[At least the name of it lends some suspicions onto what, exactly, such magic does. And for it to have a proper name, seemingly with Capital Letters, Jaskier can guess it is either something from his home, or... well, not from the schools around here, though one would be hard-pressed to find a willing teach of magic without resorting to the black market. At least in Cadens. Perhaps especially in Cadens.

Aquila... maybe. Perhaps not black markets, but certainly shadier ones.]

"We"? [Oh. Ah. There's a bit of a sad pall to Jaskier's face at the mention; not for Astarion so much as what elves and magic and children as a topic together entails.]

If they had young to teach, I would think so. [He rubs a hand over his face. Quite a change from the man so excited to share the painting, but -- his heart is still so heavy when he thinks of them. As it always will be.] If the stories are true, the elves were the ones who taught us -- humans -- magic. Until it was turned against them. I suppose it is hardly a surprisingly conclusion to most stories, but... the effects of such a tide turned against them has led rise to an angry sea. When I left my sphere, I'm afraid a great war was brewing, and the elves still living were caught in the middle of it.

[He sighs.] Well. Suppose the war's officially started now.

[A moment of quiet, and his eyes come back to the present, to meet Astarion's pretty garnet-colored ones.] I hardly should think you wish to hear the ills of elves from my sphere.