March Catch-All [Open, Mostly]

[cointosser]

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!))

Comments

[weatherscience]

Of course!

[ according to her, her friends are the best, the most reliable, the loveliest people there are. she's nothing if not loyal to those she cares about.

the bright music makes her smile widen... as do his words. ]

Yes, I think so too... I don't think any of us really wanted to come here, but I can't help but be grateful that I've had the chance to meet so many wonderful people. It's really the best thing about this place.

[cointosser]

[It's very hard not to be swept up in Nami's enthusiasm, even if Jaskier (usually) has plenty himself. He grins, speeding up his fingers. It comes as natural as breathing as it ever did, holding the conversation as he picks the next notes in the background of his mind.]

It's certainly not as terrible as it could be.

[It's very on the spot, but what can he say? He's inspired. He plucks what details he knows from a swirl and sings a few lines of a saint, a cook, and a pirate meeting in another land, bonding together like links in a solid chain. Now that -- that, he thinks, Lightning would like.

Friends held together like chains.

Or perhaps he just likes it a lot himself.] Give me a week and I can have a full song for you. It's the least I could do for the inspiration.

[weatherscience]

[ she listens to his song with a soft, happy smile, laughing a little at the metaphor... but it's beautiful, too, she thinks. ]

That's lovely.

[ the chain, she means; it's nice to think that maybe, even if some of them are gone now, all of their fates will link to one another... that their lives intertwined, at least for a little while. ]

Oh, you don't have to do that! But you know what you could do? [ with an i-can't-believe-i-have-to-say-this kind of look, ] Tell me your name.

[cointosser]

A lovely song for a lovely woman. It's only fair, isn't it?

[He can't help it. He winks, but it's not quite the flirtation he would usually manage. Besides, the moment is somewhat still somber, thinking of lost friends.] And for our lost, lovely company. I am quite glad to hear you enjoyed it.

[He tilts his head in question. Of course he's going to do it anyway, but --] Oh, fuck. Forgive my terrible manners! I should have done so ages ago. [He can no longer blame it on being so used to being recognized -- he was sort of a big deal at home, after all. But now his mind is, well. Constantly distracted. Drifting.

And so many acquaintances as of late simply... disappear. He tips his head down in a sort of bow, a sweep of his arm that isn't holding the lute going across his chest.]

The bard Jaskier. At your service, Nami. [One of them had remembered, after all.] I'm afraid I've had a head full of clouds lately.

[No one warned him that trauma kind of does that.]

[weatherscience]

Mm, of course!

[ she smiles, pleased, and tucks her hair behind her ear very demurely... which is, of course, entirely affected. she knows she's lovely! but it's always nice to hear it.

at his cursing, she just laughs. ]

It's fine! We had important things to talk about. But it's good to officially meet you, Jaskier.

[ she can guess what he means by the clouds... and perhaps that's why she reaches to the paper bag she's carrying and takes out one of the still-warm, paper-wrapped croissants. ] Here, take one. Creating is hard work, you shouldn't forget to eat.

[ after all.... it's not just sanji-kun in their crew who knows the importance of food. ]

[cointosser]

For you as well, Nami.

[And he does love a woman who can laugh at a curse. And be so beautiful doing it. Ah. If only his haydays were still around. (They would be. Soon enough. He'd... work up to it.)

He sits up, blinking.

He'd been playing for himself, expecting no payment. Not in this nice little park, not really.] Really? [What a difference from the bread they'd once thrown at his head years and years ago. He takes it, gently wrapping it in a handkerchief from his pocket.] Thank you. They're quickly becoming my favorites.

[Even if there's no Lightning to go and serenade at the bakery anymore.]