"Lovely," Geralt said, his voice as dry as the desert. "You have such a way with women." He winced as boot slid on something that forced him to catch himself and a hand was pushed to his side with a wince and an exhale. "Next time your cock gets an idea," he said through his teeth, "I'm going to tie you to the saddle and continue on."
It was quite clear to Geralt that Jaskier had been through something tonight and likewise it was quite clear that he himself had been involved in it-- but until the bard decided to fill him in on the details he wasn't going to bother to speculate why he had glass sticking out of him like he was some demented porcupine and broken ribs from a chandelier that just missed crushing his skull. Frankly there were more pressing matters, even if the witch wasn't here. When they reached a set of doors, Geralt looked back at the mess of the banquet table. He knew where he was-- which was a start for the night-- and the people around were clearly shaking off the same trance as he, but vengeful women were generally if not prepared then at least happy to be redundant in their efforts... at least, it seemed, where Jaskier was involved. His medallion was shivering against his chest but it seemed a tremor compared to what he'd ignored yesterday in the daylight, the more fool him. "No more cities," he growled under his breath as he pulled the door open. The crash of the sea outside was a constant sort of itch against his nerves and all Geralt wanted to do was get the fuck out of Cidaris and perhaps somewhere landlocked.
no subject
It was quite clear to Geralt that Jaskier had been through something tonight and likewise it was quite clear that he himself had been involved in it-- but until the bard decided to fill him in on the details he wasn't going to bother to speculate why he had glass sticking out of him like he was some demented porcupine and broken ribs from a chandelier that just missed crushing his skull. Frankly there were more pressing matters, even if the witch wasn't here. When they reached a set of doors, Geralt looked back at the mess of the banquet table. He knew where he was-- which was a start for the night-- and the people around were clearly shaking off the same trance as he, but vengeful women were generally if not prepared then at least happy to be redundant in their efforts... at least, it seemed, where Jaskier was involved. His medallion was shivering against his chest but it seemed a tremor compared to what he'd ignored yesterday in the daylight, the more fool him. "No more cities," he growled under his breath as he pulled the door open. The crash of the sea outside was a constant sort of itch against his nerves and all Geralt wanted to do was get the fuck out of Cidaris and perhaps somewhere landlocked.