"To think I considered you to be an animal virtuoso," he replies when he manages to calm down his laughter a little. "It seems it's not only cats that escape your expertise."
And alright, this may not be the Geralt that broke his heart, but as a poet and a petty little shit, Jaskier can't feel savoring the irony of a peacock biting the witcher's hand that feeds him. A reversal of what happened at home, so to speak.
Jaskier favors peacocks as much as Dandelion does, another thing in common. Many a time he's been called a peacock and every time Jaskier considers a compliment - who can be mad at such beautiful creatures? The Countess de Stael used to have them in her estate as well, Jaskier loved composing under a tree near the flock. They liked it when he sang for them, too.
Hmm.
Geralt retreats and Jaskier does the exact opposite: he approaches the birds with an idea in his mind. He hasn't sung about the White Wolf since he came down the mountain, but considering he's in the middle of teasing the hell out of Geralt... well. He can't help it.
"♪ When a humble bard graced a ride along with Geralt of Rivia, along came this song. ♪" The peacocks raise their heads and stare as Jaskier comes close enough to let them make the final choice to approach him or not. "♪ From when the White Wolf fought a silver-tongued devil, his army of elves at his hooves did they revel. ♪"
The peacocks finally realize this is another "breed" of Dandelion and quickly approach the bard, moving in circles around him as they squawk along to the song. Delighted as he can be by this turn of events, Jaskier laughs brightly as he lets his fingertips brush their colorful tails.
The bard steps up to the birds and starts to sing for them, some catchy song that must be about the elves at Dol Blathanna, judging from the lyrics about elves and devils. The peafowl seem quite taken by it, though, judging from how quickly they decide to flock around him, the peahens cuddling up around his shins while the peacocks croak along with his singing. One or two of them lift their brilliant tails up, strutting around Jaskier and shaking their vibrant plumage. They seem pleased when the bard touches them, if their quivering feathers are anything to go by.
Geralt leans against a fencepost and presses the heel of his hand against the bleeding cut on his arm, to encourage it to clot. The sight of the bard amongst a flock of noisy birds is so familiar that it makes something ache under his breastbone. He misses his bard, the lilt of his voice and his smile and the particular drum of his heartbeat. He worries, even though he knows that Dandelion can take care of himself without a witcher at his side. Is it such a terrible thing, though, to always want to be the witcher that he runs to?
(On another Continent, a bard follows a witcher on his contract, despite the witcher's protests. He's told to wait with Roach at a reasonable distance, but disregards that command almost as soon as Geralt is out of eyesight; how can be write anything if he doesn't see what happens? When he gets close enough to see the fight, there are a few wonderful moments where he can observe the action before one of the endrega drones comes after him; he calls for the witcher-- Geralt!-- and flees, and years of running from man and beast alike has given him a particular alacrity in tree climbing. It's a useful skill.)
"I hate to tell you, bard," he says, pushing down the melancholy feeling in his chest for now, "but your adoring audience has an ulterior motive."
That lovely feather display is the exact same thing that the peacocks do when they're trying to impress the hens, and it is that time of year. Apparently they've just decided that the big, loud man wearing bright colors is more attractive than the usual selection of hens, so they're vying for his attention.
While Geralt does his thinking, Jaskier finishes singing the chorus of Toss A Coin for the peacocks, although it gets no reaction from the witcher. And it says a lot about his relationship with Geralt at home, he realizes, for him to consider no reaction a good thing. No reaching your audience is never a good sign for a performer, but compared to certain witcher's annoyed face whenever he used to sing the White Wolf songs? This is actually an improvement.
Which is kinda depressing, to be honest.
Thankfully, Geralt's comment brings him back from sad-thoughts-land, although Jaskier isn't sure he understands said comment.
"What?"
He looks down at the peacocks and carefully watches their movements, trying to guess what Geralt meant by--
Oh.
"Part of me is flattered, honestly." He wrinkles his nose. "On the other hand - eww."
It's a bit hard to walk away with so many birds surrounding him - Jaskier ends up tripping twice before he gets to Geralt's side, but at least he doesn't end up on the ground. Little mercies. Now he's closer to the witcher, he notices exactly how deep the cute must be if that's how much it's bleeding.
"Bollocks. Did they truly bite that hard?" He grabs Geralt's hand and pulls it away for a better look at the wound - yikes. He pulls a face, his witcher-caretaking instincts kicking in before he can confront them. "Let's go back inside so I can patch you up." He doesn't wait for an answer, he's already pulling Geralt along. "And meanwhile you can tell me the stories behind those paintings in the west wing, mmh?"
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And alright, this may not be the Geralt that broke his heart, but as a poet and a petty little shit, Jaskier can't feel savoring the irony of a peacock biting the witcher's hand that feeds him. A reversal of what happened at home, so to speak.
Jaskier favors peacocks as much as Dandelion does, another thing in common. Many a time he's been called a peacock and every time Jaskier considers a compliment - who can be mad at such beautiful creatures? The Countess de Stael used to have them in her estate as well, Jaskier loved composing under a tree near the flock. They liked it when he sang for them, too.
Hmm.
Geralt retreats and Jaskier does the exact opposite: he approaches the birds with an idea in his mind. He hasn't sung about the White Wolf since he came down the mountain, but considering he's in the middle of teasing the hell out of Geralt... well. He can't help it.
"♪ When a humble bard graced a ride along with Geralt of Rivia, along came this song. ♪" The peacocks raise their heads and stare as Jaskier comes close enough to let them make the final choice to approach him or not. "♪ From when the White Wolf fought a silver-tongued devil, his army of elves at his hooves did they revel. ♪"
The peacocks finally realize this is another "breed" of Dandelion and quickly approach the bard, moving in circles around him as they squawk along to the song. Delighted as he can be by this turn of events, Jaskier laughs brightly as he lets his fingertips brush their colorful tails.
"See~? They're sweethearts."
no subject
Geralt leans against a fencepost and presses the heel of his hand against the bleeding cut on his arm, to encourage it to clot. The sight of the bard amongst a flock of noisy birds is so familiar that it makes something ache under his breastbone. He misses his bard, the lilt of his voice and his smile and the particular drum of his heartbeat. He worries, even though he knows that Dandelion can take care of himself without a witcher at his side. Is it such a terrible thing, though, to always want to be the witcher that he runs to?
(On another Continent, a bard follows a witcher on his contract, despite the witcher's protests. He's told to wait with Roach at a reasonable distance, but disregards that command almost as soon as Geralt is out of eyesight; how can be write anything if he doesn't see what happens? When he gets close enough to see the fight, there are a few wonderful moments where he can observe the action before one of the endrega drones comes after him; he calls for the witcher-- Geralt!-- and flees, and years of running from man and beast alike has given him a particular alacrity in tree climbing. It's a useful skill.)
"I hate to tell you, bard," he says, pushing down the melancholy feeling in his chest for now, "but your adoring audience has an ulterior motive."
That lovely feather display is the exact same thing that the peacocks do when they're trying to impress the hens, and it is that time of year. Apparently they've just decided that the big, loud man wearing bright colors is more attractive than the usual selection of hens, so they're vying for his attention.
no subject
Which is kinda depressing, to be honest.
Thankfully, Geralt's comment brings him back from sad-thoughts-land, although Jaskier isn't sure he understands said comment.
"What?"
He looks down at the peacocks and carefully watches their movements, trying to guess what Geralt meant by--
Oh.
"Part of me is flattered, honestly." He wrinkles his nose. "On the other hand - eww."
It's a bit hard to walk away with so many birds surrounding him - Jaskier ends up tripping twice before he gets to Geralt's side, but at least he doesn't end up on the ground. Little mercies. Now he's closer to the witcher, he notices exactly how deep the cute must be if that's how much it's bleeding.
"Bollocks. Did they truly bite that hard?" He grabs Geralt's hand and pulls it away for a better look at the wound - yikes. He pulls a face, his witcher-caretaking instincts kicking in before he can confront them. "Let's go back inside so I can patch you up." He doesn't wait for an answer, he's already pulling Geralt along. "And meanwhile you can tell me the stories behind those paintings in the west wing, mmh?"