[ The Black Sun has come and gone. Jaskier's flower stall is thriving. They've found a larger place to rent, with an extra bed. It has not been simple. Everything is...still heavy. Aching. But they are moving forward and that's all they can do.
He's been in their home, between contracts as he is, sanding wood and quietly constructing the gryphon its bed. He does not wish to talk about why he's taken upon this project. But the truth is, it reminds him a bit of when he built his cabin in the Horizon. His memories of that time are complicated. The constructing, though. It was good. Working with his hands. Whether he's training, skinning a deer, building a miniature bed—he's always kept his hands busy.
It's late afternoon when he enters the Horizon. He means to look in on Kaer Morhen. To see if he can finally address that. Place. Underneath the keep. To see if he can form it into the lab proper, without the blood, the hollow screams that echo. But he can't bring himself to go down there. He changes his mind—turning to search for Jaskier's domain instead.
He almost walks right by it. The familiarity of the scene is what makes him stop. Of course he recognizes it. What wanderer of the Continent wouldn't? Every traveller's been to Bleobheris. But it's more than that. It carries all the touches of his friend: the creatures, the music.
For a moment, he only looks at it. It's unexpected, and yet so fitting. Much more than the solitary tavern. This, he thinks, is what truly feels like Jaskier.
He strolls through the glade, curious, eyeing what the place has to offer. At the base of the ancient oak, he presses his palm to it. For the first time in a long while, his mind is quiet as he ascends the spiralling stairs. ]
mid-march.
He's been in their home, between contracts as he is, sanding wood and quietly constructing the gryphon its bed. He does not wish to talk about why he's taken upon this project. But the truth is, it reminds him a bit of when he built his cabin in the Horizon. His memories of that time are complicated. The constructing, though. It was good. Working with his hands. Whether he's training, skinning a deer, building a miniature bed—he's always kept his hands busy.
It's late afternoon when he enters the Horizon. He means to look in on Kaer Morhen. To see if he can finally address that. Place. Underneath the keep. To see if he can form it into the lab proper, without the blood, the hollow screams that echo. But he can't bring himself to go down there. He changes his mind—turning to search for Jaskier's domain instead.
He almost walks right by it. The familiarity of the scene is what makes him stop. Of course he recognizes it. What wanderer of the Continent wouldn't? Every traveller's been to Bleobheris. But it's more than that. It carries all the touches of his friend: the creatures, the music.
For a moment, he only looks at it. It's unexpected, and yet so fitting. Much more than the solitary tavern. This, he thinks, is what truly feels like Jaskier.
He strolls through the glade, curious, eyeing what the place has to offer. At the base of the ancient oak, he presses his palm to it. For the first time in a long while, his mind is quiet as he ascends the spiralling stairs. ]