The possibility of just posting a bunch of horse pictures and getting a lot more business because of it is tempting. It would be easy, because Geralt has plenty of horses and he loves all of them with the entirety of his weird, ex-con heart. He'd have to have a phone that could handle things like Instagram, though, and he sure has hell doesn't have that.
So Jaskier's a recent move, recent enough that he's still in the process of putting everything away. That explains, at least, why he's hanging around here by himself instead of out with friends-- he doesn't have any in the area. But a young guy like him will probably make friends quickly and have better things to do with his time than ride horses on his days off.
"I usually take groups," he says. "But I'll have time in the evening. Around five. Could take you up and have you back before sundown."
Nothing too strenuous, but there were some easier trails that wouldn't be bad for a late afternoon ride. Had some nice sights, wouldn't be too taxing on the horses, it'd give Jaskier what he wants out of a trail ride. He really does need to get Roach out for some exercise, too. And Ciri would have the house to herself for a little longer tonight, she always liked that. Teenagers and their sudden need for personal space.
"It's fine if you don't want to stay that long. You can schedule something another time."
Late evening in the trails - beautiful sights, sunset behind them, a relaxing ride with a friendly horse and his guitar. It sounds perfect, and Jaskier would say yes based on that alone, but the fact Geralt would be coming too is the cherry on top. Nice on the eyes and, so far, pleasant company as well. It's almost like a date. Of course the guy only wants to make some extra bucks, but Jaskier thinks it's a good sign that he's willing to take him alone instead of waiting to schedule a group. If not for a date, at least for friendship.
"I wouldn't mind at all. I've brought lunch and my notebook, I have music in my phone. It's the unwinding I came for! It'll do me some good to laze around for a couple of hours, try to get some writing done, maybe record something out here. Ah, if that's allowed."
It's not like he'll suddenly start playing ACDC, any melody played would be soft and far from the stables, but better be sure not to fuck up with the animals. For the sake of the business, of Mr Hotstuff's, and also simply because it'd be wrong and Jaskier would feel like shit. Poor horses deserve better.
Staying so long, however, may mean the daughter may return. And who knows what her reaction may be to seeing him here. Would Geralt be okay with that? Jaskier doesn't mind meeting the fans, adoring every bit of attention, but he hasn't forgotten the misunderstanding from earlier.
"But is it okay with you?" Not a question he'd usually ask - imposing himself into people's lives is his specialty. But an exception shall be made when a young girl may get caught in the middle of it.
It's like a date that Jaskier will have to pay for in the end, which is absolutely nothing like what a date should be.
So long as the musician stays out of the way and doesn't interrupt the things that Geralt needs to do, he doesn't see any particular reason to kick him from the property. He doesn't make other patrons leave immediately after their lessons; they're free to hang around with the same stipulations. Why not Jaskier?
"Long as you don't bother the horses, I don't care."
A little guitar-playing and some singing wouldn't bother the horses so long as he isn't doing it right next to them. But there are plenty of places for a lone musician to hole up-- paddocks full of meadowgrass to sit in, the hayloft, other little nooks and corners. He's pale, anyway, he could probably use a little sun exposure and fresh air.
And as far as his daughter is concerned... well, this city boy wouldn't be the first customer who's been around when she got home, she just usually stays up in the house, except perhaps to come down and say hello to Geralt. She'll be back late tonight, anyway, because she's got her martial arts practice and Eskel is going to drop her off afterwards.
Geralt pushes himself away from the fence. He has other things to do than stand around and watch Jaskier canter around on Pegasus. If he isn't going to get himself killed, than he can get back to business and just stop by every once in a while to make sure that he's all right.
"Got things to do. Don't do anything stupid."
And if, throughout the course of the day, he occasionally stops at the doors of the barn to look out at the outside arena while Jaskier's riding, well, it's just to make sure he's still all right. Safety, and all that.
"Yesssir." He does the two fingers on his forehead again, not that it matters much.
Cantering around on Pegasus is exactly what he does, enjoying the sun on his skin and the wind on his hair. He hums or sings during the ride, letting his emotions express themselves through poetry. Singing by instinct is one of his favorite ways to turn off his brain, he lets his unconscious choose the songs and his chest always feels lighter after it.
(Another of his favorite ways is sex.)
"Haven't we met? Some kind of beautiful stranger, you could be good for me. I've had the taste for danger... ♪"
He takes a break for lunch, deciding to stay in one of the paddocks since it's such a nice day. After picking his stuff from the break room, he takes the chance to take some more pictures of the place and record a very short video for Instagram about him having a wonderful day. He uploads it together with the pics while sitting with his back against a fence, letting Pegasus grass around while he eats some sandwiches from a 7/11 and strums his guitar.
When he notices Geralt checking on him, he grins at him and waves his phone.
"I told you you need social media, mate. Everyone is in love with Pegasus - they are calling him Prince Charming."
When his afternoon lesson is over and Geralt comes out to check on Jaskier, he's sitting against a fence post in the paddock, letting Pegasus graze. The day's been quite mild, so there's little problem with having the horse out in the pasture, especially with his tack taken off. Geralt walks over, just to see what the fuss is about.
Jaskier gives him some spiel about getting social media because everyone-- or, at least, however many people actually follow this guy-- likes his horse. And, sure, Pegasus is a hell of a horse, Geralt takes good care of him. He's only like that because of all the work he put into him after the poor thing was taken from an abandonment situation. If they'd seen the pictures of Pegasus when Geralt had first gotten him, they wouldn't be fawning over him so much.
"Hm," he says, which tells Jaskier exactly nothing about what he's thinking.
Geralt leans against the railing next to where Jaskier is sitting, watching Pegasus wander his way across the paddock, content to graze on clover.
"Got him a little over a year ago. Guy about an hour away had moved and just left three of his horses behind in a pasture, no food or water. One of 'em was dead by the time animal welfare got there, the other didn't make it past a few days. They gave Pegasus to me."
And, clearly, Pegasus made it. Not that it hadn't taken a lot of effort, it had been weeks and weeks of care and work and wondering if all of that time was going to be for nothing, but in the end? It's worth it. It's always worth it.
"If you're going to post about him everywhere, you should at least post the real story."
Exactly nothing sounds about right - a grunt isn't an answer, not a real one anyway. Jaskier wonders for a second if that's all he's getting, just Mr Adonis humoring him not to be rude to a customer. But then the guy is leaning against the railing next to him, which means Jaskier gets a lovely view from below of muscles flexing, and also... a real answer.
One bigger than he expected.
"...bollocks."
Jaskier's eyes are as wide as they can be, and they can't stop glancing from Geralt to Pegasus then back to Geralt again. He's left speechless for a moment, hand going to his chest, his heart clogging his throat. What Geralt describes... well, it's torture, plain and simple. The image of those two poor horses dying such slow deaths-- fuck, he won't be able to drop that mental image any time soon.
"So he's a rescue horse." The sadness in his voice is quite obvious. "I didn't think... never considered... people usually talk about rescue dogs or rescue cats, but horses..." Spoken like a true spoiled brat, he knows. Only finely bred stallions for the Pankratz kids. And then it hits him. "Bloody hell, Geralt. Are they all rescue horses? When I said you have something amazing here I didn't use enough words."
Words - he's good enough with those, so he does exactly what Geralt asked him to. Jaskier takes another picture of Pegasus and opens his Instagram again, calloused fingers typing at the speed of light, tugging heartstrings by adding poetics to the horse's origins.
"The real story is what both you and he deserve, and that's what the internet will get." He's about to press post but another idea comes to him, and he looks up at Geralt with raised eyebrows. "Is there anything else I can add to help promote this? A donation box perhaps?"
Not a whole lot of people consider horses as rescue animals, so Jaskier's not exactly different in his thinking from the rest of the masses. But that's because as a spoiled rich brat, he'd only ever ridden champion-bloodline stallions that had been expertly trained, the kind of animals that people paid thousand upon thousands of dollars for. Everyone else just couldn't afford horses, didn't always think of them as companion animals.
Jaskier connects the dots after a moment or two. Smarter than he looks, this one.
"Yeah. They are."
That was the point, that was why he didn't sell or breed-- they're all rescues. And this is where they get their second chances, where they can live the sorts of lives that they should've had from the start. And what a match it is-- a bunch of scarred up, abused, and neglected horses, getting a better life under the care of an ex-con who didn't get his own life together until after thirty.
Jaskier's not going to put that part in his little Instagram caption, though; would probably ruin the aesthetic or whatever. He doesn't know and, well... he doesn't really need to know, does he? He seems like a decent kid, the kind that wouldn't get mixed up with ex-cons, and it's not like Geralt plans to get involved with him on any level but the professionally friendly. And it's all a matter of public record, anyway, if he wanted to look Geralt up and find out, he always could.
Geralt shrugs in response to the question, dismissively. "Never got one set up. Don't have a website either."
Website management wasn't one of the things that they taught him in prison. He'd have to hire someone to build it and take care of it, and while he can make ends meet comfortably enough with the ranch, he doesn't have a lot left over. And what he does usually just goes right back into the ranch, for repairs or vet bills or calling in the farrier because one of the horses threw a shoe.
They are. Ah. Jaskier suddenly has the urge to go back to the stables and pet them all, poor things. Well, except for Roach apparently, although now Jaskier has a completely different theory on her. If she has attitude it may be because of a previous abusive owner, and if so, she's in her right to mistrust the hell out of strangers. Jaskier wonders if he could earn the right to touch her some day. Everyone deserves kindness, after all.
"So this is a sanctuary."
A temple of second chances, taken care of by the only angel with mighty muscles in existence (he would know, he used to be altar boy). The way Geralt had said the real story tells Jaskier how important this is to him as well. He feels like he's learned something about the man - he isn't sure what, exactly, but he cherishes this information all the same.
(Yep, that's a crush already forming, oh dear.)
"I don't have a website either." He comments with a shrug as he adds a bit about 'animal sanctuaries' to his post before finally sending it. "They're a pain to keep up with, and my social media already covers it all. I suppose you could count my youtube channel as my website, if you will. But just an Instagram account would help you immensely - let the picture of the horses do the talking. Maybe some of the trails as well, I bet it's a popular spot for dates."
No donation box, mmh. Jaskier makes a mental note to make his tip generous when the day is over. For now, he puts his phone away to pick up his guitar instead, retrieving the buttercup pick from under the strings on the neck.
"If I can't toss a donation your way, then allow me to toss you a song. What's your favorite, Geralt?"
If Geralt had any idea about the ridiculous things Jaskier is thinking about him-- a muscled angel, that's a load of rot, he's a grumpy hermit who talks in mostly monosyllables and grunts-- he would have quickly shut them down, set the record straight. Don't glamorize him, don't romanticize him. He's not some gallant hero.
But the idea of getting some kind of social media account... well, it's probably not a bad one. He could use more customers to get a little more cash flow into the place, since there are some repairs and new equipment that he'd like to get. It would be nice to be able to hire some extra help so that he could spend more time with Ciri. If he really got a good, steady increase, maybe he could even think about expanding the barn and taking more horses...
"Hm." Another hum, but this one with a more considering tone. He'd think about it. Maybe he could ask Ciri about how to set up one of those Instagrams.
The musician gets his guitar and pulls out a clear pick that has some kind of yellow flower encapsulated inside it and asks for a request. Geralt considers it for a moment; he does, actually, like plenty of music, so he could name something that could be played on one guitar. But--
Is it his imagination or is that hum a thoughtful one? These grunts of his have nuance to them, Jaskier is discovering, another part of a very handsome mystery to unravel. Hopefully he'll get more clues soon. And hey, that means he's considering the idea of social media for the ranch, right? It's good to be heard! Jaskier will make sure to be his first follower - well, not counting his daughter.
His gentle smile changes to a face of surprise and indignation, however, when Geralt makes his request - if it can be called that.
"Blessed silence! The nerve! The scandal!" He exclaims as he puts a hand on his chest, trying to guess if the man is serious or not and deciding it doesn't matter, because even if it's a joke, he's going to be a drama queen anyway. "I'll have you know, good sir, I don't go in for that--"
He suddenly interrupts himself when he remembers something, and his lips go from gaping fish to mischievous grin. Guitar position is fixed on his lap, hands test the strings, voice is cleared twice, and then Jaskier starts playing a very particular song.
"♪ Enjoy the silence you've invited, without a sound and be excited. Blessed silence, blessed silence. ♪"
Of course the musician would know a song that is, specifically, called Blessed Silence. Geralt rolls his eyes so hard that the city boy can probably hear it, so hard that his whole head moves with it. Doesn't stop him, though, so he can take that as he will.
"Are you done with your caterwauling? You'll scare my horses."
Could he give this guy a break? Sure. He's really not that bad of a singer, probably good if he's playing a song that he knows well and is in whatever kind of genre he prefers. Is he going to give this guy a break?
No.
"You should get Pegasus tacked up again," he says. "I can have Roach ready in about half an hour. We should get moving so that we're back before sunset."
The eyeroll is the perfect reaction, but Jaskier doesn't have time to enjoy the moment and be smug about it because the man is retaliating. The gaping fish mouth makes a comeback and, for once in his life, Jaskier is left speechless for more than two seconds. He takes it back, this is no angel or sweetheart, this is 100% an arsehole.
"YOU!" An accusatory finger is pointed at Geralt, pick still in hand. "ARE A SUPREME WANKER!"
The guitar is put down with care, but Jaskier stands up hastily, hands moving to his hips as he looks at Geralt with the most offended face in the world. How dare he! Some teasing about silence he could almost get, but this? The nerve! His talent is what is paying this visit in the first place. And the arsehole looks so pleased about it too!
"We're not going anywhere until you take back what you said about my singing!"
Because there's no way he's having a totally-not-romantic ride alone with this guy after what he said, no matter how sexy he looks when leaning those thick legs against the fence like that. Ugh.
Geralt finds that he kind of enjoys Jaskier's gaping fish face. It's hilarious, he looks so offended that he doesn't have the most effusive of praises for his singing, like he's never met a critic before. Maybe it's a rich kid thing and he's just been told that he's the most special perfect boy for his entire life; maybe he just has an easily bruised ego. Maybe it's both. Regardless, he's fun to poke fun at.
"Supreme? Hm. I'm going up in the world."
Geralt is entirely unfazed by Jaskier's carrying on and histrionics. He can look as angry housewife-y as he likes, joke's on him-- Geralt never had a wife.
"Fine, I take it back," he says. "Your singing is like ordering a jelly doughnut and finding out that it's all doughnut and no jelly."
There, he took it back. Sure you don't want what he originally said instead?
Jaskier has come across many critics since his youth, but Geralt isn't offering criticism - he's outright insulting him. Geralt isn't wrong about the easily bruised ego, though, because one the things that is bothering Jaskier the most is how unfazed the man looks, as if Jaskier's hurt feelings didn't matter at all.
Pay attention to me! SEE me!
He isn't pouting. No, really, he isn't.
Except he totally is.
"That's not a review, that's a bloody attack! I know for a fact I'm a good singer - it's my talent that is paying your service today, Mr Tactless Brute!" Jaskier comes closer to poke at Geralt's chest which-- fuck. So firm. Wait, no, no distractions, he's supposed to be insulted, not horny. "What would your daughter say if she heard you talk like this about her musical taste!"
Maybe a low blow, but he can't help it, he's feeling rather petty right now.
This is despite the fact that Geralt's not even a boomer, but that's fine. He's old and doesn't get current music trends, he's the guy still listening to Johnny Cash. Dad music, she called it, which he was fine with because he is, in fact, a dad.
Jaskier pokes him in the chest and it doesn't do anything except perhaps stub his finger a little-- Geralt definitely keeps up with chest day and his pecs are like rocks.
"If the musical prodigy wants to go up on the trails today, though, he's going to need to take care of the horse. Or he could stand around here and argue with me about his singing. Dealer's choice."
Okay, he has to chuckle at that, which makes him immediately cover his mouth because he's supposed to be angry right now! (Probably for the best - touching rock-hard pecs, even if only with his fingertip, is not good for his heart. Or his dick.) That girl is sassy, though, he likes her.
Jaskier suddenly tenses when he hears Geralt use that damn word, and now he feels like a kid again, a violin bow in his hand instead of a guitar pick. Bollocks, so much for unwinding. Better accept that trail ride before he misses the chance, even if he now he's as annoyed by that handsome face as he is attracted to it.
"...don't call me that." He says as he wrinkles his noise and avoids Geralt's intense eyes. No dramatics this time, just a request coming from a serious voice. It's almost like that little teasing jab had hurt more than the actual insults. "I'll go get Pegasus ready then."
And with that, he turns to pick all his things from the grass and get on working on tacking up Pegasus again while humming one of his own songs under his breath.
That's-- odd. He hadn't expected that particular phrase to go over so poorly, not with a musician. But it clearly did, Jaskier just sort of closed up right after he said it, going from boisterous and animated to reserved and serious. A sore spot, and not one that the musician will take in good humor when it's prodded at.
Don't call me that.
Geralt hums, notes the averted eyes and scrunched nose. He leaves Jaskier to his task, since he seems much more content with the horse right now than with human company, and god above knows that Geralt understands that. Horses are good for your mood. And Pegasus especially, because of his good temperament; he butts his head against Jaskier's chest while Geralt is making his way back to the barn.
Saddling up Roach doesn't take much time; it's something that Geralt can do practically on auto-pilot. He leads her out of the barn when he's done, then mounts up once they're outside and walks her up the path to where Jaskier was.
"Come on."
There are a few trails that lead off of the ranch; the shortest mostly sticks to the wooded areas, making a loop before coming back to the property. The longer ones go up towards the mountains, going through the woods and into meadowlands that are sure to be spectacular this time of year. The wildflowers would be in bloom, covering the hills in a wash of riotous color. Hopefully Jaskier isn't allergic.
They should be able to make it up to the meadows before they have to turn back, barring any bad luck. Even so, riding through the woods is pleasant too-- the new leaves are vibrantly green and provide comfortable shade from the afternoon sun. Birds twitter in the branches, flitting between them with flashes of bright plumage.
Pegasus' headbutt already helps him bring back his smile, what a sweet boy. Jaskier tries to copy the head scratching he saw Geralt do earlier, and murmurs some baby talk in there (aren't you such a good horse? yes you are) before he finally hops on his new animal friend to get going.
There's no dumping questions on Geralt while he's being guided this time, and he's unsure if he should even start conversation when the man still hasn't apologized for that comment about his singing. There's a problem: he hates silence... luckily, it doesn't last long. The tree leaves rustle and the birds, bright and colorful as Jaskier would some times dress himself, sing for them as they pass. It's a beautiful, peaceful place, and Jaskier is in love.
He takes a short video with his phone and soon finds himself humming one of his own songs, inspired by the natural sounds of the forest. He should record something properly here some time, he decides. His style would fit so perfectly in this magical forest, wouldn't it? He's already so enchanted with the idea that his humming has to become actual singing. Because when doesn't it when it comes to him?
"♪ O let the land come at you, love, with all its sand and sin a-singing. A song you once knew well's begun, run until your lungs are numb. ♪" It's nothing like when he sang that little teasing song for Geralt before - this time his voice is deeper and filled with emotion, lyrics coming from his very core. It's personal. "♪ Now let the earth a-tumble, love, and humble you withal, keep running. It's not from what we run that drums, but what's to come, what’s to come. ♪"
And if Geralt decides to insult him again, well. Jaskier is sure the forest can provide him with something to throw at that white head.
Jaskier is quiet for the trip up, though Geralt isn't exactly displeased by that. Maybe he's just enthralled by the beauty of nature or something, he's one of those artistic, creative types. They get all mushy for some trees and flowers, right? Geralt looks over his shoulder to make sure that the musician is still doing all right and sees him taking a video, probably for his Insta-bullshit or Twitters or whatever, rolls his eyes and remembers why these hipster types annoy him so often.
He starts humming as the gentle uphill climb starts to level out, signalling that they're getting closer to the fields, then shortly after breaking into actual song. His voice really isn't as bad as Geralt implied-- the insult was more for the sake of riling him up than anything. He's got a nice tenor, he can carry a tune, though anything beyond that is past Geralt's musical knowledge. He seems fine. Next rising star? Who the fuck knows. But apparently good enough for YouTube.
"One of yours?"
It didn't sound like anything that he'd usually hear on the radio, so maybe it was one of Jaskier's original compositions. He must do something other than sing ironic cover songs, right?
Just up ahead, the trees thinned out into meadowland, bathed in the warm, golden afternoon sun. As the horses walked out from underneath the tree cover, the vast fields of wildflowers were in full bloom before them, stretching out across the hills. There's a dirt path that cuts through the meadow, just wide enough that two horses could walk abreast, and that's what Geralt guides Roach along. The horse briefly turns her head to snatch up a few of the bright flowers to contentedly chomp on as she walks, though Geralt doesn't let her get too many of them. She's got plenty of good food back at the barn, after all.
After the insults from before, Jaskier isn't sure what to expect from the guy, but him nailing that on his first try is definitely at the bottom of his guessing list. Curiosity piqued and even a tiny little weeny impressed (barely, really!), Jaskier tilts his head and watches the man with interest, as if he could learn all his secrets just from observation.
"Yeah. How did you know?"
A lucky guess, maybe? Or does he truly have the ear to detect when a musician sings their own lyrics? He sincerely doubts it after the previous jabs. Maybe the song just rings a bell because of his daughter and he shouldn't be reading too much into this.
The view that suddenly welcomes them takes him out of his thoughts, and Jaskier can only gasp and stare for a moment. The colors are vibrant, the aromas sweet, the sun warm, the light bright - it's simply perfect, and Jaskier thinks he's found a little piece of heaven. Which means, of course, he is getting inspired.
"To see the world in a grain of sand and heaven in a wildflower..." Wililam Blake is interrupted, though, when they come closer and the flowers become more than a bunch colors lumped together. The shape is clear now, they're identifiable. "These are buttercups!"
Laughing at the coincidence (or shall we call it destiny?), Jaskier makes Pegasus slow down to fall behind Geralt and Roach so he can have room to jump off the horse and let his fingers touch the flowers. And with Jaskier being Jaskier, it only takes a couple of seconds before he's taking a few, one for his own ear and the rest for Pegasus' mane.
"This isn't bad for his hair, is it?" He asks after he's already braided three little flowers that look incredibly pretty among all the white.
"Hm," Geralt says in reply, as though that answers anything. It's a guess, mostly, but an educated one-- he thinks he remembers the melody from music that he'd heard Ciri playing in her room before, and it doesn't sound like the unbearably repetitive Top 40 radio music. What really tips him off, though, is the familiarity that Jaskier has with it, the ease with which he sings it. He knows the song inside and out.
It isn't important, though, because Jaskier is enthralled by the field of flowers that stretches out in front of them. He quotes something that's probably poetry-- he seems like the type-- and identifies one of the many kinds of flowers that are blossoming near the path. Buttercups, bursting from the earth in clusters of brilliant yellow. The musician stops Pegasus at the side of the path and dismounts, and Geralt gives a gentle tug on the reins to stop Roach, too. Can't leave the guy behind.
He watches with bemusement as Jaskier picks buttercups and sticks one of them behind his ear, saving the other ones for braiding into Pegasus' long mane. He's surprisingly efficient at braiding, and it doesn't take him long at all to start weaving the flowers into the horse's hair.
"Should be fine," he says. "Horses don't usually eat buttercups. Tastes bad."
Which is good, because they're poisonous, too. Only horses in overgrazed pasture with nothing else to eat would resort to eating buttercups. The point of this trail ride isn't really for Jaskier to get off of the damn horse and braid his hair like they're middle school girls at a sleepover, but Jaskier's also paying for this time. So if he wants to spend his hard-earned YouTube money on standing around in a meadow, picking buttercups, that's his prerogative. It's all the same to Geralt.
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."
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."
"It's called a metaphor, Geralt." He says with an eyeroll and a huff. His poetry is wasted on this man, isn't it? He'll have to ask the daughter some time if she considers this beauty her own personal garden, see what happens. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be a good boy, Mr Cantankerous Cowboy."
His tone is mocking, but turns out, he actually keeps his word. Seeing as Geralt obviously isn't interested in chitchatting, Jaskier hums or sings the rest of the ride, only stopping to take the occasional picture or to talk to Pegasus himself. There's a comment here and there for Roach, as well. The place is absolutely beautiful, and it keeps Jaskier's attention enough not to be an annoying brat. The colors, the sounds, the aromas... it's the relaxing time he needed, and he can already fill inspiration coming to him with its needy claws that won't let go of his brain until he gets home and writes it all down.
He loves it. Hopefully one day he can arrange something to work here, just him, his guitar and a picnic blanket.
The buttercup is still behind his ear when they make it back to the ranch, and he plans to keep it there on the ride home (maybe he could press it inside one of his poetry books). Rubbing down the horses is quite nice and not something he used to do a lot when he was a child - it helps seeing the horse as an actual animal and companion and not just a ride he just got off from, bonding with him. Jaskier makes sure to give him some last nice parting words and a good pat on his neck together with a thank you, I'll see you soon. Others would probably try out different horses, but honestly, Jaskier is already sold on this one. He's made a friend today, and he's loyal to his friends until the end.
As soon as he picks his things up, Jaskier asks for an Uber before going to Geralt, knowing he'll have a small wait ahead of him. What he doesn't see coming, however, it's that price. Both his eyebrows quickly go up, disbelief written all over his face.
"What do I look like, a charity case?" Shaking his head, Jaskier reaches into his bag for his wallet (which is, of course, as extra as he is) and grabs two 100s. He folds them together, though, to hide one with the other, before handing them to Geralt. "Keep the change." As he closes his wallet, a little bright thing calls his attention: a transparent yellow pick. Grinning with an idea forming in his head, he hands it to Geralt as well. "And this is for your daughter. A thank you for her reccomendation."
A pause as Jaskier gives the man a look over. He's still annoyed by the comment about his voice, and yet... his curiosity (and attraction, obviously) remains. There's a mystery here and he wants to unravel it (as well as unraveling certain pair of pants).
"Old or not, you do have a phone, right?" He hands Geralt his own, the new contact screen open. "Give me your number so I can plan my visits in the future. That way I won't be around your daughter, too, just like I promised." It's a pity because he does like meeting the fans and getting attention, although on the other hand, it'd be nice to keep this as a calm, secret spot away from everything. He should leave it there, try to work things up through a couple of messages maybe, but he still can't stop his mouth from asking- "Do you have a favorite song?"
Apparently, Geralt's rate is too low for this poncy asshole, and he hands Geralt what appears to be a hundred-- a thirty dollar tip on top of a seventy dollar charge is too much goddamn tip. Geralt frowns when he takes the bill from him, but decides against arguing, ultimately. It's Jaskier's money, he can do whatever he wants with it, including throw it at a ranch dad that he just met today. He pockets the money and is distracted from thinking any more about it-- or from opening up the folded bill and seeing the other hundred hidden inside it-- by this musical otter asking him for his number.
And this is more of that... odd behavior, the kind of thing that he would assume is flirting if Jaskier had been a woman. Geralt doesn't usually give out his private number, not when he has a landline for the business; he ought to tell Jaskier to call that, like everyone else. It's not like he's special just because Pegasus likes him and he's odd and rides well and Geralt took him up for a private trail ride.
Geralt takes the phone from him with a huff and enters in his name and number. This is purely for Ciri's benefit, he thinks-- it's just to look out for her and make sure that she's kept well away from strange men. And, also, it's probably not great for his daughter to harass one of his customers, even if he is YouTube famous or whatever. Then, just as he hands the phone back, Jaskier asks him about his favorite song.
He considers the question for a moment, and replies, "Yeah."
Then he turns, gives him the kind of curt good-bye that he usually does when he leaves a conversation, and heads right back down to the barn to finish up his work for the day. He'd answered the musician's question, anyway-- he'd only asked if Geralt has a favorite song, not what that song is. Teach him to be specific.
Later that night, Ciri points out that he has a buttercup in his hair. After a bit of prodding, Geralt tells her why, and she's furious that he didn't let her know that the musician was there. After he had gone to bed, his daughter still pouting but a little mollified by the pick that the musician had left for her, he thought about Jaskier's hands and his carefree laugh and Geralt could still feel the spot where his fingers brushed his face.
A few days after the musician left, Geralt finally caves to the pressure and gets a damn smartphone. It has no buttons and it's got too many colorful icons and he barely knows how to work it, but at least he's able to keep the same phone number so he doesn't have to memorize a new one. He transfers all his contacts over, including Jaskier's. Would've been a convenient time to 'lose' it if he wanted to, but...
He keeps it. It's fine.
With Ciri's help, he sets up an Insta-whatsit, under the name KaerMorhenRanch. She helps him take a few nice scenic shots of the barn and grounds for the first posts, and also snaps one of him tacking up Roach. He's lifting the saddle onto her back, the muscles in his arms filling out the sleeves of his t-shirt. He thinks it isn't a particularly good one to post, since Roach isn't even entirely in the frame, but Ciri insists that it'll do well.
It does well. More people start following the Ranch. People also start leaving strange comments, sometimes just a series of incomprehensible emojis, but Geralt ignores that.
Geralt-- or the Ranch, rather-- starts following Jaskier. It's just so that he can scroll back through this guy's feed or whatever and see the kind of stuff that he posts, whether it's appropriate for his daughter to be watching. Ciri huffs when she realizes, still a little upset at him about the whole not telling her that her favorite musician was at the Ranch thing, but Geralt is undeterred. He spends an evening scrolling through all of the posts that Jaskier made, watching a few of his videos. It seems fine-- he swears a little, but there's nothing terribly inappropriate. And what fourteen-year-old hasn't heard fuck by now?
He finds the blond girl from Jaskier's lock screen in a few other photos, and reading the captions tells him that she's his sister. That's... well. That should be nothing, it shouldn't matter at all, but it does, kind of? Geralt decides not to think about it. Further back, he finds a picture of Jaskier with his shirt hiked up, revealing a colorful musical tattoo; a picture of him wearing a shirt saying things about phases of the moon; a series of posts from when he went to a Pride parade in London. He looks brilliantly happy, dressed in bright colors and grinning cheerfully at the camera, flags painted on his cheeks. He recognizes the colors of one of them from the sticker on his guitar case, and that's... another thing that shouldn't matter. Jaskier is a customer, his personal life isn't Geralt's business.
Jaskier's next cover that he puts up on his YouTube account-- because Geralt follows him there now, too, but from a more discreet gmail account-- is Stacey's Mom. Against his better judgement, Geralt posts a comment.
whitewolf 1 minute ago cougars love a babyface
Is it immature? Yes. But who's going to judge him for one little immature comment?
Geralt really shouldn't enjoy all of this, though-- the YouTube channel, the Instagram, the text messages-- as much as he does in the following days, weeks. The messages should be all to the point, purely business, just Jaskier asking Geralt when Pegasus is available or when he could go up on the trails. It shouldn't be the musician asking him what he's doing and Geralt sending him back a picture of his boots immediately after Roach had shit on them. It's too friendly, too familiar.
He does it anyway.
got the afternoon free if you want to go up on the trail
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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The possibility of just posting a bunch of horse pictures and getting a lot more business because of it is tempting. It would be easy, because Geralt has plenty of horses and he loves all of them with the entirety of his weird, ex-con heart. He'd have to have a phone that could handle things like Instagram, though, and he sure has hell doesn't have that.
So Jaskier's a recent move, recent enough that he's still in the process of putting everything away. That explains, at least, why he's hanging around here by himself instead of out with friends-- he doesn't have any in the area. But a young guy like him will probably make friends quickly and have better things to do with his time than ride horses on his days off.
"I usually take groups," he says. "But I'll have time in the evening. Around five. Could take you up and have you back before sundown."
Nothing too strenuous, but there were some easier trails that wouldn't be bad for a late afternoon ride. Had some nice sights, wouldn't be too taxing on the horses, it'd give Jaskier what he wants out of a trail ride. He really does need to get Roach out for some exercise, too. And Ciri would have the house to herself for a little longer tonight, she always liked that. Teenagers and their sudden need for personal space.
"It's fine if you don't want to stay that long. You can schedule something another time."
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"I wouldn't mind at all. I've brought lunch and my notebook, I have music in my phone. It's the unwinding I came for! It'll do me some good to laze around for a couple of hours, try to get some writing done, maybe record something out here. Ah, if that's allowed."
It's not like he'll suddenly start playing ACDC, any melody played would be soft and far from the stables, but better be sure not to fuck up with the animals. For the sake of the business, of Mr Hotstuff's, and also simply because it'd be wrong and Jaskier would feel like shit. Poor horses deserve better.
Staying so long, however, may mean the daughter may return. And who knows what her reaction may be to seeing him here. Would Geralt be okay with that? Jaskier doesn't mind meeting the fans, adoring every bit of attention, but he hasn't forgotten the misunderstanding from earlier.
"But is it okay with you?" Not a question he'd usually ask - imposing himself into people's lives is his specialty. But an exception shall be made when a young girl may get caught in the middle of it.
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So long as the musician stays out of the way and doesn't interrupt the things that Geralt needs to do, he doesn't see any particular reason to kick him from the property. He doesn't make other patrons leave immediately after their lessons; they're free to hang around with the same stipulations. Why not Jaskier?
"Long as you don't bother the horses, I don't care."
A little guitar-playing and some singing wouldn't bother the horses so long as he isn't doing it right next to them. But there are plenty of places for a lone musician to hole up-- paddocks full of meadowgrass to sit in, the hayloft, other little nooks and corners. He's pale, anyway, he could probably use a little sun exposure and fresh air.
And as far as his daughter is concerned... well, this city boy wouldn't be the first customer who's been around when she got home, she just usually stays up in the house, except perhaps to come down and say hello to Geralt. She'll be back late tonight, anyway, because she's got her martial arts practice and Eskel is going to drop her off afterwards.
Geralt pushes himself away from the fence. He has other things to do than stand around and watch Jaskier canter around on Pegasus. If he isn't going to get himself killed, than he can get back to business and just stop by every once in a while to make sure that he's all right.
"Got things to do. Don't do anything stupid."
And if, throughout the course of the day, he occasionally stops at the doors of the barn to look out at the outside arena while Jaskier's riding, well, it's just to make sure he's still all right. Safety, and all that.
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Cantering around on Pegasus is exactly what he does, enjoying the sun on his skin and the wind on his hair. He hums or sings during the ride, letting his emotions express themselves through poetry. Singing by instinct is one of his favorite ways to turn off his brain, he lets his unconscious choose the songs and his chest always feels lighter after it.
(Another of his favorite ways is sex.)
"Haven't we met? Some kind of beautiful stranger, you could be good for me. I've had the taste for danger... ♪"
He takes a break for lunch, deciding to stay in one of the paddocks since it's such a nice day. After picking his stuff from the break room, he takes the chance to take some more pictures of the place and record a very short video for Instagram about him having a wonderful day. He uploads it together with the pics while sitting with his back against a fence, letting Pegasus grass around while he eats some sandwiches from a 7/11 and strums his guitar.
When he notices Geralt checking on him, he grins at him and waves his phone.
"I told you you need social media, mate. Everyone is in love with Pegasus - they are calling him Prince Charming."
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Jaskier gives him some spiel about getting social media because everyone-- or, at least, however many people actually follow this guy-- likes his horse. And, sure, Pegasus is a hell of a horse, Geralt takes good care of him. He's only like that because of all the work he put into him after the poor thing was taken from an abandonment situation. If they'd seen the pictures of Pegasus when Geralt had first gotten him, they wouldn't be fawning over him so much.
"Hm," he says, which tells Jaskier exactly nothing about what he's thinking.
Geralt leans against the railing next to where Jaskier is sitting, watching Pegasus wander his way across the paddock, content to graze on clover.
"Got him a little over a year ago. Guy about an hour away had moved and just left three of his horses behind in a pasture, no food or water. One of 'em was dead by the time animal welfare got there, the other didn't make it past a few days. They gave Pegasus to me."
And, clearly, Pegasus made it. Not that it hadn't taken a lot of effort, it had been weeks and weeks of care and work and wondering if all of that time was going to be for nothing, but in the end? It's worth it. It's always worth it.
"If you're going to post about him everywhere, you should at least post the real story."
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One bigger than he expected.
"...bollocks."
Jaskier's eyes are as wide as they can be, and they can't stop glancing from Geralt to Pegasus then back to Geralt again. He's left speechless for a moment, hand going to his chest, his heart clogging his throat. What Geralt describes... well, it's torture, plain and simple. The image of those two poor horses dying such slow deaths-- fuck, he won't be able to drop that mental image any time soon.
"So he's a rescue horse." The sadness in his voice is quite obvious. "I didn't think... never considered... people usually talk about rescue dogs or rescue cats, but horses..." Spoken like a true spoiled brat, he knows. Only finely bred stallions for the Pankratz kids. And then it hits him. "Bloody hell, Geralt. Are they all rescue horses? When I said you have something amazing here I didn't use enough words."
Words - he's good enough with those, so he does exactly what Geralt asked him to. Jaskier takes another picture of Pegasus and opens his Instagram again, calloused fingers typing at the speed of light, tugging heartstrings by adding poetics to the horse's origins.
"The real story is what both you and he deserve, and that's what the internet will get." He's about to press post but another idea comes to him, and he looks up at Geralt with raised eyebrows. "Is there anything else I can add to help promote this? A donation box perhaps?"
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Jaskier connects the dots after a moment or two. Smarter than he looks, this one.
"Yeah. They are."
That was the point, that was why he didn't sell or breed-- they're all rescues. And this is where they get their second chances, where they can live the sorts of lives that they should've had from the start. And what a match it is-- a bunch of scarred up, abused, and neglected horses, getting a better life under the care of an ex-con who didn't get his own life together until after thirty.
Jaskier's not going to put that part in his little Instagram caption, though; would probably ruin the aesthetic or whatever. He doesn't know and, well... he doesn't really need to know, does he? He seems like a decent kid, the kind that wouldn't get mixed up with ex-cons, and it's not like Geralt plans to get involved with him on any level but the professionally friendly. And it's all a matter of public record, anyway, if he wanted to look Geralt up and find out, he always could.
Geralt shrugs in response to the question, dismissively. "Never got one set up. Don't have a website either."
Website management wasn't one of the things that they taught him in prison. He'd have to hire someone to build it and take care of it, and while he can make ends meet comfortably enough with the ranch, he doesn't have a lot left over. And what he does usually just goes right back into the ranch, for repairs or vet bills or calling in the farrier because one of the horses threw a shoe.
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"So this is a sanctuary."
A temple of second chances, taken care of by the only angel with mighty muscles in existence (he would know, he used to be altar boy). The way Geralt had said the real story tells Jaskier how important this is to him as well. He feels like he's learned something about the man - he isn't sure what, exactly, but he cherishes this information all the same.
(Yep, that's a crush already forming, oh dear.)
"I don't have a website either." He comments with a shrug as he adds a bit about 'animal sanctuaries' to his post before finally sending it. "They're a pain to keep up with, and my social media already covers it all. I suppose you could count my youtube channel as my website, if you will. But just an Instagram account would help you immensely - let the picture of the horses do the talking. Maybe some of the trails as well, I bet it's a popular spot for dates."
No donation box, mmh. Jaskier makes a mental note to make his tip generous when the day is over. For now, he puts his phone away to pick up his guitar instead, retrieving the buttercup pick from under the strings on the neck.
"If I can't toss a donation your way, then allow me to toss you a song. What's your favorite, Geralt?"
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If Geralt had any idea about the ridiculous things Jaskier is thinking about him-- a muscled angel, that's a load of rot, he's a grumpy hermit who talks in mostly monosyllables and grunts-- he would have quickly shut them down, set the record straight. Don't glamorize him, don't romanticize him. He's not some gallant hero.
But the idea of getting some kind of social media account... well, it's probably not a bad one. He could use more customers to get a little more cash flow into the place, since there are some repairs and new equipment that he'd like to get. It would be nice to be able to hire some extra help so that he could spend more time with Ciri. If he really got a good, steady increase, maybe he could even think about expanding the barn and taking more horses...
"Hm." Another hum, but this one with a more considering tone. He'd think about it. Maybe he could ask Ciri about how to set up one of those Instagrams.
The musician gets his guitar and pulls out a clear pick that has some kind of yellow flower encapsulated inside it and asks for a request. Geralt considers it for a moment; he does, actually, like plenty of music, so he could name something that could be played on one guitar. But--
"Know how to play blessed silence?"
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His gentle smile changes to a face of surprise and indignation, however, when Geralt makes his request - if it can be called that.
"Blessed silence! The nerve! The scandal!" He exclaims as he puts a hand on his chest, trying to guess if the man is serious or not and deciding it doesn't matter, because even if it's a joke, he's going to be a drama queen anyway. "I'll have you know, good sir, I don't go in for that--"
He suddenly interrupts himself when he remembers something, and his lips go from gaping fish to mischievous grin. Guitar position is fixed on his lap, hands test the strings, voice is cleared twice, and then Jaskier starts playing a very particular song.
"♪ Enjoy the silence you've invited, without a sound and be excited. Blessed silence, blessed silence. ♪"
How about that for fulfilling that request?
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"Are you done with your caterwauling? You'll scare my horses."
Could he give this guy a break? Sure. He's really not that bad of a singer, probably good if he's playing a song that he knows well and is in whatever kind of genre he prefers. Is he going to give this guy a break?
No.
"You should get Pegasus tacked up again," he says. "I can have Roach ready in about half an hour. We should get moving so that we're back before sunset."
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"YOU!" An accusatory finger is pointed at Geralt, pick still in hand. "ARE A SUPREME WANKER!"
The guitar is put down with care, but Jaskier stands up hastily, hands moving to his hips as he looks at Geralt with the most offended face in the world. How dare he! Some teasing about silence he could almost get, but this? The nerve! His talent is what is paying this visit in the first place. And the arsehole looks so pleased about it too!
"We're not going anywhere until you take back what you said about my singing!"
Because there's no way he's having a totally-not-romantic ride alone with this guy after what he said, no matter how sexy he looks when leaning those thick legs against the fence like that. Ugh.
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"Supreme? Hm. I'm going up in the world."
Geralt is entirely unfazed by Jaskier's carrying on and histrionics. He can look as angry housewife-y as he likes, joke's on him-- Geralt never had a wife.
"Fine, I take it back," he says. "Your singing is like ordering a jelly doughnut and finding out that it's all doughnut and no jelly."
There, he took it back. Sure you don't want what he originally said instead?
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Pay attention to me! SEE me!
He isn't pouting. No, really, he isn't.
Except he totally is.
"That's not a review, that's a bloody attack! I know for a fact I'm a good singer - it's my talent that is paying your service today, Mr Tactless Brute!" Jaskier comes closer to poke at Geralt's chest which-- fuck. So firm. Wait, no, no distractions, he's supposed to be insulted, not horny. "What would your daughter say if she heard you talk like this about her musical taste!"
Maybe a low blow, but he can't help it, he's feeling rather petty right now.
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This is despite the fact that Geralt's not even a boomer, but that's fine. He's old and doesn't get current music trends, he's the guy still listening to Johnny Cash. Dad music, she called it, which he was fine with because he is, in fact, a dad.
Jaskier pokes him in the chest and it doesn't do anything except perhaps stub his finger a little-- Geralt definitely keeps up with chest day and his pecs are like rocks.
"If the musical prodigy wants to go up on the trails today, though, he's going to need to take care of the horse. Or he could stand around here and argue with me about his singing. Dealer's choice."
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Jaskier suddenly tenses when he hears Geralt use that damn word, and now he feels like a kid again, a violin bow in his hand instead of a guitar pick. Bollocks, so much for unwinding. Better accept that trail ride before he misses the chance, even if he now he's as annoyed by that handsome face as he is attracted to it.
"...don't call me that." He says as he wrinkles his noise and avoids Geralt's intense eyes. No dramatics this time, just a request coming from a serious voice. It's almost like that little teasing jab had hurt more than the actual insults. "I'll go get Pegasus ready then."
And with that, he turns to pick all his things from the grass and get on working on tacking up Pegasus again while humming one of his own songs under his breath.
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Don't call me that.
Geralt hums, notes the averted eyes and scrunched nose. He leaves Jaskier to his task, since he seems much more content with the horse right now than with human company, and god above knows that Geralt understands that. Horses are good for your mood. And Pegasus especially, because of his good temperament; he butts his head against Jaskier's chest while Geralt is making his way back to the barn.
Saddling up Roach doesn't take much time; it's something that Geralt can do practically on auto-pilot. He leads her out of the barn when he's done, then mounts up once they're outside and walks her up the path to where Jaskier was.
"Come on."
There are a few trails that lead off of the ranch; the shortest mostly sticks to the wooded areas, making a loop before coming back to the property. The longer ones go up towards the mountains, going through the woods and into meadowlands that are sure to be spectacular this time of year. The wildflowers would be in bloom, covering the hills in a wash of riotous color. Hopefully Jaskier isn't allergic.
They should be able to make it up to the meadows before they have to turn back, barring any bad luck. Even so, riding through the woods is pleasant too-- the new leaves are vibrantly green and provide comfortable shade from the afternoon sun. Birds twitter in the branches, flitting between them with flashes of bright plumage.
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There's no dumping questions on Geralt while he's being guided this time, and he's unsure if he should even start conversation when the man still hasn't apologized for that comment about his singing. There's a problem: he hates silence... luckily, it doesn't last long. The tree leaves rustle and the birds, bright and colorful as Jaskier would some times dress himself, sing for them as they pass. It's a beautiful, peaceful place, and Jaskier is in love.
He takes a short video with his phone and soon finds himself humming one of his own songs, inspired by the natural sounds of the forest. He should record something properly here some time, he decides. His style would fit so perfectly in this magical forest, wouldn't it? He's already so enchanted with the idea that his humming has to become actual singing. Because when doesn't it when it comes to him?
"♪ O let the land come at you, love, with all its sand and sin a-singing. A song you once knew well's begun, run until your lungs are numb. ♪" It's nothing like when he sang that little teasing song for Geralt before - this time his voice is deeper and filled with emotion, lyrics coming from his very core. It's personal. "♪ Now let the earth a-tumble, love, and humble you withal, keep running. It's not from what we run that drums, but what's to come, what’s to come. ♪"
And if Geralt decides to insult him again, well. Jaskier is sure the forest can provide him with something to throw at that white head.
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He starts humming as the gentle uphill climb starts to level out, signalling that they're getting closer to the fields, then shortly after breaking into actual song. His voice really isn't as bad as Geralt implied-- the insult was more for the sake of riling him up than anything. He's got a nice tenor, he can carry a tune, though anything beyond that is past Geralt's musical knowledge. He seems fine. Next rising star? Who the fuck knows. But apparently good enough for YouTube.
"One of yours?"
It didn't sound like anything that he'd usually hear on the radio, so maybe it was one of Jaskier's original compositions. He must do something other than sing ironic cover songs, right?
Just up ahead, the trees thinned out into meadowland, bathed in the warm, golden afternoon sun. As the horses walked out from underneath the tree cover, the vast fields of wildflowers were in full bloom before them, stretching out across the hills. There's a dirt path that cuts through the meadow, just wide enough that two horses could walk abreast, and that's what Geralt guides Roach along. The horse briefly turns her head to snatch up a few of the bright flowers to contentedly chomp on as she walks, though Geralt doesn't let her get too many of them. She's got plenty of good food back at the barn, after all.
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"Yeah. How did you know?"
A lucky guess, maybe? Or does he truly have the ear to detect when a musician sings their own lyrics? He sincerely doubts it after the previous jabs. Maybe the song just rings a bell because of his daughter and he shouldn't be reading too much into this.
The view that suddenly welcomes them takes him out of his thoughts, and Jaskier can only gasp and stare for a moment. The colors are vibrant, the aromas sweet, the sun warm, the light bright - it's simply perfect, and Jaskier thinks he's found a little piece of heaven. Which means, of course, he is getting inspired.
"To see the world in a grain of sand and heaven in a wildflower..." Wililam Blake is interrupted, though, when they come closer and the flowers become more than a bunch colors lumped together. The shape is clear now, they're identifiable. "These are buttercups!"
Laughing at the coincidence (or shall we call it destiny?), Jaskier makes Pegasus slow down to fall behind Geralt and Roach so he can have room to jump off the horse and let his fingers touch the flowers. And with Jaskier being Jaskier, it only takes a couple of seconds before he's taking a few, one for his own ear and the rest for Pegasus' mane.
"This isn't bad for his hair, is it?" He asks after he's already braided three little flowers that look incredibly pretty among all the white.
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It isn't important, though, because Jaskier is enthralled by the field of flowers that stretches out in front of them. He quotes something that's probably poetry-- he seems like the type-- and identifies one of the many kinds of flowers that are blossoming near the path. Buttercups, bursting from the earth in clusters of brilliant yellow. The musician stops Pegasus at the side of the path and dismounts, and Geralt gives a gentle tug on the reins to stop Roach, too. Can't leave the guy behind.
He watches with bemusement as Jaskier picks buttercups and sticks one of them behind his ear, saving the other ones for braiding into Pegasus' long mane. He's surprisingly efficient at braiding, and it doesn't take him long at all to start weaving the flowers into the horse's hair.
"Should be fine," he says. "Horses don't usually eat buttercups. Tastes bad."
Which is good, because they're poisonous, too. Only horses in overgrazed pasture with nothing else to eat would resort to eating buttercups. The point of this trail ride isn't really for Jaskier to get off of the damn horse and braid his hair like they're middle school girls at a sleepover, but Jaskier's also paying for this time. So if he wants to spend his hard-earned YouTube money on standing around in a meadow, picking buttercups, that's his prerogative. It's all the same to Geralt.
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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."
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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."
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His tone is mocking, but turns out, he actually keeps his word. Seeing as Geralt obviously isn't interested in chitchatting, Jaskier hums or sings the rest of the ride, only stopping to take the occasional picture or to talk to Pegasus himself. There's a comment here and there for Roach, as well. The place is absolutely beautiful, and it keeps Jaskier's attention enough not to be an annoying brat. The colors, the sounds, the aromas... it's the relaxing time he needed, and he can already fill inspiration coming to him with its needy claws that won't let go of his brain until he gets home and writes it all down.
He loves it. Hopefully one day he can arrange something to work here, just him, his guitar and a picnic blanket.
The buttercup is still behind his ear when they make it back to the ranch, and he plans to keep it there on the ride home (maybe he could press it inside one of his poetry books). Rubbing down the horses is quite nice and not something he used to do a lot when he was a child - it helps seeing the horse as an actual animal and companion and not just a ride he just got off from, bonding with him. Jaskier makes sure to give him some last nice parting words and a good pat on his neck together with a thank you, I'll see you soon. Others would probably try out different horses, but honestly, Jaskier is already sold on this one. He's made a friend today, and he's loyal to his friends until the end.
As soon as he picks his things up, Jaskier asks for an Uber before going to Geralt, knowing he'll have a small wait ahead of him. What he doesn't see coming, however, it's that price. Both his eyebrows quickly go up, disbelief written all over his face.
"What do I look like, a charity case?" Shaking his head, Jaskier reaches into his bag for his wallet (which is, of course, as extra as he is) and grabs two 100s. He folds them together, though, to hide one with the other, before handing them to Geralt. "Keep the change." As he closes his wallet, a little bright thing calls his attention: a transparent yellow pick. Grinning with an idea forming in his head, he hands it to Geralt as well. "And this is for your daughter. A thank you for her reccomendation."
A pause as Jaskier gives the man a look over. He's still annoyed by the comment about his voice, and yet... his curiosity (and attraction, obviously) remains. There's a mystery here and he wants to unravel it (as well as unraveling certain pair of pants).
"Old or not, you do have a phone, right?" He hands Geralt his own, the new contact screen open. "Give me your number so I can plan my visits in the future. That way I won't be around your daughter, too, just like I promised." It's a pity because he does like meeting the fans and getting attention, although on the other hand, it'd be nice to keep this as a calm, secret spot away from everything. He should leave it there, try to work things up through a couple of messages maybe, but he still can't stop his mouth from asking- "Do you have a favorite song?"
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And this is more of that... odd behavior, the kind of thing that he would assume is flirting if Jaskier had been a woman. Geralt doesn't usually give out his private number, not when he has a landline for the business; he ought to tell Jaskier to call that, like everyone else. It's not like he's special just because Pegasus likes him and he's odd and rides well and Geralt took him up for a private trail ride.
Geralt takes the phone from him with a huff and enters in his name and number. This is purely for Ciri's benefit, he thinks-- it's just to look out for her and make sure that she's kept well away from strange men. And, also, it's probably not great for his daughter to harass one of his customers, even if he is YouTube famous or whatever. Then, just as he hands the phone back, Jaskier asks him about his favorite song.
He considers the question for a moment, and replies, "Yeah."
Then he turns, gives him the kind of curt good-bye that he usually does when he leaves a conversation, and heads right back down to the barn to finish up his work for the day. He'd answered the musician's question, anyway-- he'd only asked if Geralt has a favorite song, not what that song is. Teach him to be specific.
Later that night, Ciri points out that he has a buttercup in his hair. After a bit of prodding, Geralt tells her why, and she's furious that he didn't let her know that the musician was there. After he had gone to bed, his daughter still pouting but a little mollified by the pick that the musician had left for her, he thought about Jaskier's hands and his carefree laugh and Geralt could still feel the spot where his fingers brushed his face.
A few days after the musician left, Geralt finally caves to the pressure and gets a damn smartphone. It has no buttons and it's got too many colorful icons and he barely knows how to work it, but at least he's able to keep the same phone number so he doesn't have to memorize a new one. He transfers all his contacts over, including Jaskier's. Would've been a convenient time to 'lose' it if he wanted to, but...
He keeps it. It's fine.
With Ciri's help, he sets up an Insta-whatsit, under the name KaerMorhenRanch. She helps him take a few nice scenic shots of the barn and grounds for the first posts, and also snaps one of him tacking up Roach. He's lifting the saddle onto her back, the muscles in his arms filling out the sleeves of his t-shirt. He thinks it isn't a particularly good one to post, since Roach isn't even entirely in the frame, but Ciri insists that it'll do well.
It does well. More people start following the Ranch. People also start leaving strange comments, sometimes just a series of incomprehensible emojis, but Geralt ignores that.
Geralt-- or the Ranch, rather-- starts following Jaskier. It's just so that he can scroll back through this guy's feed or whatever and see the kind of stuff that he posts, whether it's appropriate for his daughter to be watching. Ciri huffs when she realizes, still a little upset at him about the whole not telling her that her favorite musician was at the Ranch thing, but Geralt is undeterred. He spends an evening scrolling through all of the posts that Jaskier made, watching a few of his videos. It seems fine-- he swears a little, but there's nothing terribly inappropriate. And what fourteen-year-old hasn't heard fuck by now?
He finds the blond girl from Jaskier's lock screen in a few other photos, and reading the captions tells him that she's his sister. That's... well. That should be nothing, it shouldn't matter at all, but it does, kind of? Geralt decides not to think about it. Further back, he finds a picture of Jaskier with his shirt hiked up, revealing a colorful musical tattoo; a picture of him wearing a shirt saying things about phases of the moon; a series of posts from when he went to a Pride parade in London. He looks brilliantly happy, dressed in bright colors and grinning cheerfully at the camera, flags painted on his cheeks. He recognizes the colors of one of them from the sticker on his guitar case, and that's... another thing that shouldn't matter. Jaskier is a customer, his personal life isn't Geralt's business.
Jaskier's next cover that he puts up on his YouTube account-- because Geralt follows him there now, too, but from a more discreet gmail account-- is Stacey's Mom. Against his better judgement, Geralt posts a comment.
whitewolf 1 minute ago
cougars love a babyface
Is it immature? Yes. But who's going to judge him for one little immature comment?
Geralt really shouldn't enjoy all of this, though-- the YouTube channel, the Instagram, the text messages-- as much as he does in the following days, weeks. The messages should be all to the point, purely business, just Jaskier asking Geralt when Pegasus is available or when he could go up on the trails. It shouldn't be the musician asking him what he's doing and Geralt sending him back a picture of his boots immediately after Roach had shit on them. It's too friendly, too familiar.
He does it anyway.
got the afternoon free if you want to go up on the trail
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