abraxaslogs | [ dec / open ] what even is the point of december without christmas presents?

[ He opens his mouth to answer her when he hears the door swing open. And he knows, even before Jaskier speaks, who it is.

Possibly, he should have specified that this is not a party; he'd only informed Jaskier where he would be because he knows the bard and Julie are friends, too, or at least get along well; given that her entire chosen family in Nott has fucked off to Thorne, he'd thought she could use more than one Witcher to show up looking in on her.

He sighs a little when his friend arrives as he does. ] Jaskier.

[ There's a not now underlying it, though maybe a careless whirlwind is exactly what Julie needs for a distraction. He won't pretend to truly know, so he just helps scoot some of her blotchy plants over—he realizes they're technically ruined, but part of him still doesn't want to see her creations crushed, whether she deems them failures or not—to make room for what's now the three of them on her floor. Nearby, he thinks he hears a lamb bleat. ]

[ She peers over her shoulder when the door opens again. The wave she gives him is far from enthusiastic, not least because she is still actively drinking from this bottle of mead. A keen eye would catch that that bowl of punch is half-empty, too.

It's fine. She was just doing magic based on her emotions, no big deal. When Ciri visited, she was shooting a gun, so things are definitely improving.

Inching closer to Geralt to help create space, she offers the bottle to Jaskier with a tired shake of her head. ] Not settin' 'em on fire. Well, not on purpose anyway. Just tryin' to change the color.

[ The lamb baas quietly and she calls to it, the way one might to a dog. ] Hey. Shut up. There's hay right there.

[Geralt's tone is an admonishment, as it usually is, so Jaskier ignores it. What is far more important to him is Julie's response, which is... muted, at best. His smile falls a little, though he doesn't hesitate to take the offered bottle to steal a drink from.

So there they are. Drinking on the ground.

Oh. Strong stuff, too. He gives a throaty appreciation with a mumble as he wipes his mouth, handing it back, laying his legs out in front of him. As natural as if he's been living his life on the floor. Who needs chairs, anyway?

He sits up, a little stiff, looking at Julie across the bulk of Geralt.] Ah. You're having trouble with magic, too? [The too slips out, but he leads on despite it hitting him heavily.] I have found that forcing it, a bit like a tough shit, makes it all the more messy.

[There is a lamb, but he's choosing to simply accept its existence here, along with the flowers, and the... strange set up of whatever that is. Julie is clearly in a mood, which he's noticed among his friends that celebrate this holiday -- that something about it seems to cause these moods.]

[ That's certainly a lamb. He hasn't any idea why it's here, but he's also accepted the bizarre nature of the Horizon. After that...costume party, he's learned not to ask after specific things. Fortunately, the wolf is still somewhere back where the food is, possibly devouring a stolen chunk of meat, and not near the lamb.

His gaze shifts to Jaskier, scrutinizing for a second. Too. He's noticed, obviously. The plants that wilt and crumble even when Geralt has given them some care, in an attempt to see if he can coax them the traditional method. (He will not get into why saving Jaskier's fucking plants feels important; it isn't to do with the usefulness of the herbs, most of which can be bought if needed.) But it's the first time Jaskier has admitted it out loud around him, that his magic's been fucking up. Given the circumstances around everyone here, it's hardly unexpected. Geralt doesn't draw on that magic to the same degree, so the only thing he's had to deal with are sleepless nights and some instability in the Horizon. The latter's mostly started to steady itself out.

He takes the bottle from Jaskier, whether or not it's offered. His remark is made into the mouth of the bottle, but it's clearly meant to be heard, though there's no needle behind it. ] Words from a renowned poet.

[ The bottle is passed back to Julie. He hasn't got a problem with drinking on the ground. The liquor's the same at any elevation. ]

[ Look, she could have put a camel over there, it probably would have been more accurate, but they smell and also spit. It is very important that the birth of Christ be witnessed by an animal, however, and a lamb seemed innocuous enough. It just has to sit there for a while and be cute. And not get eaten. Which, to be fair, Julie had not anticipated being a necessary element to the nativity.

Jaskier definitely catches her by surprise, maybe just because he sounds so melancholy to be saying such a stupid thing, and she chokes on a laugh as she takes the bottle back from Geralt. ] Can't think of a classier way to put it, really.

[ With a swig and another pass of the bottle to Jaskier, she shakes her head and makes a vague noise. ] It's just always the end that fucks up. Like, I set the flowers on fire, so fire should be easy, right? Watch this shit.

[ Both hands in front of her, she narrows her eyes and focuses on the space above her palms, where a sparkling ball of flame suddenly erupts into existence. It holds for a minute, wobbling, then abruptly explodes into a shower of ash. She doesn't know why it won't stay lit when the flowers keep catching fire.

She dusts her hands off with a look of irritation at the whole exercise. ] Every single fuckin' time, for days now.

[He does not return Geralt's glance, though he feels the Witcher's eyes on him. At that remark, however, Jaskier flails an arm and hits his shoulder.] Oh, shut it! I speak for the common man as much as the artistic one, thank you.

[Besides, this was the result he'd hoped for. Julie laughs, and though it does not solve any problem, it feels like the weight in the room is lessened from the sound of it.

He takes the bottle back from her, another swig. He swears he can taste both of them on the lip. It brings to mind Geralt talking to her at Sam's so very long ago. Jaskier had taken a look at her and almost couldn't believe it. And Geralt came here, without him, to spend time with her. Obviously, they were well acquainted.

It was only a funny thought. So vastly different their spheres, but they all fit together so easily. Their experiences, in some ways, were universal.

Magic included. It's always the end. It is. He can grow his plants, and they'll be stable. For a time. And there, at the end, at their roots... that's where they rot.

The fire makes him jump, but it's nothing more than what Geralt's Igni has done to a pile of firewood (though he swears Geralt has lit them in a specific way to scare him on occasion.) It's a pretty thing, the fire. Wildly dangerous. It burns off of nothing, into itself. He must wonder what Yennefer would say about it. He knows little himself, but Jaskier, even as a magic layperson, knows that fire magic is forbidden.

Hard to say why. Simply expected from its destructive force, maybe.]

It's certainly a striking bit of chaos. [A shame he isn't better learned on the subject, because it would be a thrill to help. Yet... he can't much help himself with it either, can he?] You know, where we come from, it's said to be a forbidden magic. Fire. I don't know the specifics, but I imagine it must be quite hard to control. I think that you can create it at all, out of nothing -- certainly an impossible feat! -- is remarkable in itself. Perhaps if you play out differently how you want the spell to end, you'll find something to perpetuate it instead.

[It's advice to himself as much as her. If he uses the magic differently, perhaps... perhaps he can learn how to control it better. To understand why the thoughts he has have fucked with it so much.

Or it's bullshit and he wants to think that it's as simple as that. Be creative. Use it for something else. Make another cactus shaped like -- well, something, and it'll all work out in the end.]

Edited 2022-01-14 05:32 (UTC)

[ His attention is curious, head tilted as the ball of fire glows between her palms—then abruptly shatters. She might consider her demonstration a failure, but that she can even draw on it in the first place is significant.

It's true, the Brotherhood shuns fire magic. Something about the destructive nature to the soul. Maybe there's merit to it, maybe there isn't. Fire certainly consumes. And where is the line, anyway? Igni is not so much the creation of fire as it is the application of heat. He can't conjure a flame in his palm. But one could argue that's a fine line. Though he supposes few turn their thoughts to what it means for a Witcher and their Signs. They're not meant to have souls for a flame to devour. Or something of that sort. Whatever shit it is people say.

Still, it does make him consider, both Julie's problem and what Jaskier is saying. Strange, when he stops too long over Jaskier having magic now. That he knows what it is to use it, learn it. (How should Jaskier feel, Geralt has wondered, if he were to return to a world where he will no longer have access to it? Would he hesitate?)

He picks up one of the plants and holds it up. ] I've found training comes easier when you have a target.

[ As in, perhaps she just needs something to set on fire to start with. Instead of struggling to maintain it in the empty air. ]

Why would it be forbidden? It was the first thing I learned. Nadine, too. Well, second. We learned how to change our hair, in case we needed to run. [ And in Julie's case, to maintain it at all. Either way, she finds the idea of banning fire magic confusing. Wouldn't it be important to be able to control all the elements, at least to an extent? Couldn't water, earth, air, couldn't they all be just as destructive as fire if not controlled properly?

She is, after all, from Kansas. She fears a tornado far more than a fire.

Geralt gives her something to aim at, and uncertainty floods her eyes. Not at the idea, but at her command over her own power. It's one thing to make a ball that she knows will fizzle on its own because it's happened fifty times in a row. It's another to set something else aflame. She also doesn't necessarily trust herself to light just the one plant on fire, to not mistakenly set them all blazing.

Nadine would say it's not safe, says a voice in the back of her mind, the same one that drives most of her terrible decisions. Julie's vision turns the red that she couldn't get into the petals, and she takes another drink. Nadine would tell you to sober up first. She wouldn't've let you even make the flowers to do this.

She straightens slightly. The only thing giving her pause now is Geralt himself, and she gestures at his hand. ] Put it down. I don't wanna catch you, too.

Edited 2022-01-16 00:14 (UTC)

[Jaskier shrugs, leaning back on his hands.] I'm not entirely sure. It's one of those things, you know. Some rules based on something that possibly happened hundreds of years ago. Traditions.

[Jaskier rolls his eyes at Geralt's advice, but it's simple and it's probably not wrong. After all, the Witcher has more to do with fire than himself, even if it was mostly candles and roadside campfires. He steals a swig of drink once Julie's set it down, turning in interest to watch her. He can tell that she's genuinely trying to pull on it, to learn, instead of letting the Horizon do it for her.

He laughs.] All right, I'm not saying I want you to, but it would be a little funny.

Some mages claim it consumes too much of you. A high cost.

[ There's a reason for those claims, however small or large; he just suspects its truth holds less water in this world, if it does at all. Enough is different here that he can't speak to much with certainty. The magic, the monsters. It's familiar, all of it, and yet not.

He gives Jaskier a sidelong glance for that remark. She isn't wrong; he'd prefer to remain not ablaze. He clears a wide enough circle around the single plant, so that the small potted forest she's created won't catch.

Normally, he'd be more cautious than even this, but the Horizon is what it is. Nothing's permanent. Not even destruction. ]

I'd hate for my flaming corpse to inspire your next song.

[ She leans over to give Jaskier a light swat on the arm with the back of her hand, but it's half-hearted because she's covering a laugh. ] I'm not gonna set him on fire. I don't wanna put you out of a job.

[ Turning back to the plant, she takes a deep breath, holds her hands up again. She has learned, over the past few weeks, to better wear mental blinders and focus in on only what she's trying to do. It's still not easy, and good god does she wish that Abraxas had the medical technology to produce Adderall, but she has figured out how to shut out the world with only her mind. Everything else muffles itself around her, until there's only the stupid fucking blotchy poinsettia. All she has to do it make it burn.

Her teeth clench and her brow furrows. Some of the petals do start to sort of smoke and curl, but the flowers overall stay stubbornly not on fire. You're grabbing, not directing, Nadine whispers in her ears, and though it's always been said kindly in the real world, now it is almost a taunt. You always grab. Like her magic isn't in fucking books, telling her exactly what to do. All she has to do is memorize, not pull it out of herself.

The poinsettias should be red. Nadine is white, perfect and pristine and immaculate. Julie is red, blazing, glittering red, and everyone knows that poinsettias are supposed to be red.

She grabs in her mind and the magic pulls back like a lassoed bull, but she still has the rope. Her entire body is tense, almost painfully so, and she can feel herself straining, her heart racing. Like a switch, the plant suddenly catches flame.

Which would be great, if she had better strength to pull back against the bull, to make it stop where it is. She doesn't.

The plant she's focused on goes from a cheery blaze to a towering eruption in a blink, though it burns back down almost as quickly, leaving just ash in the pot. Every other flower instantly turns scarlet, all at once, and then the rope snaps, drops her abruptly back into her body like falling from a cliff.

It's not as severe a descent as it has been in the past; she doesn't collapse this time. She does black out for a second, like standing up too quickly, but catches herself on her palms, arms aching and heavy. ]

I fucking hate poinsettias.

You're lucky it won't. [He sneers at Geralt, but it's all in good fun. And if the Witcher is going to stand back, so, too, will Jaskier. He sort of just scuttles back like a crab after Julie's hit, giving her a wry grin.] You have to agree, it'd certainly make him smell better.

[A pail of water appears by Jaskier's boot, though, just in case. (It's mostly a joke.)

They go still, and wait. Apparently they both can sense this is taking some concentration. However, Jaskier does begin to clap when the plant catches fire. That's. That's what she was going for, right?

Probably not the raging inferno, which makes Jaskier scramble back with a yell even further, only just missing a bit of a singe to the tail of his coat. The fire scorches, burning like a storm, and then at once, dies.

Well. Fuck.]

You... you meant to do all that, right? Because it was, er. Very impressive.

[ It's nice to know what they both think of the idea of him on fire. He grunts softly, but that's the only comment from him on the situation.

His attention instead is on Julie. He's curious, how chaos manifests for her. He's watched Jaskier perform a small spell or two, but Jaskier's magic is—ironically—largely a quiet affair. A bird formed in the air, plants that simply grow and reach. No spells for combat. Geralt has never brought it up, either. He knows Jaskier finds his reason for being in other places. As an artist, a storyteller. Not a fighter.

This world has enough fighters, anyway.

He grasps Jaskier's elbow as the fire sweeps through. Faint concern knit his brows together, though all he does is take a step in front of Jaskier, an instinctive motion—and when Julie collapses, he steps forward again, reaching to offer a hand or to catch her if she needs it.

The one sacrificed flower aside, the rest are now gleaming red. It is impressive, actually. He sees what she means, the unpredictability of it. ]

[ She takes Geralt's hand when it's offered, and even just the way she grips at him that the whole display really took a lot from her. She doesn't know if it's like this for other people -- Nadine had once pointed out that this was all much harder for people like them, who come from worlds where magic doesn't actually exist. That even non-magic users from the other worlds have a leg up on them because at least they have a frame of reference, an idea.

There's a slight wobble to her step when she stands, but she steadies herself and straightens. Her knuckles are white around Geralt's fingers. Looking first at Jaskier, then around them at the red flowers, she takes a deep breath, heart still pounding.

You meant to do all that, right? ]

Well... fire, color. It's what I set out for.

[ Which, of course, means that she absolutely fucking did not mean to do all that. ]

[The way Geralt gets in front of him is old hat, and he peers carefully around his shoulder once the blaze is gone. Shit. He hadn't realized that, here, it would take so much out of her. Geralt already has hold of her, but Jaskier immediately moves to her other side as well in case she drops again. His hand lands on her arm.

Honestly, it was very impressive. He's selling her short, for sure.]

I can see why you've chosen here to practice. [He dusts a bit of ash from her, and from the end of his coat, looking over the plant that has been completely decimated. At least he understands why he's felt like Geralt was in relatively good hands.

He trusts dangerous hands more than... magically competent ones. Though one should hope they go hand in hand.] I'm sure it's fuck-all annoying to hear, but the old adage that practice makes perfect still rings true. I will say, you do seem perfectly suited to the more destructive part of the chaos. Maybe you should lean into it. Burn down a few buildings. Create new traditions around an... enormous bonfire.

Edited 2022-01-24 07:17 (UTC)

[ In reality, Geralt's never seen anyone bring their magic into the Horizon, either. Nearly everyone he's met has made use of its ability to manifest at will—but no one's used it as grounds to practice magic that they hold in the real world.

Speaking of chaos and destruction. Maybe Ciri might find some use for that, rather than simply lessons of theory with Yen. Though he isn't sure. Hers is a unique case—and she's just as liable to explode out there by simply attempting magic in here.

He helps steady Julie, and gives Jaskier a look that suggests no one should be burning any buildings down. But for Geralt, it isn't destruction that he sees in what occurred. It's something else. ]

You only set fire to one flower. [ He indicates the pot reduced to ash. The rest are intact. Cheerfully scarlet, just as she's been attempting from the start. It isn't perfect control—but it isn't a total lack of it, either. ] The one you were aiming for.

[ It really does boil down to Julie not particularly trusting herself in the real world. She's done magic out there, of course, but she's too scared of burning half the town to the ground to try larger things like this. At worst, she figures, she just won't get any better outside of the Horizon. Nothing changes. At best, it carries over. Win-win, as far as she's concerned. It's not a method that she necessarily thinks would work for anyone with magic from their own world, but her magic is all due to Singularity, and where would it be stronger than... in the Singularity? Is that where they are? (Julie doesn't really understand what, exactly, the Horizon is. She wasn't there for the field trip part.)

She knows that, logically, she should be quite proud of what she managed. Geralt is right, she'd only incinerated the single plant that she meant to, and she supposes that she is pleased. But there is something terribly unnerving in accomplishing something of this magnitude without actually meaning to do it. Almost like an out-of-body experience, and not a fun one like taking a bunch of pills. A really scary one where she doesn't know exactly what she'll find when she returns back into herself. She can handle small magic, the fireballs and changing one flower's color. These huge bursts... they're something else entirely.

Once she has her footing back, stops feeling off-balance, she looks around at all the flowers and sighs. ] Yeah. [ It makes her skin crawl, makes her antsy, and with a wave of her arm, the plants all suddenly disappear so she doesn't have to look at them anymore. The whole concept of being able to do something so big (even though it's so small in the grand scheme...), it's foreign and uncomfortable to her. For her, what she just did is enough to have changed her entire world. Not just her world, on a personal scale, but the entirety of human history as she had known it. And here, it's absolutely nothing. Laughably nothing.

Once they're no longer standing in a field of poinsettias, Julie begins to walk away, toward the food, though she stoops to pick up the bottle on the way. Swallowing the gulp she takes, she looks halfway back over her shoulder. ] Hey, y'all want some of this? Promise I didn't actually cook any of it. It's my family's recipes, so it should be good.

[Oh. He stiffens a little as the domain changes all at once, the flowers disappearing. It's a bit sad, he thinks. They were such a lovely shade of red. Despite it, Julie appears even more dissatisfied.

Then again, if this is like his situation with Ciri, he sort of understands. Capable of power, unable to control it accurately.

The threat of blowing up a friend. Or, in this case: setting them ablaze.

That's awfully encouraging for Geralt. If he wasn't already well aware of Geralt's affections for Julie, it's never been more obvious than in this moment. He looks between them for a moment, perking up at the mention of family recipes. Oooh, delightful!] Why, actually, I'd love to. Is this all traditional? For the holiday? Oh, what's this one? And, you know, I've been meaning to ask -- what is with the lamb? It's not part of the meal?

[Considering it's alive and running around.]

[ His gaze is a bit thoughtful, a hint of concern remaining until she's up on her own feet, bottle in hand. He gives a glance behind him at Jaskier, then follows Julie to the table overflowing with plates and...everything. He's not sure if their little exercise helped, but Julie seems to have moved onto other matters and he knows her well enough by now to understand that that functions as better, for the time being.

His wolf may or may not be chewing on a leg or other from the ground, clearly stolen while they were occupied with burning flowers. Geralt pats the animal absently on its head.

He hovers a bit—uncertain what he's looking at. Food, obviously, but. It's piled so high, he doesn't even know where to begin. He ends up taking a bottle of vodka, and pulls up the nearest chair. He swings his legs over it. ]

A little undercooked if it is.

[ It's very much alive. He can hear it bleating again. ]

Edited 2022-02-04 02:03 (UTC)

[ It didn't not help. Later, she will actually be quite pleased. But right now, it's so much, it's uncomfortable. Six months ago, she didn't even know magic could be real, let alone that she would be able to do it. She still hasn't exactly figured out how she feels about it, not when she knows how easily she could fuck up such power.

She sighs as she rounds the table, sets out plates. It's with an air of humor though, and an overdramatic eyeroll as she walks toward the Nativity to explain. As she names people in the story, she moves between the mannequins that stand in their places. ] The lamb's not for eatin'. It's part of the Nativity. Every year, for Christmas, people set up replicas of Jesus's birth, sometimes with real actors and stuff. Jesus is the son of God, and he was born to a virgin named Mary. Mary and her betrothed, Joseph, were travelin' through Bethlehem when she went into labor. They went to the inn, but there wasn't room for them, so the innkeeper offered them the barn. After Jesus was born, they put him in the manger. [ She helpfully lifts a baby doll out of the manger, waves it a little and then puts it back down. ] These three are the Three Wise Men. They followed a star to the newborn king, and they brought him gifts, gold, frankincense and myrrh. The lamb is 'cause you usually have animals, but I didn't want fuckin' camels and donkeys in here.

[ She is extremely aware that almost nothing she said made any sense to them, but they're the one who asked. And she gave them the short version too.

As she returns to the table, she begins pointing things out there, too. ] So there's honey ham or fried turkey, for meat, then you got all the normal sides. Mashed potatoes, gravy, green bean casserole, sweet potatoes... that's macaroni and cheese, there's roast brussels sprouts, bacon creamed corn, dressin', potatoes au gratin. Plus cranberry sauce, dinner rolls, cornbread and biscuits. Everyone usually drinks wine for Christmas dinner, but I got winter punch and hot buttered rum, too.

[ And absolutely none of that even addresses the entirely separate table of just desserts. ]

[Oh, gods. It's that same thing Nadine was talking about. Jaskier is nodding as she explains it, attempting to keep it all straight, but honestly he's already peeling pieces of the ham off and stuffing them in his mouth.

If you ask him, their religion has far too many magic men involved in it. And sexless births? No thank you.

Not that he wants any births near him, but --]

And do you eat it? After? Or you simply... er, release it back to its owners? You rent the lamb?

[He feels he needn't get into how one cannot have children while being a virgin, but he can guess that's part of the magic.]

[ It makes barely a little sense, but Geralt's largely used to this. Not only from Julie, but also from Dean. Occasionally Sam. Things that go over his head. They have all vaguely reference the same concept, though, when it comes to this Christmas thing, so over the past week, he's been piecing it together. So far, he's gathered an abundance of food and magical myths are involved, which truthfully isn't that foreign. When it comes down to it, that's every damn celebration and festival.

Folk mostly just seek a reason to eat and drink and tell stories.

Geralt, too, has a leg in his hand, picking meat off the bone. He lets Jaskier ask the questions. The lamb, he thinks, would be a sacrifice in a small village, but he suspects this isn't the case with Julie.

Perhaps she'll shrink it and add it to the shelf with her dragon and dinosaur afterwards. ]

[ Look, Julie will be one of the first to admit that it's an insane story that doesn't make any sense. But it's also ubiquitous, the largest religion in a planet of over seven billion people, and more or less shaped the entire atmosphere that Julie and Nadine grew up in, so it is what it is.

She scoffs loudly, putting food on plates because she is not a savage who just stands over tables, eating meat with her bare hands. ] No one is eatin' the lamb. I'll probably just turn that one loose in someone's domain, there's plenty of fields and pastoral shit around, but yes, we return rented animals to their owners. That's how rentin' anythin' works. You give it back at the end. Here, eat off plates, for God's sake.

[ Heaping plates are shoved toward both of them. Men. She doesn't put one together for herself, though, only picking up one of her grandmother's biscuits to nibble as she ladles herself a glass of punch (it's not jungle juice, though it is still mostly very strong alcohol). ] Anyway, Nativities are just a common tradition. Usually you have a little one for inside too, like on a table. Lil' figures for all the characters. When I was a kid, it was like playin' dolls when they'd tell me go set it up.

[Look, they don't come from a place where one rents an edible creature for decoration then returns it. It makes no bloody sense. If he's spending coin on a lamb, it better end up a roast at the end of the day.

He takes his plate with a huff back at her. Who cares about plates? They're all friends here. It's not even real!

He won't say it. For the moment. Unfortunately, the two of them are going to continue eating with their hands, either way, because that's simply how it's done. Cutlery is rarer than books, and Jaskier has only seen its use mostly at royal banquets. Besides, he has to tear up the bloody ham anyway.

It's quite good.]

I'm not questioning the utility of dolls for table decorations. It does look utterly lovely. And... you know, I don't think I've seen so much food in one place since I was moving in the courts.

[ Geralt takes the plate without complaint. There's food upon it, and he's easy. He feeds a bit of turkey to the wolf at his feet, a thoughtful expression on his face as he listens. Truthfully, he's largely here to keep Julie company more than anything—but he doesn't mind the stories, either. ]

Sounds more like Belleteyn. Birth, fertility. [ Miracle children born from a virgin woman is unique to Julie's tradition, but it is curious to him it's a tradition of the winter, when the lands are barren. Usually mythical stories of childbirth are saved for the spring. Harvest time and such. ] Yule has often been about the undead. They say the Wild Hunt brings its frost across the land when they ride through the skies.

[ Well. Some say. Myth, except not. Ever since Ciri told him, he believes her, but. He still isn't sure what to think. And Ciri herself seems so unwilling to talk about it, Geralt has only gently prodded her now and again.

Like Jaskier, he tears easily into his ham; nor does he hesitate to set a small slice of pie on Jaskier's plate, to take a roll in exchange—a thoughtless action. ]

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princessvegas - 2022-02-14 00:20 (UTC) - Expand