He feels set on fire from the inside, bright white pain arcing through his veins. He cries out, voice hoarse. The sharpness of it ceases as quickly as it came, but the ache persists.
A clatter to his left draws his attention. He shifts. Distantly, he’s aware of the scratch and shift of the rough-hewn shirt and trousers he’s dressed in, but there are larger concerns, at the moment. His limbs feel awkward but otherwise cooperative, so sits up.
There is a man across the room with his back pressed against the counter. White hair, a beard. The man’s face is drawn in an expression he can’t parse. Beneath the man’s feet are shards of glass.
He doesn’t understand where he is or what’s going on. He opens his mouth to speak–and finds he doesn’t know the words to communicate this. He makes a quiet, wordless sound, questioning. He hopes it’s enough for the man to understand. He so wants answers.
He doesn’t know where he is or what’s going on, doesn’t understand the fear and hostility of the people he’d seen. He sits there, somewhere in the middle of the forest, and finally feels it hit him. He doesn’t know, he doesn’t understand. He sits and he cries, deep chest wracking sobs, until he’s too tired to keep his eyes open. He curls himself up small and tight in the roots of the tree, and sleeps.
T___T
Poor newly made Geralt with zero understanding of why people are treating him so cruelly, what he’s done to deserve such hate. Seeing him like that makes me so sad, but oh, I’m so glad he finds Jaskier.
Andoh:
“It’s alright sweetheart,” he grins and shoots him a wink, “your secret’s safe with me.” And Geralt doesn’t know what to do with himself, but he likes the way his stomach clenches when Jaskier touches him, the soft way he speaks. And he does trust that he’s safe with him. It’s…reassuring.
I’m so happy he finds such softness. <3
And just the way they slowly fall in love with each other, and Jaskier being all worried not because Geralt is with him, but because Geralt might leave. D= So good.
Seriously:
That night, Geralt sleeps in Jaskier’s bed, curled against his chest. He’s nearly asleep when the gentle tenor of Jaskier’s voice cuts through the soft haze of near-sleep. “–don’t know where I’d be,” Jaskier is saying softly, lips pressing intermittently to the top of his head, “gets hard being alone out here. And you’re so–” he cuts off, presses a kiss to Geralt’s hair again. He obviously thinks he’s already asleep. “You keep me grounded,” he says. “This is the happiest I’ve been in a long time.” He breathes it like a secret.
As Geralt lets sleep finally pull him under, swimming in Jaskier’s quiet confession, it’s the most cared for he’s ever felt.
And that ending??
I just. T_T Thank you for letting them be happy together. <3
i just want someone to write a fic where jaskier and geralt go to build a bear bc geralt never got a teddy bear as a kid so jaskiers like. uve never. made a bear. he names the bear roach. please someone write this.
Here’s the thing about build a bear, it’s located in the mall. And Geralt absolutely hates going to the mall. So, Jaskier has to trick him into going, like a dog dad tricks their dog into going to the vet. He plies him with some made up story about needing new hiking boots for their next trip and boom, Geralt thinks they’re going to Bass Pro Shops.
I miss Star Trek fandom from time to time but I really miss it around this time of year. It was my only fandom that had (almost) canon Jewish characters and it made me feel so warm and Seen that the fandom embraced that and made all kinds of cute fanart and fanfic that included reference to Hanukkah when everyone else was solely focused on Christmas. All my recent fandoms have been so heavily fantasy based that I can’t really reasonably headcanon stuff like that anymore ):
I’ve been thinking about this quite a lot tonight. As far as introducing Jewish traditions into a fantasy setting, well, why not? If you can’t find yourself reflected in a specific setting, there’s nothing wrong with adjusting the mirror.
In more specific terms, how about a witcher Hanukkah tradition?
It’s a tradition from back before there were all the different witcher schools, back when there was only the Order of Witchers. The Order kept a beacon burning at all times to guide their brothers still on the Path home. To let the beacon go out was to extinguish hope that these brothers would return home at all. The beacon burned without problem for many, many years.
One terrible winter, during a blizzard, the Order ran out of fuel for the beacon. They were trapped by the wind and the snow. No one was able to leave to get any more fuel while the storm raged. And the poor witchers—their hearts collectively broke at the thought of the beacon going out, of seeming to forget those who weren’t with them, but what could they do? Past a certain point, they had nothing they could spare for fuel for the beacon.
And the storm raged. And the beacon…burned.
It burned day after day, and the witchers were beside themselves in disbelief. They didn’t dare check on how this was happening because, well, witchers are fundamentally practical and the beacon was doing better without their interference. But every day, they waited for the flame to gutter. They waited, dreading the moment it would go out.
It didn’t.
Finally, after eight days, the storm subsided and they were off like a shot to get fuel, because, well, witchers are fundamentally practical and they know better than to press their luck. Every moment they didn’t have fuel was a chance for the beacon to go out.
Much to everyone’s relief, the beacon was still burning when they brought the fuel home. They fueled the beacon and it burned like it had done for the last eight days. It burned just like it had in all the days before that.
Time went on and the Order fractured into schools. The beacon doesn’t burn anymore. But the witchers never forgot.
During the wintering season, for eight days, a candle is lit in Kaer Morhen. One for every day the old beacon burned without fuel to bring their ancient brothers home.
That’s the story Vesemir told Geralt and Eskel every winter, when they were small. That’s the story Geralt told Ciri. That’s the story they were telling each other when Lambert got banned from lighting the candles ever again because “apparently, igni from across the room and two floors up is frowned upon in this establishment.”
