[Better! High praise, coming from Ciri. (He's not saying she got her sweet tooth from him, especially when he still isn't sure what his relationship with the girl was after they met, but... he likes to think it is. Because it's fun.)
Just in case it's food -- because his mind is on it now -- he spends his time tidying up the place while he waits for her. The kitchen is routinely rather clean, if only because of late he's been eating plenty of meals alone with the others moving in and out.
It isn't a terrible way to live. There's so many reminders that they are... a strange, disjointed little family.
He perks up when he hears the door, only to laugh at Ciri struggling in with a ridiculously large box.] What on earth is that? A coffin? [Okay, it's like a child's coffin, but --
He opens it. He hardly needs much prompting. A peek in through the box's open lid and he sees a shape as intimately familiar to him as the Countess de Stael's. A shape he coveted, and touched, and loved for years.
Jaskier takes the lute case from the box, speechless. His hand runs over it, the fingers already trembling at the tips. He finds the latches, taking a careful breath before he lifts the lid, as if the instrument may leap out and attack him. He knows, immediately, what this means. What those questions Ciri asked him weeks ago were about. As he should have known.
The lute inside is a work of art, with long, silver strings and a design made of inlaid pearl and gold filigree lining it. Jaskier sucks in a breath through his teeth, fingers laying across the strings. He follows them up to the neck, long and elegant -- longer, actually, than his previous lute. As he told he wanted to try to play one day, when he had the coin.]
no subject
Just in case it's food -- because his mind is on it now -- he spends his time tidying up the place while he waits for her. The kitchen is routinely rather clean, if only because of late he's been eating plenty of meals alone with the others moving in and out.
It isn't a terrible way to live. There's so many reminders that they are... a strange, disjointed little family.
He perks up when he hears the door, only to laugh at Ciri struggling in with a ridiculously large box.] What on earth is that? A coffin? [Okay, it's like a child's coffin, but --
He opens it. He hardly needs much prompting. A peek in through the box's open lid and he sees a shape as intimately familiar to him as the Countess de Stael's. A shape he coveted, and touched, and loved for years.
Jaskier takes the lute case from the box, speechless. His hand runs over it, the fingers already trembling at the tips. He finds the latches, taking a careful breath before he lifts the lid, as if the instrument may leap out and attack him. He knows, immediately, what this means. What those questions Ciri asked him weeks ago were about. As he should have known.
The lute inside is a work of art, with long, silver strings and a design made of inlaid pearl and gold filigree lining it. Jaskier sucks in a breath through his teeth, fingers laying across the strings. He follows them up to the neck, long and elegant -- longer, actually, than his previous lute. As he told he wanted to try to play one day, when he had the coin.]
Oh, Ciri... [He chokes up.] She's perfection.