#it’s hard for me to draw grief and sorrow on a normal/neutral day

[sketchncanto]

No more happily reunited Bruno. I want sad, lonely, isolated Bruno. ANGST ANGST ANGST!!! JK, love your work.

Y’know what? Y’all want angst?— FINE

[waiting4inspiration]

Scream (Geralt x Banshee!reader)

Summary: Geralt is hired to kill a Banshee, thinking that it’s the reason people are dying. When he finds out that it’s not true, he spares the Banshee’s life, and she returns the favor later on when she finds the Witcher close to death

Warnings: mythical elements, mentions of murder, violence, mentions of blood, angst, small fluff, witcher things, if I missed something, please let me know

Word Count: 2,513

7k Mythical Creatures Masterlist II Witcher Masterlist

There are stories Witchers in training are told when they are young of women who travel all around the continent, whose wails and screams could only be heard by those whose death was near. Women, known as Banshees. It is believed that the Banshee kills those that hear her scream, which classifies them as monsters, meaning that Witchers kill them the moment they come across one. No questions asked. 

Their scarce numbers are what make Banshees only a fairy tale now. No one has seen or heard of one in years. So much so, Geralt doesn’t believe they exist anymore. 

While traveling through some small city in Redania, Geralt hears the story of a wealthy family who has lost two children in the past month. The parents say that both had told them they had heard a wailing scream a few days before they died. Both times, the family thought nothing of it. 

Now, with the father having heard the wail just last night and Geralt noticing a similarity of this to the stories of Banshees, he agrees to kill this family’s monster for a price, of course. 

He’ll have to stay as close with the family as he can, every night until the Banshee attacks. Though he can’t guarantee that he can prevent the father of the family dying, he can at least stop this vendetta the Banshee seems to have for the family. 

Waiting outside the house, on the lookout for the creature that would kill the father, he catches sights of something. But it’s not the Banshee. It’s human. An assassin. 

Then, he sees the man he is to protect, the father, run out of the house seemingly shaken by something. Geralt begins to doubt if there even is a Banshee, or if these people knew they were being targeted by assassins and thought they could hire a Witcher as their bodyguard. Well, they can keep their coin because Geralt won’t get caught up in meaningless affairs that don’t include hunting monsters. 

Before the Witcher can turn to leave, he stops a figure looming in the dark under a dead tree. And he hears a fell voice on the air, a song of sorrow and grief. A Banshee song. It’s not possible. 

Geralt’s eyes flicker over to the man that had run out of the house and he catches an assassin dropping from the roof and landing behind the man. There’s a loud, piercing scream that seems to make the man go frozen before his throat is sliced open with a knife. The man’s body falls to the ground, and the assassin is gone. 

Looking back over to where he saw the figure, Geralt finds the spot under the dead tree empty. 

“You carry so much death around you, Witcher.” 

He jumps around when he hears your voice behind him and finds that hooded figure he had spotted under the tree now behind him. 

Quickly drawing his silver sword, the ringing makes you back away from him and hold your hands up to stop him. He notices how smooth your hands seem to be, like human hands. Watching as you slowly lift them up to push back the hood, you reveal your face. 

Geralt lowers his sword and chuckles. “I thought Banshees looked like a frightening old hag,” he mentions, staring at your young-looking face. 

“If it’s my true features your wish to see then-”

“I meant no offense,” he cuts you off, stopping you from changing your appearance. Still, he sees some of the stories he’s heard about Banshees being true in your appearance now. 

Red eyes, from weeping and wailing. A sorrow-fill look on your face, like you had just come from a funeral. And a white dress underneath that grey cloak, to refer to your link to the spirit world. 

You tilt your head to the side as you stare at him, smiling when you see that what you have heard of Witcher, what they look like, seem to be true. Gold eyes, pale hair, brooding features. And death in their aura. 

“You mean to kill me, Witcher?” you question, seeing that he still holds the silver sword in his hands. “You wouldn’t be the first that tried. Though, you won’t be the first to succeed,” you mention as you take a step closer to him.

He smirks at you. “What makes you think you have an advantage over me?” he asks, bringing his sword up and resting the blade against his chest. With one swing, you can be dead. This you know, but you are not afraid. 

You laugh, take another step forward and narrow your eyes at him. Running your tongue over your lips, you glance down to the sword on his chest for a second before looking up at his face again. “My scream can do more than just warn others that their death is coming. I scream, and I change your destiny and bring your life closer to its ends than you expected,” you say in a low voice. 

Geralt narrows his eyes at you and lowers his sword again, making you smile and back up a bit to show him that you won’t harm him if he doesn’t harm you. “You didn’t kill those kids, did you?” 

His question makes you roll your eyes at him and fold your arms over your chest. “We only kill when we’re threatened, to keep ourselves alive,” you state. Taking a step to the side, you glance down to the house and watch as the mother walks out with the intention to look for her husband, only to find him dead. “We used to travel in groups, you know. When there were more than just five of us,” you say as the woman cries out and drops beside her husband’s corpse. “I don’t remember the last time I saw another banshee. Thanks to your kind,” you coldly snap, turning you head up to him as you turn away from the grieving woman and walk away. 

His head turns after you, watches you walk away. “My kind is dying off just as yours has,” he snaps at you as he turns his back on the house with the crying woman in front of it. “We only go on what we were told and we were told that Banshees kill those that hear their screams.”

“That is a lie!” you bark, turning around harshly to face him again, glare coldly at him with eyes redder than normal. You’re angry, and he can tell you’re holding back a scream. “We are harbingers of death. It is not our place to kill, but to warn those of death so that they may finish things before they die. That story was only created because humans don’t like to blame themselves. It’s easier to blame something else other than your own kind,” you add more calmly as you drop your gaze to the ground. 

Geralt understands that. There have been so many times where he had been blamed for things caused by humans, all because it was easy to blame someone non-human than someone of their own species. 

You stare at him for a second, sigh and glance over your shoulder to the direction you were headed. And Geralt has an idea why. “You’re leaving,” he whispers, making you look back at him and nod. 

“This family is done with death. The assassins are gone now that they have what they wanted,” you explain, glancing back to the house for a second before looking back at Geralt to find him frowning at you. “That wife isn’t as sad about her husband’s death as she portrays. There is no sorrow in her cries. Do with that what you will,” you simply say before turning around, lifting the hood over your head again and walking away.

He watches you disappear before turning back around to face the house again, people have now come out of their own homes at the sound of the crying woman to comfort her and Geralt knows that he will be blamed for the man’s death. He has to leave to avoid that kind of confrontation. If he shows his face here again so soon, who knows what will happen. 

It’s best to just leave. 

Sometimes, things don’t according to plan. 

For example, Geralt was supposed to find the werewolf, kill it, collect his coin, and get out of town. He didn’t mean to get involved in some political problems and end up having to fend for himself after collecting his coin. He thought that after he walks out of the city walls that he’d be fine. 

He was wrong. And now, he’s being searched for through the forest. Now, with a wound in his shoulder from one of the fuckers that are looking for him that shot an arrow through his shoulders. 

If only he could remember where he left Roach. 

Stumbling to the ground and groaning in pain when he lands on his wounded shoulder, he curses to himself. So much for trying to stay neutral. 

He then hears footsteps nearing him. But they’re in front of him instead of behind him. And as he turns his gaze up to see who, or what it is, he sees a hooded figure standing in front of him. A grey cloak. He knows that cloak. 

You push back the hood to reveal your face, but instead of looking down at Geralt, you stare out at the men that approach. 

And the last thing Geralt hears before he falls into unconsciousness is the sound of Banshee scream. 

His eyes snap open at the feeling of something pressing against the wound on his shoulder and his hand shoots out to grab the wrist in front of his face. 

You gasp at the sudden action and effortlessly pull your hand out of his grip. He glances over to you and grunts when he sees your face. “What are you doing?” he roughly questions, making your smile fall and a cold, stern look to grow on your face. 

“Saving your life, by the look of things,” you speak, turn your head to the side as you rinse the cloth you had used to clean up his wound. “Banshee medicine is very strong, so you should be back to slaying monsters tomorrow-” He tries to push himself up, only to be stopped by you placing a hand on his chest to push him back down. “-if you don’t move as much as possible and rest,” you say, glaring hard at him as he stares up at you. 

He breathes out a long sigh as you reach over to grab something. “I didn’t need your help,” he stubbornly mutters, making you laugh and turn your head back to him. 

You chuckle, glance down to the bottle in your hand as you pull the cork out and run your tongue over your lips. “I see so,” you sarcastically reply with a smirk before pouring the liquid over the wound. 

Geralt grunts in pain, bites back a scream and stares down at the wound as he clenches his hands into fists at the burning feeling. “What the fuck is that?”

“Temerian spirits,” you state, placing the alcohol aside as you look back down at him. 

Laughing to see the slightly irritated look on his face, you lean back in your seat and smile at him when he smiles at the sound of your laugh. He didn’t know Banshees were capable of laughing. He didn’t know they were capable of anything other than death. 

And yet, he’s never heard a more calming, sweet laugh as yours. 

Then, he remembers the scream before he passed out. You told him that your screams can do more than just warn people of their death, that you can actually kill someone with a scream. And that’s probably what you had done to save him. 

But the looming fact that he heard your scream and that his death might be nearing. Would it be something that he’d be okay with? He has been around for a long time, it wouldn’t be all that bad after so long. Would it?

“You Witchers and your brooding nature,” you mutter, breaking him out of his thoughts and making his eyes turn to you again. “Come on, tell me what’s going on in that mind of yours,” you urge, standing from your seat and walking across the room with the bowl in your hands. 

He wonders if he should even tell you, knowing that it will be your doing that he dies and he wouldn’t want to make you feel insulted after you practically saved his life. “I just realized that I don’t know your name,” he says, groaning as he pushes himself to sit up now that you are not there to stop him.

Humming at his words, you turn around to face him after placing the bowl down. You stare at him with a smile, fold your arms over your chest and breathe out a short sigh. “(Y/n).”

“I’m Geralt,” he replies, returning your smile as you start to walk towards him again. “I suppose I should thank you for saving me,” he mutters as he glances around the room. 

“I’m not done with you yet, Geralt,” you quickly say as you come to stand in front of him. He looks up at you with a frown on his face, takes in a deep breath as you sit down on his lap and rest your hands on his chest. “I know you heard my scream. And, believe me, I do not want you to die after I saved your life,” you state, your eyes flickering down to his lips for a second before you look back up to him. “You spared my life, so I’ll spare yours.”

With that, you lean forward and press your lips to his. His eyes flutter shut at the feeling and he leans in closer to your face, cups your cheek, and kisses you back. 

The kiss lasts longer than you anticipated, but you can’t complain about the feeling of warm lips against yours, of having someone so close to you, someone touching your cheek like you’ve seen lovers do before death rips them apart. 

When you do end the kiss, you breathe out a flustered sigh and stare at his face, waiting for him to open his eyes so you can check if it worked. 

“That’s the final step of a Banshee healing someone. I’ve taken away the chance that you might die of your wounds, and I’ve taken away the death you carry with you,” you explain as you begin to pull away once he opens his eyes to look at you. “Be careful, Geralt. My kiss is a gift. Don’t waste it,” you warn as you slowly step away from him. 

As you reach for the hood of your cloak, he knows you intend to leave again. And he knows that he has to let you go. 

Death doesn’t wait for anyone. Not even a Banshee. 

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[journalofimprobablethings]

Relationships: Lucretia & Lup, Lucretia & Taako, Lucretia & Barry, Lucretia & Everyone

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Spoilers for Stolen Century, Spoilers for Story & Song, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Starblaster Crew as Family

Summary:

When Lucretia finds Lup's name burned into the wall of the Bureau of Balance, it doesn't take her long to connect the dots. And once she knows where Lup is, she can't just leave her there. She has to find a way to get her out.

AU where Lucretia frees Lup early, and they team up to try to fix their mistakes, reunite their family, and save the world in the process.

Preview (full chapter under the cut):

Lucretia is used to coming across unexpected sights in the Bureau of Balance headquarters.

She is not certain whether the nature of the work attracts people with their own unique ways of doing things, or whether living on a moonbase lowers one’s inhibitions, but between Carey and Killian’s antics, the increasingly complex contraptions that Avi builds in the cannon bay, and the roulette wheel that is any trip to the Fantasy Costco, she thinks that there is nothing left that could possibly surprise her.

But nothing could have prepared her for entering the dining hall to see Lup’s name burned into the wall.

She stops dead in the doorway when she sees it. The letters are six feet high, charcoal black; the edges of the "P" are still smoldering. For a moment she is completely empty. She can't form a single thought, she can't breathe, she's fairly certain her heart stops beating.

And when her brain restarts, all she can think is, no one here knows Lup's name.

Lup has been erased, as thoroughly as Brian or Bain or any of the other fallen Bureau employees--more so, because she’s been erased by Fisher’s child, too. No one here should know Lup's name.

So how can it be here?

“Director?”

Lucretia starts. She hadn’t realized that she wasn’t alone. Now she looks, and realizes that Angus is kneeling behind one of the tables near the back of the hall. He looks like he was probably examining the bottom of the “L” scorched into the wall, but now he is examining her.

“Ma’am, are--are you okay?”

Lucretia doesn’t know how to even begin answering that question. She knows that she should move, should look at Angus, should be calm and professional and tell Angus that yes, of course she is all right.

It would be a lie, of course. But how is that different from anything else she says these days?

Instead what comes out of her mouth is halting and not at all Director-like.

“Who--how--Angus, who wrote that?”

Angus’s face lights up the way it always does when there is a mystery to solve.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to ascertain, ma’am! There’s something wrong with Taako’s umbrastaff. We were doing a magic lesson, and it suddenly went rogue and incinerated my macarons! They were pretty bad, but I don’t think Taako would have burnt them up on purpose. Then the staff blasted this word into the wall.”

“The--the staff did?”

“Yes, ma’am! Taako didn’t know what L-U-P was anymore than I did. He said the staff moved all by itself.”

Lucretia has to close her eyes for a moment. Taako not remembering Lup was her choice, her attempt to spare him a sorrow he would have no way of repairing. But the reality of it, when she is confronted with it, still hits her like a freight train.

She forces her thoughts away from her guilt and back to the situation at hand.

The staff blasted Lup’s name into the wall.

Lup’s staff, her arcane focus, that she took with her when she left. That Taako took from the remains of her body. That had been next to her, presumably, when she died--

Oh. Oh, gods.

Lucretia remembers Lup talking about the abilities of the umbrastaff, how it consumed the power of defeated magic users.

When Lup died, she would have emerged as a lich, a being of pure magic, and if the staff was next to her when she did--

Oh, gods. Oh gods oh gods.

Lucretia has to fight to keep her face neutral, her breathing steady, as the realization washes over her.

It would explain why Lup hadn’t returned, why they had never found her, how she had managed to vanish without a trace. Why even when they finally came across her bones, her soul was nowhere to be found.

When Magnus and Merle and Taako had told her about the skeleton they had found in Wave Echo Cave, Lucretia had resigned herself to the possibility that Lup might just be gone--that the grief of what they had done to this world had been too much, and she had lost herself. She had cried in her room that night, for Lup’s loss, and for Taako, that he had found all that was left of his sister and hadn’t even known.

And all that time, Lup had been right there.

"Ma'am?"

Lucretia blinks. She doesn’t know how long she’s been lost in thought, and she realizes that Angus is still watching her. She wonders how much of what just went through her head played across her face. Her heart is pounding so hard in her chest she wouldn't be surprised if Angus could hear it.

“Angus, where is Taako now?”

“He went back to his room, I think.” Angus is looking at her with far too sharp an expression. “Ma’am, do you know what L-U-P is?”

“No--that is--I don’t--we can talk about it later, Angus, right now I need to--excuse me.”

She turns and rushes out before Angus can ask any more questions, cursing herself as she goes. She couldn’t have done more to raise Angus’s suspicions if she’d been wearing a sign that said “I have secrets.”

Well, it can’t be helped. She’ll have to find a way later to put Angus off, give him a false trail to follow.

Right now, she needs to find Taako, and figure out some way to get the umbrastaff from him. And then…? Her steps slow as she tries to work through the problem.

She can’t let Lup out in the headquarters. Being in the umbrella seems to have protected her from the lich wards so far, but once she’s free they’ll activitate at once. Lucretia isn’t sure what state Lup is in, but the last thing she wants to do is damage her more.

She’ll have to take the staff down to the surface, then. And then--what? Break it? Would breaking it set Lup free, or would it hurt her? Is there a way to somehow extract the magic that the umbrella has absorbed?

The corridor is empty, so there is no one to see Lucretia drop her head in her hands in despair.

This was never the sort of problem she was good at solving. Barry and Lup were always the ones who could think through a problem and see all the potential consequences of one solution or another.

She wishes Barry were here. A stupid wish, she knows, given that she’s the one who cast the wards that are keeping him out.

But still.

She tries to think of what he would say, how he would approach the problem.

One problem at a time, Luce, says Barry's voice in her mind. You can't fix everything at once.

Lucretia takes a deep breath, draws herself up, and squares her shoulders. One problem at a time.

First, she’ll get the staff.

And then, she’ll find a way to set Lup free.

She makes it all the way to the door of the Reclaimers quarters before she stops again. She hasn't been down here since Candlenights; apart from the spa trip with Merle, she hasn't seen any of them much in recent weeks. The distance between them keeps collapsing--they know her name, now, and they keep finding ways to get under her defenses. The best thing she can do is stay away, even if it hurts.

Lucretia reaches out to knock, then hesitates. What will she say, if Merle opens the door, or Magnus? She would like to avoid involving them in this if at all possible. Would asking to speak privately with Taako put them off, or just raise their suspicions? Do they even know what happened? Taako is tight-lipped enough that he might not talk about it with them, but keep it a problem to solve on his own.

Her mind is swirling with questions and indecision, so much so that she doesn’t notice someone come up behind her.

'Hey, Madam D. What brings you down here amongst the peons?"

Lucretia startles a little and drops her hand. She turns and there is Taako behind her, casually holding the umbrastaff across his shoulders. She tries hard not to stare at it as she greets him.

"Oh, Taako. I was looking for you."

Taako smiles, and a now-familiar stab of pain goes through her heart. His smile is so much sharper now.

"Boss coming down to find me in my room after hours? Either you're about to suggest something wildly inappropriate, or you're here to fire me."

It's all Lucretia can do to not burst out in wild laughter. Her nerves are all raw edges right now; the adrenaline of her revelation spiking again as she looks at the umbrastaff in Taako's hand, and the idea of her coming down here to propose some sort of tryst almost sends her over the edge.

"Neither, I promise," she says, forcing a smile. "Angus told me what happened with your staff. I just wanted to check on you."

"That's sweet of you," Taako says. "I'm peachy. Feel kind of bad about Ango's cookies, but." He shrugs. "All good in Taako-land."

"And the umbrastaff? Has it...does it seem...normal?"

"Yeah." He holds it up for her to see. "Just an umbrella. I mean, a super magic one, but, you know. No more stray fireballs."

"May I see it?" She holds her hand out, trying to be calm, trying to not seem too eager, but her hand is shaking and her heart is in her throat.

"Sure," he says. He hands it over, and as she takes it she thinks her heart might burst out of her chest. Lup is here, right here, nothing separating them but a few layers of cloth and metal and some powerful magic.

Hey, Lup, she thinks. Just hold on. I'm going to get you out of there.

She runs her hand along one of the spokes, trying to get a feel for what magic might be holding Lup captive. But it's too complex to parse just from feeling.

"Has it ever done anything like this before?" she asks. How active has Lup been, since Taako found her?

"Has my umbrella ever taken on a mind of its own before and written a word I don't know into the wall? No, can't say it has. Does it matter?"

"Well, if it's a repeated instance, it could indicate that something's gone wrong with the construction--" she's talking like Barry, she realizes, analytical and technical, and she stops at the look on Taako's face.

"I just want to make sure it's safe," she says. "I don't suppose you have any ideas?"

"Yeah, I dunno. I thought I just cast the wrong spell when it toasted Ango's macarons, but then it moved on its own; nearly tore itself out of my hand. Think it's possessed?"

He grins at her, inviting her to join the joke, and it's all she can do to keep her composure.

"I doubt it," she says, as drily as she can. "But I've never heard of an umbrastaff acting autonomously before. Would you mind if I take it for a bit to run some tests? If there is something wrong with it, there may be a way to fix it."

Taako's demeanor changes instantly. He crosses his arms, and something about his expression hardens, all the humor that was there a moment ago suddenly gone.

"Do I mind you taking my very powerful arcane weapon off to run mysterious tests? Uh, yeah, I mind." He's studying her now, too closely. "What's this all about?"

Trust Taako to pick up that there's something else going on. He's always been sharp, and this new version of him is twice as suspicious of everyone's motives, especially hers.

"I'm only concerned for your safety, Taako; if something were to go wrong again--"

"Well, don't be," Taako says. Lucretia can't help but be hurt at the curtness in his tone. "If something happens again, I'll handle it on my own. It's how I work best."

He holds his hand out to her.

"I'll take my umbrella back, now."

Lucretia looks down at the umbrastaff. She imagines what would happen if she just bolted right now, umbrella in hand. The thought of the look on Taako's face if she did brings a laugh bubbling up in her chest. It's something the old version of her might have done, back on the Starblaster; she can hear Lup laughing and egging her on as Taako shouts indignantly after her.

But none of those people exist anymore, and she can't risk everything she's built on a stunt like that.

She'll have to find another way.

She hands the umbrella back to Taako, reluctantly.

"Please think about it," she says. "And let me know if you change your mind. If that staff is unstable it could be dangerous, and I don't want you to get hurt."

Taako twirls the umbrella nonchalantly before resting it on his shoulder. "Don't worry about me. I know how to take care of myself."

He winks at her, his mask of nonchalance and charm firmly back in place. Then he pushes past her and disappears into the Reclaimer suite, closing the door with a firm click behind him. Lucretia is left standing alone in the hallway, contemplating her failure.

That didn’t go quite as planned.

She looks down at her hands, remembering the weight of the umbrastaff in them, the knowledge that Lup was so, so close.

Well. If Taako won't give the umbrastaff to her willingly, she's just going to have to steal it.