[Even that slight drag of nails was enough to catch even more of his attention, whether it was intentional or not. It is very lovely to know that, despite the scar, his hand remains as sensitive as ever.
He must say, he never imagined he would attempt to flirt with a woman dressed like a doe. And yet was still somehow attractive around it. Despite it? Or does it accentuate certain, ah, assets?
She raises a good question.] I have always preferred not waiting. [Not that he knows what he's signing up for. Conveniently, he's always preferred not really figuring out things when it doesn't feel important. What could possibly happen? He's in the Horizon and he can cease to feel whatever he'd like. In this moment, with lovely company, he is free to relax. To let himself feel.
Jaskier barely needs encouragement. Her hand on his cheek is enough, warm palm to skin that is steadily growing much warmer. He leans in and, for a second, imagines she might simply kiss him. It would be quite fast, but he understands he is very handsome and charming, even if he was terrified a moment ago. To be fair, some women find fear attractive.
She doesn't, though. Luckily, he doesn't attempt to steal one from her, either. She blows smoke and he breathes it in -- and god, that's certainly a smell>. It must be because he sees smoke, he imagines it's like fire... it's like that, but like something else. Pungent. This is the Horizon, though. One can shift anything. He breathes it again, and this time the smell of the smoke is much more akin to nectar, like honeysuckle. Sweet. And it sticks to his throat, warm honey.
His eyes flutter.]
Oh. That's rather... [The word escapes him as he licks his lips.] New. That's new. [Deliberately breathing smoke is new when it so often carries... ah, less savory things with it.] I feel something. It's hard to describe. A... a teetering. A tottering.
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He must say, he never imagined he would attempt to flirt with a woman dressed like a doe. And yet was still somehow attractive around it. Despite it? Or does it accentuate certain, ah, assets?
She raises a good question.] I have always preferred not waiting. [Not that he knows what he's signing up for. Conveniently, he's always preferred not really figuring out things when it doesn't feel important. What could possibly happen? He's in the Horizon and he can cease to feel whatever he'd like. In this moment, with lovely company, he is free to relax. To let himself feel.
Jaskier barely needs encouragement. Her hand on his cheek is enough, warm palm to skin that is steadily growing much warmer. He leans in and, for a second, imagines she might simply kiss him. It would be quite fast, but he understands he is very handsome and charming, even if he was terrified a moment ago. To be fair, some women find fear attractive.
She doesn't, though. Luckily, he doesn't attempt to steal one from her, either. She blows smoke and he breathes it in -- and god, that's certainly a smell>. It must be because he sees smoke, he imagines it's like fire... it's like that, but like something else. Pungent. This is the Horizon, though. One can shift anything. He breathes it again, and this time the smell of the smoke is much more akin to nectar, like honeysuckle. Sweet. And it sticks to his throat, warm honey.
His eyes flutter.]
Oh. That's rather... [The word escapes him as he licks his lips.] New. That's new. [Deliberately breathing smoke is new when it so often carries... ah, less savory things with it.] I feel something. It's hard to describe. A... a teetering. A tottering.
[Yes. Nailed it.]