[ The narrowing of his gaze is familiar in a way that charms her. It shouldn't. Geralt is not remotely a charming man by any objective measure, and yet the absence is its own charm. He has no guile, no charisma, and it's an incredible relief from Aretuza and the sorcerers and diplomats and royals she has kept company with for decades.
Thus she cannot help the lopsided, wry smile as he tries to figure her out. Yennefer suspects he already has, but she won't give up the game that easily. This is part of the entertainment of it, and she does have the gubernatorial candidate whose wife she is impersonating to consider. ]
Mr. Lynch isn't interested in trinkets and history. He prefers to look towards the building of a bright future. [ And what a bright future it is. Blinding. ] Were you hoping for an introduction?
[It comes delivered in that dry, obligated, familiar sort of way that Geralt often answers questions that everyone already knows the answers to. The only thing it serves to do is remind the person how little patience he has for the dance of mannerisms he's being asked to play just by being here.
And to hide the minute flaring of his nostrils -- instinctive, like he expects to smell something that isn't there.]
I wasn't talking about Lynch. I was talking about you.
[He doesn't like her tone. Not that it takes much. But the more she talks, the more he swears he has seen her before -- and not as the governor's wife.
The more she talks, the more she tilts those shoulders, the more he searches for that familiar scent that isn't there.
But if he's wrong and she is in fact the governor's wife, it would not be wise for him to attempt to intimidate her here. Instead, he cleverly angles his body so that nobody without very keen eyes would spot her behind his hulking form.]
It's a recent acquisition. I was told you weren't letting people in without one.
[All very honest. Maybe too honest.]
Truth is, madam, you'll have to ask the man I met shortly before I came if you are interested in, if further history is of interest to you.
[ She allows him to maneuver her with the ease of someone who is used to the dance, who knows precisely what he is doing, and allows it to take place. But she does fold her arms over her chest, as if protecting herself. ]
You've gone to a lot of effort to get into this party. Are you suggesting that I leave with you, so that you can introduce me to your finder?
[This time, Geralt lets a smile play on his face, the sort he knows when he's reached checkmate. If this is indeed one of the Displaced, they would have two choices in front of them: cry for help, and risk his neck -- or give up the charade, and come clean to him.
After all, he all but admitted that he bullied someone out of their entry ticket. The governor's wife would surely be more interested in the relic's owner than a brigand who'd lied to find his way to meet her.]
But, if it suits the lady, I am patient enough to wait for a moment of more convenience.
[As much as he might be a brute, he isn't ignorant to the dance. If the governor thinks this woman is his wife, it would not suit him to simply steal her away when there are so many eyes about.]
[ No, it's never been his way to suggest. He's used to blunt force. Yennefer works her jaw in a familiar way, a way reminiscent of the old set it had before she'd been made perfect by Aretuza, and — ]
I think it better suits me to call security. [ He'll be fine. She's never felt a shadow of guilt in risking the neck of Geralt of Rivia. Mrs. Lynch raises her hand, and a woman with an undercut in a high-collared suit approaches. ] Escort this gentleman from the auction and remove his donation from the floor. I have reason to believe it was stolen.
His face falls once she calls his bluff. And his jaw goes stiff, his limbs stiff with them as his instinct to fight and resist kicks in. Miraculously, he does not raise his fists, though his eyes fixate on Yennefer even when his large arm is taken by the woman's.
He sees it, then. It's her.
He could call her bluff just as easy -- reach for a hand, where they are exposed, and reveal the glow to the crowd. Calling her name would do nothing but paint him a madman to the rest of the party.
Getting them both in trouble here would not serve him any, even if he longs to ruin her day now that he's figured her out.
He pushes the security's hand off of his arm firmly.]
No need. It is worth more than your patrons are willing to pay. But perhaps once you've had some time to think on my offer, you will take the time to contact me.
[Don't make me come after you. And then he turns to collect his "donation" and makes his way out, scowling twice as fiercely.]
[ Joseph Lynch returns to his wife while Geralt is being walked to the door with his artifact. He goes in for a kiss, and she turns her cheek to him, eyes on Geralt.
The lingering goodbye bothers her in ways she cannot put her finger on. His being here, of course, had nothing to do with a djinn and everything to do with the Displaced. But either of them could easily say the djinn had something to do with the fact that they were both in New Amsterdam at all: where one went, the other would inevitably appear. His doing. She'd said all she had to say to him on that subject.
The politician fumbles a little at the cold reception and asks, 'Who was that?' ]
An unhappy donor. [ She beams up at him after that, gathering her wits and placing her hand on the front of his suit, smoothing his shirt. ] Nothing for you to worry about.
[ It worries her, though — the ways in which Geralt of Rivia could ruin this for her. Enough for her to go through the effort of her newly learned magic, finessing the accounts linked to her implant, and retrieving Yennefer.Vengerberg from its depths, where she had changed all her usernames to that of Lynch's beloved.
And she sends him a message: ]
I hope you aren't expecting an apology. You forced my hand.
[ She doesn't have what she wants. Not yet. And he must know that she won't simply stop and back down until she has her choice back. It might be possible, for the reasons he has outlined, to break the rules and regain what was lost to her. She'll do anything for that.
No matter what a terrible mother he thinks she'd be. ]
Unless this is your way of saying you plan to help me.
[Ok so he was mostly kidding about Yennefer of Vengerberg’s fucking tour, but now that the plan is apparently legitimately on the table, he is. Feeling some kind of way about it.
That would mean they could fix him too. But he isn’t sure he wants it the same way that Yennefer seems to.]
Say you are right. They fix what Aretuza did to you. Is this still about the choice, or is it the child?
When Kings wage bloody wars and steal each others' land to ensure that they'll leave their mark on this world, history writes songs about them. All the power we have, it would be a shame for it to die with us.
[ That's what it's really about. Legacy. Something permanent that suggests Yennefer of Vengerberg was real, was here, was someone more than a disfigured farm girl with four marks.
'Us' makes it sound like she's sizing him up for the job of helping her with it, but really she just knows that he has the same problem she does — even if he doesn't consider it a problem to the same degree. ]
[ She offers this with the confidence of a woman who's surer of her ability to regain her magic than her uterus. It bothers her, though. Obviously. It has occurred to her that right now, she's twice barren, and that she'll kill whoever it was stole from her what she had bought with her womb.
Later.
After she has made use of this place. And it will be effortless, by comparison. She really believes that. ]
Why would I take their word? Months they've been here, and despite their abilities they've managed to gain little or no power in this world. Don't let small minds discourage you.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Thus she cannot help the lopsided, wry smile as he tries to figure her out. Yennefer suspects he already has, but she won't give up the game that easily. This is part of the entertainment of it, and she does have the gubernatorial candidate whose wife she is impersonating to consider. ]
Mr. Lynch isn't interested in trinkets and history. He prefers to look towards the building of a bright future. [ And what a bright future it is. Blinding. ] Were you hoping for an introduction?
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[It comes delivered in that dry, obligated, familiar sort of way that Geralt often answers questions that everyone already knows the answers to. The only thing it serves to do is remind the person how little patience he has for the dance of mannerisms he's being asked to play just by being here.
And to hide the minute flaring of his nostrils -- instinctive, like he expects to smell something that isn't there.]
I wasn't talking about Lynch. I was talking about you.
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If something catches my eye, I might consider it. Unlike my husband, I like to know the history of the piece. Where it's been. How it was acquired.
[ She tips her head in acknowledgment. ]
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[He doesn't like her tone. Not that it takes much. But the more she talks, the more he swears he has seen her before -- and not as the governor's wife.
The more she talks, the more she tilts those shoulders, the more he searches for that familiar scent that isn't there.
But if he's wrong and she is in fact the governor's wife, it would not be wise for him to attempt to intimidate her here. Instead, he cleverly angles his body so that nobody without very keen eyes would spot her behind his hulking form.]
It's a recent acquisition. I was told you weren't letting people in without one.
[All very honest. Maybe too honest.]
Truth is, madam, you'll have to ask the man I met shortly before I came if you are interested in, if further history is of interest to you.
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You've gone to a lot of effort to get into this party. Are you suggesting that I leave with you, so that you can introduce me to your finder?
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[This time, Geralt lets a smile play on his face, the sort he knows when he's reached checkmate. If this is indeed one of the Displaced, they would have two choices in front of them: cry for help, and risk his neck -- or give up the charade, and come clean to him.
After all, he all but admitted that he bullied someone out of their entry ticket. The governor's wife would surely be more interested in the relic's owner than a brigand who'd lied to find his way to meet her.]
But, if it suits the lady, I am patient enough to wait for a moment of more convenience.
[As much as he might be a brute, he isn't ignorant to the dance. If the governor thinks this woman is his wife, it would not suit him to simply steal her away when there are so many eyes about.]
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I think it better suits me to call security. [ He'll be fine. She's never felt a shadow of guilt in risking the neck of Geralt of Rivia. Mrs. Lynch raises her hand, and a woman with an undercut in a high-collared suit approaches. ] Escort this gentleman from the auction and remove his donation from the floor. I have reason to believe it was stolen.
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His face falls once she calls his bluff. And his jaw goes stiff, his limbs stiff with them as his instinct to fight and resist kicks in. Miraculously, he does not raise his fists, though his eyes fixate on Yennefer even when his large arm is taken by the woman's.
He sees it, then. It's her.
He could call her bluff just as easy -- reach for a hand, where they are exposed, and reveal the glow to the crowd. Calling her name would do nothing but paint him a madman to the rest of the party.
Getting them both in trouble here would not serve him any, even if he longs to ruin her day now that he's figured her out.
He pushes the security's hand off of his arm firmly.]
No need. It is worth more than your patrons are willing to pay. But perhaps once you've had some time to think on my offer, you will take the time to contact me.
[Don't make me come after you. And then he turns to collect his "donation" and makes his way out, scowling twice as fiercely.]
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The lingering goodbye bothers her in ways she cannot put her finger on. His being here, of course, had nothing to do with a djinn and everything to do with the Displaced. But either of them could easily say the djinn had something to do with the fact that they were both in New Amsterdam at all: where one went, the other would inevitably appear. His doing. She'd said all she had to say to him on that subject.
The politician fumbles a little at the cold reception and asks, 'Who was that?' ]
An unhappy donor. [ She beams up at him after that, gathering her wits and placing her hand on the front of his suit, smoothing his shirt. ] Nothing for you to worry about.
[ It worries her, though — the ways in which Geralt of Rivia could ruin this for her. Enough for her to go through the effort of her newly learned magic, finessing the accounts linked to her implant, and retrieving Yennefer.Vengerberg from its depths, where she had changed all her usernames to that of Lynch's beloved.
And she sends him a message: ]
I hope you aren't expecting an apology. You forced my hand.
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Why start now?
You did have a choice. Several, in fact.
You made it.
Don't dance around it.
When can I see you?
[Because, like...you know.]
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You made sure of that.
[ In case he wondered whether the years had eroded any of her bitterness over him stealing her choice, just as Aretuza had. ]
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Not that he would ever wish for such a thing.]
It is different here, Yen.
If I can feel it, I know you can.
[She was just as tied to magic (if not more) than he was.]
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Some things never change.
[ She doesn't have what she wants. Not yet. And he must know that she won't simply stop and back down until she has her choice back. It might be possible, for the reasons he has outlined, to break the rules and regain what was lost to her. She'll do anything for that.
No matter what a terrible mother he thinks she'd be. ]
Unless this is your way of saying you plan to help me.
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But you’re right.
Some things don’t change.
That includes my ability to help you.
And your qualifications for being a mother.
If you have other goals in mind, I am listening.
You might have noticed there is not much work for a Witcher here.
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Congratulations on your returned humanity. I hope you find it suits you.
[ Hers never had. ]
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Run around, fuck as many men as you can until one of them gives you a child?
Look around, Yen.
There’s hardly any children in this place.
For every ten men, there is one child.
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[ If anyone can fabricate a uterus from nothing or transfer another's into her, it's this place. That's fact.
Then she'll fuck as many men as she can until one of them gives her a child.
The ordering of steps in her plan is key, Geralt. It could have been you. ✌🏻 ]
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That would mean they could fix him too. But he isn’t sure he wants it the same way that Yennefer seems to.]
Say you are right.
They fix what Aretuza did to you.
Is this still about the choice, or is it the child?
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All the power we have, it would be a shame for it to die with us.
[ That's what it's really about. Legacy. Something permanent that suggests Yennefer of Vengerberg was real, was here, was someone more than a disfigured farm girl with four marks.
'Us' makes it sound like she's sizing him up for the job of helping her with it, but really she just knows that he has the same problem she does — even if he doesn't consider it a problem to the same degree. ]
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We have half that power here.
Half is generous.
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[ She offers this with the confidence of a woman who's surer of her ability to regain her magic than her uterus. It bothers her, though. Obviously. It has occurred to her that right now, she's twice barren, and that she'll kill whoever it was stole from her what she had bought with her womb.
Later.
After she has made use of this place. And it will be effortless, by comparison. She really believes that. ]
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Months they've been here, and despite their abilities they've managed to gain little or no power in this world.
Don't let small minds discourage you.
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I don't want the same things as you.
What will power do for you, in this world?
Do you plan to build a life here?
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My only family hated me even before they were long dead.
[ She'd left the company of the other sorceresses years ago. Seeking Geralt's had been a mistake. There's no one else she loves. ]
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