[If his memories truly lingered long enough on when he was not this, he would agree that he was made to be a god. Not because he cares about lording himself above the mortals (though, admittedly, it's quite fun), but because he can do what he wants, when he wishes, which is mostly just showing off for their attentions.
He always did that. Didn't he? Like a peacock showing its feathers off... which he's also done. He can be whatever bird he wants, after all.
Jaskier leans across the space between them to kiss her, sauntering off his throne knowing the mortals are watching them. At least the ones not digging into the feast. Which he can hardly blame them for; they produce the sweetest fruits, the freshest vegetables. And Jaskier attracts the game.]
Do I still surprise you, after all this time?
[He's not sure it's possible. But he still does kneel at her feet, and kisses them... gentle presses of his lips to her feet, that travel up her calves.]
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He always did that. Didn't he? Like a peacock showing its feathers off... which he's also done. He can be whatever bird he wants, after all.
Jaskier leans across the space between them to kiss her, sauntering off his throne knowing the mortals are watching them. At least the ones not digging into the feast. Which he can hardly blame them for; they produce the sweetest fruits, the freshest vegetables. And Jaskier attracts the game.]
Do I still surprise you, after all this time?
[He's not sure it's possible. But he still does kneel at her feet, and kisses them... gentle presses of his lips to her feet, that travel up her calves.]