[ She isn't wrong. If he'd wanted to end a conversation, he would've, including walking away abruptly if he had to. (Estinien learned that firsthand, so she can always ask him.) As it is, he sets the bottle on the ground in favour of eating the skewer as he listens to her talk. He's aware it isn't real food, technically, but he's been subsisting off of a variety of bread and meat and cheese out there and little else, so this is a welcome reprieve. Besides, what the hell else is there to do at a gathering of this sort except drink and eat?
It's funny, she calls it a shard. A shard of the universe? They're not foreign concepts, but the terminology is...intriguing.
He hums, neither confirming nor denying outright, exactly how good he is. ] I'm not dead yet.
[ He only needs to be good enough to stay alive. That's the baseline by which he operates. As for her story—he seems to absorb it, curious, but also not having anything to offer in return about it. High stake politics are not what he bothers with. He watches them, watches those who play rise and fall, and carefully steps around it all. In the midst of that is the last place he ever wants to be; it's part of why he's so uneasy being in this world, knowing that there is something here that will be demanded of him sooner or later, something he can't avoid forever. And he doesn't want any of it. He has even less desire to entangle himself with those who appear eager to step into the fray.
He frowns at her. (This is too much like talking to Jaskier. How the fuck did they get to fishing?) ] On occasion. If the need arises. [ He pulls another cube of squash free and pops it into his mouth. ] Hunting is simpler.
[ At least for him. He can track and kill a deer or boar quicker than he can track and net some fish in the water. ]
no subject
It's funny, she calls it a shard. A shard of the universe? They're not foreign concepts, but the terminology is...intriguing.
He hums, neither confirming nor denying outright, exactly how good he is. ] I'm not dead yet.
[ He only needs to be good enough to stay alive. That's the baseline by which he operates. As for her story—he seems to absorb it, curious, but also not having anything to offer in return about it. High stake politics are not what he bothers with. He watches them, watches those who play rise and fall, and carefully steps around it all. In the midst of that is the last place he ever wants to be; it's part of why he's so uneasy being in this world, knowing that there is something here that will be demanded of him sooner or later, something he can't avoid forever. And he doesn't want any of it. He has even less desire to entangle himself with those who appear eager to step into the fray.
He frowns at her. (This is too much like talking to Jaskier. How the fuck did they get to fishing?) ] On occasion. If the need arises. [ He pulls another cube of squash free and pops it into his mouth. ] Hunting is simpler.
[ At least for him. He can track and kill a deer or boar quicker than he can track and net some fish in the water. ]