No reply, huh? (Because that grunt can't be called a reply.) Then it was either a lucky guess or he got it from his daughter, Jaskier thinks. Not so impressing after all, what a disappointment. For a moment there he thought they could have a proper chat about music. Geralt doesn't take the opportunity to insult him again either, though, and Jaskier is more confused than ever.
What is the deal with this guy anyway?
"I'd image they don't - they are poisonous after all. And you know better, don't you, boy?"
It's what made him choose buttercups over dandelions when choosing his name, a little extra fact that always takes everyone by surprise. As romantic and pretty as having a flower name is, Jaskier likes that extra layer of meaning behind it - he's not only softness and poetry, he's also got a silver tongue to go with it.
Geralt doesn't need to worry, though, Jaskier only braids a couple more flowers in Pegasus' mane before he's ready to go. While wouldn't mind staying here and write and just enjoy the sunset, he does want to finish the trip through the trails. A picture of his braiding work later, Jaskier is back on the horse, one last buttercup in his hand...
Which he puts behind Geralt's ear when he comes close enough to lean in and reach it. It's a quick moment, a mere brush of skin, a better look into yellow eyes (oh, how dare he have such eyes) before he pulls back - and in seconds he's gone, taking Pegasus deeper into the flower bed as he recites a new poem, no interruptions this time.
"The warm sun kissed the Earth to consecrate thy birth, and from his close embrace thy radiant face sprang into sight, a blossoming delight." He takes two more pics, one of the flowers and one selfie, before moving along. "I could recite poetry to this sight all day long. Your daughter is incredibly lucky to have such beauty as her own garden."
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What is the deal with this guy anyway?
"I'd image they don't - they are poisonous after all. And you know better, don't you, boy?"
It's what made him choose buttercups over dandelions when choosing his name, a little extra fact that always takes everyone by surprise. As romantic and pretty as having a flower name is, Jaskier likes that extra layer of meaning behind it - he's not only softness and poetry, he's also got a silver tongue to go with it.
Geralt doesn't need to worry, though, Jaskier only braids a couple more flowers in Pegasus' mane before he's ready to go. While wouldn't mind staying here and write and just enjoy the sunset, he does want to finish the trip through the trails. A picture of his braiding work later, Jaskier is back on the horse, one last buttercup in his hand...
Which he puts behind Geralt's ear when he comes close enough to lean in and reach it. It's a quick moment, a mere brush of skin, a better look into yellow eyes (oh, how dare he have such eyes) before he pulls back - and in seconds he's gone, taking Pegasus deeper into the flower bed as he recites a new poem, no interruptions this time.
"The warm sun kissed the Earth to consecrate thy birth, and from his close embrace thy radiant face sprang into sight, a blossoming delight." He takes two more pics, one of the flowers and one selfie, before moving along. "I could recite poetry to this sight all day long. Your daughter is incredibly lucky to have such beauty as her own garden."