[open] a fantastic public charity event!

[cointosser]

Who: Jaskier, open to all of the Free Cities!
What: The bard is holding a concert at Cadens's Old Public Hall in order to raise money for its renovation!
Where: Cadens
When: The end of March, a bit after the eclipse/Singularity event shenanigans
Warnings: None. This is a family-friendly event. :)

The Event

[Flyers hand-written and posted around the city of Cadens promise many a thing: a lovely night of community and belonging, beautiful decorations, a precious place to bring your bonnie sweet (the most important.) Jaskier fully intends on this being the perfect date night; the more lovers who become closer thanks to him, the better. The hall will see a larger audience than it ever has before! And hopefully more money will be thrown at it than ever before.

Of course, that’s what this is: a charity concert being held to raise funds for the old Cadens speaking hall, a large hall that has long fallen into disrepair. Through the efforts of Jaskier (and mostly) Alucard, restoration of the hall has begun. However, it has far more renovations ahead of it, and coin will be needed.

The concert is meant to be a grand time, but, it is about the money. This is a charity event, technically. But there's no reason he can't have fun with it.

And since Jaskier does nothing by halves, he has gone fully all-out. At the concert, any goers will be free to partake in:

+ free food (courtesy of himself, Alucard, and Sam's cooking, generally fresh bread, rolls, sweets, cheeses, and various finger foods and slices of roasts)
+ free wine and local juices (mostly paid out of Jaskier's pocket)
+ flowers will be given out, though it is STRONGLY IMPLIED a donation is expected (bouquets can be purchased for your honey, as well)
+ Nadine will be going around the crowd and providing small samples of tonics and potions

There will also be a small raffle that Jaskier will be running. Tickets can be bought for a small fee, and ticket holders can win small prizes of bouquets (courtesy of yours truly), a box of fresh pastries from the local bakery, an array of prized feathers from his pet toy gryphon, or a slightly fancier bottle of wine. The ultimate prize will be a free song written personally for you by Jaskier, all topics and requests accepted. Yes, it is a grand prize. For the small prizes, you can decide whether your ticket is a winner or a loser!

Please, remember to keep your behaviors amenable, fair citizens of Cadens. This concert is for charity, and no roughhousing, fighting, or generally ill tempers will be suffered. And as an event on city property, it is meant to remain completely neutral. No politics or you'll be kindly escorted outside the event!]

The Old Public Hall



[The Cadens Public Hall is an old, large speaking hall hosting distinctive architectural features that are strongly Thornean in influence. Like the old days, the concert is mostly meant to be standing-room only; the second floor mezzanine has been blocked off due to unsafe conditions (mostly old, rotting floorboards.) There's a slight musty smell that lingers despite Jaskier's best efforts to hide it.

His attempts to hide it are vast in number: every where one looks are richly colorful groupings of flowers, tied to pillars, hanging from strings of semi-magical lights that have been criss-crossed over the main concert area to mimic the sight of stars, and growing from pots meant to hide dusty corners. Illusionary birds fly and flutter about, adding spots of color and life to the old hall.

Small tables and chairs have been set out the entrance for folks to eat and relax at while music fills the hall and spills out.

Jaskier himself headlines the music, accompanied by a flautist, a drummer and a cellist. Songs that he performed at the Summit are part of his set: a song that venerates the magical accomplishments of Thorne (which may earn some grumbles from local Cadenites, but that same magic flows through the hall itself, amplifying the music and preventing echoing and regulating temperature.) His ballad about Lyfbringr, one of the gods of Solvunn, features, with a slightly baudy edge to it. But most prominent are several songs about the Free Cities themselves: bastions of hope for those who have lost their home, rich mixing pots of culture and people, with fantastic advances in technology.

Peppered among the songs are general fun, upbeat songs. As the night draws to a close, the songs become slower and softer, meant for dances between lovers.

Between sets of songs, Jaskier can be see moving through the crowd, shaking hands, dancing, and showing off his precious new pet toy gryphon named Mog, with black fur and feathers and an owlish face. (Yes, you can pet him.) Mog accompanies him on stage as well, flicking his tail and sleeping inside his lute case.]

Speech, Speech, Speech

[Like all good events, it must begin with a speech.

At the beginning of the concert, while his band behind him plays quiet music, Jaskier takes the head of the dais that is acting at the stage, giving the concert-goers a hearty bow with a sweep of his large, feathered hat.]

Hello and greetings, my fellow citizens of Cadens! While you may not know me -- though I highly doubt that, if you've ever stepped foot into a local tavern -- I have been dwelling in your city in some time now as the conveniently-dubbed Summoned. I am the Master Bard Jaskier, and tonight we have gathered for a few hours of good will and merriment.

I have been welcomed into your city ever since I came here by chance, and have long wanted to give back in what ways I can. This concert is being held for the good of the very hall we stand in, long having fallen to disrepair in lieu of other pursuits -- important ones, I'm sure! -- by the city. However, as a musician, I have high respect for any such beautiful place, and I have recently began working tirelessly with an anonymous patron and friend to restore this grand old beauty for the use of all Cadens citizens.

Please, peruse the first floor of the hall to see our recent work in restoring and preserving historical Cadens architecture. There is free food and drink for all -- though, if you're a known glutton, learn a bit of restraint for the sake of the children. [Laugh track.] There are small gifts available in return for donations at the stands just ousdie. There will be collection plates placed around the tables, and by the door -- you'll see that lovely young man there, yes? He'll be glad to take your coin off your hands! [Another laugh track. He's hilarious, he knows.] All donations will go straight to the restoration of this historic hall.

By your leave, lovely gents and beautiful dames, I bid you a wonderful night. May your hearts be light, and your coin purses even lighter!

For ideas about the general mood of the music:

Youtube Bardcore Playlist

Comments

[gynvael]

[ In the ensuing silence, Geralt turns his gaze directly on Sephiroth and does not look away. He can practically see the gears turning. He isn't suspicious, really. Sephiroth has, by and large, just come off as a man who wants to mind his own business and not be bothered, which is a sentiment Geralt can appreciate.

(He also bears those eyes that are strikingly similar to another Geralt has met in Cadens, which he's chosen to leave alone for now.)

No, not suspicion. This is...curiosity, more than anything. Perhaps it comes down to the fact that Ciri has lost people here, before, and she's been especially cautious to get too close to most, given her unusual connection to the Singularity. Maybe part of him simply wants to know if she's really found a friend rather than a mere acquaintance.

His attention moves to Ciri, who he can pick out from the crowd near the table of food. Naturally. ]

She rarely keeps company on the road. You left an impression.

[supersoldier]

[He holds that gaze, stolid enough that he hopefully does not look like a chocobo caught in headlights. Truth is, there is nothing to hide (except maybe the parts of the trip that did not go very smoothly; asked as he was not to share those). Sephiroth simply has trouble weaving social connections together, knowing how to handle them once they are realized or otherwise thrown into his lap. He was never trained for that.

But at least Geralt doesn't expect more from him. The man doesn't seem the type to wheedle, appears to err on the side of no-nonsense, and there's a comfort to be had in that.

His eyes trail, following Geralt's, spotting Ciri at a distance. Lingers for a moment.]

We get along. I would call her a friend.

[Simply stated, as rare as it is for him. It's the truth, and he looks back at Geralt.]

She's capable, though. I doubt she ever needs company on the road, which she has you to thank for. [Apparently.]

[gynvael]

[ Sephiroth has got the faintest hint of that look, but Geralt makes no comment on it. He's long learned things have a way of surfacing without his ever asking outright. He suspects it's nothing that needs to be dug up this instant, if it's anything at all.

A friend suffices as an answer. He acknowledges both remarks with a noncommittal hum. ] She has herself to thank.

[ He taught her, that's all. The things she needed to know. But Ciri survived on her own before he ever came into the picture. He doesn't add further; he did more than train the girl, but that isn't a conversation to be had during a casual encounter. He offers more liquor to Sephiroth instead. For Geralt, this functions as a gesture of acceptance. ]

And you? You took a leap that day. [ Off the museum roof he means. Considering he did it in view of the entire city, Geralt assumes Sephiroth has little inclination to hide what he is. ]

[supersoldier]

[Again, he takes the bottle in an automatic way, but this time thinks to take a drink as though to busy himself while he considers an answer. Sephiroth only notes the taste after it lingers on his tongue, but even then he just replies without savoring it.]

I’m a SOLDIER.

[Phonetically, it means little, but there’s a weight to the way he says it that belies something more like a title than a simple job description. To his credit, he doesn’t leave him guessing.]

On my planet, we’re an elite fighting force belonging to Shinra’s army. They task us with particularly dangerous missions, mostly because we possess capabilities beyond what a normal human can perform.

[His lips thin. The tries to reword it in a way that doesn’t sound so clinical, like verbiage from the science department.]

…basically, jumping off a building only a few stories high is simple because of it.

[gynvael]

[ Sephiroth says I'm a soldier in the same manner Geralt occasionally says I'm a Witcher or I'm a hunter, a phrase which serves to explain nothing and everything at the same time. In truth, Geralt may have left it at that, had Sephiroth not expanded further—he knows, more than most, how it is when it's less a case of being elusive and more a case of having a history too complicated to sum up in one conversation.

Geralt needs at least twelve hours and a barrel of wine or three to go through his.

Sephiroth's explanation still doesn't cover much ground, but it'll do. Geralt considers for a moment, and takes it for what it is. He can't explain more about himself, either, other than mutated by mages and not human. ] Doesn't that sound familiar.

[ Familiar, but not quite the same. At the end of the day, they simply pursue monsters for coin. Elite or other titles of prestige have never been attached to his kind. ]

[supersoldier]

[It is a title, true, and one that many are proud to wield. But for Sephiroth, it is all he ever knew. When he had leapt off the building that day, it was not to showboat, but only to be finished with the task at hand. He thought little of the questions that might arise because of it, moving only in ways that were often second nature to him, and never questioned back on Gaia.

Another instance that reminds him things are different here. The people are different here, their experiences foreign, and their backgrounds varied. But Geralt's reply implies a degree of... sameness. Some parallel that he can't be sure about, but maybe he can guess.

After all, whereas Sephiroth had jumped down from a building's rooftop, Geralt had scaled its facade with an equal amount of ease not that long after.]

Does it?

[Open-ended question. He can explain as much as he's willing, but Sephiroth can't hide that he's minutely curious.]

[gynvael]

Mm-hmm. Not really a soldier, though. We just kill monsters.

[ It's a significant point for his kind—a desire to be removed from courts and kingdoms, and the affairs of men in general. In practice, things are...more complicated. And Geralt in particular has wound up with a princess in his care and ties to Thorne he never wanted, but—

He's always been rather shit at staying out of things. Even if he'll not ever admit it.

Still, some part of him dislikes being mistaken to have some cause or loyalty he's aligned to. As far as he wants the world to be concerned, the only thing he does is solve someone's monster problem in exchange for coin. ]

[supersoldier]

["Not really a soldier" is a significant qualifier for many reasons unsaid. Namely, that there's no strict adherence of loyalty to any one single entity; though "we" also implies more than a personal endeavor.

So, questions arise like weeds, despite the fact that Geralt doesn't go into detail. He sorts through which ones are worth asking, and decides on the most obvious first.]

Who's "we"?

[Part of a larger group? Does he have a title, even if it isn't a military one? Or are monster hunters a gil-a-dozen on his planet?]

[gynvael]

Witchers. [ It's a term he almost never uses here, except when it truly comes up. It means nothing to no one. He could claim he were a talking dragon and it would hold more common meaning than this. ] We were created to hunt the beasts that roamed the Continent.

[ Nothing more, nothing less. Simple, easy. Stripped of all its history, and the fact that almost none of them are left. There's, what. Six now? Seven? On an entire continent?

It stings. To watch his brothers dwindle away, one by one. But unlike what some may believe, Geralt holds no desire to rebuild his own people. It was not exactly a gentle process, not exactly the kindest life. The idea that one day there will be no more Witchers left to speak of—perhaps it's for the best. ]