[Somehow, that surprises Jaskier. Geralt? Assuming, before anything else, that he was competent? My, how a few weeks away can change a man.
But all he does outwardly is huff.]
No. And don't make me sound like a fool for not realizing sooner, that these things I do, these impossibilities, are mine and mine alone.
[Why would he ever assume himself capable of them? Magic is not his to bear, and it is, and -- fuck, he's turning into a mess. As the breeze blows, the stray hairs loose from the tie he's had them in wriggle across his face. He scratches his nose, sharply annoyed by them.]
I haven't studied for weeks. Everything I write's been shite, barely fit to burn. So I make bread, and I grow these little flowers, and I stop things from winding towards the inevitable death and decay they are meant to.
[He isn't sure what he's saying, or if it has any meaning at all. Jaskier is a boat adrift in unfamiliar waters, seeing new sights... and the boat is very upset about it all.
His throat tightens. His fingers rub harder, the nails clipping into his skin. He wishes he only brought him here to show off flowers and berries.] I need a new hobby. Perhaps there's a spell to commune with the plants, next, that I may study. Or turn into a dragon. Everyone around here is so keen on turning into dragons.
no subject
But all he does outwardly is huff.]
No. And don't make me sound like a fool for not realizing sooner, that these things I do, these impossibilities, are mine and mine alone.
[Why would he ever assume himself capable of them? Magic is not his to bear, and it is, and -- fuck, he's turning into a mess. As the breeze blows, the stray hairs loose from the tie he's had them in wriggle across his face. He scratches his nose, sharply annoyed by them.]
I haven't studied for weeks. Everything I write's been shite, barely fit to burn. So I make bread, and I grow these little flowers, and I stop things from winding towards the inevitable death and decay they are meant to.
[He isn't sure what he's saying, or if it has any meaning at all. Jaskier is a boat adrift in unfamiliar waters, seeing new sights... and the boat is very upset about it all.
His throat tightens. His fingers rub harder, the nails clipping into his skin. He wishes he only brought him here to show off flowers and berries.] I need a new hobby. Perhaps there's a spell to commune with the plants, next, that I may study. Or turn into a dragon. Everyone around here is so keen on turning into dragons.