[Unfortunately -- and Jaskier completely has no idea where he picked this up form -- Mog has a tendency to run right into the danger when he's frightened of it. One could romanticize that perhaps his little gryphon fears for his friend, whom he probably thinks of eating on a regular basis, but it is not the truth.
Sometimes, his gryphon is a complete idiot.
Which he did not pick up from his father --]
What? [He holds a hand over his eyes, shielding them from wind and sand now, tightening the hood around him. He squints up at Geralt, then around them. Can't the Witcher just follow the scent of fish breath?] The sharper-winged ones, I think they could be. Do you have an idea of direction?
[As he asks, he does weave his magic to make his birds: several shimmering, blue-tinged falcons that gather on his shoulder.]
no subject
Sometimes, his gryphon is a complete idiot.
Which he did not pick up from his father --]
What? [He holds a hand over his eyes, shielding them from wind and sand now, tightening the hood around him. He squints up at Geralt, then around them. Can't the Witcher just follow the scent of fish breath?] The sharper-winged ones, I think they could be. Do you have an idea of direction?
[As he asks, he does weave his magic to make his birds: several shimmering, blue-tinged falcons that gather on his shoulder.]