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[lettenhove]

WHO: Jaskier + anyone, everyone
WHAT: exploring the Gallows, maybe getting into trouble with the locals, writin' songs and flirting with anything that looks human-ish. also probably trying to find a place to get some good wine.
WHEN: Now-ish
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: Jaskier, the bisexual singing disaster comes with his own warnings for language. will update as necessary.

Fall, in Jaskier's opinion, is generally his favorite season. Not rainy like it can be in spring, nor is it cold and frigid like it tends to be in winter. In fact, he finds fall suits him well given his love of long-sleeved doublets with frilly, cotton undershirts. They're just enough to cut out the chill while still cool enough that they don't stick to his back or chest like they might during the summer. Furthermore, fall tends to be the time of Saovine, a time of late-harvest merriment that always proves to be a good time to try out new ballads and jigs.

That, at least, holds true for the Continent. Back home, Jaskier usually would be making his gradual way back to Oxenfurt, having parted ways with Geralt for the season, but since he is both parted from his close friend and no longer on the Continent he knows, Jaskier feels a bit adrift. That morning, he rises with the sun, dons his clothes ( which are starting to look worse for wear and in need of a few repairs ), and figures now would be a good day to do a little exploring.

The Gallows, as cloistered as it is, seems worth checking out, since he can't go much else for the time being. What he really wants is some good ale, or even better, a Toussaint wine. He also wants some company. This is the first time in a long time in which Jaskier has been well and truly on his own. Fortunately, as he emerges into the main area of the Gallows, it's clear that the place is well protected, which allows him a sigh of relief.

That is, until a giant griffin swoops overhead with a loud cry. Immediately, Jaskier ducks, almost falling on his face, as he tries to keep out of the creature's path.

"Sweet Melitele, someone bring that thing down!" he shouts, because where he's from, griffins are monsters slain by witchers. Nobody would think to ride one.

LATER:

It's getting towards noon now and Jaskier can feel his stomach growl with every step he takes around the Gallows. He's not really sure when the last time he ate, but he figures with a place like this, they have to have somewhere he can grab some food. Something beyond moldy or stale bread, he hopes. Or rations. One of the benefits of not traveling with Geralt anymore is the fact he doesn't have to live off whatever Geralt rustles up from the area in which they might be camping. So Jaskier expects something warm and filling. He heads towards where he expects to find the mess hall or whatever it is and sidles up to the nearest cook with an expectant expression.

"Any chance you've got some ale to go with that?" he asks, hoping that it's better than some of the other ales he's had on the road as of late.

EVENING:

The sun is slowly beginning to set behind the walls of the fortress and Jaskier, after picking at his anchor for a bit, decides he better find something to take his mind off the shard in his hand. It no longer hurts, fortunately, but it's still something of a nuisance. Now that he's been told what it does, he doesn't know what to do with himself. "Close rifts," he murmurs to himself. "This is so beyond my pay grade."

Eventually, he settles himself in the main area, hoping to draw some attention to his music and not his hand, and thus distract himself a little. He starts with a gentle strumming of his elven-made lute, and then begins to sing.

Warm glow with a golden shine
Come to rest under the virile vine
Dark flow from the oldest shrines
Blight and blood under the wealth and wine
With black blood in my veins
My silver sings again

He'll continue to play quietly, mostly for himself, until someone decides to come along and sit with him.

Comments

[lettenhove]

"Right, right, of course. Well trained, they are, I'm sure." Jaskier clears his throat and watches Ellis with an appraising eye. The man is offering to answer questions and, fuck, if Jaskier doesn't have a treasure trove of them. To start off with, he wants to know the name of the place he's currently stuck in and if he should expect any more tamed creatures to swoop down over him.

"I don't suppose you could tell me what other... things you've domesticated here. Just to warn me, you know. So I can be prepared for... yeah."

[heorte]

A considering pause, in which Jaskier would be forgiven were he to assume Ellis were tallying some list of ferocious creatures.

"There's a stray dog in the Gallows."

Said with only the barest twitch of humor to offset the seriousness of the remark.

[lettenhove]

He had been prepared for a different answer. But with that, Jaskier makes a slight face and then huffs. "Well, that's just... not very exciting for a place called The Gallows."

(Wait, what?)

[heorte]

"The Gallows has had enough excitement in the past years," Ellis returns. Butterball shifts his bulk impatiently against Ellis, who sighs and reaches higher to scratch his neck. "The griffons might be all you have to get used to here. Whatever worries you have about something taking a bit out of you won't be necessary until you start going out on missions."

Assuming this man ever did. Ellis can't tell exactly what he might decide to do with himself.

"Are you a singer?"

[lettenhove]

"Singer? Such a maudlin way of putting it, my friend," he trills while preforming an elaborate bow. "I am a bard of some renown. At least where I come from. I've made the great White Wolf Witcher famous with my songs."

Boasting? Only a little, but at least he seems genuine.

"I hail from the Continent, where monsters roam and witchers regularly do battle with them. Chaos, or magic to the lay folk, is everywhere, and fate regularly twists the lives of people all over. Putting all that to lyrics and a simple tune is what I do. Perhaps one day, I'll write a ballad about you and your, er, lovely companion."

[heorte]

There's some similarity with his discussions with Tony; Jaskier invokes a handful of things Ellis has no frame of reference for but can draw some very broad conclusions about.

"Butterball isn't mine," is all Ellis says at first, bypassing the urge to mention You don't have to bow to me. "But if you're interested in writing songs, I'm sure we'll be able to provide you with a fair amount of material."

Leaving out the general chaos of Riftwatch may not lend itself so neatly to the kinds of ballad Ellis assumes Jaskier writes.

"There's plenty of chaos to go around, these days."

[lettenhove]

"Oh," He says, a bit put out that the animal doesn't belong to Ellis (that would make for a much better story), but he quickly recovers with a charming grin and a wink.

"I'm very interested in all sorts of stories. Romance, heroics, fate and power. And I'll make you famous, like I did for my friend." At the mention of Geralt, something flickers through his cornflower-blue eyes, not unlike sadness or pain, but it's brief, barely there. "If you know anyone who needs a barker, or a bard to share their triumphs with the world, do let me know."

[heorte]

"I shouldn't like to be famous," Ellis says, slower in the wake of the flicker of expression on Jaskier's face. Homesickness is not such a mystery to him. "But you might try the Diplomacy office for suggestions. They might be able to find you someone suitably heroic."

Or just to see Byerly Rutyer, who Ellis assumes would take full advantage of the offer at hand.

"Do you want to pet him?" is the next offer made, though Ellis has a sense it might be too soon to coax this man anywhere near a griffon.

[lettenhove]

"P-pet. Pet him?" Jaskier asks as if he's not sure he's heard correctly. He then swallows and grits his teeth, unsure if it's safe. So far, the griffon hasn't made any move to rip him to shreds, so... maybe it's okay? Inching forward with hand outstretched, he has forgotten that he's using his shard-ed hand (his dominant, as it would happen, thanks rift).

"Diplomacy office, hm? That might be a good place to-"

[heorte]

Butterball is accepting pets in the aggrieved dismay of any beast who expects food and is settling for expressions of affection. There are a few dismayed clicks of his beak, some shuffling and beating of wings, but Jaskier's outstretched hand is received.

Ellis doesn't comment either way, lest Butterball be tempted into naughty behavior.

"Bastien might be helpful too," Ellis says. "He plays a few instruments as well, but I haven't heard whether or not he composes his own tunes."

[lettenhove]

If the clicks of Butterball's beak startle him ( and they do ), Jaskier does a remarkable job of not showing it. Instead, he slowly settles into the motion of petting the beast, but not without a thought along the lines of I wonder what Geralt would think of me now...

"Bastien... Bastien. Plays the viol, I believe? I could certainly ask him, though I might not as I made the mistake of flirting with his wife."

[heorte]

"I wasn't aware he was married."

And to who? Someone in Riftwatch? He'll need to ask Wysteria, at some point. Maybe.

"He isn't the type to hold a grudge, as far as I know. You shouldn't be too concerned."

[lettenhove]

"That is if I'm getting the right person. Might be confusing this Bastien for someone else." Which, he is. All the voices that have come through the crystal so far have sounded a little bit familiar.

"I've mixed people up before. It's an unfortunate habit of mine..." he trails off, forcing on an expression that suggests he's trying to play innocent. "It's just that when one travels so much, keeping lovers names right can be a bit... difficult."

[heorte]

"So the flirtation with married women is an ongoing trouble for you?"

A small, amused smile plays at the edges of Ellis' mouth. He doesn't necessarily anticipate that being much trouble within Riftwatch, but at actual formal dinners—

Well, that can be Byerly Rutyer's problem as well. Ellis is in Forces for a reason, and that reason is avoiding most things social.

[lettenhove]

Making another face, Jaskier tries his best to seem like he's not to blame, but as Geralt once said, he does have the face of a cad. He tries his best, he does! But... he just falls in love so easily.

"And married men. Daughters. Mothers. Brothers. Frankly, I've lost count."

[heorte]

This is quite the list. Ellis' eyebrows raise, amused, as Butterball makes further aggrieved noises under the combined petting.

"So we really will have to warn the Ambassador about you before we send you anywhere."

A little teasing, but also—maybe true.

[lettenhove]

Jaskier's response is a bit exaggerated as he gapes, pointing at his companion. "That's- That's just..." Then he pauses, dropping his hand and managing a self-deprecating grin. "Probably true, unfortunately."

[heorte]

The grin on Ellis' face widens, quiet amusement clear.

"You'll fit in fine here," is his pronouncement, though it's uncertain whether this is a compliment or not. Ellis sounds fond when he says it, at least. He gives one last pat to Butterball, before clearing his throat. "I need to take him for a flight. Walk out with us?"

[lettenhove]

Jaskier's brows raise at the comment, and then he's offered to join Ellis. He only takes a moment to respond, because, come on. The guy is definitely easy on the eyes and Jaskier would definitely like to get to know him better. He shuffles closer with a speculative expression, giving Ellis another once over.

"I suppose I could. How long will the flight be?"

[heorte]

"Not up," Ellis corrects gently. "Just out into the yard, so one of the others don't come down after I've taken Butterball."

The considering look is roundly ignored. If Ellis is aware of it, not a trace of reaction shows on his face.

"I don't think you can get around the quarantine on griffon-back, but I'd rather not answer for it to the Division heads."

Or to risk someone untrained falling off the back of a griffon. There are more docile and sweet-tempered griffons Ellis could recommend if Jaskier wanted to undergo the training Yseult had sent most of Riftwatch on last year, but that's a suggestion for another conversation.

[lettenhove]

"I meant... Never mind," he says with a shake of his head. He was more hoping to get a bit of Ellis' attention after, but Jaskier suspects he's missed his mark this time.

"I suppose I'm just stuck then. Still..." Because Jaskier is a determined sort of person and doesn't give up easily. "Perhaps we can grab a drink once we're finished?"

[heorte]

A minor pause, as Butterball's wings beat once overhead. Ellis nods towards the open doors, gives Butterball a little tug to set him walking.

"I don't drink," Ellis admits. He hasn't said as much aloud, but he hasn't really had invitations of that nature since arriving. He doesn't know exactly what to do with it. He isn't given so much to socializing. "But I'll be in the dining hall later, after my guard shift. Could be we'll see each other there."

[lettenhove]

Jaskier immediately ducks a bit as the griffon's wings flap and he releases a tense breath once Butterball settles. Then, he turns towards Ellis again. The man is a guard? Not exactly Jaskier's usual type, but he's not above trying something new.

"Oh!" he says, immediately quite cheerful. "Dinner sounds wonderful. I'll definitely meet you there.

After all, even if nothing comes out of this, Jaskier figures Ellis will tell him more about this new world and answer more of his numerous questions.