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fic update: fugitive ch 2
May. 24th, 2020 09:27 pmvia https://ift.tt/2TzSDlI
So inspiration struck after all on a chapter 2 of Fugitive, the one where it’s a sequel to Little Fishie and Geralt comes across a despondent Jaskier who’s dealing with some awful family shit. I’d initially written about 2,000 words beyond what I posted, but it wasn’t going anywhere so I’d truncated it and posted that first chapter, but eventually I wrote uhhh over 10,000 words more, and introduced new characters and made a whole Thing out of it, so.
Here’s chapter 2 and there’s a chapter 3 that’ll come soonish.
But, meanwhile, it did what it was supposed to, and got me out of my slump of not being able to write the big climactic Dick Appointment Scene for Jaskier in the Ancient Sea, so here’s hoping the next Ancient Sea update comes next.
Still, here’s a little tide-over, featuring Jaskier having a real shitty day and Geralt dealing with some consequences of his own powers. A gentle trigger warning for a desperation-born suicide attempt and some magical mind control.
Geralt heard a voice, and slowed his pace to approach in complete silence. “– be daft, lad, we won’t hurt ye,” a stranger was saying, in coaxing tones. “He only wants to know that you’re all right.”
“If that were true,” Jaskier said, scornful, “then you could leave me here and just go and tell him you’d seen me, so I think the fuck not.”
How was Jaskier managing a standoff? Geralt had left a crossbow behind, amid Roach’s baggage, but he didn’t think Jaskier would particularly know how to use it. Maybe he was up a tree, and the bounty hunters– surely, that was what they were– were trying to talk him down. He hadn’t demonstrated any particular climbing ability in the time Geralt had known him, but then, he was forever full of surprises. But his voice didn’t sound like he was up high.
Geralt could see the back of at least one of the bounty hunters, now. Big man, hands out, empty, facing away. Another at his right, a few yards away, likewise standing still, no weapons out, though knives in their belts. Third one was out of sight.
“Come now, boy, you don’t want to hurt yourself,” said the hunter Geralt couldn’t see. “It’s not like you’re a wanted criminal or somewhat. There’s no call for this sort of histrionics.”
“You don’t know what there’s call for,” Jaskier said, a vicious edge to his tone. “It’s not your business to know, or I wager you wouldn’t have this job.”
All three hunters gasped in alarm in unison, the two Geralt could see making visible flinching motions– starting forward, as if to stop something, and then froze, simultaneously.
“No,” said one of the ones Geralt could see, “don’t–”
“I read this correctly, then,” Jaskier said, sounding deadly calm. “You get nothing if I’m dead. I suppose that’s a valuable bit of information.”
Did Jaskier have himself hostage?
So inspiration struck after all on a chapter 2 of Fugitive, the one where it’s a sequel to Little Fishie and Geralt comes across a despondent Jaskier who’s dealing with some awful family shit. I’d initially written about 2,000 words beyond what I posted, but it wasn’t going anywhere so I’d truncated it and posted that first chapter, but eventually I wrote uhhh over 10,000 words more, and introduced new characters and made a whole Thing out of it, so.
Here’s chapter 2 and there’s a chapter 3 that’ll come soonish.
But, meanwhile, it did what it was supposed to, and got me out of my slump of not being able to write the big climactic Dick Appointment Scene for Jaskier in the Ancient Sea, so here’s hoping the next Ancient Sea update comes next.
Still, here’s a little tide-over, featuring Jaskier having a real shitty day and Geralt dealing with some consequences of his own powers. A gentle trigger warning for a desperation-born suicide attempt and some magical mind control.
Geralt heard a voice, and slowed his pace to approach in complete silence. “– be daft, lad, we won’t hurt ye,” a stranger was saying, in coaxing tones. “He only wants to know that you’re all right.”
“If that were true,” Jaskier said, scornful, “then you could leave me here and just go and tell him you’d seen me, so I think the fuck not.”
How was Jaskier managing a standoff? Geralt had left a crossbow behind, amid Roach’s baggage, but he didn’t think Jaskier would particularly know how to use it. Maybe he was up a tree, and the bounty hunters– surely, that was what they were– were trying to talk him down. He hadn’t demonstrated any particular climbing ability in the time Geralt had known him, but then, he was forever full of surprises. But his voice didn’t sound like he was up high.
Geralt could see the back of at least one of the bounty hunters, now. Big man, hands out, empty, facing away. Another at his right, a few yards away, likewise standing still, no weapons out, though knives in their belts. Third one was out of sight.
“Come now, boy, you don’t want to hurt yourself,” said the hunter Geralt couldn’t see. “It’s not like you’re a wanted criminal or somewhat. There’s no call for this sort of histrionics.”
“You don’t know what there’s call for,” Jaskier said, a vicious edge to his tone. “It’s not your business to know, or I wager you wouldn’t have this job.”
All three hunters gasped in alarm in unison, the two Geralt could see making visible flinching motions– starting forward, as if to stop something, and then froze, simultaneously.
“No,” said one of the ones Geralt could see, “don’t–”
“I read this correctly, then,” Jaskier said, sounding deadly calm. “You get nothing if I’m dead. I suppose that’s a valuable bit of information.”
Did Jaskier have himself hostage?
