[ He's staying for a drink, thank you. (He stayed to listen.) He splits some bread, picks at it with butter and cheese while he waits for their meal to arrive. He's paid for an hour in the bath available upstairs afterwards. Even a bit off the path out here, running water reaches, though not heated water. Which doesn't matter given the warm spring air. A cool bath sounds perfectly pleasant.
He slips Mog a bit of bread. The gryphon snaps it up, his feathers puffing in pleasure. ]
Hm. [ Yeah. It does feel nearly like home. If they were trapped in space or places with metal carriages zooming about, he'd frankly not know what to think. Encountering strange inventions in a shared plane of the mind is one thing, a curiosity and a novelty he can examine and then leave behind afterwards. The idea of existing in a world full of that shit is...not preferable. ] And your magic. You've been practicing.
[ The birds, the lights. They're small spells, but magic, learned and controlled. Sometimes he still feels a little wonderment at it all—Jaskier, with magic. And yet it suits him. He almost can't imagine his friend without that flutter of colour and lights when he performs anymore, or sprouting plants from the ground as he pleases.
That's the other side of it, isn't it? If they were to return to the Continent, Jaskier's magic would be stripped away. No longer accessible through their proximity to the Singularity. It's yet one more reason this world, it...feels more and more like theirs. ]
no subject
He slips Mog a bit of bread. The gryphon snaps it up, his feathers puffing in pleasure. ]
Hm. [ Yeah. It does feel nearly like home. If they were trapped in space or places with metal carriages zooming about, he'd frankly not know what to think. Encountering strange inventions in a shared plane of the mind is one thing, a curiosity and a novelty he can examine and then leave behind afterwards. The idea of existing in a world full of that shit is...not preferable. ] And your magic. You've been practicing.
[ The birds, the lights. They're small spells, but magic, learned and controlled. Sometimes he still feels a little wonderment at it all—Jaskier, with magic. And yet it suits him. He almost can't imagine his friend without that flutter of colour and lights when he performs anymore, or sprouting plants from the ground as he pleases.
That's the other side of it, isn't it? If they were to return to the Continent, Jaskier's magic would be stripped away. No longer accessible through their proximity to the Singularity. It's yet one more reason this world, it...feels more and more like theirs. ]