Geralt can tell the moment that he said the wrong things, because Jaskier's sent goes from sweet and pleased to angry and resentful in the space of moments. Geralt is painfully, acutely aware of the fact that he is bad at this, almost spectacularly so, and it becomes evident as Jaskier takes the book in his hand and slams it on the desk. The sound and suddenness of his actions makes a muscle twitch in Geralt's jaw, and it's as good as a flinch.
Then he yells, arms spread to their wingspan, and Geralt weathers his outburst with the same measured stoicism that he takes physical blows. A year ago, if Jaskier had vented his bile at him in this way, Geralt would likely have told him to shut up, to leave, that he didn't want to hear it. He's had a year to come to realize how the blessing that he had demanded was more of a curse, and he has learned his lesson from it-- slowly, perhaps, but it has been learned. It had only taken days of being back in the bard's presence to alleviate the misery that had followed him since the dragon hunt.
"I hear you, Jask."
Geralt won't argue the imbecile part, or even the broken part, but maybe for the first fucking time, he hears Jaskier. Sure, it only took an immensely unsubtle ballad being sung directly to him, and then twenty minutes of a gaggle of university students calling him an idiot practically to his face for him to do so. And that in and of itself is a fact that rankles him a little the more that he thinks about it-- Jaskier rehabilitated his reputation and now people aren't afraid of him. That's a grievance that he'll have to come back to at some point, put a pin in that for later.
The point is that twenty years of ballads and following him across the Continent and touches and 'my dear witcher's and 'yet here we are's are finally resolving into a pattern in Geralt's head, one that says that all of Jaskier's little flirtations weren't just his naturally coquettish personality. And that there is the possibility that they still aren't, that maybe Jaskier hasn't completely given up on the idea of throwing his easily-broken heart at a brute of a witcher, even though time and experience has shown him that he won't be gentle with it.
But there is the specter of Yennefer of Vengerberg that must be dispelled. And it must be done with the right words, otherwise everything will go even more to shit than it currently is right now. This is perhaps not a task that should be entrusted to Geralt, but here they are.
"The djinn's magic will always pull Yen and I together," he says, and that would be a bad place to leave it. "But it has also ensured that anything that could have been between us is... impossible."
Yennefer made that clear before she made her way down the mountain. He has already lost me. How surprised Borch must have been to see his prediction come true so quickly, and for Geralt to ruin not just one relationship, but two, right in front of him. Like a stage play, The Many Fuck-Ups of Geralt of Rivia. A farce.
"Nothing I could do would ever be enough to prove our feelings genuine, and Yen would never accept a love built on something that isn't true. She made that much clear."
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Then he yells, arms spread to their wingspan, and Geralt weathers his outburst with the same measured stoicism that he takes physical blows. A year ago, if Jaskier had vented his bile at him in this way, Geralt would likely have told him to shut up, to leave, that he didn't want to hear it. He's had a year to come to realize how the blessing that he had demanded was more of a curse, and he has learned his lesson from it-- slowly, perhaps, but it has been learned. It had only taken days of being back in the bard's presence to alleviate the misery that had followed him since the dragon hunt.
"I hear you, Jask."
Geralt won't argue the imbecile part, or even the broken part, but maybe for the first fucking time, he hears Jaskier. Sure, it only took an immensely unsubtle ballad being sung directly to him, and then twenty minutes of a gaggle of university students calling him an idiot practically to his face for him to do so. And that in and of itself is a fact that rankles him a little the more that he thinks about it-- Jaskier rehabilitated his reputation and now people aren't afraid of him. That's a grievance that he'll have to come back to at some point, put a pin in that for later.
The point is that twenty years of ballads and following him across the Continent and touches and 'my dear witcher's and 'yet here we are's are finally resolving into a pattern in Geralt's head, one that says that all of Jaskier's little flirtations weren't just his naturally coquettish personality. And that there is the possibility that they still aren't, that maybe Jaskier hasn't completely given up on the idea of throwing his easily-broken heart at a brute of a witcher, even though time and experience has shown him that he won't be gentle with it.
But there is the specter of Yennefer of Vengerberg that must be dispelled. And it must be done with the right words, otherwise everything will go even more to shit than it currently is right now. This is perhaps not a task that should be entrusted to Geralt, but here they are.
"The djinn's magic will always pull Yen and I together," he says, and that would be a bad place to leave it. "But it has also ensured that anything that could have been between us is... impossible."
Yennefer made that clear before she made her way down the mountain. He has already lost me. How surprised Borch must have been to see his prediction come true so quickly, and for Geralt to ruin not just one relationship, but two, right in front of him. Like a stage play, The Many Fuck-Ups of Geralt of Rivia. A farce.
"Nothing I could do would ever be enough to prove our feelings genuine, and Yen would never accept a love built on something that isn't true. She made that much clear."