abraxaslogs | Open December Catchall

Entry tags:

Open December Catchall

WHO: Nadine and OPEN
WHAT: Horizon and Nott catchall for the month
WHEN: December
WHERE: Nott and The Horizon
WARNINGS: Will add as needed!

Nott

When not working - and with the weather turning, she's working more hours - Nadine can be found in the common room of the inn with a warm drink and a book, or at the lake's edge with a basket and heavy boots and cloak, gathering ingredients for the herbalist she works for, or behind the inn practicing with her fire magic. And of course she can be found at Nan Maeda's Tonics and Tinctures, the herbalist healer's shop where she's found employment. She mostly collects and prepares ingredients for her elderly employer, but she's learning and that's as important as the money.

Horizon

With the coming of the cold months, Nadine's domain reflects the season. Gone are the autumn leaves and the blue skies, snow covering the little slice of New England town that she's created for herself. The sky is overcast and white string lights and garlands have begun appearing. There's a towering Christmas tree in the square in front of the white wooden church, and the shop windows have old fashioned holiday displays in them. It bears a striking resemblance to something Norman Rockwell would have painted.

Nadine herself is often in the square, at the gazebo by the skeletal carousel, or in her own little cottage at the edge of 'town'. Easily identified as hers, as it's the only home with a shoveled walk and puffs of smoke coming out of the chimney. Sometimes the smell of baking or sound of music wafts out...

(Specific starters in comments, hit me up if you'd like one!)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Once Nadine opens the door and steps outside, Jaskier raises his head and gives her the classiest wink one bard is capable of. The moogle spins and his tiny claws pluck the lute like he means to tear it apart... which is oddly nearly identical to how Jaskier is playing it with absolute ablomb.

It's not the reaction he wants, seeing her face, but it's also not terrible. It is only neutral enough that he continues the song through to its end, and the shades behind them go away. The giant gold bird, on the other hand, gives an appreciative trumpet of a sound.

His face drops a little.] A what? [And a who? Excuse you. He is not a Peter, whoever that is -- a frankly boring name if you ask him. He is The Lady Gaga. Of the Continent. Moglad's wings flutter frantically as he tips his head to the side. Did she not like it? he asks, and seems very invested in the answer.]

Oh, I'm sure she's simply stunned. That's all. [He responds quietly to the moogle, before turning back to Nadine with a smile, holding an arm up.] Hello again, my dear! You look as ravishing as ever.

Hi.

[Nadine is fighting a smile. This kind of thing probably shouldn't be encouraged...but for God's sake, there's something so honestly earnest about Jaskier and all of this that she can't help herself.]

That was...I'm speechless, Jaskier.

[All she can do is clap, for him and his....friend? Words are failing her. 'Stunned' is a very good word for what she is. This feels practically unreal.]

I can honestly say that no one has ever come to my house to serenade me before. I didn't think real people even did things like this.

[It was the stuff of television shows and teen romance books, an idealized and wholly fictionalized version of human behavior. Hyperbolic to illustrate concepts and ideas. But here he was, in the flesh - sort of - and Nadine can tell there's not a scrap of irony in any of the presentation. This is just Jaskier.]

[His smile in response is charming and very much the equivalent of a peacock spreading its tail. And flattered, of course. Moglad twirls through the air in victory, strumming his miniature lute. Both bard and bard apprentice give a bow, and with a pat on his bird’s side, the two follow the path to her front door.]<

What! Never? Then it’s very good I did it. I can assure you I am both real — relatively speaking — and it is not my first time doing so. It’s simply special now, doing it for a friend.

[Moglad isn’t real but he’s not bothered by the fact, either. He gives a little wave to Nadine, blowing a kiss after.]

Before he makes a nuisance of himself, let me introduce my apprentice, Moglad. He’s well on his way to becoming the best bard of the Horizon.

[The moogle flushes, giving Nadine a bow as he hovers in the air, with a Charmed to meet you, kupo!] I hope we’re not interrupting anything, but I did so want to surprise you.

You definitely surprised me.

[She inclines her head as the 'apprentice' is introduced, still not entirely sure what it is.]

And you're both very talented.

[Befuddled as she is by all of this, she can certainly recognize that Jaskier has a lovely singing voice. Nadine tucks an errant strand of hair back behind her ear, still standing in the doorway of her cottage. She knows she should offer an invitation to come inside, but it isn't something that comes easily. It's her private space, not somewhere she's let anyone into. Julie and Lloyd are welcome, of course, they're family. And Susan or Amos likely wouldn't be turned away at the door....

It's ridiculous, that she's gone to bed with the man but she's not sure about inviting him into her home. Compromising for the moment, she takes a step back, making more room for Jaskier to join her.]

To what do I owe the pleasure?

[Moglad is very bashful indeed with his new, sudden praise, his body trembling from the force of it. He flutters back a bit, clinging to his lute, and then eventually goes to hide behind the giant bird, which has sort of tucked into itself and sat upon the ground.

Well. He's not quite ready for the spotlight yet.]

Only for a visit to your lovely estate. [And though he glances behind her, he remains at the door. Despite his forced exuberance (and hopefully it does not appear so very forced), he did not miss that she was reluctant to move herself.

After all, a gentleman does not invite himself in.] The touch of frost attracted me. Though I suspect we are quickly approaching winter, Cadens does not reflect it. And truthfully, I miss it. [So he takes a step back, in turn, creating an impasse between this.] Would you care for a walk through it? I have... a lot of things to say to you. If you're in the mood to hear them.

[He doesn't mean for it to sound very ominous. It's simply... seeing her, in the quiet simplicity of this place, brings to mind how much she did for his friend. It is, in fact, the real reason he's here, even if he's loathe to think about it at all.]

I always liked winters in New Hampshire. The nor'easters would bring so much snow...those are storms that come in off the ocean in the north east.

[Nadine watches him curiously for a moment. Normally she'd assume that implies a need to talk about her or 'them' in some sense. But she doesn't get that. Despite Jaskier's tone, something about his choice of words implies a seriousness. The need for a sympathetic ear, maybe. Why he'd come to her...well. She is a good listener, and prefers to talk about other people as opposed to herself.]

Just let me get a coat and hat.

[She retreats into the cozy little kitchen of her cottage - one of only three downstairs rooms - and leaves the door for Jaskier to step inside if he'd like.]

The farmland's really nice with the snow. It's a pretty walk out there.

[She talks as she pulls on her coat and hat and pulls on a pair of matching boots. She looks particularly a part of this place right now, all in white with her white hair loose.]

[Okay, maybe "a lot" was too much, but he feels it's important enough to be spoken in person in the only way he is able. Of course, Jaskier is also very talented in making a few necessary words whole paragraphs that no one asked for, which is surely to be the case here, too.]

Why, of course. [Honestly, he does peek in, taking a step that shifts the air from freezing cold to a dry balm. Though the cottage contains some things he doesn't recognize, it is unmistakably as warm, the very form invoking that feeling of coziness. He pulls his cloak around him and the hood over his head, though the very nature of the Horizon itself would likely make it so such clothes are unnecessary.

Apparently the two of them take comfort in pretending.

In a world devoid of life, he wonders what animal provided the fur -- or what she imagines it to be -- for her coat. He can't help but think of a white wolf. Or those white winter rabbits. The style is quite unlike the ladies of his sphere, but it's flattering. It suits her. All that white pales her out; she becomes a spectre in the snow. Perhaps a noonwraith. A striking vision.]

Beautiful, indeed. [He smiles and, as they step out of the cottage, he offers an arm. It needn't be taken, of course.] What was it you were listening to? Before I interrupted.

[His tone indicates he feels no remorse for it.]

[After a moment's contemplation, Nadine takes the offered arm. Why not? He'd shown up and sang on her lawn. And besides, there's something enticing about strolling arm in arm along the snowy street with a handsome man.]

Oh, I had Christmas carols on. It's a winter holiday in my world...that's what all the lights are for.

[She waves her free hand at the strung lights up and down the street leading into 'town'. Instead of following it that way, she steers them away from town, to the rolling farmlands and the woods.]

It's half religious and half not. But there are some beautiful songs written for it. I like the old traditional ones. The Holly and the Ivy, In the Bleak Midwinter, Emmanuel...

[The ones from olden times, that had weight and meaning to them. And considering what Jaskier had serenaded her with, he might appreciate them. 'Modern' music must sound so strange to him...]

It meant a lot to me, when I was little.

[Her acceptance warms his smile further. Their arms fit together perfectly, offering a hint more warmth that a coat or a cloak can provide.] Christmas? Never heard of it, but. You know, going by the lights and the snow -- our lights are simply lanterns, of course -- it sounds a bit like Yule.

[The lights are as marvel to him as the music that came from nowhere. They look like tiny, colored flames, but they clearly aren't. There's no flickers, no shadows. They remain steady and bright.

Until she leads them away from the trail. He doesn't mind. There's still light to see, and it allows himself take a look at her beside him. Catching the way light moves across her horns.

He remembers holding onto them.]

A shame I don't know them, or I might've impressed you with that instead. [Though, like with Estinien, the idea comes. Of course he means to absorb music from other spheres when he can, when the others are willing. What other bard on the Continent could ever claim to hear music from such far away places?] Can you play one? Perhaps I can give a live performance. I have a rather good memory when it comes to song.

[Personally, he thinks he'll sing them better, and it would be enough to give her something that... means a lot. A sort of payment, in a way, for what he still means to talk with her about.]

It is sort of like Yule, if your Yule is the same as ours. But we think of Yule as an ancient holiday that's not really celebrated anymore. It's honestly a little complicated, but I'll give you the quick rundown. More than a thousand years ago a new religion started getting really popular. Christianity, that's how I was raised, actually. The belief is that there's one God, and He sent his only son, Jesus Christ, to be born of a human woman to save mankind from darkness. And while Jesus wasn't actually born on Christmas, we celebrate his birth that day. But also with a lot of traditions that held over from Yule, like the lights and the tree and the time of year we celebrate.

[It's all a mashed together hodgepodge of existing customs and religion, and the details of how holidays were taken and changed is on the depressing side and doesn't need to be explored right now.]

I grew up in a pretty heavily religious environment, so my Christmases when I was a kid were all about the Jesus part. But a lot of people don't celebrate it that way, they just celebrate the peace and goodwill to man part, and Santa Claus. Who's not a religious figure, he's like...a fairy tale magic guy. Who visits houses on Christmas Eve night to bring presents and goodies, and he wears a red and white fur trimmed suit with a hat and has flying reindeer.

[It all sounds a little like madness, just laid out like this. And this isn't what she'd thought they'd be talking about on their walking-out excursion, but Nadine doesn't mind. Even if talking about it is bringing up some of her own self-doubts and concerns about the state of her own soul.

She glances over at Jaskier then, eyebrows raising in curiosity.]

You want to hear a Christmas carol? Okay...yeah, I can do that.

[She'd sang in church as a little girl often. They all seem to flee her mind in the moment, as it so often goes, but she holds on to one that had always spoken to her as a child.]

Alright, this was my favorite when I was a kid. Something about it...I don't know, it just spoke to me. Things seem really simple, when you're a kid. It's called In The Bleak Midwinter.

[It doesn't occur to Nadine to just create a radio or music player to listen to, in the moment, so she clears her throat and shares a song of her own as they walk through the snow.]

[He purses his lips. Oh. Ouch. "Ancient." Yes, yes, he gets it. Their sphere, apparently, is a bit old-timey. However, he listens quite intently, spinning the rings on his fingers as their boots crunch through the snow in an even, steady rhythm. The snow, as it does, makes the quiet pillowed around them. Blanketed. It pulls up on every side and makes her voice feel louder, and yet all the more private for it.

Not that it's a private conversation. It's only holidays. A rather bizarre, busy-sounding holiday, but he supposes traditions from other spheres will sound that way to him. Besides, half the holidays that spread across the Continent were taken from elves, anyway.]

Complicated? Hardly. It's a large, cold nameday party with, er, a magic man included. All right, you lost me with the reindeer part. A hardy meal at the end of it all, I imagine?

[Look. Reindeer was good, when one could actually acquire it.

At her question, he nods eagerly.] Of course.

[Luckily, she's far more easily indulging him than most. He bites back any commentary he may make that a child's favorite song should be something called Bleak Midwinter, but "Nadine" and "bleak" are certainly two words that fit together rather easily.

Now it feels far more private. He closes his eyes as they walk, sure Horizon magic will ensure he doesn't trip onto his ass, so he can more concentrate on the words. Certainly bleak is a good descriptor. It paints a picture of something that is... well, terribly depressing, if you ask him, but Nadine's voice is a surprisingly soft mezzo-soprano, which does not so much echo as it takes in the silence from the snow around it. It's beautiful. And he's hardly the first to compliment other performers.

Jaskier opens his eyes when it's all done, at least hanging on to a bit of it. (And look, no tripping!) Before he plays it back, of course, he must ask.]

I cannot help but wonder where a child learns such a... song. Religion deep in its bones and a bit too slow to be any sort of helpful working song. And, gods, no peasant is coming up with that imagery. Something that should be ringing in some hallowed temples, I should think?

[Oooh, temples. So not his scene. But he can appreciate the makings of a fine tune, either way, whether it was written by priestess or poet.]

Oh my god, Jaskier, no one eats the reindeer, they pull Santa's sleigh through the sky so he can deliver presents. Look that part is...weird.

[Says the woman who just shared a song about the very unlikely circumstances of Jesus' birth. But the Santa stuff, that gets really bizarre when you examine it deeply.

But it's easier to comment on that right now than anything else. Memories are coming to her, of Christmas Mass and the smell of incense and candles. The songs in Latin, the ancient hymns... She shakes her head, looking away. There's a light prickling in the corner of her eyes and an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.]

I told you, I was raised in religion. Literally, for half of my childhood I was raised by nuns - women devoted to God and a religious life. We don't have temples, we have churches. Like the one in the middle of town, that white building with the steeple. But it's about the birth of Christ, and how He loves everyone who opens their heart to Him, no matter if they're rich or poor or how they've lived their life, you don't even need churches or priests, just...love in your heart for God. And God would protect and save you. And that was beautiful and important to me, when I was little.

[Now...well, she can't imagine God loves her anymore. There are some things that a person just can't come back from, she knows that. And it hadn't been God that saved her, when she was young. It has been the other.]

But it was actually written as a poem, originally, by just a woman who loved God. She wasn't a nun or anything, but her faith moved her to write something beautiful.

Weird? [That feels a bit generous.

He decides not to banter over the differences to temples and churches, which are about the same to him; it's all comes down to money and who wishes to claim it. Certainly the Cult of the Lionhead Spider is rather out of the running for a right proper church.

His brows raise as he listens. Wait, raised by nuns? Then... an orphan? A girl with no family?

It's too early to say. His fingers play with his rings as they walk, judging what she tells him now with what she told him then.] And I imagine you truly believed, then, if it was so important to you. [He was whisked away far too quickly to private studies, to the academies, then onwards to Oxenfurt, nestled in science and the liberal arts, to find any solid attachment to religion. He has plenty inspiration outside their... unique influences. And so here, now, he hears a new sort of viewpoint. A life far different from his own.

And yet, still incredibly lonely.] Did he ever speak to you, your God, this... this Christ? I've heard it's not such a rare occurrence, when one dissolves into belief. [He pauses. God would protect and save you.]] What, as a child, did you think you needed saving from?

[He imagined it wasn't as simple as a drowner infestation. A wild basilisk. Or a plague, quite yet.]

Little kids believe pretty much anything they're told. It was just part of life, for me. I was either in the children's home with nuns or with families attached to the church. And honestly at this point, it's not even about belief or faith.

[Nadine has seen the evidence of both God and the Other. She wraps her coat a little more snugly around her, looking downwards. 'Did he ever speak to you, your God? What a loaded question.]

God did talk to me, once. Sort of. Not when I was a kid, though. It was after the end of the world, there was...I don't even know what to call her. A prophet, a holy messenger, God's avatar amongst humanity, I don't know. But God worked through her. I, uh, I had already strayed from the faith, though. I don't...it's complicated. But God and I aren't on speaking terms anymore, really.

[It occurs to her now that she's probably already let the cat out of the bag, so to speak. Jaskier knows enough to start putting pieces together.]

And I just had a lousy childhood. Didn't you want to talk to me about something?

[How had they ended up talking about her like this?]

[Well. That sort of seals it, doesn't it?

He does not, of course, have a single idea what this new knowledge might lend him. He recalls her story very well; it's a rare gift that he even so much as meets another storyteller, let alone one who can share it with talent. A magic man came to her in her dreams. Surely she does not mean the same magic man with the deer. There's a lot of magic men in her belief system, aren't there?

Of course, if her story is to be believed, the magic man -- sans reindeer or no -- is not the terrible part of it. It's her debasement. Her... how she put it? She didn't use the term, but "sins" seems appropriate, with what she's already told him today.

The revelation's completely thrown him off why he even came to her today. This is -- oof. This is a lot.]

Er. Right. I did. [How does one say but your lousy childhood is far more fucking fascinating, and hello, can we talk about the demon thing? He clears his throat as if buying some time, weighing out whether he really wants to push the matter or not.

But about the whole queen thing --]

My intention was rather simple, actually. I only meant to come and, well... to thank you, very earnestly, for what you did for my friend. For Geralt. Considering it sounds about as if you and Julie saved his life, I...

[He chokes up, embarrassingly, as he tends to do when the very real and too-close idea of Geralt dying comes up. Look, he knows what he is. The Witcher life. Being put down like a dog in a cage is not a dignified death.

This is why he'd much rather talk about someone else's trauma. The sound of his own shuddering breaths is hideous.] At any rate, I needn't have a clue how to repay you, so an impromptu performance and a walk through the snow is one way to start.

Hey...hey.

[Oh this is not expected. The thanks or Jaskier's sudden emotional shift. Nadine halts in the road, farmland looming ahead and fields on either side of them. She turns to stand in front of him and reaches out to take him by the shoulders, looking up into his eyes earnestly.]

It's okay, Jaskier, you don't owe me anything. I did what...I'd like to think anyone with any ounce of compassion would do. It's not even the first time I've done something like that. It's...it's fine, really.

[This big a deal doesn't need to be made. Nadine had nothing extraordinary. She hadn't even been able to do much besides stitch Geralt up and keep his pain levels down. He'd still left Nott in poor shape. It certainly didn't warrant all of this.

What else would they have done? Just left him to die? He wasn't some stranger. Geralt was...a friend, of sorts. The concept of having friends is still novel to Nadine, not something she's used to. But the word fits well enough.]

I mean it. I was happy to do it.

[Oh, gods, he's being comforted about this, and it's all the worse for it. Not that he certainly misses the motherly vibes that come off of Nadine -- that's about the only type who can stand working on Geralt, he assumes -- it's simply. It's been a lot, lately, the last month. A lot.

Her proclamation nearly perfectly mirrors Julie's, making him sort of laugh-sob. Oh, for the gods's sake. They really don't get it. He shakes his head, giving his cheeks a good smack. See? He's fine. The rosy tint is simply from the smack.]

Yes, well, Julie said the same, but it's simply -- [He gestures, sort of rolling his hands through the air, with nothing else to do with them.] It's hard to explain, that he is simply not often treated like a person. Of course, my songs have surely helped that through time, as long as I've known him, but there's plenty that -- you know, they don't greet Witchers with compassion. In fact, I would say compassion is in short supply on the Continent. And everywhere else.

[And he feels it's worth speaking of if Nadine, by her own admission, was so eager to become... well, whatever her Santa Claus/Jesus Christ magic man is, or was, or if she has changed to be the same at all.]

I'm glad. To hear it, I mean. [It's not even entirely about her helping him. Perhaps it's the snow, the idyllic atmosphere; it has pinged the softened sentimentality in him, and now his emotions are demanding release after a month of being tamped down. Not, that he thinks, she should be subject to their release.] At any rate, I've said my piece, though I see why you were so eager to change the subject. Even after all these years, bearing one's heart is as difficult as ever.

Compassion's generally in short supply everywhere.

[Nadine reaches out to catch Jaskier's hands in hers, to give them a comforting squeeze and try and ground him. This, at least, is something she can handle. Comforting someone in distress.]

Besides, it's not like Geralt is some stranger. I've known him longer than I've known you. Hell, he's one of my favorite people because he never pries or asks a lot of questions I don't want to answer. But aside from that...me and mine, we're outsiders. We always have been, so we know what it's like not to be treated right. To live on the outside of society. So it's not that big a deal that we treat others like us in similar situations. Like calls to like.

[It really is easier to deal with someone else's emotions than one's own. As surprising and mildly uncomfortable as Jaskier's emotional display is, it's something to focus on and move the spotlight off of her.]

I know Julie has a lot of sharp edges, and I'm....how I am. [She can only sigh and shake her head, her own social faults too many to easily sum up.] But we care about the people and things that matter to us. A lot of things don't matter to me, but...some things do.

[Oof. It's terrible pessimism, but it isn't wrong.

He stops and looks at her, meeting her eyes, hands warmed by the touch. It does help. He has always been the sort to respond well to touch, even if it is sometimes few and far between that he receives it.

At that, he smiles. It's very meaningful to him, even after all this time, that people like Geralt. And that he could be anyone's favorite person, or even one of them -- such a thing, even a decade ago, would've felt impossible.]

You're right. Like calls to like. [He balks, though, at her description. That she still thinks of herself as... he's not even sure. Dangerous? Unlikable? Perhaps she is dangerous, in a way he doesn't understand, but why should it matter when she's yet to hurt him? And, gods. He's met plenty of depressing sorts. He wouldn't even really count her among them.]

You are not a monster, you know. Of course there's things you love. People, even. [And then suddenly, he sort of laughs. Sort of. It's a bit raw, but it's -- it's real.] Wait, are you saying I pry and ask too many questions? I can't believe it. No one has ever told me this in my life.

[She may not even have meant him, but if she did... well, she's right. It's a problem. A problem he's never intended to fix, really.]

Mmm.

[Nadine sighs, but it's not irritated or upset. There's actually a touch of amused to it, and she smiles and doesn't let go of his hands. It really isn't fair to him, how much she's kept to herself. But there's been that fear, that he'll be horrified. That he really will leave and much as she makes a fuss...she doesn't want that. He's good to her. There've been so few people in her life who've been good to her...]

I kind of am, Jaskier. Just...a more benign monster than most, I guess. I'm not trying to push you away, I'm being honest. I am what I am. And you should know what I am, because...I do kind of like you coming around. Even if you ask too many questions.

[And there's probably no harm in it. Randall's gone, has been now for months. Is she supposed to keep living like a cloistered nun? No friends, no comfort in human kindness, denying herself any sort of filled life? She doesn't want to go back to that. And besides, there are practical reasons, should she ever need to justify herself.

Her eyes pull away from Jaskier's for a moment, looking down the road at a red, snow covered barn just down the way.]

Come on, let's get out of the cold.

Oh, I very much understand you're being honest. You'd have to cut out my eyes and ears for me to be able to miss all the warning signs you've hinted towards. [He smiles, turning his hands over to squeeze hers in turn. Believe him, he knows what being pushed away feels like.

It feels like a punch in the gut. Because it is, literally. Ask him how he knows.]

I appreciate hearing it, either way. I had no intentions of stopping, even if you didn't like it. [He pauses.] All right, so I'd be less inclined to keep doing it, but I rarely stop myself from terrible ideas ever.

[He follows her gaze, inclining his head as they separate once again. As if he minds. The cold here is still quite cold, and their fingertips are points of ice now, his ears gone red.] Of course. Lead on. [There is a peaceful quiet that falls again, padded by the snow, only punctuated by the crunching of boots upon it.

He really, really has to ask.

As he said, he rarely stops himself.]

So are you a queen?

[He just had to ask, didn't he?

Nadine is quiet at first, considering. In a way, it's an easy out to just answer him. Clear it all up here and now. He should know more than what he does. She stops a few steps from the barn door, not quite looking at him, snow beginning to fall from the skies that forever threaten to.

It isn't as though she can keep all of herself a secret forever. If it changes things, it changes things. She already feels a little like she's using Jaskier, continuing to accept his companionship and entertain ideas of being closer without telling him things he should know only deepens that feeling.]

Of a place I've never been, and probably never will. [Another sigh, this one not amused at all.] I was actually taken from my wedding night. When I was brought here. I am married, I have been for...half a year. He's not here anymore. Obviously.

[She makes a vague gesture towards Jaskier. None of this would be happening if Randall were still here. For multiple reasons.

The words both weigh on her chest as she says them, and in some way lighten a burden. It's hard to realize how much keeping something in can be a burden. But Nadine's always kept almost everything inside.]

But everything I told you is true. I'm not just some sad, quiet girl from a dead world. I'm...I honestly don't even know what I am, at this point. I just know what I'm not.

[Very mysterious. It is rather nice she's no longer ignoring that which story was the truthful one is quite obvious now. It's a lot, of course, but... if he thinks of him as a demon, or what they understand demons to be, it makes quite a bit of sense.

Except the whole marrying part. That's a bit off.]

S'not really the first husband I've --

[He clears his throat. I mean. It's definitely far from the first husband he's cucked. But he doesn't do that nowadays. As... as often. Look, Julie said she needed fun, Nadine had agreed, and it was fun. That's enough for him. Even if, apparently, her husband had been on this world. At some point.

Boo on him. That's what he gets for leaving! And, apparently, taking terrible care of such a lovely woman.]

Why, you're Nadine Cross, storyteller extraordinaire. A spreader of education. Appreciative of the quiet beauty of snow and music. Though I don't think you need anyone telling you who you are. [He leans back against the barn door, flicking snow from his hanging bangs.] If that's what you were afraid would drive me off, then I am happy to disappoint. Now that you're free, you have all the time in the world to decide who, or what, you want to be. Hardly anything wrong with a bit of self-discovery.

[Nadine's just going to let that first comment pass. Jaskier likely wouldn't be so cavalier if he knew any particulars about Randall. But he's had enough dropped on him for now.]

That's very sweet, but I wasn't talking poetically or figuratively. I mean that I literally don't know what I am anymore. I have horns, Jaskier, and I've spent a lot of time with dark magic. And I know I...have certain potentials that other people don't. My marriage changed me.

[Randall had changed her. She doesn't know how much, beyond what she'd asked for, but she feels like there's more. Sharing his bed, sharing his life - to as much an extent as anyone could - can't possibly come without some sort of price. She's seen his true face. Felt him.

She could argue his other point, too. She isn't sure she's free, or if she even really wants to be. She still loves Randall, misses him, feels his absence like an ache inside of her. Like some vital part of her is gone. That little part of her that could always feel him is silent and empty. She'd given up so much, done so much to have him and all that he promised her. Part of her still wants that, wants what she'd bought and paid for and waited for most of her life. And part of her hates that, hates that she can love a monster as deeply as she does.

It's not self discovery she feels like she needs, it's self reconciliation.]

That's more what I figured would probably scare you off.

You know, this keeps happening to me. People being so literal about these things. [It's getting to be a little embarrassing, and this is coming from someone who finds every opportunity to be poetic.]

He... changed you. Literally.

[His fingers rub together, not so much because the tips are cold but that it's a long become a sort of tick.] Into some sort of... demon queen?

[It's not making fun. She did attempt to explain demons to him, that they're not the demons he knows (a bit) about. Obviously it does not have a positive connotation on her sphere, either. Do they have horns? Honestly, he doesn't think the horns are all that bad. He also is now realizing she has the horns, like, out there.

Okay. Understandable.]

And a part of you misses him, I imagine. [It's a guess, because she hasn't exactly spoken badly of him, the demon king.] Because you love him. [His fingers fold together. Judging by her story, of course, but also by her tone. He thinks it through and, sure, it's a lot to take, but gods, everyone here has some sort of fucked up story, don't they? To her credit, even, it sounds like a song he would sing. A terrible, tragic tale... because if she was a girl, and he convinced her of all this, did she truly ever have a chance?

Jaskier is quiet when he answers, his lip twitching into something like a smile.] I don't mean this poetically. [Or as a reassurance, or even as a defense of the unholy things -- her words -- that she has done. Instead, it is an attempt to settle himself in her shoes. To understand what this life would be like. Lonely, disconnected... and then, one day, fate springs forth a lifeline.] You're hardly the first to fall in love with a monster.

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