#thanking tumblr user bluedillylee for slapping me on the face with their art and making me finish this after two weeks. it's an honor

[cherryjuicegf]

"Leaving without a goodbye?"

His voice echoes like a lost melody in the quiet forest and makes Yennefer stop. Her lips form a short smile.

Truth is, she thought it would be better. Seeing the last of him in a far away part of her memory, because this was no time for weakness, no time to let him steal all of the strings left that hold her facade together, and make her face what's underneath. But oh, how her knees give in, relieved.

How about this then, a weakness welcomed, waiting for her with open arms.

She turns around. "No use, I'm afraid. You always pop up in my way like a stubborn sprout."

This, except it's him, here, once again, somehow still standing, perhaps the only one.

Jaskier laughs. He laughs at their old quip, but it's nothing like the way he used to, no bite or sharpness or preparation for a comeback. It's only breathy and fond, and tired. He is tired. His eyes, bloodshot under the moonlight, awake and waiting for something that will always slip through his fingers. His shoulders slumped and untouched, a wailing space hollowed in their place, his hands hung and soft and gaping, empty.

She takes pity in them as he opens his arms.

It's the same old thing. Unchangeable among everything, it makes for wretched comfort. For she can feel his arms wrapped around her back before they actually reach her, and his face buried in her hair before she has the time to settle in his warmth, and hold him close, closer still as he clings, as though by clinging he will rip away a part of her and keep it still on him after she's gone.

She feels the lump choking his throat as she presses herself against him. His hand, on her hair. On her head. Shaking.

"My darling, darling witch."

This time his voice is no melody. No, it crawls, writhes, dies on her shoulder where his head is buried, sobbing and voiceless and wrecked, and yet still tender, like a broken heart.

She bites her lips in a smile and hopes to carve it upon his chest. She can't afford no more tears. "Pretentious, foolish bastard." Jaskier muffles a chuckle in her hair, and she takes just a few more moments, just to memorize the bruises his desperate fingers leave on her back. Then, she pulls back slowly, looks at him. "Take care of–"

"You know I will take care of him," he interrupts, solemn like a vow, undoubtable. As though he was offended just by her thought of requesting.

Yennefer stares at him for a few seconds, a fond, vexed look in her eyes. "Yourself," she says firmly and watches as Jaskier's expression falls at once, and his eyes suddenly gleam just a bit foggier than before. With a sigh, she holds his head between her hands and places a kiss on his forehead. "Take care of yourself."

Somehow, she knows he will.

Jaskier holds her wrists like he would hold an injured flower, and presses his lips just there, above her pulse. "You too. Be safe." Then, as though knowing she was never one to make promises, he ties her to himself. "For me."

A clever move. She doesn't say her ties are already laid elsewhere. He knows, he always did.

Only, with a smile, she nods.

A last caress on his cheek, a place to leave her weakness behind, and know it will be safe. One last admission of longing before they bury it in the ground. Then, they let their hands drop and she turns away without looking back.

And there, once again, the last one standing, he looks at her fading form from behind.

#thanking tumblr user bluedillylee for slapping me on the face with their art and making me finish this after two weeks. it's an honor #anyway they met in brokilon anya and joey told me themselves #the witcher #yennskier #yennefer of vengerberg #jaskier #chrysa writes #stress relief angst to ignore the city flooding as we speak. btw #fic recs #pats witcher fandom on the head yall are dead already?