[ she supposes she could have answered him, and in the moments after she almost - almost - wishes she had. there had been a moment in that question, the barest hint of a possibility, of geralt waiting for yennefer to meet him somewhere in the middle and offer up some measure of herself to whatever this was supposed to be. the small, tired, younger version of yennefer pushes towards that feeling, asks her what she would lose, if she just met him there? she does not stop thinking about him, in her own way. cannot bring herself to fully separate. even when she travels halfway across the continent and finds herself in a war, she still can't manage to escape him.
but instead, yennefer bucks back against him. ignores the question, redirects the thought. it feels a bit like she's trying to avoid telling him, if only because she knows what he will say. that it's madness she was there at all. that she's never cared for these sorts of wars before, so why should she now? and the truth of it is that she's not sure how she would answer him, if he did ask, and it is that uncertainty - unfamiliar and sharp in the back of her throat - that makes her want to avoid it all together. it would be easier, if he simply got angry. if he got tired of her stubbornness and walked away. maybe she should do it, instead. sigh and storm off like she had before, like she could do again. like she should do again.
when geralt looks at her this time, it is with a different sort of look. when he speaks, it is with a different tone. she had been expecting an edge to hang on to, or an icy chill, like a winter wind cutting through her clothes. instead, he is worried, still worried, and gods. when yennefer next exhales, it takes some of the tension from her shoulders with it. she's still so angry with him, she knows this isn't real, but she also just so tired. ]
I was at Sodden Hill. [ she does finally admit, after a few moments of silence, as she let herself come to the acceptance that the dice he had thrown had been the right ones. her eyes glance towards him, as if expecting him to laugh like he had when she'd admitted her reason for hunting the dragon, the way he'd looked at her then. whatever it is she finds, it doesn't much matter, as her eyes leave his face again to fall somewhere else. at the very least the vitriol that drips from her next few words is honest. ] Or I was, before that mage brought me here.
[ she of course notes that he still hasn't answered her question for him, either, but she decides to let that slide for now. ]
no subject
but instead, yennefer bucks back against him. ignores the question, redirects the thought. it feels a bit like she's trying to avoid telling him, if only because she knows what he will say. that it's madness she was there at all. that she's never cared for these sorts of wars before, so why should she now? and the truth of it is that she's not sure how she would answer him, if he did ask, and it is that uncertainty - unfamiliar and sharp in the back of her throat - that makes her want to avoid it all together. it would be easier, if he simply got angry. if he got tired of her stubbornness and walked away. maybe she should do it, instead. sigh and storm off like she had before, like she could do again. like she should do again.
when geralt looks at her this time, it is with a different sort of look. when he speaks, it is with a different tone. she had been expecting an edge to hang on to, or an icy chill, like a winter wind cutting through her clothes. instead, he is worried, still worried, and gods. when yennefer next exhales, it takes some of the tension from her shoulders with it. she's still so angry with him, she knows this isn't real, but she also just so tired. ]
I was at Sodden Hill. [ she does finally admit, after a few moments of silence, as she let herself come to the acceptance that the dice he had thrown had been the right ones. her eyes glance towards him, as if expecting him to laugh like he had when she'd admitted her reason for hunting the dragon, the way he'd looked at her then. whatever it is she finds, it doesn't much matter, as her eyes leave his face again to fall somewhere else. at the very least the vitriol that drips from her next few words is honest. ] Or I was, before that mage brought me here.
[ she of course notes that he still hasn't answered her question for him, either, but she decides to let that slide for now. ]