[ Geralt is making an attempt to find Jaskier, but he is utterly unfamiliar with these woods. They are not the Duskwoods, though they bear some faint resemblance and a hum of magic that tells him they must be near the Feywilds. A danger in and of itself. And of course, Jaskier is of no help with navigation, meaning Geralt is left to simply...
Walk. To find his friend. Who he has explicitly told not to go wandering about and already knows his advice will not be heeded.
At least he can trust Ciri will be all right. Yen, too. This is one of those situations where he finds his concern lies with the bard more than it does with his daughter, if only because, unlike Ciri, he has not trained Jaskier to hunt and track through all manner of terrain. He sniffs the air, but cannot catch the scent of his friend through the thick damp moss. What he can smell is the more pungent odour of a small beast. Mog.
Hm.
He lifts the underbrush, ducking beneath it. Another few miles, he sees it: the feathered gryphon with his equally feathery master. He peers at the bird. Its tiny heartbeat is steady. Geralt crouches down and gently prods the sandpiper with a finger. ]
no subject
Walk. To find his friend. Who he has explicitly told not to go wandering about and already knows his advice will not be heeded.
At least he can trust Ciri will be all right. Yen, too. This is one of those situations where he finds his concern lies with the bard more than it does with his daughter, if only because, unlike Ciri, he has not trained Jaskier to hunt and track through all manner of terrain. He sniffs the air, but cannot catch the scent of his friend through the thick damp moss. What he can smell is the more pungent odour of a small beast. Mog.
Hm.
He lifts the underbrush, ducking beneath it. Another few miles, he sees it: the feathered gryphon with his equally feathery master. He peers at the bird. Its tiny heartbeat is steady. Geralt crouches down and gently prods the sandpiper with a finger. ]
Jaskier.