[ CLOSED ] when I'm like this, you're the one I trust

[cointosser]

Who: Jaskier, Ciri, Geralt, eventually Sam?
When: First week of October
Where: The desert outskirts of Cadens
What: Jaskier attempts to help Ciri learn magic with disastrous results.
Warnings: Bodily injury, may move to mild body horror depending.



[With the climate they found themselves in, it only made sense for them to really embrace their new... eccentric talents. At least, that was what Jaskier tells himself, and when he tells himself it -- regarding Ciri, in particular -- it all makes sense, of course. If they are all gifted with magic, then it only makes sense to make use of it.

After all, it's free. And they need skills to make a living off of. As far as he understands, Ciri is, er, well. Like Geralt. A hunter.

Magic, hunting. It all fits together.

Okay, fine. He's terribly bored also. And he's tired of being the only one with magic around here. (He's still avoiding the whole plant thing. He prefers not to think about it, actually.]

All right, my dear. I -- well, I don't claim to know many, er, spells, but we can start on what I started on. Simply a little bird. [He, of course, adds a completely unnecessary flourish to his movements, and a bit of sparks, holding out his hand with a dove sitting on his palm.]

It's a bit hard to describe. I sort of... imitated watching it, I suppose.

[He sort of definitely wants to see Ciri try to imitate his flourish.]

Comments

[cointosser]

[He laughs softly, and it leaves him breathless at the end of it, but gods, it was worth it to see that scowl. If there's one thing he can depend on, it's that Geralt will remain the same no matter what happens.

And it will always be easy to annoy him.

For once, Jaskier settles into silence. He's exhausted, to be honest, even now. The potion had healed the arm, but it couldn't make up for days of lying prone on a bed, without eating. Without resting, even. Which he continues to do, actually. He focuses on breathing, the slow in and out of lungs expanding, deflating. The beat of his own heart. At least he can't feel it anymore. How it has quieted to the rhythm it should hold.

Jaskier opens his eyes. He didn't remember closing them.]

Did you? Who? [He turns on his side, stretching out.] Estinien did too, actually. I found him in the Horizon. I suppose I saw a bit of it, in the chaos. Turns into a bloody dragon now. Or, well. Something a bit more scale-y than... elf-y.

[gynvael]

Amos. Just a human. [ Very human. Supposedly without a lick of magic or monsters in his world. Jaskier is unlikely to know him; the man had been quiet in the dungeons, and mostly out of sight, but he finds it interesting it occurred only after Thorne.

Or during the chaos? He looks over, curious. Estinien, too, was it? Hm. He considers asking more, but Jaskier looks tired as fuck and his only intention had been perhaps, to let Jaskier know that he isn't alone in this strange occurrence. He lets it be. It isn't long before Jaskier's breathing begins to steady and deepen. Once he's certain Jaskier won't wake, he silently slips off the bed. The bard sleeps like a rock, anyhow.

He lingers for a second, watching. (It'd been far too fucking close. All of this.) Then he leaves, to see if he can find either Sam or Ciri. Maybe find something he can do while they've taken over Sam's home. ]