Geralt drifted, comfortable and sleepy as Jaskier worked. The bard let him but, despite the Witcher not being able to answer him, continued to chat at him as he cleaned, as he carefully rinsed across his stitches, as he changed the bed linens, and peeled the soaked bandages from his side. By the time he had the Witcher settled in bed, spread out over a set of pink stained towels, he was talking about the weather in Oxenfurt during winter. It was the most inane conversation he'd ever had at Geralt, but speaking to fill the air felt correct and the Witcher, well, he wasn't aware enough to object.
He could tell when the man finally passed out--his body went perfectly limp, sank into the feather mattress, and even his breathing failed to catch as Jaskier tried to tend his exposed wounds. He gave it his best, rinsed them with clear water, cleaned the edges gently with clear alcohol, cleaned his tools as he worked, but he was hesitant to flush anything les he wake the Witcher up. When he'd done what he could (which was less than should be done, frankly), Jaskier wound a few rolls of fresh bandage around his legs, around his side--and that had been a trick to pull off, but with a bit of struggling he'd done it--and tucked the Witcher in.
Jaskier ran out of words by the time he was done--it was getting late in the day and he debated going down for food, for drink, but gave up on the idea as soon as it came to him. No, he settled for planting himself, face-first into the bedroll on the floor and was out the very moment he was horizontal.
He woke once before dark--the teenage boy he'd sent to look for Geralt's sword was standing over him, looking pleased as punch, holding--fucking shit--no, not a sword--that was the creature's head. The creature's half eaten head, peeled by crows and rats, brackish meat exposed beneath the surface of teeth and rot, was what greeted Jaskier as he woke. He would have retched but, thankfully, he hadn't eaten a bite. He congratulated the eager youth, paid him, and demanded he put that thing in a sack and put that sack somewhere else. The boy had agreed with relish and run off, coin in hand, to do as he asked.
It took a while after that to sleep again and, when he did, that stupid eyeless bag of teeth haunted his dreams. He did not wake before Geralt, even though he'd planned to, but he had left water nearby in the event the Witcher woke.
no subject
He could tell when the man finally passed out--his body went perfectly limp, sank into the feather mattress, and even his breathing failed to catch as Jaskier tried to tend his exposed wounds. He gave it his best, rinsed them with clear water, cleaned the edges gently with clear alcohol, cleaned his tools as he worked, but he was hesitant to flush anything les he wake the Witcher up. When he'd done what he could (which was less than should be done, frankly), Jaskier wound a few rolls of fresh bandage around his legs, around his side--and that had been a trick to pull off, but with a bit of struggling he'd done it--and tucked the Witcher in.
Jaskier ran out of words by the time he was done--it was getting late in the day and he debated going down for food, for drink, but gave up on the idea as soon as it came to him. No, he settled for planting himself, face-first into the bedroll on the floor and was out the very moment he was horizontal.
He woke once before dark--the teenage boy he'd sent to look for Geralt's sword was standing over him, looking pleased as punch, holding--fucking shit--no, not a sword--that was the creature's head. The creature's half eaten head, peeled by crows and rats, brackish meat exposed beneath the surface of teeth and rot, was what greeted Jaskier as he woke. He would have retched but, thankfully, he hadn't eaten a bite. He congratulated the eager youth, paid him, and demanded he put that thing in a sack and put that sack somewhere else. The boy had agreed with relish and run off, coin in hand, to do as he asked.
It took a while after that to sleep again and, when he did, that stupid eyeless bag of teeth haunted his dreams. He did not wake before Geralt, even though he'd planned to, but he had left water nearby in the event the Witcher woke.