[He finally smiles, an edge of a thing. Coats. Yeah. It's a good suggestion.
Jaskier could use some coats. In 800 years retail therapy will be invented, but at least he can indulge in it now without having learned the term. Hats, and coats, and perhaps some sort of nice ring. He's already taken to wearing the ring he'd bought to give Hector on a chain now mostly out of... well, a reminder.
Sorry, Alucard. He can't not think of Hector. Like this: thinking that if he'd had someone like Hector around, these things simply would not have happened to him.
Jaskier snorts, and finally he digs into the food. It's good and, for whatever reason, his appetite seems to increase the more he unburdens himself. Alucard is easy company when it's about himself, funny enough. There doesn't feel like judgement. Not that he'd be bothered by it much, but --]
No, he gives terrible advice. Or lofty quotations he heard or read somewhere. He's not wrong often, which is infuriating, but the delivery is always poor.
Oh. Right. Like, twenty? Twenty is terribly young. It's only brain makes vampires = age. At least he hadn't met any new vampires. It probably would have gone as badly as the new mages in his life.]
All right, I get your point. I need... a project. [With a sigh, he feeds the swallow a bit of onion. Or. Wait, is onion poisonous to birds? Has he read that somewhere? Or was it dogs? Suppose it doesn't matter. He's not even sure the birds he makes can die.
Birds. The Sandpiper. A project.
A small idea is brewing.] Something meaningful. Deeply, tragically meaningful. It has to be, or it isn't consuming enough for me.
no subject
Jaskier could use some coats. In 800 years retail therapy will be invented, but at least he can indulge in it now without having learned the term. Hats, and coats, and perhaps some sort of nice ring. He's already taken to wearing the ring he'd bought to give Hector on a chain now mostly out of... well, a reminder.
Sorry, Alucard. He can't not think of Hector. Like this: thinking that if he'd had someone like Hector around, these things simply would not have happened to him.
Jaskier snorts, and finally he digs into the food. It's good and, for whatever reason, his appetite seems to increase the more he unburdens himself. Alucard is easy company when it's about himself, funny enough. There doesn't feel like judgement. Not that he'd be bothered by it much, but --]
No, he gives terrible advice. Or lofty quotations he heard or read somewhere. He's not wrong often, which is infuriating, but the delivery is always poor.
Oh. Right. Like, twenty? Twenty is terribly young. It's only brain makes vampires = age. At least he hadn't met any new vampires. It probably would have gone as badly as the new mages in his life.]
All right, I get your point. I need... a project. [With a sigh, he feeds the swallow a bit of onion. Or. Wait, is onion poisonous to birds? Has he read that somewhere? Or was it dogs? Suppose it doesn't matter. He's not even sure the birds he makes can die.
Birds. The Sandpiper. A project.
A small idea is brewing.] Something meaningful. Deeply, tragically meaningful. It has to be, or it isn't consuming enough for me.