The manor was, as most manors are, an unchanging fixture meant to withstand the test of time. Apart from the flowers (which were new), literally nothing about the foyer was different from Jaskier's last memory of it, a decade prior. The bard froze when he entered the house, assaulted by the suddenly familiar patter of background sounds--the clink of glasses, the shuffle of feet against thick rugs, the distant laughter through glass doors--he had a moment of sheer terror as he looked up at the chandelier and felt time fold in on itself.
Had his travels been a dream?
Had he never left?
Surely he hadn't just imagined it all--
Geralt--thank Melitele the Witcher had agreed to come with him--pressed a stemmed glass of wine into Jaskier's hands and he drank it all in one long pull. The maid Geralt had grabbed the drinks from was still nearby and, as Jaskier leaned, she offered him a second glass and took the empty before shuffling away. Jaskier would have downed that one too, in short order, had a voice not resounded from across the hall, just inside those glass double doors.
"Julian Alfred Pankratz! As I live and breathe!"
Jaskier went rigid at Geralt's side and stared in mute horror as one of his cousins approached with arms outstretched and a grin on his face. It was not a happy grin but it could have been mistaken for one--there was a meanness and an excitement to the man (What was his name? Ethan? Fuck if he remembered.) like he was ready to make a scene and watch the fallout.
"You made it! We had been taking bets that you would be waylaid," Ethan greeted as he approached.
If Geralt had thought that Jaskier dressed extravagantly, the bard looked nearly under-dressed next to his cousin. Ethan (or whatever his name was), was clad head to toe in a pristine white jerkin and breeches. His slippers were white with goldwork sewn into the delicate leather. His jerkin had a pattern of whitework and teal beetlewings embroidered into it. It looked like tulips on a white field.
Ethan was larger than Jaskier, but only just. He clapped the bard on the shoulder hard, gripping and shaking him in a familiar, masculine sort of embrace. Then, and only then, did he let his gaze drift across Jaskier to Geralt at his side. It was a darting look, assessing and uncomfortable, and fell away just as quickly as it landed. Clearly Ethan was of the brand of nobility that took uncomfortable slights and wholly ignored them.
Geralt, it seemed, qualified as an uncomfortable slight.
"I see you brought a friend," Ethan commented in a tone that was prescriptively polite and just this side of taunting. "Iris will be delighted."
She would not.
"Wonderful," Jaskier announced faintly and looked sidelong at Geralt, an edge of panic in his face. Ethan ushered him toward the doors and Jaskier went willingly, a vague smile on his face.
"Come, both of you, everyone has been dying to see you again! How long has it been, Julian? It must be years, now. Since you abandoned your education, at least!"
The party in the back was a picture in noble extravagance. White was, apparently, the color of the day. Everyone but the Groom and the groomsmen were clad head to toe in outfits of pristine white. (The groom and his party, by contrast, wore deep burgundy. It was awful.) There was an occasional dash of gold or ivory among the group, flashes of fine color or jewelry, but it was otherwise a sea of blank outfits and brilliant floral arrangements. The only colors that broke up the scene were the servants, each clad in the family livery, that dashed to and fro between groups of laughing and chatting nobility.
At the end of the temporary tile they'd set out to cover the grass, there was a raised dais with a gazebo. The string quartet currently occupied it but, given how the seating faced, it was undoubtedly where the couple would be wed. Ethan dragged them out and, at once, the quiet greetings and snide comments started.
"Julian, my dear, is that you?"
"Bit roadworn aren't you, cousin?"
"I never would have imagined I'd see you in--what is that--Cintran fashion? Oh, Julian--life must be hard for a bard. Hah! See what I did there!"
"So glad you finally deigned to grace us with your presence, Julian."
"Your cousin will be elated that you've taken time from your busy schedule as a vagabond, just to attend her wedding!"
"Getting a bit thin, cousin--busking for food doesn't seem to be a talent of yours."
no subject
Had his travels been a dream?
Had he never left?
Surely he hadn't just imagined it all--
Geralt--thank Melitele the Witcher had agreed to come with him--pressed a stemmed glass of wine into Jaskier's hands and he drank it all in one long pull. The maid Geralt had grabbed the drinks from was still nearby and, as Jaskier leaned, she offered him a second glass and took the empty before shuffling away. Jaskier would have downed that one too, in short order, had a voice not resounded from across the hall, just inside those glass double doors.
"Julian Alfred Pankratz! As I live and breathe!"
Jaskier went rigid at Geralt's side and stared in mute horror as one of his cousins approached with arms outstretched and a grin on his face. It was not a happy grin but it could have been mistaken for one--there was a meanness and an excitement to the man (What was his name? Ethan? Fuck if he remembered.) like he was ready to make a scene and watch the fallout.
"You made it! We had been taking bets that you would be waylaid," Ethan greeted as he approached.
If Geralt had thought that Jaskier dressed extravagantly, the bard looked nearly under-dressed next to his cousin. Ethan (or whatever his name was), was clad head to toe in a pristine white jerkin and breeches. His slippers were white with goldwork sewn into the delicate leather. His jerkin had a pattern of whitework and teal beetlewings embroidered into it. It looked like tulips on a white field.
Ethan was larger than Jaskier, but only just. He clapped the bard on the shoulder hard, gripping and shaking him in a familiar, masculine sort of embrace. Then, and only then, did he let his gaze drift across Jaskier to Geralt at his side. It was a darting look, assessing and uncomfortable, and fell away just as quickly as it landed. Clearly Ethan was of the brand of nobility that took uncomfortable slights and wholly ignored them.
Geralt, it seemed, qualified as an uncomfortable slight.
"I see you brought a friend," Ethan commented in a tone that was prescriptively polite and just this side of taunting. "Iris will be delighted."
She would not.
"Wonderful," Jaskier announced faintly and looked sidelong at Geralt, an edge of panic in his face. Ethan ushered him toward the doors and Jaskier went willingly, a vague smile on his face.
"Come, both of you, everyone has been dying to see you again! How long has it been, Julian? It must be years, now. Since you abandoned your education, at least!"
The party in the back was a picture in noble extravagance. White was, apparently, the color of the day. Everyone but the Groom and the groomsmen were clad head to toe in outfits of pristine white. (The groom and his party, by contrast, wore deep burgundy. It was awful.) There was an occasional dash of gold or ivory among the group, flashes of fine color or jewelry, but it was otherwise a sea of blank outfits and brilliant floral arrangements. The only colors that broke up the scene were the servants, each clad in the family livery, that dashed to and fro between groups of laughing and chatting nobility.
At the end of the temporary tile they'd set out to cover the grass, there was a raised dais with a gazebo. The string quartet currently occupied it but, given how the seating faced, it was undoubtedly where the couple would be wed. Ethan dragged them out and, at once, the quiet greetings and snide comments started.
"Julian, my dear, is that you?"
"Bit roadworn aren't you, cousin?"
"I never would have imagined I'd see you in--what is that--Cintran fashion? Oh, Julian--life must be hard for a bard. Hah! See what I did there!"
"So glad you finally deigned to grace us with your presence, Julian."
"Your cousin will be elated that you've taken time from your busy schedule as a vagabond, just to attend her wedding!"
"Getting a bit thin, cousin--busking for food doesn't seem to be a talent of yours."