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not yet, not yet
Yennefer of Vengerberg has no time for anything as petty and insignificant as soulmarks, but that's not to say she doesn't notice them. She's not stupid; as soon as she sees the Mark on the bard's back, she knows, in that bone-deep, instinctual way, that it's linked to Geralt. It makes more sense of Geralt's continued non-responses to her queries about whether or not they're lovers.
She suspects the answer is somewhere between no and not yet and unfortunately not, and also that Geralt has never consciously let himself think in those terms. They're all over each other, whether they realise it or not; the mixture of scents, the familiarity with which Geralt handles his bard... the Mark itself is just confirmation.
She doesn't see Geralt's yet, at least, but she senses it, especially the spark and taste of chaos in the bond when Geralt's anger flares for his... friend?
She can tell immediately that the mark is on the inside of his ankle, but he keeps it hidden from her even when they're naked, turning just so, angling it out of her eyeline. It seems almost like a habit, something he's done for long enough it's no longer a conscious action. She might not even notice were it not that she's aware he has something to hide.
Still. It's none of her concern. She'll heal his bard, use him for her own purposes, and never see them again.
It bothers her more than she'd like to admit that their Mark appears by the time Geralt has fallen asleep next to her after their tryst. Soulmarks usually don't form so fast, unless one is in the habit of falling in love fast and deep, and Yennefer is neither a callow youth nor a blushing virgin to do anything so childish. She feels drawn to him, admittedly, there's a pull there she doesn't completely understand but finds she doesn't want to resist, but a soulmark? She's embarrassed, as much as anything; only the knowledge that these things are always mutual, and a soulmark must be forming somewhere on Geralt's body at this very moment, stops her from feeling, frankly, quite murderous.
She moves it, of course - no reason for anyone to see it unless she chooses to reveal it, and while she can't stop Geralt, sooner or later, noticing his own, if she can put it off, maybe at least let him believe it took a little longer to form than the space of one fuck (even a very satisfactory fuck), well... she'd prefer that. (Maybe once he's gone, she'll get over this odd fascination, the mark will fade, and he'll never need to know. She can hope.) She tucks it in under her arm just in case he wakes any time soon.
It's almost the twin of the amphora she painted on her own belly, which strikes her as a little strange, but maybe the power swirling in that room interfered somehow. She doesn't know who to ask whose answer she would trust. Triss, maybe, if their paths should cross. There's always Tissaia, of course, but she's reluctant to confess weakness to the rectoress of Aretuza; one does not give such a woman free access to one's vulnerabilities without more cause than mere curiosity.
(She also rather suspects Tissaia would not approve of Geralt, nor of the magic that led to the mark. She can imagine Tissaia's scolding look, the deep disappointment and disapproval. No thanks. She's had more than enough of that even for her generous lifetime.)
Damn them all. Loath as she is to admit it, Marks usually mean something. It's unlikely this one will conveniently vanish, however hard she wishes it.
So much for never seeing Geralt and his bard ever again.
It rapidly becomes clear to her that Geralt's bard would be more than amenable, would jump at the chance to be more to Geralt, to warm his bed and his heart, but for reasons she can't guess at, Geralt resists. Yen wouldn't deprive herself of such pretty, devoted company. She would gag the annoying little twerp, of course, but Geralt has a higher tolerance for his nonsense to start with.
It's equally clear that said bard has no idea Geralt bears his soulmark, which explains (in a manner of speaking, anyway) why Geralt is so cagey about it. It's still hard to imagine how the bard has missed it; does he not know that Marks are always mutual?
Is he stupid? Ignorant? Merely unobservant? None of these things seems to fit the man as she reluctantly gets to know him better. Evidently Geralt has taken pains to ensure his Mark is concealed, but the evidence of the bond is right there on the bard's back, so how Geralt has hidden the truth, she can't imagine.
Geralt, for his part, appears to be both frightened and angry that the bard cares for him so much, which is an odd reaction to such devotion. He hides it under layers of grouchiness and snark, but she eventually realises he's terrified of someone he cares about so deeply being hurt, someone so vulnerable, a mere human bard without magic or immortality, not even skilled at self-defence; he seems to think being an arsehole will somehow fix a soul-deep bond, one Yennefer's sure the bard doesn't think needs fixing.
Idiots. She's so very done with both of them.
She means it this time.
It's more noticeable, and much more annoying, that Geralt hides her Mark from her for as long as he can. She doesn't ask, of course, she doesn't want to give him the satisfaction, but obviously she wants to know. Geralt is annoyingly adept at hiding his ankle from onlookers (the fact her soulmark is in the same general area as the thrice-damned bard's is also fucking annoying); after a while, when he notices her efforts to find out, it becomes a sort of game between them, and she's not about to let him win.
(His Mark on her body is hidden under a glamour; it has changed and twisted since it appeared, and she's still not sure it's entirely natural. Letting Geralt (or anybody) see it feels too vulnerable. Triss would be her preference, but to seek her out for this purpose feels more exposing than she's comfortable with; Triss would help if she could, even if she doesn't fully approve of Yennefer's choices, but she's still Foltest's mage. Yennefer has no intention of visiting his court, and it's not as if they're likely to meet by chance on the road.)
When she finally catches a glimpse, she can't tell if she's finally fooled him, or if he's simply given up hiding it. Somehow, his ankle, naked and vulnerable, Mark visible, feels more intimate than the lovemaking they just shared.
She's confused by the Mark at first. A sprig of lilac to represent her makes sense; Geralt is a straightforward kind of man, it follows that his soulmarks would be the same. He's always been captivated by that scent. It takes her a moment, and leaning into her chaos, to realise the buttercup with it is not a more mysterious part of her soulmark, but that hers is intertwined with his bard's.
Of course the bard's mark on Geralt's skin is a buttercup, bright and cheerful. Of course it is. Really, she should've guessed. It suits him. Damn weed of a man, growing in a garden that should be hers alone.
(She imagined Geralt would have bold, clean soulmarks, monochromatic and severe, not these delicate flowers that look like watercolour paintings. It makes her feel oddly tender, even as she's mad that she shares space on Geralt's body.)
It's instinctive to reach out and touch the lilac, to feel the shivery ecstasy of the connection. Strangely, when her finger almost inevitably strays to the buttercup, there's no feeling of repulsion or rejection; it feels different to how the lilac feels, but not... bad.
She's never seen Marks mingle like this. If she'd imagined it, she would have thought one might be trying to swamp or strangle the other, especially given the animosity that exists between the two of them, but although they would never grow together in nature, on Geralt's skin they combine harmoniously, in a way they never once have in reality.
She doesn't know if she's flattered (after all, Geralt has known his bard for many years, and they are... close, in a manner of speaking, even if Geralt won't admit it) or insulted (she can't believe the fucking bard's soulmark has the audacity to be wound around hers).
Geralt won't meet her eyes as he explains succinctly that he's not been able to separate them. It's tempting to offer to help, or even to insist on it; to see if her chaos and her skill are enough to pull them apart. Unfortunately, she has the distinct impression Geralt would be angry at the mere suggestion.
It makes her gladder that Jaskier is unobservant enough or stupid enough not to have figured out that his Mark is right there on Geralt's skin; she does not need his glee or his theorising about exactly why their Marks are joined.
No, not Jaskier, he's just Geralt's bard. That's all he's ever been to her and all he ever will be.
And she will not think about this any more.
~ fin ~