[ It is the sort of remark Geralt only makes when the afterglow of sex is heavy. Leaves him saying shit he might usually think twice about.
His nose wrinkles as the petals shower him. He blows them off. A few land in his hair. ]
Spring's always suited you, Jaskier.
[ Hence the flowers. The magic that chose the bard. It need not be said how different it is to the magic that's chosen Geralt. Or manifested within him, as it were. He closes his eyes, releasing a contented breath. ]
Go to sleep before you suffocate me in your flowers.
no subject
His nose wrinkles as the petals shower him. He blows them off. A few land in his hair. ]
Spring's always suited you, Jaskier.
[ Hence the flowers. The magic that chose the bard. It need not be said how different it is to the magic that's chosen Geralt. Or manifested within him, as it were. He closes his eyes, releasing a contented breath. ]
Go to sleep before you suffocate me in your flowers.