Ah. They did hear him. And their reaction sure is... something.
He holds their curious and confused gazes, not regretting it, no being embarrassed over it. The words were said for Geralt's benefit (a gentle reminder, a point of comfort) but if they serve as a lesson for the other witchers as well, Jaskier will take it, no matter how much his heart hurts to see them so broken at the mere sound of such four-letter word.
Or maybe because of how much it hurts.
Jaskier pats Geralt's thigh when he feels the arm around him tightening (it's fine, we're fine) but he has to laugh (hard, loud and pleased) when he hears that reply to his little anecdote, head thrown back over the witcher's shoulder and everything.
"Aww, you remember!" It's half meaning it half teasing, and he drops a kiss to Geralt's neck again before continuing. "Yes, I did mention those things. I also included onion. So far you've proven me right on all five."
"I wish I could help you with this little disagreement of yours," Eskel interrupts as he crosses his arms on the lip of the bath and rests his chin on it just like Geralt had done some minutes ago, the only difference being the shit-eating grin almost splitting his face. "But we've never gotten the full story of that meeting."
Lambert catches on what Eskel is doing and he hums his approval. The dragonsplaining bomb had been so good, and the witchers are dying to know what other stories Jaskier is hiding in his puffy sleeves. Even Cöen shows interest, knowing less about this than the wolves themselves - every witcher in the Continent is confused as fuck in fact, it feels like a privilege to be here learning about the truth behind this coin tossing business. Their little ruse works like a charm, of course, Jaskier perks up and sits a little straighter, excited to have an audience for his storytelling.
"Oh, it's a tale worth telling a thousand times!" The hand on Geralt's neck leaves so the bard can gesture as much as his dramatic heart desires, but the witcher doesn't need to worry, the other one stays on his thigh. "Picture: a small tavern in Posada, a warm spring day, and the smell of fresh bread out of the oven tickling the noses of the local guests. A young bard, just out of Oxenfurt, finishes a performance that earns him his meal." Sure, that's a way to put it. "A mysterious man drinks his ale, hidden in a dark corner. Blue eyes meet gold across the room and believe me, good sirs, the sparks were already in the air!"
It's hard to tell if these good sirs believe him or not. Lambert's frown shows he definitely doesn't, and Cöen continues to be confused. Eskel, meanwhile, is incredibly amused, having to bite his tongue not to laugh as he keeps glancing at Geralt to check his reaction. Jaskier is fine with all of this - attention is attention, baby.
"Curious and fearless I approached him," and aroused at the sight as well, but he's not including that. "You must have a review for me, I asked! Three words or less!" And it seems he isn't including his awful pick-up line either. "They don't exist, the mysterious man replies, only to clarify the bard's confusion a second later: the creatures in your song!"
Now that makes them laugh. Witchers are too familiar with how fiction (and gossip!) tends to twist the real details - but this is extra funny for Lambert and Eskel, who know what a big monster nerd Geralt is. Jaskier couldn't be more pleased by this reaction.
"It was at that moment that the truth became obvious in my eyes - golden eyes, white hair, two scary looking swords! I had found myself a witcher, and not just any witcher, oh no, it was no other than Geralt of Rivia!" His free hand traces an arc in the air, as if picturing the name in front of him. "Geralt of Rivia himself, leaving to fulfill his next contract, but not without leaving me his last coin!"
He still has that coin, hidden in the little pocket he sewed himself inside his lute case together with the Pankratz crest ring and the silver buttercup brooch gifted to him by the Countess de Stael.
"And that's when you followed him?" Eskel asks, being that the only detail Geralt ever gave him. Jaskier nods.
"And that's when I followed him indeed! A chance to experience real adventure, how could I let the opportunity slip from my calloused grasp?"
"Real adventure. With a witcher," Cöen says next, because nothing said so far has helped his confusion.
"Is that skepticism I hear in your voice~?" He squeezes Geralt's thigh then, a little gesture that works as preemptive comfort. "I suppose I could say something about first impressions... but I also suppose he never told you he punched me."
Lamber laughs once again, but Eskel raises his head and looks at his brother with a shocked face. "You fucking what?"
"Yet you continued to follow," Cöen comments with the same confusion still in his voice.
"To be fair, I did call him Butcher. Not the best way to offer my services as a barker, now is it." Cöen's raised eyebrows tell Jaskier he is still not making any sense. The bard waves his hand, dismissing any doubts any witcher in the other spring may have about his intentions. "You see, real butchers don't mind being called that. I had hurt his feelings -sorry about that by the way, my dear- the feelings of a witcher, who the stories tell are not supposed to have any. I hadn't only found adventure - I had also found myself a puzzle."
And possibly an incredible cock to take to bed, but again, not including that part.
The other witchers have some comments about that, too, not liking being reminded of that little myth around their people. They fall silent, however, when Jaskier's body language suddenly changes: the histrionics instantly disappear, letting his hand fall on top of Geralt's on his waist, and dropping his voice to a more natural conversation tone - he closes his eyes as well as he leans back against Geralt's chest, the memory coming back to him and putting a soft smile on his face.
This? This isn't storytelling - this is sharing.
"You know what happens next - well, you have an idea. We were captured by the elves. And Geralt..." His voice is filled with respect, admiration, awe. "It's been over twenty years, but I still remember his words clearly: leave him, he's just a bard. They shared their struggles with him and he listened, advised them from a place that resonated with them because they shared a common antagonist: bigotted humans." His voice is raised a little bit then, raw with emotion. "He fucking bared his neck to the king of elves without hesitation! It was the bravest, most noble act I'd ever seen in my life - and trust me, I had met my share of knights already by then."
Perhaps not something he should be sharing, considering he just confessed he had been very young back in Posada. Would this give away his noble childhood? Hopefully it doesn't derail the conversation.
"I recognize a muse when I see one," he finishes his story as he turns his head to nuzzle Geralt's neck. "And a bard must always follow his muse."
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He holds their curious and confused gazes, not regretting it, no being embarrassed over it. The words were said for Geralt's benefit (a gentle reminder, a point of comfort) but if they serve as a lesson for the other witchers as well, Jaskier will take it, no matter how much his heart hurts to see them so broken at the mere sound of such four-letter word.
Or maybe because of how much it hurts.
Jaskier pats Geralt's thigh when he feels the arm around him tightening (it's fine, we're fine) but he has to laugh (hard, loud and pleased) when he hears that reply to his little anecdote, head thrown back over the witcher's shoulder and everything.
"Aww, you remember!" It's half meaning it half teasing, and he drops a kiss to Geralt's neck again before continuing. "Yes, I did mention those things. I also included onion. So far you've proven me right on all five."
"I wish I could help you with this little disagreement of yours," Eskel interrupts as he crosses his arms on the lip of the bath and rests his chin on it just like Geralt had done some minutes ago, the only difference being the shit-eating grin almost splitting his face. "But we've never gotten the full story of that meeting."
Lambert catches on what Eskel is doing and he hums his approval. The dragonsplaining bomb had been so good, and the witchers are dying to know what other stories Jaskier is hiding in his puffy sleeves. Even Cöen shows interest, knowing less about this than the wolves themselves - every witcher in the Continent is confused as fuck in fact, it feels like a privilege to be here learning about the truth behind this coin tossing business. Their little ruse works like a charm, of course, Jaskier perks up and sits a little straighter, excited to have an audience for his storytelling.
"Oh, it's a tale worth telling a thousand times!" The hand on Geralt's neck leaves so the bard can gesture as much as his dramatic heart desires, but the witcher doesn't need to worry, the other one stays on his thigh. "Picture: a small tavern in Posada, a warm spring day, and the smell of fresh bread out of the oven tickling the noses of the local guests. A young bard, just out of Oxenfurt, finishes a performance that earns him his meal." Sure, that's a way to put it. "A mysterious man drinks his ale, hidden in a dark corner. Blue eyes meet gold across the room and believe me, good sirs, the sparks were already in the air!"
It's hard to tell if these good sirs believe him or not. Lambert's frown shows he definitely doesn't, and Cöen continues to be confused. Eskel, meanwhile, is incredibly amused, having to bite his tongue not to laugh as he keeps glancing at Geralt to check his reaction. Jaskier is fine with all of this - attention is attention, baby.
"Curious and fearless I approached him," and aroused at the sight as well, but he's not including that. "You must have a review for me, I asked! Three words or less!" And it seems he isn't including his awful pick-up line either. "They don't exist, the mysterious man replies, only to clarify the bard's confusion a second later: the creatures in your song!"
Now that makes them laugh. Witchers are too familiar with how fiction (and gossip!) tends to twist the real details - but this is extra funny for Lambert and Eskel, who know what a big monster nerd Geralt is. Jaskier couldn't be more pleased by this reaction.
"It was at that moment that the truth became obvious in my eyes - golden eyes, white hair, two scary looking swords! I had found myself a witcher, and not just any witcher, oh no, it was no other than Geralt of Rivia!" His free hand traces an arc in the air, as if picturing the name in front of him. "Geralt of Rivia himself, leaving to fulfill his next contract, but not without leaving me his last coin!"
He still has that coin, hidden in the little pocket he sewed himself inside his lute case together with the Pankratz crest ring and the silver buttercup brooch gifted to him by the Countess de Stael.
"And that's when you followed him?" Eskel asks, being that the only detail Geralt ever gave him. Jaskier nods.
"And that's when I followed him indeed! A chance to experience real adventure, how could I let the opportunity slip from my calloused grasp?"
"Real adventure. With a witcher," Cöen says next, because nothing said so far has helped his confusion.
"Is that skepticism I hear in your voice~?" He squeezes Geralt's thigh then, a little gesture that works as preemptive comfort. "I suppose I could say something about first impressions... but I also suppose he never told you he punched me."
Lamber laughs once again, but Eskel raises his head and looks at his brother with a shocked face. "You fucking what?"
"Yet you continued to follow," Cöen comments with the same confusion still in his voice.
"To be fair, I did call him Butcher. Not the best way to offer my services as a barker, now is it." Cöen's raised eyebrows tell Jaskier he is still not making any sense. The bard waves his hand, dismissing any doubts any witcher in the other spring may have about his intentions. "You see, real butchers don't mind being called that. I had hurt his feelings -sorry about that by the way, my dear- the feelings of a witcher, who the stories tell are not supposed to have any. I hadn't only found adventure - I had also found myself a puzzle."
And possibly an incredible cock to take to bed, but again, not including that part.
The other witchers have some comments about that, too, not liking being reminded of that little myth around their people. They fall silent, however, when Jaskier's body language suddenly changes: the histrionics instantly disappear, letting his hand fall on top of Geralt's on his waist, and dropping his voice to a more natural conversation tone - he closes his eyes as well as he leans back against Geralt's chest, the memory coming back to him and putting a soft smile on his face.
This? This isn't storytelling - this is sharing.
"You know what happens next - well, you have an idea. We were captured by the elves. And Geralt..." His voice is filled with respect, admiration, awe. "It's been over twenty years, but I still remember his words clearly: leave him, he's just a bard. They shared their struggles with him and he listened, advised them from a place that resonated with them because they shared a common antagonist: bigotted humans." His voice is raised a little bit then, raw with emotion. "He fucking bared his neck to the king of elves without hesitation! It was the bravest, most noble act I'd ever seen in my life - and trust me, I had met my share of knights already by then."
Perhaps not something he should be sharing, considering he just confessed he had been very young back in Posada. Would this give away his noble childhood? Hopefully it doesn't derail the conversation.
"I recognize a muse when I see one," he finishes his story as he turns his head to nuzzle Geralt's neck. "And a bard must always follow his muse."