petcromancer | IC Inbox (Abraxas)

[The writing that appears in the middle of the night is far from the nicest he's ever done, sloppy with exhaustion and absolutely, overwhelming relief knotted together. He's only just woken up from after he's passed out from taking care of Geralt's wounds, post the efforts of holding his dead weight on a horse for over an hour.

The conversation with Hector over a week ago has sat uncomfortably with him all this time, and so he is the first one Jaskier reaches out to when he can grip consciousness long enough.]

Geralt is back home. Not from my doing, mind. I -- [And it cuts off as he's overcome with the truth of it. Now that he's been living nearly an entire month in a state of constant sickness, he's simply not sure how to feel now.] My apologies if I wake you. I'm not sure these messages even can. I wanted to tell you. Though, let me say, I was coming closer by the day to testing the viability of your plan.

Edited (me want better words) 2021-12-12 09:28 (UTC)

[Luckily for Jaskier, Hector keeps odd hours. It's not long before he responds, in his usual script.]

Good. Is he well?

Thanks for telling me. I'll save the Night Creatures plan for another day. You never know when it might come in handy.

[Oh, thank Melitele's splendid sense of timing. He needs the company.]

He's alive. He's healing. "Well" is always relative for a Witcher.

[There's humor in the curls of his letters, that come stronger now that he's received an answer.]

You know, one day, I'd still love to see them, your little creatures. Perhaps we can have them for a parade. Or. Oh. Is that a misuse of your powers? I don't know. I think it would be funny to see.

[Look, he's loopy and he could use funny right now.]

That is probably for the best. Can you imagine what would happen if Geralt were to smile? The seas would boil, and the stars would come crashing from the sky.

[It's late, and Hector feels so relieved on Jaskier's behalf that he's reaching a similar state of giddiness.]

They can parade if you want them to. It's not a 'misuse'. It wouldn't harm anything.

Unless of course you mean to have a parade for your witcher, in which case he might hurt himself scowling.

[Hector can't see it, but it does make him laugh. He has, in fact, seen Geralt smile. Usually amused, and the larger ones tinged in bitterness. A full-on grin, though? He's quite sure the earth itself should split.

The bed in Sam's guestroom is comfortable, yet unfamiliar. He should go home, but he's still bone-deep exhausted. He considers asking Hector to carry him back, yet it feels a bit rude after he's offered so much help already.]

Then I should love to witness it. [Though he, of course, already has a soft spot for both the fox and Constantine -- who he has taken to making singing gently to when no one is around -- he would love to see more, truly. The extent of what he can do.

He simply wants to focus on other things. Things that are not his Witcher friend.] I should say, he would not appreciate it as it deserves, either. When I can move again, I may be dragging you into this.

[And thus it's his fault for humoring the bard at all..]

Are you alright?

[Hector isn't sure what trials Jaskier had to go through to retrieve his friend, and this 'when I can move again' has him worried. Perhaps just Jaskier being melodramatic, but...

...but he saw how ragged Jaskier ran himself before Hector began forcing food down his gullet.... So best to check.]

Me?

[Perhaps the genuine surprise in being asked comes through: the letters appearing smaller, less cursive.]

Well, my arm feels as if a particularly obese frost troll's sat on it, I've been dizzy for three hours and barely made it to bed where I promptly tangled in the blankets and fell out, and I'm rather sure I've got a saddle rash, and... none of that is your fault or remotely interesting to hear about.

[A small pause, and then again, smaller.]

I'm heartsick and very much alive, to the detriment of many. I think I'll be fine. I simply wish to... not be here. For a bit.

Edited 2021-12-18 01:20 (UTC)

Think you could make it to the Horizon for a bit? I could draw you a bath.

[More accurately, he will have to create a tub in his Domain, since he's neglected some basic amenities that it simply hadn't occurred to him to add. Not that soaking in the Horizon will actually affect Jaskier's real-life pains, but short of tracking the bard down in the middle of the night and trying to drag him home, this is the best Hector can offer.]

[Again, Hector surprises him. Honestly, he should start keeping a tally.

It's possibly the kindest offering he's been given in... oh, fuck. Who even knows? Theoretically, he could go to a very real bath in Sam's washroom, but the very effort of even making it there and undressing is a tiring thought. In the Horizon, he will not recall this exhaustion, or this pain in his arm.]

Have I mentioned before how absolutely brilliant you are? It bears repeating, if so. [That is a resounding yes. He's already in bed, and slipping in there to find Hector's domain will be effortless.] Make it rather large, please. I must insist you join me.

[And those are the last words he gives before closing his eyes, letting his mind slip to a place it'd much rather be right now, anyway. Right at the edge of Hector's lands, with the golden bird, Hector's gift some time ago, behind him. (He only thinks it fair it return to see its creator from time to time.)]

That, you can never say too often.

[Hector hurries to the Horizon too, to prepare it and pretend like he isn't a barely functional adult who is only now installing a bathroom in his domain.

He models it off of one of the baths in Dracula's castle, a large tiled pool filled with steaming water pouring from a water feature. Alucard would probably weep to see it; Hector doesn't know how to pipes should work, so he doesn't bother with them. The structure is purely populated by domain magic, with no actual plumbing to support it.

Plenty large enough for two people, and also the dogs who peek their heads into the new room and lounge about on the pool's edge to bask in the warmth. Hector conjures some towels, sets them to the side, then steps out of his cottage to await Jaskier's arrival.]

[He's about to repeat it for a few hours if Hector is really meaning to ply him with a bath.

He is so incredibly thankful for the first time that he cannot bring anything out there in here; as his mind slips out of his body, so too does the exhaustion, at least for the most part, leave him. The ache he feels in his arm is now a dull thud he can ignore, like an old bruise nearly healed.

Though Hector's cottage reminds him of Geralt's, he's certainly not allowing himself to give a thought to his friend at the moment. Once Hector is in eyesight, the bird gives a little croon -- though it's hard to say whether it's excitement at seeing Hector again, or a reflection of how Jaskier's heart skips a beat.

He gives him a wave, and when in arm's length, pulls him into a too-tight embrace, in which he also kisses his cheek.] Hello again, my handsome little devil. [And for a moment, where he hides his face against Hector's hair, his tone takes on the fact he feels too much, all at once, relief and fondness and an overwhelming affection for Hector's quiet offering.

And by the time he pulls away, he's pulled himself together again. Luckily the Horizon does not reflect him as he is right now in that bed, neither fucked up hair or baggy eyes or a dreadful pallor he's held for a week. No, here, he gets to be as bright as a spring chicken, with a bright blue doublet and warm cream chemise that he intends to take off very slowly.] Not that I mean to rush things along, but I must see what you've come up with.

[Hector smiles at the sight of bard and bird together, and he lets himself be drawn into Jaskier's embrace. He's starting, little by little, to acclimate to Jaskier's readily offered affection, but he's still greedy for it, the way his dogs always want more belly rubs, no matter how often Hector indulges them.

In spite of how tired Jaskier proclaimed to be in his physical body, here he looks as if a weight has been lifted off of him. A peacock in a fancy blue jacket, which suits him.

Hector motions him to his cabin door.]

I can't take credit for this. The castle where I worked had an exquisite bath, and I copied it quite liberally.

[The rough wooden door of the cabin still opens up to Hector's library, but he leads them to a new door within it. The carpeted floor gives way to mosaic tiles as they cross the threshold.]

It's big, as requested.

Please, Hector. I wouldn't know any wiser. You must take credit where you can! Besides, the real work is remembering all the finer details.

[He takes his time walking through Hector's space, indulging in the warmth of it. Books upon books upon books, of course; exactly the man so inclined to discuss science as he'd been the first time they'd met in the Horizon. He peeks around simply to see if anything has changed, noting the finer details, and perhaps pausing a few times as they walk through to give a few dogs a good scrub on the head.

After all the new compatriots he's found nesting and housing and digging about in his own space, he can't fault the man for having so many critters around. Their presence, even if they are far from real, is a comfort. Look, he even has friends that change into beasts. It's like he attracts them now.

Stepping in, the air turns thick with humidity, the sound of splashing water filling the quiet. His brows raise, and he laughs.] Why, Hector, it's a veritable pool. Nearly a bath house. Not, of course, that this is a complaint.

[It's certainly not, because as Jaskier steps carefully over a pup, he's already unbuttoning his doublet, letting it fall to the ground behind him. And there goes his chemise. He is, in fact, more eager to get into this pool than he has been for anything in weeks.

Even if he pauses, once his top half is nude, to bend down and rub the ear of a dog currently sticking its nose in his pile of clothing, ties of his trousers hanging loose between his legs.] You are very lucky, my friend, that canine drool does not stain so easily here.

time to break this bad boy in (around the end of November)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Because sometimes sharing is caring

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject