[ He hasn't got a proper picture, no, but he can gather somewhat. Slums tells him she must live in a fairly large city, not a village. Explains its slightly scuffed edges—different than the rustic look of something built plainly by hand.
He pulls out a chair, sits. The smell of florals is strong in here, too. He picks up one of the stems. Remembers trimming Jaskier's flowers at his stalls, the bundles he'd helped the children with at the summit. ]
Snow, mountains. You can see it. [ He indicates southward where the looming fortress sits on the white peaks. If she ever walks by, it's hard to miss. ] I was raised there, but we return only in winter. Most of the year, I ride. One end of the Continent to the other. We make the path our home.
[ Does he like it? He does. It's what he knows, even if it isn't what he chose. Every tree and shrub and flowering bush is familiar. The wilds have never turned against him. If you understand it, it's there for you. ]
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He pulls out a chair, sits. The smell of florals is strong in here, too. He picks up one of the stems. Remembers trimming Jaskier's flowers at his stalls, the bundles he'd helped the children with at the summit. ]
Snow, mountains. You can see it. [ He indicates southward where the looming fortress sits on the white peaks. If she ever walks by, it's hard to miss. ] I was raised there, but we return only in winter. Most of the year, I ride. One end of the Continent to the other. We make the path our home.
[ Does he like it? He does. It's what he knows, even if it isn't what he chose. Every tree and shrub and flowering bush is familiar. The wilds have never turned against him. If you understand it, it's there for you. ]