( Mindful of the pot on the stove, he drops the heat down to a safe, tolerable low. Something safe to leave to its own devices in favor of joining Jaskier at the table, absently brushing away a light dusting of flower before he plants his elbows on the surface.
Jaskier seems pretty happy to latch onto that change of subject away from himself, and Dean spots it — but he also gets it. He won't push here like he'd do with somebody he knew better. They don't exactly have that kind of dynamic, but he retains the right to worry a little. )
Repairs, mostly. The storms really screwed up a lot of places. Siding, roofing, stuff like that. Me and Gerald are also workin' on putting together a pool table for the Sarstina here and there, but-
( He shrugs a shoulder. That's more of a side thing.
He shovels a too-big bite into his mouth, immediately burns his own tongue, but it's totally worth it. There's a full stop, an incredulous look down at his plate, and a low sound of approval. )
Dude.
( Chef's kiss, my guy. Hell yeah. Depression who? Never heard of her. Ravioli. )
[Oh, yes. Very rugged things. Despite his personal opinions on Dean -- which he has mostly gotten over, as it is hardly an issue with he nor Nadine -- he admits the man has a streak for giving himself over to others. This, so much, doesn't seem like an attempt to make up for something. Simply to help.
The same way Jaskier grew his trees to block the winds, to provide the children with a bit of entertainment.
Unfortunately, he doesn't know shite about building a roof. He left that sort of thing to Alucard.
He squints, a ravioli dangerously close to sliding off his fork where he's speared it.] "Gerald"?
[It's not as bad as "Yenna". Ugh.
Jaskier leans back with a smile. It's as simple as that sometimes. To feel a bit better.] You like it? I can't say I have all the best memories during our -- excursion -- but the knowledge I came back with has improved my cooking exponentially. I think I know... practically every plant that exists, actually. Which is a bit terrifying, as you can imagine.
( That mildly incredulous Gerald earns only a shrug from him. Look man, it's been two and a half years, sometimes he fully forgets that's not even Geralt's real name. Probably for the best that him and Jaskier have never quite clicked, or Jaskier would have a nickname by now, too. If their history is anything to go by, it wouldn't be one Jaskier liked very much.
Like, Jay, or something. Maybe like a John Lennon motif, what with the music and the hair. Robert Plant, because of the plant stuff?
Never mind, not important. Focus on the real half of the conversation. He finishes chewing and swallowing before he speaks, which is the closest thing to table manners he's capable of as a human being. )
This is awesome. I'm jealous. I'd give anything to have something useful stick around from all that. All I got was-
( The knowledge of his own death, and a missing girlfriend. He stops himself. Shakes his head. )
Nothing good.
( His eyes drop to his plate, and he spears into the next bite more slowly, something to focus his gaze and his hands on as he finally broaches the subject. )
If you're in the market for another distraction outside of five-star dining, I might have one for you. If- if you've got the room on your plate. This is not- ( He holds up a gentle hand. ) Not important, so if you're too- you know. No pressure, is what I'm trying to say. I know you're busy, and processing, and we're all- dealing.
[It's for Dean's benefit he doesn't have a nickname. Besides, "Jaskier" is technically his nickname, anyway.
He smiles. Even if this wasn't what he expected for today, it not terrible. Having someone enjoying what he's made -- really enjoying it, apparently -- will keep him motivated, where the muses may have abandoned him.
Temporarily, of course.]
You're the one who came here, wanting to talk. [He gestures for Dean to go on if he wishes.] There was little good to come out of it. But if you don't want to go whatever that is, then spit out what else you have for me. [It's not scathing like it might've been before; now, Jaskier looks eager for more distraction, to be honest.] I didn't think you were a man to hesitate on his requests. And you can hardly pressure me, so. Go on.
[That's just a fact. No one can, really.
If it's enough for Dean to say it isn't important, then it probably is important, but he doesn't want it to seem that way. Jaskier needs something important. Something that makes him feel like he's doing instead of merely existing.]
( Turns out, Dean's absolutely a man to hesitate on his requests. Specifically, if that request is solely for himself and not for the benefit of a friend or family member. He isn't the type to ask for things for selfish reasons, normally, and this... feels selfish. It feels personal.
But it also feels important — important enough to outweigh the guilt he feels for asking.
He digs around in his pocket, and pulls out a very crumpled, weather-worn letter. )
I don't know if you remember this. I was- kind of saving it for something important, and uh... I know it's been probably longer than you really banked on, but I didn't wanna waste it. I think I finally got something worth cashing it in on.
please excuse the late, but I'd love to keep backthreading
[Jaskier's brows raise high enough to hide behind his (rather scruffy now) bangs. He doesn't recognize it until he takes the letter, opening it carefully. He must say, given that Dean does seem quite different than the boisterous, annoying, half-cocked man he's usually encountering, this does feel like there's a weight to the moment.
Hm.
Ah.]
I never forget my offers. What I did assume is that you thought nothing of the prize and threw it away. [He folds it back, as carefully as he unwraps it. He cannot quite describe the emotion in his chest; a failure he blames on his lack of musicality as of late, if nothing else. Years ago. When he was, quite literally, a different man. Even the tone of this note -- he would never write similarly. And certainly he wouldn't bother with a legal statement.]
I was mistaken to think so. [Perhaps that's part of what Geralt sees in him. He doesn't really ask, so. He wouldn't have taken Dean for sentimental beyond his thoughts on free food.
He doesn't like being wrong, exactly, but being alive for centuries puts a certain perspective on things.] I didn't put an expiration date on it for a reason. Whatever you've chosen that has made you finally use it, then undoubtedly it is worth my time.
my guy i'm perpetually late, i'm super down to backthread as long as u are
( There's definitely at least one thing Jaskier's gotten wrong about Dean — he's incredibly sentimental. Probably one of the most sentimental men you're likely to meet. Also, usually only boisterous, annoying, and half-cocked with strangers he doesn't feel comfortable enough with to be serious, and at this point... whether they like each other or not, they do have a history. Enough that Dean can let his guard down and be as sincere as he usually is with people he considers important.
I was mistaken to think so earns a small but real smile — part apologetic, part understanding. Yeah, it's cool. He gets it. He sat on this for a while and never thought to mention that he was saving it.
Anyway, doesn't matter. Here they are, figuring things out as they go. )
I don't know if you remember her, I know you guys met once or twice at least, but... Jo. She's- she came from my world, she's somebody I knew back home. She's- important. To me, and to Cas.
( And to a lot of other people, but there's no reason to go down the list right now. )
She, uh... She didn't come back from the Singularity, after... everything. She's dead back home.
( She went back to die, is what he's saying. Not that the dots need to be any clearer for Jaskier to connect them, just...
That's what he wants to cash it in on. Something for her. )
[Jaskier sits back, crossing his arms over his chest. It feels especially heinous to hear this news first, when he looks like he's been living in the floorboards of a particularly messy bakery and having a complete mental breakdown at the same time (true, but no one should state it.) He would have rather been in his element, with the muses alive and alight upon his shoulders, whispering into his ears, but then --
He isn't sure he would have turned down Dean, having won his favour (singular) fair and square. It was a raffle. But certainly he would have not been happy about it (even if the worm song was well on its way to being a hit.)
Jaskier doesn't think much of reaching to put his hand on top of Dean's.] I'm sorry. [And he is. He will not follow such words with his own losses -- Hector has been gone for years, and Estinien nearly as long, but their absences still feel like open wounds -- but he understands. He understands.
He understands the way he awaits their return to their world. To Geralt's end that has already been foretold. To his hunter friend, who has died a kingdom's worth of land away. The way they have no say in any of it.] I remember. The huntress. The one who ran circles around you. [From what he had seen. There had been times he enjoyed staying in Dean's domain, watching them, and the angel (?), the white-haired hunter with the overly large sword. The way Geralt had found people who understood his life in a way Jaskier simply cannot, because he is not one of them.] I should be honoured to write of her, if that's what you wish. I think... if you have a memory of her -- it needn't be private -- but something to capture the core of her, and you show me that in the Horizon. That should be all I need.
( That hand on his — it earns Jaskier a longer look, lingering, steady and assessing. He's a tactile guy, he's bad at words, bad at communicating how he feels and what he means with speech alone, sometimes. The touch means a lot, and he tries to express that with little knit in his brow and a pained but appreciative smile.
They've all lost a lot, he gets that. Not just recently, but... who they are, all of them, as people — the type they Summon, it seems, are people accustomed to loss. They share that in common — and if they didn't before the summoning, they all certainly get with the program after, as people disappear. )
Yeah, I... I wish that a lot. I think Cas would, too. I haven't told him, I was- kind of hoping to surprise him with it, but... yeah. Whenever you've got the time, I can show you something.
( It won't be a terribly long memory, whenever Jaskier gets around to it, but it will be an intense one. Jo's last one. He'll share it, the thing that's weighing the most heavy on his heart about her leaving this second chance at life. What she's going home to.
He was so much younger. It was so long ago, but now that she's gone... it feels fresh all over again.
He catches Jaskier's hand before it pulls away; gives it one gentle squeeze in turn. )
Thank you. It- this, it means a lot, so. Thank you. Seriously.
[When he does see the memory, it is a rather horrible one. When he meant "it needn't be private," he was a bit hoping it wouldn't be. There is nothing to absorb from the final moments of a person's life beyond the tragedy of it. But she is not the first he has seen die, either.
What he can take from it is that it is a hero's death.
But that will come with time, as he mulls over it, deciding what to write. Now he only pats Dean's hand before pulling back. He can read the expression well enough. Jaskier suspects if he told the man he hardly needs to turn in the ticket for this, Dean would insist.
It is far too close to what Geralt's told him. The fate he may meet if he were to disappear, too.
He means to pull away before the moment is too long, too intimate, but Dean stops him. He smiles. Gods, he should hope no one would ever be so cruel to turn him down, but it's as if Dean was expecting it.] Thank me once you've heard it. You can tell me if it's good enough to honour her memory.
( There are likely better memories he could've picked; ones that Jo would have preferred he show. It's just that his mind's only in one place, it keeps going back to this one thing — that she's gone. That she went home to her death. It feels, in some ways, like he's failed her twice. Like she's died twice, and both times he could've done more, somehow, to prevent it.
But he didn't, and she's gone. And here they are. The end.
The smile he echoes back is smaller, but sincere. Appreciative — but he won't hammer in the gratitude. He's already said it enough for now. )
Hey- man, I've got every faith in you. I've heard your stuff. You're like the Bowie of Abraxas, it'll be great.
( He forces a little chipperness into his tone, a little lightness so the mood's not quite so glum. On that note, he scoops his fork up again, and shovels in another crappy-table-manners sized bite. He wasn't kidding about eating a disgusting amount — he'll fully sit here and plow through at least two bowls before he gets out of Jaskier's hair. )
[Despite the situation, the sound that comes from him is definitely a laugh. Perhaps of disbelief -- perhaps of flattery, even. Perhaps only to lift the mood.]
I assume that's a compliment.
[They both turn to that immediately; a moment of humour, something to alleviate the weight of a life loss. They didn't mingle much, but he does not need to know her well to have seen the affect of her upon them, or her loss.
He wishes he could say time heals these things, because it never does. Not fully. There are scars. And to have lost someone, and gained them again, only for more loss -- what will time ever do to that?]
You know, if you're happy with it, there's plenty more you can take back for your home. Enough to share, even, if you think you can manage.
It's a huge compliment. Remind me to introduce you to Bowie sometime. I think you'd like him.
( He lingers, only a little longer. Long enough to eat. Long enough to keep Jaskier some company, and put a dent in his pierogi and ravioli supply. And yeah, since offered, Dean will totally take some back home with him, because he's not shy about stanning someone else's cooking.
Before he leaves, he gives Jaskier's shoulder one final gentle grip, a silent thank you, and- )
Hey, if you need anything... I know we're not, you know. ( Close, exactly, but. Still. He means this with his whole heart: ) You know where to find me. Any time.
( And when he leaves, it's with a sad smile but a little bit of relief in the grief he's still carrying in his chest. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cointosser) wrote2021-04-12 08:58 pm
no subject
Jaskier seems pretty happy to latch onto that change of subject away from himself, and Dean spots it — but he also gets it. He won't push here like he'd do with somebody he knew better. They don't exactly have that kind of dynamic, but he retains the right to worry a little. )
Repairs, mostly. The storms really screwed up a lot of places. Siding, roofing, stuff like that. Me and Gerald are also workin' on putting together a pool table for the Sarstina here and there, but-
( He shrugs a shoulder. That's more of a side thing.
He shovels a too-big bite into his mouth, immediately burns his own tongue, but it's totally worth it. There's a full stop, an incredulous look down at his plate, and a low sound of approval. )
Dude.
( Chef's kiss, my guy. Hell yeah. Depression who? Never heard of her. Ravioli. )
no subject
The same way Jaskier grew his trees to block the winds, to provide the children with a bit of entertainment.
Unfortunately, he doesn't know shite about building a roof. He left that sort of thing to Alucard.
He squints, a ravioli dangerously close to sliding off his fork where he's speared it.] "Gerald"?
[It's not as bad as "Yenna". Ugh.
Jaskier leans back with a smile. It's as simple as that sometimes. To feel a bit better.] You like it? I can't say I have all the best memories during our -- excursion -- but the knowledge I came back with has improved my cooking exponentially. I think I know... practically every plant that exists, actually. Which is a bit terrifying, as you can imagine.
no subject
Like, Jay, or something. Maybe like a John Lennon motif, what with the music and the hair. Robert Plant, because of the plant stuff?
Never mind, not important. Focus on the real half of the conversation. He finishes chewing and swallowing before he speaks, which is the closest thing to table manners he's capable of as a human being. )
This is awesome. I'm jealous. I'd give anything to have something useful stick around from all that. All I got was-
( The knowledge of his own death, and a missing girlfriend. He stops himself. Shakes his head. )
Nothing good.
( His eyes drop to his plate, and he spears into the next bite more slowly, something to focus his gaze and his hands on as he finally broaches the subject. )
If you're in the market for another distraction outside of five-star dining, I might have one for you. If- if you've got the room on your plate. This is not- ( He holds up a gentle hand. ) Not important, so if you're too- you know. No pressure, is what I'm trying to say. I know you're busy, and processing, and we're all- dealing.
no subject
He smiles. Even if this wasn't what he expected for today, it not terrible. Having someone enjoying what he's made -- really enjoying it, apparently -- will keep him motivated, where the muses may have abandoned him.
Temporarily, of course.]
You're the one who came here, wanting to talk. [He gestures for Dean to go on if he wishes.] There was little good to come out of it. But if you don't want to go whatever that is, then spit out what else you have for me. [It's not scathing like it might've been before; now, Jaskier looks eager for more distraction, to be honest.] I didn't think you were a man to hesitate on his requests. And you can hardly pressure me, so. Go on.
[That's just a fact. No one can, really.
If it's enough for Dean to say it isn't important, then it probably is important, but he doesn't want it to seem that way. Jaskier needs something important. Something that makes him feel like he's doing instead of merely existing.]
no subject
But it also feels important — important enough to outweigh the guilt he feels for asking.
He digs around in his pocket, and pulls out a very crumpled, weather-worn letter. )
I don't know if you remember this. I was- kind of saving it for something important, and uh... I know it's been probably longer than you really banked on, but I didn't wanna waste it. I think I finally got something worth cashing it in on.
please excuse the late, but I'd love to keep backthreading
Hm.
Ah.]
I never forget my offers. What I did assume is that you thought nothing of the prize and threw it away. [He folds it back, as carefully as he unwraps it. He cannot quite describe the emotion in his chest; a failure he blames on his lack of musicality as of late, if nothing else. Years ago. When he was, quite literally, a different man. Even the tone of this note -- he would never write similarly. And certainly he wouldn't bother with a legal statement.]
I was mistaken to think so. [Perhaps that's part of what Geralt sees in him. He doesn't really ask, so. He wouldn't have taken Dean for sentimental beyond his thoughts on free food.
He doesn't like being wrong, exactly, but being alive for centuries puts a certain perspective on things.] I didn't put an expiration date on it for a reason. Whatever you've chosen that has made you finally use it, then undoubtedly it is worth my time.
my guy i'm perpetually late, i'm super down to backthread as long as u are
I was mistaken to think so earns a small but real smile — part apologetic, part understanding. Yeah, it's cool. He gets it. He sat on this for a while and never thought to mention that he was saving it.
Anyway, doesn't matter. Here they are, figuring things out as they go. )
I don't know if you remember her, I know you guys met once or twice at least, but... Jo. She's- she came from my world, she's somebody I knew back home. She's- important. To me, and to Cas.
( And to a lot of other people, but there's no reason to go down the list right now. )
She, uh... She didn't come back from the Singularity, after... everything. She's dead back home.
( She went back to die, is what he's saying. Not that the dots need to be any clearer for Jaskier to connect them, just...
That's what he wants to cash it in on. Something for her. )
hellaaaa
He isn't sure he would have turned down Dean, having won his favour (singular) fair and square. It was a raffle. But certainly he would have not been happy about it (even if the worm song was well on its way to being a hit.)
Jaskier doesn't think much of reaching to put his hand on top of Dean's.] I'm sorry. [And he is. He will not follow such words with his own losses -- Hector has been gone for years, and Estinien nearly as long, but their absences still feel like open wounds -- but he understands. He understands.
He understands the way he awaits their return to their world. To Geralt's end that has already been foretold. To his hunter friend, who has died a kingdom's worth of land away. The way they have no say in any of it.] I remember. The huntress. The one who ran circles around you. [From what he had seen. There had been times he enjoyed staying in Dean's domain, watching them, and the angel (?), the white-haired hunter with the overly large sword. The way Geralt had found people who understood his life in a way Jaskier simply cannot, because he is not one of them.] I should be honoured to write of her, if that's what you wish. I think... if you have a memory of her -- it needn't be private -- but something to capture the core of her, and you show me that in the Horizon. That should be all I need.
no subject
They've all lost a lot, he gets that. Not just recently, but... who they are, all of them, as people — the type they Summon, it seems, are people accustomed to loss. They share that in common — and if they didn't before the summoning, they all certainly get with the program after, as people disappear. )
Yeah, I... I wish that a lot. I think Cas would, too. I haven't told him, I was- kind of hoping to surprise him with it, but... yeah. Whenever you've got the time, I can show you something.
( It won't be a terribly long memory, whenever Jaskier gets around to it, but it will be an intense one. Jo's last one. He'll share it, the thing that's weighing the most heavy on his heart about her leaving this second chance at life. What she's going home to.
He was so much younger. It was so long ago, but now that she's gone... it feels fresh all over again.
He catches Jaskier's hand before it pulls away; gives it one gentle squeeze in turn. )
Thank you. It- this, it means a lot, so. Thank you. Seriously.
no subject
What he can take from it is that it is a hero's death.
But that will come with time, as he mulls over it, deciding what to write. Now he only pats Dean's hand before pulling back. He can read the expression well enough. Jaskier suspects if he told the man he hardly needs to turn in the ticket for this, Dean would insist.
It is far too close to what Geralt's told him. The fate he may meet if he were to disappear, too.
He means to pull away before the moment is too long, too intimate, but Dean stops him. He smiles. Gods, he should hope no one would ever be so cruel to turn him down, but it's as if Dean was expecting it.] Thank me once you've heard it. You can tell me if it's good enough to honour her memory.
no subject
But he didn't, and she's gone. And here they are. The end.
The smile he echoes back is smaller, but sincere. Appreciative — but he won't hammer in the gratitude. He's already said it enough for now. )
Hey- man, I've got every faith in you. I've heard your stuff. You're like the Bowie of Abraxas, it'll be great.
( He forces a little chipperness into his tone, a little lightness so the mood's not quite so glum. On that note, he scoops his fork up again, and shovels in another crappy-table-manners sized bite. He wasn't kidding about eating a disgusting amount — he'll fully sit here and plow through at least two bowls before he gets out of Jaskier's hair. )
no subject
I assume that's a compliment.
[They both turn to that immediately; a moment of humour, something to alleviate the weight of a life loss. They didn't mingle much, but he does not need to know her well to have seen the affect of her upon them, or her loss.
He wishes he could say time heals these things, because it never does. Not fully. There are scars. And to have lost someone, and gained them again, only for more loss -- what will time ever do to that?]
You know, if you're happy with it, there's plenty more you can take back for your home. Enough to share, even, if you think you can manage.
wrapping; thank you for this gift!!
( He lingers, only a little longer. Long enough to eat. Long enough to keep Jaskier some company, and put a dent in his pierogi and ravioli supply. And yeah, since offered, Dean will totally take some back home with him, because he's not shy about stanning someone else's cooking.
Before he leaves, he gives Jaskier's shoulder one final gentle grip, a silent thank you, and- )
Hey, if you need anything... I know we're not, you know. ( Close, exactly, but. Still. He means this with his whole heart: ) You know where to find me. Any time.
( And when he leaves, it's with a sad smile but a little bit of relief in the grief he's still carrying in his chest. )