[It is truly unfortunate (for everyone that Jaskier lives with) that he has learned nothing from Eifstide; he still has a penchant for wandering the streets at night. He attempts to be sneaky about it, but it is near-impossible to be sneaky around a Witcher and Ciri. But even should they stop him, he leaves their home behind, nothing but his journal and quill tucked into a bag.
Truthfully, he is not the man he was on Eifstide. A rather funny little thing to think, considering it was a mere month ago. And yet how long has he been here, listening to the petty battles between these kingdoms? The magic that was granted to him has only become stronger through use, and now he's... at least fifty percent sure he would be safe should Eifstide's raising of the dead repeat itself.
He pauses besides one of the taverns to pull his quill out, sketching a crow that has perched upon its fish-shaped sign. He turns his head at a rustling down between two buildings, cut into mostly darkness.
Is he nervous? Yes. Will that stop him from peeking his head in? Absolutely not.]
Hello? [He peeps, holding the journal open carefully so that the ink may dry. As he steps in further, an illusionary bird, its body translucent, appears in a flash of magic on his shoulder, lighting the alley up with the glow from its feathers.
Lighting upon a man. And a cat. And a bit of rubbish spread between them.]
Oh. You poor, pathetic thing.
[It's hard to say whether that is directed towards Castiel or the cat. Jaskier balances the journal on one hand, reaching into his bag with the other. The tip of his tongue sticks out of his mouth as he manages to untie his coin purse one-handed (a very rare talent, thank you), taking out a few coins. He holds them out for the hermit, insistent.] Here. At least get yourself a bit of ale and a pie, eh?
[Maybe a bit of lamb for the lad's feline. God knows Hector would not forgive him if he did not offer enough for the cat as well.]
City exploration
Truthfully, he is not the man he was on Eifstide. A rather funny little thing to think, considering it was a mere month ago. And yet how long has he been here, listening to the petty battles between these kingdoms? The magic that was granted to him has only become stronger through use, and now he's... at least fifty percent sure he would be safe should Eifstide's raising of the dead repeat itself.
He pauses besides one of the taverns to pull his quill out, sketching a crow that has perched upon its fish-shaped sign. He turns his head at a rustling down between two buildings, cut into mostly darkness.
Is he nervous? Yes. Will that stop him from peeking his head in? Absolutely not.]
Hello? [He peeps, holding the journal open carefully so that the ink may dry. As he steps in further, an illusionary bird, its body translucent, appears in a flash of magic on his shoulder, lighting the alley up with the glow from its feathers.
Lighting upon a man. And a cat. And a bit of rubbish spread between them.]
Oh. You poor, pathetic thing.
[It's hard to say whether that is directed towards Castiel or the cat. Jaskier balances the journal on one hand, reaching into his bag with the other. The tip of his tongue sticks out of his mouth as he manages to untie his coin purse one-handed (a very rare talent, thank you), taking out a few coins. He holds them out for the hermit, insistent.] Here. At least get yourself a bit of ale and a pie, eh?
[Maybe a bit of lamb for the lad's feline. God knows Hector would not forgive him if he did not offer enough for the cat as well.]