[Jaskier's curiousity has certainly been piqued for weeks, but he was unfortunately occupied with another new surge of memories from the Continent and the fallout from that. (Which was not a lot, to be fair, beyond Jaskier once again having to swallow how close to death he'd been. Once again.) And it has been even longer since he felt the need to indulge in the Horizon; he is no longer the frightened bard looking for a place to escape.
But there are people he must meet. So he takes to the skies, a sandpiper soaring the Horizon's winds that always flow right where he needs them. As he flies rings around the tower, he is more than somewhat startled by the sudden appearance of lightning, diving down to go into a window to the most winding library he's ever seen in his life. And the largest.
But no one appears to be there, so he flies down spiraling staircases until he finally senses company: fellow ravens (who he sings a song to) and a pair of darling leosylphs, who he knows plenty from the one he's forced upon Geralt. (And who, he notes, have pupils that gain larger as he flies in with that sudden stillness that accompanies predators. Jaskier quickly flies on.
And finally finds a man much lower than he'd once assumed. He flies through the door and, in one fluid motion, changes from a flying sandpiper to a eloquently dressed bard, his coat emblazoned with bright orange birds flying across a red sunset.] Ah, hello! I'm looking for the mage. [He's polite about it; after all, his own domain hosts many people other than himself. But as the man turns and Jaskier takes in his startlingly handsome face and large, kissable mouth, he instantly thinks: yes, this is absolutely a man Yennefer would fuck.] Istredd, is it?
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But there are people he must meet. So he takes to the skies, a sandpiper soaring the Horizon's winds that always flow right where he needs them. As he flies rings around the tower, he is more than somewhat startled by the sudden appearance of lightning, diving down to go into a window to the most winding library he's ever seen in his life. And the largest.
But no one appears to be there, so he flies down spiraling staircases until he finally senses company: fellow ravens (who he sings a song to) and a pair of darling leosylphs, who he knows plenty from the one he's forced upon Geralt. (And who, he notes, have pupils that gain larger as he flies in with that sudden stillness that accompanies predators. Jaskier quickly flies on.
And finally finds a man much lower than he'd once assumed. He flies through the door and, in one fluid motion, changes from a flying sandpiper to a eloquently dressed bard, his coat emblazoned with bright orange birds flying across a red sunset.] Ah, hello! I'm looking for the mage. [He's polite about it; after all, his own domain hosts many people other than himself. But as the man turns and Jaskier takes in his startlingly handsome face and large, kissable mouth, he instantly thinks: yes, this is absolutely a man Yennefer would fuck.] Istredd, is it?