For once in his life, Jaskier stays silent. And that speaks volumes of his current state of mind.
I'm here, the asshole says, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, as if they had just drank together some piss-tasting ale the night before. It's so much, too much to be exact, even for Jaskier, who usually isn't overwhelmed by emotions. He's used to feeling a lot, but not this, definitely not like this. Pain, fear, tiredness, thirst; his body and mind are already trying to navigate them all. He can't let his heart add all his anger at Geralt now.
He can't let it long for the gentleness on that voice that for once is showing care.
And now he's starting to feel dizzy.
A short sob escapes his lips, a mix of relief at being saved and his other emotions creating a hurricane in his chest, but he swallows the rest down when Geralt reaches out to touch him. Not right now, not like this. He can't help flinching, not because it's Geralt, but because his body still hasn't caught up with the fact he's free now, he's safe. These fingers aren't here to hurt him.
(This one does it with words.)
Jaskier lets him check anyway, because he isn't sure himself - his whole body is screaming in pain, he wouldn't be able to tell his injures apart even if he tried. Thankfully there is nothing broken - they're all bleeding cuts or purple bruises, and he does whimper when Geralt touches those, but at least his bones are fine. (They did threaten his tongue. Jaskier isn't sure he would've wanted to be saved if they had come through.)
Geralt's comment gets him a nod, then a shrug. Can he stand? He isn't sure, but he's going to try. Hands grab the wall and Jaskier raises slowly, the back of his legs showing more gashes from whipping there. The answer to the question? It's a no. His whole body starts shaking and with a painful fuck! he falls to his knees, fire burning through his veins, making it hard to breathe.
"Geralt..." Pride and anger forgotten for now, Jaskier begs in between pants for the only thing he desperately needs right now. "Please take me out of here."
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I'm here, the asshole says, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, as if they had just drank together some piss-tasting ale the night before. It's so much, too much to be exact, even for Jaskier, who usually isn't overwhelmed by emotions. He's used to feeling a lot, but not this, definitely not like this. Pain, fear, tiredness, thirst; his body and mind are already trying to navigate them all. He can't let his heart add all his anger at Geralt now.
He can't let it long for the gentleness on that voice that for once is showing care.
And now he's starting to feel dizzy.
A short sob escapes his lips, a mix of relief at being saved and his other emotions creating a hurricane in his chest, but he swallows the rest down when Geralt reaches out to touch him. Not right now, not like this. He can't help flinching, not because it's Geralt, but because his body still hasn't caught up with the fact he's free now, he's safe. These fingers aren't here to hurt him.
(This one does it with words.)
Jaskier lets him check anyway, because he isn't sure himself - his whole body is screaming in pain, he wouldn't be able to tell his injures apart even if he tried. Thankfully there is nothing broken - they're all bleeding cuts or purple bruises, and he does whimper when Geralt touches those, but at least his bones are fine. (They did threaten his tongue. Jaskier isn't sure he would've wanted to be saved if they had come through.)
Geralt's comment gets him a nod, then a shrug. Can he stand? He isn't sure, but he's going to try. Hands grab the wall and Jaskier raises slowly, the back of his legs showing more gashes from whipping there. The answer to the question? It's a no. His whole body starts shaking and with a painful fuck! he falls to his knees, fire burning through his veins, making it hard to breathe.
"Geralt..." Pride and anger forgotten for now, Jaskier begs in between pants for the only thing he desperately needs right now. "Please take me out of here."