[Once Jaskier stands straight and catches a glimpse of the man, felt the clap of his hand, a strange choking noise is squeeze from his throat, accompanied with a small:] Ger --
[Immediately, he smooths his hair down, pushing a few strands behind his ear and out of his face. Jaskier clears his throat, his eyes lingering on the ragged scar over the man's face. (A wolf claw?)
Is this a curse? Is he just destined to be haunted by men who look like the White Wolf? Destiny once again tosses her waves of hair with a laugh, tinkling like bells. (Oh. That's a good line. He'll write that down later.)]
Ah -- Sten, yes! Of course. Still, lovely to meet you. My apologies, you look -- you reminded me of someone I know. [It feels like he should offer an explanation that will hopefully persuade the werewolf that he does not simply choke on his spit sometimes.] My name is Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove -- though I suppose you may have heard me introduced as Jaskier. [He takes his seat, pulling the edges of his coat out from under him. Oh. This is not awful. A bit of him had been expecting some sort of of secluded forest grove and some stumps.
To be fair, he has no prior experience with werewolf. Though he once had a lover he'd suspected of being one. The man simply had entirely too much hair.
Sten really has that lover beat in looks and levels of hair. Jaskier cannot stop his eyes from lingering as he removes his lute from his back, laying it across his back.] The ceremony? Sten, I hardly have the words! I've traveled for most of my life, and I've never once seen something so... forgive me if I offend -- bestial in nature -- yet with a marked humanity, so entrenched in nature itself. All dressed in the pale light of the moon! It reminded me of some ceremonies I once witnessed among the company of druids, but, of course, their ability to change shape is only legend -- and when the moonlight lit the lamp! Why, I'd never felt so warm --
[To anyone who has ever met Jaskier, his overabundance of words is indicative of his excitement and his interest instead of nervousness, and honestly only speaking of the sights he saw a mere hour ago is enough to light him up, to forget the nerves that had twisted on the way here.] I spent much of my time listening to your people's music, and I wrote a small something on the way here, to remember what I'd seen, somewhat in the style I listened to. I wonder if I would not be amiss to ask if you would like to listen? If we have time.
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[Immediately, he smooths his hair down, pushing a few strands behind his ear and out of his face. Jaskier clears his throat, his eyes lingering on the ragged scar over the man's face. (A wolf claw?)
Is this a curse? Is he just destined to be haunted by men who look like the White Wolf? Destiny once again tosses her waves of hair with a laugh, tinkling like bells. (Oh. That's a good line. He'll write that down later.)]
Ah -- Sten, yes! Of course. Still, lovely to meet you. My apologies, you look -- you reminded me of someone I know. [It feels like he should offer an explanation that will hopefully persuade the werewolf that he does not simply choke on his spit sometimes.] My name is Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove -- though I suppose you may have heard me introduced as Jaskier. [He takes his seat, pulling the edges of his coat out from under him. Oh. This is not awful. A bit of him had been expecting some sort of of secluded forest grove and some stumps.
To be fair, he has no prior experience with werewolf. Though he once had a lover he'd suspected of being one. The man simply had entirely too much hair.
Sten really has that lover beat in looks and levels of hair. Jaskier cannot stop his eyes from lingering as he removes his lute from his back, laying it across his back.] The ceremony? Sten, I hardly have the words! I've traveled for most of my life, and I've never once seen something so... forgive me if I offend -- bestial in nature -- yet with a marked humanity, so entrenched in nature itself. All dressed in the pale light of the moon! It reminded me of some ceremonies I once witnessed among the company of druids, but, of course, their ability to change shape is only legend -- and when the moonlight lit the lamp! Why, I'd never felt so warm --
[To anyone who has ever met Jaskier, his overabundance of words is indicative of his excitement and his interest instead of nervousness, and honestly only speaking of the sights he saw a mere hour ago is enough to light him up, to forget the nerves that had twisted on the way here.] I spent much of my time listening to your people's music, and I wrote a small something on the way here, to remember what I'd seen, somewhat in the style I listened to. I wonder if I would not be amiss to ask if you would like to listen? If we have time.