[There's no judgement from Jaskier. Hasn't he, too, returned to what he knows? He knows performing. He knows writing of what he experiences, the people he meets. He knows spreading his name and making coin. They are never things that have been a waste of time.
Jaskier's hand still at the sound of her name. Mog's gone quiet now, and still, curled into a tight ball with a belly full of meat. Not a thought of worry in his small, feathered head.]
Well, that's clear enough. I watched for years as you avoided even thought of her.
[It's not like Jaskier to avoid the obvious, which that certainly was. For years. When Geralt denied the thought of her was what made him miss sleep for ages, too. He certainly sleeps rather well now, doesn't he? (Jaskier hopes. Better than those years ago, at least.)
Jaskier scoffs, popping a dripping bit of rabbit into his mouth. He dabs his mouth delicately with an embroidered napkin after, pulled from his pocket.] You belong wherever you are, with the people you love and befriend. It's always been that simple, Geralt. Anyone who disagrees can fuck off.
[He knows what Geralt may be hinting at, but Jaskier simply cannot agree. Whatever he is, whatever he was made to be, he belongs. Because... you know what, because Jaskier says he does.
He quiets. Ah. That's what Geralt was saying, actually. He clears his throat.]
All these years, you've never managed a straight answer. At this rate, I'm going to have to answer for you. You and Ciri, my beloved best friend and tawny, wayward daughter, make me happy. And all the strange fools we've collected on the way. And maybe the dumb beast at your feet. [He imitates Geralt's voice in that precise manner he's learned from a lifetime with him.
It isn't satisfying, if he's truthful. He's always been afraid of this. That Geralt never expects it for himself. Happiness. A sense of peace. Something more.
He leans back, poking Mog with a foot just to bother him. The gryphon mewls at him, kicking back with a back leg, before curling up tighter into a perfect ball, legs tucked in against his belly.] I shouldn't ask. Something about being on the Path again has my thoughts heavier than usual. [That's all it is. Clearly.] It's good, you know. Being out here again. This, I suppose... is what pleases me.
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Jaskier's hand still at the sound of her name. Mog's gone quiet now, and still, curled into a tight ball with a belly full of meat. Not a thought of worry in his small, feathered head.]
Well, that's clear enough. I watched for years as you avoided even thought of her.
[It's not like Jaskier to avoid the obvious, which that certainly was. For years. When Geralt denied the thought of her was what made him miss sleep for ages, too. He certainly sleeps rather well now, doesn't he? (Jaskier hopes. Better than those years ago, at least.)
Jaskier scoffs, popping a dripping bit of rabbit into his mouth. He dabs his mouth delicately with an embroidered napkin after, pulled from his pocket.] You belong wherever you are, with the people you love and befriend. It's always been that simple, Geralt. Anyone who disagrees can fuck off.
[He knows what Geralt may be hinting at, but Jaskier simply cannot agree. Whatever he is, whatever he was made to be, he belongs. Because... you know what, because Jaskier says he does.
He quiets. Ah. That's what Geralt was saying, actually. He clears his throat.]
All these years, you've never managed a straight answer. At this rate, I'm going to have to answer for you. You and Ciri, my beloved best friend and tawny, wayward daughter, make me happy. And all the strange fools we've collected on the way. And maybe the dumb beast at your feet. [He imitates Geralt's voice in that precise manner he's learned from a lifetime with him.
It isn't satisfying, if he's truthful. He's always been afraid of this. That Geralt never expects it for himself. Happiness. A sense of peace. Something more.
He leans back, poking Mog with a foot just to bother him. The gryphon mewls at him, kicking back with a back leg, before curling up tighter into a perfect ball, legs tucked in against his belly.] I shouldn't ask. Something about being on the Path again has my thoughts heavier than usual. [That's all it is. Clearly.] It's good, you know. Being out here again. This, I suppose... is what pleases me.