[ The first thing Geralt does is just stare. He hasn't seen the bard in a awhile. Months. Which isn't unusual for them; they part ways often. They'd just never parted ways on such a sour note and Geralt's not expecting him to be here. Smelling...like that. Like magic. His nostrils flare just a hint, inhaling the scent that's both familiar and yet not. He's forgotten all about the deer that fled into the woods. ]
Jaskier. [ He blinks once, the surprise in his expression closing away. He puts his crossbow down. Unlike him, Jaskier shows no sign of ears or other beastly changes. But he saw that smoke. Smelled the smoldering embers.
Ah, fuck. He came here to blow steam. Clear his head. Not...dredge up the shit he said that he regrets. (If Jaskier's here, what the hell does that mean?) ] I could ask you the same.
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Jaskier. [ He blinks once, the surprise in his expression closing away. He puts his crossbow down. Unlike him, Jaskier shows no sign of ears or other beastly changes. But he saw that smoke. Smelled the smoldering embers.
Ah, fuck. He came here to blow steam. Clear his head. Not...dredge up the shit he said that he regrets. (If Jaskier's here, what the hell does that mean?) ] I could ask you the same.