[It is some surprise when he answers a knocking at his door to expect -- well, he's not sure. Alucard hardly needs to knock anymore. Is it Astarion, perhaps? (With his bloody violin?)]
Nadine?
[Oh. He's always happy to see her, but he answered the door at not his best: there's still flour everywhere, the kitchen is a mess, and he still has a pile of freshly baked bread and no where to take it.
He smooths his hair (feathers) down, a rise of warmth coming to his cheeks. While Jaskier has very little pretension about himself, he does prefer being a bit. Put together.] Come in, love. [The word comes so much easier now, he doesn't even think of it. Mog races over to greet her, the way he always does, rubbing against her legs with a purr.] You look absolutely radiant. You -- [His eyes land on her horns as she steps in.] Decorating with nature now, are we? It's lovely.
[There's something very endearing about catching Jaskier off guard like this. It's not as though Nadine's never seen him disheveled, she's woken up next to him and they've fought together. But there's something very domestic about his state at the moment, with the smell of fresh bread behind him.
It's sweet.
Her eyes go to the fluff of feathers in his hair. Which at first don't strike her as anything noteworthy, it wouldn't be odd for him to have a bunch of feathers caught in his hair. But her hand goes up to her own horns.]
Oh...uh...not intentionally. Just sort of happened. I think it's...you know. Left over.
[She bends to greet Mog properly, smiling fondly down at the animal.]
Sorry I didn't message first, I just really wanted to see you.
[Dawning realization strikes him. Something like nauseousness sweeps through him, leaving a cold trail.] Oh.
[It isn't that he doesn't like it. It's only...
He did not wish for any reminders. Reminders like his burned fingertips. Reminders like this persistent itch in his scalp he cannot get rid of. The sort of thing he isn't letting himself realize.]
Sorry? Why should you ever apologize for wanting to see me? [He takes her basket, like a gentleman, to set it on a side table. But truthfully, he does so to take her in his arms, to hold her tight and lean down to nestle his head against her shoulder. He has to do that again. Lean down, when he once stood up on his toes for her.]
I hope you know what I mean when I say I missed you.
[Because he feels he's had her for so very long, weaving in and out of her life, but... she is here, too, and he could have gone to seen her, but had not. As if some wall held him back.]
I'm sorry about coming by unannounced. I'm never sorry about wanting to see you.
[But he'd made it clear he needed some space and time, and she's had other things to focus her attention on anyhow. Jaskier isn't the only one struggling with a return to reality.]
And I do. I missed you, too.
[It's funny, all these feelings that were also left. Nadine leans into him, tucking her head against his. It isn't as though she feels anything new or different about him, it's only that those feelings now have the weight of centuries. Everything's deepened.
It's not just with him, either. She has all these relationships with people that have grown and strengthened despite little real time having passed. At least they were, overall, positive relationships.]
How are you? Aside from in the middle of a baker's frenzy.
[He scoffs at her apologies; not to be rude, only that they're so ridiculous. He cannot imagine a time when they did not simply drop in to each other's lives. A bit more on a schedule, in the future, but still... he never second-guessed any decision he'd made then, either.
It'd been a lovely way to exist.
Jaskier kisses the top of her head, reluctantly letting her go even if he'd like to stand here and hold her for a few hours. His hand lingers on her arm.]
I'm adjusting. Thus the frenzy. [He has the mind to look a bit embarrassed by all of it.] I'm sorry it's a mess. I've been a mess. It's why I haven't... you know. Been around. [He leads her further in, knowing the kitchen's in an absolute state. At least he's cleaned up all the flour off the floor and tables, but the counters are still overcrowded with pots and pans and ingredients, as well as pasta dough still resting.] I know we're all getting through it, but I have this... this desire in me now, for all the things I had before. And I didn't even bring anything back, but memories and -- well, an extensive knowledge of botany, if you ever want to know the ideal planting season for any garden vegetable.
[Her hand comes up to rest lightly and briefly against his cheek.]
You have nothing to be sorry about. I get it. We...lucked out. It was good for us. I understand that feeling like you've lost all of that...it's a blow.
[It's like losing an entire life, in a way. It might not have been real in a technical sense, but it was perceived as real. The heart and mind accepts it as real. Of course Jaskier would feel the loss of it in both.
She laughs a little, finding a spot to sit that is free of baking matter.]
You're not the only one who came back with a bunch of new plant and planting knowledge. I remember more about soil conditions than I ever could have imagined there is to know.
[She offers a comforting smile.]
And hey, don't knock memories. Everything we lived through...it meant something. Even if we lived through it before we ought to have.
Was it luck? [He asks, only when she's done. If it were any other than Nadine, he might have pulled from the touch. He feels like he's already frayed; he may as well snap soon enough.
But he cannot with her. Nadine is someone he hardly even argues with. Even after eight hundred godsdamn years.] I don't think it was luck. I think it was us.
[That's how he wants to think of it, at least. There's something special about them.
Quickly, he brushes one of the chairs of flour before she sits. Ugh. He may as well do a bit now, while they talk. It's enough to simply... be around. He wets a towel, wiping up his hands first, then the counter.]
Well, we're certainly bound to have the best gardens in the Free Cities. [And not only cacti and wild grasses, thank the gods. Perhaps they can even work on new strains of their herbs.]
No, you are right. It meant much to me. I am only trying to marry that which I am with that which I was -- or will be.
No, it wasn't really luck. But we are fortunate, I guess, that we're us and that we found each other.
[She resists the urge to offer to help, at least for the moment. It's obvious Jaskier has energy he needs to work off. Best to let him work some of it off.
She smiles at his comment about gardens. He's certainly right about that. Between the two of them, they could likely start their own public gardens at this point. And they would be spectacular.]
But speaking as someone who's known you, both in the now and the maybe-then...you're always just you, Jaskier. Brilliant, wonderful, vivacious you. That's just who you are. And that time, that future we got to look into...it will come in its time. Maybe not that exact future, but that's okay.
[It's only so long she can watch him tidying before compelled to help him.]
Here, let me give you a hand, I feel crappy just sitting here while you work.
[He smiles. It's a bit of a relief to hear she agrees -- and, of course, that she piles him with compliments in a way that are so terribly earnest (and he so vulnerable) that he even feels the tips of his ears heat, like he's a boy again.]
You think me vivacious? [He jokes, but it's the first bit of humour that isn't self-deprecating he's found for weeks. Gods, of course she would bring it out of him. He only hadn't wanted to burden her... especially when she had gone through the same as him.
When the wound isn't physical, it feels so much more complicated to deal with.
If he wasn't covered in dust, he would kiss her for it. And he is the wordsmith?] Thank you, Nadine. That does help. [He means it. And that promise of a future -- that's what he wants the most. To have it in the first place.]
You shouldn't! However, I'm quite aware saying it won't stop you. Here. [If she's going to offer; he's done the same in her house, and her office(s). He hands her a towel, wet from the sink, but clean.] You were the same, you know. You were so much you, I instantly recognized you. And we were us -- albeit a bit hornier, with more exhibitionism, but I hardly count that as a bad thing.
[Nadine is glad for something to do, and takes the damp towel to start helping tidy up the chaotic kitchen. More importantly, she's getting some positive reaction from him. If she can lift his spirits even a little...]
And hey, how many people get to know that yes, actually, if we were to get forever together...we'd still be together.
[That's some pretty major validation of their relationship. After eight hundred years, there they were, the same as always. Sometimes together, sometimes apart, but always with each other in spirit.]
But honestly...the whole experience was pretty good for me. It's nice to know that I probably won't go crazy with power.
[Honestly, perhaps the company is enough. And getting the kitchen into a little better shape. Once he'd made a mess of it, it'd stayed a mess -- the prospect of cleaning it all up was too much when baking more afterwards was easier.
He piles up some flour from the counter and scoops it into a bowl. Good enough. It'll be fine once it's baked back into something.]
You know, at one time, such a thing would've been terrifying. [He's fairly sure she knows, considering... well, he isn't the sort to be tied down. They've not spoken of changing their relationship because, he suspects, it works for them both. And it seems to have worked fine 800 years down the line, too. He had not felt tied down, and neither had she. They had their partners, their fun... but they always came together in the end.
He'd called her love. Goddess. In the very clearly literal way, but as a teasing nickname, too. It does give him a new source of amusement to imagine dropping that on her next time they're together. Just to surprise her.
He pauses in his wiping, leaning against the counter.] Were you honestly worried about that? Because of your... past?
[Nadine agrees with a small laugh. She'd been so resistant to even the idea of something casual at first. Now she can't imagine a life without Jaskier as a core part of it.
She sets herself to cleaning, glad to have her hands busy. She watches them now, lips pursed in thought.]
Yeah. It's something I'd worry about. My past and just...him. His influence on me. I know he did things to me, he used magic on me and shared magic with me and I just...would worry that meant I'd end up like him.
[Not that she's ever noticed any real changes. But then again, how could she tell? It's not like she can pinpoint where every ability and power she has came from. Aside from the healing. He'd said that once, his sort of magic couldn't heal.
Just another little push towards becoming a doctor.]
[He's forever thankful he had the fortitude to go straight to her domain after their one night together. That he'd seen an entirely different woman (well, perhaps not entirely) and only been even more intrigued by her, not less. Not to mention how her quiet fall village had attracted him with sights he'd never seen before... and her patience in explaining. It had been an intoxicating combination back then, when he'd felt so effortlessly young compared to now.]
I understand the fear. Not... not specifically, of him, but the fear of you do when you finally obtain power.
[His chaos, when it first manifested, had been like that. And he could hardly have called that power at all.]
But you aren't. [He's sure of that. He was sure before the eight hundred years.] Even if that desire was you and not something he influenced in you... do you not think it is a desire that comes when one feels powerless? It's like being swept up in a tidal wave and being willing to cling to a corpse as long as it keeps you alive. If the Continent taught me anything, it's that everyone has a limit to what darkness they'll turn to when backed into a corner. Or even if you imagine a corner that doesn't exist.
Yeah. They say power corrupts and everything. And...
[Nadine trails off, not needing to explain she's seen that happen. He has too, she's sure. The life he's lived, the world he comes from...she's heard his songs. Jaskier knows all about the corrupting abilities of power.
She smiles, a touch sadly, because he's right. So much of her life she'd felt powerless, that the prospect of changing that...of course it had appealed to her. But she still doesn't know how much was her and how much was Flagg's influence. She'll probably never know, for sure.
Does it even matter anymore?]
You're right about that.
[He's always seen her in a way no one else does, right through to the heart and truth of her. Setting aside her cleaning rag for a moment, she slips beside him and reaches to ruffle his hair and shake the flour and bits of feathers out....]
[If she asks him (and she hasn't, but they have sort of come around to it), it doesn't. It doesn't matter, because she is no longer there, and she is no longer with him. Who is to say who they would be if their circumstances weren't entirely different?
There could be a world where he was not a bard. He could have been a cold-hearted noble, who had servants toiling his fields until they dropped dead, working the vineyards until their feet and hands bled, or the plague took them all.]
It's a terrible power, being right all the time. [His smile at her is an intentional one, but no less sweet for it. She even gets a laugh out of him as flour clouds up around him from where it'd clung to his hair.
He's a mess. But he feels, in the moment, very much like her mess.] What do you say to my cleaning myself up, and we go somewhere a bit less... [Depressing?] Dusty? We both could use the sun.
I think you're just proving your point about being right. Some sun is exactly what we need. Maybe a little window shopping.
[She gives his hair a little ruffle once more, to try and dislodge those stubborn fluffy little feathers. And again they remain just where they are. Huh.
Either way, getting out and a bit of exercise and reconnection with their home city will do them both good. They have vibrant and meaningful lives right here, in this place and this time. People here depend on them and look to them, and it's good to remember that. This, right now, is just the foundation for that potential future.
[He sighs, but it's almost with relief, accompanied by a lift and flopping down of his arms. More flour drifts into the air.] You know exactly what I need.
[He hums into the touch this time, his eyes fluttering closed, chickenskin raising across his arms, lifting his hair at the roots. Oh. There's certainly something to say of how good this felt before, but he swears this feels even more... intimate, as if the touch goes down into his very bones.
He shivers.] You can rest. Surely you know I don't expect you to clean my mess. [He leans (down, now, always down) to kiss her, before slipping off to the bathing room. It's a quick affair, though he still scrubs his body, his nooks, and his hair. It's only when he's trying to get the flour out it he tries again. Pulling them out.
It feels terrible, them being pulled. It's then he has to allow himself to come to a conclusion -- somewhat easier to feel knowing Nadine is in the next room, with her pearl horns. The horns she has not always had, only as long as he's known her.
When he returns to the kitchen, he's cleaned up, though his hair is still wet. He hasn't put his shirt on, but holds it in his hands. He turns it towards her, showing the line of brown-red feathers that flow from the nape of his neck down his back.] They're there, aren't they? The feathers.
Of course you don't expect it. But idle hands get up to mischief. I'd feel really awkward just sitting here not tidying.
[Nadine shoos him off gently, perfectly happy to keep herself busy with cleaning while he washes up and changes. It's soothing. And it's silly, but she likes cleaning his kitchen. It's just something nice that she can do for him.
She's humming one of his songs and wringing out a rag when he returns. At first she thinks he's changed his mind about how to lift their mood at the moment...but she quickly dismisses that idea. The rag is set aside as he turns, and Nadine's brows shoot up in surprise.]
Yeah, they are.
[It's fitting. Nadine approaches, following the line of feathers with her eyes. And they're still in his hair. They're part of his hair. Of course. Like the clumps of moss and small flowers and leaves growing around and on her horns.]
[It's rather nice of everyone to dance around the fact, but maybe he really needed to come to terms with this several weeks ago. But it does, at least, explain why he's been very itchy -- and why he keeps waking up with Mog's beak buried in his head in the mornings.
He realizes now Mog has been trying to preen him.
Gods.]
All right. [He puts on his shirt, smoothing out the sleeves, buttoning his little ivory buttons up. Feathers aren't the worst thing he had. He had a tail. Jaskier personally thinks having a tail would be awful (no offense to tail-havers).
The idea, the term souvenir, it makes him laugh.] And here I thought you were just decorating a little. Well... I suppose I can lean into it. I have been the phoenix for quite a while. [He reaches for one of her horns to touch a flower. A real one, yes, but... he'd thought it was mere accessory.] I like to imagine they fit me as well as yours, love.
I don't have the time or patience to do something like this myself.
[Nadine's idea of decoration is a nice hair comb or a flower tucked into her messy bun. Something that takes her all of two minutes to do. Anything more elaborate...usually Jaskier does it for her.]
And they do suit you. Think of what you can do with them...use magic to make them glittery, or change colors...
[It's perfect for his phoenix theme, really. The ones in his hair give it more volume and thickness. They give him something of a fairy tale air. She's sure there's some folk tale about a phoenix prince somewhere out there.]
[All right, she's got a point. Mostly because he insists he helps her decorate herself when the time calls for it (and oftentimes when it doesn't). Because he enjoys it. And he knows she does as well.
Ah. The imagination on her.]
You're right... that could be fun.
[It's not a sort of magic he's allowed himself delve into, but a phoenix is ever-changing... changing when it is reborn.
And he admits, waking up after that dream felt like a rebirth, in some ways. (Oh, gods. That sounds so terrible.)]
That soft? [He smiles as he takes her hands, ready to lead her about anywhere else.] How soft do you think they'll be against bare skin?
I bet you could think of all kinds of cool things to do, aesthetically.
[He is a born performer, and he certainly knows fashion. If anyone can style and decorate feathers, it's Jaskier.
She chuckles a bit at that, rich and warm, slipping her hands into his and taking a step closer. The intention had been to lift his mood, and there are a lot more ways to do that than going for a walk.
And she is curious.]
Mmmm, we could always skip the window shopping and go find out...
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cointosser) wrote2021-04-12 08:58 pm
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Nadine?
[Oh. He's always happy to see her, but he answered the door at not his best: there's still flour everywhere, the kitchen is a mess, and he still has a pile of freshly baked bread and no where to take it.
He smooths his hair (feathers) down, a rise of warmth coming to his cheeks. While Jaskier has very little pretension about himself, he does prefer being a bit. Put together.] Come in, love. [The word comes so much easier now, he doesn't even think of it. Mog races over to greet her, the way he always does, rubbing against her legs with a purr.] You look absolutely radiant. You -- [His eyes land on her horns as she steps in.] Decorating with nature now, are we? It's lovely.
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It's sweet.
Her eyes go to the fluff of feathers in his hair. Which at first don't strike her as anything noteworthy, it wouldn't be odd for him to have a bunch of feathers caught in his hair. But her hand goes up to her own horns.]
Oh...uh...not intentionally. Just sort of happened. I think it's...you know. Left over.
[She bends to greet Mog properly, smiling fondly down at the animal.]
Sorry I didn't message first, I just really wanted to see you.
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[Dawning realization strikes him. Something like nauseousness sweeps through him, leaving a cold trail.] Oh.
[It isn't that he doesn't like it. It's only...
He did not wish for any reminders. Reminders like his burned fingertips. Reminders like this persistent itch in his scalp he cannot get rid of. The sort of thing he isn't letting himself realize.]
Sorry? Why should you ever apologize for wanting to see me? [He takes her basket, like a gentleman, to set it on a side table. But truthfully, he does so to take her in his arms, to hold her tight and lean down to nestle his head against her shoulder. He has to do that again. Lean down, when he once stood up on his toes for her.]
I hope you know what I mean when I say I missed you.
[Because he feels he's had her for so very long, weaving in and out of her life, but... she is here, too, and he could have gone to seen her, but had not. As if some wall held him back.]
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[But he'd made it clear he needed some space and time, and she's had other things to focus her attention on anyhow. Jaskier isn't the only one struggling with a return to reality.]
And I do. I missed you, too.
[It's funny, all these feelings that were also left. Nadine leans into him, tucking her head against his. It isn't as though she feels anything new or different about him, it's only that those feelings now have the weight of centuries. Everything's deepened.
It's not just with him, either. She has all these relationships with people that have grown and strengthened despite little real time having passed. At least they were, overall, positive relationships.]
How are you? Aside from in the middle of a baker's frenzy.
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It'd been a lovely way to exist.
Jaskier kisses the top of her head, reluctantly letting her go even if he'd like to stand here and hold her for a few hours. His hand lingers on her arm.]
I'm adjusting. Thus the frenzy. [He has the mind to look a bit embarrassed by all of it.] I'm sorry it's a mess. I've been a mess. It's why I haven't... you know. Been around. [He leads her further in, knowing the kitchen's in an absolute state. At least he's cleaned up all the flour off the floor and tables, but the counters are still overcrowded with pots and pans and ingredients, as well as pasta dough still resting.] I know we're all getting through it, but I have this... this desire in me now, for all the things I had before. And I didn't even bring anything back, but memories and -- well, an extensive knowledge of botany, if you ever want to know the ideal planting season for any garden vegetable.
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[Her hand comes up to rest lightly and briefly against his cheek.]
You have nothing to be sorry about. I get it. We...lucked out. It was good for us. I understand that feeling like you've lost all of that...it's a blow.
[It's like losing an entire life, in a way. It might not have been real in a technical sense, but it was perceived as real. The heart and mind accepts it as real. Of course Jaskier would feel the loss of it in both.
She laughs a little, finding a spot to sit that is free of baking matter.]
You're not the only one who came back with a bunch of new plant and planting knowledge. I remember more about soil conditions than I ever could have imagined there is to know.
[She offers a comforting smile.]
And hey, don't knock memories. Everything we lived through...it meant something. Even if we lived through it before we ought to have.
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But he cannot with her. Nadine is someone he hardly even argues with. Even after eight hundred godsdamn years.] I don't think it was luck. I think it was us.
[That's how he wants to think of it, at least. There's something special about them.
Quickly, he brushes one of the chairs of flour before she sits. Ugh. He may as well do a bit now, while they talk. It's enough to simply... be around. He wets a towel, wiping up his hands first, then the counter.]
Well, we're certainly bound to have the best gardens in the Free Cities. [And not only cacti and wild grasses, thank the gods. Perhaps they can even work on new strains of their herbs.]
No, you are right. It meant much to me. I am only trying to marry that which I am with that which I was -- or will be.
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[She resists the urge to offer to help, at least for the moment. It's obvious Jaskier has energy he needs to work off. Best to let him work some of it off.
She smiles at his comment about gardens. He's certainly right about that. Between the two of them, they could likely start their own public gardens at this point. And they would be spectacular.]
But speaking as someone who's known you, both in the now and the maybe-then...you're always just you, Jaskier. Brilliant, wonderful, vivacious you. That's just who you are. And that time, that future we got to look into...it will come in its time. Maybe not that exact future, but that's okay.
[It's only so long she can watch him tidying before compelled to help him.]
Here, let me give you a hand, I feel crappy just sitting here while you work.
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You think me vivacious? [He jokes, but it's the first bit of humour that isn't self-deprecating he's found for weeks. Gods, of course she would bring it out of him. He only hadn't wanted to burden her... especially when she had gone through the same as him.
When the wound isn't physical, it feels so much more complicated to deal with.
If he wasn't covered in dust, he would kiss her for it. And he is the wordsmith?] Thank you, Nadine. That does help. [He means it. And that promise of a future -- that's what he wants the most. To have it in the first place.]
You shouldn't! However, I'm quite aware saying it won't stop you. Here. [If she's going to offer; he's done the same in her house, and her office(s). He hands her a towel, wet from the sink, but clean.] You were the same, you know. You were so much you, I instantly recognized you. And we were us -- albeit a bit hornier, with more exhibitionism, but I hardly count that as a bad thing.
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[Nadine is glad for something to do, and takes the damp towel to start helping tidy up the chaotic kitchen. More importantly, she's getting some positive reaction from him. If she can lift his spirits even a little...]
And hey, how many people get to know that yes, actually, if we were to get forever together...we'd still be together.
[That's some pretty major validation of their relationship. After eight hundred years, there they were, the same as always. Sometimes together, sometimes apart, but always with each other in spirit.]
But honestly...the whole experience was pretty good for me. It's nice to know that I probably won't go crazy with power.
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He piles up some flour from the counter and scoops it into a bowl. Good enough. It'll be fine once it's baked back into something.]
You know, at one time, such a thing would've been terrifying. [He's fairly sure she knows, considering... well, he isn't the sort to be tied down. They've not spoken of changing their relationship because, he suspects, it works for them both. And it seems to have worked fine 800 years down the line, too. He had not felt tied down, and neither had she. They had their partners, their fun... but they always came together in the end.
He'd called her love. Goddess. In the very clearly literal way, but as a teasing nickname, too. It does give him a new source of amusement to imagine dropping that on her next time they're together. Just to surprise her.
He pauses in his wiping, leaning against the counter.] Were you honestly worried about that? Because of your... past?
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[Nadine agrees with a small laugh. She'd been so resistant to even the idea of something casual at first. Now she can't imagine a life without Jaskier as a core part of it.
She sets herself to cleaning, glad to have her hands busy. She watches them now, lips pursed in thought.]
Yeah. It's something I'd worry about. My past and just...him. His influence on me. I know he did things to me, he used magic on me and shared magic with me and I just...would worry that meant I'd end up like him.
[Not that she's ever noticed any real changes. But then again, how could she tell? It's not like she can pinpoint where every ability and power she has came from. Aside from the healing. He'd said that once, his sort of magic couldn't heal.
Just another little push towards becoming a doctor.]
I used to want to be like him.
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I understand the fear. Not... not specifically, of him, but the fear of you do when you finally obtain power.
[His chaos, when it first manifested, had been like that. And he could hardly have called that power at all.]
But you aren't. [He's sure of that. He was sure before the eight hundred years.] Even if that desire was you and not something he influenced in you... do you not think it is a desire that comes when one feels powerless? It's like being swept up in a tidal wave and being willing to cling to a corpse as long as it keeps you alive. If the Continent taught me anything, it's that everyone has a limit to what darkness they'll turn to when backed into a corner. Or even if you imagine a corner that doesn't exist.
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[Nadine trails off, not needing to explain she's seen that happen. He has too, she's sure. The life he's lived, the world he comes from...she's heard his songs. Jaskier knows all about the corrupting abilities of power.
She smiles, a touch sadly, because he's right. So much of her life she'd felt powerless, that the prospect of changing that...of course it had appealed to her. But she still doesn't know how much was her and how much was Flagg's influence. She'll probably never know, for sure.
Does it even matter anymore?]
You're right about that.
[He's always seen her in a way no one else does, right through to the heart and truth of her. Setting aside her cleaning rag for a moment, she slips beside him and reaches to ruffle his hair and shake the flour and bits of feathers out....]
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There could be a world where he was not a bard. He could have been a cold-hearted noble, who had servants toiling his fields until they dropped dead, working the vineyards until their feet and hands bled, or the plague took them all.]
It's a terrible power, being right all the time. [His smile at her is an intentional one, but no less sweet for it. She even gets a laugh out of him as flour clouds up around him from where it'd clung to his hair.
He's a mess. But he feels, in the moment, very much like her mess.] What do you say to my cleaning myself up, and we go somewhere a bit less... [Depressing?] Dusty? We both could use the sun.
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[She gives his hair a little ruffle once more, to try and dislodge those stubborn fluffy little feathers. And again they remain just where they are. Huh.
Either way, getting out and a bit of exercise and reconnection with their home city will do them both good. They have vibrant and meaningful lives right here, in this place and this time. People here depend on them and look to them, and it's good to remember that. This, right now, is just the foundation for that potential future.
And now the journey there will be a real one.]
I'll finish cleaning up in here.
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[He hums into the touch this time, his eyes fluttering closed, chickenskin raising across his arms, lifting his hair at the roots. Oh. There's certainly something to say of how good this felt before, but he swears this feels even more... intimate, as if the touch goes down into his very bones.
He shivers.] You can rest. Surely you know I don't expect you to clean my mess. [He leans (down, now, always down) to kiss her, before slipping off to the bathing room. It's a quick affair, though he still scrubs his body, his nooks, and his hair. It's only when he's trying to get the flour out it he tries again. Pulling them out.
It feels terrible, them being pulled. It's then he has to allow himself to come to a conclusion -- somewhat easier to feel knowing Nadine is in the next room, with her pearl horns. The horns she has not always had, only as long as he's known her.
When he returns to the kitchen, he's cleaned up, though his hair is still wet. He hasn't put his shirt on, but holds it in his hands. He turns it towards her, showing the line of brown-red feathers that flow from the nape of his neck down his back.] They're there, aren't they? The feathers.
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[Nadine shoos him off gently, perfectly happy to keep herself busy with cleaning while he washes up and changes. It's soothing. And it's silly, but she likes cleaning his kitchen. It's just something nice that she can do for him.
She's humming one of his songs and wringing out a rag when he returns. At first she thinks he's changed his mind about how to lift their mood at the moment...but she quickly dismisses that idea. The rag is set aside as he turns, and Nadine's brows shoot up in surprise.]
Yeah, they are.
[It's fitting. Nadine approaches, following the line of feathers with her eyes. And they're still in his hair. They're part of his hair. Of course. Like the clumps of moss and small flowers and leaves growing around and on her horns.]
I guess that's your souvenir.
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He realizes now Mog has been trying to preen him.
Gods.]
All right. [He puts on his shirt, smoothing out the sleeves, buttoning his little ivory buttons up. Feathers aren't the worst thing he had. He had a tail. Jaskier personally thinks having a tail would be awful (no offense to tail-havers).
The idea, the term souvenir, it makes him laugh.] And here I thought you were just decorating a little. Well... I suppose I can lean into it. I have been the phoenix for quite a while. [He reaches for one of her horns to touch a flower. A real one, yes, but... he'd thought it was mere accessory.] I like to imagine they fit me as well as yours, love.
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[Nadine's idea of decoration is a nice hair comb or a flower tucked into her messy bun. Something that takes her all of two minutes to do. Anything more elaborate...usually Jaskier does it for her.]
And they do suit you. Think of what you can do with them...use magic to make them glittery, or change colors...
[It's perfect for his phoenix theme, really. The ones in his hair give it more volume and thickness. They give him something of a fairy tale air. She's sure there's some folk tale about a phoenix prince somewhere out there.]
They're also very, very soft.
🎀ish?
Ah. The imagination on her.]
You're right... that could be fun.
[It's not a sort of magic he's allowed himself delve into, but a phoenix is ever-changing... changing when it is reborn.
And he admits, waking up after that dream felt like a rebirth, in some ways. (Oh, gods. That sounds so terrible.)]
That soft? [He smiles as he takes her hands, ready to lead her about anywhere else.] How soft do you think they'll be against bare skin?
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[He is a born performer, and he certainly knows fashion. If anyone can style and decorate feathers, it's Jaskier.
She chuckles a bit at that, rich and warm, slipping her hands into his and taking a step closer. The intention had been to lift his mood, and there are a lot more ways to do that than going for a walk.
And she is curious.]
Mmmm, we could always skip the window shopping and go find out...