeon with you of all people.” with geralt and reader? tysm i love ur writing so much

I can’t express just how happy I am that you’re requesting all these prompts! <3 This is not me procrastinating, and writing out these requests instead of my WIPs, or you know, actual uni work. This fill is a bit longer, just because I got inspired! I started this prompt thinking it would turn out funny and light-hearted, but my brain took a different turn. The second prompt you requested will be nothing but softness.

Prompt: “I can’t believe I’m sitting in a dungeon with you of all people.”

Warnings: This is on the angsty side, considered yourselves warned.

Tumblr Request Masterlist “I can’t believe I’m sitting in a dungeon with you of all people,” you declare, rather dramatically, while glaring at your cell companion. Jaskier offers a sheepish smile in return, then startles when he feels something quick and furry brush past his wrist.

“Oh, don’t be like that, Y/N. Besides, Geralt is probably already on his way to save us, you know just how much our dear witcher likes to play the part of the knight in shining armour.”

You pull your knees closer to your chest and shoo away the stray rats nibbling at the sole of your shoes. You want to believe Jaskier’s words, you really do, but you’ve been stuck in this cell for… how long has it been, anyway? It’s hard to tell without any windows, making it impossible to assess with certainty what time of day it is. It’s been too long regardless, especially when you and Jaskier didn’t do anything that would justify throwing you in a cell, your only crime being your association with Geralt of Rivia.

Your heart tightens at the thought. Whatever information these men wish to pull out of you, you decide that you’ll rather die than reveal anything about Geralt. And you know that Jaskier feels the same way about his long-time friend.

“I don’t know, Jaskier. What if… what if he doesn’t?”

“Now, now. None of that.” Jaskier moves until his arm is pressed against yours and he’s able to grab a hold of your hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “If there’s anything I know for certain about my dear friend Geralt, it’s that he would never, ever, leave his friends stranded.”

“What if he doesn’t know that we’re in this cell?” you insist, your voice trembling with barely restrained panic, “what if he decides that we’re not worth the trouble? He needs to protect Ciri, so he might not come, and these men could ki-”

“Hey, Y/N, look at me,” Jaskier urges you to face him by tugging at your hand. You can’t hide the tears welling up in your eyes as you let fear take over. Jaskier offers a reassuring smile, despite the current circumstances, and you take comfort in the familiarity of his presence. “Breathe, alright? Panicking won’t help us. Have a little faith. Geralt cares about us. He cares about you. He’ll come, don’t worry.”

Jaskier rests his forehead against yours affectionately, and for the briefest of moments, you allow yourself to believe that Geralt will indeed come and save the day.

___________

You’re suddenly jostled awake when you hear commotion just outside your and Jaskier’s cell. The bard is still pressed against you, though this time he looks a lot less confident than he did earlier when he was comforting you. You hear a loud crash, the sound of steel clashing against steel, then a pained scream followed by muffled gurgling. Something big and heavy crashes against your cell door, causing it to rattle precariously in its hinges. You hide your face in Jaskier’s chest and feel pull you closer to him, trying to protect you from whatever is happening outside despite the fact that he’s clearly as terrified as you are. The commotion goes on for another short couple of minutes which feel like hours to you and Jaskier. Finally, you hear the familiar sound of a sword being sheathed before someone unlocks your cell door. You don’t dare look up from the relative safety of Jaskier’s embrace, pinching your eyes shut as you expect the worst.

“Geralt, my friend!” Jaskier lets out a startled laugh, ringing bright with mirth and evident relief at the sight of their saviour. He gently pulls you away from him, forcing you to look at him. “I told you, Y/N. I told you he’d come for us.”

“Y/N,” you hear the rough baritone of Geralt’s voice call out for you, though there is an urgency in his tone that you’re not used to from him. You eventually peel away from Jaskier and turn to face Geralt. He’s covered in blood - though most of it probably not his own, you remind yourself to keep yourself from spiralling. You barely bite back a startled yelp when you take in the sight of his face; his eyes are still mostly black, a side-effect from the witcher potions he likely consumed before stepping into the dungeon to your and Jaskier’s rescue, and the dark sinewy veins contrast against his far too pale skin.

“Geralt? You… you came,” you breathe out, your tone halfway between reverend and horrified, “I… I’m sorry you had to… I’m sorry…”

You don’t notice the tears trailing down your cheeks until you hear Geralt’s sharp intake of breath. In the blink of an eye, thanks to the superhuman speed the potions grant him, he’s kneeling by your side, cupping your face in his hands and thumbing away the fresh wave of relieved tears. A sob pushes past your lips when you finally collapse against Geralt, the firmness of his chest as familiar as the sound of his voice by now. Your witcher pulls you impossibly closer and wraps you up in a tight embrace, whispering sweet reassuring nothings into your ear.

“Don’t be sorry, dove. I’m here, you’re safe. Not goin’ anywhere, either. Shh, you’re alright…”

“I hate to ruin this heartfelt reunion,” Jaskier’s soft voice suddenly interrupts the moment, and you can sense the underlying urgency in his tone, “truly, this has the potential to become my next big hit, but we really should be getting out of here. It won’t be long before reinforcement comes our way…”

“Jaskier’s right,” Geralt rises to his feet and pulls you up despite your yelp of protest, “are either of you hurt?”

“No,” you manage to answer before wiping the last of your tears, willing yourself to keep it together a little while longer, “let’s go, the quicker we’re out of here the better.”

__________

You’re exhausted by the time you reach camp. Jaskier is happily chatting away about his newest ballad, like he and you did not just spend the gods know how long in a prison cell. You don’t understand how the bard does, how he manages to pretend like nothing happened when you’re still twitchy and trembling. Geralt ignores Jaskier’s ranting for the most part, too focused on making sure you’re fine. He helps you dismount Roach by offering his hand for support, though when you slide off the saddle, you all but slump limply into his arms.

“Talk to me, dove,” he whispers to you, low enough so as to not draw Jaskier’s attention, “are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“Yes, Geralt.” You offer what you hope is a reassuring smile, but judging by the frown your efforts are met with, you’re unable to convince your love, “I’m just tired. And still a bit shaken.”

“I’ll get a fire going. Sit down, have a rest.”

“Oh, and by the way, Geralt,” Jaskier saunters over to where you and Geralt are standing, “you’ll have to tell me how you managed to bypass all these guards, and don’t be stingy on the details.”

“Not now, Jaskier,” Geralt grouses, still not letting go of you, “if you want to show your gratitude, get a fire going.”

Jaskier shoots you a concerned look, but he thankfully doesn’t press you as he goes to do as Geralt requested. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as you sink deeper into Geralt’s embrace. You let his familiar scent wash over you in calming waves as he gently drags you down to his bedroll. You vaguely feel Geralt pull away from you and wrap a warm blanket around your shoulders, tucking you in snugly before pulling you to him once again. Your eyes flutter shut as you finally allow yourself to come down from your high.

“I was so worried about you,” you hear Geralt mumble against your hair, before pressing a firm kiss to the crown of your head, “thought I’d gotten there too late to save you.”

“You didn’t. You saved us, and that’s what matters.” You crane your neck as much as you’re able to capture Geralt’s lips in a tender kiss. “I’m just glad you came when you did.”

“As am I, dove.”

This time, the smile you flash him reflects nothing but genuine love and gratitude. You fall asleep in his arms, confident that he’ll watch over you and keep you safe.

#geralt z rivii #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x y/n #geralt x you #the witcher x reader #the witcher x y/n #the witcher x you #prompt fill #havenwrites

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planetesastraea · 4 years ago

Text

On the tip of his fingers

Geraskier, Modern AU - Mature - 6 277 words - Warnings: none

First meetings, himbo Geralt, bisexual Geralt (even if he’s just finding out), bottom Geralt (that too), top Jaskier, first time, handjobs, banter, praise kink, consent kink

Betaed by Micaela Dawn: she’s a wonderful artist and beta, check out her work!

Read on AO3

The bar was oddly crowded for a Wednesday night and Geralt was trying his best to not look as out of place as he felt. He had to be there, were Yen's words. And once Triss and Sabrina heard he was trying to get out of the team’s celebratory night out, his fate had been sealed.

"You deserve this too," Yen had said. “You’ve been working your ass off as much as we’ve all been and you deserve to blow off some steam.”

“I can blow off some steam at home.”

“Playing Skittles-stake Gwent with our teenage daughter doesn’t count. Also you promised you’d spend more time with the team outside of work-”

“I actually never agreed to that,”

“-so you’re coming.”

And so here he was, wearing one of his black button down shirts and a comfortable pair of jeans with an empty beer bottle in his hand, making casual conversation over the slightly too-loud music and praying to the highest powers that the girls wouldn’t try to get him to dance. Triss and Yen had met him in front of the bar to make sure he wouldn’t turn away once he had a look inside the place. As soon as he had been close enough, Triss had reached a hand out to his collar, making a tsk sound.

“What are we going to do with you, hm?”, she had whispered to herself as she had opened the top two buttons of his shirt and pulled his collar a little wider.

“Hey, be gentle,” Yen had cut in softly. “At least he lost the tie.”

They had cackled in unison as he rolled his eyes, yet unable to fake annoyance as a smile drew itself on his lips. With one of the women clinging to each of his arms, the three of them comfortably slid together as they walked into the place.

He liked being around them. Over the years things had been several levels of complicated and then some, but the three of them had found their pace eventually. Triss and Yen liked to mock him and he liked to act dumber than he actually was- well, most of the time. His social skills still didn’t reach that high.

As it turned out, you could learn a lot about people by staying at the office several nights in a row working a gigantic case, taking turns on who would get to doze off for twelve minutes on the couch and who was to blame for the soy sauce on page 86 of the Claremont contract. And damn did Triss and Yen know him well. Which was why they had dutifully waited for him outside the bar. Claiming he looked for them but gave up because of how packed the place was would definitely have been among his top three excuses to go back home and relieve Eskel of his Uncle duties. (Both he and Ciri would have been terribly disappointed and that was about 75% of the reasons why he had made it to the party).

They had been here for a couple of hours now, had done a good amount of talking and heard some more-than-other alright bands take to the stage. One of the junior associates further away from him called “Hey, here’s Sabrina!!” and Geralt turned towards the sound of Sabrina’s voice going “You guys are not going to believe this!” when something, or, well, someone, slammed right into him.

“Owww, holy shit I’m so sorry, you alright?”

The man was carrying two pints that had probably been full to the brim before he collided with Geralt. Luckily most of what spilled had hit the floor (he didn't need a repeat of the 2017 "Wet-Shirt Contest Winner" from when a sink pipe had blown up in the men's room. Lambert had walked in, taken a thousand pictures and emailed memes to the whole floor for weeks).

Geralt’s shoes had been fairly sticky with booze already so it wasn't much trouble.

“I’m fine,” he said and that’s when he noticed the other man had come to a full stop, eyes locked on him intently, lips slightly parted. The eyeliner around his eyes was a bit smeared and Geralt recognized him as one of the singers from earlier.

“That you are,” he murmured in a low tone, almost to himself. Geralt blinked.

“Yes. I am,” he said back louder in hope to maybe clear out the odd look on the other man’s face. Just because he was tall, well-built and, well, apparently, somewhat broody, people expected him to get pissed at the slightest things.

“I’m Julian," the guy said and Geralt smiled politely, unsure why the stranger would introduce himself.

“Geralt,” he replied at the same time Julian went “But you can call me Jaskier!” and then “I’m sorry, what was that?”

It was like his words were running faster than his thoughts.

“Geralt. My name is Geralt,” he repeated.

“Oh. Nice to meet you, Geralt.” Jaskier’s lips rose to one side and he tilted his head slightly. Geralt was way more used to people trying to avoid looking at him, he had his unusual colored eyes to thank for that. They were easily disturbing and while people didn't always show discomfort, they at least showed restraint. Jaskier didn't have an ounce of it and Geralt had absolutely no idea what to do with that.

“Can I get you another drink?” Jaskier blurted out.

“Mine was already empty. That’s your drink on the floor,” Geralt replied as the other man chuckled, eyes looking down briefly.

“Right,” he raised his eyes and licked his lips. “Offer still stands. Can I get you another drink?”

“Hm,” Geralt said, his well-known wording skills kicking in. “My friends are-” he turned around thinking he’d find Anica and Tiff where he had left them only to realise they had disappeared among the crowd. In the far back he recognized Triss and Yen dancing on a table like nothing in the world could stop them and any back-up plan he was about to use evaporated.

Jaskier raised his eyebrows, eyes twinkling. Give other people a chance, Yen’s voice said in Geralt's head and the line of his shoulders softened. Jaskier’s eyes hadn’t moved from him for even a second. Maybe it wasn’t that bad.

“Sure,” Geralt aimed for a neutral tone but sounded nervous even to his own ears. The other man’s smile widened.

They found two empty stools that felt oddly closer than those in Geralt’s bars usually were - but then again most of Geralt’s bars were hotel lobbies on work trips or the kind where he could take a whole bottle for himself and sit in a corner where no one would dare bother him. (He hadn't been in one of those in a while. He didn’t miss it.)

Jaskier set an ale in front of him and Geralt faintly wondered who it was originally destined for.

“So what are you doing here tonight? I’ve never seen you around,” Jaskier started.

“Celebrating,” he said, in a voice that hardly sounded celebratory.

“Is it your birthday?”

“No,” he replied, vaguely gesturing to his group of friends who were lost to the crowd, “with colleagues. We closed in on a deal."

"What kind of business do you work in?" The other man seemed way more interested in learning about Geralt than actually drinking the ale. Geralt shrugged, a wordless version of his usual ‘hm’.

“All of them. We're a law firm.”

“Oh! Well, congrats by the way!" Jaskier said and then leaned in and using a secretive tone he added, "I mean, you didn’t help a dangerous criminal get away with it, did you?”

Geralt grimaced and prepared himself to lose Jaskier’s interest in his job entirely.

“Not that kind of lawyers.”

“What kind, then?”

“Corporate.”

To his surprise, Jaskier kept nodding.

“So what was the deal about? Please tell me you’re the kind of firm on David’s side and not on Goliath's.”

“It’s rarely as straightforward as that,” Geralt mused and took a drink of his ale.

Jaskier hummed softly.

“What was this one anyway?”

“I can’t disclose any details,” he hedged and Jaskier chuckled.

“Oh, you can’t disclose any details, can you?” he leaned again, this time his arm and shoulder pressing against Geralt's.

“No, I can’t,” Geralt articulated again to make sure Jaskier would hear him. Music rarely ever left anyone’s hearing intact after a few years, maybe that was why the man kept leaning closer.

“Anything I’ll hear about on the news?”

“The local ones, maybe.”

“Well aren't you a man of mystery.” Their shoulders bumped again. Geralt didn't remember at which point he had rolled up his sleeves but his forearms felt oddly comfortable being that close to someone else's skin. It had been a while since he had even given thought to someone else's skin.

There was still a band playing on the stage out of his sight, a crowd surrounding them, people all along the bar calling for the bartender’s attention, noises and lights everywhere and yet, somehow, in the ocean of stimuli, his attention was focused on Jaskier.

"Maybe I should take your number then?" Jaskier said, wriggling an eyebrow. "As legal counsel. For when law enforcement catches up with me."

“What would they catch you for?” he asked, willing to take the bait.

“Oh, there’s quite the list,” Jaskier said. “I’m afraid I have a rather criminal past. There’s the illegal bus riding, parking in client-only spots,” he counted on his fingers, adding each theatrically. “I once shook a vending machine to get my chocolate bar and got a second one I didn’t pay for.”

“Hmm. I think you might get away with those,” Geralt answered, taking a drink from his pint.

“Well I guess all is left is the case of indecent exposure.”

The man had a nonchalant demeanor about him but his eyes were focused on Geralt and definitely didn't miss the way he almost choked on the ale. Geralt only then realised how much of Jaskier’s chest was visible. He registered vaguely how he’d never had an interest in other people’s collar bones before and realised he had forgotten where they were going with this.

"Hmm,” he cleared his throat, trying to look unbothered. “Like I said, not my area of expertise."

He saw Jaskier lick his lips and something in his eyes reminded him of the decisive moment that came with all his negotiations.

"How about we get out of here and you show me your area of expertise?"

"What?" He couldn’t have heard that right. Jaskier’s eyes softened and his hand hovered over his bare forearm.

"I'm saying I want to take you home.” There was a beat and Geralt swallowed, the taste of ale still on his lips. His conversations with other people definitely didn’t go like that. The peak of panic might have been obvious on his face because Jaskier’s fingers touched his wrist and he spoke into his ear. "I'm making a move on you, Geralt,” he said kindly, “and I don’t know if you’re too polite to decline or if I’m being too subtle-” he pulled back to look at him and his face was so fucking close. “Which, honestly, would be a first! So... What do you think?”

What did he think? His mind was an uninhabited fish tank. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a light flicker. He blinked again, looking at Jaskier’s lips. His brain whispered pretty, and right then, because life always loved fucking with him, the lights and the music went out.

There was a deafening silence for a moment when everyone held their breath and then lights as bright as day came on. The crowd booed. "Oh for fuck's sake, it's the third time this month," Jaskier grumbled. “Sorry my dear but duty calls!”

He stepped down from his stool only to hoist himself up onto the bar. "Not to worry, gentlepeople!" he called out like he was standing on a stage rather than a drink-sticky counter. "The lights will go down and the music back on again as soon as our beloved Essi, Mistress of the house, puts that freaking generator back on! And in the meantime, if you would please allow this humble bard to entertain you,” he took a dramatic bow and rose up again. “Someone please toss me a folk guitar; drinks are on me!"

The crowd cheered and Jaskier got down behind the bar as one of the crew members passed over the guitar. He went off in a cheery song some people started singing along to, bathing in the crowd's energy like he breathed that very element.

Something funny and complicated was happening in Geralt's chest when a hand gently grabbed his arm.

"Come on, let's go!" Yen. "It was getting boring anyway!"

Geralt squinted at her.

"You were dancing on a table,"

"Yeah, exactly!"

It didn’t make the slightest sense but most of his conversations with Yen ended with her radiating with knowledge and him feeling stupid anyway.

"I was talking with someone," he said and instantly felt like a small child very proud to say he made a friend.

"You were what?" her voice pitched up and Geralt could tell she was a bit on the tipsy side. "Where are they?"

He looked around and back towards the other side of the bar where Jaskier was singing and playing among the crowd, flawlessly winking and flirting with every person around.

"You're right,” his voice sounded strained even to his own ears and he had to blame it on the sleepless nights. “Let's go."

It had been two weeks since they had secured the Jackdows contract and Geralt was still deep in paperwork. He'd taken yet another two-hour video call with Alveaenerle and he was starting to think that maybe Triss was right and the woman was mostly dealing with him for his looks rather than for the sake of legal liaison.

He heard the elevator doors open and checked the clock. It wouldn’t be the first time he had worked through the whole night, only noticing at 4am when the janitor came in that he had forgotten to go home. Since then, he had promised Ciri he would try to get decent amounts of sleep while she was away at Yen’s and he didn’t like breaking his promises.

When he looked through the glass wall of his shared office, however, he didn’t see the janitor. Instead, and he checked twice in case it might have been a case of insomnia-induced hallucination, Jaskier was standing in the hall. He seemed hesitant, looking right and left for any indication that he was in the right place until he saw Geralt through the office’s glass walls.

They blinked at each other, seemingly unable to move until Jaskier slowly raised a hand and waved. Geralt kicked himself and walked out of his office.

“Hey,” Jaskier said, looking a bit sheepish. "Remember me?"

“What are you doing here?” Geralt asked, straightforward as ever.

“Uh,” Jaskier said. “The security guy let me in. He must have thought I was a delivery boy or something. I uh, I got your favourite,” he raised a hand holding a paper bag that Geralt had been too distracted to notice. “From across the street? Oh! Your friend Tiff was at the bar. She said you were still at work so I thought you’d like to have dinner maybe? And like, not with me, necessarily, just, you gotta eat right?” His words were starting to run together, and Geralt didn’t see any end in sight. “And so I figured, the place across the street, they had to know your favourite. ‘Big lawyer man with long white hair’ doesn't fit many of their clients' profiles. Anyway, dinner. For you. I could stay too, if you want, I mean I am simply starving-” he emphasized the word and then looked panicked again. “Wait, was that a yes, by the way? You know who I am, right? Otherwise this is going to get so awkward-”

“Jaskier,” Geralt interrupted.

“Yes!" He beamed. "That's me. Jaskier."

“I’m still not sure what you’re doing here.”

Jaskier froze for a moment, losing his shine. “We didn’t get to finish that conversation the other night. I thought that maybe...” Balancing his weight from a feet to another, he looked younger in the office light. He didn't finish his sentence, and looked like he was waiting for Geralt to respond.

“I’m working.”

“Right.”

“I’m at work,” Geralt gestured back at his office.

“Yeah, I know, I just thought- I- You're right, this was a stupid idea. Invasive, even. God what am I doing-” he took a frantic step backwards, and then thrust out the paper bag in some sort of peace offering. “Well, you should have this anyway, I mean- you have to eat, right? I said that already. Did I say that already?” He put the paper bag down on the closest cubicle desk then started walking backwards. “Sorry for,” he gestured vaguely, “showing up like that. Uh. It won’t happen again.”

Jaskier turned around, starting towards the elevators with his hand rubbing the back of his neck, and Geralt thought he heard him swearing under his breath something that sounded very much like ‘such a fucking idiot’.

An uneasy feeling filled Geralt’s chest as he watched Jaskier walk away. He didn’t know what he was doing and he didn’t know what he wanted or why he wanted anything but he knew he didn't want this.

“Jaskier,” he called and felt so very glad no one else was working late on his floor.

“Yeah?” Jaskier turned back instantly, his face lit up by a beacon of hope.

“Do you… Do you do this often?” he asked hesitantly and felt stupid about it as soon as he heard himself. There was a beat of Jaskier looking around at the empty place before he walked back towards Geralt slowly.

“Chasing down a guy I talked to for thirty minutes because I just can’t fucking stop thinking about him? No. No, I don’t. First time, actually.”

Geralt watched the musician, noting the soft, hopeful smile forming at the corner of his lips, the closing and opening of his hands at his sides, and the way the office light was reflecting in Jaskier’s eyes.

“Twenty minutes? I need to wrap something up. Then I’m free. For dinner.” Geralt amended.

Jaskier let go of the breath he had been holding and a full smile slowly graced his face again.

“Sure. Take your time. We can heat up the food at my place.”

If twenty minutes had been a promise, Geralt would have broken it. Ten minutes later, he was done with work for the day and on his way to Jaskier’s.

“So which one are you?" Jaskier asked, leaning over his kitchen counter after discarding the take-away wrappings. "VGB or Morhen?”

“Neither,”

“Oh. I thought you were.”

“Disappointed?”

Jaskier chuckled. “No. Well, a bit, I mean," he raised a shoulder lazily and faked disappointment, "I thought you were one of those big-shot lawyers.”

“I am. I’m just not a name partner.”

"So you're a regular partner then?"

“Just barely."

"Is that a thing?"

"Hmm." Geralt took a whole second to think about it and found himself oddly relaxed with answering the question. “I have a daughter.”

“Oh.” Jaskier’s voice was oddly tight.

“Yen and I have a deal. She leads the boat on the job side, excels and enjoys herself in the career she’s always wanted and worked so hard for. I pull the hours she needs me to but our focus is our daughter.”

“You and Yen.”

“Yes.”

"Wait, like Triss's dancing on tables Yenna?" Jaskier’s eyes were widening in realisation.

"Yes."

"Is she Morhen?"

Geralt shook his head. "Vengerberg."

"And she’s your ex."

"Yes."

“Are you still-”

“Friends, yes.”

Jaskier nodded slowly and seemed to be thinking about something. He put his glass away and leaned against the counter, closer to Geralt. “Do you know what you’re doing here, Geralt?” he asked so low it was almost a whisper.

Geralt couldn’t help but cast a look at his lips. “Not really.”

Jaskier slowly slipped his hand up Geralt’s forearm and the hair at the back of his neck rose.

“I was thinking maybe I could kiss you. Can I kiss you?”

Geralt found himself suddenly very much too out of breath to answer.

"Geralt?"

"Yes."

"Yes, as in you're still with me or yes-"

"Both." Geralt interrupted before he had the chance to change his mind.

Jaskier looked surprised for a second then stood up on his toes to close the small space that was left between them. He pressed his lips against Geralt's; chaste and dry and sweet. When was the last time Geralt had been kissed like that? With care?

Jaskier's lips moved with his and Geralt felt the tip of the other man’s tongue against his lower lip, asking for permission. He granted it without question.

"Geralt?"

Geralt kissed him again and couldn't help the sigh that escaped when Jaskier's teeth grazed against his lips.

"Hmm?"

They shared another kiss.

"Couch?"

And another.

"Sure."

They parted only for the short time it took Jaskier to walk around the kitchen island. He led Geralt to the couch, pushing him slightly backwards to make the man sit so he could straddle his lap. Jaskier’s hips were thinner than those of Geralt’s usual partners. His shoulders were larger, his back more muscled, his arms- his whole body was fucking delightful and yet so very different, so very new.

"Jask?"

A kiss.

"Yeah?" It was more of a sigh of pleasure against his lips than a whisper.

"Remember when you asked-" Fuck, it was good. "About my-"

"Sorry, do you need me to stop?"

Something rumbled in Geralt’s chest, his voice almost a growl.

"No."

His hand found the back of Jaskier's neck and they sort of crashed again into each other. They kissed and kissed again and Geralt just didn't want to stop but things had to be said.

"Expertise," he finally managed.

"What?" Jaskier let go of his mouth and came back again for a peck before he sat back on his ankles to look at Geralt. His lips were red, his hair in disarray, his hand still hot on the side of Geralt’s neck. Geralt was fucked.

"Expertise," Geralt said, sitting up a bit straighter, settling his hands on Jaskier’s hips. "The other night. You asked about my area of expertise."

"Uh. Right."

Jaskier had a look on his face like someone had just interrupted his hot make-out session to talk about corporate law. Geralt would know, that had happened to him more times than he would admit.

"This isn't it."

"What?" Jaskier looked bewildered. His face was an open book of unguarded emotions and it made Geralt want to kiss him even more.

"My area of expertise. This isn’t it."

"Oh." Jaskier answered, distracted by a strand of hair that fell over Geralt's eyes. He plucked the strand up between deft fingers and tucked it behind Geralt’s ear. Then he blinked and backtracked. "Wait, kissing?"

"Men," Geralt said. "Men aren't my areas of expertise."

"Oh,” Jaskier said. His hand was suspended in the air behind Geralt’s ear. “Okay, you- Oh. Okay.” he whispered again, his hand dropping down to Geralt’s shoulder.

Geralt wasn't sure why Jaskier was the one blushing.

Sexual orientation had never really been a topic of conversation for Geralt growing up. Emotions were already a complex enough subject to tackle, anything that went further than caring for his brothers was not recommended. Exploration was limited. As a young man, he had gone for what society told him were the easiest ways to get sexual release when he needed it (women) and then his life tangled with Yen's and other partners faded out from the realm of his interests. When Ciri had entered their life, his very own life had taken a whole new meaning. There was little that mattered except making his daughter happy. His own personal relationships were more of an afterthought.

"Well," Jaskier started again. "We don't have to- I mean it's okay. It's good. It's all good, darling. Do you- Do you need a breather? Do you- do you even want to be here?"

"I followed you willingly, didn't I?" Geralt asked, raising an eyebrow. Jaskier chuckled.

“It’s just- What if I mess up and deter you from ever enjoying another penis ever again?" he exaggerated, the dramatic flair evident in every line of his body. Geralt snorted.

"Hey! I have a duty to the penis community and I take it very seriously," Jaskier continued as if Geralt hadn’t brushed the thought off.

"The penis community," Geralt repeated, fake awe dripping in his voice.

"The penis kingdom, actually."

"The penis continent." Geraly offered, helpfully.

"Oh, that reminds me, talking about dicks: Nilfgaard, yay or nay?"

"Argh, shut up," he grabbed Jaskier's face unceremoniously and Jaskier laughed in the kiss. His hand brushed Geralt’s cheek and everything about him seemed to slow down. Jaskier broke apart from him, a smile still on his lips, and looked at Geralt steadily like any doubt and hesitation were forgotten.

"Just tell me what you like, darling,” he said.

"I like kissing you.”

"That’s a good start," he replied and granted Geralt’s request.

Jaskier lay his hands on Geralt’s shoulders and the muscles melted under the soft weight of them. He raised onto his knees and pushed Geralt back into the couch. Jaskier was slightly taller kneeling over him, and Geralt found something delightful in having to look up at someone.

Jaskier leaned in and caught Geralt’s lips between his. His kisses were softer, slower, deeper than a minute before. Like he was taking his time to enjoy every second, to make Geralt enjoy every second. One of Geralt’s hands moved from his hip to his lower back, inviting him closer, and Jaskier slid his hands around Geralt’s neck, arching slightly into the touch. There was an intimacy about it that Geralt hadn’t expected nor experienced in a long time.

Jaskier pressed his forehead against his at every breath, his hands caressing Geralt’s cheeks, sliding into Geralt’s hair, slowly making him shiver.

Jaskier’s arms were distracting. The shirt he’d been wearing on that evening at the bar hadn't given away any clue as to the gems that were hidden underneath those sleeves. There was something feral lying deep in Geralt’s belly that was definitely ready to be manhandled.

Geralt found himself sliding his hand under Jaskier’s shirt, feeling the hot skin under his fingers, tracing the muscles along his spine.

Jaskier quickly got the message and took his shirt off between breathless kisses. He started tugging at the buttons of Geralt's shirt while Geralt’s hands made themselves at home on every inch of skin they could find. He felt goosebumps form on Jaskier’s skin and used the distraction to start laying kisses on his neck, licking and sucking the skin and taking note of the softest noises Jaskier made. The tip of his fingers slid down the hairs of Jaskier’s chest as he nibbled the man’s collarbone, and found one of his nipples on the way. Geralt caressed it tentatively and felt the shiver that went through Jaskier’s whole body when he did. Jaskier’s fingers pulled abruptly at his shirt.

“Oh god, take your goddamn shirt off, please!” The request was more of a thready gasp than an actual sentence. Geralt laughed at his enthusiasm and finished unbuttoning his shirt.

“Is this okay?” Jaskier asked as he slid the shirt off Geralt’s shoulders. Geralt hummed approvingly and raised his arms when Jaskier grabbed his undershirt. They kept kissing until he felt Jaskier’s hands slowing down, tensing slightly against his chest until they were barely just touching him. He saw the look on Jaskier’s face when he parted from him and realised why he had stopped. Jaskier’s eyes were fixated on his torso, fingers hovering over one of his many scars.

“I can put the shirt back on if you want,” he offered and Jaskier’s eyes jumped back to his face.

“What? No, darling, no,” he rushed and grabbed Geralt’s face kindly, kissing him again. “I was just surprised. Is this okay? Can I- can I touch you?”

“Yeah. Of course you can,” he kissed Jaskier softly. “They haven’t hurt in a long time.”

“Can I ask- I know this isn’t the best of times but-" he bit his lip with hesitation. "Did someone do this to you?”

“Not one person in particular,” Geralt shrugged it off.

“Geralt,” Jaskier’s brow furrowed.

“Don’t worry about it,” he brushed his nose against Jaskier’s. “It’s in the past.”

"Okay," Jaskier whispered and then, trying to lighten the mood he added, "was it, like, your secret service past?"

"I am not at liberty to say."

Jaskier snorted.

“Just tell me you’re not in a fight club.”

“In a what?” Geralt asked, frowning.

“A fight club.”

“I don’t know what that is,” he said, seemingly clueless.

“You know, a fi- oh, you ass!” Jaskier yelped, slapping him lightly on the pec and Geralt laughed, grabbing the back of Jaskier's thighs right below his bottom to make him slip even further into his lap.

“How would you like to take care of my ass?”

Jaskier almost choked on his own breath and turned an even deeper shade of red.

"Are you- do you mean literally?"

"I'm not a blushing virgin, Jaskier,” Geralt said matter-of-factly.

"I know, I just mean- well if you've never- I mean are you sure you want to? With me?"

It was a sensible question but Geralt didn't want to think about it for too long. Thinking would mean trying to make sense of things -feelings, desires. It would lead to labelling and wanting to belong and- he just hated words. Words had a tendency to make things real and unmovable. Actions were so, so much better.

"You're the one who knows what he's doing, here,” Geralt said. “I'd rather it be you doing the work."

"Uh," Jaskier said thoughtfully. He probably had a PhD in literature or something based on the improbable number of books and manuscripts lying around in his flat. Geralt had even seen a couple ones in the cereal cupboard which was apparently where Jaskier’s glasses went.

"Alright then. Just. Tell me if something is not working for you, alright?"

"I will. Now can we get back to business?"

"To defeat-"

"If you start singing right now I am getting out of here," he grabbed a handful of the musician’s ass.

"Oi!!" Jaskier complained in the fakest way possible. "Wait, hold on, does that mean you've seen Disney movies- what's your favourite one?"

Geralt raised yet another very serious eyebrow.

"Do you often discuss topics that make people think about their kids when they're trying to bed you-"

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry," Jaskier laughed and hid his face in Geralt's neck, full of shame. "How much do you hate me right now?" he muffled.

"Hmm," Geralt pondered, slowly sliding his fingers up Jaskier's spine. "You should probably find a way to make me forget about it."

"Hmm," Jaskier imitated, kissing the side of Geralt's neck and slowly making his way up to the man’s ear. "What if I took your pants off?" he whispered.

"Could be a start," Geralt admitted.

"What if we moved to my bed?"

"I was beginning to wonder if you had one of those."

"I can still fuck you over the kitchen counter if you're disappointed."

Geralt’s pupils dilated as he pictured himself bent over the piece of furniture, holding onto whatever he could while Jaskier pounded him restlessly.

"Bed. Now."

Geralt only got a quick look at the room (more books, more notebooks, cord instruments of all sorts and sizes) before Jaskier grabbed him by the belt and pushed him onto the bed. He followed quickly, straddling him and kissing him senseless until Geralt’s head hit the mattress.

"Can I t-" Jaskier started and Geralt tried to sit up, cutting him off with a kiss. He reached for his own belt, planning on taking his trousers off before Jaskier pressed against his shoulders and made him lie down again. He slid his fingers between Geralt’s, caressing his knuckles softly.

"Oh please, give me the honor."

Geralt almost growled with impatience and reached a hand out between Jaskier's legs, palming him through his jeans.

"Oh sweet Edith Eleanor Diana Poulton, you are not playing."

He got Geralt’s belt out of the way and undid his trousers. Geralt’s underwear followed halfway when Jaskier took the trousers off, leaving his ass bare on the sheets and the hem of his briefs so low on his hips it was practically at the base of his cock. He tried taking his briefs off entirely, feeling silly and oddly vulnerable being halfway undressed but Jaskier batted his hands off and kissed him again. He slid a hand through Geralt’s pubic hair and slowly, incredibly slowly, down, and after what felt like a thousand years, finally closed his hand around Geralt’s cock and pulled.

Geralt pushed the back of his head into the mattress and closed his eyes as if he was at risk of losing sight if he left them open. Jaskier kissed him through the first moan of pleasure and quickly was all over him. Jaskier was kissing and licking and touching and stroking and Geralt was having quite a hard time trying to do much more than let his hand grab onto Jaskier’s hair and do his best not to sound too desperate. He was absolutely failing.

“Is this good, darling?” Jaskier whispered, kissing his neck up to his jaw and softly biting the skin there as his hand kept stroking him.

"Hmm," was all Geralt could manage and he felt Jaskier smile against his skin.

"Tell me?"

"Ah,” Geralt’s hands were moving somewhat erratically, trying to hold onto any part of Jaskier that would make him feel anchored and not as if he was going to lose his mind before he got the man’s socks off. “Yes."

"You're so good darling,” Jaskier’s kindness, Geralt vaguely decided, was fucking obscene. “You're doing so good."

Geralt felt himself blush, having no idea how any blood could flow to his face since he was pretty sure all of it was rushing to his dick. He wasn't going to last long at this rate.

"I want- I want to touch you too."

Jaskier let him open his jeans and moaned into his mouth when Geralt finally got his hand into his underwear.

“Jaskier,” he warned and Jaskier slowed down the working of his own hands.

“You alright, love?” he whispered, voice broken with pleasure.

Instead of an answer, Geralt sat up and pulled Jaskier's trousers to get his point across. Jaskier took his hands off him - the loss was fucking unbearable - to finally get rid of all remaining items of clothing and pressed himself against Geralt again, his hand on his neck. Geralt immediately got his arms around his middle to cradle him closer. Jaskier rocked slightly against him, their cocks pressing against each other and Geralt couldn't help but get a hand on both of them.

"Show me?" he croaked hoarsely and silently prayed that Jaskier wouldn’t make him beg for it because he definitely would. Instead Jaskier joined their hands together and guided him, pressing on Geralt's fingers to make him hold his cock tighter, moaning when Geralt's wrist angled exactly how he liked it.

"Oh god, yes. You're so good to me, love," he moaned.

It felt like forever and it felt like a blink. They rocked and they kissed and they moaned and Jaskier kept breathing sweet nonsense into his neck, praises into his ear, about how good he was and how good he felt and how well Jaskier would take care of him and how much he wanted to make him moan through the night but in the end, what got him over the edge was Jaskier digging his fingers onto the soft flesh of his ass, sliding in to brush against Geralt’s hole, and absolutely, definitely had nothing to do with Jaskier crying out, “Oh love, you’re beautiful!”

Geralt lost a few seconds or maybe a minute or five over which Jaskier had apparently come all over his stomach too. Jaskier was catching his breath, lying with his forehead against Geralt’s chest, trying his best not to lay all his weight over him. Geralt found the back of Jaskier’s neck, his fingers going up through his hair and drawing a comfortable groan from him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, pushing on his arm to lie a few centimeters away, his head propped over Geralt’s shoulder, their legs still intertwined together. Jaskier’s arm stretched over Geralt’s middle and the tingly waves of left-over pleasure washed over them both with every breath, content tiredness slowly taking over.

A few minutes later Geralt extracted himself from Jaskier’s grasp, not without some difficulty, and convinced himself to clean up. Washing his hands in front of the bathroom mirror, Geralt looked back at Jaskier’s face hovering over his shoulder as Jaskier pressed his chest against his back. Eyes closed, Jaskier asked: “D’you want to stay?”

Vaguely wondering about the last time he felt as comfortable as this with someone and then pushing the thought away, Geralt’s eyes lowered, looking at Jaskier’s arms settled around his body.

He felt Jaskier’s lips move into a loopy smile against his skin when he answered:

“Hmm.”

#geraskier #geraskier fic #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #my writing #no warnings #geralt of rivia is a little dense and jaskier is very very pretty #mine: geraskier #mine: no warning #mine: himbo geralt #mine: modern au #mine: mature #mine: of fingers tongues and toes series

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regrettablewritings · 5 years ago

Note

If it’s okay. Can I please request some LOVE headcanons with Jaskier, if it hasn’t already been requested?

Dang . . . We almost got an entire set here with Jaskier 👀

Who said “I love you” first?: You know it was Jaskier. Not only because you’d spent the entire time leading up to that point desperately trying to stifle your newly-found affections, but also because everybody knows that the loudest mouth on the continent has to have the first word. However, given that it’s Jaskier, you don’t buy it at first. For one, the man throws the word “love” around as, well, a bard throws around cheesy prose. Who’s to say that his dramatic gesture of spreading his arms wide and crying out gloriously, “Dear (Y/N)! I have determined that you! Are! The! One!!” wasn’t just another show for him? For another, as much as a part of you wanted to believe otherwise, a much larger part just couldn’t believe the possibility that someone like Jaskier could like someone like you romantically -- in whatever way “someone like Jaskier” could be taken. You initial reluctance to accept the bard’s confession left him a husk of a man, pouting and frustrated as he ranted to Geralt in the secrecy of a rented room at a tavern. All the while, the latter could only bluntly state that it’s Jaskier’s fault for having taken everything without much seriousness to it. His actions got him into this mess, he surely couldn’t expect for them to get him out of it. So he had to go the other way about it. You were very concerned when Jaskier got quiet. He’d already been acting strange for the last while or so, fumbling over his words and even struggling to babble on whimsically to jostle up songs. You had half a mind to assume that the poor fool might’ve been falling sick! But when he insisted he wasn’t, and that you still accompany him to the small plot of gardening land beside the tavern, your curiosity led you to oblige. You simply had to see where this was going. Hopefully to an explanation as to why he’d been acting so funny lately. In hindsight, the silly boy had probably scoped the area to find the most romantic spot. Admittedly, there’s not so many romantic associations one might have with raspberries, but there was a rock large enough to sit upon nearby where they were growing, which Jaskier apparently decided would have to do. It wasn’t a bench or a charmingly rustic fountain, but he still took it upon himself to treat it as though it were just as special. You wordlessly (if confusedly) followed suit, perching yourself on it per his request. Though, the temptation to leap right off of it struck the moment he took your hand into his own and locked eyes with you. You’d never heard Jaskier speak so calmly, so seriously, yet without a hint of graveness in it. You waited for him to reveal that it had been a joke, that he was using the moment to harvest some sort of song fodder from your response. But it never came. He just kept kneeling before you, awaiting your response, the hope in his eyes dwindling bit by bit in the moonlight the longer you went without saying anything. “Oh,” he finally spoke. Your heart could’ve shattered with the hint of trembling in that single syllable. “I, um . . . I suppose it is a bit -- it was a poor choice to -- I shouldn’t have -- ” No sentence sounded right to him in his moment of embarrassment. He tried getting back up, unlocking your hand from his, but your reinforced grip gave him pause. You shook your head, your heart beating so hard and fast that it hurt. And yet, the pain of it dulled when in comparison to the relief and bliss you felt.

What are their primary love languages?: Being the attention whore that he is, it would only be suitable that Jaskier reaps love and affection through words of affirmation and quality time. Yeah, he’s also a very sexual being, but he’s an entertainer down to the bone: It’s simply in his nature to desire your attention. When you spent quality time with him and give him praises meant only for him, you simply must be paying attention to him! And even beyond that, it provides the both of you means to communicate and get to know one another. (Well, more than you would already have to, given that you’re on the road all the time.) But for as arrogant as Jaskier is, that bardic nature goes both ways: It’s also in his nature to appraise everything to the highest and most flowery degree, as well as to throw that attentiveness to physical appeal right back at you. He loves being able to be physically close to you in any way that he can, especially sexually. And if he can make sweet and attentive love to you while also (literally) singing your praises? Worshiping your looks and your responses to his ministrations? It’s like he’s died and gone to heaven, a la le petit mort!

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?: Frequently, when the opportunity provides it. Of course, cuddling is difficult to do when one is on the road. And even though the ground isn’t necessarily the most ideal bed for it, being spooned can certainly help alleviate the dread of having to sleep on a floor that could become muddy soon enough. But that doesn’t stop the two of you from engaging in physical forms of affection whenever you can. You’ve never really been one especially for public displays of affection, but something about holding Jaskier’s hand as the two of you trail behind Geralt and Ciri just feels right. His hold is soft and warm, with only trace amounts of callousness due to his constant strumming on the lute. And when the group takes a break, you could think of nothing more refreshing than being able to sit at the base of a large tree and tuck yourself into the crook of your significant other’s arm as the both of you rest in silence, just enjoying the ambience. Sometimes, if you’re in an especially bubbly or affectionate mood, kisses wind up exchanged with no care on if Geralt or the child see you. There’s nothing shameless about giving your beloved a kiss on the cheek or even a quick peck on the lips, is there? Besides, the real shame should fall on Jaskier for always taking it too far by trying to kiss a line up your neck. It just gets taken up to an 11 when you actually have a proper bed to sleep on: The spooning increases, the not so sneaky caresses along the sides make an appearance, and the not-even-trying-to-hide-it attempts at lovingly groping your lovely bits are made because at least now there’s some privacy. And if you’re in the right mood and not too tired from your travels, you don’t mind indulging.

What are their favorite things to do together?: It depends on where the two of you are, but the one consistency is chatting and flinging jokes at one another. Jaskier fancies himself a man of wit so when you prove not to be afraid of playing along or hucking jokes right back at him, he takes it as a game. One of the competing sort. No matter how you may try, that game is going to turn into the two of you trying to make the other laugh or blush with some crude or colorful remarks. (And you can pretend you’re above it all you want, you’re clearly enjoying it.) He also likes how much inspiration your talks can give him, from you recounting the places you’ve seen to the people you’ve encountered (though you insist it’s nowhere near as impressive as he tries to make them sound in song form).

Who’s better at comforting the other?: As observant and intuitive as Jaskier can surprisingly be, this doesn’t always mean that he’s the best at using what he’s learned to calm the situation. If anything, his skittish and overly talkative nature can only drive you further into frustration if he’s not too careful. You know he means well, but Jackie can still be a bit overwhelming if one is already not in the best mood. But when it comes to calming him, you’re one of the best there is. At the very least, you’re able to distract him enough or praise him enough to where he’ll become a little less catty. He may be pouting as he rests his head against your breast, but he’s (not so) secretly eating up the proximity, how your fingers gently card through his hair, how warm your chest feels as it vibrates with your words . . . Words that are, of course, telling him what a talented minstrel he really is, especially compared to that hack of a troubadour, Valdo Marx. The moment you feel him smirking is the moment you know he’s let go of all pretenses of being upset — he’d felt good as new long ago. Still, you let him stay there.

Who’s more protective?: I suppose Jaskier, though the more fitting term would be “possessive.” Jaskier isn’t a very competent fighter (read: He cannot fight at all) so when it comes to physical well-being, he isn’t much good for keeping you any more guarded than however fast you both can run away from the problem. He’s more of a guardian when it comes to the heart or a person’s mental well-being. As embarrassingly idiotic as he can sometimes be, he isn’t so completely unaware as to not notice toxicity in other people. Unfortunately, he’s ironically not very good at vocally communicating this. As a result, he can come across as clingy or annoying. Which he is. But also, he doesn’t want you hurt and has your best interests in mind. Meanwhile, you care plenty for his physical well-being but also know you’re not much of a fighter, either. Besides, Jaskier’s gotten by on the road by himself far longer than you’ve known him -- apparently, he knows how to at least keep his head still attached to his body.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?: Both. As a stereotypical bawdy bard, he loves giving it, and as a humanoid peacock of a man, he loves receiving it. Let him lay his head in your lap while you stroke his hair and tell him what a wonderful performer he is, and how his voice makes you weak and yet empowered with desire --

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?: It may seem a bit rough to apply a song to such a musical man, but quite a few do come to mind: “Sweet Talk” by Saint Motel, “Put Your Money on Me” by The Struts, “Fall in Love” by Bad Rabbits, “Hands” by Barns Courtney . . . Now, if you take the time to listen to these or even look up some of the lyrics, you’ll notice a trend: A man pining for a woman who’s always just ever so slightly out of his reach. Or a man singing his delight for a woman who seems altogether unimpressed or at least hesitant to take a chance on him. Or the girl is just elusive. Which makes perfect sense, given that you’re one to guard her heart when in the face of the minstrel while Jaskier is the one putting his own entirely out there for you. But don’t be dismayed: Jaskier loves a good chase. His type is best defined as “someone he shouldn’t have or must at least bust his ass to acquire”, as one can assume from his interactions with concubines, higher-standing nobility, mothers, warriors, Geralt . . . But if you have a taste for something more optimistic or lighthearted, fear not: There’s always “Easy Way” by For the Foxes or “Undone” by The Bird and the Bee. What makes a song like “Undone” unique, however, is that it’s more for your point-of-view. Your feelings for Jaskier are complex yet so simple. He knows you’re not exactly the best at emoting, much less when it comes to your affections. But sometimes, you think that’s a good thing: If you were even half so brave or careless, the poor man might’ve died from your more frequent desire to kiss him to death (not that he would mind dying in such a pretty way). You can put on a calm expression all you want: Inside, you’re a storm of thoughts. You want to impress him, you want him to think you’re witty and bewitching, you want to be his yet one definite thing, you want to be the one who, well, can make him come undone with just a kiss. And it just takes you aback sometimes to realize that the very man, known for his philandering, already sees no wrong in you, and that he wants nothing more than the very same. With you and only you.

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?: It startled you to learn one day that you’d been calling him a nickname the entire time. In hindsight, yeah, it made sense: “Jaskier” was unusual as a given name. But you had grown so used to it and how it fit him like it was bespoke, that learning his real name was Julian just . . . It felt weird. Still, that didn’t erase the fact that, yes, Jaskier was technically still a nickname for him that you’d been using, knowingly or not. Though, every once in a while you would make an attempt to refer to him as something else: “Baby Eyes”, you realized, had some unusual sticking power to it.It’s normally used in an almost pouty tone, usually to accompany the pouting Jaskier’s already doing when you say it. Not in a taunting manner, but as if to extend sympathy. You hadn’t even meant for the name to keep reappearing but it just rolls off the tongue, especially whenever Jaskier looks at you with those blue eyes, fixed in a puppyish pout. He also seems to respond well to names that suggest his talent or genius, but we would be here all night running through the specifics due to how ridiculously and pointlessly long they are. The length of Jaskier’s names had actually become a bit of a problem even when in reference to you: It’s not really a nickname when your lover wants to refer to you as “Stunning Little Starling of the Northern Sky” or “Darling Daffodil of the Valley” and so on. He’s had to shorten quite a few down to “Starling” or “Darling” or “Daffodil” or “My Muse” or “Exquisite One, Conqueror of My Heart, Goddess of My Sleeping Hours, Patron Saint to My Loins --”.

Thank you for your patience!

#jaskier x reader #jaskier imagines #jaskier imagine #the witcher imagine #the witcher imagines #regrettablewritings #character ship meme #character ship headcanons

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jaskierrrrrr · 5 years ago

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hey gang, remember when I asked for prompts so I could write and *John Mulaney voice* then I didn’t? Well here’s the first one! For @andthencamethefeels, who requested Jaskier and hanahaki disease- (sorry it’s like a month late) I hope you all like it and are keeping safe <3

trigger warnings for emetophobia and vomiting

***

One of the surprising things that Geralt had found out about travelling with Jaskier was that he wasn’t at all squeamish. He’d learnt fairly quickly not to underestimate Jaskier when it came to things like fighting, as the bard was more than capable of fighting with the dagger he kept strapped to his leg, slashing and cutting wildly, all while keeping up a steady stream of curses. He’d even been solely responsible for seeing off a band of mercenaries the other week; too preoccupied with the Witcher and his swords, they’d failed to notice the threat Jaskier posed until he’d shattered a clay pot over the leader’s head. They didn’t stick around for long after that. Despite repeatedly reminding himself not to underestimate Jaskier, the lack of squeamishness really was unexpected. Perhaps because Jaskier often seemed so dainty with his delicately laced shirts and embroidered doublets; even when he had to fight, he did so with a grace and elegance more associated with dancing than swordplay. But Geralt had quickly realised that Jaskier was reliably strong-stomached, when his attempts to hide a particularly gruesome injury that exposed part of his shin bone were completely ignored by Jaskier, who bent over his leg and dealt with the wound as best he could in a calm, swift manner, despite his shaking hands and pale face.

He doesn’t say anything the first time it happens. It had been a fairly pleasant evening; they’d set up camp for the night by a small stream, and Jaskier was idly plucking at his lute while Geralt sharpened his swords to stop himself staring. The abrupt halt of music and a thud as the lute hit the ground made him look up in alarm; Jaskier was usually so careful with his prized instrument, and for a brief moment Geralt thought something had attacked him. Instead, he was greeted with the sight of Jaskier stumbling to his feet, his normally flushed cheeks completely draining of colour as he staggered off into a thicket.

He’s gone for a while, long enough for Geralt to contemplate going to check on him, but just as he’s about to grab his sword, Jaskier reappears, wiping his hand across his mouth. He doesn’t look unwell, but he doesn’t exactly look content either- the lines around his mouth are tighter than usual and there’s a crease between his eyebrows that makes Geralt’s fingers twitch with the urge to smooth it away. He opens his mouth to ask if Jaskier’s alright, but before he can say anything, Jaskier cuts in.

‘I’m fine,’ is all he says.

Geralt knows it’s a lie; he can see the tension in Jaskier’s shoulder blades as he regains his lute and adopts his previous position, before resuming playing with an air of forced casualness. He wants to call Jaskier’s bluff, but something in his tone suggests he’d be unwise to do so. Despite his misgivings, he stays silent, reassuring himself that it’s unlikely to happen again.

Except that it does. Not just once either- the routine becomes worryingly frequent- Jaskier suddenly falls silent, jumps up from whatever he’s doing and disappears, sometimes for up to half an hour, and returns looking pale and haggard, with an expression on his face that Geralt can’t quite place.

He asks him about it. Or at least he tries to- Jaskier’s non committal answers when he asks if he’s okay are enough to rival the Witcher’s own frequent ‘hms.’

His limited responses do little to reassure Geralt. If anything, it’s more concerning; usually Jaskier can’t shut up about his life, whether it’s beamoning the state of his outfit after a particularly sweaty day of travelling or complaining about stiff muscles after a week on the road. Geralt finds himself creating an endless list of possible causes for Jaskier’s sickness, each more concerning than the last, but if he could at least find something that fitted, then he’d know what kind of cure he needed to find.

He pushes down the voice in his head that asks, ‘what if there isn’t one?’

Things come to a head, as they were bound to do. They run into trouble on the road: a particularly vicious pack of harpies that catches them so off-guard they’re forced to find refuge in a narrow-mouthed cave. Geralt uses the last of his strength to pull a boulder across the mouth of the cave- the harpies probably couldn’t reach them anyway, but he’s not taking any chances- when he hears a fervent ‘oh fuck’ over the screams from the beasts.

‘Don’t worry,’ says Geralt through gritted teeth as he gives the boulder a final shove, ‘they’ll probably get bored after a while.’

‘It’s not that,’ Jaskier chokes out, before abruptly doubling over and retching.

Geralt’s eyes widen in shock, but before he can take more than a couple of steps towards the bard, Jaskier throws a hand out behind him.

‘It’s fine,’ he chokes. ‘Stay back.’

But it’s too late. Geralt’s already seen it, and he’s more horrified by what’s happening than he was by even the most deadly causes he’d managed to come up with. He can’t move, he can only stare in horror as Jaskier chokes up handfuls of petals, as bright and lurid as the bard’s favourite doublets. They flutter to the floor as Jaskier’s sides heave; he lets out a groan as another wave hits him, except this time it’s fucking brambles, knotted and gnarled, their thorns tearing at the inside of Jaskier’s mouth, making him gasp in pain.

Geralt’s paralyzed; his eyes widen in horror as Jaskier seizes the brambles in his hands- already beaten and bloody from the harpies’ claws- and pulls.

Finally, after what seems like an age, he yanks a particularly vicious clump from his mouth, and to Geralt’s relief, it seems to be over. Jaskier blinks, shudders, and falls to a seated position, bracing his back against the wall of the cave and wiping his bloody mouth with the back of his hand. He’s looking down at the floor, refusing to meet Geralt’s eyes.

‘Any chance you didn't see that?’ He asks weakly.

Geralt doesn’t know whether to punch him or hug him. He settles for growling ‘what the fuck, Jaskier?’

Jaskier shudders again, before pushing himself to his feel and taking an unsteady step towards the Witcher. His blue eyes finally meet Geralt’s amber ones.

‘It’s not as bad as it looks.’

‘Bullshit,’ says Geralt. He clenches his fists to stop them shaking. ‘Try again.’

‘What?’ Jaskier retorts, ‘you think I can’t handle myself?!’

‘No,’ says Geralt, getting more incredulous by the second, ‘I think you just vomited up a load of flowers, and correct me if I’m wrong, but unless you’re a fucking rabbit and I somehow haven’t noticed for the past decade, that’s not exactly normal!’

Geralt takes a deep breath, aware that his shouts are probably attracting the attention of the harpies. He cannot understand why Jaskier is being so blasé about this. He’s never come across anything like this in all his years fighting monsters and curses. The feeling of panic at losing Jaskier rises like bile in his throat, but when he speaks again, he tries to stay calm. He doesn’t want Jaskier to know why he’s so concerned, and the bard is already looking at him quizzically.

‘We need to find Yennefer. She’ll know what to do.’ Geralt says, partly to reassure himself.

‘I’ve got it covered,’ Jaskier says calmly.

Geralt throws his hands up. ‘Oh, you know the cure?’ He asks, sarcasm dripping from his tongue, ‘because funnily enough, I don’t think you’d be sick if you did.’

When Jaskier’s face is like thunder, but he stays silent, Geralt knows he’s won.

‘So we’ll go to Yennefer,’ he says, a little triumphantly. He can’t help it, it’s not often he beats Jaskier in an argument.

‘Fine!’ Jaskier cries, striding towards him until they’re face to face. ‘Even though it’s not like she’ll know some miracle cure that I don’t, that actually might have some chance of working!’

He snaps his jaw shut and steps back, as if already regretting what he’s said.

‘Anyway,’ he adds abruptly, before Geralt can ask what he meant, ‘you’re going to have to deal with our friends outside before we can go anywhere.’

Geralt nods jerkily and unsheathes his sword. He can’t argue with that. And slicing a few harpies will hopefully stop him puzzling over what Jaskier had said. Or at the very least distract him from the voice in his head that tells him there isn’t a cure.

***

In the end, it takes them about a week to reach Yennefer, and it would have been longer if Geralt hadn’t threatened to smash Jaskier’s lute if he didn’t stop trying to delay them. Jaskier gets quieter and more on edge the closer they get, but it all changes when they see Ciri running out to meet them, her long blonde hair flying out behind her as she pelts down the hill. Jaskier’s face breaks into a wide grin as she hugs them each in turn and drags them by the hand to the small cottage where she’s training with Yennefer, chattering non-stop as they make their way inside.

Yennefer doesn’t seem surprised to see them, despite the fact they weren’t expected for at least another few months. Once Ciri’s disappeared upstairs, Jaskier falls silent again, and it falls to Geralt to haltingly explain what’s going on while Jaskier draws patterns on the table with trembling fingers.

The impassive look on Yennefer’s face doesn’t change, but she tilts her head to one side, black curls falling forward.

‘And what would you like me to do about it?’ she asks.

Geralt wonders briefly if she and Jaskier have conspired to ask stupid questions just to make his temper rise. ‘Find a cure, of course.’

Yennefer’s eyes narrow.

‘You don’t know?’ she aims at Jaskier, who barely raises his head from where he’s slouched over the table.

‘Of course I do.’ Jaskier mumbles, looking at the ground like he’s hoping a hole will appear and swallow him up.

Before Yennefer can respond, there’s an almighty crash from above them, followed by a small voice shouting ‘don’t be mad!’

Before Geralt even has time to question what kind of damage Ciri’s managed to inflict, Jaskier mutters, ‘I’ll take care of it,’ rises from his seat and bounds up the stairs.

Geralt turns to Yennefer.

‘So are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on?’ he growls.

Yennefer’s frown deepens. ‘You mean he hasn’t told you?’

‘Told me what?’ Geralt cries, resisting the urge to tear his hair out in frustration.

Yennefer sighs dramatically, before rising from the table to look out of the window. Geralt doesn’t catch what he says, but it sounds a lot like ‘boys.’

Geralt waits impatiently, biting his tongue until Yennefer finally turns back round to face him.

‘There’s only one thing that causes this kind of sickness,’ she says. ‘Unrequited love.’

‘What?’

Yennefer bites her lip in annoyance. ‘You heard me. He’s in love with someone who doesn’t love him back. Or in Jaskier’s case, someone he thinks doesn’t love him back.’

So Jaskier’s in love. Geralt isn’t surprised, but it still hits him like a punch in the gut. Jaskier is in love with someone and it isn’t him. He tries his best to swallow the bitter taste in his mouth, but it lodges in his throat instead.

‘Who?’ he chokes out.

Yennefer laughs. ‘Are you seriously asking?’ she asks. She buries her face in her hands when she sees Geralt’s expression

‘I’m not sober enough for this.’ she groans, before sitting back down and looking Geralt straight in the eye.

‘It’s you, you idiot.’

Geralt freezes. ‘No it’s not,’ he replies, automatic. ‘It can’t be me.’

‘Oh, how foolish of me, I forgot,’ Yennfer says sarcastically, ‘it’s that other Witcher he’s been following around and singing ballads about for a decade despite all the dangers. My mistake.’

Geralt feels a small flicker of hope flare deep in his chest, but it’s extinguished just as quickly.

‘It can’t be me. You know how I feel about him- it’s not unrequited. Not by me, anyway. It must be someone else.’

The sorceress blinks owlishly at him. ‘Did you miss the part where I said Jaskier only has to think it’s unrequited? And assuming you’ve reacted to your feelings for him the same way you react to anything, by, oh I don’t know, burying it deep down and ignoring it, can you blame him?’

She has a point, as loathe as he is to admit it.

‘What do I do?’ he asks gruffly.

‘You need to tell him how you feel. And it has to be convincing, or… it won’t get better.’

Geralt gets the hint. He murmurs a thank you and rises, taking the stairs two at a time. He finds Jaskier and Ciri frantically picking up shards of what was once some sort of vase. He coughs once, and both their heads jolt upwards at the sound.

‘It was Jaskier!’ Ciri cries, attempting to hide the remnants of the pot behind her back.

Jaskier gasps. ‘Traitor!’ he calls, but he can’t hide the smile from his face. Geralt’s struck by how beautiful he looks, with the faint laugh lines etched around his blue eyes, before shaking the thought away. He has to concentrate, has to do this right.

‘Ciri, can you give us a moment?’ he asks. She happily drops the pieces of ceramic and runs down the stairs. Geralt swallows, steeling himself, but before he can open his mouth, Jaskier frowns and turns away from him, bending to pick up more fragments.

‘Yennefer told you, didn’t she?,’ he says, his voice tight. ‘Don’t worry about it, there’s nothing you can do-’

‘Jaskier.’

‘...and it doesn’t really matter anyway, I mean I was always going to die one day anyway, we can’t all be Witchers or mages-’

Geralt can’t wait any longer. ‘Jaskier, I love you.’

Jaskier abruptly stops speaking. The pieces of vase slip from his fingers, but he doesn’t turn around. When he finally speaks, his voice is so quiet that despite his heightened senses, Geralt has to strain to hear him.

‘Please don’t lie to me,’ he says, voice shaking, ‘it just makes it harder.’

‘No, Jaskier, wait-’

‘Just stop it!’ Jaskier cries, and he sounds broken. He spins round, and Geralt’s startled to see tears in his eyes. ‘It’s just cruel!’

He shoulders past Geralt and runs down the stairs. Geralt hears the door wrenched open before it slams shut. Panic overwhelms him. How the fuck is he going to fix this?

Yennefer’s voice rises from the bottom of the stairs.

‘Maybe go after him?’ she says, like she knows what he was thinking.

Suddenly, Geralt remembers how to function. He runs out of the door, skidding in the grass as he races to catch up with Jaskier, whose anger has already carried him quite far.

‘Leave me alone!’ Jaskier shouts as Geralt catches up to him, without turning round.

Geralt doesn’t think, he’s consumed with desperation to show Jaskier he isn’t lying.

He grabs the bard by the laces on the back of his doublet; Jaskier gives a strangled cry as Geralt spins him round, but he doesn’t pause to apologize. Instead, he pulls him in by the waist and kisses him as deeply and passionately as he can, his grip around Jaskier’s waist tightening as he holds him close. Jaskier stiffens in shock, but then his hands rising up to scrabble at Geralt’s shirt. when he can’t get a hold on the fabric, he moves his hands upwards to tangle in Geralt’s hair.

The kiss feels like it lasts a century. It’s still not long enough for Geralt to try and express all the things he’s wanted to say to Jaskier throughout the years, but he tries his best. When they finally break apart, they’re still tangled up in each other’s arms, and both breathless. Geralt’s chest heaves as he tries his best to tear his eyes away from Jaskier’s reddened lips and flushed face. He swallows heavily, before tracing a finger down Jaskier’s cheek

‘Do you believe me now?’ he murmurs, his voice hoarse.

Jaskier blinks once, slowly, before his lips pull up in a mischievous grin.

‘Actually, I’m still not sure. I think you’ll need to try and convince me again.’

The corner of Geralt’s mouth curls up in amusement, before he pulls Jaskier towards him once more. He’s only too happy to oblige.

#my writing #i have no idea why this took me so long #i just had zero inspiration #I do love writing exasperated Yenna though #geraskier #hanahaki #cw: vomit #fics #geraskier fics #also i had to get ciri in there

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crowleyellestair · 5 years ago

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Hey I hope you're doing okay during lockdown 😊 I read some of your witcher drabbles and I'm in love with your writing! Is it ok for me to request a fluffy blurb? How about an Eskel x fem! reader where reader has really bad nightmares but this time Eskel is there when she wakes up and comforts her? It's okay if you're too busy to write it. Take care xx

AN/// I’m doing fine, sadly work is still just as busy. I hope you’re doing fantastic, and thank you for requesting and for liking my works!!! I had another idea that was still within the prompt, so you’re getting a two for one!!

There have been only a handful of books that Eskel has read on psychology. Of course, there wasn’t much knowledge on the inner workings of the mind and functions to begin with. He also, despite his age, hasn’t been around women long enough to understand what could be happening. Eskel had been courting Y/n for only a couple of months, but he, along with the rest of the pack, have known her for years. She had helped Geralt find Ciri, and helped bring the kid to the keep. Every year, she was still allowed to come back during the winter despite humans rarely being invited.

They had coincidentally met up in the south near Gulet, and they spent a month together before heading to the fort for the winter. Nights were long as they stayed up either wrapped in conversation or in each other, and that’s how he didn’t notice it. It wasn’t a great thing to have as a witcher, but Eskel was a deeper sleeper. Geralt and Lambert could be roused by the sound of a pin drop, but the brunette would need something closer to an anvil. It’s been only two weeks since he’d first noticed it, and it was eating at him.

Whenever Y/n is ready and settling for bed, there is a new scent around her. He didn’t know what it is about her, but even the stench of her fear didn’t smell like most- like rot. It smelled like burning cake, sweet yet off. This new scent was also just off. It was like limes with the aftertaste of salt, and it lingered on her side of the bed. He hadn’t wanted to involve anyone, but he also didn’t want to be forward or feel ‘pushy’. The witcher asked Vesemir if he’d ever associated an emotion with the fragrance and his answer was shocking. His father figure informed him that limes or lemons were usually associated with nerves, the acidic scent coming from churning stomachs.

Dandelion had also been wintering in the fort, as he often did, and he knew the poet would be willing to help.

“And it’s every night before bed?” The bard was certainly confused, his finders dancing over his lute strings, but still focused completely on the man across the main hall’s table. Geralt had been plopped next to his friend, silently listening.

“Other than nights together, yes.” Geralt smirked but rolled his eyes. Eskel was known as cold to the outside world, but he truly was bashful when it came to himself or personal matters.

“And you hadn’t noticed before?” His hand came up, rubbing the back of his neck before brushing over his cheek for a moment.

“I usually fell asleep before she did. Y/n also wakes up before me. I asked once and she had said she simply had trouble sleeping.” Lambert finally made himself known, his voice bouncing off the walls.

“Maybe it’s that… period thing, like when Ciri first camped and-.”

“You poor soul. Do you really think it’s a year-round- forgive me, month long, event? You are sorely mistaken.” Dandelion’s voice holding a stern tone. Geralt’s hand placed itself on the poet’s shoulder in thanks for trying to keep the conversation respectful, and the younger witcher threw his hands up in surrender.

“I’m just here to grab some crates.”

“Do hurry.” His voice was still stern, and he had a humorless grin upon his face. He knew he’d make it up to the witcher later, but this wasn’t a laughing matter. Both Eskel and Y/n mattered greatly to everyone at the keep, and this was important. Geralt’s brows furrowed before asking,

“Where is she now?” Eskel’s knuckle brought itself to rub over his eye.

“Sleeping.” Dandelion perked up at his answer.

“Does she usually nap while you’re away?” Eskel felt more confused by this train of thought than he was contemplating the situation on his own.

“I bring her on contracts, but usually she does. Though, there aren’t too many instances where we’re apart. I’m not allowed to go to the market alone once she caught on to how people treat us.” Dandelion stopped playing for a moment, his fingers brushing his facial hair. Geralt leaned over, his grip giving a small squeeze.

“What are you thinking?”

“Certain people have bags under their eyes, regardless of sleep, but I think hers aren’t.”

“So?”

“So, I think Y/n’s refusing to sleep. She’s nervous to sleep.” Eskel’s brows furrowed faster than they ever had before.

“What? Why?” The poet wanted to roll his eyes, but he knew this was sensitive. He leaned closer to the table, and tried to soften his tone as much as possible.

“You know what it’s like being plagued by nightmares. Y/n isn’t a witcher, but you know she hasn’t led the best life. She might have been living life to the fullest since you’ve come into her life, but she certainly has specters following her.”

Eskel had taken what they had talked about, and tried to come up with a game plan. On his way back to his room, thoughts flooded his mind. He wouldn’t wake her from her nap once he got back. Hell, he might even wait till she’s woken up for a while before mentioning anything. He wants her to be comfortable when the topic is broached, and he knew that if they were still in bed, safe from ears (as best they can be) in their own room, then she’d be more open to talk. He won’t mention that the conclusion was a group effort, but he should say that she can go to Dandelion if she isn’t fully comfortable talking to him. Even if he wants to know. Needed to know. Only to be able to make it better, as his heart has been clenched since he first noticed the smell. At first, he thought it was him, but he knew she loved him.

As he approached their room, he heard a heart pounding, and burst through the door. The middle of the bed held a clump under the furs, shaking the whole frame. He approached quickly, throwing the fur to the side. There Y/n laid, arms and legs pressed close to her chest, her whole body shaking as she tried to pull in a breath. Her skin was deathly pale, sweat beading and rolling over her forehead, mixing with the tears that rolled from closed eyes. He started to call her name, but nothing came of it. His hand gently landed on her shoulder, the other cupping itself under her head. He called to her again, louder this time, only to have Y/n shoot to the other side of the bed, her eyes frantically rushing around the room. Eskel placed his knee on the bed, his hand going out as if to sooth an animal. The brunette called out again, and her eyes found his, a fresh wave of tears trying to be blinked away.

“You’re awake now.” His voice was soft in volume, but stern, trying to show that there was power and realism to him. His other arm came up, a silent invitation for a hug being put in place. She blinked at him for a moment before crawling into his arm, her hands fisting his shirt, nose jamming itself into his neck. Soft sobs could be heard, and she began to shake again, though it wasn’t because she couldn’t breathe. He curled himself around her, legs coming to frame hers, a hand going to the back of her head, and the other going over her hand that latched itself onto the collar of his tunic. They stayed there until she was whittled down into small sniffles. “What happened?” It took time for her to answer, but he didn’t press.

“There was a skirmish a year ago near the Pontar. I wasn’t in Vengerberg, but I was close enough when the scorching happened. I had a tent of twenty innocent victims. Not even soldiers. I could only save five.” Y/n was a renounced healer, and it was a miracle she saved even five in their state.

“Is it just them haunting you?” Y/n pulled back a moment to look into his soft, knowing gaze. “I know you don’t sleep when you should.” Her arm that wrapped itself around to his back unraveled and tried to scrub dry tear trails, the remnants starting to itch.

“No. It changes every night.”

“Will you wake me?” Her brows furrowed. “When you wake up from another dream, will you wake me?” The hand over hers clenched harder. “I may not be able to help slay this type of demon, but I don’t want you to suffer alone.” She started to shake her head.

“You don’t have to lose sleep over this.”

“And you shouldn’t have to. But I’m choosing to. I want you to know you can be safe, and that you won’t have to go through things- dreams or experiences alone any longer. I’ll always be here trying to keep you safe.”

It took a little longer to convince her, but she agreed. That night, Eskel once again wrapped himself around her, spilling sweet nothings into her ear. Knowing that she was safe in his arms, her body relaxed, lime nowhere in the air.

When Eskel had warned her to watch out, she headed it, but didn’t fully understand why. She chalked it up to some simple aggressive behavior or overbearing angst that didn’t come with a filter. When Letho leaned over the table, lips peeling back into a venomous smirk, whispering to her that his occupation entailed being a King slayer, it fully dawned. This was the witcher that had slipped past Geralt for so long. Eskel’s breathing techniques had been taken further, the brunette teaching her how to rein in her breathing and heartbeat for situations that called for it. Mainly, it was supposed to be used for if a monster somehow slipped past him, and she needed to hide. It wasn’t meant to try and cover her fear if for if a hostile witcher came along. Both she and Eskel knew that Letho was aware of her fear the second she got her heart rate down, despite how quick it and imperceptible it had been.

The lovers moved to the next town quickly and efficiently, but with the baggage of their encounter. Eskel had always kept himself between Y/n and Letho even if they had been sitting. His hand was always on her knee or the small of her back, her figure never leaving his line of sight. Despite these micromovements, Eskel was a right gentleman to the other witcher. While he declined the viper’s inquiry to receive help on the contract Letho had taken up, Eskel did hand him a formula of a lure to get the Chorte out. Despite the wolf’s efforts, Letho had select parting words for him,

“You make bold moves to protect the expendable.”

Y/n all but dragged the brunette out of the tavern, quickly getting him to Scorpion before anything broke out. They had taken measures, acting as if they were taking the trail to the adjacent town, instead cutting through the woods halfway and going deeper south.

The tavern they stopped at had an inn attached, and they decided to stay. Eskel found a contract, but would start the next morning, heading up to their room early. Y/n had found some gwent players, knowing she could make extra coin through them easily. It had been an hour before the healer finally meandered up to the room, tired from the trek through the woods and the intense gameplay. Satisfaction rang through her as she had won, though fatigue still took over. She gently opened the door, looking to her lover on the bed.

Eskel was reading, book in this outside hand, the other arm tucked behind his head making the perfect spot for her to tuck in next to him. She toed off her shoes, slowly let her trousers drop, and padded to the bed. He had a small smile for her, though his eyes still flew over the pages. Y/n climbed into bed, positioning herself into his side, giving his scarred cheek a chaste kiss on the way to rest her head on his chest. She noticed that he was at the end of the chapter, only a page to go before the break, and she knew he’d put it down to chat, but she fell asleep moments after laying down.

When she was awoken, Eskel was half over her, eyes sad and worried. Her heart pounded and sweat beaded, images of her last nightmare still flashing through her mind. Y/n’s eyes flew over every shadowed shape in the room, her shoulder fitting over Eskel’s chest. Her head snapped to look over his shoulder to look at the space behind him, all the while he was softly calling her name. She didn’t stop however, finally turning to him. Her hands cupped his cheeks, inspecting for blood that had previously been flooding out of his nose and mouth in her dream.

Her hands then flew to his shirt, fingers dragging over the dry material, finding no blood, no wound. She couldn’t really see anything, the overcast covering the moon light making it impossibly harder for the human. Eskel’s hand came up to cup hers when it flew over his heart. He knew that the beat was slow, but that she would still be able to feel it. His other went to her cheek, thumb brushing away the tears, and trying to sooth so she would stop shaking. Her eyes closed and she started to breath along with the man in front of her, their chests syncing up with only a few shaky inhales from her.

“I’m sorry.” Her head tilted into his hand.

“You know you never need to apologize for that.” They sat there for a handful of moments before he had to ask. “It’s been months.” It’s true that the two had been together for years now, but she still had them from time to time. Though, there was usually a trigger, either seeing Eskel badly injured after a hunt or passing through war riddled husks of towns. There was another difference to the dreams as well. It was never random people she couldn’t help, nor was it herself in the shoes of who was in danger. Eskel was always the victim in her dreams, and it tore at her heart every time. Even the thought of him getting hurt through her heartbeat to speeds it should never reach. That isn’t to say that she didn’t believe in his abilities. She had never felt safer than by his side, but she also knew his heart. Eskel would do anything to make her or innocents safe.

“It was Letho.” She could feel Eskel tense under her hand. “I didn’t know I fell asleep and you were reading to me. He waited in the shadows,” her tone was barley audible, but she knew he heard every word, every inflection. His, however, was just above a whisper, and his tone matched the tension in his shoulders.

“Did he hurt you in the dream?” Y/n shook her head lightly.

“No, he only said what he did to rile you up. And he was here to finish the job of taking you out.” Eskel had also noticed the pattern of her dreams and how they morphed into him being hurt. It hurt him to know that he was the source of her pain, though it also made his heart soar. To know that she truly loved him to where he plagued even her dreams. He had never thought he’d be happy, not like Geralt. And he was man enough to admit that he was jealous of his brother when it came to love. But now he had it, and he was never letting it go.

The dreams had lessened to only times after traumatic experiences, and he was determined to destroy them forever. Now, he just needed to figure out how to show her that even the threat of death couldn’t tear him from her loving arms.

#witcher imagine #witcher x reader #eskel x reader #eskel imagine #eskel #witcher eskel #geralt imagine #jaskier imagine

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corvo-bianco-lilacs · 5 years ago

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Nilfgaard was enormous. Not just the country itself, but everything within it. Homes were huge, people flaunted expensive clothing and precious jewels, not caring who saw and admired them. Ciri gripped Lavinia's hand tightly in her own, wishing that she could be anywhere but Nilfgaard.

"It's alright, little cub... I won't let anything happen to you." Lavinia whispered, her voice calm as she squeezed the young teen's hand in reassurance.

"Promise?"

"With my whole heart."

The pair stepped up to the castle, both feeling like ants as they stood before it. The guards stopped them, confiscated Lavinia's swords and dagger, then allowed them passage into the keep. They walked inside, a guard escorting them through the keep until they came to the throne room, where Emhyr sat dealing with some problem or another. At the sight of the ashen-haired girl before him, he dismissed the man before him and waved them forward.

"Your Majesty." Lavinia greeted, bowing low as they stood before him.

"Witcher. My guards informed me of your arrival with my daughter." He replied, glancing between the pair as Ciri tried to duck behind Lavinia's body. "Come my dear... There's no need to be afraid."

Ciri swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and stepped out to greet the man that had been called her father.

"Come... We shall speak in the gardens."

The pair followed Emhyr out to the palace gardens, both marveling at the beauty and sheer size, but also being fully aware of what was about to happen. Ciri hadn't been told the plan, just that she was meeting Emhyr. Lavinia, however, was fully aware of what was going to transpire. Her mother, Margarita and Triss were hidden in the palace amongst the denizens that walked about its halls. With any luck, one of them had heard that they were moving to speak in the gardens, and they had told the others. If Lavinia had known better, she was sure it was her mother who had been close enough to hear the initial conversation they'd had with his imperial majesty.

Emhyr moved to sit on a bench beneath a large willow tree, its drooping vines shrouding them from the gentle beams of the moonlight. Lavinia couldn't have planned the spot better. Apart from hiding them from direct light, it also hid them from view of the guards. Lavinia stood off to the side as Ciri approached her father, listening to the man as he spoke soothingly to her.

Casting a quick glance over Emhyr's shoulder, Lavinia caught sight of her mother standing beneath the shadows of the palace awnings, waiting for the signal from her daughter that they had agreed upon. She turned her gaze back to Ciri, who was now shifting uncomfortably on her feet as Emhyr continued to try and coax the girl to speak to him. At this, Lavinia gave her mother the signal, a gentle tug on her earlobe, and Yennefer reacted accordingly. The garden was covered with a barrier a moment later, with Margarita and Triss creating it, while Yennefer opened a portal that Calanthe stepped through, sword drawn at her side as she approached Emhyr from behind. Ciri caught sight of her grandmother the moment before she drove the blade into Emhyr's back and through his chest, piercing his heart with a look of pure malice on her face.

"That's for taking my baby girl to her death." She ground out, twisting the blade for good measure before wrenching it from his body, letting him drop to the ground as blood pooled around him. "We must go... Now."

Lavinia nodded, grabbing Ciri's hand and pulling her to the new portal her mother had created to take them back to the safety of Kovir. The sorceresses followed as soon as they made sure to dispose of Emhyr's corpse. They returned to the province a few minutes later, reconnecting with the small group that had returned before them.

"Beautifully done. A perfect execution." Yennefer commended, looking towards Calanthe with a smirk on her lips.

"I've had enough time to prepare for the moment... It was you who made it possible. You and your associates." Calanthe replied, the anger from before now replaced with a smile of relief. "I got closure for my Pavetta's death. I was able to kill the man who had taken her from Ciri and I... That was everything I could have ever hoped for, and you all helped make it possible."

Lavinia couldn't help the smile that came to her lips at Calanthe's words, while Yennefer had wrapped an arm around her daughter's back, both of them gazing at the family before them. Eist had his hands on Calanthe's shoulders while the queen had Ciri wrapped up in her arms. It was a moment of respite that they desperately needed after nearly losing each other before.

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witcherwrite · 4 years ago

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Disaster Dads Chap 1

This is also on my ao3 account at https://archiveofourown.org/works/22091329/chapters/52722004

Feel free to comment and share.

BLOOD MOON

He was roused from sleep by the sound of small footsteps making their way up to his solar. Geralt let out a soft groan cracking his eye open. Likely Ciri coming to badger him into anything else other than studying. She had become quite crafty in her excuses as to why she shouldn’t have to sit and read for the day but was still alright to swing a sword.

He huffed and nuzzled further into his pillows hoping to protect his head from an incoming Ciri attack. Oddly, when the doors to his room opened he didn’t hear her rush across the room so that she could leap into the bed as normal. Instead, she just stood in the doorway.

“Geralt?” she said uncharacteristically soft. Gods, was she that good at acting now?

He groaned into his pillows not yet worried enough to leave the confines of his blankets.

“I can’t train today.”

That’s new. He unburied himself enough for his sleep laden voice to be heard. “What?”

Sleep still fogged his mind, preventing him from making any clear reasoning as to what her excuse today would be.

“I’m bleeding.”

He sighed; if she thought a cut was going to get her out of reading or drills today.

“How’d you manage that?” he brought his hands to his eyes, rubbing them and yawning.

“I don’t know! I was sleeping!”

Geralt suddenly shot upright at the sound of panic in Ciri’s voice. His gaze shot over to her and immediately a hot rush went through him.

She stood there, hair a mess and a slightly worried expression on her face. She wore her bedclothes, but instead of their normal linen color. A bloodstain at the front of it, right where her legs met.

His head went blank. He must have failed at hiding his shock as her face suddenly morphed into that of panic.

“Why do you look like that?!” she sounded as if she was going to cry “Geralt am I dying?!”

“What?” his focus returned to her panicked expression, confusion taking over “No?”

Ciri gripped the front of her bedclothes tears in her eyes.

He lept from bed rushing to fix his mistake. “Ciri. No.” he tried to sound surer “No. No. No. No. No.” walking to her only wearing his own bedclothes.

He stood in front of her trying to hide his own panic. He had no idea what to do or say in this situation. He didn’t know how this worked and there were no women near Kaer Morhen who could explain this to her either. Vesemir. Vesemir would know.

Geralt grasped Ciri’s hand, realizing a moment too late that it was also bloody. Schooling his expression he said “Let’s go find Vesemir.” he tried to give a reassuring smile, something he never did and it only made her panic increase tenfold.

“Geralt! Why do you look so worried?!” Ciri was becoming louder and more upset every step they took. She never cried, not even when injured, and now she was near tears.

“Vesemir!” he bellowed. He had no idea what to do and he was only upsetting Ciri further. Gods he was horrible at this why didn’t he think to- “Vesemir!”

“Geralt what’s going on?!” Ciri was shrill with panic, and it took every fiber of his being not to lift Ciri and run to get someone to explain this.

“This is fine! It’s all natural! You’re fine!”

“Natural?!” she shrieked.

Both of their panics were feeding into one another's making everything worse. Geralt burst into the dilapidated main hall and bellowed again. “Vesemir!”

He saw the old witcher rush around a random pile of junk. “Geralt, what’s go-” the words died in his throat as laid eyes on the two of them. Both wild with panic and embarrassment.

“Oh. I see.” he said resolutely, uneasiness in the lines of his face. The pair saw the ambivalence in his face immediately, causing Ciri to finally cry out.

“I’m dying aren’t I?! I’m dying!”

Geralt glared at his master and growled out “Vesemir help me please!”

Vesemir walked forward trying to be comforting to Ciri while also arguing with his oldest pupil “I don’t know what you expect me to do Wolf. I’ve raised boys for the past century. I don’t know what to say here.” Ciri’s crying grew in volume.

“I don’t either!” he snapped back.

Ciri’s wailing attracted the other witchers in the keep. Eskel stood by with a similarly uneasy face.

“What’s going on?” the scarred face witcher said. Before anyone could answer Ciri wailed. “I’m dying!” she sniffled “I’m dying and no one will tell me why!”

“You’re not dying Ciri.” Geralt said gripping her hand tighter. “It’s fine. I told you-”

“You’re lying!” She howled as Lambert approached, assessing the scene. He would have been amused by the whole thing if it weren’t for Ciri’s legitimate distress.

Out of nowhere and with perfect ease he said “Oh, your moon blood. Congratulations.”

Ciri’s cries stopped immediately at the youngest witcher's calm demeanor.

“W-what?” she said between sniffles.

“You got your moon blood. You’re a woman now. Congratulations.”

The pandemonium that had filled the keep moments ago was brought to a screeching halt. Everyone stared at Lambert and he merely shrugged. Walking towards her.

“You bleed on your sheets too?” he said matter of factly.

Ciri nodded dumbly and Geralt’s gaze bounced between the two of them, still gripping her bloodied hand.

“Alright, well go up and strip your bed. Then bring a change of clothes, we’ll go wash ‘em out.”

He put a comforting hand on her shoulder, softly removing her from Geralt’s protective grip.

“You remember how to get blood out of cloth?”

Ciri sniffled slightly, the only sign that she had been crying were her red eyes.

“Yeah,” she said sounding surer. “cold water and goats milk.”

Lambert nodded a far more comforting and easy smile on his face.

“Well go on, you get the sheets and meet me out front. I’ll get the rest.”

She nodded, then looked at the other witchers, still a little nervous and shaken. They all had lost expressions so she focused back on Lambert’s sure one and ran off to her room.

Eskel looked at the youngest witcher incredulously “How did you-”

“I grew up with three sisters.” Lambert said sharply and Geralt was struck with the realization that they had never asked about Lambert’s life before Kaer Morhen.

Vesemir looked at him seriously, “Well, we thank you Wolf. I’m not sure that could have gone much worse.”

Lambert laughed loudly, shaking off the focused praise. “I’ve never seen three grown witchers shit themselves so badly!” a teasing smirk returned to his face. “And Geralt. With all the women you sleep around with you never bothered to learn about a woman’s moon blood?”

He prickled at the association between the women in his life and his surrogate daughter. “I know about it. I just don’t know how to talk to Ciri about her first time having one.” he growled.

Lambert’s face twisted in irritation “Alright, alright.” he threw up his hands “no need to go all Papa Wolf on me.”

Geralt softened instantly “Lambert, I-”

“I’m gonna take Ciri down to the lake and we’re gonna wash everything.” He paused and thought for a moment, looking back to Geralt “You ever have a girl leave one of her pairs of panties here?”

Geralt fought not to become angry again. “I’m not letting Ciri wear- ”

“No, not those genius!” Lambert said exasperated “The ugly cotton ones that they tie around themselves.”

Geralt was reeling and tried to think if anything like that could possibly be in the back of one of his drawers “No, I don’t think- ”

“ I got a few.” Eskel said, drawing shocked expressions “Deidre left a good amount of her things here.”

Lambert nodded “Glad someone knows what’s going on.” a wide grin was directed the white-haired witcher’s way.

Geralt tried not to be embarrassed by his lack of knowledge on this important time for Ciri. Feeling rather helpless all over again, even with the help that he asked for.

“Mind grabbing them?” Lambert said. Eskel nodded. As he walked past Geralt he gave him a few reassuring pats on his back. Somehow that only made him feel worse. He was sincerely thankful for Lambert’s help and his taking control of the situation, but the bastard was making it hard with his smug ass expression.

“Hey, Vesemir.” Their master’s piercing gaze switched from Geralt to Lambert. “Know if we got any bloodmoss or cotton lying around in the stores?” Vesemir nodded an inkling of pride on his face.

“Great, I’ll go grab-”

“No, no.” Vesemir interrupted. “I’ll go grab those and a bar of goats milk. Need to be able to do something here.”

He turned to gather things from the stores and Geralt simply looked at his bloodied hand.

Something unknown formed in his gut. Ciri had come to him for help, and he not only wasn’t able to do anything, but he made it worse. His gaze moved over to Lambert who was doing everything in his power not to look Geralt’s way.

He felt guilty and useless, sure he could protect her and train her, but what did he know of Ciri’s upcoming change? Future feelings and hurts that couldn’t be solved with the swing of a sword? She was becoming a woman and Geralt was wholly lost.

“Lambert-”

“Don’t.” The young witchers gaze shifted over. “ I know she’s your surprise child and all, but we can take care of her too.”

There was a lump at the back of Geralt’s throat and a stone in his chest as he spoke.

“We-” Lambert took a steadying breath and rocked from foot to foot. “We love her as much as you do alright? And sometimes other people may know better than you.”

He was frustrated and angry but Lambert was right. Much in the way that Yennefer was. Ciri needs more than one person to look out for her. He can’t be the only one and he can’t know everything she’ll need.

Geralt sighed and stood in front of Lambert to look him in the eye. The discomfort Lambert had at confessing his own feelings grew as he watched Geralt. “Don’t do that. I hate that look, you-”

“Thank you.” he said soundly a hand landing on his shoulder and giving him a solid shake.

Lambert’s face pinched in feigned discomfort while another expression ran through his features, softening him for a moment. “Yeah, happy to help.”

They both heard Ciri rushing down the steps at the same time they heard Eskel and Vesemir returning.

Lambert broke away, quickly refocusing on the task at hand. “I’m going to give her the whole talk on the way down. You cool with that?”

“You know the whole talk?” Geralt said amused.

“The bits I remember from my mom talking to my sisters. Merigold and Yennefer can fill her in on the rest when she sees them next.”

Geralt nodded and looked as Ciri approached them with a bundle of linens and a change of clothes stacked on top.

“Ready?” Geralt said.

Ciri looked at him a little worried. “Are you going with me?”

Geralt fought the hurt in his chest about Ciri no longer wanting him involved. Though he felt resolved by the fact that she had Lambert to talk to about it now.

“No, Lambert’s clearly better at this anyway.” Geralt caught Ciri’s relieved expression right as he saw a hint of pride on Lambert’s face. Eskel and Vesemir handed him their supplies.

“Oh! Ok!” She still ran up and hugged him, dirty linens and all pressed against his bare chest and sleep pants.

“Alright then woman! Time to go wash your mess out!” Geralt made a face at Lambert calling Ciri ‘woman’ but she was clearly overjoyed by the new moniker. Bounding away from him to chase Lambert out of the keep.

As Geralt watched them leave he felt Vesemir’s hand on his shoulder. “Looks like our little witcher is growing up.”

He hummed, watching them open the hall doors, Ciri already asking dozens of invasive questions and Lambert answering them easily.

Eskel snorted, walking away. “We react this bad to her moon blood. Imagine what will happen when she introduces us to someone special for the first time.”

Geralt froze at the thought. “Fuck.”

#the witcher #witcher #geralt #geralt of rivia #lambert #eskel #witcher lambert #witcher eskel #ciri #cirilla fiona elen riannon #childhood #tw period #tw periods #vesemir #fluff #funny

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hamliet · 5 years ago

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The Rose and the Raven: Ciri and Cahir’s Journeys

Or the post analyzing their foiling throughout The Witcher Saga.

While there are quite a few characters who undergo development in the saga, I’d say the four most complete arcs are Yennefer’s, Geralt’s, Ciri’s, and Cahir’s, because all four of them follow the same Jungian/alchemical structure. I’ll write something on Yennefer as the Red King and Geralt as the White Queen (no, those terms are not me mixing them up) later on, but for now I want to focus on Ciri and Cahir, because they are utterly necessary for each other’s arcs. They meet three times, and each of these meetings mark particular points in their development.

In this meta, I’m going to focus specifically on the very blatant Jungian symbolism employed by Sapkowski. (Honestly the symbolism is basically Jung 101.) In particular, Sapkowski draws from Jung’s Psychology and Alchemy, which explores alchemy as a metaphor for individuation. Individuation is the main goal of Jungian psychology and literature, and it refers to a person reconciling with themselves to become a complete person, without repression, the best they can be. This “complete person/best person you can be” is akin to the philosopher’s stone in literary alchemy, and that is the journey of Yennefer’s, Geralt’s, Ciri’s, and Cahir’s arcs. Additionally, Cahir is Ciri’s shadow, and Ciri is Cahir’s anima.

NB before we continue: while anima/animus is often romantic in stories, it does not have to be; for example, Jung spoke of one potential frequent anima as a character’s sister. So while Cahir does say he’s in love with Ciri, I’m not delving into that debate in this post. Ty.

The Black Raven: Cintra

Literary alchemy begins with the prima materia, the primary material that comprises the entire world and from which the philosopher’s stone will be formed (the reason alchemists want to form the stone? It creates the elixir of life, which grants eternal life. This is important for The Witcher’s themes). The Fall of Cintra is where the main saga begins, and it’s also where Ciri and Cahir meet. Cintra itself is not the prima materia; rather, Ciri and Cahir are.

Cahir describes his mindset before the fall of Cintra as, essentially, the opposite of the ultimate goal of individuation:

A soldier does not question commands... He does not analyze them, he does not think about them, and he does not expect an explanation of their meaning. This is the first thing they taught us soldiers.

Whereas Ciri is quite literally a child at this point: innocent, mischievous, unaware of the horrors that await her. A child relies on adults to help them survive; they cannot individuate because they need people to care for them.

Ciri is in a sense Cahir’s inner child. In Jungian works, true adulthood can only be achieved when the person learns to parent or care for their inner child. Later on, we hear that Child!Cahir is noted to be mischievous and fun, much like Ciri:

Small Cahir preferred running around the walls and fighting with his peers from families who came with their parents for the funeral, burial and ceremony. Cahir was devoted to making mischief by the walls.

But that changes with his brother’s death and his mother’s admonition:

“Remember, my son,” Mawr sobbed, clutching her child to her breast so hard he could not breathe. “Remember this day. Never forget who put your dear brother Aillil to death. It was those damn Nordlings. Your enemies, my son. Be sure to hate them. Never stop hating that damn nation of murderers!”

“I will always hate, Mother,” Cahir promised.

Jung comments that the inner child “represents the strongest, the most ineluctable urge in every being, namely the urge to realize itself;” i.e. someone has to connect with their inner child in order to be able to develop a sense of who they want to become and thereby achieve individuation. Cahir’s goals prior to meeting Ciri are to achieve fame and glory in war, but once he encounters his inner child, that gradually becomes less important.

The first stage in alchemy is Nigredo, or the blackening. Nigredo is associated with night, death, dark nights of the soul, and specifically with ravens and crows as well. In fact, Jung called the darkest parts of Nigredo “the raven’s head.” (Yes, really.)

The Fall of Cintra and Ciri and Cahir’s meeting takes place at night, and Ciri’s main memory of this is the knight with raven wings on his helmet, marking this as Nigredo in both of their developments.

But even more than that, Nigredo can be divided into further steps. George Ripley’s Magnum Opus (which influenced Shakespeare, among other well known writers who shaped literary tradition) identifies the first stage as “calcination,” which refers to heating something to extremely high temperatures (thus, the blackening). To rescue Ciri, Cahir has to ride through literal flames.

The second step is “dissolution/solution,” in which something dissolves. The bath scene is dissolution, as Ciri is covered in burns an coated in blood, feces, dirt, and smoke. However, this is traumatizing for Ciri, because she has no idea why this stranger who can’t even bring himself to speak to her is bathing her. Cahir regrets it as well.

The next step is “separation.” Cahir falls asleep and wakes up to find Ciri gone. Jung cites this separation as being a particular separation of the anima and animus. But it’s this that gives Cahir time to reflect on his life choices and his allegiance to Emhyr (even if he doesn’t break right away with Emhyr): “I cried with anger against an emperor who likes chasing little girls. I cried for a year while sitting in a cell in the Citadel.”

Following their first meeting, Ciri has nightmares about Cahir, and Cahir has dreams about Ciri.

Ciri sees Cahir as a nightmare, a nightmare she needs to face rather than repress, in order to find hope for herself after all the trauma she’s been through. But at this point, she can’t quite do that, and at first is somewhat imprisoned by the nightmares. This marks Cahir as Ciri’s Jungian Shadow (the archetype Jung associated with Nigredo), which is essentially the part of ourselves that we try to repress. Ciri cannot remember exactly what happened with Cahir (a sign of repression), but she does remember his helmet and her fear. She is afraid of him in her dreams.

The White Monster: Thanedd

Prison and repression are strong motifs in both Cahir’s and Ciri’s arcs, but the difference is that Cahir is the one who starts out imprisoning himself whereas Ciri’s is more natural as a result of her being a literal child. Cahir is not going to grow at all by taking Ciri prisoner, but he tries to do so because he himself is a prisoner. He’s a prisoner of his family’s role and then a literal prisoner in Emhyr’s dungeon, condemned to die for over a year. He’s allowed to go free specifically because he’s literally the only Nilfgaardian who has seen Ciri and thereby they need him. Thus the concept of Ciri sets him free, but you can’t be truly free when you’re seeking to imprison someone else.

Yet Cahir still dreams about the girl with a rose tattoo. Cahir sees Ciri as a rose (something beautiful rising from thorns/pain), as his destiny according to the line of thinking that destiny is hope. The rose is red, symbolic of Rubedo, or what Ciri will become and what Cahir needs to aim for: philosopher’s stones, capable of producing eternal life.

I do think it’s important that the Ciri Cahir expresses himself as in love with is the one who appears in his dreams—as animas often do (Anima is the archetype of the Albedo stage, according to Jung). Jung says:

It belongs to him, this perilous image of Woman; she stands for the loyalty which in the interests of life he must sometimes forego; she is the much needed compensation for the risks, struggles, sacrifices that all end in disappointment; she is the solace for all the bitterness of life. And, at the same time, she is the great illusionist, the seductress, who draws him into life with her Maya – and not only into life’s reasonable and useful aspects, but into its frightful paradoxes and ambivalences where good and evil, success and ruin, hope and despair, counterbalance one another. Because she is his greatest danger she demands from a man his greatest, and if he has it in him she will receive it.

Seductress doesn’t have to mean sexual in this context, FYI. Think of the anima as tempting/seducing the man to grow as a human being. The point is that it’s this dream that encourages Cahir to grow, thereby setting himself free on the path to individuation.

Their second meeting comes at Thanedd, signifying Albedo, or the whitening. If Nigredo is the process of breaking things down, then Albedo is the process of cleansing away the impurities. “Conjunction” is a term in which all the separated parts that can be salvaged from the Nigredo come together: for Ciri, in the persons of Geralt and Yennefer and the like; for Cahir, it’s more internal (again more fittingly, because he’s an older teenager at this point). What he has left to grasp cannot be grasped as who he is currently, but he’s freed because of Ciri, and needs to continue to pursue what Ciri represents. That’s kinda all that’s salvageable.

They fight, and Ciri spares his life, marking Ciri’s decision towards individuation... because Ciri sees her inner child in Cahir, a bruised innocence she chooses not to kill:

There was no black helmet, no wings of a bird of prey, whose sound had pursued her in her nightmares. He was no longer the Black Knight of Cintra. Instead there was a pale dark-haired young man writhing in a pool of blood, a young man with blue eyes and his mouth twisted into a grimace of terror. The Black Knight of Cintra had fallen under the blows of her sword, had ceased to exist, the wings that caused her to be afraid were no more than limp feathers. The frightened boy, bent over, vomiting blood, was nothing. She did not know him, had never seen him before.... She was not afraid of him, did not hate him. She did not want to kill him.

She threw her sword on the ground.

This marks step towards maturity and towards reconciling with her shadow for Ciri.

Sapkowski then focuses on emphasizing just where we are in Ciri and Cahir’s refinement, making sure we recognize the white motif in this scene. Like, we get it, Geralt has white hair. It’s repeated so often for the symbolic purpose (emphasis is mine):

A white-haired monster attacked them. He jumped from the wall. From a height it was impossible to jump without breaking a leg. It was impossible to land softly, turning a pirouette that blurred to the eye and killing a split second later. But the white-haired monster did it. And he began to kill.

The Scoia’tael fought fiercely. They had the advantage. But they had no chance. Cahir gaped in horror at the sight of the massacre that was carried out. The gray-haired girl who had struck him a moment ago was fast, was incredible agile as a cat who was protecting her kittens. But the white-haired monster who jumped upon the Scoia’tael was like a Zerrikanian tiger. The gray-haired girl from Cintra, who, for unknown reason, had not killed him, had seemed to be crazy. The white-haired monster was not crazy. He was calm and cold. And calmly and coldly killed...

When Cahir opened his eyes, the monster was right before him. ‘Don’t kill me...’ he whispered, abandoning his attempts to rise on the floor slippery with blood. The hand that had been wounded by the gray-haired girl had stopped hurting and was numb.

‘I know who you are, Nilfgaardian.’ The monster with the white hair kicked the helmet with the broken wing. You’ve stubbornly pursued her for a long time. But you couldn’t even hurt her.’

‘Don’t kill me.’

‘Give me a reason. Just one. Quickly.’

‘I..’ whispered Cahir ‘I was the one who took her from Cintra. The fire... I saved her. I saved her life...’

When he opened his eyes the monster was gone, he was alone in the yard, alone with the bodies of the elves. The tinkling water from the fountain, poured over the edge of the pond, washing the blood from the floor.

Not only is there emphasis on white, but there is emphasis on washing away blood, or impurities, for Cahir. His reputation in Nilfgaard cannot be salvaged; only his soul, which chose to save a girl once, can be.

But guess what the next steps are in Albedo (if you said happy, you’d be sadly wrong): “putrefication” and “congelation.”

We see putrefication (focus on death and rotting) in Ciri, when she’s wandering the Frying Pan and trying to survive, her mind breaking and frustration and abandonment welling up inside of her. While this marks a darker, negative turn for her character, it’s actually very necessary towards getting Ciri to a place where she can accept her shadow self, represented in the person of Cahir.

In Cahir, putrefication lands him captured, to brought to Nilfgaard chained in a coffin. This is not subtly symbolic of him listening to his mother and chaining himself to an idea of hate that was born in death and can only ever end in death. When Geralt (the white monster) frees him, he is reborn, in a sense, and given a second chance not in the same sense Emhyr gave him a second chance: he cannot spend a second chance doing what brought him there in the first place. No, he has to change. This is further symbolized by Geralt giving Cahir the knife and telling him to free himself or wait to be found by other Nilfgaardians, sharply contrasting with how Cahir was freed before (for the purpose of serving Nilfgaard).

Congelation involves heat and requires lots of water, which is also seen in Ciri in the Frying Pan (for her, putrefication and congelation are kind of combined; this is not unusual in alchemical stories). When Cahir is freed from the coffin and when he later asks to join Geralt, Milva, and Jaskier, it is noted to be raining: “After the summer drought, the land was now soaked with water and the forest paths had turned to mud slides.”

Buildup to Stygga

So... I know I said I would be talking about their three meetings, and I am doing so, but technically there is another stage between Albedo and Rubedo (red), called Citrinitas (yellowing/golden). However, it’s most often compressed into Rubedo. So you could see Citrinitas as the buildup to Stygga and thereby part of Rubedo, and I kind of do, but I’m putting it in its own section for now.

Citrinitas focuses on the light, or fire. Basically, it’s where everything starts to go very, very wrong for Ciri.

Life isn’t kind enough to let Ciri continue as an innocent, merciful child. She literally draws from fire to save the unicorn, but ends up in a dark place afterwards. The next stages are “cibation,” “sublimation,” and “fermentation.” Ciri’s journey through these stages are quite clear: cibation is with the Rats, in which she distracts herself but also feeds herself with skills she will later use in her journey, sublimation is when she literally travels to a different world for (with sublimation meaning solid becoming air, and Ripley describes it as “in the air our child must thus be born,” which very much reflects Ciri’s journey back to her world), and fermentation... Stygga. It’s also telling that Ciri encounters Jung’s archetype of the wise old man in Vysogota during these stages, because Jun associated Citrinitas with that archetype.

Cahir, however, has a slightly different journey. Cibation is when he joins the hansa and starts to learn from Milva, Geralt, Jaskier, and Regis--in particular, from Regis, his own wise old man archetype, he learns redemption. They feed him in a spiritual sense. Sublimation is when he finally reconciles with his inner child as himself, exemplified in his relationship with Geralt.

For starters, Cahir acts like a child in punching Geralt for accusing him of betraying them, and is then treated by a child by Milva when she literally uses her whip to spank them apart. Then, Cahir gets injured and Geralt has to save him, which marks a moment at which both Cahir and Geralt reconcile with their inner child. (While I plan on writing a different post for Geralt and Yennefer, this point in Geralt’s development matters for Cahir’s own journey; hence its inclusion.)

Geralt has been blaming Cahir because he fears Yennefer has betrayed them, and so lashes out at someone he knows hurt someone he loves once, projecting his own insecurities and fears he abandoned Ciri onto Cahir. Geralt is only able to get over his distressed fears about Yennefer’s betrayal by acting like, well, a dad to a feverish Cahir, who opens up at last and keeps asking for reassurance like a child:

Cahir finally showed some signs of life, and shortly afterwards – miraculously – he stood up, cursed himself, and held his head. They continued on. Initially, Cahir moved quickly. Then, he slowed down. Then, he fell.

Geralt took turns carrying him on his back and dragging him, groaning, pushing against rocks.

...

“Geralt?” “Yes.” Cahir straightened the logs in the fire with the help of a leg bone he had found. “In the mine, as we fought… I was scared, you know?” “I know.”

...

“I've seen her constantly in dreams… I see her still, as a woman – beautiful, confident, provocative… with details, such as a fire-red rose tattooed in her groin…”

“What are you talking about?”

“I do not know, do not know, myself… But it was, and still is. I see her still, in the dreams, just as I had seen her in a dream back then… So, I agreed to take the mission on Thanedd. That's why I wanted to join you later. I… I still want to once again… to see her once again, to touch her hair, to look into her the eyes… I want to see her. Strike me dead, if you want. But I'm going to stop pretending. I think… I think I love her. I beg you, do not laugh.”

“I am not laughing.”

In a sense, Cahir’s role in regards to Geralt is giving Geralt a chance to see what Ciri has become before they reunite: an innocent mistreated by the world, a red rose striving to grow even among thorns, marked by her trauma but strong. Geralt helping Cahir is Geralt coming to terms with his inner child in both Cahir and in Ciri. And for Cahir, he comes to term with his inner child in himself, and acknowledges Ciri as not just his anima, but as a necessary part of the philosopher’s stone he’s becoming. Ciri’s tattoo is notably red, the color of Rubedo, of completion. The red rose is a sign of what Cahir has to pursue.

The Red Rose: Stygga Castle

“Exaltation” is where, according to Ripley, all things combine at last. He quotes Christ from the Bible as saying: “if I exalted be/Then shall I draw all things unto me.” Hence, Stygga is where everyone and everything comes together, from Ciri to the Hansa to Bonhart to Vilgefortz and Yennefer to Emhyr himself.

Exaltation is where “two contraries together shall meet.” By the time Ciri and Cahir reunite, they have both changed. This time, Ciri still is afraid, but then she recognizes the idea of redemption inside him, because it’s one she’s had to grapple with herself now. In doing so, she is no longer afraid of her shadow self. He apologizes and she sees him as a human and not as a nightmare, she accepts her shadow, thereby freeing herself from her fear that she is irredeemable. In other words, Ciri is brought closer to individuation than ever before.

Cahir, likewise, decides who he is and who he will be right there, thus achieving individuation and fulfilling the Jungian Self archetype (which is the archetype Jung associated with Rubedo). Cahir goes from being Ciri’s literal nightmare to being the one Ciri trusts to protect her from her nightmare in Bonhart:

“Run,” Ciri whispered, seeing who was coming down the second passage. “It is the devil incarnate. But he wants me and will not chase you… Go. Help Geralt…”

Cahir shook his head. “Ciri,” he said mildly. “I’m surprised at you. I cross the whole world to see you, and now that I found you, to redeem myself, to save you and defend you. And you want me to run away now?”

“You don’t know who you are dealing with.”

Cahir tugged on his gloves, removed his coat and wrapped it around his left arm. He waved his sword and swung it until it whistled in the air. “I would know.”

At the sight of the trio, Bonhart stopped. But only for a moment. “Oh,” he said. “There was a rescue? Your friends, witcheress? All right. Two more or less, it does not make a difference.”

Ciri suddenly thought of something. “Say goodbye to your life, Bonhart,” she cried. “This is your end. Here is your match!”

Undoubtedly she exaggerated. Bonhart caught the false note in her voice. He looked suspicious. “The witcher? Really?”

Cahir swung his sword, standing in position.

Bonhart did not waver. “Well, well, the witcher is younger than I thought... It would be more sensible, in that case, to get out of my way and flee. I want this wench, I have nothing against you.”

“Strong words,” Cahir said calmly. “Let’s see what else you can do. Angoulême, Ciri, run!”

Cahir’s being equated with Geralt in the above fight with Bonhart is significant. Ciri is Geralt's innocent side, and Cahir his not-so-innocent side. That Cahir both is held accountable by Geralt and comforted by him is important for Cahir and Geralt’s respective growths. By growing towards Ciri, his anima, Cahir has become more like Geralt, and towards Cahir’s ideal self as well: a knight who really saves people. He has become a philosopher’s stone.

The scene where Cahir dies describes quite a bit of red, noting that his blood falls at the feet of a statue like a sacrifice. He knows he doesn’t have much of a chance against Bonhart, but instead of the terrified boy begging Geralt to be spared, he’s willing to lay it all down to give Ciri a chance to escape. And he’s able to do it knowing that she expressed that she believed in him, and was trying to unnerve Bonhart to give Cahir the best chance possible.

Cahir’s mother told him to fuel himself with hate, but in the end, Cahir died for love, and he was better for it.

It’s also no coincidence then that after reconciling with her shadow in the person of Cahir, Ciri is finally able to defeat Bonhart. Nor is it a coincidence that she extends Bonhart the same mercy she once showed Cahir, sparking his redemption, to Bonhart. She can do this now, because she is no longer afraid of her mercy, her inner child, or of her darker side. She is fully herSelf. When Bonhart tries to kill her anyways, she is able to do what she has to do in that situation and without blaming herself.

Only then does Ciri truly mature and then reunite with her parents in Yennefer and Geralt (black and white, as Ciri is gray in hair; not coincidentally). She is exalted, then, as the philosopher’s stone. She is able to express her innocence and darker instincts together, weeping when she is told to say goodbye to them, and it’s the sight of that innocent child, the one that coexists inside her now, that spurs Emhyr to free her.

Neither Geralt nor Yennefer. Never again.

That awareness, in one fell swoop wiped away her fake mask of courage. Ciri’s face contracted and contorted her eyes filled with tears, and her nose ran. The girl fought with all her might, but in vain. A wave broke the dam as the tears made an appearance.

The Nilfgaardians in salamander cloaks looked on silently. And amazed. Some had seen her on the stairs covered in blood, had seen her talking with the Emperor. A witcheress with a sword, who was defying the Emperor himself. And now they were stunned, seeing a simple girl crying and sobbing.

...She struggled, but to no avail. The more she tried to restrain herself, the more she cried.

...

“A strange thing, fate,” she heard him whisper faintly. “Goodbye, my daughter.”

Of note, exaltation is where “man and wife” are “bur[ied] together/To be after revived in the spirit of life.” Geralt and Yennefer are sealed in a bath to commit suicide together, but make love first, and Ciri’s being freed means that they do not have to die after all. As the philosopher’s Stone, Ciri is able to produce the elixir of life.

Multiplication is the next stage, which is less overt in the text because in literature it’s often quantity, but it can be quality as well. Ciri taking her own destiny in her hands before the council of mages increases her quality as the philosopher’s stone; thereby I’d call that multiplication. Cahir dies during exaltation, but you could perhaps see his sacrifice as a way of enabling the multiplication and projection of Ciri.

Ciri’s ability to produce the elixir of life is further seen in the end scenario, where Ciri spirits both Geralt and Yennefer away to Avalon. Whether they are literally alive or not is not clear nor important, because they have transcended life itself. They have become legends, living eternally in them, as has everyone who traveled with them. Ciri telling Lancelot her story is projection, the sharing of the legend, the stone, the elixir of life, with the whole world... or in this case, worlds.

#the witcher #the witcher meta #ciri #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #cirilla fiona elen riannon #princess cirilla #yennefer of vengerberg #geralt of rivia #yenralt #alchemy #literary alchemy #jung #emhyr var emreis #vysogota #leo bonhart #andrzej sapkowski #ciri x cahir

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multimetaverse · 6 years ago

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Andi Mack 2x01-2x13 Re-Watch

I’m going to divide this post into main characters and their associated recurring characters. And with this post I’m all caught up to where I started writing ep reviews.

I’ll start by saying that I think 2a was the most cohesive stretch of eps the show ever had. All the main story arcs lead to the big events of Bex’s graduation and Cyrus’ Bash Mitzvah and we saw great character development and the show did a good job of expanding its universe; and there’s noticeably less filler than there would be in 2b and S3.

The writing did go off the rails a bit in 2b as the show couldn’t pull off Buffy’s moving plot or deal with the extra five eps Disney ordered in August 2017 but S2 as a whole comes off much better than S3 in terms of character development and story arcs. There’s clear growth for almost every character from 2x01-2x25 and where their stories began flows logically into where they ended. That’s not to say that S3 has been bad or that individual eps didn’t surpass what we saw in S2. For example both Howling at the Moon Festival and One in a Minyan both rank among the show’s best eps and they both improved on the similar themed S2 eps of Chinese New Year’s and Cyrus’ Bash Mitzvah. But S2 and 2a in particular have a sense of of a show firing on all cylinders rather than running out of steam as it has been for much of the latter half of S3.

Cyrus and TJ:

Cyrus’ story line in 2a comes off much better being able to binge watch it; I think people viewing the series on Disney + will have a much smoother experience. His arc also comes off way better than it does in S3, in part because he actually has an arc in S2. There’s clear growth and forward momentum from where his story starts in 2x01 to where it leads in 2x13 to where it ends in 2x25. In contrast, Cyrus had no real story set up in the first few eps of S3 and the gun plot and coming out to Jonah were more one off’s than carefully set up plots. There’s a clear line between Cyrus coming out to Buffy in 2x01 and him helping redeem TJ and realizing his crush on him in 2x25. Cyrus’ story does get a great ending as he gets together with TJ in 3x20 but there’s been no actual set up for that before the finale and there’s really no sense that his story is building to anything.

Cyrus coming out to Buffy is still so powerful. Knowing how far Cyrus will come from the scared, tearful boy who couldn’t even say aloud that he had a crush on Jonah to the confident young man who would later tell Jonah he was gay makes this scene all the more special.

It’s jarring to watch Cyrus talk about his feelings for Jonah or his relationship with Iris knowing that that last time Cyrus will openly discuss his feelings will be in 2x22 when he realizes his crush on Jonah is gone and he won’t be able to again until 3x20. I’ve discussed this before, but there’s a real momentum to Cyrus’ story in S2 even with the obvious restrictions on it: he comes out to Buffy, breaks up with Iris, gets to know Jonah the man not the myth and starts viewing him as a friend, gets to know TJ and starts viewing him as more than a friend, and comes out to Andi.

Ciris is rough to watch knowing that at best Tyrus will only get a fraction of the time and attention they got. Before the re-shoots for A Good Hair Day we would have seen Cyrus break up with Iris in 2x04 rather than 2x10 which fits much better with their second bad kiss in 2x03. I’m sure Terri would have done things a lot differently if she knew how much Disney would crack down after S2. Pretty clear set up in 2x03 for Cyrus to kiss a boy and come out to his parents at some point, not in S2 certainly, but probably in the S3 Terri was envisioning at this point. No surprise that this is the same ep that TJ is introduced and that Cyrus has his ‘’I hate TJ, who’s TJ?’’ line. I’m sure the writers were chuckling to themselves when they wrote that line, knowing what was to come with Tyrus.

Fwiw I do think Terri probably could have gotten Cyrus coming out to his parents approved in S3 since Cyrus was allowed to use the word gay instead of having to talk about his feelings for a specific boy but she probably wanted Cyrus coming out to his parents to be a bigger affair during some sort of Jewish holiday like Passover or Purim and likely wanted him to have his boyfriend TJ there to show an example of full acceptance from parents but also a chance to show that Cyrus can bring TJ into his family’s cultural and religious practices just like he would have if he’d been dating a girl.

The first swing set scene remains one of the best twists the show has ever done. A great, sweet scene that established an instant connection between Cyrus and TJ and showed where Cyrus’ story was really headed. Even in 2x03 they were setting up TJ to have a moment with Cyrus when they went out of their way to show him being mean to Buffy and coldly indifferent to Marty. The muffin scene was great set up for Tyrus, it was the first time we saw TJ genuinely smile and it established their dynamic of TJ making Cyrus more confident and Cyrus making TJ more kind.

TJ is typically an active character and we see that for good and ill in S2 where he often helps Cyrus with something but also takes action to try and drive Buffy off the team or get her to do his math homework. His character development in 2x11-13 remains some of the best work the show has ever done; we learn about his dyscalculia, see him connecting with Cyrus, try and be a better person while at the same time struggling with his bad habits, and learn his last name which marks him as an important character. Indeed, in S2 he was very important, without him most of Cyrus and Buffy’s plot lines couldn’t happen whereas in S3 he’s just been filler except for the gun plot as the show has to stall until Tyrus can actually canon in 3x20.

That’s not to say there weren’t obvious restrictions on Cyrus’ story. While him keeping his crush on Jonah secret from Andi made perfect sense it did allow the show to basically separate Andi from the gay story line for pretty much the entire series. Very clear that Cyrus could only have a set amount of scenes with Jonah even though it was painfully clear that Jonah is straight. 2x07 divides the plots into Jandi and Muffy with romantic plot lines and Cyrus with his wacky screen play. We see Jonah gift Cyrus a Space Otters jersey which Cyrus never wears because he wasn’t allowed to. The Tyrus apple cider scene got cut for ‘time’ but I think we all know that if 2x13 had been Andi or Buffy’s Bat Mitzvah that they never would have cut their only scene with their love interest and for that matter they never would have had just one scene with them.

Buffy and Marty:

Buffy starts off strong in S2 and we really see her at her best counselling both Cyrus and Andi and sticking up for herself and her friends. As badly as her moving plot was botched, it did make perfect sense why the show had her move specifically; she really is the glue that holds the Good Hair Crew together.

She had a great moment with Jonah in 2x10 where she opens up about her mom and shows real vulnerability. We also see her standing her ground and turning down Marty who she did like because she knew (correctly I think) that them dating at the time probably wouldn’t have ended well.

The writers did her dirty by having her agree to do TJ’s math homework when she would have obviously known that TJ suddenly doing better would be suspicious and she would be exposed if he ever got help for his Dyscalculia.

I don’t think it’s a surprise that her story really goes off the rails late in 2b once it became clear that they weren’t going to get Marty back. I really don’t think the show would have had Andi ask if she should call Buffy and Marty, Muffy or Barty, in 2x02 if they had known at the time of writing that they’d lose Garren for over half the series. It seems to me that the original 20 eps were written with the hope or expectation that Garren could come back, likely to say in person to Buffy what he wrote in his time capsule letter, and the final 5 eps where the show introduces Juffy/Wuffy were written with the expectation that he was gone forever. What we see of Muffy in 3c is probably a very condensed version of Terri’s original plan for them.

It’s so bizarre that they took the time to make the Airplanes a real team with an actual coach but played the Spikes as a big joke for the most part.

Andi and the Macks and Jonah and Amber:

When Bex and Bowie tell Andi that Cece is selling the house, Andi says what I think is one of the most important lines of the series, that Andi Shack was there for her when Bex and Bowie weren’t. I think it was likely always in Terri’s mind that the series would end with Andi herself clearing out Andi Shack as she grows and moves on from her childhood crafting to bigger and better things.

Mama was one of the best eps of the series. The show really needed to address the circumstances of Bex leaving home in order for the Mack family to heal and move forward and I can see why Terri wrote it herself. She did a great job of showing how young Bex really was and how awful teenage motherhood truly is. I’m glad they didn’t gloss over the fact that Bex would simply not have been able to give Andi as good as a life as Celia did when Celia thanks Bex for having the strength to make that sacrifice for Andi’s sake. And it’s made clear that the dysfunction in the Mack family began long before Bex got pregnant and that one way or the other Bex was always likely to leave home.

Celia telling Bex she’s proud of her at Bex’s graduation was touching and a great end to the Mack women’s estrangement. But it also marks the end of Celia as an important character. From then on she’s almost always just in the wacky grandma role.

Frankly, it was nice to not see Bowie every ep. It really was a mistake to make him a main while also keeping Celia as a main.

Bowie basically instantly gets over Bex turning his proposal down but Bex is also clearly written as still in love with Bowie. Wild how long they dragged it out but at least they got their happy ending.

Clearly Gabriel was the cause of the Good Hair Day re-shoots, I’d love to know what happened since Disney let them write and shoot the ep before deciding it needed to be drastically re-shot.

I forgot how absurd the Celia selling the house plot was, it only lasted from 2x04-2x08 and was introduced by Terri herself. I’m sure they regret not sending Ham off permanently in S2 but they Lauren Tom was under contract for 4 seasons just like the other mains and the show could never afford to lose the Mack family set so it was always going to be pointless.

Miranda started off like a normal person but by her final appearance in 3x12 she was a cartoon villain.

Really seems like they had something planned for Amber as she was in 3 of the first 5 eps before disappearing for huge stretches and only being in 7 out of 25 eps in S2. Which I’m not complaining about, we really did not need Amber in 11 out of the original 21 eps of S3. She never had much of an arc and it’s sad that she ends S3 still working at the Spoon and still with parents who fight.

Jonah comes off a lot better in S2 then he does in S3. He’s a much more supportive friend and we still see some of that Bill Clinton Charm. The Jandi dimples convo was cute. I’d love to know what Terri’s plan for Jandi was because she tears them down in 2a then builds them back up and largely fixes their problems in 2b then just drops them early in S3 and at best maybe they’ll get some ambiguous endgame in 3x20.

Jonah’s panic attack plot was a real shocking moment. Though it does highlight some of the show’s pacing problems in that TJ helping Jonah in 2x13 isn’t addressed again until 3x08 which is a 20 ep gap and those eps aired nearly a year apart. The audience had drastically shrunk by that point and a good chunk of those who were left barely remembered TJ getting help for Jonah.

Walker was a character who started bright with promise but by 3x09 his character was run into the ground and swept aside to make way for endgame Muffy. Wandi really was cute in 2x13 and they had great chemistry. For a character who was in both S2 and S3, Walker ended up being completely forgettable.

#Andi Mack #Tyrus #Muffy #Jandi #Bexie #Andi Mack Rewatch #Andi Mack Season 2 #Andi Mack Meta

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