[It is in the relaxing, beautiful dawn that Jaskier crafted for himself that Moglad's flute pierces the air.
With this desperate desire to find some small bit of solace, of stillness -- a rare thing that Jaskier has ever craved -- he tucks himself into bed and lets his mind move to the Horizon. Relaxation is what he needs, and while he finds plenty of calm wandering between the grape trellises, plucking bugs off the leaves and watering them by hand, he needs... something different.
So off to the side, where his horses previously grazed, he has made tidy, small hot spring with curls of steam rising from it like music notes. Swathes of buttercups surround it, and a steaming tea pot and cup sit nestled on a flat rock beside him. Jaskier leans against the side, cushioned by flowers and with petals caught in his hair, his eyes closed. He must have been here for hours, and yet the water's temperature never lowers.
He is so close to it. A true sense of Peace. Of Zen. (If he understood the concept.)
And then Moglad's flute makes the water all jump in a splash, and him with it.
Moglad dives towards the grapevines, waving his flute all over between blowing on it. Intruder, kupo! Intruder! Thief! Cretin! Criminal! (Apparently, Moglad's dramatics have been learned from a very certain source.) Moglad flutters near the lizard and waves his flute threateningly. Those are Master Jaskier's, kupo!
To Moglad's credit, he's only been tasked with protecting the grapes from anyone else's domain entreating upon his -- whether it be fire, storm, or wild animals. He blows the flute again and, with a curse, Jaskier wraps a towel around himself and comes running, still dripping with the hot spring's water. He holds onto the towel with one hand, the other ready to -- well. Deal with whatever this is.]
What on earth are you shouting about, Moglad? [The moogle cries out dramatically with another Kupo-po-po!, fluttering behind his head as he points towards the lizard shoving a grape into its mouth.
Jaskier blinks down at it.] This? This is the criminal? [He squats down next to it, poking the dragon's side.] Excuse me, my friend. Those are very special grapes. And while I do not mind sharing, I do appreciate a kind how do you do before one goes around shoving them down their gullet.
early dec is perfect!
With this desperate desire to find some small bit of solace, of stillness -- a rare thing that Jaskier has ever craved -- he tucks himself into bed and lets his mind move to the Horizon. Relaxation is what he needs, and while he finds plenty of calm wandering between the grape trellises, plucking bugs off the leaves and watering them by hand, he needs... something different.
So off to the side, where his horses previously grazed, he has made tidy, small hot spring with curls of steam rising from it like music notes. Swathes of buttercups surround it, and a steaming tea pot and cup sit nestled on a flat rock beside him. Jaskier leans against the side, cushioned by flowers and with petals caught in his hair, his eyes closed. He must have been here for hours, and yet the water's temperature never lowers.
He is so close to it. A true sense of Peace. Of Zen. (If he understood the concept.)
And then Moglad's flute makes the water all jump in a splash, and him with it.
Moglad dives towards the grapevines, waving his flute all over between blowing on it. Intruder, kupo! Intruder! Thief! Cretin! Criminal! (Apparently, Moglad's dramatics have been learned from a very certain source.) Moglad flutters near the lizard and waves his flute threateningly. Those are Master Jaskier's, kupo!
To Moglad's credit, he's only been tasked with protecting the grapes from anyone else's domain entreating upon his -- whether it be fire, storm, or wild animals. He blows the flute again and, with a curse, Jaskier wraps a towel around himself and comes running, still dripping with the hot spring's water. He holds onto the towel with one hand, the other ready to -- well. Deal with whatever this is.]
What on earth are you shouting about, Moglad? [The moogle cries out dramatically with another Kupo-po-po!, fluttering behind his head as he points towards the lizard shoving a grape into its mouth.
Jaskier blinks down at it.] This? This is the criminal? [He squats down next to it, poking the dragon's side.] Excuse me, my friend. Those are very special grapes. And while I do not mind sharing, I do appreciate a kind how do you do before one goes around shoving them down their gullet.