Jaskier's face lights up with honest and full-fledged joy and he lets his hand fall from her hair to the lute on the table. He snatches it up and spins out of his seat with a flourish--clearly a move to impress her. The barmaid frowns at him but gestures to the far wall and he offers her a bow and his thanks as he saunters away and into the empty space left for minstrels like him.
Well, for minstrels.
There weren't any others like him.
He starts his set with a jig, something energetic and bright that plays to the flush on his cheeks and the smile he cannot tramp down. It is a crass and bawdy song but his fingers are classically trained and the flourishes, the vibrato are filled with musicality beyond the simple tune. He winks and dances and sashays through tables and it's clear he loves everything about this--he loves the crowd, the eyes, the awkward smiles and open delight. He flits to and fro and pours his heart into his singing.
Jaskier falls into a rhythm, a familiar set of songs. He sings about the Fishmonger's Daughter, about Drunken Sailors in the Early Hours, about The Surf in Cidaris, the Streets of Oxenfurt at Night, and falls into an old classic without realizing he's done it. Toss a Coin resounds through the room and, once he hits the chorus, some of his delight fades--he masks it well, especially in the face of the wonder and singing of the crowd, but it lingers. Someone requests the song he sang for her, Her Sweet Kiss--the barmaid, he thinks, and she looks a bit combative when she does.
Jaskier smiles at her but already he can feel his delight waning. Still, he puts on a good show, it is what he does, and as it is a slow ballad, he can end his set with ease as the song finishes. It is meant to be sung for a crowd, that much is clear when he starts, and his voice breaks on that same line, on the lines that hurt, and the crowd--they go a bit strange, honestly.
He's never gotten this reaction before so, when he smiles sadly and bows, his addled brain cannot quite understand the looks that are aimed at him. They look...piteous? Annoyed? It's very unusual. Sympathetic sadness, misty eyes, those he is used to, but this--they almost look reproachful? Had he offended the barmaid, was she very beloved?
He cannot find her as he looks over the crowd.
"And I thank you, good people of Temeria! May your evening be kind and your drinks deep!"
His flourish does not earn applause and he feels eyes on him as he returns to his seat. They linger a moment and then, one by one, drift away from Yennefer and he. He is deeply discomfited and he casts a questioning gaze at the sorceress. Had he done a bad job of it? Was he a slurring drunken mess? He hadn't thought so but--this was...confusing.
He doesn't notice the looks that linger on Yennefer, nor the animosity that has built around them. His world is too narrow for that, right now. At the very least, he had warned her what most people thought that song was about.
no subject
Jaskier's face lights up with honest and full-fledged joy and he lets his hand fall from her hair to the lute on the table. He snatches it up and spins out of his seat with a flourish--clearly a move to impress her. The barmaid frowns at him but gestures to the far wall and he offers her a bow and his thanks as he saunters away and into the empty space left for minstrels like him.
Well, for minstrels.
There weren't any others like him.
He starts his set with a jig, something energetic and bright that plays to the flush on his cheeks and the smile he cannot tramp down. It is a crass and bawdy song but his fingers are classically trained and the flourishes, the vibrato are filled with musicality beyond the simple tune. He winks and dances and sashays through tables and it's clear he loves everything about this--he loves the crowd, the eyes, the awkward smiles and open delight. He flits to and fro and pours his heart into his singing.
Jaskier falls into a rhythm, a familiar set of songs. He sings about the Fishmonger's Daughter, about Drunken Sailors in the Early Hours, about The Surf in Cidaris, the Streets of Oxenfurt at Night, and falls into an old classic without realizing he's done it. Toss a Coin resounds through the room and, once he hits the chorus, some of his delight fades--he masks it well, especially in the face of the wonder and singing of the crowd, but it lingers. Someone requests the song he sang for her, Her Sweet Kiss--the barmaid, he thinks, and she looks a bit combative when she does.
Jaskier smiles at her but already he can feel his delight waning. Still, he puts on a good show, it is what he does, and as it is a slow ballad, he can end his set with ease as the song finishes. It is meant to be sung for a crowd, that much is clear when he starts, and his voice breaks on that same line, on the lines that hurt, and the crowd--they go a bit strange, honestly.
He's never gotten this reaction before so, when he smiles sadly and bows, his addled brain cannot quite understand the looks that are aimed at him. They look...piteous? Annoyed? It's very unusual. Sympathetic sadness, misty eyes, those he is used to, but this--they almost look reproachful? Had he offended the barmaid, was she very beloved?
He cannot find her as he looks over the crowd.
"And I thank you, good people of Temeria! May your evening be kind and your drinks deep!"
His flourish does not earn applause and he feels eyes on him as he returns to his seat. They linger a moment and then, one by one, drift away from Yennefer and he. He is deeply discomfited and he casts a questioning gaze at the sorceress. Had he done a bad job of it? Was he a slurring drunken mess? He hadn't thought so but--this was...confusing.
He doesn't notice the looks that linger on Yennefer, nor the animosity that has built around them. His world is too narrow for that, right now. At the very least, he had warned her what most people thought that song was about.