choicely | open post;

( he waits until the too clean companion she's with excuses himself to do fuck knows what before peeling himself out of the dark corner he's been watching them from and takes the seat that the other man's just vacated.

he doesn't know how long it's been since they've seen each other but he brings a tankard of something strong with him and pushes it across the table for him. there are things to say but he's never been one to talk.

instead, he settles and he watches her, trying to gauge her reaction to seeing him once again. he sips his drink and then sits back, glancing in the direction of the man she'd come in with. )

He looks spry.

( that's the nicest thing he could say, he supposes. he knows that whoever this man is, she most likely needs him for something. unfortunately, he can't figure out what it is. )

[ It's been years since the last time she laid eyes on him, but time passes differently now for those of them who do not show their age — at least not written in their faces but perhaps still displayed in their eyes, including the golden ones that stare out at her now from across the tavern's table once he slides himself into the seat that's only just been abandoned. Its previous occupant will be back, but Yennefer imagines he won't be too distressed about finding his place taken if Geralt is still sitting in it, especially since the witcher is hardly willing to play nice with others.

It would honestly be just like him to step out of a dark corner where he's obviously been lurking, to approach her after years gone and act as if barely a minute has transpired — and Yennefer simply watches him with calm neutrality, the only reaction betraying her in the quiet arch of a brow. ]

Is that what you think I concern myself with these days?

[ She's using the man for an entirely different purpose, but she's very nearly tempted to let Geralt believe what he will about who warms her bed now. ]

( geralt looks back in the direction of where the man's disappeared and shrugs one shoulder before he turns his attention back to her. )

I don't know what you concern yourself with these days.

( since it's been quite some time since they've seen each other. she doesn't look away from him, he doesn't look away from her but he's the one who breaks first. )

Besides, being spry can mean he's good at a great many things. It's you who presume I was speaking of that, not me.

No. You wouldn't.

[ And she doesn't appear to feel any strong emotions about it, but even if she did, it's nothing she would let on that immediately to — not here, and not in front of him. Yet she does experience something that resembles... disappointment, almost, when he's the first to glance away from her, drawing in a minute breath. ]

When has it ever implied anything else? [ She manages to be amused by that, a disbelieving chuckle emerging in the rhetorical, but her gaze sweeps down to the tankard he's holding and then back up towards his face. ]

Have you actually acquired any coin this time, or are you still on the hunt for your next source?

( in response to her question, he reaches inside of a small pouch against his hip and drops a cloth bag. a faint jingling can be heard before he sits back once more. )

I'm resting.

( as much as someone like him can rest, that is. he'd done a job a short while ago and while he'd survived it, he'd had to admit to himself that he'd had to take the time to come back from it. so, that's what he'd been doing. it's not his fault she'd come into the same place. )

There might even be enough in there to buy you and your...dear friend something, if that's what you want.

One would certainly be under the impression that you’d been given enough to pay for a bath.

[ She cannot even necessarily claim that any real stink surrounds him at the moment — at least, beyond the typical odors of leather and horse, and even then she won’t admit to more than a passing familiarity with the scents that cling to him most often — but she can’t resist the jibe, violet eyes narrowing briefly. ]

What makes you think he is even a friend?

[ Barring the fact that she doesn’t keep many people close enough to even be considered friends, which she doesn’t think she needs to acknowledge. ] So is that your plan here? Lead with magnanimous generosity in an attempt to… what, exactly?

Nothing.

( geralt shrugs a shoulder and sips at his drink. that's not true, he does have a motive here but she doesn't need to know that just yet. he glances back to see if her dear friend's on his way back yet. he wouldn't be surprised if he went out the window as soon as he'd excused himself.

he brushes a thumb against his bottom lip. )

What is he if not a friend? You don't tend to surround yourself with many people. I just assumed that you two were close.

( he pauses. )

Platonically.

Do you think he's made the same assumption based on how the two of us are sitting here speaking now?

[ He had approached her with a level of familiarity, not even announcing himself or doing anything by way of greeting before taking a seat at this very table — though judging by the fact that its previous occupant seems to have made themselves scarce, they've either made note of the fact that she's in the company of a witcher or taken one look at Geralt's sheer size and thought better of staying.

Regardless, they don't appear to be worth her time any longer, and she cannot bring herself to experience anything resembling pity about it. ]

You've likely scared him off, anyway.

And you don't seem to be weeping about that.

( if he were that important, geralt thinks she'd be going after him. but here she sits, at the table with him, and not going after this mystery man.

guess he wasn't all that spry after all. )

Now, do you want a drink or not? I don't make that offer for just anyone. I wouldn't make it for him, at least.

I wouldn't even if he was someone weeping over.

[ She can likely count on one hand the number of times she has shed a tear over anyone else — and tears of frustration, or something conjured in anger, are nothing she thinks worthy of consideration either.

Her gaze finds his across the table again and she glances to the drink in front of him. ]

I thought most of the taverns here didn't serve anything above the quality of piss. [ Which is not actually a no, in so many words. ]

They don't. But it's free piss and who wants to turn that down?

( there was probably a lot of people, honestly, but it's good enough for him. he's had worse. he waits a moment before he reaches out and takes the pouch of money back, putting it away and sipping his drink. he finishes it and signals the barmaid for another. )

What are you doing here, anyway? Passing through?

( as he'd said earlier, he doesn't know what's on her mind lately. it has been a long time. )

No one comes to mind?

[ She only presses her lips together, as much of a concession as he's likely to get from her at this juncture, and doesn't shift much on her side of the table — merely taking stock of him, as it's been several years now since they've crossed paths let alone been in the same city, to her knowledge. Even without strictly looking for him, word of the White Wolf has reached her ears — most of it in drunken barsong. ]

There's only so much work someone like me can get. And only so much coin from those who need magic to fix their problems, provided they're willing to admit they need the help.

[ But she's hardly offering any of it with selfless motives in mind. ]

I won't be staying much longer if that's what you're asking.

It wasn't but it's good to know.

( he's quiet for a moment, watching her from across the table. there are things he wants to say, conversations they should have but he's proud and she's proud so what they've got is this superficial banter and poking at each other.

he sighs and looks down, settling his tankard on the table. )

How much longer?

[ They're silent long enough that the barmaid even has the opportunity to bring them each a drink — Geralt his refill, and Yennefer a tankard consisting of something she's not so certain she wants a sip of after all. Spending all that time in Aedirn's court had been a bore and a half, a waste of her abilities, but at least the drink had been better than whatever swill's being passed off as beer here.

That sigh from Geralt draws her gaze up again, and she waits a little longer before answering his question with one of her own. ]

Do you have a room? [ The question is asked in the same tenor she might pose a casual inquiry about the weather in, or discuss the state of trade in Redania — or it would, if she didn't pair it with a long, lingering stare. ]

I do.

( and that's all he says, keeping his gaze fixed on her as he does. around them, conversations prattle on, people move about but all he sees is her.

a moment later, he moves to stand, dropping a few coins on the table to pay for their drinks and then he starts moving away to the room that he's purchased for the night.

he has a feeling she'll follow. eventually. )

[ They can reach for pretense all they want, make conversation about other subjects just to pass the time — but inevitably, it seems all roads with him only lead to one end result.

(And she doesn't even take a sip of that drink either, leaving it on the table beside the coin he's left behind to pay for what's been served.)

She waits until he's ascended the stairs to the rooms before following behind, hardly caring about whether her original companion might return to this very spot looking for her. If he does, there won't be any evidence for where she's disappeared to, and she's never found it very difficult to quietly slip out of a room. When she wants to attract attention, she has ways of doing so.

She comes into the room after him several paces behind, putting her back to him as she turns to close the door and throw the latch to lock them within. ]

Do you still consider this resting?

( there had been the slightest of chances that she wouldn't follow. but, he'd tried not to think about that and he'd waited, preoccupying himself by removing his weapons and some of the armor he wears.

when she steps into the room, he looks back at her like there was absolutely no doubt that she'd be there. still, his skin warms when he does see her, heart pounding loudly in his chest.

after a moment, he crosses the room towards her, stepping into her space and looking down at her. )

That depends on how energetic you can be.

[ There’s no feeling quite like the one she has when they’re alone and he’s looking at her like he is now, as though she’s the best thing he’s ever laid eyes on. There are times she can even let herself believe it for a moment, just like she lets herself stand in his stare now that there are no other eyes on them.

When he approaches her slowly, she stays put, tilting her head back to keep him in her line of sight when he’s close enough to loom over her — tall, but not overwhelming her. Not yet.

She leans forward to kiss him, the faintest brush of her lips over his, a heated skimming, pressing forward to coax him into responding, into kissing her back. It’s only their mouths that touch now, at least, while she keeps her hands to herself, until it becomes painfully obvious that she can no longer refrain. ]

( he stays still for a moment watching her as she leans forward. he keeps his eyes open until the very last second and when her lips touch his, a shiver works its way down his spine before he presses in closer to her.

his hands stay at his hands just as hers do, fingers twitching with the want of touching her but he refrains just as she does. perhaps it's a test, a way to see how long they can resist.

geralt knows that it won't be long, not for him. he'd barely been resisting while they'd been talking downstairs. )

[ She doesn't just perceive the vibration of his shudder when her mouth finds his; she feels it, almost as if it travels through the length of him first and then passes into her too, as if they both draw on needed breaths at the exact same time. She couldn't necessarily recall the last time they'd confined themselves to a room such as this, but when she kisses him, she's simultaneously propelled back to that moment and standing wholly in this one, the familiarity of his lips taking over everything else.

In the end, she gives in first, her arms rising so that her hands can trace over his forearms, the crooks of his elbows, leading up to his biceps where she clutches onto him, and the kiss builds, grows harder, becomes hungrier.

He hasn't reached for her yet and she's all but tempted to make him, to lead him into putting his hands on her, to start unfastening her dress like she wants him to, to uncover her long before they ever reach the bed. ]

( there are times when geralt can display patience but this is not going to be one of those times because as soon as she touches him, any chance of him retaining that patience evaporates. he reaches out for her finally, hands curving around her waist, clutching at the dress and he considers, for a moment, just ripping it off her.

but, she doesn't look like she'd come with a bag so he can only imagine that, while she might let him, she wouldn't be too happy later.

geralt pulls her away from the door so he can reach around her, trying to find the ties or buttons or clasps that keep her dress around her because he's decided he wants it off and he wants it off her right now. he doesn't pull his mouth away from hers, deepening their kiss while he starts to take that dress off her. )

[ As much as she wouldn't object to Geralt's aggressiveness in the moment, and she's starting to have difficulty remembering why she wouldn't want that as soon as he finally puts hands on her, the fact remains that this is currently the only dress on her person; chances are she could conjure something else to wear, but that would be as a last resort.

There is a momentary thrill, however brief, that runs through her when she thinks about wearing something of his to replace it, but then she remembers it would likely smell of horse, and that suddenly makes the possibility much less appealing in her mind.

The buttons that meet his fingers, though, as he starts to fiddle with them, are smaller, with eyelet hooks that run down along the length of her spine — and the more he unfastens, the more the fabric parts away from her shoulders, leaving more skin open for him to touch directly. Her hands are similarly busy on his shirt, though, drawing the ties loose and then immediately reaching for where he's tucked it into his trousers, trying to yank it free — all without breaking that ongoing collision of their mouths. ]

( it would probably be easier to stop kissing so they could take their clothes off but when had they ever done anything easy? he doesn't want to stop kissing her, not after fuck knows how long without her. as soon as he'd seen her downstairs, all he could think about was her. there were very few things that could take his focus so completely and she was one of them.

he's impressed with himself that he's even able to get the clasps of her dress undone without breaking them but again, she distracts him when the dress pulling away means his fingers brush against warm skin. he moans just from that simple touch and grabs at the edges of the dress to pull it down more roughly, uncaring if it rips now.

he just knows that he has to touch her, that he wants to touch her more than anything else in the world right now. )

[ She’d thought she’d be turned off by the taste of the ale on his lips, whatever poor excuse they’re serving down below their feet, but it’s a fleeting thing compared to his own undefinable flavor, the way his tongue meets hers with the same amount of focus and purpose to which he applies his sword — and she doesn’t know how long it’s been since last they kissed, but it all comes back to her as easily as instinct.

When his need earns the better of him and he starts tugging down her dress with more intent, she shifts to assist him in it, rolling her shoulders as she pries her arms free of the sleeves, leaving the fabric to bunch around her waist and her upper half exposed for his sight, his touch.

Doing so means she’s broken the kiss after all and for a moment she just looks up at him, panting lightly, before gathering up one of his hands and leading it to cup over her bare breast, the nipple forming into a point against his palm. ]

( when it comes to her, there's always the need for more. more of her, more of her touch and more of her taste. she gives him everything and yet he cannot help but want more. he wants to surround himself with her and to forget about what he's done in the past, what he'll do in the future.

he just wants to focus on the now.

and she helps him with that when she tugs her dress down, giving him more of her to touch. he doesn't resist when she pulls his hand to her breast, covering her it easily with his palm before rolling the nipple underneath his thumb, wanting to feel it harden into a point against his skin while he licks his way back into another kiss. )

( some hazy time in season 1 )

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject