[Though it would be a garish display and he knows Alucard absolutely means it, he can not find it in him to be disgusted. Because he imprisoned Alucard, and Geralt.... Yennefer and Ciri. Himeka. All of these people who have come to mean so much to him, and now they are in danger, once again, from Thorne's movements. Jaskier does not fully comprehend Alucard's anger, burning wild as a forest fire, for he's never had a hate so murderous before -- and even his rivalry with Valdo Marx feels another lifetime ago. But regardless, Alucard is justified to have it. To hold these grudges.
Isn't he? Because Jaskier, without much hesitance, agrees.] And you should. The least he deserves.
[He takes a deep breath. Lets his body realign itself, standing straighter. A second glance at the bushes makes them feel less like a complete failure and closer to an annoyance.
Of course, that feeling lasts only a moment. Hector's name in the air takes the breath out of him, punching him in the gut. And, for a moment, Jaskier remembers Hector asking if he wanted the necromancer to raise those bandits. To turn them into servants. Would Hector have done that? Sent the dead in a move against Thorne? If he asked?
(He is glad Hector is not here, for the first time.)]
Everyone but Hector. He was trying to be... better. In his own way. [Someone who was not merely a tool of others. Jaskier had been privileged to get to know him, but even more so to fall in love with him.
And now that emptiness returns. The nightshades at his feet begin to flail, crawling, digging their roots down like spreading fingers.] In a literal sense? Is your hold on who you are without them so tenuous? [Jaskier blinks, turning to Alucard sharply, surprise across his face, and then, marked confusion.] I'm sorry. I didn't mean that.
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Isn't he? Because Jaskier, without much hesitance, agrees.] And you should. The least he deserves.
[He takes a deep breath. Lets his body realign itself, standing straighter. A second glance at the bushes makes them feel less like a complete failure and closer to an annoyance.
Of course, that feeling lasts only a moment. Hector's name in the air takes the breath out of him, punching him in the gut. And, for a moment, Jaskier remembers Hector asking if he wanted the necromancer to raise those bandits. To turn them into servants. Would Hector have done that? Sent the dead in a move against Thorne? If he asked?
(He is glad Hector is not here, for the first time.)]
Everyone but Hector. He was trying to be... better. In his own way. [Someone who was not merely a tool of others. Jaskier had been privileged to get to know him, but even more so to fall in love with him.
And now that emptiness returns. The nightshades at his feet begin to flail, crawling, digging their roots down like spreading fingers.] In a literal sense? Is your hold on who you are without them so tenuous? [Jaskier blinks, turning to Alucard sharply, surprise across his face, and then, marked confusion.] I'm sorry. I didn't mean that.