#intelligenceof6

they’d spent the evening swapping stories of BATTLE.

this was — rare, for yennefer, especially considering how as the night went on and the shadows grew longer, she grew not only more INTERESTED but also more talkative. at first it had been harmless stories — tell me about your greatest foe, or your favorite weapon, or this, or that — over dinner yennefer had brought over because, contrary to what grog might believe, straight-up ale did not count as a valid meal.

but as the night wore on, they’d moved from the table to the couch and now sat side-by-side, trying to share it as best they could. it — SHOULD have been awkward, at the very least, what with the way grog’s weight made the couch sag sharply in the middle, and especially with the way he took up the vast majority of the space without even really intending to. 

but it wasn’t. instead it felt — safe. it felt RIGHT. 

because the conversation had moved from the BATTLE to the bloodshed, and there were more pauses now as each of them remembered that there was no glory without GUTS — and pain, and suffering, and exhaustion, and sights that SEARED themselves into the back of your eyelids to prevent you from ever sleeping in a completely dark room again. 

the shiver SWELLED up her spine before she could stop it, driving a tremor through her body, a tangible display of the very same weakness she’d sworn never to show. normally this was the part where she’d pull back and HIDE behind six layers of impenetrable frost. but for some — for some reason, she found herself leaning IN instead of away, drawn to the goliath like a moth to a flame. she didn’t NEED her magic to know that there was no judgment, to know that he was safe. 

which was why, with the smallest of sighs, yennefer closed her eyes and curled up against grog’s side. raven-black hair spilled over scarred alabaster skin as she snuggled down into him, burying her face in the crook of his neck. there was no room for COLD here, not with the heat emanating from him. so, after a moment or two, she reached out to run soft fingers over brazen knuckles as she nuzzled his neck and placed a gossamer kiss against his skin. 

                        She knows him at this point, though it’s only through the battles he fights and the broken jaws he leaves behind. His reputation proceeds him, though it isn’t a bad thing -- he’s a good fighter and a decent fellow -- hell, she’s seen worse fighting for good causes. CHAOTIC ones don’t make much of a difference. Not here, anyway. He’s not doing any more than scratching an itch, and putting men with much bigger egos than they should have in their place. She watches him fight, and she can see his ability. He’s a knack for this, but he could do much more with REFINING his technique. She simply has to wait for the opportunity to arise. And it does.

@intelligenceof6​ / send “3, 2, 1…” for a new year’s kiss from my muse

they’d been practicing this for HOURS — over and over, putting names with letters and symbols written in the dirt, because grog’s large hands had made quick work of all yennefer’s pencils and pens and even the ONLY quill she had. and as the clock neared midnight, with the new year swelling fast on its heels, yennefer lounged on the sloping hillside, snuggled in a black cloak trimmed with white fur, while the goliath sat beside her in defiance of the cold and the wind. he was frustrated; he HAD to be, what with all the work she’d put him through today, counting and adding and taking away. 

but someone had cheated him out of hard-earned coin today because he couldn’t do simple sums, and though yennefer had managed to have WORDS with the thief and retrieve the money, she’d be damned if she was going to let it happen again. hence why she’d spent the better part of new year’s eve drilling him on numbers ( using ale as a bribe ) until the hour grew late and they’d BOTH decided they’d had enough. 

and now —

far below the hill they were nestled on, crowds began to chant: sixty, fifty-nine, fifty-eight —

yennefer stirred. a pale hand appeared from the folds of her black cloak and brushed against his shoulder, demanding his gaze and attention in the GENTLEST of ways. for a brief moment her eyes flickered with enough depth to rival the stars. her lips parted. 

“ready?”

grog’s brow furrowed.

for several moments they waited, until the chanting grew louder and the numbers grew lower, until finally even yennefer spoke again, in tandem with the rhythm of the city. “ten, nine, eight, seven — ”

there was a slight, gut-wrenching PAUSE —

and then grog joined in. 

together they counted as yennefer’s fingers somehow found their way between his own. sometimes they had to pause so he could glance down at the shaky numbers drawn into the dirt before them — their own little cheat sheet — but yennefer didn’t mind, not even when they were only on ‘four’ when the rest of the city was celebrating, not even when they finally finished SEVERAL moments after the new year had officially begun. 

because he’d done it. slowly, perhaps, and with the occasional long pause, but he’d DONE it. 

unable to contain her joy and practically GLOWING with pride, yennefer rose to her knees and laid her hand against his cheek, not even bothering to hide her smile. “that was perfect, grog,” she almost — ALMOST — laughed, before — before deciding to hell with it, to hell with it all, and leaning in to plant a fiercely pleased and REWARDINGLY warm kiss against his lips. and she didn’t pull away, didn’t stop, didn’t lessen until long after the fireworks had stopped coloring the skies above them. 

only — only after it was QUIET did she release him. and even that she did with a smile. 

that’s my girlfriend!!!!!

          METAL WIGGLES AGAINST wood as gloved fingers jiggle the handle, an effort in vain as she attempts to gain access to her designated housing. Were it not for the lacking key necessary to get in, it might have gone smoother by far. It was only once she hears the approach of another that she glances over, noting him pause before the entrance. ❝ Oh, thank the Stars. You wouldn’t happen to be livin’ here, too, would ya? ❞ Placing one hand on her hip, she ponders briefly with a passing glance toward the locked door.

“TÚ!!” Standing mighty as ever, the Goddess does not allow him to take a step any further into his path. Her finger pointing at him retreats, only for her to slip around him and attempt grabbing his arm.