[Oh, if Jaskier wasn't already all up his own ass about his wine, he certainly would be now. It's with a knowing smile he takes a sip himself, and. Yes. Yes, that's perfect. The soft bite, the fruit. Mm.
Damn. If he wasn't such a good bard, he may have run a very nice vineyard.
Jaskier sets his goblet down between his feet and rubs his hands together, getting comfortable for the story. It's so rare that anyone tell him one... especially when his company was often Geralt, who had never told an entire story in his life.
She has the voice for it. The countenance. Already he can see she would make a good teacher to those who would listen. And he did. Quite happily, really. Though he couldn't quite help himself, with their being in the Horizon.
At their feet, a shadowing girl was walking through tall, pale trees, their limbs spreading out. Much like the illusions of his birds, the images were somewhat translucent, but solid looking enough to be plucked from the ground.
A dark, evil thing. A swirl of black smoke that grew four legs, stepping out from between the trees to press its muzzle against her chest, four antlers spreading out like hands from its head.
And then the girl. With two tiny antlers sprouting from her head.
When the story was over, he refilled her wine, smiling.] I suspect every story intends to end that way.
[He didn't think this one was hers, though. To have lost everything she gained... no. He thought she was too quiet for that. Too kind, in those softer moments. Ah. She did have the horns, though that imagery was mere coincidence.
In the end, how much did he truly know of her so far?]
no subject
Damn. If he wasn't such a good bard, he may have run a very nice vineyard.
Jaskier sets his goblet down between his feet and rubs his hands together, getting comfortable for the story. It's so rare that anyone tell him one... especially when his company was often Geralt, who had never told an entire story in his life.
She has the voice for it. The countenance. Already he can see she would make a good teacher to those who would listen. And he did. Quite happily, really. Though he couldn't quite help himself, with their being in the Horizon.
At their feet, a shadowing girl was walking through tall, pale trees, their limbs spreading out. Much like the illusions of his birds, the images were somewhat translucent, but solid looking enough to be plucked from the ground.
A dark, evil thing. A swirl of black smoke that grew four legs, stepping out from between the trees to press its muzzle against her chest, four antlers spreading out like hands from its head.
And then the girl. With two tiny antlers sprouting from her head.
When the story was over, he refilled her wine, smiling.] I suspect every story intends to end that way.
[He didn't think this one was hers, though. To have lost everything she gained... no. He thought she was too quiet for that. Too kind, in those softer moments. Ah. She did have the horns, though that imagery was mere coincidence.
In the end, how much did he truly know of her so far?]