abraxaslogs | Open Log + Closed Prompt

Amidst everything else that's been going on, Mat has reached a turning point with his magic. The fear that dogged him for so long has finally begun to dissipate, making channeling come easier and easier. Between his lessons with both Yennefer and Istredd, and his own practice, he actually feels like he's getting a handle on it all. It hasn't been easy, and light knows there had probably been too many angry fights and arguments over it, but somehow he muddled through. It's as surprising to him as anyone else.

But with this new stage of his journey as someone who can channel comes a sense of freedom to using his abilities. He can do so much more than ice now. Or so it seems to him, considering how slow and stagnated he'd been for so long. With the fear faded to something dull in the background, there's delight and a sense of power in channeling. It offers him control, though he hasn't quite grasped that consciously. He just knows it feels good now, and not as though he's doing something terrible. Which has only led him wanting to do it more, and practicing productively in his spare time.

Which is why he finds himself unable to simply sit back and enjoy his late evening bath in the luxurious communal bathing chambers of the castle. Instead, he's sat up to his chest in one of the larger pools, coaxing the bath water in front of him to rise and take on shapes. Not terribly detailed shapes, and not ones that hold for more than a few moments, but shapes all the same. Something that's almost a tower, something that implies a horse. He's concentrating very hard, lips pursed and brows drawn as he tries to make the water do precisely what he wants.

Until he pushes himself a bit too hard and his latest attempt at creation bursts, heartily showering him and any unfortunate souls close enough to be caught in the spontaneous wave.

Maybe that last explosion is slightly Rhy's fault. As he enters the bath and sees Mat already there, he's crept up slowly behind him, until he crouches at the edge of the pool with Mat still none the wiser. And catches him suddenly by the shoulders.

"Whoops."

"Blood and ashes!"

Mat laughs, half in surprise and half in amusement as he turns his head. That had been going rather well, till Rhy startled him.

"Don't sneak up on a fellow who's channeling magic! You ought know that."

His tone is teasing, though, and he rakes his sodden hair out of his eyes with a grin. It's just water, after all, the bathing chamber is full of it. No harm done.

"I just wanted to see how you'd do. You passed my test!"

He's bullshitting. There was absolutely no thought put into this. He's not even trying to hide his laughter.

"Oh did I? Are you petitioning to be my teacher now, too? I've got three of'em you know, I'm well full up."

It sounds so decadent to say! He has three whole teachers. For two different things! Only rich people get anything like that where he comes from. Education is not widely or freely available in his home.

Though it's probably not terribly impressive to Rhy, considering he's royalty and probably had all sorts of tutors and things.

"Come on, join me. I'm supposed to be relaxing."

"I don't think I'm qualified to teach anyone magic."

Rhy barely waits for Mat to finish the invitation before he's sliding into the water with a pleased shiver at the temperature difference. Laughing, he rubs his legs and arms to get them used to the water, and scoots closer.

"But I might have some other knowledge I can impart. Something more... relaxing."

"Is that so?"

Mat lifts his eyebrows teasingly and shifts, laying one arm along the edge of the tub. Magic time, he thinks, is very much done for now. He really ought to take a break, anyhow. There's such a thing as too much practice - magic is tiring. He's been using his abilities a lot more lately.

And Rhy is such a very welcomed distraction.

"I'm intrigued, my friend."

It's not unusual for Mat to be in his domain, changing bits of it. He does it all the time, making small or not so small changes. A meadow being replaced with a pond full of fantastical fish, ruins disappearing and turning into a garden full of plants that only exist in Mat's mind. But he's feeling a larger change is called for. It's been months that the view from his little manor house in the middle is mostly the same. Trees and grass and water. It could be more interesting.

And so he's sitting on a large rock, Gizmo the gremlin - a gift that is now a core staple of his domain - in a sling carrier on his back, looking over what is his creation. The trees, he thinks. They could use some fancying up. He lifts his hands for dramatic effect, because he likes to feel as though he's commanding the very land itself. Because here, he does. Everything (usually) is exactly as he likes it, all set and made by him.

It only takes a matter of minutes. The varied green canopy that covers Mat's domain shifts, color spreading through the leaves of the trees. All the hues of green, from light new spring to deepest forest green, turns to a myriad of colors. Blues, reds, purples, golds, silvers... A kaleidoscope of color flows out from the center where Mat himself sits.

"There we are!" He stands and walks through the rainbow colored trees, looking up and grinning at his own artistry.

"Now...what else?"

Lucifer wonders if this was Mat's idea of thinking up "nice things" when he got to experience Lucifer's first time in the Horizon.

Except for the little chaos maker strapped to his back.

He came here for a refresher for bows and instead... "Why do you have a gremlin?"

"Ah, Lucifer!"

Mat smiles in greeting, turning his attention to the older man. Here for archery, he assumes. But his brow furrows for a moment in puzzlement...ah, yes. That's right. Another name for mogwai, he remembers that.

"Gizmo? He was a gift from a casual friend. I'd say he's the warden of my domain, but he has to stay in the house when I'm not here. Just in case."

He's never going through that again.

"Say hello to our friend, Gizmo."

A furry paw lifts and waves in greeting over Mat's shoulder.

He offers a small, flabbergasted wave in return, because he knows what that thing could spout out of it in the wrong circumstances.

"Did that 'casual friend' give you particular care-taking rules?" he asks mildly. It's the Horizon, so it might not matter, but then Lucifer can also picture something going wrong in the Horizon again and just dozens of trouble-making parasites suddenly scattering across domains with Mat's as the source.

... Actually that would be hilarious.

Heh.

"Ah, I see you come from a world that's familiar!" Mat laughs.

"Not at first, as it happens. And we nearly had ourselves a little disaster. But only the once, and we got it all set to right, and this one is not left alone where he could encounter water." The food doesn't seem to be an issue, Gizmo apparently can manage his own feeding schedule just fine.

"I have to say, I'm amazed they're popular as pets. All the many ways something could go wrong, and on top of that they're smart. Gizmo understands me and he can talk a little and all of that." But who is he to comment on how other world's work? It's not like he treats Gizmo as a pet.

"He likes to sing, too!"

Ohhhh he's familiar all right.

Lucifer may not be completely up-to-snuff when it comes to pop culture, especially compared to (1) Dean Winchester, but he's got his moments.

"Nearly" a little disaster is shocking. Less shocking is Gizmo maintaining his own eating schedule because weird, but he probably doesn't want to pop out dozens of Actual Gremlins. Or whatever.

Lucifer's memory is limited on terminology, okay.

"Popular as pets is..." Wow. Who the hell gave him this creature? "A bit extreme, but..." Wow. "Sure, let's go with the exotic appeal."

Please don't sing.

"Let's just say we're lucky it happened in the Horizon." It had been easy enough to contain and correct. Well, for some degree of easy, anyhow.

"Ah, I was under the impression they were common, but makes more sense they'd be more of a rarity. Either way, I'm very glad for my little furred friend here. But! You didn't come by to chat about my animals."

Much as Mat enjoys talking about the various creatures that live in his domain.

"I'm going to guess you've stopped by either for archery lessons that don't involve training bows and straw targets or to revisit the possibility of me turning my hands to clandestine weapons monger. And have a proper talk about it."

He's not going to tell Mat the creatures are from a movie franchise, if only because he doesn't think Mat would understand the concept, but even from the movie itself they were still something exotic if he remembered correctly.

And who knows. Maybe there is a world out there where they truly existed.

But he definitely didn't come here for the animals, or the rainbow trees.

"All of the above," Lucifer answers. "To be fair, you're still the best option. Kell and I briefly considered using his funds from actually having a job to arm the Summoned, but that'd be more suspicious and likely to backfire extremely." And, no offense to Mat, but Lucifer is much more likely to risk Mat's safety than Kell's.

What?

Devil's got favorites. He's perhaps mellowed significantly, but he's still a manipulative asshole.

"No, buying weapons is a bad idea. Can't hide that, and it's as likely to get whatever poor blacksmith you buy from in just as much hot water. Or more."

Mat shakes his head. No, as Lucifer had first implied, they have to be able to do this unseen.

"I have given it more thought," he assures the older man. Stretching, Mat undoes Gizmo's harness and sets the mogwai on the ground, telling him to head on home. A pair of bows materializes beside him, far more ornate and well crafted than the training and simple hunting bows they're allowed to use at the castle.

"Now...let's say I was amenable. Do you have any sort of actual plan to safeguard discovery?"

"I'm trying to get in with the guards through offering training, though that likely will take time." It's fatalistic maybe to think that it'll take more time than he thinks they have. "At the moment I believe the heat for any suspicious actions, regardless of what they are, will come down on Istredd's or my head. Always blame the figureheads."

The amount of things that have changed since the last time him and Mat talked, before the negotiations.

He picks up one of the bows, playing around with the weight of it in his grip. He's always preferred blades.

For as much as Lucifer would protect Kell over Mat, they're in the thick of it now. Whatever happens from their meeting, whatever thread they lose control of, and Istredd takes the brunt. Lucifer's just refused to let him do it alone. Which. Is really just. Really grating.

"Mmm, somewhat reassuring but I'm not hearing any ideas about how I'm to gather materials and make in secret a number of deadly weapons and their ammunition. So I assume that bit will be left to me to figure out?"

Well, not impossible, Mat's clever and he's certainly done things in secret before.

"Because while the brunt may come down on you or my magic tutor, that doesn't mean it won't come down on us all in some way." He's seen how Thorne responds to threats. It's not in what he'd call a rational way.

"How many bows were you seeing me craft?"

Blood and ashes, there's so many things to think about, if he commits to doing it. Maybe he's being an idiot, maybe he ought to forget about the whole thing. What would he even be risking his hide for?

"I can gather the materials from one of the hunting grounds; whether it be Thorne's or Nocwich, but Nocwich may actually be easier. You'd know more than I would how closely they watch the trails, but who knows how much they'd care if you're 'making instruments.'" The problem is how much could they reasonably bring in to actually make a handful of bows and also make some kind of instrument to fuel the lie.

"If you have a reason to visit people's rooms for however long it takes to make a bow, you could just leave it safely there. They haven't searched rooms yet, far as I know. And if it's only a couple," at least at first, "I think we could get away with it. Right under their noses."

He tilts his head. "The real question is, what do you want for this endeavor?"

"It's no secret I like to sleep around." Mat shrugs. "It's not unusual for me to spend a few hours behind a closed door in someone else's room. Wouldn't be suspicious."

He's presented himself a certain way, a rather foolish young man mostly concerned with having a good time. He likes to be seen that way. Always good to be underestimated, then no one's paying as close attention as they ought. Like now.

Of course he just assumes they aren't watching him that closely. He's done all he can to give them no reason to.

"And I'd say a reasonable expectation of safety, but I'm not an idiot. It's fine, I don't want anything from you." He shakes his head and lifts a hand. Things are different now, even though it's only been a month or so since Lucifer first brought up the idea.

Still.

Things are different now.

"Ah."

Lucifer was not actually aware of Mat's... habits. Involving other people.

He hardly pays attention to rumors involving himself, which are incorrect, let alone that of the other Summoned. How much stock could he put into it, really, if everyone thought him and Istredd were sleeping together?

"Well," he's going to just try and skip by his open surprise, "that's as good a cover as anything."

He did expect there to be something Mat wanted though. Maybe the time on the boat, or even the meeting Istredd had organized, had changed some things, as they hoped it would.

"There's no shame in it. I enjoy my fun!" Mat simply smiles, as shameless as he claims to be. He likes to fuck, and he has ample opportunity to. It's nothing he's made any attempt to hide.

"And it is a good cover, that explains lengthy stays and any odd noises and me coming out of it sweating and tired." Bow making isn't exactly easy work, it's hard labor.

Mat's cautious agreement stems from one thing, really. If he's not in a position to defend and help himself, he's entirely certain Jesper really will try and storm the castle to rescue him one of these days. Though the meeting they'd all had... it had opened his eyes to the fact that despite his low profile, he likely was in some form of danger. He'd already offered archery classes there, may as well jump in with both feet.

He rather feels as though he's going to get fucked either way, might as well try and do the right thing for once.

You do you, man.

"It's more safety than I could provide you." Mat may have the best chance at having cover than any of them would. "So, you get the cut wood beforehand. That's the biggest time drawback. You said otherwise it wouldn't take you many days... but it's something to spread out over time to keep the suspicion down. Ideally a few for those that aren't strong in magic or physical combat. Something to give maybe some advantage."

He taps the bow against his hip. "Can the wood get 'too dry'? Or rather, does it have to be used at a certain point, or can it just be collected, worked on, and ready until needed?"

"Leave it out long enough, yeah, but it takes well over a year so I don't imagine we need to worry about it. If it stiffens up you just wet it some and rework it." Mat shrugs one shoulder. He's clearly not concerned about that.

"It'd just be the getting it into the castle in the amount we'd need. Could start with just one, and see how it goes. Don't need too much wood for one bow."

And one weapon is likely a lesser offence than say five weapons. One is a project. Five is the start of a stockpile.

From the moment he realized he could busk on street corners, Mat has been using his meager training to do just that. He's even graduated to taverns in the evenings a few nights a week. He's saved up a tidy sum, as he never has to spend money to provide for himself. He also knows he's reached the peak of what he can manage without any further learning. A few months of evenings with Thom only did so much. And while he's improved his juggling and his knife throwing on his own, he can't train his own voice further or learn an instrument without an instructor.

But now he has an instructor. Who is apparently a very accomplished Gleeman. With an easy to find domain, thank the light. He shows up atop Hend, his draft horse sized badger, and dressed as he tends to in the Horizon. In his black and gold trimmed coat with the colored brocade and a plain shirt and black trews. It's only for busking that he dresses down - depending on where he's busking. Not as many folks are inclined to toss a coin in the hat of a fellow dripping in expensive trim and brocade. His hair and scruff of a beard are the same as they ever are - that's just personal preference.

Jaskier's domain, as it turns out, is damned impressive. Mat can understand why folks make very mundane domains, a bit of home comfort in a mad and strange world. But he can't imagine having all the power of creation at one's fingertips and not taking advantage. The real world is always there, and always just as it is. This world is theirs, and can be whatever they imagine. It's nice to see something fantastical. He's going to have to draw some inspiration. He's done all sorts of things with trees, but he's only ever made miniature sorts of 'homes' in them - for animals to play out whimsical scenes in. This...

"Hallo the very impressive and majestic tree!"

When the man mentioned he had a large badger, it wasn't as if Jaskier did not believe him. It's more than he realizes he was not at all prepared to see an actual giant badger.

It's actually terrifying. And he would be hitching himself on Radu's back and galloping the fuck out of the way of this stumbling, furred thing if he wasn't too valuable to feed to a badger. And if he wasn't, you know. In the Horizon.

"Greetings, Mat!" Jaskier calls back after sticking his head out of a window, giving him a wave from the third floor where he'd been mussing about with attempting to add a rather fancy claw-footed tub to one of his extra bedrooms. "Give me a moment!"

And in the moment he promised, Jaskier's walking out impossibly from the front of the tree, hesitating only at the size of the beast now that he's... near it. The goldfinch, nested in the branches above them, squawks and shuffles her feathers with a shared hint of nervousness reflected in her master's hesitation to leave the tree. "My, your beast is... very large up close. And. Wow. What an extremely intimidating mouth. I'm afraid they won't fit in the tree, but there's plenty of things to eat in the glade if you wish them to roam a bit."

"Don't mind Hend, he's harmless." Mat slides down out of his custom saddle, patting the large animal on the shoulder affectionately.

"His fearsome mouth and wicked claws are for digging, nothing sinister. And he'll be perfectly happy roaming, s'what he does in my domain. He doesn't fit in my house, either! Off you go, friend, explore while I'm busy."

With another pat to the giant badger, he sends the animal lumbering off to occupy himself while Mat has his lesson. That's the beauty of this place. One can design even physics and nature to how one prefers. Such as Jaskier's apparently impossible interior space, and Mat's friendly and vegetarian giant badger.

"I am all set to begin, and eager to learn what you can teach me. Blood and ashes, I went from never having a single teacher in my life to three! I feel like a little lord."

Make all the assurances you like, dear apprentice, because Jaskier still keeps his eyes firmly on the badger until it's toddled away far enough to put some distance between them. At least his own creatures have enough wit to not pester the beast, and they respect any guest Jaskier's welcomed onto his domain. Though he does see Moglad float down from the tree and with a curious kupo? try to seat himself on the saddle of the badger.

Ah. Well. Moglad often learns from hard lessons.

Jaskier turns his attention back to Mat, giving him a clap on the back as he invites him into the grand staircase of the tree. "If you play well enough, you can convince anyone that you are, indeed, a lord. In time." He laughs. "Keep in mind I feel the same. I've tutored often enough at my university, but I have missed having a dedicated pupil now that my last has... found other pursuits." Moglad is a dark knight now, whatever that means, but Jaskier can't complain because the moogle can still play a mean jig when he's in the mood. "Now, come upstairs and we'll get comfortable. I have a room set out for music already."

So he leads him up the stairwell as all matters of creatures flow through the air -- his bejeweled bees buzz up the spiral, and butterflies flutter through room to room, where patches of flowers appear to grow out of the very walls for them to drink from. On one of the middle levels is a room that opens out impossibly, half-roofed and half on a balcony that overhangs an enormous branch, with doors that can be slid closed between to keep the sound in. All along the walls are hanging instruments, with various drums tucked into the corner, and a stand with several different flutes. A violin stands on a windowsill, and all around the room are both messy and cleanly written musical notations. "Now, I believe we can start with a few interesting instruments. I am quite partial to the lute, so I did want to begin on strings." He pulls a long-necked theorbo from where it hangs. "What do you think? Too ostentatious?"

Luckily Moglad has nothing to fear from the gentle giant that is Hend the badger. Large and intimidating as he may be, his temperament is that of a well reared horse.

Mat follows, looking about impressed at what Jaskier's done with his domain. This is exactly the way to take advantage of this strange place that belongs to them and them alone. His expression of wonder only grows when they reach the music room.

"Blood and ashes!" He's never seen so many instruments in one place. Or...ever. Thom had only had the lute and the hand drum. And it isn't as though there were any real musicians in Emund's Field. A few folks could play a shepherd's pipe, or a simple stringed instrument, but that was about it.

"Look at it all...I didn't even know there were this many instruments..." He has lived, overall, a very sheltered life.

He eyes the thing Jaskier presents, and his heavy brows rise. That is a very big instrument. Of course with Mat's height and long limbs, that's not a problem, and it does look quite impressive but...

"I'm not sure about that, but it looks like a bitch to carry around and I am not a house musician. I need to learn something I can buy or make in Thorne and that travels easy. I'll be hauling it from castle to town and back three or four nights a week. Along with my clubs and throwing knives."

He thinks he could make one easy enough, the shape isn't a complex one. And he's never seen one before in Thorne, it'd be smart to have something unique.

"Here, let me see it."

Jaskier is already rather delighted by this whole thing -- he feels younger, invigorated by the chance to share his trade -- but Mat's reactions to things only make it a warmer moment. His surprise, his genuine curiousity. This poor man must've been living in poverty if this small collection is surprising.

Jaskier did not really have a place to settle, but if he ever had, this collection would be there with him. Probably much larger, if he could ensure the place would not be robbed within a week.

"This is only a small percentage of what my world has to offer for those musically inclined," he answers, though in truth, a few are instruments he's had Nadine show to him from her world. Things he asked after as they listened to music together on magical discs.

He tips his head. They're all right points. He only imagined that if he were in Thorne, there was not that much travel to do. Certainly not a trio of cities to cycle. "Don't feel married to it," he says, bringing over the theorbo in offering, with a twang of one long string. "This is mostly an exercise to see what you ultimately will be drawn to."

"To be honest, I don't know what half of these things even are." Mat takes the instrument with a shrug.

"Not exactly any trade for musical instruments in my village. A Gleeman would come round once sometimes twice a year maybe, and sometimes peddlers, but...still never saw more than a shepherd's pipe or a hand harp or lute till I left Emunds Field."

And there ends the list of instruments Mat is personally familiar with, outside of the drum. He's aware of others, he's read their names in books or glimpsed them, but that's about all. This thing, though...it's neat looking. And he thinks it probably suits him, as long and thin as he himself is. His fingers run over it curiously.

"We're shepherds and farmers, my people. Simple folk, small end of nowhere place, there's about...forty people in the village and woods around it." It's a rough estimate, but feels right following the attack during the spring festivities.

"I know there's plenty of instruments and musicians in Thorne, but I've been busy with my magic lessons and I haven't had any time to pursue either." Channeling hadn't come easy, once his ability had awoken. It's been a long road, but now...now he's made true progress, and isn't practicing all the damned time.

"Once or twice a year? Gods, my man. You were out in the middle of fucking nowhere." It sort of spills out in that thoughtless way of Jaskier's, and it's clear he's rather surprised -- if only because those without further exposure often do not have much talent themselves.

And because Jaskier traveled himself to some boring, out of the way places. Some nearly dead places, spotted only with one or two farmers and their broods. But still, he visited, cycling through if it was worth his time. Especially when he was younger.

Mat is a rough rock, to be sure. He can be polished over time. But it is that enthusiasm of his, if he can keep it, that will make the journey easier.

Jaskier stands back, watching him with the theorbo. There certainly seems to be interest there, even if Mat's already brought up its drawbacks. A farmer -- well, he would guess only from his wild, unkept hair. Thorne does spend some expenses providing its people some lovely perks.

"Magic lessons? With one of the mentors in the castle? Good. It's a good point to start from, if you're already in some sort of studies. I will say, especially in Thorne, the use of magic during performances was also very well received."

"Literal end of civilization," Mat clarifies. "Only thing beyond us is mountains too dangerous to venture into, let alone cross."

Emunds Field was the last stop. And very far flung from the next-to-last stop. There's no reason to venture out there for most folks. Just around festival time, when folks are likely to buy wares.

"And not with castle mages, my magic's not like the sort they practice in Thorne. No words or anything like that. The kind that just sort of happens when it's time to manifest itself. They were suspicious I had the ability back home, but it came out here. Couldn't control it at first. But there's two Summoned who's magic works the same, they teach me. I have it in hand now."

And is getting better all the time, now that he's worked through his mental block about it all. As he talks he continues to shift the theorbo in his grip, testing the feel of it, getting a sense of its weight and how to angle it comfortably.

"Been at it..shy of a year now, I think?"

Jaskier huffs in amusement. "Where I come from, we call it the Edge of the World." Fitting that he thought of it before Mat even said it. So he does know the sort. But he clearly is not an elf -- though perhaps his people were somewhat similar.

Or he could've just been real bloody poor.

Jaskier reaches over to adjust Mat's grip, shifting the theorbo's belly closer against his leg to balance it, making the grip more comfortable. He rubs his chin, stepping back. Funny. It does look like him a bit.

"It sounds similar to my sphere's Chaos. It's another word for magic, I suppose, but it works in a very specific way. The magic I gained here is similar. It simply works. When I need it to."

And he's quite proud of it, with how much work he's put into it. Like now, he offers a real manifestation of it: holding out a hand to Mat, a chickadee appears, peeping and hopping over the plane of Jaskier's hand. Of course he can make anything in the Horizon, but this is also his favorite little trick out of it, too. "What sort of things can you do? Not anything to help you learn a bit of music faster, I bet."

"Yeah! Channeling, chaos, magic...they're all words for the same things." And there's dozens others that Mat's heard. But Chaos is very familiar, both Yennefer and Istredd use that term. Might be one of the more common ones.

"Channeling the One Power is what we call it in my world. Because you channel it through you." Which is probably self explanatory. But he never knows, and it's easiest to just provide answers before they're asked.

He lets Jaskier adjust his position and the instrument's, nodding some as he gets a feel for how it's held. His long arms certainly give him an advantage with it. He's distracted for a moment by the sudden bird, grinning as he watches.

"But I mostly work with elements. Ice is my specialty, that comes easy and I can freeze all kinds of things. Sometimes even if they're hot. I can sort of change stuff, but not very much. And I've gotten a good hand on water."

Jaskier blinks. He's heard the term? Well, he supposes it's not that bizarre a concept for magic... though he only knows his own people to use it so fluently. He understands the gist, though. They are all the same force, even if they are wielded or created differently.

"The one power. Interesting."

He steps back, nodding, taking in the humble man with the mighty theorbo. Yes. It's a good match, and he's holding her well. Gentle, like one would hold a lover, long fingers curled over her neck.

"A rather fascinating array of chaos. I can do a bit of water myself, but it's only its creation. Perhaps a handful at most." He certainly doesn't sound as impressed with himself as when he discusses his birds -- the latest of which has taken flight and exploded into a small shower of sparks. "Speaking of reading, as I said -- can you read? At all?"

Mat's been here long enough that he doesn't take much offense at the question. Though his lips do purse a bit and there's a flash of something in his eyes, flickering then gone. Jaskier doesn't know him, and he's offering him apprenticeship. It's an unfortunately reasonable question to ask.

"I can read just fine. And write, and do sums. My education wasn't formal, but it wasn't lacking."

And he knows he's lucky for it, and ought be proud he can answer 'yes'. But mostly he just wishes no one felt the need to ask in the first place. Even if there's no malice in it.

"And I think I like the long lute. S'got personality."

Jaskier doesn't miss he's annoyed by it, but it's a reasonable question all the same. Mat is the one who offered he's been raised in the middle of bumfuck, nowhere, and -- as curious as it is that everyone in Abraxas appears to be gifted with the knowledge of literacy, it is more than a fair question to anyone from Jaskier's own home.

Or a home that sounds similar.

"Lucky you only need to be able to read. And count." All right, and write, if he's to put down his music, but there are plenty who never do. Who keep it all in their heads.

It's Jaskier's turn to react, with a slight flinch. "A theorbo, actually. But good! That's good. We found it quickly, and it's an instrument I'm well acquainted with, with beautiful, robust sound." And in Mat's hands, she does look good. The two look similar, both long and thin. Lanky. But strong.

"We'll start easy for today. I'll teach you the first few basic notes on the course, a few on the fet, and a chord, and you practice from there."

Open Log + Closed Prompt

Thorne Castle Baths - Open

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Horizon - Open

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Music Lessons - For Jaskier

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