niespodzianka | ( aefenglom ) inbox

[ It's just Geralt is a little bit in the famous last words territory of things-that-won't-actually-be-fine. Ominous meta.

He doesn't want it to feel like what it did with Yen, even though that didn't actually feel like anything until it was gone. There had been no difference before he made that wish and after, but he'd felt like something had been torn from him when she'd undone it. He still can't put his finger on what it felt like but he still doesn't want it with anyone else. But this has to be different. It's a necessary biological, if also metaphysical, function. Like shitting. It'll be fine.

Perhaps that's not the right thing to mentally compare it to. The witch's head doesn't move but her gaze ticks sharply over to Geralt, seeing something he can't. She stares at him for a moment then asks him to repeat his vows. He obliges. Just get it over with.

The magic overload in his system pricks at the edges of his concentration, making him feel uneasy. The witch is fiddling with something else, attention on the supposed spell again. He can feel that, too. ]

[ Right, so Lambert wasn’t expecting flowers to start blossoming out of Geralt’s ass or anything, but he’s been holding the other witcher’s hands for a while now, and as the witch’s fiddling carries on, he struggles to hold his impatience in check. Without any further explanation forthcoming, though... ]

What’s taking so long? [ He asks, shifting restlessly. He may not be able to feel Geralt’s feelings per say but all his other senses are working just fine, and it doesn’t take a genius to sense the tension. If he felt like he was on the risk of exploding, he’d be tense too. ]

Impatience never helps magic, [ the witch says easily, practiced at being placating. ] And neither does cold feet, though it's not unusual. Why don't you both let go, step out of the circle, and step back in.

[ She makes it sound very routine, and her smile is guileless. Though when they move to do this, her gaze stays on Geralt. Assessing something. He can feel her attention on him despite the fact that she isn't turned towards him, and he pointedly refuses to look at her.

Round Two. The witch holds her hand over their joined ones.

A minute ticks by. Maybe a million years. Sure feels like it. Finally, she says: ] Please don't feel embarrassed. There's nothing wrong with taking some extra time to think about it.

[ Though polite and discreetly quiet, there's a definite note of dismissal in her voice. Trying to quickly get them out to avoid ending up a spectacle. ]

Think about it? [ Lambert, predictably, doesn't take the hint, and the pitch of his voice rise along with his temper, his grip on Geralt's hands tightening as though sheer force of physicality might be enough to glue their psyches together. ]

We've already thought about it. We agreed to it. You must be messing something up.

[ His words might be meant for the witch, but his golden-eyed gaze snaps sharply to Geralt, suspicious. ]

[ Geralt holds still like he's been frozen by Caranthir's void magic, realization and embarrassment nailing him to the spot. He's staring at nothing, some empty spot past their hands. ]

I can't force it, [ the witch says gently, her voice lowering even quieter opposed to Lambert's. ] Verbal agreement, even mental agreement, is sometimes at odds with what's within.

[ They could force it in Dorchacht, probably. He's sure there are ways.

The thought twists something in his stomach, breaks him out of that proverbial ice, and Geralt abruptly pulls his hand free from Lambert's. ]

Thank you, [ he says haltingly to the Coven witch, note of finality in his voice. She folds her own hands against her stomach and nods at him, expression a bit pained. He doesn't wait for further commentary, and bails out, without a word or look at Lambert. ]

( aefenglom ) inbox

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject