[In some uncertain terms, things by the middle of winter have reached a level of "nearly normal." Geralt is home, Ciri does not appear merely as a dark cloud ready to throttle the world with a clap of thunder, and Jaskier was, well.
He was fine. He was performing again, forcing himself back into the taverns that he so loves and longs for. And making coin again, after nearly draining what they'd had just to keep themselves fed. If there was anything Jaskier was particularly good at, it was not showing anything was wrong when he was performing.
Obviously.
He takes his bow at the end of his set with a,] Thank you, thank you! You're all beautiful. Oh, you, especially. [A flourish, a wink at a pretty blonde in the front, and then his boots clod down from the stage.
Nearly to collide him with -- oh. The rubbish man. He blinks, momentarily caught off guard not by the offering of coin (he is a bard, after all) but that it's... repayment. For kindness.
Whew. He really must've been drinking that night --
With a gasp, he steps back and takes him in.] Holy shit, you actually listened to me? [Oh, that was a bit pathetic sounding, even if his surprise is genuine.] Look at this improvement! This... this glow! You look incredible, can I say? And --
[A gift! He's going to cry. Okay, not really; he takes it without even a pause, placing it, perfectly tilted, on top of his head, where little wisps of brown bangs peek out from under the brim. He takes the coins, too. Thanks. Yoink.] My dear man, whoever your dean is, you needn't listen to his terrible words. This feather is perfectly jaunty. I do, in fact, love it.
[ castiel’s genuinely baffled at first, his feather capped head angling to the side with a confused frown. ]
Was I not supposed to?
[ quickly forgotten with the exclaimed approval, a small grin sneaks onto his face despite himself. cas ducks his head, spreading his arms out slightly and ducking his head to glance down over his outfit. such enthusiastic compliments aren't a thing he's accustomed to, but pride swells in him for a job well done. ]
Well, you gave very clear instructions, the tailors assured me they'd followed them as precisely as possible.
[ it's another personal victory when jaskier clearly approves of the hat, cas taking note of the angle it's meant to sit on his head and filing that information away for future haberdashery endeavors. yet it sits uneasy with him to have dean known to someone as a man with terrible words, cas giving a muted shake of his head. ]
Dean just has strong opinions, he doesn't mean them to be terrible. [ it occurs to cas that he never gave this man his name, and offers it now, hand stretched out for the customary human shaking as an afterthought, nearly forgotten. ] I'm Castiel.
He's not sure how much he can speak for his new friend's talents, as they seem to be taking things far too literally, cat companionship, and... well, following advice isn't necessarily a bad one to have. Though, gods, he's not sure who told him to go with beige of all things. It completely washes out his complexion.
Jaskier takes his hand, bending to kiss the back of it. Now that he doesn't look like a man crawling through garbage -- and one who knows how to make coin -- he's worthy of a bit of flourish.] Jaskier. But you already knew that. [He stands back up, and like a true expert, the hat neither tilts nor falls.] He must be your friend, for you to defend his -- tastes. What is he dean of, exactly? One of the academies here?
[He has a lot of questions for any dean that would let their friend wander around at night, alone, with cats and rubbish.]
Thus far you're the only one who's volunteered it.
[ not that much competition in that category, but cas hasn't been seeking it out either. jaskier was just conveniently outspoken on the topic before cas acquired funds for something other than the welcoming uniform Cadens provided.
regardless, the costume does boost his sense of immersion, and he's noticed the townsfolk aren't giving him such a wide berth in the streets anymore. jaskier might've been onto something about the whole homeless chic look (and need for a bath).
eyes a flutter of confused blinking, he's curious about the kiss to the back of his hand, not a greeting he's received much, or at all, and pauses to stare down at the spot Jaskier's just smooched. cultural thing, probably, either in the free cities or jaskier's world, but now he's worried it's a note he's missed in greeting others here. it's filed away to ponder over later, attention snagged by dean's new academic authority. ]
Ah, no no, Dean's his name, not title. [ maybe if it were a school on monster hunting, or pre-80s classic rock, or cheeseburgers, he'd be qualified, but otherwise, unlikely. ] Dean Winchester. We arrived together from the same world, he's a dear friend.
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cointosser) wrote2021-04-12 08:58 pm
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He was fine. He was performing again, forcing himself back into the taverns that he so loves and longs for. And making coin again, after nearly draining what they'd had just to keep themselves fed. If there was anything Jaskier was particularly good at, it was not showing anything was wrong when he was performing.
Obviously.
He takes his bow at the end of his set with a,] Thank you, thank you! You're all beautiful. Oh, you, especially. [A flourish, a wink at a pretty blonde in the front, and then his boots clod down from the stage.
Nearly to collide him with -- oh. The rubbish man. He blinks, momentarily caught off guard not by the offering of coin (he is a bard, after all) but that it's... repayment. For kindness.
Whew. He really must've been drinking that night --
With a gasp, he steps back and takes him in.] Holy shit, you actually listened to me? [Oh, that was a bit pathetic sounding, even if his surprise is genuine.] Look at this improvement! This... this glow! You look incredible, can I say? And --
[A gift! He's going to cry. Okay, not really; he takes it without even a pause, placing it, perfectly tilted, on top of his head, where little wisps of brown bangs peek out from under the brim. He takes the coins, too. Thanks. Yoink.] My dear man, whoever your dean is, you needn't listen to his terrible words. This feather is perfectly jaunty. I do, in fact, love it.
no subject
Was I not supposed to?
[ quickly forgotten with the exclaimed approval, a small grin sneaks onto his face despite himself. cas ducks his head, spreading his arms out slightly and ducking his head to glance down over his outfit. such enthusiastic compliments aren't a thing he's accustomed to, but pride swells in him for a job well done. ]
Well, you gave very clear instructions, the tailors assured me they'd followed them as precisely as possible.
[ it's another personal victory when jaskier clearly approves of the hat, cas taking note of the angle it's meant to sit on his head and filing that information away for future haberdashery endeavors. yet it sits uneasy with him to have dean known to someone as a man with terrible words, cas giving a muted shake of his head. ]
Dean just has strong opinions, he doesn't mean them to be terrible. [ it occurs to cas that he never gave this man his name, and offers it now, hand stretched out for the customary human shaking as an afterthought, nearly forgotten. ] I'm Castiel.
no subject
Talent.
He's not sure how much he can speak for his new friend's talents, as they seem to be taking things far too literally, cat companionship, and... well, following advice isn't necessarily a bad one to have. Though, gods, he's not sure who told him to go with beige of all things. It completely washes out his complexion.
Jaskier takes his hand, bending to kiss the back of it. Now that he doesn't look like a man crawling through garbage -- and one who knows how to make coin -- he's worthy of a bit of flourish.] Jaskier. But you already knew that. [He stands back up, and like a true expert, the hat neither tilts nor falls.] He must be your friend, for you to defend his -- tastes. What is he dean of, exactly? One of the academies here?
[He has a lot of questions for any dean that would let their friend wander around at night, alone, with cats and rubbish.]
no subject
[ not that much competition in that category, but cas hasn't been seeking it out either. jaskier was just conveniently outspoken on the topic before cas acquired funds for something other than the welcoming uniform Cadens provided.
regardless, the costume does boost his sense of immersion, and he's noticed the townsfolk aren't giving him such a wide berth in the streets anymore. jaskier might've been onto something about the whole homeless chic look (and need for a bath).
eyes a flutter of confused blinking, he's curious about the kiss to the back of his hand, not a greeting he's received much, or at all, and pauses to stare down at the spot Jaskier's just smooched. cultural thing, probably, either in the free cities or jaskier's world, but now he's worried it's a note he's missed in greeting others here. it's filed away to ponder over later, attention snagged by dean's new academic authority. ]
Ah, no no, Dean's his name, not title. [ maybe if it were a school on monster hunting, or pre-80s classic rock, or cheeseburgers, he'd be qualified, but otherwise, unlikely. ] Dean Winchester. We arrived together from the same world, he's a dear friend.