[Jaskier raises his hands in defeat. Sam is, to both of them, a very close friend, and far be it from him to question his very, very strange customs, even after all this time.
What surprises him sometimes is that she recalls so far back. It's... it's always nice, not to be the only one. The only one clinging to such memories.
As her eyes sparkle, his light with a sunny glow. See, this is why he trusts no one else with this particular celebration. It's why the two of them have become so entwined in this festival.]
Exactly! You understand the vision! [This is why he only teases when he says this is about him. It isn't. Sometimes a genius needs someone just as insane to fully grasp the ideas.]
They're sure to think us. After all, they couldn't celebrate the gods like this without us. [Is he convincing himself? Hardly. Jaskier assumes he's always in the right, except the times he isn't.] Here, wait. Listen. We find the right Echo, and we start from there. Surely they will love our direct intervention.
[It's consent, isn't it? And isn't that all a god needs? A request they can easily give into -- perhaps vastly beyond what the mortal intended to receive?]
That one. [Jaskier finds a taller man with dark hair and -- dare he say -- large teeth.] What do you think? Arthur? Arthur's easy to start with. The man's a walking caricature as it is. He makes me feel like my accent is understated.
[Once he understood he had a particular way of speaking, obviously. His wings flutter as he practically dances over, draping himself over the mortal who feels nothing more than, perhaps, a smell of apple blossoms on the wind. His wings flutter over his face, feathers dragging over him. Perhaps his nose begins to grow a little larger.] Next! You pick one. Should be easy! There's so many awful freaks among us.
[It's definitely said affectionately. In truth, he enjoys most Summoned.]
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What surprises him sometimes is that she recalls so far back. It's... it's always nice, not to be the only one. The only one clinging to such memories.
As her eyes sparkle, his light with a sunny glow. See, this is why he trusts no one else with this particular celebration. It's why the two of them have become so entwined in this festival.]
Exactly! You understand the vision! [This is why he only teases when he says this is about him. It isn't. Sometimes a genius needs someone just as insane to fully grasp the ideas.]
They're sure to think us. After all, they couldn't celebrate the gods like this without us. [Is he convincing himself? Hardly. Jaskier assumes he's always in the right, except the times he isn't.] Here, wait. Listen. We find the right Echo, and we start from there. Surely they will love our direct intervention.
[It's consent, isn't it? And isn't that all a god needs? A request they can easily give into -- perhaps vastly beyond what the mortal intended to receive?]
That one. [Jaskier finds a taller man with dark hair and -- dare he say -- large teeth.] What do you think? Arthur? Arthur's easy to start with. The man's a walking caricature as it is. He makes me feel like my accent is understated.
[Once he understood he had a particular way of speaking, obviously. His wings flutter as he practically dances over, draping himself over the mortal who feels nothing more than, perhaps, a smell of apple blossoms on the wind. His wings flutter over his face, feathers dragging over him. Perhaps his nose begins to grow a little larger.] Next! You pick one. Should be easy! There's so many awful freaks among us.
[It's definitely said affectionately. In truth, he enjoys most Summoned.]