[Jaskier sighs. If he's hit a wall, he has hit a wall; what matters is the tree will be planted and thrive, and the desert peaches will provide local and fauna alike with fruits for sustenance. The memories may not be passed, but the memorial will provide --
He looks over. The winter? Shit. That wasn't far back at all.
Jaskier picks at his cuticles, fingers fluttering, as he begins to be incapable of staying still. It'd taken him over. Some sort of monster? Surely not a demon, was it? How many bloody demons could they be running into? No. Maybe it was something else. He's rather sure Geralt would be more specific, if it was that. If it were so pertinent.]
Perhaps he trusted you to do it. [It's only a guess. If they were close -- if it was anything like what Jaskier suspects he can understand of people.] But it isn't fucking fair it seems to fall on you, every time.
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He looks over. The winter? Shit. That wasn't far back at all.
Jaskier picks at his cuticles, fingers fluttering, as he begins to be incapable of staying still. It'd taken him over. Some sort of monster? Surely not a demon, was it? How many bloody demons could they be running into? No. Maybe it was something else. He's rather sure Geralt would be more specific, if it was that. If it were so pertinent.]
Perhaps he trusted you to do it. [It's only a guess. If they were close -- if it was anything like what Jaskier suspects he can understand of people.] But it isn't fucking fair it seems to fall on you, every time.