This- this is Geralt asking for his company, asking him to be his travel companion. It's not poetic and it's not really a question or truly expressive a want, but it's sincere. It's Geralt's, a language that Jaskier knows well. Because he does, right? Geralt is telling him he does know him, that all his guesses and not listening to Geralt's denial the past twenty-two years were right.
There's so much Geralt is saying today that Jaskier's always wanted to hear, and it's a lot to process. The words echo in his head, fighting against the little dignity he has left, when the second blow comes, hitting him on his chest and making him catch his breath.
This can be whatever you want it to be.
Jaskier finally looks up with wide blue eyes, not believing what he's hearing, searching golden suns for the truth they hide behind those words. It can't possibly be this easy, not when a few hours ago he was pining over her...
Ah. Wait.
He pulls his hand back as if it were burning (it's actually shaking a little bit) and he has to take a deep breath before he can speak again.]
DON'T! [He raises a finger in front of Geralt's face, but not for long. It's soon taken back as his hands start flailing in crazy gesturing, which is the perfect visual representation of how he feels right now: a mess.] Don't make promises that you don't even know what they would entail just to appease me! You have no idea what you're offering here.
[His voice becomes small at the end of the sentence, matching the way his heart is cowering not to be hurt again.]
I know you! You feel guilty. So you're going to do whatever it takes to make it better. And- [He gulps.] -it's not as flattering as you think it is. At least, not for someone like me, who knows you and your stupid-arse witcher logic. That's what you said, right? You said I know you. Well, I do! [He opens his arms wide.] And that means you can't buy me back with service. I want you- no, I need to know how you feel. What you actually want, not what you're willing to give up - because yes, you oaf, they're different things. I need this friendship to be reciprocal! In case you haven't noticed, I've already been making what I could out of this for the last twenty-two years, and what has put us here now is your running away from it! No more running from this friendship, witcher. No more "fuck off, bard". No more "we're not friends". No more being a dick to me! I don't mind some banter and teasing, gods know I won't stop calling you emotionally constipated, but filling-less pie? That hurts, Geralt.
[A sigh.] I want to go with you. Like burning. But only if things get better from now on. Because no matter how much I care about you- [His arms drop to his sides, feeling tired, and not precisely of gesturing.] -I don't want to go through this again.
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This- this is Geralt asking for his company, asking him to be his travel companion. It's not poetic and it's not really a question or truly expressive a want, but it's sincere. It's Geralt's, a language that Jaskier knows well. Because he does, right? Geralt is telling him he does know him, that all his guesses and not listening to Geralt's denial the past twenty-two years were right.
There's so much Geralt is saying today that Jaskier's always wanted to hear, and it's a lot to process. The words echo in his head, fighting against the little dignity he has left, when the second blow comes, hitting him on his chest and making him catch his breath.
This can be whatever you want it to be.
Jaskier finally looks up with wide blue eyes, not believing what he's hearing, searching golden suns for the truth they hide behind those words. It can't possibly be this easy, not when a few hours ago he was pining over her...
Ah. Wait.
He pulls his hand back as if it were burning (it's actually shaking a little bit) and he has to take a deep breath before he can speak again.]
DON'T! [He raises a finger in front of Geralt's face, but not for long. It's soon taken back as his hands start flailing in crazy gesturing, which is the perfect visual representation of how he feels right now: a mess.] Don't make promises that you don't even know what they would entail just to appease me! You have no idea what you're offering here.
[His voice becomes small at the end of the sentence, matching the way his heart is cowering not to be hurt again.]
I know you! You feel guilty. So you're going to do whatever it takes to make it better. And- [He gulps.] -it's not as flattering as you think it is. At least, not for someone like me, who knows you and your stupid-arse witcher logic. That's what you said, right? You said I know you. Well, I do! [He opens his arms wide.] And that means you can't buy me back with service. I want you- no, I need to know how you feel. What you actually want, not what you're willing to give up - because yes, you oaf, they're different things. I need this friendship to be reciprocal! In case you haven't noticed, I've already been making what I could out of this for the last twenty-two years, and what has put us here now is your running away from it! No more running from this friendship, witcher. No more "fuck off, bard". No more "we're not friends". No more being a dick to me! I don't mind some banter and teasing, gods know I won't stop calling you emotionally constipated, but filling-less pie? That hurts, Geralt.
[A sigh.] I want to go with you. Like burning. But only if things get better from now on. Because no matter how much I care about you- [His arms drop to his sides, feeling tired, and not precisely of gesturing.] -I don't want to go through this again.