[John nods in response to his companion’s questions. Observations. His own grip gentle while Jaskier clutches at him like a lifeline in the storm, for in many ways that’s what he is. He can see the confusion, the panic in the other’s eyes. But there is a new light of understanding dawning there as well, and John will stay with him for as long as he needs to kindle that flame alight.]

We are. [He agrees, softly.] We all are. But you are right.

[He glances up at the sky. The great rift, and the storm within.]

This place is a construct. A lie. And we do not belong here, Jaskier. No matter how perfect it has been made to seem.