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Everything started on a starry night on the path. Jaskier was strutting alongside Geralt, who for once was walking instead of riding on Roach. A hunt had happened earlier that day and Jaskier was trying to immortalize it in song, but alas, inspiration was like a shy maiden that night, taunting him with her sweet smiles but always being just one step out of reach.
Suddenly, Geralt halted his steps and tilted his head, his nostrils flaring as he scented the air around them. Jaskier stopped his steps as well and looked around in anticipation. Could a monster be lurking nearby? Waiting to catch unsuspecting travelers off guard? While Jaskier continued to survey their surroundings and finding nothing out of the ordinary, Geralt seemed to think that the danger(was it danger) has passed. However, instead of continuing on the dirt road, he let go of Roach’s reins and took a few steps into the sparsely forested area on the side of the road with his nose up in the air, seeming to be following some scent to follow.
Now, as the years passed and Jaskier and Geralt’s friendship strengthened, Jaskier had been privy to more and more of Geralt’s eccentric witcher habits, and he was grateful for it as the only reason Geralt would have let him observe those habits was the trust that they have fostered. However, it has been years since Jaskier discovered a new little quirk that Geralt had kept hidden, and he was curious. Geralt hadn’t displayed such behavior before. Seeming to be led off the road by a scent while in a trance. Gingerly, Jaskier followed Geralt with Roach in tow.
The cause of Geralt’s abnormal behavior was revealed just a few steps into the forest. The unsuspecting little flowers were in rich maroon, a layer of frost covered its fleshy leaves and petals despite it being a warm summer night. Geralt knelt down to cautiously remove only the flower bulbs from the stems, not touching the leaves, and when he turned around to ask Jaskier to pass him one of the empty glass bottles from his saddle bad, Jaskier could see that his pupils were fully dilated. While it was true that Geralt will expand his pupils to see better in the dark, Geralt had fully dilated them into two dark circles, leaving only a thin ring of gold for his iris. It was very uncanny for Jaskier to see Geralt’s pupils enlarge so much, and that particular night with all its natural light sources in the sky certainly didn’t warrant that.
It was after collecting the flowers when the strangeness began. For the first hour, Jaskier waited patiently for Geralt to gave an explanation in vain. For the second hour, Jaskier vaguely alluded to the events that occurred an hour ago, prompting for an explanation, but instead of explaining the situation Geralt adverted his eyes and pretended not to know what Jaskier was talking about. It was then Jaskier’s excellent intuition as a poet always in search of a good story began to act up. Jaskier was sure: Geralt was hiding something embarrassing. In Geralt’s line of work there had of course been numerous instances that Geralt wished to never recall again, and as his best friend, Jaskier would never poke at those badly healed wounds. But this was not that, Jaskier could feel it. Having known Geralt for many years, Jaskier could tell that Geralt was not recalling any painful memory. His shoulders were relaxed and he sported an almost nonexistent smile across his lips. He was adverting his eyes like a schoolboy who was caught snacking in class. In fact, if Jaskier imagined a pink blush across Geralt’s cheeks, his face would be what a classic embarrassed happy expression would be.
For the next two weeks, Jaskier tried all sorts of schemes to get Geralt to diverge the secrets of the maroon flowers. He has tried bribing Geralt with ale he procured himself (so that discriminatory innkeepers would not try adding spit into a witcher’s drink). He has tried to get Geralt drunk but heavily underestimated a witcher’s tolerance for alcohol(he forgot that strong alcohol is the base for most witcher potions). And when both previous plans have failed, Jaskier resorted to yipping incessantly about it beside Geralt’s ear, he figured that the witcher would relent sooner or later. This plan failed as well as Jaskier soon found other things to be more interested in.
Another six weeks past and Jaskier has almost forgotten about the little red flowers that Geralt has collected off the side of the road that starry night. That’s why when Geralt finally decided to diverge the effects of the flowers, it caught Jaskier off guard.
It was evening when Geralt decided to tell Jaskier what was up with his flowers. Geralt had had a successful contract done that day(he had saved all of the seven missing children), and had been awarded generously by the alderman. The villagers had watered and fed both Geralt and Jaskier with a hearty meal and given them free lodgings for the next few nights. Geralt was feeling light-hearted and had decided to treat himself (with something).
After their dinner, Geralt called Jaskier to their shared room to inform him that he shall know about the flowers that they had picked up 2 months ago.
“But why tell me now?” Jaskier inquired curiously as he followed Geralt up the stairs of the inn they were staying at while scratching his cleanly shaven chin. “You were being so secretive when I asked about them before.”
“It would be easier if I showed you,” Geralt replied easily, turning his head to glance at the poet. Jaskier could swear that he saw the witcher’s eyes twinkle, despite his expression being fully neutral. “It’s like fisstech for witchers, but infinitely better.”
Once in the room, Geralt had moved to clear the floor of their belongings and took the bottle of flowers out from one of their bags, and uncorked the bottle. The flowers had already dried up between the time when Jaskier last saw them and him seeing them again. Instantly, Jaskier could see Geralt’s thin pupils dilate, seemingly to have caught a whiff of the drug. He popped two of the dried flowers out of the bottle and quickly sealed the bottle again.
“These are Beggartick blossoms,” the witcher explained. “They’re one of the main ingredients in fisstech. Try not to touch these as they’re mildly toxic to humans. The toxins can get into your blood through your skin, you see.” Geralt extended his gloved hands so Jaskier could have a closer look at the shriveled plants in his palm, having long lost the sense of mystical beauty they had before they were plucked. “These are not toxic to witchers, of course”, Geralt continued to explain, now closing his fist to crush the flowers as he did. “But they make us high, similar to how fisstech works on you, but without the withdrawal that fisstech has on you if you get addicted.”
“Wait,” Jaskier held up his hand as he asked his question, a habit that he has not been able to shake since his days studying at Oxenfurd University. “Do you mean you’re not affected by fisstech? You don’t get high?”
“Not like you do, it mostly makes me slow and dizzy.” Geralt replied.
“So, what now?” Jaskier asked again, eyeing the crushed flowers in the center of Geralt’s palm. “Do you just, rub it all over yourself?” Jaskier questioned as he met Geralt’s golden eyes again. Curiosity bubbling out of him in waves.
“Okay, so… this might look weird,” Geralt hesitates, trying to find the right words to reassure Jaskier of what’s to come. “But just know that this is safe for me and I have done this before.” And without any further warning, Geralt stuffed the crushed flowers into his mouth.
The effects seemed to slowly kick in since Geralt’s pupils were already enlarged from smelling the plant at the start. Geralt started by rubbing his face into his hands as he lowered his body to the floor. Then suddenly, Geralt’s body started to emit a rumbling sound that was decisively not coming from his throat. Jaskier was flabbergastered. He had never seen Geralt display such animalistic behavior, even when he was poisoned and lethargic from the witcher potions he usually drank for his contracts. However, Jaskier noticed that there was a significant difference between Geralt’s disposition from when he was actually poisoned by toxins he had ingested. Geralt seemed calm and relaxed, even as he rolled around on the spot where he must have dropped some of the crushed flower dust.
As fascinating as it was looking at his friend rolling on the floor while trying not to be worried for him. Jaskier had to remove himself when Geralt began to foam slightly at the mouth. It didn’t seem like Geralt was in any discomfort but the display was making Jaskier uneasy. However, Jaskier knew that Geralt knew his own body and reactions (and not to mention herbs) better than Jaskier. So he needed to trust that Geralt was alright like he said. As he left the room and locked the door, Jaskier couldn’t help but feel a sense of familiarity at seeing Geralt’s movements. He couldn’t place where he had seen that reaction before.
The next morning, when Jaskier returned to him and Geralt’s room after the sun has already risen far into the sky, he was surprised to find Geralt tucked into a corner of the room snoring softly. It was odd for the witcher to not be up so late into the morning, and what was even more surreal was the position he was in. Geralt had somehow forced himself into the corner with his belly facing the wall, his head folded back against his back and leg curled in such a way that his foot was tangled in his hair, a position no doubt will make even the most talented contortionist from Novigrad's traveling circus jealous. Jaskier knew that Geralt was capable of incredible feats of acrobatics, but he would have never guessed that his friend was so physically flexible.
Jaskier had finally realized why Geralt’s movements the day prior were so familiar to him. The ‘baggertick’ or whatever flowers, they weren’t witchers’ fisstech. They were witchers’ catnip!