They stiffle another set of giggles as Jaskier and Ciri hide behind a few trees, spying on Geralt and Yen as they navigate their complicated little partnership once again. The young warrior bites her tongue, beaming at how Jaskier pitches his voice a few octaves higher, trying and failing to mimic Yen. In her opinion, she's say he sounds more like he's been kicked in the balls than anything else.
"You're unbelivable!" He shakes his head dramatically.
"You're delusional!" She almost coughs at the gruffness of her own voice.
They smile and for once in a long, long time Ciri feels...light. She feels like she's actually 15 and not the continent's number one target or the actual harbinger of the apocalypse. She sees Jaskier smile as bright as sunshine, in Geralt's words though she might just secure her death if she ever told anyone that. Not for the first time, she feels an immese wave of gratitute towards him. This silly man who always tries, no matter how grim and depressing everything gets, to make her smile. To reassure her, to talk to her as simply her- not a witcher in training, not a novice mage, not a future queen-to-be.
Once upon a time, she might have hated him for speaking to her like this, like she was a child. Now? She finds herself deeply comforted by that, by him and his words.
She suspects Geralt felt a similar sentiment when he and Jaskier travelled together.
In the distance, they see Yen reach to cradle Geralt's cheek, the other leaning into her touch. Such a horridly cheesy scene to witness, Ciri thinks with a hint of fondness and alot of disgust for her parents-of-suprise. Another quip forms on her tongue but just as it escapes, she turns to her companion and-
Oh.
His face falls, demeanor more serious and...sad. Ciri, with creeping concern realizes that his eyes turn glassy. Jaskier's eyes stay glued on the pair, in a way that is tired. Like he's seen this moment a thousand times before.
"I forgive you...for your various foolish words and deeds. For your lack of faith and hope. For your obstinancy. Doggedness..." This time, Jaskier says these words in his own voice, slightly shakey and whispered. At this point, Ciri is no longer looking at the pair infront of them. She's seen the same forlorn look on both of her parent's faces before, when they were hopping between homes. Everytime Yen looks at Geralt when he doesn't let her in the house. Everytime Geralt reads another letter tacked on the door smelling of lilac and gooseberries.
Everytime she asks Geralt why he stopped travelling with his bard after decades of companionship.
Heartbreak. That's what Jaskier looks like, Ciri realizes. Suddenly, she's overcome with the urge to hug the man beside her, comfort him like how he has to her. The two kiss and she doesn't dare look at Jaskier when they do.
"Jaskier?" She notes the heavy pause before he eventually answers.
"Yes, dear?" He's smiling again, she can hear. How real it is, she can't say. Reaching for his arm, she squeezes.
"Let's go. I'm bored." She hears a chuckle before she feels him get up. They both can't help but glance back at the couple once more, now in an intimate embrace. Ciri pushes the bard towards their cottage, ignoring the sniffle she hears or the quick wipe of hid cheek disgused as a scratch.
"Come on, you deviant." They walk back to the cottage in silence.
Part 2 (x)
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I wanna say something and all I ask is that you read the whole thing before burning me at the stake.
There are always horrible things happening. There are always ppl who are suffering and dying. There are always corrupt politicians. There are always human rights violations. There are always tragedies. There is always misinformation and exploitation. War is always looming on the horizon or busting in the back gate. The world is always fucked up.
That fact does not mean that the lives affected matter any less than our own. It does not mean that we don't do what we can to help. It does mean that we cannot afford to put our lives on hold while a horrible thing consumes us.
I'm sure that, if your parent/sibling/partner/best friend had a medical emergency, you would gladly do whatever you needed to do to be there. I'm sure that you would sacrifice sleep, skip meals, call in to work, and be by their side until they were stable. You can afford to do that when those emergencies are infrequent and relatively brief.
You cannot do that with the world's emergencies. They are not infrequent. They are not relatively brief. You have to sleep, eat and shower. You have to pay your bills. You have to survive.
Daily life goes on.
It feels unjust. Of course it does. How can you possibly go about the mundane like nothing's going on? You Don't. You go about the mundane like there are horrible things happening. You make the adjustments you can sustain without sacrificing your well-being. You make drastic changes for as long as you can, when you simply can't take it anymore, and then you step back, take a breath, and go grocery shopping. You have to. If you don't, you won't survive the horrible thing.
No one who is going thru a horrible thing wants you to self-destruct. There's so much good you can do over the course of your life if you maintain that life. Adding your name to the list of casualties will prevent all of that good from happening. You have to survive.
And that includes the things that seem optional, bc those things aren't actually optional at all. You need to laugh. You need to watch movies and love your pets and go for walks. You need food that tastes good and clothes that make you feel confident. You need that show you'll regret not seeing. You need to get takeout and take naps. You need to have the weight lifted frequently, so you can heal the parts of you that get worn.
If you aren't living as well as you can, while making adjustments you can afford to make, you will not survive.
Please survive.
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One day, you comes across the staffbot in the abandoned theater.
There is a fine layer of dust to them, just as there is on everything else in the room. You are hesitant to even walk in, at first. You climb the stares from stage right, approaching with enough time to let them back away if they wanted to. They don't. You come up so you are face to face with them. Though frozen in an empty, static pose, their eyes are dusky, lifeless. You stare for a while. It's odd, seeing your reflection like this.
You take the time to lower their suspended hands to a more relaxed position. You straighten their hat and adjust the front of their vest, dusting off the shoulders. You stand, looking at them for a while.
You don't check as you leave and carefully, noiselessly, close the door behind you, but you know their head turned to follow your silent departure. Both you know it will be a long time before you return. Hopefully, they do not blame you. No one ever likes coming to a silent theater to look upon the long-cold corpse of themselves.
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