whatupbuttercup | PSL Horsetrading with Monsterbytrade

To the surprise of positively no one, Jaskier was a bit discerning when it came to purchasing anything of significant value. He picked his cremes and soaps out with care, sampled and carefully balanced the perfumes he carried, gauged and tested the accouterments he kept for the care of his lute--and his clothes, the ridiculous care he took in picking fabric and trim would have driven anyone but the tailor themselves to distraction. None of this had ever been inflicted on Geralt of Rivia directly--Jaskier tended to take the day to shop, whenever they were near a major city and Geralt was suitably occupied with hunting.

This time, however, Geralt had to come with him.

Jaskier had coin enough for most trinkets and niceties--but a horse? A horse was a pricey thing and he would have to encroach into the Witcher's purse if he planned on picking out any creature that could tolerate their particularly dangerous brand of wandering.

Fortunately, for all the sound and fury of Oxenfurt, there were a wealth of horse ranches in the surrounding farmland. They had no shortage of beasts to pick from and, with the market days of the big city, it was an easy task to see the lot of them lined up and ready for sale.

Jaskier picked through the herds (literal and figurative) and examined each horse that caught his eye. He hummed, spoke to them, twined his fingers through their manes, and made clucking noises with his tongue whenever one was deemed inappropriate or unworthy. There were more than a few that he fussed over for long stretches of time, but each failed some unspoken test and was given a sad pat on their long snouts as the bard bade them farewell.

They'd started at dawn, just as the first traders had arrived, and late afternoon was creeping into evening as they wandered. A dozen dealers had their stock sorted through and found wanting and, all the while, Jaskier darted to and fro--eagerly searching for something he couldn't explain.

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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.

Damn it all.

It was better off that Geralt wasn't the mind-reader that Yennefer was-- he might have thrown Jaskier into the fountain and shook the hands of horse-thieves before going back to the inn and getting stunningly drunk. Instead he stood opposite the two thugs who decided to physically bar the larger man from their fellow at the fountain and exhaled slowly. "Jaskier. Just--"

But just what was left for another moment, because the man with the knife took Geralt's words to mean that he was distracted, and lunged at him with a knife. His lunge was too long, sloppy in its overstretch, and the witcher moved liked water. A step to the side seemed slow for its precision and as the knife and the man's arm slipped into the space that he had occupied a moment before, Geralt brought an arm down from above. The thief screamed as his ulna snapped and the knife he dropped in pain was caught off-handed before hitting the ground and launched cleanly at his gaping friend even as Geralt was using his crouch to shoulder check the injured man off his feet and onto the ground. The knife stuck into the other's hip and he too dropped with a cry.

It all took less than twenty seconds. Geralt straightened without bothering to retrieve the knife and started toward the third man who was still being very helpful.

Geralt, as expected, thoroughly trounced the two thugs who'd come at him. Jaskier hadn't watched but there was a whole plethora of terrifying sounds as Geralt snapped a bone or two, as he made a grown man shriek like a little girl, as he was flung to the ground--then another shriek and thud. Really it was grand little tune, very catchy. Jaskier, in the twenty odd seconds that required, had been faced with a then panicky gentleman who was more than eager to not be stabbed.

He'd moved in, ready to rearrange the bard's face, when Geralt had started thrashing people. Fortunately, he only got one off kilter punch off before he realized his erstwhile friends were not on the winning side. His meaty fist put a rather impressive series of wrinkles into the front of Jaskier's doublet, but he let go as soon as Geralt swung around. Indeed, the moment the Witcher had eyes on him, the fellow was more than happy to back up and let them handle the horse themselves.

"That's right! Get out of here!" Jaskier cried after the man as he bolted, terrified, from the square. Jaskier's glower was a bit cocksure--it was the adrenaline he was sure--but he felt it was earned. It wasn't every day someone took a punch to the face without so much as stumbling. His jaw barely hurt at all. (He felt rather rough and tumble, considering he hadn't done anything at all.)

The horse, in the interim, had stuck its head beneath the fall of water at the center of the fountain and was luxuriating in it. When all the kerfuffle had ended, it pulled its head out and shook it, either oblivious or uncaring of the violent scuffle that had happened in its immediate vicinity.

Geralt waded into the fountain, ignoring both the man running and his friends on the ground. He took Jaskier's chin in a hand carefully to lift it for a look-- the bard was clearly high on adrenaline-- but it seemed that at worst he'd have a bruise in the morning. Geralt turned his attention then to the horse.

The horse who shook a mane-full of water in his face.

With a dark sigh, Geralt lifted a hand to wipe his eyes and brought his fingers to his lips to give a quick and piercing whistle. The kelpie's head whipped in his direction, ears pricked (as probably had most of the horses in the neighboring barn) and Geralt held up a palm for it to look at as he turned to Jaskier. "Sing to it," he hissed. "Get it back to the barn, Jaskier. Now."

Unfortunately for Geralt, Jaskier all but gasped with delight when the Witcher demanded he sing. This made twice in one day! Jaskier was still high on the delight of winning a fight (technically), so he threw his arm up and drew a deep breath. He grasped the first song that came to mind, a delightful ditty about a milkmaid and a merchant, and broke into bright and cheerful song.

The gold horse stared at Geralt's hand for a moment and then its head swiveled with delight as Jaskier started singing. It bounded out of the fountain and shook itself off, flinging water droplets across anyone and anything in the surrounding space, and then all but skipped after Jaskier as the bard walked back to the stables.

In a very, very odd turn of events: Jaskier found the stable doors both closed and latched. The stalls were closed properly as well. Not a single thing was amiss, apart from the golden horse being on the wrong side of the walls. Fortunately, Cantata was more than happy to listen to him sing as he opened the stable doors, led the horse in, and went about resettling it in its stall.

Roach, however, was less enthralled by the music and seemed rather annoyed on whole.

To Jaskier's shock, as he walked the stallion past her stall, Roach leaned her head out and snapped at him. (Cantata, not the bard--his heart might have broken if she'd snapped at him.) She caught some of Cantata's mane in her teeth, a bit rather close to his ear, and gave him a sharp tug. The distracted fellow didn't react quickly and his poor head clunked hard against the door to Roach's stall. She let him go then and huffed, irritably, as he gave her a dazed look.

The stallion appeared...both confused and duly chastised as he meandered back into his stall.

The song definitely made Geralt want to dunk Jaskier, but the impulse was pushed down and he gave the pair room before following after out of the fountain, dripping water behind him on his way to the stables. It seemed that no one was in a hurry to assist with the horse now, which was well enough, and also no one seemed keen to help the two men still crying on the ground-- which was better. He watched Jaskier undo the stable door... which was odd. Perhaps the stable boy had closed it after the horse had gotten out? He supposed it was a possibility except that the fountain was in clear view from here and he thought that a blind man would probably be hard-pressed to forget such a mount.

He was standing and examining the latch when he heard the commotion; he caught the kelpie's head jerking back from the post and the release of Roach's teeth--

And all of a sudden, as wet as he was, Geralt was feeling much better. Hay stuck to his wet boots as he came into the barn and stopped in front of Roach's stall. She hung her head and he scratched behind her ears until he got a nudge in the chest. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice low and positively sweet.

PSL Horsetrading with Monsterbytrade

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