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When Geralt screams at Jaskier, it takes him a few hours to calm down. Only minutes to rush and run down the mountain. To find him and apologize.
To ask him if he still wants to go to the coast.
Jaskier smiles at him, his eyes full of light.
They never reach the coast.
Or actually, Geralt does. He does because he made a promise. He carries the lute in one hand, ashes on another and guilt in his heart.
Jaskier's blood lies as a stain on the grass at a side of the road between the mountain and the coast.
"I'm here, Jask," he says to the air.
His only answer is the roar of the ocean, constant and unchanging in its clamor. Like the roar in his heart, screaming at the sky because of his lost love.
It's the wind then, that answers. It plays in his ears, creates a melody. It blows against the lute, it hits the cords.
A few notes come out. They're soft, they're sad. It's not a cry but a lament.
"I'm sorry, love," the lute sings, "I'm sorry for not being resilient enough. I'm sorry for leaving you alone."
"No," Geralt cries. "I'm the one that's sorry. I couldn't protect you, couldn't-"
The wind roars now, the ocean shouts.
"Don't be stupid," they said. "It was not your fault. He wouldn't want this."
But Geralt is deafened by his pain and doesn't understand the words floating around him.
The lute weeps with the wind.
Eventually, the wind calms down. The ocean goes back to a soft lull. "Let the witcher cry," they said. "He needs it."
Some time later, could have been hours, could have been weeks. The witcher stands and opens the bag with the last remains.
The wind accepts the ashes. "I'll deliver them."
The ocean receives them. "I'll guard them."
And the sand, silent so far, keeps accumulating the tears from the witcher.
"I love you, Jask. Should've told you earlier. I hope you knew tho before-"
It's the humming bird that delivers the final answer. It chirps in front of Geralt. Small and feeble, fleeting as most beautiful things. It shouldn't be here, not this far north, not this close to winter.
But it's here nevertheless.
It chirps demanding Geralt's attention loudly
"I knew," he says. His feathers bright under the sunlight. Demanding attention.
Geralt laughs then, even as tears fall.
The bird flies away. He was only here a moment, but Geralt saw him.
He leaves with a lighter heart.
The wind, the ocean and the sand, they will remember the song of the witcher and his pain. They'll keep singing it.
Far away, the hummingbird chirps, it has found a new flower.
"I love you too," Jaskier says even though not even the wind can listen him.
Geralt smiles.