Yennefer looks positively taken by this revelation, eyes wide and smile holding her mouth just agape. Jaskier has not taken leave of all his senses (despite the alcohol), but even he is just a mortal man. In that moment he is struck by how beautiful she is; her delight, her charm, the feeling of her attention and how it shifts with each clever thought, each has him entranced. She is lovely, of course, but that's a given. (It doesn't hurt, but he's quite used to that thought.)
The sky is blue, Witchers are grouchy cunts, and Sorceresses are beautiful.
This interaction, though, the way she clutches his arm in a mock hug, all eager joy, this is so new and so unlike what he has seen before. It's personal and touching and has Jaskier's whole tender heart snared in an instant. Like a rabbit in a trap he finds himself without his feet beneath him, stomach flipped, caught up and stuck.
He wonders, briefly, if this is what Geralt saw in her...but he somehow doubts Geralt ever saw her this way. Geralt is not the sort of fellow to inspire this reaction in people. (Which, oh dear, means that he is special and this whole...moment is his and his alone.)
He manages to just stare, embarrassed, and thankfully the sensitivity of the topic covers the sudden flush that takes his face.
Oh, but then she is complimenting him--and it hits much harder now. It takes some real effort to chuckle and demure--fortunately he has alcohol to help with that. He jauntily lifts his cup and takes a quick drink.
"Well, it helps that my name is not actually Jaskier," he admits with a slight shrug. Herald by his own merit--what a grand compliment. She hadn't ever bothered to look into him--he was just the bard. Ah, that was all he ever wanted in life--
"It's Julian Alfred Pankratz de Lettenhove," he announces very quietly with some false pomp before returning to his standard volume. He learned long ago that mentioning his family name or their duchy of origin would get him attention and favors he did not care at all for. Being hired as a bard because someone sought his father's Political Favor was...well it stung in more ways than one.
"Which is far too much for a stage name. But...beyond that, what do you want to know?"
Mercy of mercies, he has suddenly run out of words and the topic has just shifted to himself. How staggering--he will blame the alcohol, later.
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The sky is blue, Witchers are grouchy cunts, and Sorceresses are beautiful.
This interaction, though, the way she clutches his arm in a mock hug, all eager joy, this is so new and so unlike what he has seen before. It's personal and touching and has Jaskier's whole tender heart snared in an instant. Like a rabbit in a trap he finds himself without his feet beneath him, stomach flipped, caught up and stuck.
He wonders, briefly, if this is what Geralt saw in her...but he somehow doubts Geralt ever saw her this way. Geralt is not the sort of fellow to inspire this reaction in people. (Which, oh dear, means that he is special and this whole...moment is his and his alone.)
He manages to just stare, embarrassed, and thankfully the sensitivity of the topic covers the sudden flush that takes his face.
Oh, but then she is complimenting him--and it hits much harder now. It takes some real effort to chuckle and demure--fortunately he has alcohol to help with that. He jauntily lifts his cup and takes a quick drink.
"Well, it helps that my name is not actually Jaskier," he admits with a slight shrug. Herald by his own merit--what a grand compliment. She hadn't ever bothered to look into him--he was just the bard. Ah, that was all he ever wanted in life--
"It's Julian Alfred Pankratz de Lettenhove," he announces very quietly with some false pomp before returning to his standard volume. He learned long ago that mentioning his family name or their duchy of origin would get him attention and favors he did not care at all for. Being hired as a bard because someone sought his father's Political Favor was...well it stung in more ways than one.
"Which is far too much for a stage name. But...beyond that, what do you want to know?"
Mercy of mercies, he has suddenly run out of words and the topic has just shifted to himself. How staggering--he will blame the alcohol, later.