Jaskier "old-timey fuckboy" Alfred Pankratz (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cointosser) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
abraxaslogs2023-10-08 01:26 am
cointosser) wrote in abraxaslogs2023-10-08 01:26 am
you've never danced like this before [open]
Who: Jaskier and YOU
When: October catch-all, prior to event
Where: The new Casa de Mojo de Witcher, and Jaskier's plant shop in Cadens
What: Being a good business owner and bullying his family into a better home.
Warnings: N/A!
When: October catch-all, prior to event
Where: The new Casa de Mojo de Witcher, and Jaskier's plant shop in Cadens
What: Being a good business owner and bullying his family into a better home.
Warnings: N/A!
A SONG OF SAPLINGS
In the midst of the Cadens desert sits a small oasis surrounded by four walls. A Song of Saplings is (one of) Jaskier's pride and joy. This plant shop lay in the heart of Cadens's thriving market, with a handcarved, inviting sign of a tree's branches wrapping around the name of the store. A tiny bell with a sound similar to a bird's call rings as one steps inside -- only to be assaulted by a wall of green.
The goal of A Song of Saplings is to fill the desert with color. While most plants Jaskier offers are hardy cacti and woody bushes, there are special selections of flowers, saplings, and plants that simply should not be growing in the desert. Bright pink roses, verdant oak saplings, and a fuzzy-leafed favorite called "wolf's ear" are displayed among the store's rich wooden shelves, all personally grown by the Gem of the Phoenix himself. A selection of local artisan-crafted pottery fills one of the back shelves, each piece stamped by its creator. Other similar art for one's garden is for sale, including statuary of dragons, decorated birds, mermaids and unicorns -- pieces of the Continent that Jaskier has commissioned to decorate Cadens. And, of course, phoenixes.
At the back of the shop is a door that boasts a sign reading "EMPLOYEES ONLY", a bit of a modern touch Jaskier has picked up as advised by some of his more contemporary companions. Inside is a room set up similar to a break room, with a cushioned couch pushed against one wall, a small table with a smattering of chairs surrounding it, and a shelf containing cleaning tools and solutions. There also appears to be a miniature well where one can draw fresh water from, though it does not sink very deep.
The front counter of the shop bears a bowl full of candies and a young woman with a head full of black braids and what appear to be horns naturally curling from her head. She wears a facemask that covers her nose and mouth that, as is rumoured, she never removes. Quille's voice and face always remain somewhat blank and detached, but she is startlingly dedicated to aiding those who come seeking specific foliage. She can often be seen sweeping the same spot for an hour, or plucking leaves off the plants -- wait a second, did she just eat one? Further rumours circle that she is a daemon that's been exiled from her home, orphaned and left to thrive on Cadens's streets on her own, but Quille will limit conversation only to the purchasing and selling of plants. Somehow, she has extensive knowledge of every single plant in the shop, and appears to be its only employee.
The goal of A Song of Saplings is to fill the desert with color. While most plants Jaskier offers are hardy cacti and woody bushes, there are special selections of flowers, saplings, and plants that simply should not be growing in the desert. Bright pink roses, verdant oak saplings, and a fuzzy-leafed favorite called "wolf's ear" are displayed among the store's rich wooden shelves, all personally grown by the Gem of the Phoenix himself. A selection of local artisan-crafted pottery fills one of the back shelves, each piece stamped by its creator. Other similar art for one's garden is for sale, including statuary of dragons, decorated birds, mermaids and unicorns -- pieces of the Continent that Jaskier has commissioned to decorate Cadens. And, of course, phoenixes.
At the back of the shop is a door that boasts a sign reading "EMPLOYEES ONLY", a bit of a modern touch Jaskier has picked up as advised by some of his more contemporary companions. Inside is a room set up similar to a break room, with a cushioned couch pushed against one wall, a small table with a smattering of chairs surrounding it, and a shelf containing cleaning tools and solutions. There also appears to be a miniature well where one can draw fresh water from, though it does not sink very deep.
The front counter of the shop bears a bowl full of candies and a young woman with a head full of black braids and what appear to be horns naturally curling from her head. She wears a facemask that covers her nose and mouth that, as is rumoured, she never removes. Quille's voice and face always remain somewhat blank and detached, but she is startlingly dedicated to aiding those who come seeking specific foliage. She can often be seen sweeping the same spot for an hour, or plucking leaves off the plants -- wait a second, did she just eat one? Further rumours circle that she is a daemon that's been exiled from her home, orphaned and left to thrive on Cadens's streets on her own, but Quille will limit conversation only to the purchasing and selling of plants. Somehow, she has extensive knowledge of every single plant in the shop, and appears to be its only employee.
CASA DE WITCHER
Away from the hustle and bustle of the markets and Cadens's main streets is a rather decorated home, a stone wall giving its land a small bit of shade and privacy from its neighbors. The front entrance has two strangely rich and green box flowerbeds to welcome visitors, and a long, rough doormat gives indication of how little the owner wishes you to bring in mud and dirt. Even from the ground level, one can see that the rooftop patio is full of green plants and one twisted, knotted tree with bowed, weeping boughs and small white flowers.
Connected to the side of the house is a shed and a stable, housing two horses and, bizarrely, a bright golden chocobo. Along the walls are various tack and saddles for the creatures, and what appears to be a series of shelves that, upon closer inspection, have cat prints left behind in the dust. One large black horse and the chocobo are very friendly to any guests peeking their head in, but the second horse will snort and may bite if visitors come too close.
Inside the home are long hallways that lead to three different bedrooms, all decorated vastly different, respectful to their owners. The hallways are lined with shelves containing all manner of potted plants, skulls, and bones, along with something that looks suspiciously like a petrified lizard. A dining room has been set up with a rather expensive-looking icebox, and generally the small kitchen is always filled with bread or the smell of it. Curiously, food never appears to rot here, no matter how long it's left out in the open.
The home's dwellers are often seen going on and out at all hours of the night, sometimes bringing back monster corpses or... parts... with them. And more often than not, one can see (and/or) hear Jaskier sitting on the patio, practicing his music.
Connected to the side of the house is a shed and a stable, housing two horses and, bizarrely, a bright golden chocobo. Along the walls are various tack and saddles for the creatures, and what appears to be a series of shelves that, upon closer inspection, have cat prints left behind in the dust. One large black horse and the chocobo are very friendly to any guests peeking their head in, but the second horse will snort and may bite if visitors come too close.
Inside the home are long hallways that lead to three different bedrooms, all decorated vastly different, respectful to their owners. The hallways are lined with shelves containing all manner of potted plants, skulls, and bones, along with something that looks suspiciously like a petrified lizard. A dining room has been set up with a rather expensive-looking icebox, and generally the small kitchen is always filled with bread or the smell of it. Curiously, food never appears to rot here, no matter how long it's left out in the open.
The home's dwellers are often seen going on and out at all hours of the night, sometimes bringing back monster corpses or... parts... with them. And more often than not, one can see (and/or) hear Jaskier sitting on the patio, practicing his music.
no subject
He wasn't looking for anything in particular in prompting Jaskier to play his favorite song, beyond just wanting to share in something the other man is proud of. And yet, Jaskier has given him far more than he ever expected, far more than the other man can possibly know. He's seeing a glimmer of something again that brings him a different kind of hope, like peeking through a window with fogged glass and still noticing the candlelight even if it's muted.
Take this heart and break this heart for extraordinary things.
So much vulnerability in that, in the giving and taking of love.
Love.
He knows what it is, yes, elusive, powerful, destructive, constructive, woven through the fabric of all that ever was, is, and could be. Run from it and it will still follow. A lesson he's still learning, a thousand years on. Here in this moment, he's still learning.
The Doctor watches him with rapt attention and the fact that he quietly observes says much about how meaningful it is to him. When it's over, he stands up quickly, clapping enthusiastically with a cheerful smile on his face. He may technically be a lone audience of one, but he has all the passion of a crowd of twenty. ]
Oh, well done! You know, the mind is so beautifully complex. We take in and process new things everyday. New faces, countless new moments. Things are done to us and said to us and we catalogue it all. Some of it gets filed away for a short time, some of it for a long time. There are cognitive factors, physiological reasons why we might remember one thing and not another, but one of the most important reasons we hold onto something long after the moment is gone is we attach an emotion to it.
[ Sorry, Jaskier, he's definitely getting to the point any moment now — ]
That is to say — Jaskier, you're extraordinary and I won't ever forget this. This, this is a memory that never gets lost. Thank you. Being honest, this absolutely deserves far more than cake.
no subject
Perhaps he does enjoy performing an audience to silence. But the sound of applause is so much prettier on the ears.
Of course, he doesn't usually receive much more than "beautiful!" (fair enough) or "well done!" (acceptable) or "what a pretty song!" (his least favorite), and not such a glorious little explosion of meaningful thought, but he can hardly say he dislikes that nor the Doctor's enthusiasm for it all. It feels, growing stronger by the moment, a like soul to his own. He finds himself listening with equal rapt attention, his lute hugged to his chest as her final note thrums to silence.
He smiles at the Doctor, his heart beating nearly into his palms. His voice is much quieter than before, without its grandiose verbosity from before. It isn't just the reaction. Being called extraordinary. It is the memory of a particular face... or hearing those words from a voice not as talented as his own, but dedicated.
It is the promise of being remembered.] I hope you understand me when I say your reaction is payment enough.
no subject
I understand. And what you've shared is gift enough.
[ It's something wholly unique, to be able to create something like a story or a song, to reach down into the depths of one's heart (or hearts, as the case may be) and soul and make something that's not only to be admired, but something that's a part of yourself. A glimpse of what lies beneath. A gift of one's whole being. The Doctor will never forget it. He'll be greedy and want for more, too, naturally. ]
A good reminder for me, too. Sometimes when we least expect it and need it most, every now and then if we keep a bit of hope, there's a song.
[ Jaskier couldn't know what the Doctor has lost, and especially what he's lost recently. How done he felt with life and everything, how he'd given up on traveling the universe and helping anyone again, planting himself in the skies above London and swearing off anyone or anything ever again. He wasn't himself, he wasn't kind, he got lost. He's been finding his way back to himself slowly, and moments like this help beyond measure; a remembrance of all that's good.
He steps a little closer now, if Jaskier allows, and he points to the lute specifically. ]
Did you craft this yourself? Does it have a name?
no subject
[He doesn't need to know what hope the man has ever needed in his own life. Jaskier has plenty of experience himself. It's why he was ever the Sandpiper. When the elves needed hope, he wanted to be someone who could provide it. Even the faintest glimpse of it.
The Song of the Seven did that, too. He can only imagine that's why the shapeshifter chose him to write it.
Jaskier allows it. He even holds out the lute, though cautiously, if he wants to trace the strings.] Oh, no, I can't claim to have crafted her. She was a gift from my niece. I had one, from home... an elven lute, gifted by the King of Elves, I'd had since I was a young lad. Unfortunately, she suffered a brutal end, and I certainly was not able to bring her here with me. [He pats her smooth neck.] But this one's just as beautiful. No name. Not really. I've never given them names, but more of... a purpose. A virtue, sometimes. This one is Daydream.
no subject
[ It means something to find another here with a spirit and a way about him that feels so familiar to the Doctor so quickly. As though on a deeper level, they can understand one another. At least, that's his sense of the other man thus far. Enough for him to feel glad for the connection and the kinship he feels.
Now when the lute is offered to him, despite all his wild and unpredictable energy, the Doctor is slow and cautious as he reaches out to do just that, letting his fingers glide across the strings with a deft and reverent touch. ]
You lovely thing. Daydream. [ Yes, he does speak directly to the lute for a moment, a soft and warm smile on his face, attention focused solely on it as though it were a living creature with a heart and soul all its own. To the Doctor, on some level, it is. ] The embodiment of, I'd say.
[ When he pulls his hand back, his eyes flicker again to Jaskier. ]
Did you always know you wanted to do this? That feeling you were made for this and only this?
no subject
All the forms of it, the sources. The sound of inspiration, and the lute herself, and the artist who plays her.
It's so... intriguing. He feels some sense of how he feels when he speaks to Geralt. Like someone who speaks with the weight of years behind him.
It makes Jaskier feel strangely young -- and not in a terrible way.]
The years when I thought I had a choice are so far in the past, it's hard to say. [His smile is wry in return, if only because he can't help of that youth he feels.] I went to university and I learned many things. I was a noble, born of a viscount, and that was what I was meant to be. [He smiles to himself, staring at his lute, but not really seeing her. He sees something, someone, who is already gone.] In some ways, I think saying yes makes it all sound so easy, so simple. It never felt easy or simple. But once I wrote my first song, performed my first time... I don't think I ever thought to stray from it.
[Not that he was exceptionally good back then. He could admit it. Even in Posada, he was performing garbled trash he thought low-born peasants would enjoy. They had enjoyed throwing bread at him much more. But once he found his muse... once he found the Witcher, the Butcher of Blaviken, there was a fire lit inside him that had never gone out.]
no subject
The Doctor is never completely unaware of how he generally comes across, and that means he's extra aware that some simply can't abide his — by their definition — strange ways. That's alright, not everyone is for everyone. But it appears today, at least for this moment, they are for each other. In a manner of speaking. Life shifts and twists and turns and tomorrow that could change, but he lives for the now, and that now happens to be very good, with a new and important friend. ]
A love story for the ages, you and her. [ A little nod to the lute. ] Well, one of many. That's the grand thing about love. And ages. [ A brief smirk again, if only because he's quite at ease with the other man. ]
Not that you need to be told by anyone, least of all me, but you appear to be exactly where you belong. The journey before you arrived at being who you are now, the steps you took to make it there at all, it can elude many until they're long in their years. It's just that first spark sometimes, and then you know.
[ He's fidgeting in place a bit now and waves a hand out into the air. ]
And this place — have you been here long? This world on the whole, I mean.
no subject
These new Summoned. They really are fascinating.]
Oh, I doubt the ages shall ever run out of love. [Or ages. Until, like, the heat death of the universe or something. He's fairly sure he read about that in a book somewhere.
An easy smile curls his lips, his ankles crossed.] You're right, I hardly need to be told. And, you know, any one else, I might find it a bit condescending to boot. But you... [He leans in, looking over all the interesting angles of the Doctor's face.] You have a delightful sincerity about you.
[Or he's very good at pretending to be. Very good. Jaskier has spent far too long reading people to think he's wrong, however. He leans back again.] Far longer than I ever meant to be, and less time than I truly need. [He bets the neck of her -- Daydream.] A few years. I, thank you very much, have the great honour of being one of the first Summoned here. After the last thousand-or-so year gap in summoning. It's not exactly the highest of honours, but if you do wish to know a bit about this world, I can safely say I've seen much of it.
no subject
With all that he says sometimes, it might appear that his words couldn't possibly be genuine, but they are. It seems the longer he lives, the more sentimental and effusive he gets. Particularly when inspired by someone so heartfelt, talented, and genuine himself. He feels at least, called to his presence in some form.
It's why he also leans in a bit in return, assuming this is the done thing, with a soft expression on his face, one of both wonder and curiosity. ]
I'm a bit of the dangerous sort with that kind of offer, I could go on asking questions a long while and gladly take up all of your time and attention. So the question is, you don't mind having me a bit longer? [ He holds an index finger up in the air the moment the question leaves his lips. ]
I should explain a bit further: I'm a traveler — I've seen other worlds, loads of them, all across time and space. But this place is wholly unique to me.
no subject
Jaskier's gaze drops from the Doctor's fascinating, bright eyes down to his lips. That's a universal signal, is it not? Leaning in. Jaskier's reading the room here. The talk of love, the targeted interest. Even the energy in his words. Hardly is he against kissing pretty men in his shop. That's exactly why he owns it.]
Lucky I have so much experience with such dangerous sorts. [He leans in even closer, leaving hardly much room between them at all. Jaskier licks his lips. A traveler, was he? Even more dangerous.] I hardly mind at all. As alien as I am to this world, there's plenty of things to love in it.
no subject
The fact that Jaskier doesn't mind his questions is only all the more thrilling. ]
Oh, now there's a good start! First question then, if you're willing: what do you love here? Plenty of it, do tell. Dangerous minds want to know.
no subject
A bit hard to narrow it down. [The corners of his lips lift. He's definitely listening. It's a fair question. A good starter, if they were in need of one.
He can admit playing such a soft, intimate song has changed the air in the shop around them. And considering they're alone... well.]
The people. [Hard to narrow it down, but the answer is so simple when it comes.] From this world, and from a thousand others.
[Jaskier leans in, kissing the Doctor. It's brief, but firm. And when he pulls back, he's smiling still.] Even if I lived centuries, I would never be tired of meeting people.
no subject
Jaskier is close to him, then closer, then closer still, and suddenly his lips are on his.
Aesthetically pleasing and well-proportioned lips. Soft lips. Good lips? Yes, actually, they are good lips. Objectively speaking. On the whole spectrum of kisses in the Doctor's longer-than-typical lifespan, comparing Jaskier's mouth to countless others, if he were calculating the speed in combination with the angle of motion, the Doctor would most adamantly confirm the man in front of him has somehow managed the most perfect velocity. The kiss is neither too fast, nor too slow, nor too...too much anything. It doesn't linger overly long, such that the Doctor doesn't even need to determine what to do with his hands, or his own lips in return. In his long years, he's yet to attempt measuring kisses in calculable terms, but this does give him something to ponder.
Though he's not entirely sure why he would ponder it beyond this moment? The notion flusters him slightly.
Call him unaware, naive, stranger than the strangeness he already exudes, but whatever the reason, the Doctor is genuinely caught unaware. He shouldn't be, logically. He's a thousand years old, he's lived among humans for...a very long time now. He's been kissed many times, he's kissed others, he's observed kissing, he assumes that when people love each other, most of their time is spent kissing one another. And, okay, possibly other things, but mostly kissing. They love that, the kissing thing, and he's noted before that others have been good kissers, even if he wasn't expecting or looking for it himself.
At the rate that thoughts tumble through the Doctor's mind, he thinks all of this in the span of mere seconds, and he may be just a touch distracted enough to be a beat or two off from responding, but he does, belatedly, and then Jaskier's already pulled away and the Doctor's eyes are a little wider, but soft, and there's a flustered smile on his face as he scratches his head. ]
Oh! That — oh, you. You, the whole of you, I mean. Well done on all of you. I mean to say...that was — a kiss.
[ Yes, worth noting that was, in fact, a kiss. — what did he come in here for to begin with? He's clearly distracted enough in the best way, and he's still smiling but he moves away slowly, though not without adding more clearly and rationally — ]
I don't tire of meeting anyone, either. And I call it a good day — a very good day — when I can meet someone as extraordinary as you, Jaskier.
no subject
He thinks he can see a thousand things behind the Doctor's eyes, flitting like birds, back and forth, disturbed from their perches by a sudden thunder.
Jaskier's laugh follows as the birds settle down once more.]
It was, indeed, a kiss. [And if the Doctor had not put a hint of distance between them, he would have traced his lips with a thumb to seal it.] And not an unwanted one, I should hope. [He doesn't need to hope. He knows.
His smile glows.] You've no need for flattery when you've already my full attention, dear Doctor.
no subject
Not unwanted, I should hope. Oh, right, yes, he should respond to that, shouldn't he — ]
No, no, no — unexpected, but — [ He scratches at the side of his head again and does a small circle as he briefly paces. There's still a softness in his eyes when he looks at Jaskier again, though. An expression he can't mask. ]
It was, it was good. Quite good, actually, I should say! Don't want you doubting it.
[ To a certain extent, the Doctor can never really entirely fathom what could possibly exist about him, in particular, that might cause anyone to be interested enough to want to kiss him. It is flattering, and now Jaskier's conjured thoughts that tend to stay long dormant in the Doctor. ]
All credit to you, in fact, my thoughts are all a bit wibbly-wobbly. I know I wanted a plant when I came in here, now you've given me...far more than that.
no subject
He waves a hand.] Oh, I don't. Worry not.
[And he's humble to boot!]
I can't say I hate having such an effect on you. [Yes, he's practically glowing with it, actually.] Don't worry, I'll still give you a plant. Any that you'd like. And perhaps it won't be the only thing I leave growing in your hands?
[That could mean a lot of things.]
no subject
Something to ponder.
But then — ]
Ah, of course — quite literally the gift that keeps on growing!
[ Look at him, he's so clever (he thinks), they're just joking about plants growing, aren't they? That's all... ]
Is there anything better? Watching something grow from small and delicate to big and beautiful? Better still in your own hands, from seed to — well, the absolute essence of life in all its splendor and glory, and —
[ ...Were they only talking about plants? Now he latches on to the turn of phrasing, that something would be literally left in his hands to keep growing. He wonders...no, no, definitely just plants. Maybe gifts of another kind? The implications have him clearing his throat and oh, he's so dreadful at all of this, he knows it. ]
I have absolutely taken up too much of your time, although I'm not terribly sorry about it, being honest. Still! I forgot, I have to be off for a bit, a thing...a thing happening, important thing. I'll be back soon for the plant and the questions and the answers and the you, singing and being lovely you and all of...that.
[ Yes, you, all of that. Makes perfect sense, right?
He starts to move towards the exit now, abruptly. Not distressed, no, but suddenly like he doesn't belong somehow, like he's not sure about himself, like there's something he's...missing or not getting quite right, or not quite fitting, even though he's enjoyed all of it immensely. Near the exit, though, he blows a kiss to Jaskier. ]
Jaskier the Wonder — I won't forget this.
🎀
He's about to lock the door if he keeps going. Unfortunate he has a thing happening, or he's only just realized what he had an entire monologue describing.]
You made a good impression, Doctor. Don't overthink it. [He happily catches the kiss -- with his lips, in his mind -- and gives the Doctor a wave and a bit of a bow. It's certainly a flattering escape compared to some of the ones he's had in the past.] Neither will I. I promise.