cowt 12 sett 4-2 M1: adverse destiny (the witcher, geralt & jaskier, pg13)

[janie_tangerine]

 

It’s not like the stupid song is going to write itself.

Jaskier knows that, thank you very much, except that he has a feeling this one is just downright cursed – first someone poured ale on it while he was penning it down at the inn’s table, then he tried to re-write it and of course Geralt sat down in front of him right then and some monster viscera ruined that other parchment, so he just decided he was going to do that on the road the next day. It’s not like he hasn’t mastered the art of writing while walking anyway –

Except that it’s raining as they walk and it’s not like he can write when his boots are sticking in mud, so he just hopes that he doesn’t forget the damned thing before they reach another inn tonight. Geralt keeps on sending him looks like he’s not sure of what the fuck is going on with him, but he’s not asking and Jaskier’s kind of glad he’s not, because it’s ridiculous that he’s getting this pissed off for such a stupid reason, but –

The damned thing is just – elusive. He remembers how he wants it to go but he keeps on forgetting bits and pieces of lyrics and he hates it when it happens, because in the span of three days he’ll have forgotten most of it if he doesn’t write it down, he knows, and –

Fuck it. He tries to hum it so he doesn’t forget it, and when they get to the next inn at evening for once he is the one who looks like he’ll glare someone into shutting up if they even just talk to him.

“Everything all right?” Geralt asks, sounding concerned, which… is a new thing.

“Yes,” Jaskier sighs, “just… never mind. I just need to be alone for what, half an hour, then I’ll be fine. Really.”

“... If you say so,” Geralt says, “I’ll go see the alderman.”

They get a room, he goes off to see the alderman and when he doesn’t come back for a while Jaskier figures that the contract they saw on the way in, as drenched in rain as it was and nearly illegible, was still valid.

Well then.

Sadly their room doesn’t have a desk, so he goes downstairs, quill and parchment and all, and sits down at the table and tells the maid that he needs to not be disturbed and he’ll pay extra for it. She looks at him like she doesn’t get his deal but shrugs and says she’ll try but she won’t guarantee for the noise, and finally he’s sitting down and starting to write, right, so the music went like that –

“Beg your pardon,” a man asks, “are you the bard Jaskier perchance?”

Fuck. He looks at the barmaid, who shrugs as if to say sorry, I tried to stop him.

“Sure,” Jaskier smiles tiredly, “can I do anything for you?”

Turns out, the man wants a signature for his daughter who is a great fan but is currently not in town. Jaskier provides it and then goes back to his song, already hating that he forgot how he wanted the lyrics to open, and then someone else interrupts him because their niece loves his songs and she’s actually here, would he mind meeting her, and Jaskier never shied away from this kind of thing but – today of all days?

He smiles and says of course he’ll meet her, and two hours later he has nothing of the song written down and he thinks he’s forgotten half of what he meant to pen anyway.

He sighs, figuring he’ll give it one last shot.

He goes as far as writing one line when the door opens, Geralt comes back in literally covered in blood and Jaskier pretty much forgets parchment and quill on the table before helping him upstairs.

Turns out, most of the blood wasn’t his, but by the time they got a bath brought up and he managed to kick Geralt into getting into bed and sleeping it off instead of saying he was fine and didn’t need extra salve before bandaging the wounds up, when he comes back downstairs both parchment and quill are gone.

Figures.

He goes back upstairs and shakes his head as he gets his boots off.

“The hell is wrong?” Geralt croaks from the bed.

“Nothing,” Jaskier shrugs. “Just, I’ve been trying to write some stupid song down for two days and it’s destiny it’ll never see the light. Never mind. I’ll live.”

It’s telling that even if it’s pitch dark he can feel Geralt staring at him.

“Hm,” he says, “maybe I could give you details on why I’m covered in harpy’s blood tomorrow morning.”

“You would?” Jaskier immediately perks up – Geralt has never offered them in two years at this point –

“Maybe,” he says, “don’t make me change my mind and go to sleep, you’re radiating tension.”

The fact that Geralt is telling him that is just –

He finishes getting ready for bed and slips under the covers. Geralt’s probably right and if he couldn’t get it down so far it probably wasn’t worth it.

And when tomorrow he gets his precious details, he’s going to glare anyone into not coming close lest he gets interrupted for that, too.

End.