[That stops him in his tracks. If he didn't know Geralt so well, it would have felt more like a verbal lash -- something to use against him. No. No, he didn't see Sodden burn. And he didn't see... the onslaught of Nilfgaard. He did not see the princess, nor the army pursuing her... and yet he still promised to find a girl he knows nothing about.
Why did you ask me to find her, then? Was it because of her disappearance from the Horizon? How he found this sad sack of shit all alone with his horse again?
Jaskier watches the little birds flit to and fro now. They act completely natural as birds; he no longer has to guide their every movement. Magic. Could he use magic to find her, on another sphere? No. No, what a stupid thought. That must be impossible.
The bard flicks a bit of dust at the Witcher.] You don't know that. [Neither of them did.
Jaskier's shoulders fall. What else can he do? Not much. Every time he thinks of it, it makes less sense that he is here. An honoured guest. A hero. And not one has any bastard actually requested him to play.
Geralt looks like shit. Hard to say whether the things he had in Horizon have affected him more than being in the dungeons so long. Not even ill-begotten goods from Jaskier will keep him alive, or healthy, forever. For once, he doesn't mention it. How shit he looks. Instead, he closes the books between them, piling them together. At least he can bring the props with him.] Too many times. Enough that I'm found to be a bit of a nuisance now, I imagine. [The birds hop onto his shoulders as he pushes several books towards Geralt.] We're going to my quarters. You need a bloody nap. [He holds up a hand before Geralt gets a word in.] I swear to Melitele's tits themselves that I will attack you if you even attempt to turn this offer down.
[Besides, someone has to read this shit, and Geralt can barely concentrate on a sentence. He's not going to be much help.]
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Why did you ask me to find her, then? Was it because of her disappearance from the Horizon? How he found this sad sack of shit all alone with his horse again?
Jaskier watches the little birds flit to and fro now. They act completely natural as birds; he no longer has to guide their every movement. Magic. Could he use magic to find her, on another sphere? No. No, what a stupid thought. That must be impossible.
The bard flicks a bit of dust at the Witcher.] You don't know that. [Neither of them did.
Jaskier's shoulders fall. What else can he do? Not much. Every time he thinks of it, it makes less sense that he is here. An honoured guest. A hero. And not one has any bastard actually requested him to play.
Geralt looks like shit. Hard to say whether the things he had in Horizon have affected him more than being in the dungeons so long. Not even ill-begotten goods from Jaskier will keep him alive, or healthy, forever. For once, he doesn't mention it. How shit he looks. Instead, he closes the books between them, piling them together. At least he can bring the props with him.] Too many times. Enough that I'm found to be a bit of a nuisance now, I imagine. [The birds hop onto his shoulders as he pushes several books towards Geralt.] We're going to my quarters. You need a bloody nap. [He holds up a hand before Geralt gets a word in.] I swear to Melitele's tits themselves that I will attack you if you even attempt to turn this offer down.
[Besides, someone has to read this shit, and Geralt can barely concentrate on a sentence. He's not going to be much help.]