[Despite multiple warnings to do otherwise, Jaskier, of course, takes it upon himself to visit his friends. It is a bit funny in a way that Nadine is hardly the first to try to ward him off; now that he thinks of it, most of the people he calls friend now have attempted so. And yet! There he is, every time.
And if he is honest, if only to himself, he so badly desires company now. Where Geralt has gone to sulking alone after his plight -- perfectly suitable, considering his past -- Jaskier cannot find solace in being alone. He attempts it, to be fair. To shake himself of this terrible anxiety that has such a grip on his heart, even after his friend has returned, even after he has mostly been healed. He's been to the bathhouse of Cadens several times, stepped about in the desert and amused himself with flowers and shrubs. Yet none of it matches company, and this one, in particular, he seeks out because... well. He doesn't think Nadine should mind that he is not quite the chipper man he was before.
Yet, he's attempting to remember to be so. He wants to make an entrance, to find the ostentatious bard of a month ago, when he wasn't run ragged with worry and grief. He has to make an impression. So when Jaskier arrives to Nadine's domain, it is not on a horse like before. He is in fact on the back of a great gold bird, the colors of its feathers matching what Nadine's trees were once colored as. It gives a call like an eagle, the flaps of its wings sharp as it gently begins to lower near the edge of the town, following the curls of smoke in the air.
In his arms is a soft, teddy bear-like creature that is wiggling quite exuberantly, holding onto its hat with tiny claws. When the three land and Jaskier slides off the bird's back, the moogle begins floating with stray flaps of its bat wings, doing a twirl through the air as Jaskier smooths down the rich burgundies of his duvet, the furred collar of his cloak as white as wolf fur.]
Are you sure about this, Master Jaskier? There's already music playing! We're going to interrupt it, kupo.
Yes, yes. I can hear it. Be that as it may, Moglad, we're going to give her something much more exuberant, all right? It's all about the surprise. The...? [He waits for his apprentice to catch on.]
Showmanship!
Yes! There you are, lad. See? You've learned so much already.
[There's the faint sounds of bustling, and should Nadine decide to leave her cottage to investigate, she may be finding both bard and moogle equipped with lutes, singing a dueling duet together, with the shadowed, grey shades of musicians behind them.]
Horizon
And if he is honest, if only to himself, he so badly desires company now. Where Geralt has gone to sulking alone after his plight -- perfectly suitable, considering his past -- Jaskier cannot find solace in being alone. He attempts it, to be fair. To shake himself of this terrible anxiety that has such a grip on his heart, even after his friend has returned, even after he has mostly been healed. He's been to the bathhouse of Cadens several times, stepped about in the desert and amused himself with flowers and shrubs. Yet none of it matches company, and this one, in particular, he seeks out because... well. He doesn't think Nadine should mind that he is not quite the chipper man he was before.
Yet, he's attempting to remember to be so. He wants to make an entrance, to find the ostentatious bard of a month ago, when he wasn't run ragged with worry and grief. He has to make an impression. So when Jaskier arrives to Nadine's domain, it is not on a horse like before. He is in fact on the back of a great gold bird, the colors of its feathers matching what Nadine's trees were once colored as. It gives a call like an eagle, the flaps of its wings sharp as it gently begins to lower near the edge of the town, following the curls of smoke in the air.
In his arms is a soft, teddy bear-like creature that is wiggling quite exuberantly, holding onto its hat with tiny claws. When the three land and Jaskier slides off the bird's back, the moogle begins floating with stray flaps of its bat wings, doing a twirl through the air as Jaskier smooths down the rich burgundies of his duvet, the furred collar of his cloak as white as wolf fur.]
Are you sure about this, Master Jaskier? There's already music playing! We're going to interrupt it, kupo.
Yes, yes. I can hear it. Be that as it may, Moglad, we're going to give her something much more exuberant, all right? It's all about the surprise. The...? [He waits for his apprentice to catch on.]
Showmanship!
Yes! There you are, lad. See? You've learned so much already.
[There's the faint sounds of bustling, and should Nadine decide to leave her cottage to investigate, she may be finding both bard and moogle equipped with lutes, singing a dueling duet together, with the shadowed, grey shades of musicians behind them.]