Hah. Hah. You're hilarious, Geralt, really. Have you ever considered doing comedy shows? What a lot of coin we'd make.
[It's all in good fun. Jaskier's in high spirits now; it certainly says something that the invasion of the wraiths is so easily put behind him. He was only (mildly) choked for a moment, and he... it feels as if he's gaining better control of those vines. Earth magic, Rinwell had called it. And she had not been surprised to see it.
There was some relief in that, as little as he understood it. It had to mean that, if she were familiar, others could wield it. It wasn't only him.
He'd have to ask her. If it was someone here, that he could meet. That he could ask.]
Anyway, I know you like her, too. She's spunky. And rude, occasionally. Both qualities you enjoy.
[It doesn't need to be said, of course. Not when she's already begun sleeping on their cushions. Or. One could say she's moved in. They seem to be catching a habit of allowing in stray mages, which he has no complaint about, really. Jaskier himself loves the company, the energy of a busy household with so many opinions in it. As he takes a seat in their tiny kitchen, he pulls out a fresh(er) loaf of bread with some brie, a staple in their home. It's delicious and cheap and he even has butter for it, which he cannot deal with having such easy access to. With Alucard's (perhaps unintentional) encouragement, Jaskier has even begun experimenting with the herbs he grows, including adding bits of rosemary and garlic to the butters.
He pushes still-wet hair behind his ears, watching Geralt move about the room. Ah. He was right. Sitting on his ass with those bruises is quite lovely.] You know, next time you'd like another go, there's no need to pretend we need the bathhouse first.
no subject
[It's all in good fun. Jaskier's in high spirits now; it certainly says something that the invasion of the wraiths is so easily put behind him. He was only (mildly) choked for a moment, and he... it feels as if he's gaining better control of those vines. Earth magic, Rinwell had called it. And she had not been surprised to see it.
There was some relief in that, as little as he understood it. It had to mean that, if she were familiar, others could wield it. It wasn't only him.
He'd have to ask her. If it was someone here, that he could meet. That he could ask.]
Anyway, I know you like her, too. She's spunky. And rude, occasionally. Both qualities you enjoy.
[It doesn't need to be said, of course. Not when she's already begun sleeping on their cushions. Or. One could say she's moved in. They seem to be catching a habit of allowing in stray mages, which he has no complaint about, really. Jaskier himself loves the company, the energy of a busy household with so many opinions in it. As he takes a seat in their tiny kitchen, he pulls out a fresh(er) loaf of bread with some brie, a staple in their home. It's delicious and cheap and he even has butter for it, which he cannot deal with having such easy access to. With Alucard's (perhaps unintentional) encouragement, Jaskier has even begun experimenting with the herbs he grows, including adding bits of rosemary and garlic to the butters.
He pushes still-wet hair behind his ears, watching Geralt move about the room. Ah. He was right. Sitting on his ass with those bruises is quite lovely.] You know, next time you'd like another go, there's no need to pretend we need the bathhouse first.
[It may be a tease. Or it may be the truth.]