Once she has taken her fill from the well of salts in his hands, he smooths both his wet palms together and splits the delicately scented slurry that forms between them. He rubs down her arms, across the back of her neck and over the tops of her shoulders as she pulls a face describing her distaste for court music. Jaskier could giggle, his amusement was so great.
"There was a dance crafted for one of his--a formal little Basse unique to Cidaris," Jaskier tells her, quietly hoping she might've seen it. "The one with all the spinning and the arm's raised bend. Looks ridiculous, if you ask me, but supposedly represents the sun over the ocean."
It was far too academic a thing for parties, but that was why Valdo would never be the best. Her hopes for the Bardic Guilds is charming but it does draw a chuckle out of him.
"My dear, you have met bards before, yes? Put two of us in the same room and we fight like wet cats. Can you imagine what a hundred of us in the same building looks like?"
Jaskier hums, then, and leans to put his chin on her shoulder. His hands start the gentle process of rinsing where he's scrubbed.
"Actually--there is a contest in mid-autumn in Oxenfurt," he says. "Very dry, but full of excessive drama. We all clamor and perform for judges and seek the University's patronage for the next year."
He hadn't tried to gain it in years, not for all the time he'd spent with Geralt. When last he'd gone after it, he had lost quite soundly...but that had been before he left the school. He could probably take it now and the idea of having Yennefer present and in the audience? Oh that was appealing.
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"There was a dance crafted for one of his--a formal little Basse unique to Cidaris," Jaskier tells her, quietly hoping she might've seen it. "The one with all the spinning and the arm's raised bend. Looks ridiculous, if you ask me, but supposedly represents the sun over the ocean."
It was far too academic a thing for parties, but that was why Valdo would never be the best. Her hopes for the Bardic Guilds is charming but it does draw a chuckle out of him.
"My dear, you have met bards before, yes? Put two of us in the same room and we fight like wet cats. Can you imagine what a hundred of us in the same building looks like?"
Jaskier hums, then, and leans to put his chin on her shoulder. His hands start the gentle process of rinsing where he's scrubbed.
"Actually--there is a contest in mid-autumn in Oxenfurt," he says. "Very dry, but full of excessive drama. We all clamor and perform for judges and seek the University's patronage for the next year."
He hadn't tried to gain it in years, not for all the time he'd spent with Geralt. When last he'd gone after it, he had lost quite soundly...but that had been before he left the school. He could probably take it now and the idea of having Yennefer present and in the audience? Oh that was appealing.
"You should come, as my guest."