And Howl Your Pain unto the Moon

Part 10 - The Cottage

"This is it?" Jaskier stood with his hands braced on his hips, eyebrows lifted high in disbelief.

"Hmm," Geralt nodded and went to knock on the door of the small, cozy-looking cottage.

For a while they just stood there waiting, watching the flowers blooming in the tiny garden and bees floating around enjoying the variety, before the door sprang open and the witch stood in the doorway, hands folded over her chest and perfectly shaped eyebrows drawn into a small frown. She looked amazing, like usual.

"I was wondering about how the hell do you always manage to land in such a mess, bard," she spoke to him, resolutely not looking at the witcher. Okay, at least she's willing to talk to one of them.

"What would life be without a bit of adventure and curses to spice it up, right? Will you help?" he asked as he had no doubts that she thought the letter over many times before they arrived.

"I've thought about it briefly, consulted a few ancient scriptures, you know how it goes with curses. Now come, I have no time for you to stand around. Roach can be taken to the stables," she waved her hand and Geralt shrugged his shoulders at Jaskier with a bitter smile plastered over his face before walking away, leaving Jaskier alone with that vile vicious witch who had just invited him into her safehouse to help cure his curse. He took a deep breath and followed her.

"Oh, now I get it," he mumbled, as he entered and saw the inside of the cottage to be much larger and more luxurious than such a building had any right to be. Of course. Magic.

"Stop dawdling, bard. Here," she called for him from another door and he swallowed before quickly following her into a room that looked like a mix of a library, laboratory, and an infirmary. She waved him over to the well-cushioned chair before she without a single warning tore a strand of his hair out and walked to the working table.

"Ow, you could've warned me," he hissed, rubbing his scalp, while she smirked.

"Where's the fun in that? Anyway, is that grey hair I'm seeing? Tss, not only cursed but old now too, are we, bard?" she smirked, mixing his hair into a weirdly colored substance in one of the bowls.

"As if that would happen. If I got some greys, it's from the damn stress, not aging," he mumbled and she gave him a smaller smile this time, something else than irritation and snark flashing in her eyes.

"How did you even get cursed? Weren't you traveling with the lying deceptive trashbag the last time I checked?"

He truly wanted to say something sarcastic back, he knew that revealing that soft underbelly wasn't the greatest of ideas around angry vengeful witches, but there was something in her, in the way she stood. In the way she smelled, he realized, when his senses got through that cloying cloud of lilac and gooseberries she constantly carried around. She was still hurting from The Mountain TM. All three of them had that in common, didn't they?

"After you and Geralt had your little breakup on the mountain, I was swiftly screamed at and sent away as well. Unfortunately, I met a cowardly old rival, and he must've found someone to help him. You already know I was cursed from a distance. I never saw the change coming."

"Well, it wouldn't have done much even if you did. You're lucky to have found your witchers again, bard. These curses are usually much more vicious. The countering it with a friendly touch must have worked," she continued mixing, blissfully ignoring his earlier admission.

"I'll be working on this for a bit longer yet. When I'm done, I'll find you. You can go anywhere you want around the place as long as he stays out," and just like that she waved him away and he left the strange room.