Geralt is confused by the fact Jaskier has been talking about him, and Priscilla can only think wow, Jask wasn't exaggerating. Curious little man, isn't he? Well, maybe not that little, but the point stands - obviously socializing isn't his thing. The three of them stick out like a sore thumb in a bar like this and she doesn't blame them for hiding in the back, even if she does lament the fact Jaskier will probably not be able to see them from the stage.
At least Geralt's enthusiastic about seeing Jaskier, Priscilla is so telling him about this later.
"Five more minutes," she replies with a grin after checking the time on her phone. "Which means I should hurry back to my table - it's not like you need my sales speech anyway. Thank you for coming." She gives Geralt a meaningful look as she puts a hand on his shoulder - not caring about touching strangers, no wonder she's a friend of Jaskier's. "This will mean a lot to him."
The rest of the gang showers her with questions when she returns, but it doesn't last long: five minutes later, the lights are being lowered and the curtains on the stage are opened. There is a microphone on its stand, a tall stool waiting in front of it and a singer quickly making his way to it with a guitar in his hands.
Jaskier is looking extra as always yet quite different from his usual style - he's a folk-rock singer, and his looks need to match his music. On top of tight dark dress pants and vest, he's wearing a celtic cape, the hood up over carefully tousled hair. There's eyeliner on his eyes, a line of yellow on top of a line of black, and the rest of his face is decorated with an intricated traditional design in blue. This design is painted on his hands as well, which -for once- aren't wearing any rings. There's other jewelry though: a choker on his neck and three earrings on each ear lobe.
So many decorations and yet what stands out the most is still his smile, wide and pleased and simply irradiating pure happiness. His eyes are twinkling as well as he sits down and takes in his audience - all those eyes are on him and he soaks up the attention like a fucking sponge.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen." This isn't his usual cheerful tone of voice - this is deep yet soft, this is hypnotizing the audience with sounds made of velvet, this is making love to their ears with only sounds that come from his throat but also his very soul. "Thank you all for coming. Believe it or not, this is a bloody crowd - in folk-rock standards, ten people already counts as commercial." His audience laughs and Jaskier looks as pleased as a cat that got the cream. "Anyway - I'm Jaskier, and this is Love Run."
The entire performance is done from his spot on the stool, but Jaskier doesn't need to move to have the public wrapped around his talented fingers. He fucking owns the stage and shines in it as if he was born there - when he says that's where he belongs, he means it. With each song that ends another begins, the flow between them smooth as silk, all of them written by him - no cover in sight. And because they were all written by him, it means he knows the emotions that inspired each word and he puts them in his voice, raw and sincere. Blue eyes look at every person in the bar, make them believe he's singing directly to them, enchant them with their intensity. There are some groups in the audience (besides his friends) that are fans of him and sing along to the lyrics - when the time comes when Jaskier exclaims "this isn't a break up dear heart" he pauses and grins when his public happily cries back "it's a season finale!". It's moments like this that fill his heart with adrenaline, his soul with glee and, let's be honest, stroke his ego just right.
He only stands up for the final song, which is performed with no music, only his voice. The guitar is left on the stool, eyes are closed and painted hands grip the microphone stand tightly as the tunes of Elsa's Song start echoing throughout the room.
"♪ And you’ll strew some sage and lilies, and roses where I rot. Of all the flowers you picked, I knew you would forget forget-me-nots. ♪"
The lack of music doesn't make the song any less powerful. There is a couple of seconds of silence when Jaskier is done, only to be followed by thunderous clapping. The bright smile makes a comeback, bigger and brighter than ever, and Jaskier takes a moment to soak it all in before bowing. After thanking everyone again and wishing them all sweet dreams and a good night, he grabs his guitar and disappears backstage, where he raises his arms and yells YES! to the ceiling.
Damn, he feels fucking good. Jaskier swears he could have an orgasm only from the tingling sensation of success running through his body.
When he shows up at the bar seconds later, he hasn't changed, although he did at least leave the guitar behind. His friends hug him and congratulate him on a great performance, they even have a drink ready for him, one of those colorful fruity things he likes so much. He barely gets two sips in before some of his fans approach him but he doesn't mind - the exact opposite in fact: he loves every second of it. Selfies are taken and autographs are signed, and once that's all done, Jaskier turns to the gang to see what are the plans for tonight.
"Waitwaitwait! We aren't done here yet! There's a surprise waiting for you!" Priscilla barely gives Jaskier time to grab his glass before he's dragging him to the back of the bar by his wrist, not caring about the confused looks and all the questions the musician keeps throwing at her. "Ta-daaa~!"
They stop a few steps away from the last tables but even if Priscilla wasn't presenting his surprise with open arms that point in the direction of the right table, Jaskier would've known exactly what she's been meaning with a surprise. Three burly mountain men don't exactly blend in a hipster bar, after all.
Jaskier stares with his mouth open, his free hand reaching up to lower his hood as if that was covering his eyes and making him see things.
That, right there, is Geralt.
Geralt came to his gig.
He's dreaming, right? Or drunk. Or maybe even high. That's gotta be it.
"What are you waiting for, you dummy? Go for it!" Priscilla pushes Jaskier before leaving for her table, which means half of his drink ends up on the floor. But he can't care less about alcohol right now, there's something (someone) waiting for him that makes his heart beat faster than any drug.
"Geralt! You came! I can't believe it!" They're face to face now, with Jaskier standing right in front of the table, but the staring continues... at least until Lambert clears his voice, making Jaskier snap out of it. "Bollocks. Sorry- I mean, hi! You must be Geralt's brothers, right?" The two of them as handsome and fit as Geralt himself, incredible. What kind of family is this? "I love the way you all sit in this corner and brood." Obviously teasing, he winks at them before offering his hand to shake. "I'm Jaskier, buuuuut you probably already know that. Thank you so much for coming. Did you enjoy the show? Have any review for me? Three words or less!"
no subject
At least Geralt's enthusiastic about seeing Jaskier, Priscilla is so telling him about this later.
"Five more minutes," she replies with a grin after checking the time on her phone. "Which means I should hurry back to my table - it's not like you need my sales speech anyway. Thank you for coming." She gives Geralt a meaningful look as she puts a hand on his shoulder - not caring about touching strangers, no wonder she's a friend of Jaskier's. "This will mean a lot to him."
The rest of the gang showers her with questions when she returns, but it doesn't last long: five minutes later, the lights are being lowered and the curtains on the stage are opened. There is a microphone on its stand, a tall stool waiting in front of it and a singer quickly making his way to it with a guitar in his hands.
Jaskier is looking extra as always yet quite different from his usual style - he's a folk-rock singer, and his looks need to match his music. On top of tight dark dress pants and vest, he's wearing a celtic cape, the hood up over carefully tousled hair. There's eyeliner on his eyes, a line of yellow on top of a line of black, and the rest of his face is decorated with an intricated traditional design in blue. This design is painted on his hands as well, which -for once- aren't wearing any rings. There's other jewelry though: a choker on his neck and three earrings on each ear lobe.
So many decorations and yet what stands out the most is still his smile, wide and pleased and simply irradiating pure happiness. His eyes are twinkling as well as he sits down and takes in his audience - all those eyes are on him and he soaks up the attention like a fucking sponge.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen." This isn't his usual cheerful tone of voice - this is deep yet soft, this is hypnotizing the audience with sounds made of velvet, this is making love to their ears with only sounds that come from his throat but also his very soul. "Thank you all for coming. Believe it or not, this is a bloody crowd - in folk-rock standards, ten people already counts as commercial." His audience laughs and Jaskier looks as pleased as a cat that got the cream. "Anyway - I'm Jaskier, and this is Love Run."
The entire performance is done from his spot on the stool, but Jaskier doesn't need to move to have the public wrapped around his talented fingers. He fucking owns the stage and shines in it as if he was born there - when he says that's where he belongs, he means it. With each song that ends another begins, the flow between them smooth as silk, all of them written by him - no cover in sight. And because they were all written by him, it means he knows the emotions that inspired each word and he puts them in his voice, raw and sincere. Blue eyes look at every person in the bar, make them believe he's singing directly to them, enchant them with their intensity. There are some groups in the audience (besides his friends) that are fans of him and sing along to the lyrics - when the time comes when Jaskier exclaims "this isn't a break up dear heart" he pauses and grins when his public happily cries back "it's a season finale!". It's moments like this that fill his heart with adrenaline, his soul with glee and, let's be honest, stroke his ego just right.
He only stands up for the final song, which is performed with no music, only his voice. The guitar is left on the stool, eyes are closed and painted hands grip the microphone stand tightly as the tunes of Elsa's Song start echoing throughout the room.
"♪ And you’ll strew some sage and lilies, and roses where I rot. Of all the flowers you picked, I knew you would forget forget-me-nots. ♪"
The lack of music doesn't make the song any less powerful. There is a couple of seconds of silence when Jaskier is done, only to be followed by thunderous clapping. The bright smile makes a comeback, bigger and brighter than ever, and Jaskier takes a moment to soak it all in before bowing. After thanking everyone again and wishing them all sweet dreams and a good night, he grabs his guitar and disappears backstage, where he raises his arms and yells YES! to the ceiling.
Damn, he feels fucking good. Jaskier swears he could have an orgasm only from the tingling sensation of success running through his body.
When he shows up at the bar seconds later, he hasn't changed, although he did at least leave the guitar behind. His friends hug him and congratulate him on a great performance, they even have a drink ready for him, one of those colorful fruity things he likes so much. He barely gets two sips in before some of his fans approach him but he doesn't mind - the exact opposite in fact: he loves every second of it. Selfies are taken and autographs are signed, and once that's all done, Jaskier turns to the gang to see what are the plans for tonight.
"Waitwaitwait! We aren't done here yet! There's a surprise waiting for you!" Priscilla barely gives Jaskier time to grab his glass before he's dragging him to the back of the bar by his wrist, not caring about the confused looks and all the questions the musician keeps throwing at her. "Ta-daaa~!"
They stop a few steps away from the last tables but even if Priscilla wasn't presenting his surprise with open arms that point in the direction of the right table, Jaskier would've known exactly what she's been meaning with a surprise. Three burly mountain men don't exactly blend in a hipster bar, after all.
Jaskier stares with his mouth open, his free hand reaching up to lower his hood as if that was covering his eyes and making him see things.
That, right there, is Geralt.
Geralt came to his gig.
He's dreaming, right? Or drunk. Or maybe even high. That's gotta be it.
"What are you waiting for, you dummy? Go for it!" Priscilla pushes Jaskier before leaving for her table, which means half of his drink ends up on the floor. But he can't care less about alcohol right now, there's something (someone) waiting for him that makes his heart beat faster than any drug.
"Geralt! You came! I can't believe it!" They're face to face now, with Jaskier standing right in front of the table, but the staring continues... at least until Lambert clears his voice, making Jaskier snap out of it. "Bollocks. Sorry- I mean, hi! You must be Geralt's brothers, right?" The two of them as handsome and fit as Geralt himself, incredible. What kind of family is this? "I love the way you all sit in this corner and brood." Obviously teasing, he winks at them before offering his hand to shake. "I'm Jaskier, buuuuut you probably already know that. Thank you so much for coming. Did you enjoy the show? Have any review for me? Three words or less!"