"It's so boring, Julian, they won't let us play with the 'strumets!"
"My papa said that Julian would have to sit with us, he doesn't fit anywhere else."
"Julian is smaller than your papa!"
The cacophonous barrage of questions was so unlike downstairs that it had Jaskier laughing in seconds. As little sense as Jaskier made downstairs, he made perfect sense in this particular room. Their boundless energy and curiosity were things he actively fostered (to the chagrin of their parents) and all of them were elated to see him.
"If he's staying to play he's on our team!" This cry, from one of the older children, was met by a number of gasps and objections regarding fairness. The resounding argument to the contrary, positing that it was, in fact, fair to have Julian pick sides, was a simple one:
"Not fair!"
"Yes it is!"
"Nuh-uh!"
"Yes-huh!"
The argument raged and captivated a good number of the children, but not all of them. One of them, a young girl of about four, caught sight of the Witcher in the doorway. She stared with a careful, hawkish scrutiny, put together what she was seeing, and let out a high pitched wail of delight. She charged at him, clearly unconcerned with his intimidating posture, his dark clothes, or the fact that she probably weighed less than any weapon he'd ever picked up. She was just tall enough that, if she stretched, she could have grabbed his hand. Unfortunately, it was tucked up across his chest, well outside of her reach, so she bounced on her heels, stretched up high, and made grabby hands up at him.
She started a merry chant that sounded rather like 'Wisher' repeated amid girlish squeals, and every other set of eyes in the room snapped to Geralt. Jaskier, who was still chuckling and had his little cousin Tristan with arms wrapped around his neck, looked back and gave Geralt a grin that was--well, alright, it was a bit wicked. Mischievous, really. Definitely smug.
"Everyone, I'd like you to meet--"
His introduction, much like his greeting, was drowned out as all the energy in the room redirected to Geralt. Just over half the children in the room scrambled from Jaskier's side to Geralt's, all wide-eyed and awestruck, and the torrent of questions that fell on him was so similar to the ones thrown at Jaskier, they would be indistinguishable from a distance.
"You're the one the song is about!"
"My mom won't let me sing that song, says it's for louts--"
"I don't have coins, I'm not allowed, will you still be my friend?"
"Wisher--Wisher--Wisher--"
"Did you reaaaaally let that monster eat you to kill it?"
no subject
"It's so boring, Julian, they won't let us play with the 'strumets!"
"My papa said that Julian would have to sit with us, he doesn't fit anywhere else."
"Julian is smaller than your papa!"
The cacophonous barrage of questions was so unlike downstairs that it had Jaskier laughing in seconds. As little sense as Jaskier made downstairs, he made perfect sense in this particular room. Their boundless energy and curiosity were things he actively fostered (to the chagrin of their parents) and all of them were elated to see him.
"If he's staying to play he's on our team!" This cry, from one of the older children, was met by a number of gasps and objections regarding fairness. The resounding argument to the contrary, positing that it was, in fact, fair to have Julian pick sides, was a simple one:
"Not fair!"
"Yes it is!"
"Nuh-uh!"
"Yes-huh!"
The argument raged and captivated a good number of the children, but not all of them. One of them, a young girl of about four, caught sight of the Witcher in the doorway. She stared with a careful, hawkish scrutiny, put together what she was seeing, and let out a high pitched wail of delight. She charged at him, clearly unconcerned with his intimidating posture, his dark clothes, or the fact that she probably weighed less than any weapon he'd ever picked up. She was just tall enough that, if she stretched, she could have grabbed his hand. Unfortunately, it was tucked up across his chest, well outside of her reach, so she bounced on her heels, stretched up high, and made grabby hands up at him.
She started a merry chant that sounded rather like 'Wisher' repeated amid girlish squeals, and every other set of eyes in the room snapped to Geralt. Jaskier, who was still chuckling and had his little cousin Tristan with arms wrapped around his neck, looked back and gave Geralt a grin that was--well, alright, it was a bit wicked. Mischievous, really. Definitely smug.
"Everyone, I'd like you to meet--"
His introduction, much like his greeting, was drowned out as all the energy in the room redirected to Geralt. Just over half the children in the room scrambled from Jaskier's side to Geralt's, all wide-eyed and awestruck, and the torrent of questions that fell on him was so similar to the ones thrown at Jaskier, they would be indistinguishable from a distance.
"You're the one the song is about!"
"My mom won't let me sing that song, says it's for louts--"
"I don't have coins, I'm not allowed, will you still be my friend?"
"Wisher--Wisher--Wisher--"
"Did you reaaaaally let that monster eat you to kill it?"
"You're tall."