Jaskier stumbled after Geralt down the stairs, a half step behind in his confusion and wonder about the stables. The group of rough looking fellows about the square were closing in, despite Geralt's best warnings, and Cantata was prancing delightedly in the fountain with nary a care in the whole world. Jaskier considered the three rough fellows and decided his attention was probably best spent on wrangling the golden horse from the water.
His lute, unfortunately, had been left up in their room.
"Cantata," Jaskier sing-songed and dashed to the fountain. "My mischievous fellow, oh, how did you get out?"
His scolding, while good-natured, was tempered quite a lot by the tall, thin fellow with the knife-blade smile who looked a bare moment away from...let's say: offering to help him. The horse, as Jaskier approached, jumped and splashed in place, and immediately flipped its lovely, sopping wet mane and doused the helpful Samaritan. He must have been wearing his finest shirt because the face he made was rather frustrated.
"It's quite alright, gentlemen, I've got it, no need to fret--" Jaskier assured him at a distance and, helpful man that he must have been, he persisted on getting closer. "Geralt?"
Unfortunately, it looked like the Witcher was going to have to have a firm conversation with the slim man's two helpful friends. They, too, seemed terribly ardent in their desire to help remove the gold horse from the fountain. (And then, ideally, from Jaskier and Geralt's possession.) Why, one of them had even brought a knife--unfortunately both his mates appeared to have forgotten any apples to cut to tempt the creature.
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His lute, unfortunately, had been left up in their room.
"Cantata," Jaskier sing-songed and dashed to the fountain. "My mischievous fellow, oh, how did you get out?"
His scolding, while good-natured, was tempered quite a lot by the tall, thin fellow with the knife-blade smile who looked a bare moment away from...let's say: offering to help him. The horse, as Jaskier approached, jumped and splashed in place, and immediately flipped its lovely, sopping wet mane and doused the helpful Samaritan. He must have been wearing his finest shirt because the face he made was rather frustrated.
"It's quite alright, gentlemen, I've got it, no need to fret--" Jaskier assured him at a distance and, helpful man that he must have been, he persisted on getting closer. "Geralt?"
Unfortunately, it looked like the Witcher was going to have to have a firm conversation with the slim man's two helpful friends. They, too, seemed terribly ardent in their desire to help remove the gold horse from the fountain. (And then, ideally, from Jaskier and Geralt's possession.) Why, one of them had even brought a knife--unfortunately both his mates appeared to have forgotten any apples to cut to tempt the creature.
Damn it all.