![]() Well, and some fellow named ‘Geralt of Rivia’, but he could worry about his lady love asking for another man after they were reunited in romantic bliss.Īlso, he really did need to teach her how to spell. His soulmate, his heart cried, reaching across the empty void of loneliness to speak only to him. ![]() Finally, he came to the most wondrous conclusion. Then, he tried to remember when he was last so drunk he wouldn’t have noticed this sort of thing. The moment he went begging the family for gold was the moment he curled in a heap and began to smell like a road side shit.Īll-in-all, the whole idea took on a promising appeal when he decided that practice produced results, rolled up his sleeves (in an entirely impractical move considering the weather, but it was illustratively illuminating and ideal for the future accounts of his mindset for the new adventure!) and realized, rather suddenly, that a large slap-dash message had been spilled across his arm in a foreign hand.įirst, he licked his thumb and tried to rub it off. It was a bit chillier than he’d prefer - well, honestly, it was a threat to his manhood in his current wardrobe, but indoor comfort would require paying for next season’s board in Oxenfurt and Jaskier was more than a few pennies short to be staying now that he was a graduated student. Which he did one crisp spring morning, winter only beginning to lift her skirts for spring, the saucy little minx. As satisfying as it was to write heckling notes about Valdo’s poor life choices, Jaskier had more important things to do. Jaskier was looking for a grand tale of heroics and wonder, because he was a proper servant to the art. That was rather the point of the whole thing. It was only a matter of time before it attracted rats in the night and then, oh, then, Jaskier would be there to record every detail for posterity! No one believed it stayed greased and twisted naturally. Valdo, obviously, was still utterly ignorant of this fact, what with his new appointment to Cidaris, but Valdo was a hack and his self-aggrandized peacocking was the epitome of all gone wrong with the glorious bardic institution.Īdditionally, his ugly mustache smelled like lard. There came a time in every bard’s journey when the truth settled into their bones, deep and heavy, that a story worthy of song would not simply unravel around them from the reaches of a comfortable court position.
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