"This isn't adventuring, Jaskier. There is no comfortable inn waiting for you at the end, with silk sheets and fine wine."
There's just a witchers' keep, with its cold hallways and drafty rooms, its beds kept warm by furs instead of lovely silks. And Jaskier would be expected to put in work, as well, towards the general upkeep of the place; that means hauling firewood, or mucking out stalls, or doing some other kind of physical labor. Jaskier would hate doing physical labor.
"You won't be turned away, though, if I vouch for you."
Which is as close to a yes as anyone would ever get, probably.
Geralt frowns, the furrow returning to his brow. If he keeps doing that, he'll probably get wrinkles on day.
"Did you meet Ciri, when you were at court in Cintra?"
A little bit of a topic switch, but Geralt's main focus now must always be his child surprise. She's his daughter, in every sense but the purely biological. She has no other family to speak of but him, and he's only hers because of the law of surprise. Hardly the best way to get a father-figure.
"She is..." Having a hard time, he might say. Screaming in the night from terrors that Geralt doesn't know what the fuck to do about, he might say if he's honest. "She may find comfort in having someone around that she knows."
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There's just a witchers' keep, with its cold hallways and drafty rooms, its beds kept warm by furs instead of lovely silks. And Jaskier would be expected to put in work, as well, towards the general upkeep of the place; that means hauling firewood, or mucking out stalls, or doing some other kind of physical labor. Jaskier would hate doing physical labor.
"You won't be turned away, though, if I vouch for you."
Which is as close to a yes as anyone would ever get, probably.
Geralt frowns, the furrow returning to his brow. If he keeps doing that, he'll probably get wrinkles on day.
"Did you meet Ciri, when you were at court in Cintra?"
A little bit of a topic switch, but Geralt's main focus now must always be his child surprise. She's his daughter, in every sense but the purely biological. She has no other family to speak of but him, and he's only hers because of the law of surprise. Hardly the best way to get a father-figure.
"She is..." Having a hard time, he might say. Screaming in the night from terrors that Geralt doesn't know what the fuck to do about, he might say if he's honest. "She may find comfort in having someone around that she knows."