For once, Geralt rouses himself from meditation after Jaskier has already left. The side of the bed where Jaskier had been sleeping is still a little warm, so he can't have been gone for too long. Geralt gets out of bed shortly after he's awake, preferring not to linger underneath the blankets without another warm body there with him; he has plenty that he needs to get done in a relatively short period of time. The horses need to be prepared, their belongings packed up. His armor has to be cleaned off from last night's werewolf hunt. Geralt had already planned out the route that they would take to Kaer Morhen, and when Jaskier returns from his class, he'll have to inform him of it fully. The most direct route would take them through Rinde, and he has a feeling that the bard will kick up a fuss about it, just from the negative connotations associated with the place.
Geralt's not exactly thrilled, either. But following the Pontar is the best way that they can go, and if no one does anything abysmally stupid while they're there, hopefully they'll only have to be in town for one night.
When the witcher returns from the stables, both horses and their belongings in order, Jaskier is already back and had brought lunch with him. He's interested in the smell of stew when he walks in, but quickly finds himself distracted by an armful of amorous bard. Not the worst thing to come back to, all things considered; he thinks that he might get used to this, but then quashes the thought. Geralt tries to get a word in about the fishing thing, some reasonable explanation for a gesture that has few explanations other than the romantic, but Jaskier cuts him off before he has the chance. He's not surprised, really, he could never get a word in edgewise even before Jaskier had the option of kissing him.
The bard says some silly things about about loving him and then pushes a pouch into Geralt's hand. When he opens it and turns the bag upside down, a silver wolf brooch falls into his palm. He approves of the material-- silver is useful, and he'd been meaning to make sure that Jaskier had something on him that could be useful against monsters in a pinch, perhaps a silver dagger. There might be some still left at Kaer Morhen that would be serviceable, once repaired and sharpened; he may not have the funds for it now.
But.
The meaning of the jewelry is obvious, and it will be obvious to anyone who sees it. A claim, as Jaskier says, and while there's a part of Geralt that would be pleased to have his mark on his bard, the rest of him recognizes that as dangerous. A bard with a silver wolf brooch while Nilfgaard is on the hunt for the White Wolf's bard. It isn't smart, but it's something that Jaskier badly wants.
And, gods, when he brings Jaskier to Kaer Morhen with that on him, his brothers are going to have a field day. He'll have to kick both of their asses just to get a moment's peace.
Geralt turns the brooch over and unclasps the pin.
"Bring your cloak."
Once Jaskier complies, he'll pin it near the throat, a bright contrast against the dark fabric.
"Hm." He leaves his hands on Jaskier's sternum longer than necessary, his thumb ghosting over the silver wolf's head. "You may need to cover it. I've seen little of Nilfgaard since we left Vizima, and I don't trust it."
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Geralt's not exactly thrilled, either. But following the Pontar is the best way that they can go, and if no one does anything abysmally stupid while they're there, hopefully they'll only have to be in town for one night.
When the witcher returns from the stables, both horses and their belongings in order, Jaskier is already back and had brought lunch with him. He's interested in the smell of stew when he walks in, but quickly finds himself distracted by an armful of amorous bard. Not the worst thing to come back to, all things considered; he thinks that he might get used to this, but then quashes the thought. Geralt tries to get a word in about the fishing thing, some reasonable explanation for a gesture that has few explanations other than the romantic, but Jaskier cuts him off before he has the chance. He's not surprised, really, he could never get a word in edgewise even before Jaskier had the option of kissing him.
The bard says some silly things about about loving him and then pushes a pouch into Geralt's hand. When he opens it and turns the bag upside down, a silver wolf brooch falls into his palm. He approves of the material-- silver is useful, and he'd been meaning to make sure that Jaskier had something on him that could be useful against monsters in a pinch, perhaps a silver dagger. There might be some still left at Kaer Morhen that would be serviceable, once repaired and sharpened; he may not have the funds for it now.
But.
The meaning of the jewelry is obvious, and it will be obvious to anyone who sees it. A claim, as Jaskier says, and while there's a part of Geralt that would be pleased to have his mark on his bard, the rest of him recognizes that as dangerous. A bard with a silver wolf brooch while Nilfgaard is on the hunt for the White Wolf's bard. It isn't smart, but it's something that Jaskier badly wants.
And, gods, when he brings Jaskier to Kaer Morhen with that on him, his brothers are going to have a field day. He'll have to kick both of their asses just to get a moment's peace.
Geralt turns the brooch over and unclasps the pin.
"Bring your cloak."
Once Jaskier complies, he'll pin it near the throat, a bright contrast against the dark fabric.
"Hm." He leaves his hands on Jaskier's sternum longer than necessary, his thumb ghosting over the silver wolf's head. "You may need to cover it. I've seen little of Nilfgaard since we left Vizima, and I don't trust it."