whatupbuttercup | PSL Catchall with Conjurechaos

The note is, predictably, an invitation for him to fuck himself. It is carefully worded so that, should Jaskier wish to experience the real thing, he might take it as an offer. Jaskier doesn't and doesn't need to read the note to know its contents. He makes a wordless choked sound and takes a deep breath.

"Because," he says calmly, as calmly as he can manage. "There are fates worse than death, and this is one of them."

It's a bit dramatic but, by the gods', this is a catastrophe and rivalry between bards. If it weren't dramatic, what would the point be? Jaskier considers the cock with the sort of disdain most people level at actual severed limbs. He plucks the ball gag up and holds it out at the end of his fingers--

"Is this of use to you, my dear?" Was it Valdo's enough that it could damn him? If not, it is a worthless trinket and will be cast aside at the first opportunity.

The cock in the box is an insult, but a dangerous one and Jaskier is more clever than Valdo gives him credit for. He glowers down at it and sets it aside. His expression is dark and angry, but there's a bit of mischief in it.

"My dear, I don't suppose you know which courts have a strained relationship with Cidaris?"

All of this is perfect fodder for the spell. One item is enough, several? Well, their success is already guaranteed. That should make her feel wonderful. Right now all she feels is heat in her face and fire in her veins. The both of them together stare at the dreadful, green cock lying in the box for a few moments.

Their time in Temeria was sudden, beautiful and a memory worth cherishing. Valdo's taste in objects of pleasure is predictably gaudy. Thinking of those appetites aimed at Jaskier has a rush of want to hold him to her and restore his thoughts to more pleasant things. That would not make Marx any less odious or get the curse in motion.

"Yes," she takes the gag. It joins the rumpled note in her hands. Both will go into the cauldron. They clatter inside with more force than is needed for the act. Not waiting a moment longer, the objects are on fire. She opens the window to let the smoke out speaking in clipped, angry Elder Speech.

"Mmm? Why yes of course, darling." The smell is not very pleasant at first, more herbs and oils change the burn to something more fragrant as though she were cooking. Keeping her hands busy and speaking prevent her from heading out to find that awful, grinning, green garment clothed rat and doing him in. "King Ethain of Cidaris fancies himself to be a master politician, I have heard he behaves like a foolhardy pirate captain. King Foltest of Temeria has just as much of an ego just....kept in check because of Triss. Between Cidaris and Temeria is Rissberg. It has been steadily growing in power. It is not much of a kingdom so much as a stronghold. And it absolutely is a force to be reckoned with. Several mages stay there, you see."

Now that the items have charred down, she as a pestle to grind up the concoction. "...what are you thinking, Jaskier?"

"The Troubadour of Cidaris has granted me a lovingly sculpted copy of his cock," Jaskier tells her as he sets the box aside on the bed and rises. The sound of burning and the smell of smoke are balms in the moment and he breathes deep, despite that likely being unwise.

"I expect he might regret it if it found its way somewhere it ought not to be. The court of Cidaris might regret him just as keenly," Jaskier tells her and moves to watch as she crushes up the char and ash that Valdo's things have been reduced to.

"Pray tell, is there anyone in Rissberg who might take terrible offense at finding this pretty, personalized thing hiding in someone's bed?"

"Lovely, quite." Hideous. Perhaps it is because he insisted on having the item crafted with veins which to Yennefer's taste look so much less appealing in green. It's like what one would find on a curiously large toad.

There really isn't much left inside the bowl now that isn't ash. The fine metal detailing of the pen has a few chunks in it. That gag had a fasten. It's garbage now more so than it was before. Yennefer looks up from her work with a smile, catching on to his thinking. "You are a delight and from you springs nothing but goodness." If goodness is to be political intrigue and scandal that will have tails wagging for years to come and possibly a children's rhyme if it stays in talk.

"I will find a place for this cock to rest, yes. It would be my pleasure to secure it." Lytta Neyd and Algernon Guincamp were still very much on and off again lovers. This would work. Yes indeed.

Her hands leave her work to cup his face. "What a wonderful disaster."

Jaskier barks a laugh as she compliments him--he is so furious he is nearly shaking, sickened by the item in the box to his very core, but she still manages to bring a smile to his face. Oh, how he adores her. His grin isn't cruel as he looks up, but it's certainly not his kindest.

"I've been called worse," he replies glibly, softly, into the space between them. He knows she's talking about the scandal, but he's done thinking on Valdo for now. Insofar as he can be.

He sighs fondly.

"I did warn you that this would be like a closet full of wet cats, didn't I? If not, I fear this may count as entrapment."

Seeing her dear friend in an indignant huff and annoyance with family or herself in times long past, knowing he is so expressive does not diminish the darkness and obvious fury that plays over his face. Yennefer's thumbs smooth over his cheek. Angry enough to pull resources and punishments out fromn nothing, his cleverness it's own special sort of magic. They couldn't be fixed on a more worthy, more loathsome person than Valdo Marx.

"Jaskier," she tuts gently. He knew what she meant. The whole wreck of it is going to be a fantastic masterpiece. Perhaps with the maestro being such an abrasive personality it truly could be any number of former lovers. Though the stroke of genius could only be so many people.

"Yes, yes you had. I'm not afraid of hissing or scratching. Don't fret." His cheek gets a gentle pat. "Isn't it customary in a performance to carry on no matter what happens? Let's follow suit."

The sentiment was particular to the theater but it was so close he didn't have the heart to correct her. He smiles as she pats his cheek and then leans, peers at her works and wonders.

"Do you need to do much else, my lovely?" Jaskier asks, earnestly curious, because if the answer is no--then they both require a distraction and he knows just the thing. Neither of them have marveled at the self-filling tub yet and he'd even been sure to have a truly impressive array of soaps and salts brought up when he got in.

Admittedly, he also feels more than slightly grimy after dealing with Valdo.

These wonderful allowances between them only make the bridge between them stronger and stronger. Their skills do not have many parallels to draw similarities from. Yennefer tries all the same. Both crafts are complicated and require life long study and devotion, that much is obvious. Passion is key. Aretuza tried to remove it from her, but it only made her stronger. The life of a traveling musician is fueled by passion. Seeing Oxenfurt come alive and being privy to what it is like to have a room full of people burst into Jaskier's song she understands more than she had.

So many people here for the festival driven by emotion, not all of them can be beautiful. Beauty is easy to show, everyone admires it. Ugliness does not. Jaskier's is not repulsive to her at all. If this is as ugly as he gets, he is more precious and mismatched to her company.

The small cast iron cauldron has a matching lid that she places over the top. The precious contents are what she needs to cast the spell. There is far more ash and fragments than needed, still every speck could be vital to the magnitude of their success. Now that it is fixed on she rubs her hands together of it.

"That is all until we need it." And she is feeling very proud of herself to have it done so easily and simply. Anger is a terrific motivator. Spite too, that must be what Valdo runs on when it is not his own ego.

Her eyes move about the room and settle on the tub. "You know, whenever I feel that the world has been unsavory and unpleasant, a bath improves my mood significantly." Surely he was thinking the same thing? Right? "You did say you would show me."

"I did," he declares and reaches to tangle his fingers with hers. He hardly needs to lead her, it is barely half the room away, but he finds he has reclaimed some of the day's energy, some of the wonder and delight of sharing this place with outsiders. Geralt had hated Oxenfurt but even he might've been swayed by the wide inset tub and the carefully crafted faucets.

The copper faucet had been made to look like a swan, why Jaskier hadn't the faintest, but he practically skipped and set Yennefer before it before releasing her hand. He had to stretch to put the stopper into place in the center of the tub, but that was hardly a chore.

"Go ahead, try it, left is hot and right is cold," Jaskier said, delighted.

Hand in hand once more. She hasn't indulged so much since she was a girl. It happens so simply, so suddenly and so normally. Yennefer is happily lead to the very modern arrangement of pipes and knobs. They are still shiny.

"Do you think that they had specifically crafted it to accommodate more than one bather?" Her eyebrow lifts in mischief before she reaches for the tub.

"Draw a cold bath?" She sputters at the thought at goes for the left knob. It gives easily and the pipes gurgle and. "Oh it really is hot." So hot that steam is already rising as it begins to fill the tub. Yennefer laughs at her glib comment and reaches for the cold water. "I see now. That's brilliant."

To think that people would have to wait for so water to be boiled. Magic is the fastest method but this is so wonderfully accessible. "That's all? Easy as that?"

He always delights in watching people as they experience firsts. This was a minor thing and, gods' knew, Yennefer had known more impressive firsts than a bit of mechanical water pumping, but it was still a first. He watches her face as she balks at the idea of a cold bath, then her surprise as the near boiling water pours out of the swan's open mouth. (Why that design, he was truly flummoxed about, but apparently there were worse ones. The horse head faucets were supposedly very alarming.)

Her laugh brightens his smile and he leans to drag his fingertips in the excruciating heat of the pooled water as she twists the cold tap open as well. She looks at the pair and then back at him.

"That is all," Jaskier confirms. "I heard one mason chatting about building something faster, yesterday. He said something about a stall, but I can't imagine why someone would want to rush a bath."

The sound of the water filling the tub is a calming, monotonous, droning sound and Jaskier sighs delightedly. It was the sound of his not having to fill buckets. Glorious.

"Thank you, by the way," he says and has the decency to look a bit chagrined. "For coming to this. For helping with Valdo and, well, everything. I don't tell anyone that I appreciate them enough and you deserve it more than most."

Any time she has a new experience, hope kindles in her heart that not everything in the word is sorted. Years are long, people have proven to be the same tired lot. There are still marvels and discoveries. Simple and still amazing. The swan spewing the water is a curious decor choice. Perhaps no man could properly sculpt a fish. And what fish would have such a long, curved neck? The real treasure is the convenience.

"A child could do it." Which is usually not typical of new inventions. "I'd much prefer a bath to a stall. It's a luxury after all." Chances are when word gets around so many other wealthy cities and townships will want to have their own copper pipes and contraptions. Her own fingers reach to swirl the water. Now it is much more bearable. The water is still rising. The bath will be ready before they are.

The words are so simple from him. He has a gift with words, it's true. Plainly speaking reaches her the most. Yennefer smiles softly, looking to his face. "I would do it again happily. Thank you for trusting me. I can't imagine stomaching his behavior alone. You're spirited and clever, I know you could." But he chose to invite her. She was wanted.

"I could wash your hair this time if you like." The full array of soaps, salts and oils all in one place. It's truly ingenious. The masons are going to be very busy and rich.

PSL Catchall with Conjurechaos

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