cointosser: (076)
Jaskier "old-timey fuckboy" Alfred Pankratz ([personal profile] cointosser) wrote in [community profile] abraxaslogs 2022-04-19 07:36 am (UTC)

[It is with luck that Jaskier has a good deal of experience traveling through the Horizon. Though it does not perfectly suit him anymore, his caravan, he is still happy to take a ride on one his vampiric horses (thank you, Alucard) to explore those domains both new and old. The mountain of fire. Geralt's peaks of ice and snow. He enjoys long walks around the forest protecting Alucard's cabin (and the horses enjoy it as well) and trips to domains he once knew well: the duck-filled creek of Phoenix, or the dwelling of frost trolls with Jon.

They are empty now, or replaced with something else. As if their existence is erased.

But no matter now. His experience helps him pick apart the places Dean's place may rest, and he finds it eventually: a building set out similar to the tavern he once had, when he looks at it from far enough, but larger, with less smells of hearthsmoke (thank god.) The music is unfamiliar, reminding him of the music in Julie's club but softer, somehow -- it doesn't thump so demandingly through his ribs.

Hopefully Dean does not mind a horse with a slight thirst for blood tied up outside. Radu is a good boy, just a bit teethy.

As he steps inside, he lights a smile. Ah. So he was right! Well, of course he was.]


I can certainly say it's not an academy I've attended so far. [But excuse him, Dean, because the music is rather lovely in a strange, unfamiliar way, but he's also distracting himself with everything in here that's just as foreign. Lights burning without flames is common enough in Cadens, but it's things like lights lighting underneath bottles of every color. The long, smoothed counter of wood, so smooth it's like it's covered in wax. The smell of something heavy and deep having settled into the bar's very foundations.

And, of course, the wall that is lit up with moving images.]


I can feel the comfort in this place. [He runs his hand along the counter, tapping his rings against its surface. Perhaps their taverns are very different, but they are still unmistakable. And this is where he has always thrived. Where he has felt at home.] Where is the music coming from? Should you not have live music in such a lovely place?

[Suppose it was easy enough to have it magically playing from nowhere. Julie did the same.]

Post a comment in response:

This community only allows commenting by members. You may comment here if you're a member of abraxaslogs.
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
HTML doesn't work in the subject.
More info about formatting