[He can barely contain himself. It's good. It's very good. It's brilliant, and both he and Alucard know it, but just. For now, if only from one, he would truly like to hear what others see in it. If it's simply a vanity project, or something truly meaningful.
Objectively, he knows it is. It was never about pounding out his name into a plaque placed near the sculpture itself.
Sometimes it is nice to hear otherwise.]
I know you will, yet there is a difference between believing and being proven right. [He nudges her with his arm, teasing. The way to the portal passes quickly, though for once Jaskier is not filling the silence with chatter. This could be possibly the biggest thing he's ever done (besides Toss a Coin, obviously. People are still singing that twenty years later. But he knows well how much that song was selfish. For himself. It wasn't about the elves, or Geralt --
In some ways, he'd worked on trying to make up for it. A little. (Still a banger.)
On the other side of the portal, he leads her through the streets carved through remaining destruction as the city begins looking more like a city and less a pile of discarded things. He knows Libertas well now, all its ins and outs, and several people even wave to Jaskier as he leads the Witcheress onward.
The first indication that anything special is here is a small hedge of blackberry bushes -- and just beyond them, the rare, dizzying sight of green grass.] This is only the edge of it.
[Willow Memorial Park lays itself out in front of them, the peaks of trees in the distance. And, rising above even the treetops, the ever-shifting sight of the memorial sculpture.
It must be the greenest any part of this desert has been for some time.] Not too garish, I hope?
no subject
[He can barely contain himself. It's good. It's very good. It's brilliant, and both he and Alucard know it, but just. For now, if only from one, he would truly like to hear what others see in it. If it's simply a vanity project, or something truly meaningful.
Objectively, he knows it is. It was never about pounding out his name into a plaque placed near the sculpture itself.
Sometimes it is nice to hear otherwise.]
I know you will, yet there is a difference between believing and being proven right. [He nudges her with his arm, teasing. The way to the portal passes quickly, though for once Jaskier is not filling the silence with chatter. This could be possibly the biggest thing he's ever done (besides Toss a Coin, obviously. People are still singing that twenty years later. But he knows well how much that song was selfish. For himself. It wasn't about the elves, or Geralt --
In some ways, he'd worked on trying to make up for it. A little. (Still a banger.)
On the other side of the portal, he leads her through the streets carved through remaining destruction as the city begins looking more like a city and less a pile of discarded things. He knows Libertas well now, all its ins and outs, and several people even wave to Jaskier as he leads the Witcheress onward.
The first indication that anything special is here is a small hedge of blackberry bushes -- and just beyond them, the rare, dizzying sight of green grass.] This is only the edge of it.
[Willow Memorial Park lays itself out in front of them, the peaks of trees in the distance. And, rising above even the treetops, the ever-shifting sight of the memorial sculpture.
It must be the greenest any part of this desert has been for some time.] Not too garish, I hope?