Chapter Text
The sun outside shone brightly, his horse was tired, his mane dulled by the dust gathered over the long journey to the small town. Jaskier saw the tall shape of the inn over the hill he sighed of relief. A town where there was an easy contract and good pay. Finally.
As he approached the stables, a smell other than manure hit his sensitive nose, a smell of death, of mutated flesh and blood. He cast a look to a brown mare drinking from a watering hole, and smiled.
The inn’s walls were showered in gold with light coming in from the windows, the old wood looked almost soft when saturated with the sun’s rich colours. The Witcher could smell it in the room, someone like him, and he was sure the other knew he was there, too.
He had hoped to meet Aiden, or maybe Shrodinger, his friends and training companions, but now knew that it couldn’t possibly be them. He knew their smell, and this was different.
At the corner of the inn, shrouded in darkness, was a cloaked man. His hair, peeking from his hood, was white but dirty, he was drinking from a mug and pointedly kept his eyes on it, refusing to raise his face.
Jaskier gave a longing look to a free table right beside a window, where the light from the sun hit just right and promised a warm seat, and headed towards the dark cold spot where the other sat.
“Love the way you just… sit in the corner and brood.”
The other’s eyes shifted towards the side as he scowled.
“I’m here to drink alone.”
Oh, well, always lovely company, my kind.
“Oh, come on, it’s rare to cross paths lately, with all of us dying out and whatnot.”
The white-haired Witcher glared at him as he sat. Jaskier’s blue, slitted eyes found the other’s medallion on his chest.
“Wolf school, oh, fun! Haven’t seen much of your lot — well, you know.”
He laughed awkwardly as the white-hot smell of pain and anger came off the other. Yeah, change of subject, now.
“So, white hair, wolf school, you must be the famous Geralt of Rivia.”
The other growled at him and took his coin, sitting up.
“Oh, please, don’t leave, I’ll be silent if you want.”
The Witcher shot him a look of doubt, but spotting the maid coming towards them probably decided that lunch was more important than him, and sat down again.
“Greetings. Can… can I get any… anything for you?”
The girl positively stank of fear, but you didn’t need a Witcher’s nose to know she was afraid, looking at her was more than enough, her hands were shaking where they rested on her lap, clutching an old, chipped serving tray for dear life.
Jaskier smiled wide, keeping his sharp teeth concealed behind his lips. He felt her relax somewhat. That was good enough.
“A beer for me and my friend, and two plates of whatever speciality this inn serves, please.”
He said in his sweetest voice, the one he reserved for when he wanted things out of people, and it worked, as usual. The maid bowed curtly and went towards the bar, bringing back two mugs of beer almost immediately, taking the cup Geralt had already emptied with her.
Jaskier simply sat for a moment, trying his hardest to read the other’s body language before speaking. All he could get was scent, the other’s body was pure indifference, no doubt rehearsed over a lifetime, his eyes hidden under white strands of hair.
But scent doesn't lie.
“Someone is pissy, uh?”
The man sent a glare towards Jaskier, his lips twisted into a snarl.
“Be glad I’m not slitting your throat, cat.”
Oh. He knows already?
To be fair, it didn’t take much to figure out his school if you knew what to look for, Jaskier reasoned to himself.
Even without his medallion around his neck, a hazard in his profession really, his blue slitted eyes, his frame, his demeanour… he was quite sure even his scent smelled of botched mutations. All those things gave him away. Too easily.
“That’s not nice.”
He smiled warily, hoping for de-escalation, but Geralt’s only answer was a low growl.
Jaskier looked down, then moved onto a safe topic. Better this way.
“Listen, I got a contract, pretty sure there’s no monster, but there’s money. We take care of it together and split the reward.”
The other arched an eyebrow. Probably asked himself if I’ve already gone mad.
“And why would I do that?”
Jaskier shrugged, but his smile was reappearing fast on his face. In that moment the maid-girl got them their plates, filled with boar and potatoes. Not much seasoning, but the portions looked filling at the very least.
She set them down on the table and positively fled behind the counter. Well, he figured a small town like this didn’t get Witchers often, let alone two sitting together.
Geralt was no longer waiting for his response and had started eating; Jaskier decided to use this time to talk, the other may just very well leave after finishing his meal, and judging by how fast he was shovelling the meat in his maws, it wouldn’t take long.
“It’s the only contract in the area, next town with any prospect is a week’s ride at least. Furthermore, it’s almost winter, only two months left, and the wolf’s school fortress is at least a month’s travel from here, if not more. You need to buy provisions, and you need to get the coin fast. This is a low danger contract, possibly over within half a day, and if we work together there’s even less risk. 75 ducats each.”
The other had stopped eating at some point during his rambling and was looking over at him with a tired expression.
“Do all cats talk so much or is it your own brand of failed mutagens?”
Jaskier pressed his lips in a line, his sharp teeth — fangs really— dug slightly into the taut flesh.
“And it wouldn’t be any safer,” Geralt added, as if in an afterthought.
“What do you mean, not any safer? We could watch each other’s backs!”
Geralt had finished his meal and was standing up. “I don’t trust your kin, cat, and I feel you would sooner stab me in the back thanwatch it.”
A wave of guilt washed over Jaskier, he haden’t even been there, during the massacre, he wasn’t even mutated yet. Not my fault.
“I’ll find another contract. Enjoy the town.”
And he left, without as much as a backward glance. His swords in his hand. Jaskier realised for the first time how tall the other was.
Looking down at his food he noticed a few coins, enough for both of their meals.
Fuck me.
He shovelled the food down as quickly as he could, pretty damn quickly, and while still swallowing a mouthful ran after the other, following his scent.