[Ah, the best way to get on Jaskier's good side is to compliment his one true love. (Not as if he's the crafter of the lute, but. You know.) Jaskier's smile is absolutely pleased, and he shows off a little by laying her across his lap and beginning to play a chord.]
Mm, a middle ground, then. Like blowing the seeds from a dandelion.
[Oh, to find a student who actually appreciates his talents. And he's hardly even heard Jaskier play! He could really use more people complimenting him for nothing in return.]
Well over two decades so far. It's not as if I didn't put in my own bit of work. [Oh, right. He tips his head. Maybe one day he'll be more used to people not recognizing him or his music.] Jaskier, at your service. Why don't you keep going? I'll accompany you. I could use the practice myself.
[ Reynir watches, listening eagerly, as Jaskier plays a chord. It's interesting, how differently he holds it and touches the strings, compared to how Reynir has seen Onni play his kantele. He doesn't know if that's because of the nature of the instruments, or just personal preference and variation. The lute is certainly larger, and louder, and the sound rings for a good long while in the air, even with this idle strumming. ]
Oh! Hmm.
[ That single, simple metaphor is quite useful, actually. Reynir may never have had the chance to learn a musical instrument before, but there are dandelions everywhere in the hills around his village, and he had plenty of time stuck out looking after the flock to get a hell of a lot of practice blowing on them. He brings the recorder up to his mouth and tries again - a steadier, gentler stream of air, and he holds his mouth a bit differently as he does it.
What results isn't exactly genius, but it is a sustained, clear, vibrant single note. Reynir lowers the recorder again, cheeks flushing slightly with delight. ]
That's actually super helpful, thank you!
[ What a stroke of luck, to run into such a kind stranger who is so willing to give both advice and encouragement! Reynir doesn't intend to pay it back with rudeness, but then, tact isn't one of his greatest talents, either. So, when Jaskier mentions how much practice he has, Reynir gives a little laugh and says, with genuine admiration: ]
Oh, wow! So you've been playing longer than I've even been alive!
[ Kids these days... ]
Ah, sorry, forgot my manners! Reynir Árnason. I would love that, but I only know the one song so far.
[ He brings the recorder up to his lips and has to force himself to take a moment and calm down, draw in a deep breath and remember how to hold the thing properly, get his fingers in position, sit up straight and think of the tempo of the tune before he blows the first note.
It's hesitant, and halting, but far less shrill and mangled than what Jaskier had first heard from him. Reynir keeps going, though he pauses and lingers at times, fumbling to switch between some notes, and trying to remember how the notes are supposed to progress. ]
[Jaskier smiles easily. Well. If only it were that easy to please everyone, he'd be surrounded by a right better mood in general! Which was all well. He certainly doesn't mind the new company.
Especially if the sounds become a bit more like notes than, ah, geese honking.]
I'm glad it helps. I --
[He pauses, pursing his lips for a moment. Longer than he's been... alive. Yes. Ah, like Elliot. The sort of nice, backhanded compliments he's getting a little more used to. Not intentionally insulting. Probably. Actually, still a great deal kinder than most.]
Well, Reynir, I suppose you might call me distinguished. In age. Like a fine wine.
[And, of course, very kind and humble. Patient. Patient, too. The minor annoyance crosses his face and is gone again, much more interested in crafting music than holding some idle comment above a boy's head. (Unless Reynir decides to bring up his crow's feet. That's a very sensitive topic, thank you.)]
There. [He begins playing a simple rhythm to provide the beat, only meant to provide background rather than overtake the song.] A much better start.
[It would be kind to call it music, but it's an encouraging start for a budding musician. Jaskier pauses when he does, picking notes back up as he finds the rhythm he needs.] Time will bring confidence, as it does in most things.
[ Oh, dear. Reynir might not have been wise enough to avoid making the comment in the first place, but he definitely recognizes the pursed lips of someone who is delicately avoiding saying what's on their mind. Reynir has prompted that expression quite a few times, in his life. And so he casts his mind back, over what might have caused it, and then with the comment Jaskier makes about aging like wine... he gets it. ]
Oh! Oh, no. I wasn't calling you old, sorry. I was just really surprised. Because, you're like, way too cute to be that much older than me?
[ Reynir's face flushes as he immediately claps the hand not holding his recorder over his mouth. He's just! Making it worse! How did he manage to make it worse!? His apologies come in a hurried and stuttering rush: ]
Oh, no, I! Um! Sorry, I - didn't mean it like that! Honestly, I promise I'm not some creep and I'm not hitting on you or anything, you're being so nice and I was just. I was-! You know, sorry, can we um, can we go back and pretend I just... didn't say anything for these last few minutes? Please?
[ Status level: catastrophe.
But you know when he can't put his foot in his mouth to an atrocious degree? When he's playing his recorder. So he is just... going to do that. Intensely. For a little while. Until he stops wanting the ground to open up and swallow him whole quite so much. ]
[Somehow it's a little relieving to now be the one saying too much, far too fast, exposing his heart on his shoulder. Jaskier feels he must act a little more his age during the outburst. He smiles to himself and eases the tension off of Reynir by deciding to look down at his lute instead. Hard not to feel the heat coming from the boy's face, though.
Unfortunately, Jaskier can talk and play at the same time. The thrills of being a strings master.
Besides, he can't stop himself from laughing.] Don't worry about it. I'll take that as extremely complimentary, thank you. Though I do think it's the first time someone your age has called me cute.
[It's certainly been a while. And he does miss hearing it.] Oh, right, we're pretending you didn't say anything. My apologies. [Oh, this is terrible. Reynir seems the type to very easily tease when his reactions are so explosive.] I'll forget you called me old, then cute, then apparently decided I'm not cute enough to flirt with. Or perhaps too old?
[ On the one hand, it could be much worse. Even studiously avoiding looking at Jaskier, Reynir can hear it in his voice, that he's amused rather than angry, or worse, uncomfortable. So, at least there is that. He would've felt awful if he'd repaid Jaskier's kindness by creeping him out.
On the other hand, Jaskier is talking in that light, joking voice, and even though Reynir knows he's set himself up for some well-deserved teasing, it doesn't stop him from squirming internally and scolding himself for opening his big fat mouth. He pauses playing long enough to answer, with strangled misery: ]
Oh, no! I- wasn't- that's not what I meant- you're not- um
[ He stops his stumbling words and sucks in a long breath, forcing himself to slow down enough to at least manage a complete sentence. Reynir's pretty sure that even his ears are red at this point. ]
... I know even less about flirting than I do about playing music. So. It's- it's not like I'm going around being suave at everyone else but not you.
[ Don't worry, Reynir - no one thinks you are capable of that.
He goes back to playing the recorder, and at first, it is harsh and shrieky again, because his breaths are all screwed up and he's not really focusing on imagining the dandelions, like Jaskier had said. But after a few moments he calms himself enough to regulate the flow of air better, and the sound of the lute helps him to keep going, pushing on through the little tune despite it all. ]
[Oh, no. Jaskier is an ass but he does feel a little bad if he goes too far with it. Reynir's stumbling indicates he is, unfortunately, a little bit of an anxious mess. A little hard to relate if only because Jaskier was also an obnoxious ass when he was Reynir's age.] I'm only teasing, Reynir. Absolutely no offense was taken.
[Jaskier does brighten, however, intrigued by the idea there is something else he could possibly teach.
He can't help but want to spread the language of love, after all. It was the goal of any good poet. Master poet, even. Jaskier plucks a slow tune, giving Reynir his space for a moment as he finds his pace again.] Well, I can always help you be a bit more... suave, as you say, if you're interested. I am, in fact, also a master of the subtler flirtations, the language of courting. Is there a special lady in your life? Special man? A minotaur, perhaps? I'm not judging.
[ Reynir is grateful for the moment to compose himself, as well as the reassurance that he hasn't actually upset Jaskier. That, at least, is a relief. He takes a few moments to just stew in his own discomfort, but his heartbeat steadies as Jaskier plucks that sedate tune, and his face stops feeling quite so hot.
The offer isn't one he expected, and Reynir looks over, asks: ]
Really? Seems like I'd be kind of a lost cause, before you even started.
[ But he is actually considering it; Jaskier's way of speaking does seem, to Reynir, very polished, and he'd certainly had no trouble weaving his words in a way that made Reynir react very strongly. Not hard to extrapolate from that that he really is a master of 'the language of courting' as he puts it.
His question about special someones stirs up a little embarrassment, but it's faint compared to earlier, and so Reynir answers candidly: ]
No, not- not recently. The only guys I've- been involved with were from the same small village as me, and we all knew each other so it wasn't like... talking to a stranger, you know?
Luckily, most find lost causes romantic! Once they're not so lost anymore.
[Like, once they're not bad at the thing they were previously bad at. Which takes time and patience, the cornerstones of all the advice he'd ever been given in his life... and mostly ignored. It is entirely possible Jaskier is not cut out to be a life coach at this moment in time.
And yet nothing will stop him from trying.]
Ah, so unfamiliarity makes it more difficult? [Considering Reynir's fast array of quick reactions in their own conversation, he can see that's at least partially true.] Romance, like music, takes a bit of practice to perfect. And we're never quite perfect at it even after all the practice we can muster. [He nods to himself. Yes. That sounds very mature and true. Nay, he should be a professor. The Academy would be blessed with his presence.] Honestly, I'd say it's more important to have fun with it. Er, both topics, I mean.
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no subject
Mm, a middle ground, then. Like blowing the seeds from a dandelion.
[Oh, to find a student who actually appreciates his talents. And he's hardly even heard Jaskier play! He could really use more people complimenting him for nothing in return.]
Well over two decades so far. It's not as if I didn't put in my own bit of work. [Oh, right. He tips his head. Maybe one day he'll be more used to people not recognizing him or his music.] Jaskier, at your service. Why don't you keep going? I'll accompany you. I could use the practice myself.
no subject
Oh! Hmm.
[ That single, simple metaphor is quite useful, actually. Reynir may never have had the chance to learn a musical instrument before, but there are dandelions everywhere in the hills around his village, and he had plenty of time stuck out looking after the flock to get a hell of a lot of practice blowing on them. He brings the recorder up to his mouth and tries again - a steadier, gentler stream of air, and he holds his mouth a bit differently as he does it.
What results isn't exactly genius, but it is a sustained, clear, vibrant single note. Reynir lowers the recorder again, cheeks flushing slightly with delight. ]
That's actually super helpful, thank you!
[ What a stroke of luck, to run into such a kind stranger who is so willing to give both advice and encouragement! Reynir doesn't intend to pay it back with rudeness, but then, tact isn't one of his greatest talents, either. So, when Jaskier mentions how much practice he has, Reynir gives a little laugh and says, with genuine admiration: ]
Oh, wow! So you've been playing longer than I've even been alive!
[ Kids these days... ]
Ah, sorry, forgot my manners! Reynir Árnason. I would love that, but I only know the one song so far.
[ He brings the recorder up to his lips and has to force himself to take a moment and calm down, draw in a deep breath and remember how to hold the thing properly, get his fingers in position, sit up straight and think of the tempo of the tune before he blows the first note.
It's hesitant, and halting, but far less shrill and mangled than what Jaskier had first heard from him. Reynir keeps going, though he pauses and lingers at times, fumbling to switch between some notes, and trying to remember how the notes are supposed to progress. ]
no subject
Especially if the sounds become a bit more like notes than, ah, geese honking.]
I'm glad it helps. I --
[He pauses, pursing his lips for a moment. Longer than he's been... alive. Yes. Ah, like Elliot. The sort of nice, backhanded compliments he's getting a little more used to. Not intentionally insulting. Probably. Actually, still a great deal kinder than most.]
Well, Reynir, I suppose you might call me distinguished. In age. Like a fine wine.
[And, of course, very kind and humble. Patient. Patient, too. The minor annoyance crosses his face and is gone again, much more interested in crafting music than holding some idle comment above a boy's head. (Unless Reynir decides to bring up his crow's feet. That's a very sensitive topic, thank you.)]
There. [He begins playing a simple rhythm to provide the beat, only meant to provide background rather than overtake the song.] A much better start.
[It would be kind to call it music, but it's an encouraging start for a budding musician. Jaskier pauses when he does, picking notes back up as he finds the rhythm he needs.] Time will bring confidence, as it does in most things.
no subject
Oh! Oh, no. I wasn't calling you old, sorry. I was just really surprised. Because, you're like, way too cute to be that much older than me?
[ Reynir's face flushes as he immediately claps the hand not holding his recorder over his mouth. He's just! Making it worse! How did he manage to make it worse!? His apologies come in a hurried and stuttering rush: ]
Oh, no, I! Um! Sorry, I - didn't mean it like that! Honestly, I promise I'm not some creep and I'm not hitting on you or anything, you're being so nice and I was just. I was-! You know, sorry, can we um, can we go back and pretend I just... didn't say anything for these last few minutes? Please?
[ Status level: catastrophe.
But you know when he can't put his foot in his mouth to an atrocious degree? When he's playing his recorder. So he is just... going to do that. Intensely. For a little while. Until he stops wanting the ground to open up and swallow him whole quite so much. ]
no subject
Unfortunately, Jaskier can talk and play at the same time. The thrills of being a strings master.
Besides, he can't stop himself from laughing.] Don't worry about it. I'll take that as extremely complimentary, thank you. Though I do think it's the first time someone your age has called me cute.
[It's certainly been a while. And he does miss hearing it.] Oh, right, we're pretending you didn't say anything. My apologies. [Oh, this is terrible. Reynir seems the type to very easily tease when his reactions are so explosive.] I'll forget you called me old, then cute, then apparently decided I'm not cute enough to flirt with. Or perhaps too old?
[He really can't help it.]
no subject
On the other hand, Jaskier is talking in that light, joking voice, and even though Reynir knows he's set himself up for some well-deserved teasing, it doesn't stop him from squirming internally and scolding himself for opening his big fat mouth. He pauses playing long enough to answer, with strangled misery: ]
Oh, no! I- wasn't- that's not what I meant- you're not- um
[ He stops his stumbling words and sucks in a long breath, forcing himself to slow down enough to at least manage a complete sentence. Reynir's pretty sure that even his ears are red at this point. ]
... I know even less about flirting than I do about playing music. So. It's- it's not like I'm going around being suave at everyone else but not you.
[
Don't worry, Reynir - no one thinks you are capable of that.He goes back to playing the recorder, and at first, it is harsh and shrieky again, because his breaths are all screwed up and he's not really focusing on imagining the dandelions, like Jaskier had said. But after a few moments he calms himself enough to regulate the flow of air better, and the sound of the lute helps him to keep going, pushing on through the little tune despite it all. ]
no subject
[Jaskier does brighten, however, intrigued by the idea there is something else he could possibly teach.
He can't help but want to spread the language of love, after all. It was the goal of any good poet. Master poet, even. Jaskier plucks a slow tune, giving Reynir his space for a moment as he finds his pace again.] Well, I can always help you be a bit more... suave, as you say, if you're interested. I am, in fact, also a master of the subtler flirtations, the language of courting. Is there a special lady in your life? Special man? A minotaur, perhaps? I'm not judging.
no subject
The offer isn't one he expected, and Reynir looks over, asks: ]
Really? Seems like I'd be kind of a lost cause, before you even started.
[ But he is actually considering it; Jaskier's way of speaking does seem, to Reynir, very polished, and he'd certainly had no trouble weaving his words in a way that made Reynir react very strongly. Not hard to extrapolate from that that he really is a master of 'the language of courting' as he puts it.
His question about special someones stirs up a little embarrassment, but it's faint compared to earlier, and so Reynir answers candidly: ]
No, not- not recently. The only guys I've- been involved with were from the same small village as me, and we all knew each other so it wasn't like... talking to a stranger, you know?
no subject
[Like, once they're not bad at the thing they were previously bad at. Which takes time and patience, the cornerstones of all the advice he'd ever been given in his life... and mostly ignored. It is entirely possible Jaskier is not cut out to be a life coach at this moment in time.
And yet nothing will stop him from trying.]
Ah, so unfamiliarity makes it more difficult? [Considering Reynir's fast array of quick reactions in their own conversation, he can see that's at least partially true.] Romance, like music, takes a bit of practice to perfect. And we're never quite perfect at it even after all the practice we can muster. [He nods to himself. Yes. That sounds very mature and true. Nay, he should be a professor. The Academy would be blessed with his presence.] Honestly, I'd say it's more important to have fun with it. Er, both topics, I mean.