Geralt asks, and Jaskier reminds himself to consider it a good thing. He's trying to be better friend, to take interest in him, and the way he phrases the question shows he's been paying attention. He's also doing it because he wants, and it's not everyday that he gets 'wants' out of Geralt. Jaskier can appreciate that much.
"I may prefer the wraith." He mumbles after worrying his lower lip for a couple of seconds. Geralt's comparison, however, gives him an idea for how to phrase the issue in the most direct way. "Let me put it this way: if right now we find two doors, one hiding Yennefer of Vengerberg and the other hiding Count Vincent Horatio Pankratz..." He pulls a face. What a horrible sentence. "And you make me choose one to go through, then-- I'll choose the witch." A pause. "And you can never, ever tell her that I said that."
Keeping his priorities straight, isn't he? But man, it feels good to get that off his chest, to be able to rant about his family non-stop. The dramatic hand gestures return as they make their way upstairs, having another floor to go yet, and Jaskier's mood changes from anxious to frustrated at the world, which is something he deals with better.
"I know you hate nobles, Geralt, so think of all the reasons why you hate them and put them in one arsehole of a man. The 'perfect' quintessential lord by all means - and the 'perfect' quintessential lady, too, my mother wasn't that much better. In fact, I hate most people in that dreadful house." Most, not all. He may go into details about it later, but it's not what Geralt asked for. "They didn't approve of anything I did. Wanting to go out and seek adventure isn't what good little viscounts do. I skipped my fencing classes because I was awful with the sword, unlike my brother the mighty heir, and would hide to play with my grandmother's harp, but that's a lady's hobby." Rolling his eyes at that, his tone deriding. "Tutors were allowed to educate me with canes. Oh, kissing the maid's daughter? It was wrong because she was a commoner, and kissing the maid's son was wrong because he was a boy. My future was decided for me already - I was to marry a nice, rich lady I didn't love and make more little lordlings for them."
By the time they make it to a hallway, Jaskier is stomping. A tantrum may be a little too much, but it's liberating to let it all out.
"I wanted to run away so I-- kind of did. I pretended I would finally behave and convinced my father to send me here to study law or history, paid it all in advance. Except when I arrived, I asked the dean to change me to the arts department. I only returned to the estate once after that, to pick the rest of my things. I haven't seen anyone since then." They make it to the right door, but Jaskier doesn't open it yet. He turns to Geralt, head tilt as blue eyes try to read gold for their thoughts on this whole deal. "Julian Alfred Pankratz died that day. It's Jaskier of Oxenfurt now. Grandmother used to call me 'my buttercup', and I promised her I wouldn't stop singing."
So his name honors her memory. A pause, then a question - tentative, nervous. "...do you think I'm an entitled brat now?"
no subject
"I may prefer the wraith." He mumbles after worrying his lower lip for a couple of seconds. Geralt's comparison, however, gives him an idea for how to phrase the issue in the most direct way. "Let me put it this way: if right now we find two doors, one hiding Yennefer of Vengerberg and the other hiding Count Vincent Horatio Pankratz..." He pulls a face. What a horrible sentence. "And you make me choose one to go through, then-- I'll choose the witch." A pause. "And you can never, ever tell her that I said that."
Keeping his priorities straight, isn't he? But man, it feels good to get that off his chest, to be able to rant about his family non-stop. The dramatic hand gestures return as they make their way upstairs, having another floor to go yet, and Jaskier's mood changes from anxious to frustrated at the world, which is something he deals with better.
"I know you hate nobles, Geralt, so think of all the reasons why you hate them and put them in one arsehole of a man. The 'perfect' quintessential lord by all means - and the 'perfect' quintessential lady, too, my mother wasn't that much better. In fact, I hate most people in that dreadful house." Most, not all. He may go into details about it later, but it's not what Geralt asked for. "They didn't approve of anything I did. Wanting to go out and seek adventure isn't what good little viscounts do. I skipped my fencing classes because I was awful with the sword, unlike my brother the mighty heir, and would hide to play with my grandmother's harp, but that's a lady's hobby." Rolling his eyes at that, his tone deriding. "Tutors were allowed to educate me with canes. Oh, kissing the maid's daughter? It was wrong because she was a commoner, and kissing the maid's son was wrong because he was a boy. My future was decided for me already - I was to marry a nice, rich lady I didn't love and make more little lordlings for them."
By the time they make it to a hallway, Jaskier is stomping. A tantrum may be a little too much, but it's liberating to let it all out.
"I wanted to run away so I-- kind of did. I pretended I would finally behave and convinced my father to send me here to study law or history, paid it all in advance. Except when I arrived, I asked the dean to change me to the arts department. I only returned to the estate once after that, to pick the rest of my things. I haven't seen anyone since then." They make it to the right door, but Jaskier doesn't open it yet. He turns to Geralt, head tilt as blue eyes try to read gold for their thoughts on this whole deal. "Julian Alfred Pankratz died that day. It's Jaskier of Oxenfurt now. Grandmother used to call me 'my buttercup', and I promised her I wouldn't stop singing."
So his name honors her memory. A pause, then a question - tentative, nervous. "...do you think I'm an entitled brat now?"