Patiently Puzzling
@weirdshitandthings this is just the first bit, so not much “action” hah.
It is well-known on the continent that those who call the skellige isles home are a tough sort with wind-worn faces and hearty spirits. Well, they certainly would need to be, wouldn't they?It was another miserable night spent staked out in the village center of Urialla Harbor. Despite the heat thrown from the roaring fire at the center of the sparse stone circle, J/askier felt the deep penetrating bite of cold from the sleet at his back.As a shiver crept up his spine he huffed his annoyance once again, earning him a sideways glance from the witcher keeping vigil.
"No one said you had to be here during-"
J/askier cut him off with a wave of his hand, "W-what? And miss the action? G-Gods' know you won't be forthcoming w-with the details".G/eralt regarded the young bard with exasperation. Wanted to remind him that he had insisted on accompanying the W/itcher on this journey to Skellige and that no one had said it was going to be pleasant.It was halfway through Autumn after all in a place that saw more rain than he suspected J/askier had ever seen in his life and yet, and yet… G/eralt had let him tag along. Again.
When he thinks on it he supposes that over the last decade his resolve against companionship along the path has been whittled away, piece by piece, until he finds that he quite enjoys the bard's company. Even if he’d rather eat his boots than admit it.
Skellige is a harsh place, might as well accept any form of comfort, even familiarity. He bites back a frown when he sees a shiver rip through the younger man furious enough that it ends with a jerk of one of his shoulders that nearly tosses him off balance. G/eralt tosses another log onto the fire and casts igni again.The heat thrown off is enough it seems to stop J/askier's shivering for the time being, but G/eralt finds it makes the damp in his clothes all the more uncomfortable.
“Ah.. that’s better!”, J/askier says in appreciation as he angles himself closer to his friend and the fire.
Thankfully, it won't be too much longer until G/eralt can be sure the Noonwraith he cast off earlier in the day was truly put to rest. As time slowly passes the storm rages on, the wind beginning to change direction, bringing with it a pungent and sharp odor from where the skelliger's had been burning brush and refuse from their fields.
G/eralt wasn't sure what sort of plant life gave off that kind of stink that it could affect him here, this close to the sea air which had a strange albeit abrasive cleansing effect but he found it a bit overwhelming. He inhales slowly, feeling the sharp twinge deep in his sinuses and can almost taste the acrid stench, his eyes watering enough he has to blink away the irritation.
He roughs at his nose with the back of a gloved hand and sniffles only once as the tickle abates and he casts another quick igni at the sorry excuse for a fire they have.
The wind picks but a bit and he grumbles to himself as he feels that prickling sensation return. With a catch in his breath, he turns away from the fire and smothers a wrenching Heh’HRSSSHH! into the damp folds of an elbow.
It takes a moment for the W/itcher to recover. It seems only the one needed to alleviate his discomfort, but the sneeze leaves him as they always do, a bit congested and dazed.
He feels the Bard's eyes on him and really it speaks volumes that he hasn't made some quip yet but this was usually the only time he was ever quiet, except when asleep.
This isn't the first time G/eralt has noticed... Well, he isn’t sure what he was noticing but over the years it was slowly puzzling itself into place. Whatever it was, it seemed to make the Bard both elated and yet troubled, and the W/itcher hadn't any idea how to broach the subject.
He suspected the younger man would immediately go on the defense and find some flowery way to change the subject. Though the curiosity really was beginning to weigh on him...
~~~~
To be continued, with the evidence G/eralt has collected over the years.