Dinnkyroo



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    Geralt is just supposed to pass through the quiet Lettenhove area. He's not anticipating being begged by its people to help save their viscount from a curse that keeps him from daylight. Lord Jaskier, they call him, and he's likely dying.

    As Geralt struggles to untangle the ugly web of history that has lead to the increasingly complicated curse, he finds himself spending more and more time with the strange young viscount and wondering just what he might have been before the curse, and who he might be after. But things are not always as they seem, and as the curse tightens its grip on Jaskier, Geralt is forced to face the fear of failing yet another person whose choices were stolen from them.

    Or-

    Jaskier is kept from becoming a bard. Geralt finds him anyway.

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    28 Jul 2020

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    He’s hunkered next to his oil lamp, bent over his dinner, when he hears a voice. “That was kind of you.” Geralt’s head shoots up, brow furrowed. For one brief moment he’s baffled - how could someone get in here without him hearing? - but when he sees who it is, he stills. The man standing in front of him is the man he buried not two hours ago. “Didn’t think Witchers provided that kind of service. I thought you handled, y’know, making the deaths happen.”

    Geralt frowns, considering. His medallion is quiet, though he’s absolutely certain: this man is a ghost. “Who are you?”

    A faint smile graces the man’s face. “Julian Alfred Pankrantz, Viscount de Lettenhove.” The smile sours. “Or at least, I was.”

    helping a ghost find his peace is not the strangest contract geralt's ever taken on, but it's certainly up there.

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    25 Jul 2020

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    “If you weren’t training to become a witcher, what would you do?”

    Geralt looks puzzled by the question. “I’ve never thought about it.”

    Jaskier passes him the vodka. “Come on. You have to have some secret dream. Horse trainer? Pirate? King of Kaedwen?”

    “Not worth thinking about, since it won’t happen.” Geralt shakes his head. “What about you? What would you do if you weren’t a viscount? Be a bard?”

    “Of course. And you, my very best friend in the world, would be my muse.”

    Geralt scoffs. “I’d be a shit muse.”

    Geralt and Jaskier are seven years old when they meet, Geralt a terrified child surprise on his way to Kaer Morhen and Jaskier the lonely bastard son of the Earl de Lettenhove. Over the next fifteen years, they become friends, fall in love, break each other’s hearts, and find their way back to each other.

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    22 Jul 2020

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    "Why -" he gestures expansively towards Jaskier, his lute, the forest around them, his swords now strapped to Roach "- are you doing this?"

    A bard seeking fortune wouldn't watch Geralt across the fire with eyes half-full of tears that he didn't bother to blink away. An artist looking for a muse wouldn't press close, desperately close, against Geralt's side until he finally gave in and turned his head. A young man after a quick fuck wouldn't grip Geralt to him hard enough to bruise even a witcher.

    The way Jaskier looks at Geralt makes him think he should know the answer already, but he doesn't, he doesn't.

    "Because I know you," he says at last. "Because I have known you. Because I will know you. Isn't that enough?"

    (One day, Geralt will understand that it was the closest thing Jaskier will ever have to a goodbye, and it's enough, it's enough.)

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    15 Jul 2020

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    Geralt knows Jaskier is a bard - but until now, he’s never properly listened to his songs.

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    11 Jul 2020