[Well, he will be. He needs to be in Nocwich to do so, but luckily he's gone so often, and stayed so often, that there's nearly always a room waiting for him. Jaskier never skirts his chance to go to Nocwich -- he's hardly a place that inspires him so consistently.]
Oh, absolutely. The chance to complain about it all for a bit is a succulent offer indeed.
[And as he promised, Jaskier arrives early in Nocwich to both greet the wolves he's made acquaintances with and to book their room for as long as it's needed. There's already a bottle of wine waiting for them (untouched by blood, he's made sure.) Jaskier gives him the number of the room and waits on the bed, plucking at his lute, with Mog sleeping at his feet.]
[ Even if he didn't know which room it was, the melody would draw him. Rhy knocks only to announce himself, not waiting for an answer before he lets himself in. ]
Aren't you a sight for sore eyes? [ Rhy smiles, shutting the door behind him and toeing off his shoes immediately, shedding his jacket a pace past the door to leave it draped over a chair. He makes himself comfortable without invitation, knowing none is needed, and seems to relax with every step. ]
[Jaskier perks up the moment the knock comes, gently scooting Mog with his foot. The cat's quite used to all matters of strange and sudden noises being with Jaskier so long, and only gives a great, mighty stretch and hops up on the table to invite a few scratches under his chin from Rhy.]
Rhy, my dear! You look as beautiful as ever. [He leans in to kiss the man on his cheeks, greeting him with a hug. It honestly has been too long.]
I tried to leave him, but we've moved to a new house and he's been awfully contentious about the whole thing. If I didn't bring him, he would've torn up my bed, the little bastard.
[ Rhy gives him a lingering, squeezing hug in return, kisses him on both cheeks, and hugs him again. It's been too long since they've seen each other in the flesh; it always feels better than in the Horizon, no matter how realistic it can be. ]
Aww, how can you say no to that face?
[ Finally, Rhy releases him, if a bit grudgingly. He will turn his attention to Mog in the meantime, making sure to give him some pets too. ]
But tell me about your new home! That sounds exciting.
[ Not much of an option for that in the castle, but Rhy doesn't need to say as much. ]
Well, clearly I didn't! [He huffs. And yet the creature is the most beloved thing (besides Nadine, obviously) in his life. His chocobo comes in at a very close third. Geralt is probably after the chocobo somewhere.
Still, Jaskier is endlessly cheered seeing his friend, especially in reasonably good spirits and in the flesh. His embraces are as warm as ever. Jaskier gives him another hearty pat on the back, with a rub, another kiss, and lets him go as well.
Mog fully expects his turn, but at least he waits for it as well.]
It is, but it's still in a state of disaster. Decorating, moving... Geralt's building himself a bloody bed instead of letting me buy one, for whatever reason. [That answers the question well enough.] The poor dear, Geralt couldn't suffer to be without me. So yes, we remain together. Though he's finally got his own room now.
[ Rhy laughs, trying to scoop Mog up into his arms and sit on the edge of the bed with him. ]
I'm so glad to hear you're both doing well.
...'strange happenings' aside. [ He meets Jaskier's eyes, expectant but not pushing. Just since Jaskier had mentioned it, that he should know he's welcome to talk to Rhy if he wants to, and that Rhy will lend an ear. ]
[Jaskier takes the seat next to him, stretching his legs (and toes) out. He's filled with this sort of restless energy, both because Rhy is ridiculously good looking and Jaskier is always existing with sex on his mind, but also because he has a feeling he knows where conversation may lead, and... it is still a lot.
He laughs to himself behind a hand, Mog's tail flopping over both their laps. Ah. He had a feeling.]
Feeling nosy today, are we? [His fingers fold together, picking at his cuticle. Even with Julie, who knew his world relatively well, he couldn't explain it all. So he must start simply.] Has the Singularity ever... well, I suppose I don't know if it's the Singularity doing it, really, but it's -- I've had these dreams that I leave here, and return home, and the world continues on as it had before... but then I wake, [His fingers curl into a fist.] and I'm back here, and I have scars to prove those memories did happen.
[ Though Jaskier was the one to mention it first. Rhy waits, leaning his shoulder against Jaskier's.
A crease appears between his brows. ]
That's... never happened to me, no.
Dreams that are memories? That leave scars?
[ He scoots back just enough to get a better look at Jaskier this time, concern in his eyes, automatically checking for wounds that probably would be hidden beneath his clothes anyway. ]
It's a bit difficult to explain. And to believe, I imagine.
[He smiles, but it's a fluttery one; now that he has to go through this again, it's a bit harder to be as easily light as before. But he is determined not to bother Rhy, if only because his friend has plenty to worry about himself.
Jaskier offers his hands, where the fingertips shine under the light unnaturally, the tips scarred. It is not a terrible wound, in the grand scheme of things, but it is terrible because of where it came from.]
I've been in Abraxas a long time. But there was a time it felt like I was back on my own sphere. When I woke, my hands had changed. Not much, of course, but they had undeniably changed. A soreness I wasn't used to settled in, with the memories. And smaller scars elsewhere. [He meets Rhy's eyes as he says it. It's easier now. He's dead. He's dead.] On my sphere, a mage to -- [He swallows. It's. Easier. Now. He's dead.] He wanted information from me. And where I come from, only the basest of men use fire magic to get what they want. Unfortunately, he knew I was a bard. He knew my hands were more important than anything else.
[ It takes Rhy a second to understand. For the horror of it to really land.
His eyes widen, and he squeezes Jaskier's hands (gently), fingers trembling. ]
Oh, Jaskier-- That's so awful! I'm sorry you suffered like that. What an atrocious, absolutely horrendous bag of actual shit. [ He bites it out with a cold venom so uncharacteristic of his usual warm, earnest voice. The words shake leaving his throat. ]
Saints... and the scars? [ He feels Jaskier's fingertips beneath his own, the different texture of the new skin. He'd never noticed. ]
Even though you didn't go anywhere? [ Surely if Jaskier actually somehow ended up back home and was Summoned yet again, he wouldn't neglect to mention it. ]
[There. He thinks it must be the first time he's ever truly explained it -- to someone who wasn't there to understand Rience, and fire magic, and what it's done to him -- since it happened. His smile is almost wistful, and while maybe another would have pulled from the touch, Jaskier is grateful for it. His hands still shake even now, thinking of it.
His laugh is almost silent, but it's there.] He truly was.
[Rience hardly deserves a touch of kindness from anyone; Jaskier hardly cares what led him to doing what he does. Another man who wants power, who wants to please his masters. He leans into Rhy's shoulder, uncurling his fingers in display.] I don't know how to explain it. To me, I was there. Those things happened. Time has passed.
[He can't not believe that, because it's what he needs to make sense of it. They were experiences, pieces of his life.] But when I was there, I suppose... I didn't have memories of being here, either. It's almost -- we have an event that happened in my world, called the Conjunction of the Spheres. It's when several worlds impacted upon each other, joining together to become one. That's what this feels like. As if two separate lives has smashed together, forming one. Forming mine. Without these scars, I might have considered it nothing. But... I know what the touch of flame feels like, for hours of it. I cannot just believe it's a memory only granted to me.
[ The description seems the best he can manage, and Rhy tries to make sense of it. But it doesn't matter that he doesn't understand, logically speaking. What he does know is that, to Jaskier, it is real. That his pain was real, as is his fear.
Rhy puts an arm around his shoulders and hugs him close, pressing his forehead to the side of Jaskier's head. ]
That sounds very confusing and frightening. I'm sorry you went through that.
I only hope sharing it with me has lightened the burden you carry, even if only slightly. Is there anything I can do?
[It feels good to sink into someone. It's not as if Geralt and Yennefer did not offer their -- very unique -- brands of comfort. He doesn't really need comfort now that it is in the past. Redania could not give him what he wanted, but Rience is still dead, and as long as this world does not see fit to bring him back, that is all Jaskier needs.
Just the knowledge he is dead and gone. That no one will remember his name. Another puppet of powers who did not care for him.
Perhaps he was pitiable. Jaskier, however, doesn't give a shite.
He lets Rhy embrace him, rests in the very real warmth of him. It's so good to see him, in a place that is not the Horizon. He knows it's as good as real, but the full knowledge of it isn't. Funny... a bit like these memories, isn't it?]
You're doing all I would've asked for. [He smiles to himself. Skin-to-skin, Mog sleeping peacefully now, and the quiet of a cooled Nocwich inn room is comfort enough.] And you smell delectable. A new cologne, perhaps?
Almond oil! A genius stands before me. Oh, were it that I was able to give you your very own almond tree, but I fear she shall not make it through the portal.
[Most likely it is magic interfering with magic, but he cannot say for sure. What he can say is that Thorne could use more almond trees if it makes their men smell this heavenly.]
I missed you, too. [He wishes he could claim that held true on the Continent, but Jaskier has long come to terms that these two lives are separate somehow. They he cannot even carry memories of Nadine with him -- which hurts more than anything.] He's never treated me well, but you can rest assured he's treating me the same as usual. [He picks his head up to kiss Rhy's lovely cheek back, arms around him. Simply marveling in the touch.] And what of your Kell?
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cointosser) wrote2021-04-12 08:58 pm
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[Well, he will be. He needs to be in Nocwich to do so, but luckily he's gone so often, and stayed so often, that there's nearly always a room waiting for him. Jaskier never skirts his chance to go to Nocwich -- he's hardly a place that inspires him so consistently.]
Oh, absolutely. The chance to complain about it all for a bit is a succulent offer indeed.
[And as he promised, Jaskier arrives early in Nocwich to both greet the wolves he's made acquaintances with and to book their room for as long as it's needed. There's already a bottle of wine waiting for them (untouched by blood, he's made sure.) Jaskier gives him the number of the room and waits on the bed, plucking at his lute, with Mog sleeping at his feet.]
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Aren't you a sight for sore eyes? [ Rhy smiles, shutting the door behind him and toeing off his shoes immediately, shedding his jacket a pace past the door to leave it draped over a chair. He makes himself comfortable without invitation, knowing none is needed, and seems to relax with every step. ]
Oh! And you brought Mog!
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Rhy, my dear! You look as beautiful as ever. [He leans in to kiss the man on his cheeks, greeting him with a hug. It honestly has been too long.]
I tried to leave him, but we've moved to a new house and he's been awfully contentious about the whole thing. If I didn't bring him, he would've torn up my bed, the little bastard.
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Aww, how can you say no to that face?
[ Finally, Rhy releases him, if a bit grudgingly. He will turn his attention to Mog in the meantime, making sure to give him some pets too. ]
But tell me about your new home! That sounds exciting.
[ Not much of an option for that in the castle, but Rhy doesn't need to say as much. ]
Still with your friend Geralt?
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Still, Jaskier is endlessly cheered seeing his friend, especially in reasonably good spirits and in the flesh. His embraces are as warm as ever. Jaskier gives him another hearty pat on the back, with a rub, another kiss, and lets him go as well.
Mog fully expects his turn, but at least he waits for it as well.]
It is, but it's still in a state of disaster. Decorating, moving... Geralt's building himself a bloody bed instead of letting me buy one, for whatever reason. [That answers the question well enough.] The poor dear, Geralt couldn't suffer to be without me. So yes, we remain together. Though he's finally got his own room now.
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[ Rhy laughs, trying to scoop Mog up into his arms and sit on the edge of the bed with him. ]
I'm so glad to hear you're both doing well.
...'strange happenings' aside. [ He meets Jaskier's eyes, expectant but not pushing. Just since Jaskier had mentioned it, that he should know he's welcome to talk to Rhy if he wants to, and that Rhy will lend an ear. ]
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He laughs to himself behind a hand, Mog's tail flopping over both their laps. Ah. He had a feeling.]
Feeling nosy today, are we? [His fingers fold together, picking at his cuticle. Even with Julie, who knew his world relatively well, he couldn't explain it all. So he must start simply.] Has the Singularity ever... well, I suppose I don't know if it's the Singularity doing it, really, but it's -- I've had these dreams that I leave here, and return home, and the world continues on as it had before... but then I wake, [His fingers curl into a fist.] and I'm back here, and I have scars to prove those memories did happen.
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[ Though Jaskier was the one to mention it first. Rhy waits, leaning his shoulder against Jaskier's.
A crease appears between his brows. ]
That's... never happened to me, no.
Dreams that are memories? That leave scars?
[ He scoots back just enough to get a better look at Jaskier this time, concern in his eyes, automatically checking for wounds that probably would be hidden beneath his clothes anyway. ]
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[He smiles, but it's a fluttery one; now that he has to go through this again, it's a bit harder to be as easily light as before. But he is determined not to bother Rhy, if only because his friend has plenty to worry about himself.
Jaskier offers his hands, where the fingertips shine under the light unnaturally, the tips scarred. It is not a terrible wound, in the grand scheme of things, but it is terrible because of where it came from.]
I've been in Abraxas a long time. But there was a time it felt like I was back on my own sphere. When I woke, my hands had changed. Not much, of course, but they had undeniably changed. A soreness I wasn't used to settled in, with the memories. And smaller scars elsewhere. [He meets Rhy's eyes as he says it. It's easier now. He's dead. He's dead.] On my sphere, a mage to -- [He swallows. It's. Easier. Now. He's dead.] He wanted information from me. And where I come from, only the basest of men use fire magic to get what they want. Unfortunately, he knew I was a bard. He knew my hands were more important than anything else.
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His eyes widen, and he squeezes Jaskier's hands (gently), fingers trembling. ]
Oh, Jaskier-- That's so awful! I'm sorry you suffered like that. What an atrocious, absolutely horrendous bag of actual shit. [ He bites it out with a cold venom so uncharacteristic of his usual warm, earnest voice. The words shake leaving his throat. ]
Saints... and the scars? [ He feels Jaskier's fingertips beneath his own, the different texture of the new skin. He'd never noticed. ]
Even though you didn't go anywhere? [ Surely if Jaskier actually somehow ended up back home and was Summoned yet again, he wouldn't neglect to mention it. ]
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His laugh is almost silent, but it's there.] He truly was.
[Rience hardly deserves a touch of kindness from anyone; Jaskier hardly cares what led him to doing what he does. Another man who wants power, who wants to please his masters. He leans into Rhy's shoulder, uncurling his fingers in display.] I don't know how to explain it. To me, I was there. Those things happened. Time has passed.
[He can't not believe that, because it's what he needs to make sense of it. They were experiences, pieces of his life.] But when I was there, I suppose... I didn't have memories of being here, either. It's almost -- we have an event that happened in my world, called the Conjunction of the Spheres. It's when several worlds impacted upon each other, joining together to become one. That's what this feels like. As if two separate lives has smashed together, forming one. Forming mine. Without these scars, I might have considered it nothing. But... I know what the touch of flame feels like, for hours of it. I cannot just believe it's a memory only granted to me.
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Rhy puts an arm around his shoulders and hugs him close, pressing his forehead to the side of Jaskier's head. ]
That sounds very confusing and frightening. I'm sorry you went through that.
I only hope sharing it with me has lightened the burden you carry, even if only slightly. Is there anything I can do?
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Just the knowledge he is dead and gone. That no one will remember his name. Another puppet of powers who did not care for him.
Perhaps he was pitiable. Jaskier, however, doesn't give a shite.
He lets Rhy embrace him, rests in the very real warmth of him. It's so good to see him, in a place that is not the Horizon. He knows it's as good as real, but the full knowledge of it isn't. Funny... a bit like these memories, isn't it?]
You're doing all I would've asked for. [He smiles to himself. Skin-to-skin, Mog sleeping peacefully now, and the quiet of a cooled Nocwich inn room is comfort enough.] And you smell delectable. A new cologne, perhaps?
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Maybe it's the shampoo. I started adding almond oil to it. I'm pleased you like it.
[ His lips press to Jaskier's temple. ]
I missed you. I hope your Geralt is treating you well.
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[Most likely it is magic interfering with magic, but he cannot say for sure. What he can say is that Thorne could use more almond trees if it makes their men smell this heavenly.]
I missed you, too. [He wishes he could claim that held true on the Continent, but Jaskier has long come to terms that these two lives are separate somehow. They he cannot even carry memories of Nadine with him -- which hurts more than anything.] He's never treated me well, but you can rest assured he's treating me the same as usual. [He picks his head up to kiss Rhy's lovely cheek back, arms around him. Simply marveling in the touch.] And what of your Kell?
[If Geralt is to be "his," after all.]