"We'd be luckier if you fell on your lute," Geralt muttered, shrugging his shoulders as if missing the weight of his sword, left in the room with the rest of their things. Almost all the rest of their things.
Jaskier was going to sing to the horses.
Fuck.
The market seemed to roll out before them from out of the fog as they walked down the hill, their steps carried forward by the pluck of strings. It was only the best sleep that he'd had in weeks that kept him in a frame of mind to deal with the obvious debacle that lay in front of him. The sounds of horseflesh were muted by the the weather but once they'd gotten closer, Geralt's suspicions were confirmed. "More than yesterday," he said, in a tone that supplied thanks to anything holy as an addendum. Perhaps there would be something that Jaskier would confer his blessings upon so that they could get out of Oxenfurt and back to getting the money to get him another sword.
Though the morning wore on, the fog wore off, and Jaskier was still clucking and cooing and walking away.
Ah, except. Now the lute had been added in.
Just before lunch, Geralt had finally just leaned himself against a paddock fence and began to navel-gaze. He was sure that Jaskier would collect him when he found something. If he found something. If he ever found anything.
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Jaskier was going to sing to the horses.
Fuck.
The market seemed to roll out before them from out of the fog as they walked down the hill, their steps carried forward by the pluck of strings. It was only the best sleep that he'd had in weeks that kept him in a frame of mind to deal with the obvious debacle that lay in front of him. The sounds of horseflesh were muted by the the weather but once they'd gotten closer, Geralt's suspicions were confirmed. "More than yesterday," he said, in a tone that supplied thanks to anything holy as an addendum. Perhaps there would be something that Jaskier would confer his blessings upon so that they could get out of Oxenfurt and back to getting the money to get him another sword.
Though the morning wore on, the fog wore off, and Jaskier was still clucking and cooing and walking away.
Ah, except. Now the lute had been added in.
Just before lunch, Geralt had finally just leaned himself against a paddock fence and began to navel-gaze. He was sure that Jaskier would collect him when he found something. If he found something. If he ever found anything.