The new influx of horses had been a lovely, encouraging sight--more than a few ranchers had been missing the day before. Jaskier had perked up, strumming and humming as they meandered through the throng and Geralt, well, he'd been surprisingly amicable. For the first few hours, at least. To Jaskier's utter frustration, the vast majority of the horses that caught his eye seemed utterly repelled by him.
Yesterday, he'd been able to walk up to nearly any of them, cooing and clucking as he liked, and they'd either ignore him or turn a fond look his way. These horses--oh, they were not the same. When he strummed a soft chord or hummed sweetly at them, they would either wander off, flatten their ears at him, or paw at the ground nervously. He'd had one sweet-faced black horse trot up to him when he started strumming a lullaby, but it hadn't gotten within arm's reach before its ears swiveled with alarm and it bounded off.
The bard was crestfallen--crushed, even--and while Geralt begged off to watch as he wandered through the paddocks, Jaskier had an absurd moment of terror. He wanted to find a horse but, well, what was he going to do if none of these could tolerate the sound of a lute? He couldn't use that as an excuse with the Witcher, he'd been very firm about finding a horse today--but it would be a catastrophe.
Jaskier was so distraught by his sudden conundrum that he stopped playing and just stared at the poor black mare who'd run off. He stood there for a minute or two and was so consumed in the dilema that he didn't notice the horse that came up behind him--at least, not until it huffed impatiently in his hair and chewed at the shoulder of his doublet. He started as it tugged at him, and when he whirled around he actually, honestly, gasped with delight.
"Well--aren't you gorgeous!" Jaskier praised in a bright tone and the horse in front of him stared back, eyes blue as the summer sky, and waited. It huffed again and tried to chew on his arm--no on his lute strap? "Oh, were you listening? How rude of me."
Jaskier strummed a chord and the horse--well, he had rarely seen one look delighted, but it nickered and shuffled and stared at him. It was a gorgeous blonde thing--shimmered like gold in the sun--and its mane had the most delightful bit of curl to it, like the lovely locks of some fair noblewoman. It was a bit thin, and a bit smaller than Roach, but very elegant. It looked like it was the very model that posed whilst someone sculpted heraldry.
It was stunning, positively beautiful, and best yet: it liked his playing.
He sung sweetly about how pretty it was, about how it sparkled in the sunshine, and the horse delighted again, huffing at his head and swishing its lovely tail--it liked his singing as well.
"Geralt!" Jaskier called brightly--he played and meandered back toward the Witcher--the golden horse followed him at a sedate and cheerful pace, drawn after him as surely as if he'd had a lead on it. "Oh! I've found it!"
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Yesterday, he'd been able to walk up to nearly any of them, cooing and clucking as he liked, and they'd either ignore him or turn a fond look his way. These horses--oh, they were not the same. When he strummed a soft chord or hummed sweetly at them, they would either wander off, flatten their ears at him, or paw at the ground nervously. He'd had one sweet-faced black horse trot up to him when he started strumming a lullaby, but it hadn't gotten within arm's reach before its ears swiveled with alarm and it bounded off.
The bard was crestfallen--crushed, even--and while Geralt begged off to watch as he wandered through the paddocks, Jaskier had an absurd moment of terror. He wanted to find a horse but, well, what was he going to do if none of these could tolerate the sound of a lute? He couldn't use that as an excuse with the Witcher, he'd been very firm about finding a horse today--but it would be a catastrophe.
Jaskier was so distraught by his sudden conundrum that he stopped playing and just stared at the poor black mare who'd run off. He stood there for a minute or two and was so consumed in the dilema that he didn't notice the horse that came up behind him--at least, not until it huffed impatiently in his hair and chewed at the shoulder of his doublet. He started as it tugged at him, and when he whirled around he actually, honestly, gasped with delight.
"Well--aren't you gorgeous!" Jaskier praised in a bright tone and the horse in front of him stared back, eyes blue as the summer sky, and waited. It huffed again and tried to chew on his arm--no on his lute strap? "Oh, were you listening? How rude of me."
Jaskier strummed a chord and the horse--well, he had rarely seen one look delighted, but it nickered and shuffled and stared at him. It was a gorgeous blonde thing--shimmered like gold in the sun--and its mane had the most delightful bit of curl to it, like the lovely locks of some fair noblewoman. It was a bit thin, and a bit smaller than Roach, but very elegant. It looked like it was the very model that posed whilst someone sculpted heraldry.
It was stunning, positively beautiful, and best yet: it liked his playing.
He sung sweetly about how pretty it was, about how it sparkled in the sunshine, and the horse delighted again, huffing at his head and swishing its lovely tail--it liked his singing as well.
"Geralt!" Jaskier called brightly--he played and meandered back toward the Witcher--the golden horse followed him at a sedate and cheerful pace, drawn after him as surely as if he'd had a lead on it. "Oh! I've found it!"