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Summary
They were somewhere between pleasantly warm and nearly drunk when Jaskier looked seriously at Geralt and said, "Do some witchering on me." Geralt snorted and drank his ale, shaking his head.
"Something small. I'm just curious. I've seen your magic all the time on other people."
"It's not a party trick, Bard." Jaskier hummed thoughtfully, in a note that Geralt had come to know meant "I'm not letting this go."
"Fine." Geralt tore a piece of bread off the chunk he was eating and held it up in front of Jaskier's eyes. "See this?" He cast the sigil for Axii in his other hand, gently touching Jaskier's mind. "You want this more than you've ever wanted anything. And you can't have it." He pulled the bread slightly away, studying Jaskier's face. Nothing changed. Geralt grunted again. "Didn't work."
"How do you know?" Jaskier asked dryly, eyes flicking to the crust of bread before his face smoothed out into its usual pleasant expression.
"Because you always look at me like that." Geralt tossed the bread aside, surprised at the swiftness with which Jaskier snatched it up. "...hm."
Series
- Part 1 of Conversations
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¿Por qué no puedes tenerme?"
Los hombros de Jaskier se tensaron levemente mientras dejaba la túnica que estaba remendando. Negra, demasiado grande para él. Una de las de Geralt. Se giró y miró a Geralt con una mirada muy directa.
—Creo… —comenzó con cuidado, levantando una ceja— que no entiendo esa pregunta.
—Me miras como si fuera algo que quisieras pero que no puedes tener —explicó Geralt, más palabras de las que solía pronunciar para cualquiera, excepto para Roach—. ¿Por qué?
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*screaming*