middaeg | March Catch-All [Open, Mostly]

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March Catch-All [Open, Mostly]

Who: Jaskier and you!
When: All through Mareuer (March)
Where: Aefenglom, mainly the shopping/entertainment districts
What: Livin' life as an ex-Cwyld kidnappee who has never had a bad thing happen to him in his life, singing sad songs about his lost love, learning how to dance again the way he danced with Lightning.....
Warnings: Body horror in the third prompt for Yen, mentions of last month's plot.

I. CELION DION IN THE CAR ALONE WHILE CRYING; Aefenglom; early Mareuer in the Shopping District

[After the time between his current moment and his last second in that cage lengthens, Jaskier becomes more... not quite himself, but certainly more than a shade of the bright bard he previously was. It seems fair that as things become a little brighter, he must be brought down by even more bad news.

It's one of his rare decisions to leave his, Geralt and Yennefer's home and take a walk around the city. As much as he wishes he could simply go for a walk on his own, he asks Geralt to come with him, throwing his lute onto his back. Not, he imagines, he'll find much use for it. It's simply something constantly by his side. A bit like Geralt as of late. Geralt shifts before they leave, and honestly, Jaskier doesn't question it. He understands the implicit desire behind it.

Once in the depths of the city, he doesn't really mean to go looking for her. He thinks seeing a familiar face -- perhaps one that managed to escape all of the Evergreen Circle's machinations -- will help cheer him up. Even if Lightning is possibly the last person, next to Geralt, to seek for cheerfulness. He ducks into Karen's patisserie (who at least gives him a warm welcome) only to come to find Lightning is not there, in her usual pink, frilly apron. The one that matches her hair so well.

Karen twists a towel between her hands as she shakes her head, glancing over his shoulder to peer at the wolf waiting for him outside. Sorry to say she isn't here anymore. Didn't come into work one day and I checked with the Coven. Back home, they say.

Jaskier stands quietly in the middle of the patisserie, feeling awkward.]

Oh. I see. [While some faces he's met before he's not seen again, this is the first time the loss is so visceral and in his face. Before the Circle's intervention, he had been working on a very special song, just for her, something to play on a quiet moment as they drank coffee or tea. Jaskier could say he had set aside a piece of his heart for her. And he, of course, had imagined their relationship evolving --]

Well, thank you for letting me know. I'll come by for a few more of those croissants later. They're a favorite in the house.

[Jaskier gives her a polite smile after buying a nice, fresh loaf for Geralt. He steps outside to meet his Bonded. The weather is warming finally, and the sun is out. A nice day.] I was thinking I might play a bit.

[Geralt nods and follows him. They find a nice little spot in the sun near the patisserie with a patch of grass and well-cultivated flowers. The giant white wolf curls up in the sun and Jaskier sits against him, cradling his lute in his lap. Perhaps not a waste he'd brought it with him, then.

Occasionally he leaves Geralt when the wolf begins to sleep (and only fair, for his sleep has been so terrible as of late) to walk as he strums. He plays a song ~~(minus the Office reference)~~ off and on, and another for Lightning as he experiments with a word that would rhyme with lightning ("Bitening my heart," he sings, then wrinkles his nose, crossing the words out the notebook laid across his leg as he mutters, "Fuck, I'm terrible, aren't I?"), his booted foot tapping to the rhythm. If one has heard Jaskier perform before, these songs are opposite of his normal jovial, upbeat tunes, and not quite performed with the sort of energy he's had before.]

((ooc: Geralt will be in the background snoozing, so mention if you want to directly interact with him or both of them!))

II. SHADOWS LINGER EVEN IN DAY; Aefenglom; closer to mid-Mareuer somewhere in the Entertainment District

[Nearly a month later, Jaskier is able to, at least occasionally, go out on his own. He no longer flinches at the sound of his own name, which is quite reassuring. Still, his sleep is often interrupted, even though the physical scars on his body left by the growing Cwyld mushrooms have nearly gone completely. Mostly it's only the original scar they sprouted from, his skin split by Geralt's teeth, that still remains.

With the weather warmer, Jaskier has rolled his sleeves up a little. Enough that some of the scars may peek through.

He's felt good. For a week, even more. And yet when he steps deeper into the bright lights and loud noises of the Entertainment District, Jaskier begins to feel he's made a mistake. As fucking frustrating as it is -- this was a place he flourishes. Now people sometimes brush too close and he backs away, or there's a laugh quite too loud, or he passes by a few squirrels or cats tucked into cages, curled up with a tail around them --

That does it. Bile rises in his throat and he rushes past a music hall with the distant sound of strings, but when he catches the smell of what is, undeniably, cooking mushrooms nearby, he loses it. A chill rushes through him, his body shaking, and he ducks into an alley with the urge to vomit. He can feel it all over again, the heated pain in his right arm from the cutting. The cultivating. Even if the voice does not echo in his ears anymore, Jaskier distinctly remembers what it sounded like.

What the Cywld itself sounds like, as it urges its host to spread it.]

It's gone. I'm rid of it. This is all -- [He shakes his head to himself.] A terrible memory.

[Boy, it's good no one can see him having a breakdown in this darkened alley.]

III. SHADOWS EXPAND BY NIGHT; Aefenglom; the Witcher household; closed to Yennefer

[Truthfully, it was miraculous since that time in Yennefer's head they've managed to keep themselves separate, especially when Jaskier spent, at least for a week, more often then not his nights shivering to himself, having woken up with a choked scream in his throat. It's done shit for his ability to sing, which is simply the cherry on top.

The fluctuation between intense sadness and righteous anger has done shit good for his heart, too.

And feeling Geralt withdrawing further away from the two of them, whether he means to or not. (Which, of course, he bloody does.) Oftentimes now Geralt simply is absent at night, or in the early morning, and Jaskier hasn't had the balls to ask him why. What it is, specifically, he's doing.

Because it is, of course, something to do with him.

It's another night where Geralt is missing. He's either too tired to keep trying to keep his mind closed or he's let his guard down, and in the end, it doesn't matter. The nightmare doesn't so much creep in as catch him by the ankle and drag him into it. His body is tied down to the ground, the dark Cwyld forests closing in around him. At least, he's sure he's tied -- until he lifts his head to find the mushrooms have spread down his arm so much that they blend in to the ground. Or his hand itself is now part of the ground, melted into the soil as the Cwyld takes over his body.

Enough black he can't see the tone of his skin anymore.

He screams. A light flashes through the forest, bringing a wave of heat. Fire. It's flicking at the tree edges, catching leaves, snapping up the Cwyld mushrooms along the forest floor. Coming for him. They'll burn you when they're done, I suspect. Once they've taken all those lovelies off of your skin. His harpy nurse, lover of the Evergreen Circle, coming along with her feather-tips as sharp as needles. Just a guess. They don't tell me everything around here, but it's been a delight to watch.

The cold of the cage bars plays with the heat of the fire, and just behind the flickering flames, bright gold eyes are waiting to finish the job. Somehow, even over the fire, he can hear the growls from the monsters.

Much more patient than the ones that waited for him in the Circle's basements.]

((Feel free to add a wildcard prompt if it tickles your fancy! Jaskier will be wandering Aef as always, sometimes with a white wolf Turnskin (i.e., Geralt) following behind him or watching from the distance. You can also ping me at

scathefire if you have any starters you'd like!))

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Shall I announce myself with a parade next time?

[Mogget doesn't have to be terribly observant to see the state that Jaskier is in and despite the acidity of his words they don't come out with the level of venom that might be expected. He might act like a jerk a lot of the time, but Mogget isn't completely heartless.

He watches as the bard crouches down, and then gets up and very lightly brushes his side up against Jaskier's knees. Yes, yes, maybe he's glad to see that everyone got out as well.]

I didn't there there was any doubt that I would. [He says then, and he watches the end of the alleyway as the tip of his tail continues to twitch.] And no I wasn't... you're just not very quiet. What I said stands all the same.

[He doesn't mention that a parade would probably give him a heart attack at this rate. In some way, the sarcasm feels almost gentle. Or, perhaps Jaskier is reading into things. His Bonded have both been very careful around him for some time now.

Oh. All right, he's no cat expert, but that's certainly affectionate. He stops himself from scratching his head only because it feels that may be demeaning.

And Jaskier owes him. A little. For that sense of hope there, in the cage.]

I suppose it was quite easy for you to escape in comparison. [He shakes his head, his fingers still unsteady as he brushes his hair again. It's quickly become a tic already, as he's more than aware of the black streaks there now.] Fair enough. I've never been described as quiet. [Ugh. Until now.] I appreciate it. You know, I'm only somewhat surprised to find you have a gentle side underneath all that warm sarcasm.

After I collapsed a wall, the cultists turned as much attention on me as anyone else.

[Which, in all fairness, had not been that much attention as they had been very focused on either escaping or burning all the evidence of what they had been doing in that estate.

He looks up at Jaskier and blinks once.]

Despite all evidence to the contrary, Jaskier, I am not a monster. [It's hard to tell this time if he's being sarcastic, at least in part, but he appears to be relatively sincere.] Nothing would have been gained by my exacerbating your suffering.

[Jaskier personally thinks someone Mogget's size should be a little more sneaky about things, but... on the other hand, he's thankful for anyone who went to that place to help them. Even if all the captured were not quite so needing of personal rescue as he had himself.]

One mustn't be a monster to be unlikable. [Look, they started off on the wrong foot. Not, of course, through Jaskier's faults.

That first day had been bewildering in far too many ways.

Jaskier shakes his head. He doesn't exactly believe that may have changed had his suffering provided some benefit, yet... hmm. A little defensive, isn't he? Well, no matter. Mogget, despite first impressions, is far on his good side now.] Enough about me. You escaped unscathed?

It wasn't difficult, given the circumstances.

[That is that Mogget is very small, very quick, and most people don't notice a cat running away from a building that's on fire. It seems like a natural thing for a cat to do, no? It had taken him days to groom the stink of smoke and Cwyld out of his fur.

He sits down in front of Jaskier again and looks up at him with those uncannily bright green eyes.]

And I kept my word to you, should it be of any relevance to you now.

[That is, amidst the chaos of the fire and killing and people running, he had spared a few moments to make sure that the bard was on his way safely out of the building.]

[Circumstances being he is a cat? Yes, it probably was that way. And while Jaskier had envied him from that cage, he didn't think he would adjust well to being a cat all of the time. (He was still very curious what else Mogget could be.)

Jaskier gives him a smile. How could it not be relevant?]

I'm flattered to know you thought of me. [He teases with a wink. It does... mean a lot, actually. Even if it was Geralt and Yennefer that saved him, that there was at least one other soul watching out for him.

Ensuring he was not left behind.]

I'd kiss your head for it if you allowed it. [He doesn't try, though. (Not yet.)] I really do appreciate it, Mogget. It was a sense of comfort when I had very little of myself to cling to. I don't suppose there's something I could do to repay the favor...?

I don't make promises lightly. [Mogget's eyes are sharp as he says this, but not harsh. The cat had understood Jaskier's pain at that time and had given his word to offer the man some comfort, but that word had not been an empty one. Had he found the bard still languishing in that cage he would have been duty-bound to find some way to release him.

No, he does not make promises lightly.

The tip of his tail flicks again, and one of his ears swivels briefly towards a sound in the street at the end of the alley.]

You can leave your window open a crack at night. I always appreciate the certainty of a warm place to sleep.

[Jaskier regards him after that for a moment. There is certainly a surety behind the words... almost as if he's come close to insulting him by implying otherwise. Jaskier doesn't sweat it for the moment.]

It makes you a rare breed.

[Ah, no kiss? Alas. He doesn't attempt to, though it's certainly tempting. Right. No claws in his eyes, and no ruining a newly blossomed friendship. Or companionship, at the very least.

Jaskier notices his ear and looks down the alley with a start. Just in case. Nothing. Not that he can see.]

Ah. That's all you require? Well, I can do that. [He doesn't mind. Should he? No. Mogget would be a fool to start anything with his two Bonded there. Not that he feels he would. He gives him directions to their home. With its size, it's hard to miss.] I wouldn't recommend going outside my bedroom, however. Startling my Bonded may be a real possibility.

[It does give him pause, though.] Do you not have a place to stay? After all this time?

[He gives a delicate little sniff of Jaskier when he mentions his bonded. One of the smells on him is familiar. Tart berries and lilac. Yennefer is someone he already knows.

As for the other... wet dog?

He doesn't think he wants to know.]

I do, but as the person who offered it to me is now gone from here I find myself once more reliant on the kindness of others. Or their lack of awareness.

[Has he ever just walked into someone's home and taken a nap in a sunny spot on their bed or sofa? He's a cat, of course he has. But he does see the benefit of having somewhere where he can be guaranteed that he's welcome.]

It hasn't seemed important.

[Is he getting sniffed? It's hard to miss with such a delicate pink nose. Unfortunately, it wasn't the first time. The downside of living with a wolf.

He sighs.] I'm sorry to hear it. [He must not change from being a cat often. Since Mogget had implied he could be otherwise, but considering Jaskier has never seen him as anything else... could it be he's just a cat who can change into other things?

It's too much to consider.]

Then I'm happy to leave the window open for you. [Somehow, it doesn't surprise him to hear that Mogget specifically walks into other's homes and takes a nap. Typical of cats, but it fits his personality well.] If you're used to sleeping outside, maybe. [Actually, he used to do that plenty himself. But in a rainstorm? He was taking an inn room. If he could.] I'll even leave a lovely little quilt near the sill.

[He is, indeed, getting sniffed. Mogget might not have the powers he would like to but his cat senses are entirely undulled by being here. One small mercy.]

That should be more than adequate.

[There's a 'thank you' there, if Jaskier squints a bit and reads between the lines. Mogget stands and points himself towards the end of the alley and the bustling street beyond it.]

Are you coming?

More than. I should think so.

[He gives a smile, standing as well. He spins a ring on his hand and notes that the conversation was quiet, distracting enough that his heart no longer beats so desperately.

It almost felt easy.]

Ah. Right. [Eager to escape the alley, he scoots past the cat and raises a hand as sunlight washed over it. It will happen again, of course -- another moment where he's trapped in the past. But each time, it gets a little simpler.] Thank you. For, you know. Everything. [Look, he made it a whole conversation without petting him! A personal victory.] I'll be happy to see you when you come by. Which, I'll have you know, is very surprising, considering... our unfortunate first meeting.

[A subtle way of, perhaps, urging Mogget to forget it happened.]

Oh? What was unfortunate about it?

[Mogget does recall their first meeting on the day they arrived, where they'd had that somewhat cagey conversation and Mogget had decided that Jaskier was probably an idiot.

He still hasn't shifted much from that opinion, but he has additional opinions that soften the edges of the first one somewhat. He doesn't mind the bard that much, and likes him well enough to show concern and talk him out of his own head. Jaskier would have no idea of how much that meant, coming from Mogget.]

I found it to be very revealing. [And he hops up onto a windowsill next to where Jaskier walks, not asking as he hops over to perch on the man's shoulder. Somehow, he holds his balance without using his claws.]

First impressions, and all.

[He swallows.

Well. He's certainly to the point, isn't he?]

Oh, you know. [Jaskier gestures vaguely. He does not mention that the cat infuriated him and he had, perhaps, only for a moment, considering punting him a few miles. He would, of course, never kick a cat. Even a very mouthy one.

Ahem.]

Anyway, I prefer not to ask what you mean, because I suspect it is not at all flattering to me. And I'm fragile and do not want to hear it. [He huffs at the cat, who has taken him to be something akin to a coat rack, apparently. Well, there's no claws, so he allows it. For now.] You're very presumptuous. I'm sure you've heard so before.

Mm. If you don't want to hear it, it's a wise thing to not ask.

[And then he's balanced on Jaskier's shoulder, and his voice purrs out right next to the man's ear.]

And I have, but I don't believe it's ever stopped me from doing anything.

[Just like a cat. Mogget is not a cat, but centuries of being one have certainly imprinted many cat-like mannerisms upon him. He acts more like one than he would admit.]

Normally, I would say what I wished to without being asked... but I will make an exception this time, as you are currently so fragile.

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March Catch-All [Open, Mostly]

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