Jaskier suddenly felt a bit bereft, what with his arm freed. He took a sip of his drink to prevent himself from pouting about it and then plucked up a piece of bread from the plate between them. It tasted wonderful--enough that he couldn't seem to frown around it when she started using his title--she couldn't possibly mean to do that always, could she?
Oh.
No, she didn't.
He'd never been overly fond of his name, it was exceedingly standard...but, then, he'd never had it handed back to him by someone as charming as her. It made his heart leap, just a twinge, and the question that followed pulled a chuckle out of him.
"Well, as my father once kindly pointed out to me: 'Who in their right mind would let a street minstrel become a Viscount?'" Jaskier explained and tore off another piece of bread. He did not immediately pop this one in his mouth, but gestured with it a bit, instead.
"I presume the opposite logic is true," Jaskier added lightly, "and I realized rather early on that I could not have the name Pankratz de Lettenhove and be anything other than Viscount Julian Alfred the Third."
Gesticulating made this story lighter, less tragic, and he was entirely about that. He had no desire to detail how his family reacted (or reacts) to his current profession, to explain why he has not used his title or the moneys of his estate to aid him on the road, or why he goes to great pains to exist as a nomad. She didn't need to pity him--he might actually take offense at that, or worse, she might go a bit somber and take that smile away from him. He couldn't have with that, not over something as ridiculous as a name he'd given up twenty years hence.
Oh, he had done that hadn't he? He'd introduced himself as Julian all of once when he traveled with Geralt...and he doubted the man had heard him when he did.
Gods' he'd known that man for more than twenty years and he'd never learned his full name. Had never even asked. It took Yennefer, what, an hour or so of conversation and drink to get it from him? (Not that it was a secret, not at all...just, wow.)
He shakes the thought off and smiles at the lovely woman across from him.
"So, rather than contend with things like legacy and title and being announced for roughly an hour each time I take the floor, I became what you see before you: Jaskier, bard of singular renown, tour de force, and wandering poet extraordinaire."
SO DRAMATIC YENNEFER. That's what you and Geralt have in common. You're both emo drama queens.
Oh.
No, she didn't.
He'd never been overly fond of his name, it was exceedingly standard...but, then, he'd never had it handed back to him by someone as charming as her. It made his heart leap, just a twinge, and the question that followed pulled a chuckle out of him.
"Well, as my father once kindly pointed out to me: 'Who in their right mind would let a street minstrel become a Viscount?'" Jaskier explained and tore off another piece of bread. He did not immediately pop this one in his mouth, but gestured with it a bit, instead.
"I presume the opposite logic is true," Jaskier added lightly, "and I realized rather early on that I could not have the name Pankratz de Lettenhove and be anything other than Viscount Julian Alfred the Third."
Gesticulating made this story lighter, less tragic, and he was entirely about that. He had no desire to detail how his family reacted (or reacts) to his current profession, to explain why he has not used his title or the moneys of his estate to aid him on the road, or why he goes to great pains to exist as a nomad. She didn't need to pity him--he might actually take offense at that, or worse, she might go a bit somber and take that smile away from him. He couldn't have with that, not over something as ridiculous as a name he'd given up twenty years hence.
Oh, he had done that hadn't he? He'd introduced himself as Julian all of once when he traveled with Geralt...and he doubted the man had heard him when he did.
Gods' he'd known that man for more than twenty years and he'd never learned his full name. Had never even asked. It took Yennefer, what, an hour or so of conversation and drink to get it from him? (Not that it was a secret, not at all...just, wow.)
He shakes the thought off and smiles at the lovely woman across from him.
"So, rather than contend with things like legacy and title and being announced for roughly an hour each time I take the floor, I became what you see before you: Jaskier, bard of singular renown, tour de force, and wandering poet extraordinaire."