Jacob/Astarion/Rosita

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

It takes him about two minutes to both scout the place and find a river to sit beside, just like he said he would. He doesn't get out the fishing pole or anything too quick, but he does put Mae on alert, just in case.

He's going to give them a few minutes. Just like he said. Just like they talked about. He's not going to worry until that time has passed because they said they would come and he trusts them more than he trusts any other person.

Right now, he's wants to sit in the wind, the actual wind, and listen to the water, the real fucking water, babble by. He wants to bask in the outdoors and let Mae take over just a little bit of the guarding.

Comments

[handleyourshit]

She's not sure how many minutes it actually is before she looks around and registers trees and grass and a stream instead of her home in Alexandria - her cabin on the Barge. She's still finding it a bit hard to breathe leaving Astarion behind - even knowing he can handle himself, even knowing he'll be along shortly, even knowing he agreed to this, it still feels like willingly abandoning him and it breaks her heart in a very specific, very intimate way, but she still does it. It needs done, so she does it.

She's able to prepare for that. She has a harder time preparing for the unexpectedly harsh slap of actually doing it, and for a moment she just focuses on breathing, focuses on striding over to the tree line out of an instinctive need for cover.

She's supposed to meet Jacob, she remembers when she can think straight again. She was supposed to be brought here to meet Jacob. She straightens to look around, finally, and after a moment sends up the whistle that she's used before to tell him she's here, she's looking for him.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

Mae's ears go up and Jacob stands immediately, hand going to his waist to grab the knife he knows is there.

But that whistle is familiar, directly so, and he nearly collapses in relief. Instead, he sends an answering call of a whistle and presses forward, bags across his shoulders, trying not to rush. He makes noise across the trail back to her, deliberately avoiding trying to sneak.

[handleyourshit]

Something in her squeezes and releases when she hears that answer, too. She hikes her pack further up on her back and starts towards where she thinks it came from, adjusting slightly when she hears something - two somethings - moving towards her quickly.

She's still ready to pull her knife if she's wrong, but sge sees the flash of red hair and it's only been a few days for her, but she laughs in relief.

"There you are," she calls when she finally spots him directly, and then the pack is on the ground and she's completely unashamed to be throwing herself into him like it's been years since they were together.

They made it. Two out of three of them made it, safe and sound and real.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He opens his arms to her, his own pack falling to the ground, and he wraps her in an embrace as if it hasn't been just a few minutes. As if he hasn't missed her every single second. As if he had been worrying, or trying not to worry, that she wouldn't be able to show. Her and Astarion after her.

"How long was it?" he wonders, hoping that she hadn't had to stay too long. Hoping she hadn't been pulled into nonsense. Hoping that she didn't have to make any more sacrifices.

[handleyourshit]

She jumps, letting him catch her, arms slung around his neck and legs half wrapped around his waist, face buried in his neck. She doesn't even try to answer for a moment. She's top busy feeling him under her hands, feeling his arms around her, breathing him in.

It's so hard for her to trust the things she can't control. She does not take it for granted when someone comes through for her.

"Two days," she finally breathes, lifting her head away just a bit. "Two days," she says again, "And I feel terrible, but Astarion says he'll be along as soon as he can. He promised."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He keeps on arm around her and the other underneath her, keeping her up as he just remembers how this felt. It hasn't been long, but it's also been hours. Days. Weeks. Years. Each tick of the second hand was torture. But now she's here and now the wait begins again but, this time, he isn't alone.

"He will be," he assures her. "Five minutes." He repeats that mantra. "Five minutes."

[handleyourshit]

"Five minutes," she agrees, even though she's not sure it's going to be that number exactly. It doesn't matter. She kisses him, deep and a bit desperate, and then sets their foreheads together when they break apart.

"We promised him a soft place to land," she reminds him, takes another moment longer and another, slower kiss before she considers starting to climb down.