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wearykatie · 10 months

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Journey Into the Wild Beyond - Chapter 3: Thither (Part 1)

Just as a side note before I get into it - I really love the names of the different areas being Hither, Thither, and Yon. Really creative. I’m not at all bothered that a stroke I had over a decade ago gave me a very slight speech impediment that becomes worse when I’m tired and hits really hard on “th” sounds.

Thittthtththhhter

Before they went to Thither, the party wanted to stop in on a few friends and let them know the big bad hag was dead. They needed transportation though, and luckily, Downfall had a spare swamp gas balloon. Also a very lucky coincidence: Alice decided to show up again and she knew how to pilot one plus how to get past the fog barrier separating Hither and Thither.

…can I just call it Twitter or something? I don’t think anyone is using that.

Trapped in a balloon with the party, Alice couldn’t escape the questions. Who was she? Can’t say. Why is she helping? Can’t say. Why did she tell the party she couldn’t enter Downfall but did so just fine once they defeated the hag? Can’t say.

Good talk, Alice.

But really, they did get a lot out of the conversation. She wanted to help the party, she was sorry that they had to do this alone, and her inability to elaborate on things clued them in that she might be under the same magical compulsion as Diana from Chapter 1. She also seemed to have a particular bond with Elora.

Now, Elora had found out that her missing item was a stuffed animal and further that it was a rabbit. This is around the point that K asked me out of game what shade of blue Alice’s fur was. Oh, you know…

About that shade.

So that cat (or bunny) was out of the bag, since I decided that within reason, things the players can deduce out of character can be deduced in character if they’re working off the same information and not using meta knowledge.

During an overnight stay at the walking inn (the Inn at the End of the Road), Artie had a chat with Alice and during that, he noticed something. He wasn’t able to look Alice in the eyes. He knew she had a face, knew it was vaguely humanoid, but couldn’t look directly at it or recall exactly what he saw. It’s like something was charming anyone who looked at her to not want to look at her. Artie attempted to see past this, and since elves have advantage on charm effects, he managed to roll pretty high. Alice looked like Elora to him.

The party stopped by Telemy Hill to give Jingle Jangle the bag of truffles they recovered from Bavlorna’s cottage. Yet more acts of kindness that the DM and Prismeer would remember…

Imaginary Dragons

The book has the players cross over the fog barrier with help from a scarecrow friend and then they get dropped off, I guess, because the balloon isn’t mentioned again. The party seemed to like Alice, so I didn’t want her to ditch them again just yet. Hmm…oh hey, Prismeer has a dragon. Well, dragonkin. A Jabberwock to be specific, and its hunting ground is Thither.

Time for a balloon crash.

A mid-air battle happened with Alice shooting at the Jabberwock with a bow while trying to land the balloon as quickly as possible. This resulted in a crash, but Hakewood was able to cast Feather Fall on himself and the rest of the party, though Alice fell out of the balloon and got separated from the group. This was only long enough for the party to have a nice little encounter with a friendly NPC in a cave who spun gold into magic items.

The Wild Beyond the Witchlight really goes hard on the literary references.

Hakewood and Artie both sensed their items were to the north. They were safe from the Jabberwock for now, they had new items, and they found some ground transportation in the form of a chariot pulled by an owlbear. If you’re not familiar with those…I mean it’s in the name. They’re heckin’ cute too, and I didn’t have to be convinced to include one in my campaign.

I’d threaded the story of Zybilna through the last chapter and expanded on it more in this chapter, so let me talk about that for a sec.

The Wickedly Benevolent Queen

The party had read about someone named Natasha, they had heard about Zybilna, and through portraits in Bavlorna’s cottage, discovered that the hags were the daughters of Baba Yaga, but also there was a fourth daughter who seemed to be on the outs with the Hourglass Coven. There had also been mention of Iggwilv, the Witch Queen.

Before leaving Hither, the innkeeper Tsu was able to provide them with more information via an old children’s story about how Prismeer came to be. It was a domain of delight, carved out of the untempered raw chaotic magic of the Feywild called the Wild Beyond (my little addition to give the campaign title a double meaning) by the Witch Queen, Iggwilv. Iggwilv was a cruel tyrant looking to subject the new land and its people to her rule, but she felt discontent. She was too powerful. None could oppose her. She needed a challenge.

Enter Zybilna, an archfey (basically a fey demigod) who came to Prismeer to challenge the Witch Queen and take over the domain to rule benevolently.

Being magic students, the party didn’t know about Iggwilv or Zybilna prior to the story, but the name they discovered in the cottage - Natasha - was familiar to them. She was a powerful mage, and she had a few spells named after her. Including ones some members of the party used. But as far as any of them knew, Natasha, or Tasha as she was better known, had disappeared years ago. Could Iggwilv be Tasha? Or Zybilna? This is what the party had to stew over.

But for now, more dreams.

Where Were They Going Without Ever Knowing Their Name?

Full elves don’t sleep. Well, they can sleep, but they don’t need to. They do meditate though, and during meditation one night in Thither, Artie experienced a vision. In it, he was running through the Feywild being pursued by something.

Slowly, two things became clear: he was in the form of a wolf, and the things pursuing him were also wolves, but they were running with him. He trips, goes tumbling, and reverts to elven form. The other wolves stop and also become pallid elves. They tell him it’s okay, he’ll get the hang of it, and then say they will meet him back home. As the other elves vanish, Artie realizes he doesn’t know what way they went, where he is, or how to get home.

Hakewood has a dream from shortly before he left for Magewood Academy. He’s helping out in his parents’ store, but every time they say his name it’s garbled noise. He wants to go to the academy to learn and make them proud, but his mother seems a little distant and asks why she can’t remember his name.

I had to play on certain themes for each missing item, and for Hakewood and Artie, a sort of family theme started. Artie was getting hints of a place and family he’d forgotten because he didn’t have the means to get there anymore. Hakewood wanted to one day own his own shop like his parents but had no name of his own to differentiate between him and the other Hakewood’s store.

The missing items took so much from the player characters, and exploring that helped to make the story more personal to them. Otherwise, they’re just a bunch of random people saving a far off land in the Feywild because that’s where the plot is.

I Said “Loomchurch” So Many Times and I Don't Know Why

In their travels throughout Thither, the party met a unicorn named Lamorna who was looking for her lost mate, Elidon. She offered her help if they were going to take down Skabatha and also provided additional context for how the Hourglass Coven trapped Zybilna. They had used Elidon’s magic in conjunction with a magical cauldron to freeze time within Zybilna’s palace. Elidon himself might be the key to ending the spell.

The party also met Will of the Feywild, a Peter Pan-like kid who led a group of lost children.

Okay. So. Will of the Feywild. My players learned this in our post-game “fireside chat”, but The Wild Beyond the Witchlight makes a choice about Will of the Feywild that I didn’t allude to and as far as I’m concerned isn’t canon to my campaign. See, Will isn’t a child. Will is actually an oni who used to kidnap kids for Skabatha until one of the other hags changed his alignment, and he took on the Will persona.

I didn’t use this for a number of reasons, but there were two big ones. The first was I was going with the idea that killing the hags would undo some of their curses. The book even states that if Will’s curse is ended, he becomes evil again and attacks the player characters. The second major reason is oni are known in D&D for being magical shape shifting ogrekin who kidnap and eat people. It was difficult for me to go that route and portray Will as a child knowing he was actually an adult monster who used to kidnap and eat kids.

Will told the party that Skabatha or “Granny Nightshade” had several kids locked away in her workshop making toys. This workshop is housed in a fallen tree to the northwest in Thither called Loomlurch. Will also gave them an item he’d stolen from Loomlurch the last time he was there liberating some of Granny’s workers - a unicorn horn.

Well, that bodes poorly for Elidon.

Nevertheless, the party set out to free the remaining children, save Elidon, and defeat Skabatha. Since this was an involved dungeon with complications both in-game and out, I’m going to save that for the next part.

#d&d #d&d 5e #dm #gm #journey into the wild beyond #the wild beyond the witchlight

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mynameisjessejk · 11 months

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But In Our Selves, Beginnings, Part 2

Grim and Torna and Torna’s falcon Duck were camped on the banks of the Whiterath River, ruins old enough that even Torna didn’t know their origins visible on the ridge and a small human village just across the water. Torna had been fishing for days, Duck had caught three rabbits, and Grim had a deer slung over his shoulder as they waited for the ferry in the bright noon light.

“Hail, Rangers,” the ferryman said cheerfully. “Welcome to Doveport.”

“Thanks,” Grim said gladly. “Much obliged,” he added, when the ferryman waved away Grim’s proffered coin.

“Mayor will be glad to see you,” the ferryman said. “Been rumors of trouble out in the hills.”

Grim and Torna exchanged a glance. “We’ll be glad to check it out,” Grim said. “And leave the meat with the butcher, if you have one.”

“We do, and he’ll be glad of the work,” the ferryman said. “Butcher’s down that way,” he added, pointing, as they put ashore. “And the mayor’s in the town center, over the inn.”

“Cheers,” Grim said, and they disembarked.

“Give me the deer,” Torna said. “And go talk to the mayor now, while I deal with the butcher.”

Grim nodded and let her sling the deer over her own shoulder. They parted ways and Grim strode on towards the town center.

“Ranger!” the innkeeper said gladly when Grim entered, his talisman visible on his chest.

Grim nodded. “Take it, you might be the mayor?” he inquired.

The man nodded. “Guesthouse and town hall all at once,” he said brightly. “We’re a small town.”

Grim nodded. “So I see. Ferryman said there’s trouble about?”

The man sawed a hand. “Strange shrieks in the night, according to some of the outlying farmers off to the west, and a few sheep missing.”

Grim nodded. They were far from Gadith Var, to be getting monsters out of the swamps, but it wasn’t entirely unheard of for them to venture out this far, especially since the spread of the swamp past the northern branch of the river. “My partner is trading with your butcher about some game we brought in, but as soon as she’s done we’ll head out there.”

“You’re looking for the Aylmere farm or the Strouds,” the innkeeper offered. “They’ll point you in the right direction.”

“Excellent, thanks,�� Grim said, and settled in at the bar to wait for Torna.

She appeared some five minutes later, Duck on her shoulder, while he was chatting with the mayor about the intricacies of dying wool, and raised an eyebrow at him.

Grim beamed at her. “Torna, this is Mayor Haywarde; he’s head of this village.”

“Well met, Ranger,” Haywarde said, smiling genially at her. “We’re glad you’re here, right enough.”

Torna dipped her head politely. “What’s the story?” she asked.

“Night shrieks, missing sheep,” Grim reported. “We’re looking for the Aylmere or Stroud land.”

Torna nodded.

Haywarde nodded as well, and gestured. “I’ll have dinner kept warm for you.”

“We’re much obliged,” Grim replied. “We’ll be back by nightfall,” he added. “No good facing monsters in the dark.” The Varite monsters were most powerful in the dark, and even a prepared, armed Ranger pair might find the creature hard to dispatch, whereas in direct sunlight, they disintegrated almost easily.

Haywarde waved them off cheerfully enough, and Grim and Torna turned west. Duck lifted easily from Torna’s shoulder and caught a current, arcing higher and higher in lazy spirals.

Workers in the fields were happy enough to shout directions when they felt turned around, and it didn’t take much more than an hour to find themselves on the Stroud land, face to face with Mrs. Stroud, who worked the sheep with her daughter and the daughter’s husband–who’d taken the Stroud name, which tickled Torna’s fancy, judging by her grin.

“Three sheep missing over the last two weeks,” Mrs. Stroud the Elder told them. “Not regular, two nights in a row and then nearly two weeks between.”

“Hmm,” Torna murmured.

“But other families?” Grim asked.

Mrs. Stroud nodded. “The Aylmeres lost four in the same time, and I think the Haileyes lost two, haven’t asked out further.”

Grim nodded. “Where are those lands?” he asked.

“Haileyes are between us and the river,” Mrs. Stroud the Younger said. “And the Aylmeres are north and west of us a bit.”

Grim nodded. “Thank you. We’re going to be tromping around on your grounds a bit,” he said. “But we’ll try to keep from bothering the sheep.”

“Appreciate it, Rangers,” Mrs. Stroud the Elder said placidly. “But if it’s bothered sheep and a dead monster, I’ll take that more than more screams in the night and dead sheep any day.”

“Noted,” Torna said, flashing her teeth companionably.

Grim saluted, and he and Torna turned off the road and into the fields, heading north and west, always.

As they drew away from the road, the terrain turned hillier, and the vegetation grew more and more brushy. “How’s your leg?” Torna asked.

Grim’s bad leg was well braced and felt fine today, though that often changed without warning. “So far so good,” he replied

Torna nodded. They set themselves about ten yards apart, dodged pockets of sheep, and when they came upon a fenceline, they hopped it easily, still heading more west than north.

Eventually, Torna found sign of the creature. She whistled sharply, and Grim tilted towards her. Print-drag-three-day, she signed rapidly. Human-question, he signed back, striding towards her.

Negative, she signed back. “Looks like human, but sideways feet,” she said when he was in earshot without shouting.

Grim stood beside her and stared down at the prints. They did, indeed, look like something was walking with boots on sideways. “Found our monster,” he said wryly.

Torna nodded. They set to following the trail, which wound through a couple of low spots, up one hill, and tumbled neatly down the back of the hill into a dark copse of low, scrubby trees. There was roughly one third of a sheep carcass visible beneath one of the larger trees. “Good day-den for a Varite,” Torna observed.

Grim nodded. “Sure is,” he agreed. Split-circle-ambush-question, he signed. The Varite monsters didn’t have human-intelligence, but they had been known to overhear and throw wrenches in spoken plans nonetheless.

Dangerous-negative-together-outnumber, Torna signed back.

Grim nodded. The sun was high, and a single Varite–which was all that was likely to be here–wasn’t particularly dangerous to a well-prepared pair of Rangers, and the likelihood of it trying to escape was even smaller. Grim had never seen a Varite flee once it had spotted something it considered prey, even if said prey was killing it.

Grim loosened his short-sword in its sheath beside his quiver and then strung his bow with practiced hands. Torna did the same beside him, and they both drew and knocked arrows before venturing any closer to the copse.

Grim took point, because Torna was a better bow-shot and he was faster with his sword, and Torna flanked him, just distant enough that she couldn’t possibly hit him by accident. He approached the tree copse carefully, more worried about his footing in the deep grass than he was about assault from the creature.

It was probably resting or hibernating or whatever Varites did by daylight, and they were likely going to have to roust it unpleasantly from its roost in the trees.

Varites were simply shadow-creatures, vaguely human-shaped, with voids for eyes and mouths, but whatever they were, they did plenty of physical damage. Grim moved slowly, looking for areas of unusual darkness.

There was a shriek, and a shadow-creature, clawed hands extended and lightless void-mouth wide open, flung itself towards Grim.

Torna’s arrow sheared through its head, and Grim released his own shaft, striking where the heart would be on a human.

The shadow dissipated like smoke.

Good-question, Grim signed.

Uncertain-clear-trees-shadow, Torna signed back.

Grim nodded and knocked another arrow and continued his slow perusal of the copse of trees.

Within an hour, it was clear that there were no more Varites in this particular stand of woods, but as the afternoon wore on they did a quick sweep of the lands around, looking for more signs or sheep corpses.

All signs pointed to the one creature being the single problem.

“Lovely,” Grim said. “I love an easy one.”

Torna shook her head at him. “You’re easy to please.”

This was true enough, so Grim didn’t answer. He simply steered them back towards the village to report to the mayor so they could get back to their camp by nightfall, not needing the room after all.

#jessewrites #But In Our Selves #NaNoWriMo

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swamprabbitinn · 7 years

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Swamp Rabbit Inn Trucker Hat

Check out our new SRI Trucker hats!

#Hats #Swamp Rabbit Inn

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tastesoftamriel · 3 years

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Recently found out about thermopolia, places in ancient rome where you could buy quick and easy take-out food or the roman version of fastfood. And I can't help but wonder what each of the Scrolls races would sell at their own thermopolia.

I'm of the opinion that Tamriel would grind to a halt without quick foods to keep us going. Every Province of course has its own specialties, but these are some of the most popular snacks you have to try!

Altmer

Eating on the go is difficult to manage in Summerset. After all, eating with your hands is uncouth, so what is one to do? Ricepaper-wrapped salads are a staple for healthy eating when pressed for time, and can contain any number of ingredients one likes. Common fillings for these ricepaper rolls include lettuce, shredded carrots and cucumber, sweet shrimp, cold roast chicken, and tahini.

Argonians

While Argonians prefer to sit down for a meal with friends and family, sometimes it's necessary to grab a bite before heading into the swamp. Saltrice steamed in banana leaf packages with tasty ingredients on the side makes the ideal portable meal. Each package is water-tight and contains just enough for a single meal, while the banana leaf imparts a great aroma on the saltrice. For something similar, why not try my Blackwood Stuffed Banana Leaves?

Bosmer

Out of all the races, the Wood Elves have truly mastered the art of quick and easy foods to eat on the road. While it's less appetising than other snacks, pemmican, a type of dried meat and tallow patty, is great for filling your belly when you don't have the time for a meal. It can be eaten as is, or is sometimes pre-fried to make a crunchy, meaty snack. More interesting than jerky, and quite nutritious too!

Bretons

High Rock is renowned for its excellent inns, and many of them cater to travellers needing a quick bite to eat. Hot pies and pasties are a Provincial favourite, and they are usually filled with meat and vegetables, though plenty of other variants exist. When I'm in High Rock, I spend a lot of time eating my favourite steak, cheese and onion pasties, or a good steak pie with mushy peas on the side.

Dunmer

Dunmeri traders and travellers for centuries swear by wickwheat rolls, which are soft rolls that are a bit like a cross between puff pastry and rye bread. These rolls are baked with fillings and are easy to bring around with you, and taste great regardless of their temperature. One of the most common variants is a chunky mix of scuttle, hackle-lo leaf, and nix-hound meat paste, which is seasoned with a good amount of herbs and spices. It's meaty and creamy, and sure to keep you sated for some time.

Imperials

There are so many types of snack foods in Cyrodiil that it would take a day and a half to list all of them, but out of all of them, fried bread sandwiches are probably the most common and popular due to their versatility. These aren't sandwiches per se, but are pockets of bread that are flash fried in olive oil after being stuffed with ingredients like cured meats, cheese, tomatoes, and peppers. They are usually served with a topping of fresh salad and shaved pecorino.

Khajiit

Rice rolls, rice rolls, we love rice rolls! These wonderful snacks are easily portable, making them the ideal meal on the go, and they taste great hot or cold too. Fresh fish, vegetables, pickled spicy cabbage, and grilled meat are among the fillings you'll find tightly wrapped in a sizeable tube of seasoned brown rice, which is wrapped again in nori to hold the tube together. Filling and delicious!

Nords

There's nothing better than a fresh hot waffle on a cold day...except for a freshly grilled horker sausage or rabbit meatballs wrapped in a waffle, with a good spoonful of crispy fried onions, juniper berry relish, and strong wholegrain mustard. Eating these gracefully is an impossible task, so remember to pack napkins!

Orcs

Most Orcs prefer sitting down to a meal than a quick lunch on the go, but if you're heading out the door, it doesn't hurt to pack a potato croquette or two. Mashed potato is patted around meat and diced radishes, rolled in panko breadcrumbs, and deep fried until crispy. These greasy treats stay warm for ages when packed in metal lunchboxes, so they're ideal for travellers.

Redguards

The Redguards use folded cactus skins to make takeaway boxes, and their watertight properties mean that it's possible to pack soups quickly and easily for eating on the go. A goat meatball stew drizzled with yoghurt and honey is a nomad's favourite dish as it contains all the nutrition you need to stay alive in the inhospitable Alik'r for extended periods of time. The lid also acts as a way to eat your soup without sand getting in- just slurp it through a straw! You can also try my Pack Guar Pide for a Hammerfell-style street food favourite!

#Asks #Thermopolia #Food #Fast food #Tes #The Elder Scrolls #world building #worldbuilding #Tastes of Tamriel #tastesoftamriel #Recipe #Recipes #Cooking

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tonguetiedraven · 3 years

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🩹 ☕ 🛏️

I feel a little basic 😂

Basic can be a lot of fun!

Thank you for the prompt <3 I went with Bonrin (let me know if you wanted something else) and I hope you enjoy it.

🩹 tending to each other's wounds

☕ reluctant allies

🛏 only one bed

-- -- -- -- --

“Shut the hell up,” Bon grunted, shoving the door to the ratty looking hotel open. They were almost certainly going to catch some disease here. Hell, it was probably swarming with demons. At least Rin probably outranked them and would scare them off or intimidate them into submission, his being the son of Satan and all.

Shit, Bon couldn’t believe he’d known Rin for months and that hadn’t come up. He couldn’t believe he’d fought beside Rin, bled beside him, stood up against monsters and stupid practices and —

And fallen a bit for him. That he’d almost kissed him after dragging him out of that bug-infested swamp because he was so damn happy that Rin was okay and that the chuchi hadn’t managed to choke the life out of the idiot while Bon had been trying to get him free. It had freaked him out a bit, and now he was just…

Angry.

“Will not!” Rin snapped, entirely indignant and gratingly loud like always. “You’re still bleeding, Suguro!”

No duh. That’s what happened when you got slashed in the side by a naberius. Well, that’s what happened when you were a human anyway. He couldn’t help but notice Rin’s cuts had already healed just fine.

“Then at least be quieter about it,” Bon hissed back. He twisted away from the person manning the front desk, and with a grit of his teeth, he tugged his coat shut and buttoned it up so it covered the blood and the wound. Rin followed suit with his own coat.

Forcing his expression into something a little less murderous and pained, he turned back towards the front desk and made his way over.

“Hi,” he grit out, trying not to use any more air than necessary so his chest didn’t expand and press the wound against his coat, “we need two rooms.”

The man eyed them both skeptically. “Yeah? You each got four thousand yen?”

Why the hell was it so much for this dumpster fire of an inn? He didn’t have that much on him. He had a little over two thousand. He didn’t like their chances of finding a hostel out here, and even if they did, Rin wouldn’t be able to hide in one of those. Not with the tail. He’d—

Shit.

Bon eyed Rin and motioned for the man to give them a moment. “Hey,” he muttered, glaring at the ground and so angry that his choices were this or staying up all night at some manga shop, “how much do you have on you?”

“Two thousand and fifty yen.” Rin whispered back like he didn’t actually want to say the words.

Bon sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. Great. Turning back to the man, he tried not to glare and wasn’t sure he managed it. “One room. Overnight.”

The man nodded like that was what he had expected, and everything in Bon wanted to punch something. “Yeah. Alright. Let’s see some id.”

“Do you have vending machines?” Rin added as he passed his id and half the money.

The man eyed Rin, and suddenly squinted like he didn’t quite like what he saw. Bon’s heart jumped in immediate alarm.

“Nevermind,” he interrupted, taking his id back and snatching the key up. “I’m sure we’ll find it all just fine.” He grabbed Rin’s shoulder and jerked him back away from the desk and man. Rin scowled but followed.

“Thought I told you to be quiet.”

“And I said I wouldn’t. You’re bleeding through your coat. You’re gonna need something to replace all that. Yukio always made me drink coconut water. He said it was the best. You should eat too.”

Why did Rin need to know what to drink to replace blood?

(No. He wasn’t going down that rabbit hole. He didn’t need to be thinking about Rin. Rin didn’t trust him and probably never had, and he shouldn’t exactly trust Rin after everything…)

Bon found the door to their room without another word and unlocked it. Shoving it open, he glanced inside and found that it had one of those entrance hall things that meant you couldn’t really see the room until you’d passed the bathroom.

Bathroom. That was what he needed first. Thank you Shiemi for being paranoid and making everyone carry the ghoul kit.

Bon sucked in a painful breath and limped his way towards the bathroom. Rin watched him go with a frown, worrying his bottom lip between two damned fangs that Bon couldn’t believe he’d never noticed before. They just… they stuck out so much.

Man, the naberius cuts stung like a bitch. He wasn’t sure what sort of ghouls the demon had once been, but the final result of that stitched up monstrosity had been heinous in everyway, and he was not looking forward to the nightmares it was guaranteed to bring.

Rin followed him into the bathroom, still biting his lip. Bon decided to ignore him. He set his bag on the sink and carefully set to peeling his coat and shirt off. Every move hurt.

“Here,” Rin shuffled forward and grabbed the hem of his shirt unexpectedly. Bon’s breath hitched at the sudden warm brush of Rin’s fingers against his waist, “let me help.”

Jerk away, part of his brain ordered. The rest told him to stand still. He wanted to pretend that was a fear instinct, but it sure as hell wasn’t.

Not when Rin’s knuckles brushed along his back warmly, barely grazing him and leaving a trail of fire in its wake. For a wild moment, he didn’t notice the cuts. A wild and rebellious part of himself wanted to lean back into that gentle touch. It wanted to take comfort from Rin and just forget that he was upset. (With good reason!)

He stayed still instead, staring at himself in the mirror and the spot where Rin’s head was barely peeking over Bon’s shoulder. Just a mop of messy dark hair.

Bon swallowed and dropped his eyes to the sink. His hand was bloody. Was it his blood, Rin’s, or the naberius?

The shirt was lifted over his head, and he tossed it to the side to rinse out later.

“Shit,” Rin grunted, “why didn’t you say it had gotten you across the shoulders too?”

Honestly, everything had been hurting and he wasn’t entirely sure where all he’d been hit. Finishing the stupid verse and getting out had seemed more important than keeping stock of just where all he was bleeding.

“You didn’t ask,” he grumbled instead. Opening the bag, he peered inside and let out a relieved breath when he saw that Shiemi had added the aloe wipes. At least he wouldn’t die via ghoul temp taint.

“Did it hit you anywhere else?” Rin growled. Bon glanced up and almost jumped when he saw a flicker of flame in Rin’s hair.

“Not—” he swallowed, voice a little thick with something that was either fright or… or something he wasn’t going to think about. At all. “—Not that I remember.”

Rin snatched up the aloe wipe with an angry motion, and Bon tensed in anticipation of the rough touch and pain. Instead, Rin barely pressed the wipe against the angry marks on his shoulder. The medicinal sting was there, but there was no sting from the wound being messed with.

Tossing the soiled wipe, Rin grabbed a new one. “Turn around, I gotta get your side too.”

“I can do it.”

“Tough. Turn around.” Bon stubbornly held still. Rin growled low in his throat. “I’m not asking again.”

Ugh. Bon went ahead and turned before the warm twist in his gut could get any worse.

Rin didn’t meet his eyes. He just glared at the ugly cuts across Bon’s waist. Rin’s warm hands gently cleaned those as well, and Bon kept his eyes on the bloody cuts so he didn’t do something tremendously stupid like kissing this infuriatingly complicated boy.

“Who did you used to patch up?” He asked instead.

Rin made an unhappy noise. “Yuki. We’d patch each other up. People kinda sucked where I’m from.”

“Sucked where I was from as well. Maybe it’s just kids.”

Rin snorted. “Yeah.” He tossed the wipe. “I don’t know the spell Shiemi used.”

“That was enough. It’ll heal without infecting. Just gotta make sure I lie on my other side tonight. Don’t want to aggravate anything.”

Rin laughed and grabbed the bandages. “You aggravate something?”

What?! “Hey!”

Rin laughed again. Hard enough that his fangs showed. “Your face!” he cackled.

Bon snatched the bandages out of his hand and jerked them open. “Shut up!” He did not need Rin’s laugh making these complicated feelings worse. He stuck the bandage to his side with rougher movements than he needed to distract himself, and Rin promptly batted his hands away. “Hey, I can do it myself.”

“You’re gonna make it worse.”

Bon glared and tried to shove him away to absolutely no avail. Right. The son of Satan had super strength.

Damn it.

“Isn’t your twin the doctor?” He crossed his arms over his chest defensively and promptly regretted the action when it pulled at his shoulder painfully. He ignored the pain and glared at the dirty wall. There wasn’t even a shower in this place. Why had it cost so much?

“Already told ya I used to patch him up.” Rin gently smoothed the bandage on and turned him around to get at the shoulder. “Drop your arms.”

Bon did because he didn’t need Rin threatening to make him do it in that voice again.

“Alright,” Rin stated when he finished. “I’m gonna go find the vending machine and get us some food.”

“With fifty yen?”

Rin shrugged. “Sure.”

He was gone before Bon could tell him that wasn’t going to work.

Turning back to the sink, Bon turned the tap on and rinsed off his hands. He splashed some cold water on his face, and stared at himself in the mirror. He was pale and he looked miserable, which, yeah.

He rinsed his shirt as well as he could and left it hanging on the hook by the door to dry. At that point he left the bathroom and realized that there was a bigger problem than Rin trying to find dinner for fifty yen.

There was only one bed, and not a particularly big one at that. Worse, there wasn’t enough room around the bed for either of them to sleep. He wasn’t even sure how they had managed to wedge the thing in here with the small amount of space, and really, why had it cost so much?

“Found it!” Rin crowed with a bang of the door. He jogged in with arms full of far more food than he could possibly buy for fifty yen and stopped when Bon didn’t move. “What’s up?”

“Uh,” Bon swallowed, somewhere between wanting to laugh and entirely horrified. “We only got one bed.”

Rin peered around his arm. “Huh? But that doesn’t— what the hell?”

Bon shifted aside so he could get in the small space. He was going to have to share a bed with Rin. With the boy who he’d been passive-aggressively fighting with for the last week, and the boy he kinda-sort liked before everything. (He was not going to admit that he still kinda-sorta liked Rin.)

“Oh.” Rin slipped further into the room and set the food on the bed because there wasn’t room to put it anywhere else.

Right. Bon would just ignore that until he couldn’t.

Rin made him drink two of the coconut waters, and he made him eat an instant ramen and an oden. Rin ate two containers of popcorn and some ramen as well. Bon decided against asking how he had paid for it, because he was positive Rin hadn’t.

And finally, there was nothing to do but acknowledge the one bed thing.

“You gotta stay on your left side since you got all banged up, so you can have dibs,” Rin said casually as he tugged his own coat and shirt off. Bon stared wide eyed for a shocked moment before he realized he was staring. He blinked, promptly turned his head with a blush, and stared at the wall instead.

“Uh. I’ll take the right.”

Rin’s tail uncoiled from around his chest and Bon’s breath caught painfully in his throat. He shoved himself onto the bed instead of focusing on that and laid down as carefully as he could. Rin joined him and laid on his side as well since there wasn’t quite enough room for him to lay on his back.

It put their faces right next to each other. Like, breath sharing close to each other. Bon could count the colors in Rin’s eyes (had his pupils always been a little red?) close to each other.

Bon tried to shift back, but it was the edge of the bed.

“No,” he grunted, “this isn’t gonna work. Roll over or something.”

“Ye-yeah.” Rin swallowed, Bon tried and failed not to watch his throat bob, “that’s… yeah.” Rin shifted off the bed and flipped so he was on his other side with his back to Bon.

And his ass was entirely too close and how was this just as bad? How was Rin’s hair all soft looking and citrusy smelling when they’d spent the night fighting ghoul? Bon’s hair was a mess.

Bon forced his eyes closed and told himself he was not going to think about the fact that he was almost spooning this boy. That he could feel Rin’s warmth and hear him breathing. He blew out his own breath instead and tried very hard to think of nothing.

“It’s too quiet.” Rin mumbled.

“Go to sleep. It’s supposed to be quiet.” He’d normally play chants but their phones hadn’t made it through the fight.

Rin shifted on the bed, and his tail flicked across Bon’s leg. He couldn’t stop from flinching in surprise, and he could feel Rin wilt at that action.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not, I don’t care about the tail. It’s just kinda easy to forget? Surprised me.”

Rin laughed wryly. “Yeah, you don’t care alright.”

Bon’s eyes sprang open in indignation. “What the hell do ya mean by that?”

Rin sat up and turned the light off. “Kinda obvious, Suguro. I don’t care. Hate me or whatever. Everyone does. It doesn’t matter. I’m still gonna become the Paladin and I’m still gonna defeat Satan.”

It was said with so much finality, so much acceptance, that Bon didn’t know what to say for a long moment. He just laid there in the dark with Rin a few centimeters away, tense and upset, and holding his tail so it didn’t touch Bon.

“I don’t hate you.”

Rin started to shift but aborted the motion. “Since when?”

“I hated you that first day, and I haven’t since.” Not since Rin dove in front of a reaper. Not since Rin stood up definitely in front of everyone and heedless of the laughs, declared that he was going to do the same thing Bon wanted to do.

“Yeah you do.”

“You don’t get to tell me how I feel,” he snapped, irrationally angry and tired and sore, and so frustrated with everything. “I’m mad, but it ain’t hate.” It was hurt. It was an angry hurt that everything had ended up like this and that Rin had kept something so dangerous a secret and now he wasn’t sure what to say or how to say it. “Just go to sleep. Focus on your breathing. It’ll give you something to listen to.”

Bon closed his own eyes and tried not to think about how close and frustratingly far away Rin was.

“You don’t hate me?” Rin asked in a small, timid voice.

And just like that, the anger was gone and left just an empty kind of sorrow in its wake. “No, Okumura, I don’t hate ya.”

Rin didn’t say anything else for a long time. Long enough that Bon thought he’d gone asleep. He focused on his own breathing and started to let himself give into the lull of sleep.

Rin let go of his tail, and this time, when it flicked across Bon’s leg, he didn’t flinch away.

(When he woke up curled around Rin, he didn’t say anything. He just closed his eyes and held Rin until he woke up.)

— — — — — —

Available on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35458600/chapters/88408756

#bonrin #aoex #blue exorcist #bonfire #ryuji suguro #rin okumura #bonxrin #bon suguro #my tumblr fics #ryuuji suguro #ao no exorcist #there was only one bed #bon needs some meditation time #and rin needs to let people cope with big reveals before bugging them #they'll figure it out pretty soon ;)#still behind #but i'm getting to the others #promise

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officerjennie · 3 years

Text

Grief

CW: MCD, alcohol abuse, mentions of wanting to commit suicide, canon typical injuries. Ship: Lambden. WC: 7.4k+

Brief Summary: Aiden dies and Lambert suffers for it.

Denial

It wasn’t until the next summer that Lambert knew what had become of him.

Spring had always been their time of the year. At the end of winter, before the snow had even properly cleared from the path, Lambert was the first to leave Kaer Morhen behind. The trek was treacherous, slick with melting ice that would freeze over during the nights, proper footing hard to find and starving creatures more than willing to test their fading strength against anything that moved in a desperate attempt to keep living. Lambert’s blade was stained with blood by the time he made it to the first town on his path - the first one that accepted witcher patrons at their inn, at the very least - and it took him a good hour to properly sharpen and clean it in the flickering candlelight of his room.

That spring, there was a pit in his stomach that grew with each step he took. Nerves, thoughts he didn’t want to think, things he didn’t want to have bogging down his already fucked life. For the first time in a long while he didn’t envy Geralt and Eskel’s affinity with animals, preferring the slow trek as he headed to the coast, towards a small fishing village that saw his face near the beginning of each and every year.

With each step, that pit grew and hardened, his hand shaking as it gripped the sword at his back. Lambert paused several different times, taking detours, taking missions he didn’t need to take and spending an extra night in a brothel despite how little interest he really had in the woman he’d chosen to spend time with - all to waste time, to keep the coast from coming into view over the hills that surrounded it.

It still came into view. He stood on the same hill he did every single spring, smelling the damned dandelions and clovers that covered it, salt carried on the wind to greet him along with the sound of gentle water on sand. With a deep breath he took it all in but it did nothing for the shake of his hands, did nothing to make it any easier to take that next step forward.

The people all knew him, or at least knew of him. Children still stared at him like he might toss them to a harpy if given a chance but he was fine with it, fine with that, kept them out of his way and out of the danger that haunted a witcher’s footsteps. But the people knew him and knew he wasn’t there to cause more trouble than necessary, for the most part leaving him be as he walked the rather quiet streets towards the noise and bustle of the early morning fish market.

Crowds weren’t his thing, but Aiden loved them. He’d asked him once why he loved this little village so damned much, Lambert himself seeing it as nothing more than the next, and had been surprised when he got an honest and rather vulnerable answer.

“Reminds me of home,” the cat witcher had said, no faux humor to tint his wistful tone, his eyes on the fisherman that shouted and tossed their catch from their carts. It had reminded Lambert of nothing but the reek of fish guts, his face turning as much as his stomach, and yet…

And yet, here he was, making his way past the bustle of the fisherman once more. Their early catch was tossed here and there, the reek of dead and still dying fish heavy on the air, his nose and tongue both regretting every step that he took down the slick streets. Some of the men knew him and nodded his way though it was no friendly greeting, just a greeting, just something to acknowledge that he was there and existed. He did not nod back.

It was the outskirts of town where he was headed, down to the little beach just passed where all of the fishermen docked their fishing boats and hung their nets for the little ones to fix up. They were already busy at work, their little fingers no doubt pruning up as they stitched any holes that might have been made in the netting, some far too short to work on the whole netting, their hands showing the speed of familiarity with the tasks. Lambert watched as he walked past, as he always did, a little mesmerized with the simplicity of the hard work that civilians took part in.

A life he would never know. He readjusted his sword on his back, its weight a constant in his life, feeling the sand move beneath him as he made his way to their little beach.

The same rock as always stood waiting for him, just outside of the reach of the high tide. He didn’t climb up on it - that was Aiden’s spot when he got their first, as he did so many of the years. The cat witcher would sit cross-legged on the rock, not caring that it was damp, his daggers still strapped to his hip save one which he would use to peel an orange as he waited. The oranges were never ripe this time of year but he always managed to have one, a mischievous glint to his eye as he fed himself the fruit on the sharp blade, his dark brown eyes sharp as they caught sight of the wolf.

“About time, little Lamb,” he’d always say, just to get a rise out of the younger man. His braids would sometimes be disheveled by the ocean breeze, the scars on his face stretching from his grin, fangs showing and almost shining in the sunlight.

Aiden always looked like he belonged here. Lambert never did. He leaned against the rock, arms crossed as he stared up at the sky, taking the time to watch the clouds roll over head as he waited for him to show up.

By late evening, Lambert knew it would not be that day. His nausea had not left him. If Aiden had been there, he would have weaseled them a place to stay with one of the fishermen’s families, always able to get his way, always able to convince anyone of anything - but Aiden was not there, and Lambert had no real liking for people.

He camped out in one of the trees nearby, not bothered with a fire despite the chill in the wind, hardly able to sleep with his hands and legs refusing to stay still.

The next day, he had to hunt for food, refusing to touch the fish that already invaded every one of his senses. It was the work of but a few minutes to find enough small game to tide him over, Lambert building a small fire just at the edge of the beach to cook it over, keeping an eye on the rock while he slowly turned a few skinned rabbits over the flames - rabbits he barely touched despite how he knew he needed the food.

By the end of the week, he had grown restless out of boredom, having to travel to the next town over to find some sort of contract to keep his hands busy. Hunting down a troll by himself wasn’t always the wisest decision but it ended up being a younger one, inexperienced, felled easily enough and filled his coin purse enough for a few pints and a warm, soft woman to keep his bed company for the night.

Spring was heavy in the region before Lambert finally gave up waiting, no hint of his kitty cat in sight, his nerves back in full force for another reason beyond their last conversation. His heart was a bit heavy as he left the fishing village and all of its occupants behind, heading down further south, wondering if he’d run into Aiden later that year or if he’d have to wait until the next spring before he saw him again.

It was a coincidence, he told himself, that brought him to where they’d parted early the fall before. Not concern that brought him there, not concern that had made him hesitate either, the journey of naught but two weeks taking him all the way until mid-summer to greet the hills that he’d seen Aiden stroll down as he walked away from him, a forced tune on his lips as he’d twirled one of his daggers between his fingers - his anger showing.

“A witcher?”

The innkeep’s good eye pinned Lambert in place where he was leaned forward on the bar, Lambert’s fingers twitching, unable to stay still. As the man cleaned one of his mugs he seemed to chew the question over in his head, grey beard sticking to the condensation on the outside of the mug, the entire place around them mostly quiet and stinking of the seedy clientele that usually inhabited it.

And Lambert would know, given Aiden and him had been there not a year before. Had stayed here off and on for over a month, getting into fights whenever it pleased them, grinning as they were kicked out of the place at last, falling in a drunken stupor of laughter over each other as they carried themselves away to make camp in the woods nearby.

But as far as he could tell, this old man’s memory was nothing. He didn’t give any hint of remembering Lambert as he put his still dirty mugs away, turning to wipe the counter with the same rag, making Lambert grow impatient for his answer.

“We’ve had a few around these parts before,” the old man said at last, jerking his head to the side as he caught sight of a fly. He swatted it with the rag and continued to clean, not looking up at Lambert as he spoke to him. “Besides you, there were a couple last year. One stuck around longer than the other.”

“How long?” Not that the information would do him much good, but it was all he had to go off of - if the old fart remembered at all.

“A few days,” the man shrugged, continuing as if his words meant nothing, “the rest of his life, turns out.”

He stopped after that. Stopped as if that was the end of the story, wiping his counters like the smudges weren’t stains soaked into the wood that no one could ever clean - but that couldn’t be. Lambert shook his head, running a hand through his short hair - that couldn’t be the end of the story.

“Better finish talking if you want to keep your head, old man.” He growled it but it wasn’t anger that had his heart picking up its pace, and no matter how much he blinked Lambert couldn’t seem to focus on anything.

“Found the body by the swamp.” The words were distant despite the man’s closeness, but there was a ringing growing in his ears that made the world seem far away. “Didn’t have much use for a witcher’s body, or what was left of it. We don’t bury what’s not our own.”

The man spat, and Lambert found himself escorted out of town by sword point. He couldn’t recall how many of them he hurt on his way out, but he’d never forget the sound of that old man’s nose breaking under his knuckles.

Anger

‘By the swamp’. It was cold and wet, the air thick with the stench of rotting things. Lambert had waded in and out of the waters, some up to his waist, most not past his shins but every bit of it clinging to him and weighing him down. He was soaked through to the bone and shivering but he’d been shivering when he got there, his hands shaking and no amount of clenching his fists able to stop it.

It wasn’t very good direction to go off of, ‘by the swamp’. He could have been searching for hours and hours (and he would have been, there would have been no stopping him from tearing every inch of the swamp apart to prove the old man wrong, this wasn’t the end) but eventually part of his mind caught up with him.

Aiden had been about to hunt something. A troll, maybe, or maybe it had been a chimera - fuck, Lambert stopped to lean against a tree and think, stepping up onto its protruding roots to get out of the cold water for a moment.

He’d been hunting something. Lambert held his face in one hand and breathed, telling the rest of his thoughts to quiet themselves so he could focus on where his friend had been going - because Aiden had told him, he was certain of it, exactly where this beast had been.

It took longer than a moment, but he remembered, and hopped off the roots to once again wade further into the swamp.

The southern border was where the beast had been hunting and picking off civilians. It wasn’t a contract that had brought Aiden there but a necessity for some potion or another; Aiden had loved dabbling in that sort of thing, crafting his own concoctions that the sight alone of made Lambert’s stomach turn.

Lambert could stomach a lot of things, but actual poison was a bit beyond his limit. And there was no doubt in his mind that some of the shit his friend had thrown together was going to kill him some day.

Would have- no. Lambert took a deep breath through his nose but it did nothing for the rolling of his stomach, his thoughts turning to nothing but a dark cloud as he waded through the afternoon into the evening.

Eventually, he found his way through the swamp. All the way through, his feet now mostly on solid ground, the area covered in the stale scent of a troll - a troll that was no longer here, as evidenced by the bones he eventually found, the corpse long since rotted away to nothing. Didn’t mean the smell was gone. It made his nose twitch but he’d smelled worse, seen a lot worse too, but he kicked some of the bones for good measure just to hear them snap.

They weren’t right by the water’s edge. A good thirty meters away, give or take; Lambert looked around but saw little evidence of a fight here, no matter that time would have eroded most of it away. Still, some destruction told the stumbling path of a dying troll and he followed it, not sure what good it would do but having to know.

It hadn’t made it far. Though its body was gone Lambert could guess, if his friend had indeed faced the troll, that it was poison that did it in. That was if…

No. This wasn’t the end. He shoved over a leaning tree that had been nearly cracked in half before, hitting it hard enough for it to finally snap and crash down into the swamp, taking down branches of surrounding trees as it went and disturbing the wildlife around him.

Maybe he was more violent than he thought. His fist clenched and unclenched, wanting nothing more than to continue on with idiotic, needless destruction - but he put the need behind him, letting his hand rest at the hilt of his sword for now, the promise keeping his nerves calm as he stepped over some weather dampened debris.

It took the rest of the evening to find him.

No body was left for him to find. The clothes were barely there, barely recognizable in their torn and shredded state. Scavengers had picked the body clean and barely left any bones, and most of what was left of him - of what had been him - had sunken into the mud and earth.

Lambert knelt next to the place where someone had died. Fingers trembled as he reached out to touch what had once been a part of his armor - a shoulder pad, thick and sturdy, meant to take hits and oh, it had taken many over the decades.

No weapons left. Lambert looked around, the swamp quiet save for the ringing that grew in volume, not even the wind registering as he noticed not a coin purse nor a sword nor even a single one of the many throwing knives that used to glint in the sun as Aiden threw them with deadly precision at his enemies. They’d glittered just like his feral grin, sharp and always hitting their mark just like his words, his dark eyes not even narrowing in his anger as he tore anyone apart who dared to think his cheerful grin or lighthearted demeanor an easy target.

Nothing was left now.

It didn’t mean it was him. Lambert swallowed and wiped at his blurring vision. A body looked like a body, like any of the rest, especially when it was so eroded and scavenged away. It could have been any fool in armor no matter that it might look like his armor: leather scraps strewn here and there, the same black buckles that strapped it onto his chest, a few pieces of the over abundance of belts that Lambert had made fun of him for over the years.

He leaned back on the balls of his feet, running a hand once again through his hair. There wasn’t even enough evidence to suggest it was a witcher, specifically. No potions nor smells left, time having taken that evidence with it, and without any of that it could have been anyone. Anyone could have died out here, slaughtered by a troll that they pissed off. It could have been anyone.

But something caught in the fading sunlight, something silver and shaped like a coin connected to a broken chain, and it was not just anyone who had faced the troll and died for it.

Lambert broke the rest of the troll’s bones, but it did nothing to clear his vision.

Bargaining

It was possible that time could have helped heal his wounds, but time had never been kind to him.

Lambert hid the medallion in one of his pockets, never letting it leave him but refusing to look at it. And over the years that’s where it stayed, weighing heavy in his hand whenever he felt the need to hold it, grip it, squeeze his hold on it until its dull edges bit into his palm and made him bleed. It didn’t matter how long had passed - years, he knew that much, but how many he could not recall. All the springs and winters bled into the next, the rest of the year meaningless, his only counter for it all being when he had to leave to meet his brothers, when he should leave to go to the coast…

The first time his feet took him to the coast, he almost broke the rock. Their rock. It broke his fist when he’d hit it and he left a sizable crack along its side, a crack that he touched with ginger fingers that had nothing to do with the pain shooting straight up his arm. Fingers that shook like his breaths and could not even hold sand, let alone grip onto the past that left him cold and alone.

Nothing he did would take it back. Bring it back.

He tried being alone. Avoiding everyone he could, not taking a single contract for over a year and a half, living off of nothing but the land and his own anger that fueled his hunts. Trolls stood no chance against him, every single one of them he sniffed out and slaughtered like the last, not caring that they were sentient beings and knew nothing of what caused his rage.

It didn’t matter. They didn’t matter. He could feel his friend’s disappointment in him growing.

Lambert tried not being alone.

“You’ll be joining us, then?” Geralt’s bard had too loud of a voice for such an early morning, his hair curly and wild in a way that made Lambert regret his choices. His chattering on and on made his knuckles grow white where it gripped the table in front of him - but this would be good for him, would be good for the emptiness that took him some nights.

And the too much that filled his days.

Geralt rode Roach, as he always did, a little ways ahead of them as they marched down the path. For his part Jaskier trounced about the place, too much energy, too loud and too carefree and always too much. It wasn’t as if Lambert had never been in his presence before - before, he had known him. Had met him and thought the bard was just another cute face, even flirted once or twice just because he liked the lack of fear that flashed across most humans’ expressions when he dared to speak to them, but he’d known long before Geralt and Jaskier had become a thing that his brother wanted him.

So Lambert had known Jaskier and his ways. Hadn’t minded his voice back then, how his laughter was quick and easy, how his words could be barbed and as sharp as throwing knives. How his hair curled just like undone braids that the air had caught and caused to go wild. Back then, he hadn’t minded.

Now he couldn’t make his thoughts stop.

Months dragged on. Summer came and started to go, and the bard made his skin itch and his hands sweat. There were whole nights he couldn’t sleep so he forced Geralt to let him keep watch instead, knowing the looks his brother gave him but ignoring them all the same. Just as he ignored the whispering when Jaskier thought he was out of earshot.

“Is he alright? He’s been so quiet.” Lambert’s jaw tightened as he sharpened his weapons at the edge of their camp, the bard’s back turned to him, Geralt nudging his shoulder in lieu of a verbal response.

“When was the last time he slept?” It had been three nights but Lambert didn’t tell the lark that, continuing on climbing up in the tree to at least avoid their eyes, letting them think whatever they’d like.

“Geralt, I’m worried about him-”

“Leave it be, Jaskier.”

On and on, for weeks on end. Pitying eyes following his movements as if he was a child and didn’t notice them, the never ending humming in the mix, that bright laugh and wide grin making him want to rip his hair out.

It was too much. And it was made all the worse when Geralt had to go track down some beast on his own, leaving Lambert there to protect his bard, not able to escape his chatter or worrying looks.

“I’ve really enjoyed you traveling with us this year.” Jaskier plopped down on the same rotting log as him, not caring that it would stain his expensive clothes, a genuine smile on his lips that made Lambert want to snarl at him. “Not that I don’t adore traveling with Geralt alone - he might be a right arse when he wants to be, difficult to talk to at times, comes back reeking of monster guts and certainly doesn’t enjoy the finer things in life, and...hmm, where was I going with this?”

“Away from here, I hope.”

“Oh, right, yes!” Jaskier snapped his fingers, ignoring Lambert’s sharp comment and leaning towards him, the glint in his eyes making him nauseous. “It’s just nice to have someone else around for a while. Especially someone who gets him in ways I can’t, you know? I adore him, I really do, but it doesn’t matter how much I tell him that if he won’t let me in. With you, well...he trusts you. Trusts you to not hate or judge him, or shrink away when he comes back all hyped up on potions. Doesn’t matter how many times I tell him I won’t, there’s always a...hesitance, in the way he approaches me.

“It’s just...nice to see him relax, and not worry about those sorts of things.”

Lambert didn’t know why he was being told all of this. Didn’t care, just wanted the bard to leave him alone. He stared at him until he stopped talking, watching the way the lark sighed wistfully, catching the longing in his gaze as he stared off in the direction Geralt had trudged away into an hour before.

What had he done to deserve this?

“I think it’s good for you, too, Lamb.”

Lambert went ridged, body tensed and fingers suddenly clawing into the log beneath them. ‘Little Lamb’, his memories purred at him, sharp teeth glistening at the end of a laugh - and he hated it, hated everything about this damn bard, his carefree nature hiding his sharp tongue and the damn tunes he never stopped humming and the knife he carried at his hip-

“Don’t fucking call me that,” he spat, and he didn’t stick around to hear anymore, his eyes wild and his heart racing with the rush of memories trying to over take him. Some part of him heard Jaskier’s surprise but he couldn’t process his words, jerking away from their log, leaving in a rush and breaking out into a sprint the moment he was out of sight.

He didn’t know how long he ran. His lungs were burning, his cheeks raw from branches clawing at him in his haste, burned by the tears he didn’t want to admit were spilling down his face. But eventually Lambert had to stop, doubling over as it all finally took over, leaving him sobbing and screaming in anger at the memories - because that’s all they would ever be now. The past, trapped in his mind, poisoning him from within.

Lambert was too far away to hear the chort that found their camp. Even if he had heard it he would not have reached Jaskier in time to protect him, the bard’s screaming reaching no one, luck being the only thing that saved him from death that night. But his injuries were great and he would never walk without a limp again - and the grave, betrayed look in Geralt’s eyes when Lambert at last returned to them told the truth they all knew:

It was his fault.

Depression

No amount of gull would drown out the truth, but Lambert tried his best despite that. Inn after inn, tavern after tavern, spending coin he didn’t own himself to make his thoughts stop and his chest from caving in on itself. Sticky fingers he’d learned from one of the many he refused to think of, swiping coin purses and hating the stir in his gut at the knowledge that the very man who taught him this would be disappointed in him for using it.

‘Thought better of you, little Lamb.’ He heard the words as he drank himself into a stupor in a dark corner of some shady inn, not even aware of what town he was in anymore; they all bled into the rest, faces meaningless and lost to him, all the continent the same without a person to meet up with and make it mean something.

He’d betrayed his own brother’s trust. Lambert laid his head on the table, not caring about the grim and spilled drink there, his own half-empty glass tipping and leaving the short hairs on his head wet with drink.

All he’d been charged with was watching the bard, and he couldn’t even do that. Left him on his own when he’d known danger was in the area, and now he’d live the rest of his life with a pain no magic they’d found could fully take away from him. After he’d swore to stay there, protect him, he’d left him-

Lambert swayed on his feet when he jolted up, the walk from his table to the bar a blur. He didn’t bother walking back, half laying on the bar when his drink arrived, downing it and not even noticing most of it spilled down his front.

Hadn’t even stuck around to face his foolish mistake. Didn’t even give Geralt the time to chew his ear off, had just. Left the both of them. Left them there and avoided the both of them like a bloody coward, only knowing the extent of his mistake a year later when he’d run into Eskel on the path.

Jaskier couldn’t make it up the mountain to winter with them, and Geralt had stayed behind with him - and Lambert had been too drunk in some tavern near the coast to realize winter had come and went.

The drinks eventually stopped coming but he wasn’t aware enough to even realize it, his coin purse as empty as the five others he’d dumped the contents of onto the slick wood of bars across the country, his woes never going quiet but the pain being dulled like his senses.

His fault. His head swam even against the cold grain of the wood his cheek was pressed against, even with his eyes shut tight. ‘Such a loyal wolf,’ his memory supplied, a hand soft on his chest, calloused fingers tracing the scars there. ‘Why’d you take that for me, hmm?’

Lambert sniffed, choking back the emotions that were supposed to be deafened and dulled by the gull that filled his stomach so full it hurt, raising his head just enough to hold it up with his hand.

“It’s who I am,” he gruffed out to no one - but it was a lie. It’s who he was, once, loyal to a fault, loyal to the point of self detriment.

Who was he now?

Acceptance

Aiden was dead.

Lambert knew this, accepted it, hated himself for it. There was nothing he could do to change that and he found himself too much of a coward to join him, though he wished to, desperately wanted to as the inn beds stayed cold at his side.

He traveled alone, save for the scattered moments where he ran into Eskel and allowed the other wolf to join him. Though the memories flooded him at times their contents became hazy. Hearing a tune that was almost familiar could still bring him to his knees but he forgot what Aiden’s voice sounded like, the exact shade of brown his eyes and hair were, what his last words to him were. And when he lost the cat medallion that he’d hidden in one of his pockets he almost didn’t have it in him to feel the grief anymore, hands shaking as he searched and searched to no avail, breaths quickening but the tears refusing to come.

Slowly, the memories left him. No longer plagued him and that was a poison of its own, forgetting. But some things never left him alone.

He’d become a liar. A thief. A betrayer. Geralt never trusted him again, not to the extent he used to, and Lambert accepted that because there was nothing else he could do - he had betrayed him and doubted himself for it, knowing it was possible he would do it again.

It was easier to avoid them all. Live life out on his own, hardly heading home for the winter, sending brief letters instead that bore no further information than him being alive and mostly unharmed. And that was how Lambert lived for a long, long time: on the path, alone, stealing coin whenever he felt the need to, lying his way through the continent and holding no one close to him.

Vesemir had long passed, gone one winter when he fought a leshen that was too quick for him. Geralt went not long after his bard, heart broken and unable to go on, leaving two wolves left and one that refused to return to the keep. Eskel took over the care of Kaer Morhen and was the only one there to read Lambert’s brief letters, but eventually he, too, was taken by time, Lambert’s letters being delivered to an empty keep that caved in from the unkept snow on the rooftop.

He knew he was alone, but sent them anyway, his only connection to who he used to be, the life he once had. And one spring even found him following that familiar path to the coast, the fishing village a ghost town of crumbling houses and the forest taking it over - but his rock, their rock, was still there, jutting out onto the beach.

As he smoothed his hand on their rock, he thought about his friend. The one he’d loved and never confessed his feelings for, the one whose laugh and smile he couldn’t remember. The one who he knew had a quicksilver tongue but for the life of him he couldn’t remember anything he’d said, who’d been irresistible and insatiable yet Lambert could not remember any specifics of their times laying together.

He remembered him like a vague notion of a feeling he’d once had, and his heart and chest ached for the absence - because he could not remember him. But what did it matter, in the end, when Aiden would never recognize who he’d become.

Mistakes

In the quiet of their shared inn room, the dust thick in the air, sunlight barely peeking through the windows at that early hour, Lambert found it...difficult to pretend anymore.

They lay naked together, the blanket just barely resting above Aiden’s hips, the bruises and teeth marks Lambert had covered him in the night before already faded and gone. Lambert was always the early riser between the two of them; Aiden could sleep the whole afternoon away if allowed, his eyes fluttering as he dreamed, dark lashes touching dark brown skin as his breaths ghosted across Lambert’s chest.

It made Lambert’s heart ache. One of the summers of his youth Vesemir had taken him aside, Lambert’s cheeks stained with hot and angry tears, his tiny fists at his side as Vesemir tried to calm him down.

“You feel so much, little pup,” the old wolf had told him, rough hand on the top of his head to keep him grounded in place.

And he was right, damn him. Lambert felt too much, and it ached, and he wished he could swallow it all down and forget and feel nothing like the humans said.

He had nowhere to keep his hands but on Aiden’s body, holding him as he waited for his friend to wake, aware of every inch of their bodies as the seconds passed like minutes.

It was sex. Nothing more. And that was fine.

Except apparently it wasn’t.

Aiden slept in too long and had to be forcefully pried away from Lambert’s body, the cat witcher whining that he was warm while Lambert griped and bitched that they had shit to do. Once that mischievous glint in Aiden’s eyes returned and he remarked that Lambert was near the top of his to-do list, Lambert unceremoniously dumped him right on the floor, leaving his friend cackling in his wake as he hurriedly got ready and stormed out of their room.

A morning like any other. Bar fight got them kicked out of the inn with the threat to never step foot in there again, Lambert’s cheek barely stinging from the pitiful punch the drunken bastard had managed to land on him - only because Aiden had purposely distracted him just for a laugh, which they both shared as they left town, hanging off each other like they were the ones too drunk to hold themselves up.

Their friendship was why Lambert refused to acknowledge anything more. Why it was enough, why he shoved any fluttering heartbeats out of his mind. He groped his friend’s rather sinful arse just to see Aiden’s teeth, his friend whipping around so fast the silver beads worked into his braids almost smacked him in the face.

Aiden was on him a moment later. It was always an equal toss up how he would react: would he tackle Lambert and attempt to wrestle him to the ground, lethe body belying his strength, determined to ‘teach Lambert a lesson’ full of teeth and one very memorable evening including a knife that ended up carving a deep scar into his shin; or would he pin him against a tree, holding him there and not letting him move, teeth accompanied by a wicked tongue that could leave Lambert whimpering as easily as those skillful fingers that loved to dance across his skin.

Lambert loved both equally, and Aiden wouldn’t have let him keep his hand if he didn’t love it too.

“Still feeling frisky, little Lamb?”

Lambert scowled over at his friend as he readjusted his clothing, not bothering to tell him to shove it at the nickname - it had never worked before, and likely it would just give Aiden ideas. But he had been caught ogling, unable to help himself even after they’d frotted against each other right there on the path where anyone and their mother could have walked up on them. He was still hot just from the thought, his soiled smalls speaking just to how frisky he’d been feeling when Aiden had pinned him.

“Can’t waste the whole day away, kitty cat.” He risked patting Aiden’s arse one more time, ducking away from the knife swipe aimed right at his head, jogging ahead with a laugh, his chest lighter then than it had been in years.

This was enough. What he had, what they had between them. Traveling together as the path stretched onward, taking turns keeping watch as rain deafened the forest around their night campsite, picking up in the morning with a tune on Aiden’s lips that was sung in a tongue Lambert knew not a word of.

“I’d like to kiss you.”

Lambert cocked his head as he straightened back up from where he’d been rolling up his bedroll, finding for once Aiden’s eyes held no humor in them at the offer. He couldn’t name what he saw in them then, but it made his heart pick up in rhythm, made his tongue thick in his throat when he said, “then kiss me.”

But Aiden didn’t. Didn’t make a single move towards him, leaning back on his heels, dark eyes staring off to the side far away from him as he frowned.

“I want it to mean something.” Aiden licked his lips, a nervous tick, something sheepish in the way he tilted his head to mirror Lambert’s own expression. “More than what it usually does. I want…”

He was hesitating, not saying what Lambert both never wanted to hear and suddenly realized he’d wanted to hear for the longest damned time. It made his hands tremor, his throat suddenly feeling tight - but it was all too much so he clamped down on the feelings trying to override everything, shaking his head and turning away from his friend, refusing to look at him.

“Isn’t it enough?” It had to be, it was, he didn’t need to think and overthink everything they said, everything they did around each other. He didn’t need to know why his tongue got tied when he made Aiden laugh - that genuine, surprised laugh that he only managed to hear on very rare occasions - why he couldn’t keep his hands still when Aiden was sitting near him, why he felt so much it felt like he could drown if he let it all go.

He didn’t need that. It terrified him, the thought of drowning in his own feelings, and the last thing he needed was to drown in them right in front of his friend.

“You,” Aiden started, and Lambert didn’t dare to look up at him, “don’t want…”

“I want what we have.” His words were a bit rushed, his movements jerky as he shoved his bedroll into his pack, not bothering to roll it up neat and tidy like he usually did. “I like what we have. Isn’t that enough?”

“Right, yeah. Of course it is.”

He did look up then, and hated himself for it. Because he would never forget the pain he saw - in the way Aiden refused to look back at him, his head ducking down, the shake of the breath he took as he turned away from him.

Lambert swore to himself then and there that he’d think on it later. Not there, not then, but later, when he could sit by himself alone and let the feelings come as slowly as he could manage so they wouldn’t overtake him.

The rest of the morning was spent mostly in silence. It stretched between them like a fresh wound, sharp and throbbing at the edges, making Lambert grind his teeth and wish his friend had said nothing at all. As unfair as it was to blame him - and he wasn’t blaming him, it wasn’t his fault Lambert was so damned skittish about his own feelings and couldn’t hold them back for the life of him - he couldn’t help but wish the morning hadn’t happened at all.

By afternoon, they’d reached the town over, Aiden heading quickly off to see if there were any contracts and Lambert for once not at all eager to follow him. He piddled about here and there, not even feeling like pissing off some bastard for an excuse to punch someone’s teeth in, ending up taking too long staring at armor sets at the local blacksmiths that he really had no interest in buying.

Without having said a word to each other, they both met at the local tavern that afternoon, arriving in the same half hour and sitting further in the corner than they usually would. Gull was drunk in mostly quiet, a few words shared here and there, and Lambert’s heart ached at the tension between them.

“Found a decent one.” Aiden eyed the bottom of his empty glass, in the end pushing it away with a sigh. “There’s a troll not twenty miles from here. Shouldn’t be too difficult with the two of us.”

And Lambert would usually go right along with him. Any other day he would be at his side, traveling the path, hunting down trolls and clearing out drowners and fighting battles with the most fearsome of leshens.

But he was feeling too much, and it was all but a centimeter from the surface, threatening to spill over and never get cleaned back up. And Lambert wasn’t ready for that.

“I think I’ll actually head down south.” He said it slow, a little quiet, clearing his throat after as if he hadn’t meant for it to be a whisper. “Want to get some warmth in me and there sure as hell ain’t any around here. Think you can handle one measly troll on your own?”

Aiden wasn’t fooled, and his hurt wasn’t veiled, but Lambert would make it up to him. His friend still sent him a sharp grin as he waved over his shoulder, leaving the tavern and Lambert behind, and Lambert drank enough gull that night for the both of them.

He needed time. Lambert dropped his head on one hand when his vision swayed - or was that his body? It was hard to tell and the old shit of an innkeep wasn’t letting him order any more gull either, leaving Lambert to drag himself up to a room he hadn’t meant to rent to begin with.

Time. Just a little bit of time to himself, to think on it, think it all over and figure out how the fuck to feel so much without- without, fuck, he didn’t even know anymore. The world was swimming around him and the bed was so alluring he didn’t even take off his armor or weapons before dropping heavy on it, laying across it the wrong way on top of the blanket while his head tried its best to stop spinning.

At least there was that for him. Time. He took a deep breath and let everything settle: his head, the way his body felt like it was swaying while still laying down, his thoughts, the bursting feeling in his chest.

All he needed was a little time, and he’d make it up to Aiden. Sit him down and tell him things and maybe even let himself feel, and they could maybe, maybe, talk about the possibilities of more. Aiden had a quick and dangerous temper but they were closer to each other than anyone else in either of their worlds, so there was...a chance, and it was one Lambert would take - later.

Time was all he needed, and he had that. They both had plenty of that ahead of them.

#lambden #lambert #aiden #the witcher #fanfiction #mywriting #the cry off challenge #lambert/aiden #aiden/lambert #lambert x aiden #aiden x lambert

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ghostbread892 · 4 years

Text

Fly with me

Pairing: Geralt x jaskier

Warnings: Near death experience, Love confession, Fluff, Oblivious boys, Roach has the braincell, Hurt/comfort, Soft jaskier, hurt geralt

A/N: I really liked this one and I hope you guys do too-

Summary: Jaskier throws his lute into the mud to distract the monster that about to kill geralt and it ends up needing to get repaired, chaos ensues and unknown feelings come to light

During his time on the path, Geralt never got to experience the little things life created. He only focused on getting coin and never being in the same place twice, he knew that if he stayed in the same place for too long someone would eventually grow tired of him and kick him out like many villages before had done, he had gotten used to the rinse and repeat routine he'd established for decades. He never truly got to experience what it was like to wake up calm, inhaling the scent of freshly bloomed flowers and the natural scent of the air after a long rainstorm like he had been able to do today. He knew this morning would be different, and in time he would realize that his whole day would be different as well.

He woke up to the sounds of singing and lute strings being plucked, his chest filled with relief that his bard hadn't been taken during his slumber. Something which he would've been able to notice but he feared he would be too slow to save him. He paused and went back over his inner dialogue again, 𝙝𝙞𝙨 bard, he'd gotten so used to this tiny human that his brain had claimed him already. This brought a warm feeling to his heart and made an unusual flush take over his normally stoic features.

No no, the bard wasn't his, as much as he would like that, the bard wasn't his to claim and even if he was, who in their right mind would love someone as monstrous as him. That thought brought a sour taste to his mouth, so he pushed it back and started getting their camp packed up, already thinking of where to head next and what monsters he would find in these parts.

They reach a village by dusk; Jaskier having been extra talkative and excited the whole day, but Geralt couldn't seem to figure out why which annoyed him to no end due to possibly not knowing or forgetting a special day for his bard. He paused again, the blush returning to his neck as he thought of the bard being his before he clenched his jaw and scoffed, as if a human could ever love a witcher. He continued walking whilst trying to keep his mind off Jaskier, which proved to be more difficult than it should've been. He ended up quietly talking to Roach as they made their way over to the closest inn, completely unaware of how Jaskier had gone quiet and was staring at his witcher with a lovestruck expression.

When they reached the inn he motioned Jaskier to go in to get them a room and food, while he saw to Roach and left her as comfortable as their coin could leave her, and checked for any contracts.

He found one for a fiend in the woods behind the tavern opposite of the inn and took it, he then made his way up to their room using his senses to locate jaskiers specific scent. One that he'd grown to love and that often calmed him when he woke up sweating and panting from a nightmare of the fears that haunted him as a child and that still haunt him even in his decades of life.

Once he got there he put his packs down before sitting down on the small table near the fireplace to eat the food Jaskier had got them, which was a mug of watered down ale that tasted like swamp water and a bowl of rabbit stew that had way too many unseasoned vegetables and hardly any rabbit, but it was enough to fill him up for his hunt so he ate it. Not before giving Jaskier an amused look as he went into a speech about how inns should be more greatful of their guests and give them better food, he chipped in now and then to correct Jaskier about small things just to watch him flush a soft pink, looking alarmed before continuing with his rant.

When he finished his food Jaskier was still rambling so he took a moment to look at his companion; the companion who has cornflower blue eyes that beam whenever Geralt brings him small gifts like lute strings or oils for his collection, who has hands that he fidgets with when he's nervous and shake when he's inspired to write something but too busy too get his book out, who's smile never fails to make Geralts world brighter even after seeing it for a decade, who's words still leave him speechless when he talks about something he likes because goddamn Jaskier knows how to treat each word with such gentleness that it could melt his heart, who sings away his sorrows and helps Geralt remember what happiness and joy feel like whenever he talks, the companion who has stayed by his side through ups and downs, and the companion that Geralt found himself loving more every single day.

He snaps out of his lovestruck haze when he smells the foul stench of fear and worry.

Looking up to see Jaskier reading through the contract with a frown on his face before looking up and sighing "Beloved, are you sure this is safe? I mean I know you're strong enough and trust your judgement but this sounds very dangerous and as much as I like having coin I wouldn't want to ruin my clothes, which were very expensive mind you, by going to drag you out of whatever hole you fell in and thats-"

He stops when Geralt gives him a fond look, "Jask I'll be fine, it's not that hard, I'll be back by daybreak" He rumbles out, seeing how it visibly affects his bard, making him shiver in place and gulp roughly, causing him swallow out of the sudden dryness in his throat.

He shakes the thoughts out of his head before getting up to grab everything he needs for his hunt, not looking over at Jaskiers direction on purpose because he needs to be focused.

He can feel Jaskiers eyes on him the entire time and can basically taste the worry radiating off him like the stench of a kikimora but he doesn't have time to calm him down. Even if Jaskier is the love of his life, his soulmate, his everything, he can't put his focus on anything else other than the monster of he'll be too slow.

Just as he's heading out the door he feels two arms wrap around his stomach and Jaskier press himself as close as their bodies allow him too. Geralt feels his heart stop, just as he feels his lungs collapse from emotion, his brain not capable of processing that for the first time in all the years he's been alive someone is holding him, someone fears that he may never come back and that scares them. He can feel Jaskiers heart accelerate just as he can feel his own.

"Please be careful, dear heart" Jaskier whispers, sounding like a wife saying goodbye to her husband who's about to go save his kingdom in the battlefield. It makes him feel special, wanted, 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙙.

He takes a moment to calm both himself and his heart before humming softly in confirmation, "I'll be back by daybreak, I promise, little lark" He quietly grumbles back, not used to having to express his emotions through words.

Jaskier seems satisfied with his answer and let's him go, not before leaving a kiss on Geralts shoulder blade, even if it was covered with armor Geralt felt the kiss in his soul and it gave him more of a reason to come back to his little lark.

He walks out of their room and towards the stables, setting up roach for the long night of monster hunting ahead of them. He let's out a small smile and gently pats her nose to which she huffs and pushes against his hand, making him chuckle softly, "let's go girl" and with that they take off, not knowing that this night might end with something neither him or Roach had planned.

He doesn't know how it happened.

One moment he was landing the killing strike and the next he was on the ground, a gash made from its horns going right along his chest to his ribs.

He knows he's too weak too get up and without his potions, which were shattered mid battle he has nothing to do but wait.

He starts thinking about everything he's every done. Kind of ironic since they say your life flashes before your eyes as you take your last breath. To him it sure feels like it.

He thinks back to when his mother left him on the road for Vesimir to find and train as a Witcher. How much he had to endure during the trails just to end up alone in the end.

Alone? That's not right; he has Jaskier now. Jaskier who's probably worried sick back in their room, who even when Geralt has looked more beast than man has smiled at him, not showing any fear even when Geralt spat nasty words at him to get him to leave, who even after Geralt hurt him, came back because he wanted to, because he wanted Geralt to be the person he spends his life with.

Geralt had never felt more joy than being with Jaskier when they would travel together, his bard chattering like always while Geralt listened, listened because he cared and loved everything about Jaskier.

From the way his eyes crinkle with happiness when he sees something pretty, to when he taps his fingers to a beat when composing his next song.

He knows Jaskier will move on, his bard is one of the strongest and most courageous person he has ever had the luck of meeting.

His little lark will find someone else who can always be there for him, not having to worry about dying every minute, and that Geralt thinks, is how it should be. He let's a small tear slip as he's falling unconscious, not worried in the slightest because he knows that his lark will learn to fly again, even without him.

When he woke up again there was someone screaming and a monster weakly roaring.

It turns out that the fiend was still alive and that Jaskier was trying to distract it, that dumb bard was trying to distract a fucking flesh eating monster without a sword to protect himself.

Geralt doesn't know what fueled him but the next thing he knows is that Jaskier throws his lute far away, catching the fiends attention long enough for Geralt to get close enough to slice it's head clean off.

After he collapses, Jaskier being faster and catching the Witcher in his arms. He can feel jaskier shaking and something wet splashing on his face.

"Jask- Jaskier?" He rasped out after jaskier forced one of his potions down his throat, him already feeling the effects of the potion healing him.

Jaskier shushes him, snifling softly while rocking them both back and forth, "You stupid, stupid Witcher, I told you to be careful" He whispered while holding Geralt to his chest, in an awkward position too.

Then Geralt realizes something; his lark is listening to his heart. This hits Geralt harder than it should but it does, his lark was so afraid of losing him that he wanted to lay his head on top of Geralts heart. As if listening to the beat made everything better.

This realization made something warm spread throughout Geralts chest. He lifted his arm and hugged his bard back as much as he could, softly stroking through his hair.

"It's okay little lark, I'm here, you can let it out" He whispered, knowing that Jaskier was holding back his tears and even if he couldn't bear the thought of his lark crying, he had to let him get the grief off his chest before they could walk back to their room.

As if on cue, Jaskier started to sob, gripping tightly onto Geralts chest plates as if he thought that if he let go, Geralt would disappear.

After a while, they got up and headed back to the inn with the proof of the monster being dead, Jaskiers destroyed lute, and whatever they could salvage from the fiend.

After they got to their room and had a bath is when Geralt realized what happened to Jaskiers lute. He softly put his hand on top of Jaskiers, which was stroking his now dirty lute.

"You shouldn't have risked your life like that for me, jask" He whispered softly, looking down at the dirty lute and wincing, because be knew this was his fault. Jaskier on the other hand seemed offended by that comment, "No no, you do not get to play that card with me Witcher, you almost died out there and I wasn't just going to sit around and watch you die like that" He said in defiance, his face twisting into a frown that only made him cuter in Geralts eyes.

"You love that lute like a child, little lark" He spoke quietly as if afraid to get Jaskier mad at him. At his words, Jaskier softened,

"So that's what this is about huh?" He asked in a softer tone, "Geralt, while it is true that I love this lute a lot, it is replaceable and there are so many just like this one all over the world." He turned to look at Geralt, letting the lute lean on the bed frame as he took Geralts hands in his. Which left Geralt breathless at the softness, he never experienced something so intimate and his brain almost went into shut down mode before he managed to calm himself down.

Jaskier gazed into Geralts eyes, letting him see all the love and adoration he felt for his dear Witcher, "The reason I love this lute so much, is because you gave it to me, darling" He smiled, his thumb rubbing Geralts hands soothingly as he felt his lungs collapse from how hard those words punched him.

"What? " He breathed out, unable to form a clear sentence in his daze.

"Granted, you didn't directly give it to me, but it's a reminder of the first adventure we went on together" He paused and squared his shoulders leaning in to press his forehead against Geralts, and softly, sweetly, and so gently that Geralt thought he might collapse he said, "A reminder of when I started to fall in love with you, my white wolf"

And with that sentence everything became clear, after four decades of traveling together, everything made sense. He knew now that he wasn't alone on this boat of love, softly drifting with the current through calm waters, watching as the sun sets and the flowers bloom.

He leaned in, closing the gap between them, sharing the sweetest kiss he'd ever been given and that when he knew that even if they had their ups and downs, close calls, and awkward moments; they would both rely on each other and learn to fly together, because in the end, his little lark still had a lot to learn about life, and he would be there to teach him every step of the way.

Taglist: @binkysteebnpewter @andyl394 @fuzzy-cloud-head-queen @nightunite @punof-agun @sc4rletw1tch @timelords-13 @likubuju @bonkyboinkybucky @bombshellbella @subtlewriter @ashleefo @mori-senpai @klinenovakwinchester

#the witcher #geralt z rivii #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #witcher geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt x dandelion #geralt x julian #jaskier

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tinyphantomsalad · 4 years

Text

I did a drabble

okay it’s pretty damn long so get ready but I wrote this ages ago and c a n n o t just leave it

Word Count: 3,700

Rated: G

Fandom: The Witcher

It’s under the cut so you don’t have to scroll 10 minutes

Riptide

Yes i know just go with it.

The summer breeze was warm and the clouds were only just beginning to form, waking up the earth with a soft touch on the cheek and a warm kiss on the head. Jaskier strummed along to the chirps of the morning songbirds, smugly ignoring Geralt’s glare.

“Keep looking at me like that and your eyes’ll go funny” Jaskier said, rolling his eyes and focusing on the smell of the wildflowers in the meadow and the growing warmth in his chest from being on the road again.

“Hm.” Geralt replied, brow raised, “you’re not a morning person,”

“bullshit!” Jaskier smirked, “I’m always a delight in the morning!”

The Witcher’s eyes widened comically, “you nearly stabbed me last time I woke you up to leave early,”

“That was your own fault-“ he scoffed “I was having a lovely dream at that time and you interrupted it.”

Geralt let a small laugh slip and Jaskier joined in, continuing his little melody as they walked through the field.

Geralt had found him after the mountain and much to Jaskier’s indignation the Witcher had found him and actually apologised. He hadn’t forgiven him easily but when Geralt was leaving the following morning he’d wordlessly packed his things and started travelling with the man once more. Slowly but surely they’d fallen into old patterns, and Jaskier couldn’t find it in himself to be angry anymore.

“Where are we going again?” Jaskier asked,

“There’s a town not far from here.” Geralt replied, rifling through his satchel and producing a flier- Jaskier skimmed it- Witcher needed- Spider-like demon- plenty of coin- the usual.

“You’re staying at the inn this time.” Geralt said, not looking at the bard. Jaskier huffed, picked up his pace and spinned to face Geralt.

The tall grass parted and swayed in the growing wind, making his white hair blow in the way you’d think he’d put a spell on it to always look so fabulous.

“Come on Geralt! I need new material, new inspiration to give to the people of the Continent.” He whirled around, still gripping onto is ever precious lute and letting himself punctuate every sentence with a sudden movement.

“Our adventures are the stuff of legend!” He continued, not caring for the ever-deepening crease in Geralt’s brow. “I once met a fortune teller when i was a kid- told me I’d make a great many impacts on people's lives, and that my magic was tucked away inside my voice… don't know where the magic bit came from but then again she did tell me I’d lose my head one day-”

“I guess she got that part right then.” Geralt quipped, raising an eyebrow,

Jaskier spluttered, face scrunching in indignation, “you wound me! Geralt of Rivia I had never thought you could hurt me in such a way!” Jaskier put the back of his hand to his head, feigning offence.

Geralt would deny it to the day he died that he let a chuckle slip.

“I’ll see you’re punished for that,” Jaskier sniffed with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, Geralt groaned.

Jaskier began to strum a tune, one he hadn’t since he first composed it… it was new and he didn’t really think it was worth much. But he was annoying Geralt and that’s all that he needed it for.

“I was scared of dentists and the dark

I was scared of pretty girls and starting conversations

Oh, all my friends are turning green

You're the magician's assistant in their dreams~”

His voice carried out over the meadow that stretched for miles around them, Jaskier kept fast paced with his song, energy building up inside him.

“Oh

Oh and they come unstuck~

Lady, running down to the riptide

Taken away to the dark side

I wanna be your left hand man

I love you when you're singing that song and

I got a lump in my throat 'cause

You're gonna sing the words wrong~”

He threw a wink to Geralt, letting the imaginary beat guide him through the lyrics that don’t really make sense but tell a story he can’t explain. He didn’t know what he was thinking when he wrote it… well, maybe he did, casting a glance to his muse- but those feelings weren’t something he wanted to revisit right now.

He carried on singing the whole way through the field, skipping and throwing his arms where he thought appropriate (which was everywhere). He let out a triumphant squeal when he caught Geralt swaying along to it-

“YOU DID!”

“I did not,” he growled back, sitting stock still on top of Roach, who neighed in agreement.

Jaskier’s smile hurt his cheeks, holding his lute over his head, “I CLAIM THIS INSTRUMENT TO HOLD THE MOST POWERFUL MAGIC IN ALL THE CONTINENT!” He cried, “THIS IS THE ONLY INSTRUMENT TO EVER MAKE THE GREAT WHITE WOLF, GERALT OF RIVIA, WITCHER AND BUTCHER OF BLAVIKEN- TO DO A JIG!”

“It was not a jig- I do not fucking jig, Jaskier!” Geralt shook his head and growled as the hyperactive bard pranced around the field ahead of him, laughing like a drunk in the wee hours of the morning.

Jaskier finally calmed down as it reached midday. The warm air beginning to stick to them. They walked at the side of a small river, a signpost pointing them to the little town with the Kikimora problem.

“I haven’t heard that song before,” Geralt asked suddenly, he looked down at his companion who didn’t return his gaze,

“It’s new, I wrote it a little after we started travelling together again. I mean- I suppose it’s not that new considering that was six months ago but I guess since I’ve never performed it-”

“You should sing it tonight.” Geralt said, “no- don’t look at me like tha- Jaskier!”

It was too late.

Jaskier squealed.

“YOU LIKE IT!”

“Hm.”

“Oh shush,” Jaskier smiled, “You big softie.”

“Hm.”

Jaskier moved closer to Roach and patted her neck as they walked, his lute bouncing on his shoulder; he knew he was being insufferable- but that was Geralt’s fault for waking him up at sparrow fart to get going and he was in too good a mood to be grumpy all day.

The road they were going down was quiet, Jaskier watched as a rabbit flew in front of them and in his enthrallment nearly bumped into Roach who whipped him with her tail,

“Not nice- bad horse, no apples.” Jaskier grumbled. Roach snuffed in reply as they carried on.

“I need a bath,” Jaskier leaned towards Geralt and gave a sniff before gagging, “and so do you, Gods Geralt, you stink of onions,”

Geralt scowled at him, “I thought you said I smelled like death and destiny or whatever the fuck that was,” he grumbled,

Jaskier rubbed his eyes and coughed for dramatic effect, “nope, definitely onions-ow!”

Geralt suppressed a smirk and tucked his leather glove back into his bag.

:::

It was nearing early evening when they reached the town, it was smaller than what Geralt had originally thought- more a hamlet to be completely honest. The river they had been travelling next to turned into a muddy swamp.

The streets were dirty and there were very few people out, the buildings sagged to one side looking as though a good shove would be enough to topple them completely. But still, there was a shoddy inn on the end of a row of lopsided huts with a stable next to it for Roach.

Geralt pretended to listen to whatever Jaskier was saying about the state of his eighth favourite doublet -A stain, Geralt- this is madness, utter madness- while handing his beloved mare to the shit-scared stable boy that looked up at him with wide, dull blue eyes.

They weren’t as blue as Jaskier’s, more faded, like old stained glass- Jaskier’s were brighter… more alive.

Geralt shook the thought from his head and stepped into the dim light of the inn. All conversation ceased as everyone caught sight of the Witcher, their smiles flicking and the stench of fear spiking in the air. No matter how hard anyone tried they would never forget what he was. A mutant and a monster. That didn’t matter, he was used to this and he was there to do a job and get out as quickly and as quietly as possible.

Jaskier had other plans.

The man was like a walking ball of talking and singing and sunshine. Which when paired with alcohol was a very dangerous mix. Geralt tried not to hit his head against the bar as Jaskier walked in, lute in hand, wildflower in his hair and greet everyone in the tavern as if they were old friends.

“Ladies, gentleman, people of…” he trailed off, a pink tinge forming on his cheeks- there was a bit of an awkward silence while the poor man struggled, eventually giving up and diving into Toss a Coin to Your Witcher. Geralt resisted the urge to smile as a few of the patrons tapped along or flicked a few coins in his direction.

Jaskier winked at him from across the room that said Don’t wait up.

Geralt turned to the barkeep, who eyed him warily, “ale. And a room” He dumped the last of their coin on the table for two days.

The man, who was only a few inches shorter than Geralt himself with a bushy brown beard and polished head, pushed him a full mug before clearing his throat.

“If you’re looking for a… job…Kal-” he pointed to a sallow man sitting in the corner, head buried in his flask. “His daughter was taken by something in the swamps…”

The man didn’t give any other information- instead taking the opportunity to offer up as little information as possible and getting away as quickly as he could. Typical. Geralt didn’t really know why humans shied away from him- maybe having something to do with being a mutated monster that could hogtie and castrate them in thirty seconds flat on a bad day. Yeah, maybe that.

Geralt twisted in his seat, trying his best not to laugh as Jaskier jumped up on an unoccupied table and played conductor as a rising corus of slightly drunk patrons. The sun was setting outside the window, casting a gold glow behind the bard’s face, catching him in his element- all rosy cheeks and bright eyes.

It hadn’t escaped Geralt’s notice that Jaskier was attractive, anyone with eyes could see that. But when he was like this, it made Geralt’s stone heart do funny little things in his chest. Fucking Jaskier, making him feel things.

When he’d been with Yennefer it was always too much. Too much fight, too much secrecy. She was a force to be reckoned with on her own and wanted to keep it that way, and then he went and made that fucking wish and all hope for any romance had been thrown out the window. After he’d apologised to Jaskier he’d felt more comfortable than he ever had with Yen in their relationship.

It didn’t help that Jaskier and Yen had somehow bonded over the incident on the mountain- if anything it made him worry more, when they were fighting it was them against each other, but now they teamed up against him.

“I just wanna, I just wanna know

If you're gonna, if you're gonna stay

I just gotta, I just gotta know

I can't have it, I can't have it any other way

I swear she's destined for the screen

Closest thing to Michelle Pfeiffer that you've ever seen, oh~”

Jaskier’s voice flitted over the crowd like a sparrow in the early morning. His new song was nice, it bounced and was usually upbeat. It almost had Geralt tapping his foot. Almost.

A mug of ale flies across the room and the alarmed twang of Jaskier’s lute causes Geralt’s hand to fly to his sword. Jaskier’s face went pale as an enraged cry came from the other end of the tavern and he practically leaps from the table to hide behind Geralt’s back.

“BARD!” A pot-bellied man burst forward from a crowd of patrons, his robes disheveled from pushing past the crow that had formed.

“Geralt- old friend,” Jaskier mumbled in his ear, sending little tingles down his sp- nope. “Do me a favour and fucking help me.”

The old man advanced on them, shaking a pudgy sausage finger and practically convulsing with rage, Geralt’s hand didn’t leave its spot on his sword,

“I’ve told you once before that I do not play bodyguard.”

“Bullshit Geralt- oh dear gods save me.”

“I know you!” The pug-faced man snarled, eyes not having left the trembling bard, “you- you- defiled my wife! And- and my son!”

“Hm.” Was all Geralt replied, feeling the way Jaskier practically molded himself against the witcher’s back in order to peek over his shoulder, gripping onto his lute for dear life. The man bared his yellowing teeth in an attempt to look intimidating. The crows that had been cheering Jaskier on now formed around them, all waiting to see the great White Wolf lash out at this poor unfortunate soul that Jaskier had wronged by being a horny dumbass.

There was a beat of silence before the man reached around and snatched Jaskier’s beloved lute out of his hands. Promptly snapping it in two.

The bard let out a strangled cry. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Geralt slowly stepped to the side, as calmly as he would when stalking a deer.

There were times in their long partnership, where Geralt had learned not to get involved. There were three rules:

One: Never Wake Jaskier Before Dawn.

Two: Never Let Jaskier Have More Than Four Pints of Ale.

Three: Don't mess With Jaskier’s Lute.

Jaskier’s relationship with his lute would rival that of himself and Roach.

They were so getting kicked out of this town.

With a satisfying crunch the man stumbled back with blood gushing from his nose.

“Jaskier-” He started in some attempt to quell his anger, the bard didn’t listen. Jaskier grabbed at his clothes and with one swift sent him doubling over. Geralt could smell the adrenaline rising in the room. Onlookers starved of any entertainment and eager to watch.

Another drink went flying and knocked a young man round the head- how that was relevant Geralt would never know. Ensuing a blind fist fight with Jaskier in the middle. Several tables toppled over and a cacophony of shouts suffocated the bar.

Geralt pressed himself back into the shadows. Looking out for the tornado of periwinkle blue in an attempt to make sure the fucking idiot didn’t get himself killed.

“Suck on that!” Jaskier’s voice cut through the rest, he sent another blow to the scorned man, a few cuts gracing his lip and forehead. “Just like your fucking son did!”

Geralt growled and stepped out of the shadows, drawing his sword and stalking towards the bard. The noise died down almost immediately, everyone stopping in their tracks at the sight of a very angry Witcher.

“Hm.” Geralt glowered at the crowd, “Go home. We are here to complete contracts. Not get into petty fights.” He threw a pointed look at Jaskier.

Geralt turned to the man that had a disgusting crust of drying blood on his mouth and broken nose, “the bard will surely compensate you by never returning to this town once our business here is complete. And Jaskier you horny little bastard-” he scowled at him, “will avoid this place like the plague. I will not be bailing you out anymore.”

Jaskier grumbled and nodded. The man huffed and stalked out of the inn. The patrons slowly went back to their tables and righted themselves. However the stench of fear still hung heavy in the air. The innkeeper threw him a grateful look as Geralt grabbed Jaskier by the neck and dragged him up to their room.

:::

“Now now Geralt I’m sure you- Oh dear Gods man- what are- Geralt!” Jaskier was helpless against the Witcher’s manhandling. Geralt just growled. It’s all he ever did. Jaskier cradled his lute, oh his darling, beautiful lute. He was dragged up the stairs like a scolded child, pouting and all.

“You are an idiot.”

Jaskier let out a choked sob “Oh my darling girl… you were so young.”

“Jaskier.”

“I’ll dedicate a ballad to you my love-“

“Jaskier!”

“One that will sing through the echoes of time and be etched into the walls of hist-”

“JASKIER!”

“Fuck sake Geralt let a man grieve.”

Geralt grumbled and went to the adjoining washroom to get a wet rag. Jaskier trailed his fingers over the snapped neck of his instrument, his head was sore from being hit, and his knuckles were no better.

“You look terrible.” Geralt said gruffly from the washroom doorway

Jaskier scowled and stuck out his bottom lip, albeit he was being a little childish but that was merited considering he was going through a grievous loss.

“And you look like royalty do you?”

“Hm.” Geralt walks over and for a moment Jaskier thinks that Geralt is going to tend to his wounds like in those terribly written stories he used to catch his sister reading.

Instead he gets a face full of dirty wet rag.

Fucking Witchers.

The room was nicer than the rest of the inn, Jaskier guessed the innkeeper had given them his own room- which he was not complaining about in the slightest. Geralt had made a nice little nest for himself by the fire and was cleaning his weapons with the whetstone he kept in his satchel of mysterious Witcher things that he never let Jaskier look inside.

It was too quiet without his lute. She was like his sword, his only weapon in a cruel world full of midnight creatures that crept into the minds of men. The last time he had been without a lute was after he’d left home, and that had been in an attempt to hide himself behind a persona. Said persona turned out to be a lot more likeable than who he used to be, so he kept it, let the little parts of himself bleed into this new man through his music- then he met Geralt and… well he found he didn’t think about his past as much as he used to. Not when he was travelling with him.

So he filled the space with mindless chatter.

“We have to go into the market tomorrow- did you see it, Geralt? I suppose I’ll find a new lute. Maybe even paint it this time… I doubt that it’ll ever be as good to replace my dear sweet love… but she would want me to move on I suppose.” He gave a fake sniff, lying back on the bed and admiring the man by the firelight. It had gotten dark and the fire created a halo around Geralt, making him look angelic.

“Are all Witchers like you?” Jaskier asked absentmindedly,

“Some have quieter companions.” Geralt said, not looking up from his task.

“Yeah well it must suck to be them.” He retorted, catching that little smirk Geralt sent his way. “You’ve told me very little about what your life was like before we met…”

Geralt just grunted in response. Jaskier rolled his eyes,

“Alright then, since you’re clearly not in the mood for sparkling conversation- how about I ask you five questions?”

“What?”

Jaskier bounced off the bed, getting giddy because oh ho ho, this is going to be fun. He settled himself next to Geralt, propping up a pillow on the Witcher’s side and leaning with his back on it. The closeness was intoxicating and it didn’t help the fact that he was practically drooling over the man’s jawline.

“Five questions,” he hummed, “I ask you five questions and you have to answer them honestly.”

Geralt quirked an eyebrow, Jaskier had learnt that this meant I got that, what the fuck in Geralt language.

“You get to ask me five questions too!”

“Hm.”

“oh come on-“ Jaskier looked up at the man, putting on his very best puppy dog face.

“Fine…” Geralt caved in quickly, setting his sword aside to pay attention to the practically-bouncing-off-the-walls bard next to him. “five questions and then I'm going to sleep.”

Jaskier pursed his lips, looking hard at Geralt,

“What’s your favourite colour?” He asked,

“That’s really your first question?” Geralt chuckled, stoking the fire. Jaskier snorted,

“obviously, one can’t operate as your best friend in the whole wide world without knowing your favourite colour.”

“Blue.” He answered simply,

Jaskier moved down a little, getting more comfortable as he nestled against Geralt’s side. “Is your hair naturally white?”

A shadow passed over Geralt’s face at that, Jaskier cringed at the thought of bringing up bad memories at such a pleasant time,

“No…” the Witcher starts slowly, “my hair was shorter... and dark brown before my training at Kaer Morhen- it changed during the trials.”

A warmth spread through Jaskier’s chest as he craned his neck to look into the warm golden eyes of his companion. Geralt was usually a wall of no emotion, forcing Jaskier to chisel away until he got some semblance of feelings out of him. But right now he could see the raw vulnerability racing through his mind.

The moment quickly passed when Geralt coughed and looked away, back into the firelight.

Jaskier composed himself, “I’m not going to ask you your favourite animal-“

“Roach.”

Jaskier chuckled, nudging Geralt with his head, “I think the whole continent knows that.”

The questions continued like that, Jaskier delving deeper into his strange Witcher’s psyche. Geralt refused to answer a few and Jaskier could see the way his jaw twitched and his brow creased in sadness or pain, especially when he asked if he’d had a travelling companion before Jaskier himself. Geralt seemed to relax a little- a luxury that they hadn’t been awarded since they’d left Ciri with Yennefer to hone her magical gifts. Jaskier could easily see that Geralt still had feelings for her, and he couldn’t really blame him; still, it hurt knowing he’d dug himself in a hole twenty years ago and adamantly refused to come back out.

#the witcher #the witcher fic #jaskier #Jaskier is a slutty bard #geralt x jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #jaskier is baby #bar fight #because i was bored

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savannahinfo · 4 years

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What to Expect at Affordable Hotels in Savannah Georgia

In this article, we will explore the many things to do in Savannah GA. If you are looking for an exciting and fun place for a honeymoon, then Savannah GA is the right place.

There are lots of things to do in Savannah. It is not enough that you enjoy your honeymoon here, you should also make it your first stop on your way to some of the best honeymoon spots in the world. As the capital of Georgia, it is also a good place to look for a house and get married.

When you are visiting Savannah GA, the first thing that you want to do is to have a great time. Do not let anything bother you, there are lots of things to do in Savannah. From water sports to museums, you will be able to enjoy your entire time in the city. There are lots of activities to enjoy so that you can relax and enjoy yourself.

Atlanta is a great place for a honeymoon and is a good place for a wedding. You will definitely find everything you want if you choose Atlanta as your place of stay. The city has plenty of places for you to visit.

Atlanta is a very beautiful place to spend your honeymoon and there is no doubt that you will enjoy every moment of it. If you are looking for something more exciting than your honeymoon in Atlanta, you should try a vacation to the famous beaches and other places of attractions. There are a lot of things to do when you are in the city.

There are several places that you can visit in Savannah. One of the most popular places to visit is the Old Fourth Ward Historic District. This district is full of architectural beauty and beautiful architecture. In fact, you will never be able to miss it. This is also one of the places that offer a lot of interesting museums.

Another fascinating place in Savannah is the Chickamauga County Historical Museum. This museum was built in the 1790s and it has a lot of historic and archaeological value. This is a must see place for anyone who is a history buff.

If you are looking for something different and exciting, then you should try going to the Big Cypress State Park and visit the different historic sites of Georgia. While on your trip to the state park, you will also be able to visit the famous Monkey Swamp Rabbit Island.

Another attraction is the zoo. The zoo is a place where you can experience a variety of exotic animals. If you have kids around, they can have a lot of fun at the zoo with them.

These are just some of the unique attractions that you can visit. If you want a vacation to the area, then you should consider all these places before choosing any place.

In order to save money, you can also consider taking a tour to the place you are staying. If you are in Savannah, you will surely come across a lot of discount hotels and resorts. Some of these resorts offer great discounts to people who book online ahead of time.

Affordable hotels and resorts in the area include the Hampton Inn and the Savin Hill Atlanta. You will find a lot of discounts to stay at these hotels, especially for families and couples. In addition, you will also find many restaurants that offer great food and drinks. You will not find everything in the world like these hotels.

You will not have to worry about anything when you stay at affordable hotels in Savannah. The best thing is that you will have everything that you need and want at affordable prices.

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delwaaunglor · 3 years

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Decided to take advantage of the weather. And the "parks near me" search function on Google Maps. Saw a beautiful butterfly I believe is a Mexican Yellow, all Google results considered. #naturephotography #swamprabbittrail #butterfly #sunlight #fallcolors (at Swamp Rabbit Trail - City Of Fountain Inn) https://www.instagram.com/delwaaunglor/p/CXEdKuUubLZ/?utm_medium=tumblr

#naturephotography #swamprabbittrail #butterfly #sunlight #fallcolors

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jacey-mary · 6 years

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#tbt to a couple weeks ago at the adorable Swamp Rabbit Inn in Greenville 🐇🐇 - - - #traveling #musician #wrenfione #music #singersongwriter #photographer #photography #nashville #musiccity #greenville

#greenville #singersongwriter #musiccity #musician #music #tbt #photography #photographer #traveling #wrenfione #nashville

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044-eu · 4 years

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Paella recipe

Paella recipe ingredients for 4/6 people

Being a single dish, that is, a single course, I recommend to make it abundant. 500 grams of rice 1 whole chicken 200 grams of diced pork pulp 150 grams of spicy sausage 100 grams salami 400 grams of mussels 200 grams of shrimp 200 grams of shrimp tails 200 grams squid cut into rings a dozen whole langoustines 2 peppers 200 grams of peas 1 onion 2 cloves garlic 2 bay leaves 700 grams of chopped tomatoes 1 saffron saffron sachet olive oil chopped chilli nut broth Salt Pepper To cook the paella, use the special wide and low-edge iron paella with two semi-circular handles or a very large circular iron pan that can then go into the oven.

Preparing Paella

Clean, wash and cut the chicken into small pieces, add the diced pork and cook for about twenty minutes all in a little olive oil, (4/5 tablespoons). After twenty minutes remove the pieces of meat from the pot and set aside. In the same cooking bottom cook the spicy sausage cut into small pieces and the salami always in pieces. After about ten minutes remove the meat from the cooking bottom and add it to the chicken and pork. Add a little oil to the remaining cooking bottom and cook a finely chopped onion until it becomes colored along with the garlic cloves that you will have crushed with a fork. Garlic cloves after browned should be removed. Now add the peeled tomatoes in pieces with the chopped chilli. Season with salt, pepper and cook for half an hour. Meanwhile, prepare the mussels, which will be washed and brushed thoroughly. Put them in a pan, cover and put on the heat until they are open. Half you remove from the valves and add them to the meat you have already cooked, the other half leave them in the valves because they will garnish the surface of our paella. The peppers should also be cooked lightly on the grill, so that the skin can be removed, after which the seeds are removed from strips or dice. Let's move on to the fish. Put the shrimp in a bowl, the shrimp tails the squid with a little olive oil and cook for 5 minutes turning often. Now let's take a large pan and put the chicken meat, pork, sausage, salami, peas, chopped peppers, bay leaf. Add at least a litre of broth and let it cook over low heat for about 20 minutes. After 20 minutes we also add the fish we cooked before and the mussels that we removed from the valves and let it cook for 10 minutes more. Meanwhile, in our paella or circular iron pan, heat half a glass of olive oil, put the rice and toast lightly using a wooden spoon. Just lightly toasted add the mixture of tomatoes you had prepared before and mix it with the rice adding a little broth at a time. Melt the saffron bag in a tablespoon of broth and add it to the rice, stirring well. Incorporate all this plan plan add all the other ingredients with the cooking broth that was advanced and adding a little more broth if serving until the rice is cooked. At this point, the mussels with the valves we had left before and the langoustines that you have previously cooked on the grill are placed on the surface of the paella. Put the bowl in the already hot static oven at 180 degrees and let it cook for 5 minutes. Now our paella is ready to be brought to the table and enjoyed. The wine suitable for this dish is a dry white served cold, and this is my favorite, although someone since there is also meat in the recipe prefers a good full-bodied red.

Paella designation

Its name: paella comes from the pan in which this recipe was prepared. It is a low-edged iron pan with two opposite grips. This dish consisting of rice, meats, fish, vegetables, cured meats, aromas and everything the cook considers appropriate to mix, is considered by foreigners a kind of emblem of Spanish cuisine, while authoritative Spanish writers call paella a dish impossible to classify, some call it baroque, but by many Spanish chefs it is considered a curiosity for tourists. True is however that inherited from the period of Arab domination that Spain has suffered, many recipes of baked rice were imported, but in each using only certain elements, that is, only fish or only meat or only vegetables, The different Spanish regional cuisines made treasure of these recipes have modified them by inserting and mixing together the various elements, making them a unique dish complete with many variants. The most common and cooked in Spain is the Valencian paella, then the mixed one, both meat and fish, but given the success that has gained species with foreigners led other regions to launch their own paella, so the Catalan paella was born , the Paella of Alicante, the paella navarrina etc. These are recipes subject to many variants that we will analyze later. Common voices indicate the birth of this specialty around the fifteenth century and it was the lunch of the peasants, not rich as it happened later but were used the inductors of the countryside combined with rice. Traditionally paella is eaten at lunch and not dinner and is the Sunday dish for Spaniards. Its place of origin is thought to be the extensive Albufera swamp, south of Valencia, where for centuries the ideal rice is grown for this preparation and many other ingredients of paella can also be found. It is thought that the original recipe included in addition to rice, only meat, chicken or rabbit and vegetables, then peasant and not marinara. I have found various legends on the web regarding the origin of this dish and other curiosities, but I do not know how much they can be trusted. I propose them anyway because I found them very intriguing. According to one of these one day in an inn in southern Spain he stopped to refuel a beautiful princess. The host enchanted by his beauty wanted to make a dish that was sensational, then I start to mix with saffron rice the most disparate ingredients, from meat to fish, to vegetables to aromas. When the princess asked him the name of that dish that she liked so much the host who could not give it a name said simply pa ella, which in Spanish means to her. Another curious anecdote of dubious provenance, refers to the period of occupation of Valencia by Napoleonic troops. There was a general in the city French who especially loved paella. This general promises the release of a Valencian prisoner every variant of paella that will make him taste. The camp's cooks armed themselves with fantasy and churned out many variations, they are said to have managed to get more than 150 people liberal. One more curiosity: the largest paella in the world. In 1992 the world's largest paella was cooked by a restaurateur in Valencia. The paella measured twenty meters in diameter and on that occasion about 100,000 people were served. The Spaniards even dedicated a day to paella. In fact, march 27 is celebrated the international Spanish Paella Day, a day on which in Spain everyone prepares paella, coinciding with the beginning of spring and evokes warm, sunny terraces, convivial companies gathered around this specialty, cook and enjoy outdoors if possible.

Let's start with rice

It is important for the success of our paella to choose the right rice. The original recipe tells us the rice called Bomba. In Spain there are three areas where this type of rice is grown with a controlled origin. The Ebro Delta in Tarragona province, calasparra in Murcia and the Albufera swamp south of Valencia. This type of rice is suitable for all types of paella, whether meat or fish, vegetables or mixed. It absorbs more water than other types of rice, thus better retaining the flavors of ingredients and other important quality, it keeps cooking very well even if you exceed the recommended cooking time. The grain has a round and white look. It is not very easily found in Italy and is very expensive even in Spain, however in Italy we have risi that are very close to this and can make up for it. So I recommend a parboiled an arborium or a carnaroli. Perfect laughs for our risottos but also good for paella. A very welcome variant will be to use black rice called Venus. It is a variety of Italian rice that was born at the end of the last century around Vercelli through a cross between an Asian variety of black rice and a variety of the Padana Plain. It certainly turns out to be an exotic and unconventional choice, but it seems the ideal rice for the mixed paella of meat and fish, so much so that even the Spaniards have discovered it and use it. I wanted to do a try using Basmati rice which is an elongated rice and I found it great for paella for its fragrant and aromatic taste and whose beans remain separate and solid.

Fish paella or paella de marisco

Only fish is used in this type of paella. Mainly shellfish and shellfish hence the name Marismus (mollusk). Mussels, squid, shrimp, langoustines, but also clams, crabs or fish that offers the market, everything goes well for this preparation. In this recipe the rice is flavored not only with saffron but also with paprika. The basic recipe does not include vegetables except tomato garlic and onion, but inserted in the middle of cooking you can put peas and peppers. Instead of the broth in this variety they use the water that comes out of the pot opening of mussels, or the comic of fish or crustaceans that is the cooking bottom of the fish and crustaceans that we use for our paella. Serve the marisco paella with slices of lemon.

Vegetarian Paella

In this particular paella you use seasonal vegetables, and therefore can vary depending on the period in which you prepare. So peas, cauliflower, carrots, white spanish beans, artichokes, peppers and green beans. But champignon mushrooms or other types and other vegetables are also fine. For the bottom of cooking, onion, garlic, tomatoes and for the aromas, paprika, saffron and parsley. It is a fairly fast preparation and very tasty and healthy.

Paella of Alicante

In this variant you use rabbit and chicken meat that are cut into not very large pieces and browned with a little butter along with the sliced sausage. Set aside and add the garlic cloves and chopped onion to the cooking bottom. When the garlic is golden, remove it and add the tomatoes, chicken and rabbit. Cook the rice for about ten minutes in the heated paella with the oil, uniting the meat broth a little at a time. Add the meat and cook for another 5 minutes. Beat 4 eggs in a bowl with a little salt and pepper and pour over the rice over the heat. Place the slices of sausage on top of the garnish. Put it in the oven at 200 degrees for about ten minutes and serve hot.

the original Valencian

It is not very easy to find it, you prefer the most complete variants. But initially the Valencian paella was made up of meat, snails and vegetables and not fish as many now prefer. So in addition to rice, chicken, rabbit, snails. White Spanish beans and green beans as vegetables. For the bottom of cooking, always the usual, tomato, onion and garlic. The cooking is the same, only the ingredients change. This is the oldest and most classic Spanish paella. A voice in the word deserves sangria that even if it is not purely a wine (or more simply a preparation) suitable for our pans, it is the necessary completion to this tasty dish. So have a good appetite. Read the full article

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