"I think it was the idea of quiet," Jaskier declares a bit distantly and turns around. His wonder melts away all at once and, quite suddenly, he's filled with a strangely youthful flavor of vigor. It has been so long since he stood in this room that some of his teen-aged self creeps back in as he breaks away from her and goes to look out the windows.
The sight is the same and he lets out a short, bark of a laugh as he looks down on the courtyard.
"My word, how lovely a surprise," Jaskier breathes and turns to look back at her, beaming and delighted. "Of course, yes! As you like, my dear--I haven't been in here in an age."
He moves back to the boxes she gestured to. Whomever had moved them hadn't been in here in months. The outlines of their footprints in the dust had been filled in with a new layer of dust atop. He hauls the lid off of one box and shakes it off idly, knocking the worst of the dust off into a heap. It billows a bit but there's nothing for that. The box has a second bit of linen wrapped wood atop all the papers and he offers her that as a seat whilst dropping the cleaned lid down onto another stack and sitting himself.
"Gods, I think I spent years up here when I was a lad," he says quietly and, in the comfortable silence of the room, it is easy to see why. The sounds of the outside world are muffled and the room has a stable, cool quality to it. The walls are heavily insulated, both for sound and weather, and it clearly sees little foot traffic. It is a forgotten corner in one of the busiest cities on the continent. The sound inside the room resounds but only for a moment before the small space and the items within deaden it.
He wishes, suddenly, that he had his lute. He could have practiced his new song without a soul to overhear it--save, perhaps, Yennefer.
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The sight is the same and he lets out a short, bark of a laugh as he looks down on the courtyard.
"My word, how lovely a surprise," Jaskier breathes and turns to look back at her, beaming and delighted. "Of course, yes! As you like, my dear--I haven't been in here in an age."
He moves back to the boxes she gestured to. Whomever had moved them hadn't been in here in months. The outlines of their footprints in the dust had been filled in with a new layer of dust atop. He hauls the lid off of one box and shakes it off idly, knocking the worst of the dust off into a heap. It billows a bit but there's nothing for that. The box has a second bit of linen wrapped wood atop all the papers and he offers her that as a seat whilst dropping the cleaned lid down onto another stack and sitting himself.
"Gods, I think I spent years up here when I was a lad," he says quietly and, in the comfortable silence of the room, it is easy to see why. The sounds of the outside world are muffled and the room has a stable, cool quality to it. The walls are heavily insulated, both for sound and weather, and it clearly sees little foot traffic. It is a forgotten corner in one of the busiest cities on the continent. The sound inside the room resounds but only for a moment before the small space and the items within deaden it.
He wishes, suddenly, that he had his lute. He could have practiced his new song without a soul to overhear it--save, perhaps, Yennefer.