Jaskier finishes braiding up Pegasus' mane, and it's... silly, honestly. The flowers are just going to wilt and he'll have to brush them out of his mane by the end of the day. Braids, at least, are practical enough-- it's a good way to keep the mane tidy and free of tangles-- but all of the practicality is undone by the addition of the flowers. It's frivolous, which Geralt thinks probably describes Jaskier in general.
Frivolous.
The musician saddles up again once he's done, walking Pegasus up next to Roach, and Geralt has turned his head to ask him if he's finally ready to keep going when Jaskier's hand reaches out. Geralt jerks back, unused to hands right by his face, but when all's said and done, there's just a buttercup tucked behind his ear. Jaskier's fingers had brushed his cheek when he was pulling back, and the place he touched feels like it's been burned.
Jaskier spurs Pegasus further into the flowers, trotting off among the brightly colored blossoms. Geralt curses under his breath and follows, telling his horse to 'Come on, Roach' as he goes after him. He usually sticks to the trails for a reason-- Jaskier doesn't know where the hell he's going, but if he stuck to the path, it would at least eventually take him back to the ranch. Without someone to guide him, Geralt's fairly certain that he'd wander off into whatever part of nature looked prettiest, and then he'd probably die there or something. Like the city boy he is.
"It's not a garden," he replies, because they're at the foothills of the fucking mountains, not his grandmother's backyard. Or, more likely, his grandmother's cultivated English estate tea garden, considering his poncy rich boy background. Probably doesn't even realize that there are mountain lions and bears and goddamn coyotes out here.
He ought to tell Jaskier to get the fuck back to the trail, but he does know the way through this meadow, and they can catch the trail once they get down through this one and past the stream. It'll technically even cut some time off of their ride, to make up for what Jaskier spent messing around with flowers.
"Stay with me and don't wander off," he says, trotting ahead with Roach. The meadow sloped slightly upwards, a steady but even grade towards the mountains; it leveled off a bit after maybe another twenty minutes of riding, the wildflowers tapering off to tall grasses the closer they got to the stream. This time of year, the water's low and calm enough to easily walk the horses through. As they walk up the banks, the horses step through cattails, through the long, lace-shaped leaves and dusty-pink flowers of rose milkweed. The chokeberry bushes are practically dripping with heavy clusters of delicate white flowers-- might be a lot of berries this summer, if the animals don't get to them first.
They make it back to the ranch just before it starts getting truly dark-- the sun's still sinking low, but it's not quite so late that the horses would have trouble seeing where they're stepping. They rub down the horses and get them put away in their stalls, and Pegasus has been worked hard today, so Geralt gives him a little extra oats for his dinner. Just as a treat, for being good for the city boy.
Once Jaskier gets his things, Geralt walks him back up to the main road, where his ride can pick him up. He's going the same way, and it's best to make sure he doesn't get lost.
"We'll say it's seventy," he says, which is low-balling it, but it's fine. "Call it a first-time discount."
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Frivolous.
The musician saddles up again once he's done, walking Pegasus up next to Roach, and Geralt has turned his head to ask him if he's finally ready to keep going when Jaskier's hand reaches out. Geralt jerks back, unused to hands right by his face, but when all's said and done, there's just a buttercup tucked behind his ear. Jaskier's fingers had brushed his cheek when he was pulling back, and the place he touched feels like it's been burned.
Jaskier spurs Pegasus further into the flowers, trotting off among the brightly colored blossoms. Geralt curses under his breath and follows, telling his horse to 'Come on, Roach' as he goes after him. He usually sticks to the trails for a reason-- Jaskier doesn't know where the hell he's going, but if he stuck to the path, it would at least eventually take him back to the ranch. Without someone to guide him, Geralt's fairly certain that he'd wander off into whatever part of nature looked prettiest, and then he'd probably die there or something. Like the city boy he is.
"It's not a garden," he replies, because they're at the foothills of the fucking mountains, not his grandmother's backyard. Or, more likely, his grandmother's cultivated English estate tea garden, considering his poncy rich boy background. Probably doesn't even realize that there are mountain lions and bears and goddamn coyotes out here.
He ought to tell Jaskier to get the fuck back to the trail, but he does know the way through this meadow, and they can catch the trail once they get down through this one and past the stream. It'll technically even cut some time off of their ride, to make up for what Jaskier spent messing around with flowers.
"Stay with me and don't wander off," he says, trotting ahead with Roach. The meadow sloped slightly upwards, a steady but even grade towards the mountains; it leveled off a bit after maybe another twenty minutes of riding, the wildflowers tapering off to tall grasses the closer they got to the stream. This time of year, the water's low and calm enough to easily walk the horses through. As they walk up the banks, the horses step through cattails, through the long, lace-shaped leaves and dusty-pink flowers of rose milkweed. The chokeberry bushes are practically dripping with heavy clusters of delicate white flowers-- might be a lot of berries this summer, if the animals don't get to them first.
They make it back to the ranch just before it starts getting truly dark-- the sun's still sinking low, but it's not quite so late that the horses would have trouble seeing where they're stepping. They rub down the horses and get them put away in their stalls, and Pegasus has been worked hard today, so Geralt gives him a little extra oats for his dinner. Just as a treat, for being good for the city boy.
Once Jaskier gets his things, Geralt walks him back up to the main road, where his ride can pick him up. He's going the same way, and it's best to make sure he doesn't get lost.
"We'll say it's seventy," he says, which is low-balling it, but it's fine. "Call it a first-time discount."