#halvplans

“you know, djaq told me something rather interesting the other day.” he’s at her window as always. briefly she imagines them when they were younger, when robin would climb up to her window after a long day as a boy-earl. “they said that, oh, you confessed your love to me when you thought I was to die.”

he sneaks downstairs, just like he does every morning he crashes here in this particular apartment of robin’s.  his half-brother usually doesn’t stay at this place, so they don’t usually cross paths when archer is pathetically slinking into one of robin’s five fucking bedrooms.  he hoists his backpack up onto his shoulder, jacket on, just stepping into shoes when the floor creaks.  and there’s robin, standing right there, staring right at him.  for once, archer doesn’t have words either.  he just stares back, bruised face, too-big clothes, and all. 

@halvplans​ 

@halvplans​

“IF THIS IS your idea of a plan then you should put much in charge.” sheets drying in the sun act as their protection, separating marian and robin from the rest of the world. though not the safest cover it was safer than their meetings in the halls the sheriff and his men wandered. “there’s risk and there’s idiocy. you manage to cross that line often.”

he works easily at the makeshift forge in the midst of the forest.    “ if you’ll leave that there, i can make it better. ”    he raises his eyebrows, nodding towards robin’s bow.    “ it’ll do, i suppose, but . . . ”    he shrugs, returning to his fire and the silver in hand.    “ . . .  i can improve it. ” 

geralt wakes first.  it is dark in the forest, and it takes a bit for him to see properly;  vesemir says it’s so for all young witchers, first getting accustomed to their still-developing eyes.  he blinks a few times, however, and everything becomes spectacularly clear.  there are other sleeping boys around him, the others from kaer morhen, and several strange, armed men.  only one stands close enough to touch, though geralt does not try.  he shifts back, actually, trying not to wince as he presses his bandaged palm  —  injured in training just yesterday  —  against the forest floor.    “ who are y-you?  where are we? ”