[While normally someone talking to a creature, big or small, would not exactly catch Jaskier's attention as he's passing through the city on his way from outside the walls, beautiful women certainly do. And it's while he's admiring her from afar that he notices the small creature by her feet.

His heart throbs with an old bit of sadness. It hasn't even been a month yet.

If he didn't know better he may think it some sort of Turnskin, the white quite striking on its own. But it doesn't seem entirely there. He wonders, were he still a witch, would he feel magic emanate off of it?

Jaskier can't help himself. He may be an Aeternae now, but he's found that only those who knew him before seem to be startled by his crystal horns and blue-tinted skin, or the pupil-less blue of his eyes. New acquaintances, hopkeepers, even his tailor -- barely even a blink, except to welcome another Aeternae to Aefenglom.]

Excuse me. [He tries to catch Aerith's attention with a little wave of a blew hand, carefully manicured and rounded claws painted blue.] I can't help but notice your, ah, friend. Are they a familiar?

[He's not sure. Yennefer's bird was quite solid, considering it'd pecked him more than once. His eyes are certainly following the fox, white as Geralt's fur. It brings to memory that he knows well what it feels like to run on all fours, too, as a fox.] They're quite beautiful. A pretty fox, I think, suits you well.

[It'd be rude to not point out she's beautiful as well, of course.]