[Oh, he wants to kiss that stupid forehead of his. Except he can't reach. Which is a shame, on top of the suspicion he does not think Estinien would appreciate it.
He can understand what he means, far from a fighter himself or no. It's not merely that they feel powerless. In the end, they sort of are. That much was clear even from the dungeons underneath Thorne, where magic was impossible. Where they could even muddle with Geralt's mutations, a feat, the Witcher has assured him, that should have never been possible.
Instead of that, Jaskier shakes his head with a sigh, his shoulders rising and falling.] You aren't wrong to think so. There's so little we could affect. Even with all that work. That planning.
[Not that Estinien knows about his plans to jailbreak Geralt and, if possible, the others, but... perhaps he should not explain his initial plan only involved Geralt.
He lifts his head again.]
There is a small something. [He pauses as his fingers worry together and he takes a few steps away, deciding if he wants to bring it up or not. (Even if he's already began.) It's still so new to him, a bud -- hah -- that may offer no fruit, even in time. He turns back sharply, and offers his hand out; as his fingers stroke over their same palm, ivy begins to grow, twirling about his fingers and falling down. The poison sort he remembers from his childhood, bringing terrible itches after a foolish exploration into the forest.]
This. [It, of course, doesn't look like much. Like Horizon magic. It isn't even the first plant he's made here, obviously. There are the vines surrounding them, after all.] It isn't only something that exists in the Horizon. When we arrived in Cadens, I, ah... stumbled upon the discovery. [Please say you're catching on, Estinien, because saying I can grow plants sounds sort of stupid and terribly fanciful.] I could not before. I have never been taught. It's not the sort of magic I was granted in this land. I believe -- and take it with a grain of salt, as it's only a hypothesis -- that it is something the Singularity gave to me. And if that's true, I am not so sure anyone could... affect it. Not in Thorne, at least.
[The ivy withers and dies as he closes his hand.] That's the hope, though I don't know if the knowledge brings any balm. In the end, it may not be truly mine, either. It simply feels... different. The way my heartbeat is my own.
[Or he's being terribly poetic for no reason. It's only that this magic, he did it without meaning to. Without thought. He hadn't even known he could. But when he tries to use it, it comes. Easily, without thought.
Fuck. It's not much, but it's something. Isn't it?]
I don't suppose you're also waking up in piles of orchids on occasion, are you?
no subject
He can understand what he means, far from a fighter himself or no. It's not merely that they feel powerless. In the end, they sort of are. That much was clear even from the dungeons underneath Thorne, where magic was impossible. Where they could even muddle with Geralt's mutations, a feat, the Witcher has assured him, that should have never been possible.
Instead of that, Jaskier shakes his head with a sigh, his shoulders rising and falling.] You aren't wrong to think so. There's so little we could affect. Even with all that work. That planning.
[Not that Estinien knows about his plans to jailbreak Geralt and, if possible, the others, but... perhaps he should not explain his initial plan only involved Geralt.
He lifts his head again.]
There is a small something. [He pauses as his fingers worry together and he takes a few steps away, deciding if he wants to bring it up or not. (Even if he's already began.) It's still so new to him, a bud -- hah -- that may offer no fruit, even in time. He turns back sharply, and offers his hand out; as his fingers stroke over their same palm, ivy begins to grow, twirling about his fingers and falling down. The poison sort he remembers from his childhood, bringing terrible itches after a foolish exploration into the forest.]
This. [It, of course, doesn't look like much. Like Horizon magic. It isn't even the first plant he's made here, obviously. There are the vines surrounding them, after all.] It isn't only something that exists in the Horizon. When we arrived in Cadens, I, ah... stumbled upon the discovery. [Please say you're catching on, Estinien, because saying I can grow plants sounds sort of stupid and terribly fanciful.] I could not before. I have never been taught. It's not the sort of magic I was granted in this land. I believe -- and take it with a grain of salt, as it's only a hypothesis -- that it is something the Singularity gave to me. And if that's true, I am not so sure anyone could... affect it. Not in Thorne, at least.
[The ivy withers and dies as he closes his hand.] That's the hope, though I don't know if the knowledge brings any balm. In the end, it may not be truly mine, either. It simply feels... different. The way my heartbeat is my own.
[Or he's being terribly poetic for no reason. It's only that this magic, he did it without meaning to. Without thought. He hadn't even known he could. But when he tries to use it, it comes. Easily, without thought.
Fuck. It's not much, but it's something. Isn't it?]
I don't suppose you're also waking up in piles of orchids on occasion, are you?