Ooh, creature!Jaskier using his powers to help Geralt? But NOT being afraid of Geralt finding out, they're both Peak Himbo and Jaskier thought Geralt knew and Geralt thought Jaskier was like. An odd human who'd just been hanging around a Witcher too long, thats why he was a Feral Bard
Both Geralt and the old god freeze and then dramatically turn around to face Jaskier who’s slowly making his way through the swamp, wincing and cursing in several languages.
“Really, Flynz, I realize that some think I’m all for water and everything but this is a bit much,” he sniffs, looking down at the mud and grime underneath them.
Geralt and the god, Flynz apparently are still frozen, staring at Jaskier as if they’re seeing him for the first time and well, the Witcher never knows what he may encounter while talking with gods but Jaskier always spells trouble.
“You,” the old god snarls suddenly, getting bigger and bigger, flames bursting from his feet.
The flesh from his body begins to fall down grotesquely, showing a brittle and old skeleton, something like a roar sounding from behind his back. Instead of getting scared though, Jaskier just rolls his eyes and sighs, hands on his hips. He looks remarkably bored and a bit annoyed too.
Geralt remembers seeing the same look on his face while listening to a very disappointing student, and it’s as if he’s not realizing the danger they’re in.
The old god seems to grow until suddenly Jaskier snaps. His blue eyes narrow in anger and then the bard is shoving Geralt back, shielding him with his body. Geralt can only gape at the bard’s back as he walks closer and closer to the god and it seems as if the shadows are growing larger, the night becoming darker.
Their enemy seems to notice it too as he pauses suddenly and looks down, shrinking back down when he sees Jaskier. The bard is always gorgeous but Geralt knows that he’s astonishingly beautiful while angry. He’s a force of nature and Geralt stops doubting that he can take the god on.
“This really is enough,” Jaskier hisses, though it’s not only him speaking. Between the letters, other voices slip, whispers like curses curling around each sound, echoing in the bog.
The earth beneath their feet trembles, water starting to swish in the swamp, unhappy with what’s going on.
If Geralt was worried before, he’s downright frightened now. There’s no way he’ll be able to defeat whatever’s coming their way. Each hair on his body is standing tall and a deeply buried flight instinct is rearing its head.
Just as he’s about to reach for his sword, Jaskier lays a hand on his arm and squeezes. Geralt glances down and frowns when instead of neat nails, there are sharp claws at the end of each long finger, Jaskier’s smooth skin now greyer.
He lets his eyes slide up and his heart stops in his chest when Geralt realizes just what exactly is wrong with Jaskier - he doesn’t look human anymore.
It’s a subtle difference, a slightly more ashy tone of his skin, deeper eyes, darker and long hair, a slight stubble. But Geralt is a Witcher and each of his senses is screaming that there’s a Greater God in front of him, angry and ready to fight.
“You killed those people,” Jaskier, whoever he is, says. Almost hisses. Roars. Howls.
There’s Jaskier and there’s a wolf, a bear, a snake, an owl soaring over their heads, a whisper of leathery wings behind Jaskier’s back. Suddenly, Geralt realizes that they’re standing under a willow and then he gasps as Veles brings him closer to the god’s body, glaring at the other deity.
“I am a fair one, Flyntz. You almost killed moją duszę, my everything. You’re stupid. Fearless but thoughtless as well. You shall pay for your mistakes.”
Jaskier, Veles, whoever he is, doesn’t wait for an answer. Responding to an unspoken order, the dead rise from the ground and drag the other god down, silent and determined. There’s music playing from somewhere, sounding just like Jaskier’s lute, Jaskier’s lute that’s made from willow. They stand together as the other deity wails and screams for mercy and then life resumes around them.
Slowly, Geralt turns to face Jaskier, the god of earth, water and underground, the trickster of god magic, protector of travelling musicians. Veles’ doublet is made of black wool and silk now and Geralt just sighs, staring at the other man.
Looking into his eyes, the Witcher is absolutely sure that Jaskier never told him because the bard was sure he knew.
Now, how to break it to the god that he may have chosen the most obtuse and stupid person on the Continent to be his soul.
