"Payment for a contract." Jaskier repeats with obvious skepticism in his voice, eyebrows raised as well. "And you accepted it."
There must be servants in a place like this, he imagines. Tons of things to be in charge of when managing an estate. It's not an image that Jaskier can link to fucking Geralt of Rivia, in all honestly - but then again, everything seems to be covered by this layered of wrongness around here. Perhaps he needs to start getting used to it.
Toussaint. Fuck, that's incredibly far from Redania. But what would he get out of arriving to Oxenfurt anyway? The same madness? More not-strangers acting like they knew him and calling him the wrong name? Can't be worse than being stuck with a weird version of Geralt, he supposes.
A Geralt that is trying to make conversation.
Cornflower blues glance at him, unsure of what to make of this. It's what he's always wanted, part of him says. It's too late, the other replies. And judging from the few clues he has so far, well - if there's a notGeralt, does that mean he knows these things because there is a notJaskier as well? It can't be - because then it would mean there's a bard out there who didn't take care of Geralt's wounds.
Then again, maybe that's not a bad thing after all. It means that notJaskier isn't a fool.
"It's Jaskier. Yes, as in buttercup." He huffs, internally being thankful for having something to concentrate all these frustrated feelings on. "A name that has no trouble being taken seriously, thank you very much!" A bit of the dramatics make their appearance then: the tone is raised a little, a finger is wagged for a couple of seconds before it goes back to holding the strap of the lute case so tightly, knuckles on both hands are almost white. It's not much, but boy, does it help.
Another typical gesture of his shows up right after: the tip of his tongue peeking out between his lips, showing he's concentrating on the mess that is his mind at the moment. He has so many questions about this notGeralt - questions related to this mystery, of course, but also just questions that want to make their way out simply because this guy seems to actually be willing to answer them, which is crazy in itself. But he shouldn't be caring! He can't allow himself to fall for it again!
"The witch that opened the portal-" He finally starts explaining, thinking that sticking to hard facts will distracting from... pretty much everything else. A safe topic, if you will. "-I think she sent me here on purpose. She said Oxenfurt isn't what I need right now."
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There must be servants in a place like this, he imagines. Tons of things to be in charge of when managing an estate. It's not an image that Jaskier can link to fucking Geralt of Rivia, in all honestly - but then again, everything seems to be covered by this layered of wrongness around here. Perhaps he needs to start getting used to it.
Toussaint. Fuck, that's incredibly far from Redania. But what would he get out of arriving to Oxenfurt anyway? The same madness? More not-strangers acting like they knew him and calling him the wrong name? Can't be worse than being stuck with a weird version of Geralt, he supposes.
A Geralt that is trying to make conversation.
Cornflower blues glance at him, unsure of what to make of this. It's what he's always wanted, part of him says. It's too late, the other replies. And judging from the few clues he has so far, well - if there's a notGeralt, does that mean he knows these things because there is a notJaskier as well? It can't be - because then it would mean there's a bard out there who didn't take care of Geralt's wounds.
Then again, maybe that's not a bad thing after all. It means that notJaskier isn't a fool.
"It's Jaskier. Yes, as in buttercup." He huffs, internally being thankful for having something to concentrate all these frustrated feelings on. "A name that has no trouble being taken seriously, thank you very much!" A bit of the dramatics make their appearance then: the tone is raised a little, a finger is wagged for a couple of seconds before it goes back to holding the strap of the lute case so tightly, knuckles on both hands are almost white. It's not much, but boy, does it help.
Another typical gesture of his shows up right after: the tip of his tongue peeking out between his lips, showing he's concentrating on the mess that is his mind at the moment. He has so many questions about this notGeralt - questions related to this mystery, of course, but also just questions that want to make their way out simply because this guy seems to actually be willing to answer them, which is crazy in itself. But he shouldn't be caring! He can't allow himself to fall for it again!
"The witch that opened the portal-" He finally starts explaining, thinking that sticking to hard facts will distracting from... pretty much everything else. A safe topic, if you will. "-I think she sent me here on purpose. She said Oxenfurt isn't what I need right now."