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."