Jaskier made an offended sound in the back of his throat.
"I knew it!" They had been teaching him trade school ditties. He is furious for a moment, both at himself for not having this knowledge, and at that old midwife--but that fades quickly. She'd been very kind. It was possible she was just...not very skilled...or (more likely) that Geralt was just exceptionally skilled. Jaskier sighs and puts it out of mind.
"Nevermind, I'll toss out the nonsense I've got mixed and make something new--" he says and waves his hand at his mess of a pack in the corner. "Should I use tallow as the base, then? Or is that a second string fiction as well?"
He has an array of questions for Geralt and, despite his desire to keep the dire nature of Geralt's injuries largely secret (insofar as he can), each question sheds a bit more light on that first evening. He asks about packing herbs across gaping wounds, asks whether wormwood oil is a good plan atop stitches as he was told, asks about how best to dry and grind these things--though he does crow a bit about how smooth his current, lackluster salves are. (He could go into making toiletries, Geralt, he could--he explained--Why, maybe he'd even start making his own moisturizers.)
Jaskier listens, absorbs, and at one point actually goes to fetch his songbook and take notes.
no subject
"I knew it!" They had been teaching him trade school ditties. He is furious for a moment, both at himself for not having this knowledge, and at that old midwife--but that fades quickly. She'd been very kind. It was possible she was just...not very skilled...or (more likely) that Geralt was just exceptionally skilled. Jaskier sighs and puts it out of mind.
"Nevermind, I'll toss out the nonsense I've got mixed and make something new--" he says and waves his hand at his mess of a pack in the corner. "Should I use tallow as the base, then? Or is that a second string fiction as well?"
He has an array of questions for Geralt and, despite his desire to keep the dire nature of Geralt's injuries largely secret (insofar as he can), each question sheds a bit more light on that first evening. He asks about packing herbs across gaping wounds, asks whether wormwood oil is a good plan atop stitches as he was told, asks about how best to dry and grind these things--though he does crow a bit about how smooth his current, lackluster salves are. (He could go into making toiletries, Geralt, he could--he explained--Why, maybe he'd even start making his own moisturizers.)
Jaskier listens, absorbs, and at one point actually goes to fetch his songbook and take notes.