maravia



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    Geralt had no damn idea what to do with a vineyard when Anna Henrietta gave him Corvo Bianco, but he figured it couldn’t be that bad.

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    05 Apr 2021

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    That night in the forest, as he saved Naruto from Mizuki, Umino Iruka unlocked a new ability within himself that would change the course of history itself… and apparently, it involves a lot of cooking on his part.

    Oh, and being a soothsayer or some shit.

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    04 Apr 2021

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    Jaskier is on the coast, likely in a court or a tavern, or in someone’s bed, or being chased from someone’s bed. He’s singing or screwing or drinking. He’s safe. When Geralt allowed himself to think of the bard, that’s what he imagined.
     
    Geralt goes a little out of his way to attack a Nilfgaardian patrol, and finds something entirely unexpected.

    Yes, it's Jaskier.

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    02 Apr 2021

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    Geralt unties Roach from the post, and is about to leave when there’s the sound of an altercation behind him. He turns to see two guards dragging a third man between them. The man is wearing brightly coloured clothes and struggling, not seriously, more like he’s aware that in such circumstances struggling is expected. The guards approach Geralt and drop their charge to his knees in front of him.

    “Ow,” the prisoner says. Geralt recognises the bard from the tavern: a little more dishevelled, his face not improved by two black eyes and a split lip.

    “This one claims he’s a friend of yours,” one of the guards says. “Caught him sniffing around the treasury but he says he knows you. Says you’ll vouch for him.”

    Geralt looks down at the bard, who winks at him, then winces.

    How the witcher got his bard; or, the history of a relationship in ten rescues.

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    31 Mar 2021

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    When the days shorten and the trees shrug off their rusty coats Jaskier knows it is time to head towards Oxenfurt. They are somewhere in Temeria on their way to the little village of Anchor. Any day now, Geralt will feel a particular chill in the air and instinctively steer them towards the Pontar. There, Jaskier will steel himself and make some noise about the cold or the stinginess of the crowd – a prelude to his annual soliloquy about how it is about time he heads towards the harbouring arms of the university and its candelabra’d comforts: sans dirt, sans drowner guts, and sans Witcher.

    He strums his lute and sings, “Oh White Wolf, I fear if you do not hear my plea for an ear to my woe, I shall have to go bare, and just so we’re clear, my pants’ll be the first things to go.”

    Roach huffs, and a coin comes sailing towards him, hitting him in the forehead.

    “Fucking ow, you fuck.”

    Geralt snorts. “Just tossing a coin to my barker.”

    Jaskier is going to miss him so much.

    ***

    Dear Reader, I present to you a tale of love, the value of faith and communication, and quite a ridiculous amount of horse content.

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    30 Mar 2021