[Ohhh, lords. He's delighted. Being able to show off his monster knowledge (that he completely gleaned from bugging the shit out of Geralt and tagging behind him, and perhaps from bugging the shit out of other people) may as well be one of his favorite hobbies.]
No, my dear lady! I mean, I do have an expansive imagination, but I'm a crafter of poetry, not language.
[If only he could draw a picture. It would certainly pass along the idea better.]
It's like a... dragon. [He pauses.] Chicken. A dragon chicken.
[Yep, that's him showing off. ANYWAY, dragons are way more interesting. Cockatrice sort of just scream and kill anyone who exists too close to them.] As for dragons, I completely understand! Er, not fighting one, exactly, but what I wouldn't give to simply watch the battle! [Especially her. Sword gleaming in the sun, catching on the perfect droplet of sweat on her formidable brow... ah. The things ballads are made of! And, as a treat, he can already imagine, with her expressive face, the sort of smarmy, shit-eating grin a hero would have.
He's running away with this image. For sure.
He lights up. Oh, yes. She's definitely getting a theme song, as she puts it.] Oh, I promise you'll get your ballad. Give me a week! Perhaps less, even. Of course a continued demonstration of your strength would be delightful, but I suppose it's no easy feat to find... bones. Bones? For you to fight?
[Wait, bones? It's not the worst. Bones are easy to rhyme with. Bones can be very well-used in metaphor. Bones are a bit difficult to, ah, make an epic topic of. Well. He could title it Boner for Bones.
Mmm. That might not fly.] Are bones particularly dangerous where you come from? Is that -- is that a thing?
no subject
No, my dear lady! I mean, I do have an expansive imagination, but I'm a crafter of poetry, not language.
[If only he could draw a picture. It would certainly pass along the idea better.]
It's like a... dragon. [He pauses.] Chicken. A dragon chicken.
[Yep, that's him showing off. ANYWAY, dragons are way more interesting. Cockatrice sort of just scream and kill anyone who exists too close to them.] As for dragons, I completely understand! Er, not fighting one, exactly, but what I wouldn't give to simply watch the battle! [Especially her. Sword gleaming in the sun, catching on the perfect droplet of sweat on her formidable brow... ah. The things ballads are made of! And, as a treat, he can already imagine, with her expressive face, the sort of smarmy, shit-eating grin a hero would have.
He's running away with this image. For sure.
He lights up. Oh, yes. She's definitely getting a theme song, as she puts it.] Oh, I promise you'll get your ballad. Give me a week! Perhaps less, even. Of course a continued demonstration of your strength would be delightful, but I suppose it's no easy feat to find... bones. Bones? For you to fight?
[Wait, bones? It's not the worst. Bones are easy to rhyme with. Bones can be very well-used in metaphor. Bones are a bit difficult to, ah, make an epic topic of. Well. He could title it Boner for Bones.
Mmm. That might not fly.] Are bones particularly dangerous where you come from? Is that -- is that a thing?