[ It's true. Dean, Yen, Sam—they have all assured him the same. Time is what he needs, and they've plenty of that these days. And yet, he can't ignore Ciri's pain. She's the reason he continues to try, reaching and reaching to see what he can find in the depths.
A small smile curves his lips. Jaskier hops and bounces like a bird. Geralt, meanwhile, wears his shroud like armour, the shape of the wolf draped around him. He supposes he could remove it, and often he has, but for now—he feels comfortable in the illusory skin. ]
Who says I can stand you? [ Mm. Well. He did, just now, a second ago. He glances up at the sun, over to the running stream. He does not need to fish. They've plenty to eat for supper. The land is a bounty for those such as them.
But. He could use something to do.
He rises, finally lowering the hood of his cloak. The ears and snout melt away, though the fur of the cloak remains, trailing behind him. From a distance, it resembles a giant wolf's tail. ]
A challenge then. [ His eyes glint. ] I'll catch. And you see how many you can steal.
[If there ever was a time he doubted such a thing, it no longer rings in his memory. They have been with each other the same way the sun and moon have -- chasing and meeting and inevitable. It all suits them, if you ask him. The meeting of winter and spring.
Though you'd be hard-pressed to think of winter associated with Geralt but for his white hair, surrounded by all this lush forest. Sometimes Jaskier thinks he got it from him. Stole a bit of his motif.
Jaskier hops up, a brightness surrounded him like the sun has crept its way through the tree boughs.] Perfect! There is absolutely no way you'll win. By the way -- if I do win, what do I get? It has to be very good, you know, to hold my attention.
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A small smile curves his lips. Jaskier hops and bounces like a bird. Geralt, meanwhile, wears his shroud like armour, the shape of the wolf draped around him. He supposes he could remove it, and often he has, but for now—he feels comfortable in the illusory skin. ]
Who says I can stand you? [ Mm. Well. He did, just now, a second ago. He glances up at the sun, over to the running stream. He does not need to fish. They've plenty to eat for supper. The land is a bounty for those such as them.
But. He could use something to do.
He rises, finally lowering the hood of his cloak. The ears and snout melt away, though the fur of the cloak remains, trailing behind him. From a distance, it resembles a giant wolf's tail. ]
A challenge then. [ His eyes glint. ] I'll catch. And you see how many you can steal.
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[If there ever was a time he doubted such a thing, it no longer rings in his memory. They have been with each other the same way the sun and moon have -- chasing and meeting and inevitable. It all suits them, if you ask him. The meeting of winter and spring.
Though you'd be hard-pressed to think of winter associated with Geralt but for his white hair, surrounded by all this lush forest. Sometimes Jaskier thinks he got it from him. Stole a bit of his motif.
Jaskier hops up, a brightness surrounded him like the sun has crept its way through the tree boughs.] Perfect! There is absolutely no way you'll win. By the way -- if I do win, what do I get? It has to be very good, you know, to hold my attention.