They hadn't been here an hour and this was already one of the least pleasant experiences of Jaskier's entire life. The dress code hadn't been mentioned in the letters, either from his cousin or from his mother, and Jaskier's gold doublet looked positively excruciating next to the finer, more delicate fare around them. He may as well have shown up in full Nilfgaardian regalia.
Geralt followed in tow as Ethan dragged him out and, mercy of mercies, remained at his side even as his cousin drifted off to tell everyone that the beloved son had returned from his worldly travels and time as a tradesman. There were a few relatives here that Jaskier truly cared for, some younger cousins who were probably confined to the house whilst everyone drank and made "merry" on the lawn, but he could find none of them in the sea of white.
Geralt, wonderful, clever Geralt dragged him away from some distant relatives, past the edge of the floor and under a tree and Jaskier finally, finally had a moment to breathe. (For just a moment he'd been horrified that he had promised to introduce Geralt to someone but, no, anyone he might've was trapped in the house.) Jaskier was breathing like he'd run a mile by the time they stopped and gamely resisted the urge to drag his hand through his hair as he formed an answer.
"Well--ah--that's sort of multifaceted, my friend," Jaskier admitted a bit awkwardly. "You're here for...well...this and one other thing, unimportant, not worth fretting over--I, on the other hand, am here for a few reasons....
"Primarily...the woman being wed was once my best friend," Jaskier said and there was a strained, sad note to it. "And I swore to her a blood oath, when we were very young, that I would...well, she has barred me from handing her off to her husband for many reasons, but I have to attend, at least."
Jaskier took a deep breath, then, and seemed to calm a bit. With only Geralt standing and staring at him, his expression vaguely impatient, some normalcy began to settle over the bard once again.
"I have...also decided to try and take this opportunity to be...very thoroughly disinherited. That will involve a conversation with my parents, in person. It seemed...easier than faking my death, when I first considered it...but I think I might've been wrong."
He turned that pained, false smile on Geralt and it covered his grimace nicely.
"On the plus side, if I manage it, then Iris will probably forgive me for...everything shy of fucking up her wedding's aesthetic. More liquor?"
no subject
Geralt followed in tow as Ethan dragged him out and, mercy of mercies, remained at his side even as his cousin drifted off to tell everyone that the beloved son had returned from his worldly travels and time as a tradesman. There were a few relatives here that Jaskier truly cared for, some younger cousins who were probably confined to the house whilst everyone drank and made "merry" on the lawn, but he could find none of them in the sea of white.
Geralt, wonderful, clever Geralt dragged him away from some distant relatives, past the edge of the floor and under a tree and Jaskier finally, finally had a moment to breathe. (For just a moment he'd been horrified that he had promised to introduce Geralt to someone but, no, anyone he might've was trapped in the house.) Jaskier was breathing like he'd run a mile by the time they stopped and gamely resisted the urge to drag his hand through his hair as he formed an answer.
"Well--ah--that's sort of multifaceted, my friend," Jaskier admitted a bit awkwardly. "You're here for...well...this and one other thing, unimportant, not worth fretting over--I, on the other hand, am here for a few reasons....
"Primarily...the woman being wed was once my best friend," Jaskier said and there was a strained, sad note to it. "And I swore to her a blood oath, when we were very young, that I would...well, she has barred me from handing her off to her husband for many reasons, but I have to attend, at least."
Jaskier took a deep breath, then, and seemed to calm a bit. With only Geralt standing and staring at him, his expression vaguely impatient, some normalcy began to settle over the bard once again.
"I have...also decided to try and take this opportunity to be...very thoroughly disinherited. That will involve a conversation with my parents, in person. It seemed...easier than faking my death, when I first considered it...but I think I might've been wrong."
He turned that pained, false smile on Geralt and it covered his grimace nicely.
"On the plus side, if I manage it, then Iris will probably forgive me for...everything shy of fucking up her wedding's aesthetic. More liquor?"