[ He can guess from context, though. If any exist on the Continent, they haven't been recorded. It seems not out of the question. Love has never been limited within a species. Even if some might prefer that it did.
He slips lower along the branches when Alucard points out what they've both spotted: the ambling bush of vines. Its flowers bloom brightly along its covered body.
His landing is quiet. The residue from any of Jaskier's sleeping powders seems to fuck with the flowers, which means Geralt's resorted to the complex strategy known as sneaking and hoping for the best: he waits for it to be distracted by its rummaging before gently picking the flowers off the vines, including the few that tumble to the ground as it sheds.
Of course, it's a delicate operation. They're skittish creatures. He's been smacked by the thorns once already from a startled Shamblevine. ]
no subject
[ He can guess from context, though. If any exist on the Continent, they haven't been recorded. It seems not out of the question. Love has never been limited within a species. Even if some might prefer that it did.
He slips lower along the branches when Alucard points out what they've both spotted: the ambling bush of vines. Its flowers bloom brightly along its covered body.
His landing is quiet. The residue from any of Jaskier's sleeping powders seems to fuck with the flowers, which means Geralt's resorted to the complex strategy known as sneaking and hoping for the best: he waits for it to be distracted by its rummaging before gently picking the flowers off the vines, including the few that tumble to the ground as it sheds.
Of course, it's a delicate operation. They're skittish creatures. He's been smacked by the thorns once already from a startled Shamblevine. ]