isleofavalon | (OPEN) ♫ the first song

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(OPEN) ♫ the first song

🧙 WHO: Jaskier and Y o U
⚔️️ WHAT: Settling in, a party rock anthem, almost dying, maybe spying.
🕒 WHEN: Throughout May
🗺️ WHERE: In Camelot
⚠️ WARNINGS: None yet!

🎼 Quest: Party Rock

[Ever since his arrival, Jaskier had existed in a state where he had no idea what the fuck was going on, really. Either he was dead or on another world or something, either he had magic or he was magic, and a bloody gryphon was following him around and giving him these looks like he couldn’t be trusted, which may have been amusing if it wasn’t a bloody killing machine. Whether this one was young and — and worst of all, his. He’d spent at least an hour trying to run from it only for it to find him. Every time. No matter where he was.

But he was the crazy one for finding it a bit odd that a gryphon was fucking bonded to him.

It wasn’t the worst thing, but it made as little sense as anything else. As little as a bard becoming a magician, apparently, though he had little idea what to do with magic.

Oh, but worry not! Avalon had an answer for that, as well: education! What a novel idea. Which wouldn’t be so frustrating if he hadn’t shown up here with empty pockets. In fact, the only thing he’d had after falling into a lake (don’t get him started about it) was his clothes and his lute. (Which, luckily, suffered no damage from the fall or the water.)

All in all, it’s been terribly stressful. And Jaskier doesn’t necessarily need an excuse to go to a party, least of all being stressed, but, well. Here he is. Enjoying himself. And his gryphon was, for once, no where to be found. (He misses it, a little, but good luck getting him to admit it.) He plays a bit of music, drinks, uh, more than he probably should, but gods. It feels wonderful. It’s the first time he can really relax.

And when he’s exhausted, he makes a move for the door, his fingers sore from plucking strings and feet sore even worse from dancing.

There’s no door.

It escalates rather quickly from there. It’s very likely he’s only misplaced where the door is, and as he clutches his lute and moves among the party-goers, he becomes increasingly convinced he did not, in fact, misplace it.

It begins with Jaskier only freaking out, er, a little.

It ends with him setting his lute aside so he can pick up a chair and throw it at a window.]

🎵 TDM: Arrival C -- Red Spring

[Ah, finally a time to actually relax. Because absolutely nothing can go wrong in a spring. Or, at least, Jaskier is prepared to initiate murder in order to ensure that nothing goes wrong, because he is terribly tired of being high-strung about —

Well, it’s been a while since he’s been back to university. As a student. Plenty of times in the past few years has he been a guest lecturer, and while he thoroughly enjoys sitting in a few classes or two, he’s now…

A student.

Of magic.

Wonderful.

He sinks into the spring with a loud sigh, skin turning a light pink from the heat. It’s wonderful on his aching bones from all the walking he’s been doing, and especially on his hands from all the playing. A lot of playing, considering he has to work on building his fucking reputation back up from nothing. He’s introduced himself to several fellow Avalonites, and not a single one has heard of him.

Which, in turn, is unheard of.

The only shame of the spring is it doesn’t quite let one peek in on the training grounds, which he took a mighty look at on the way in. Well, why not? Attractive fighters all sweaty and, sometimes, shirtless under the sun. It’s not a terrible time to practice his, er, magic. He’s been learning. He is, if anything, a studious student.

He pulls at his magic, drawing the material of the fence surrounding the spring to make a little hole. He’s very aware things are usually the reverse in springs, but — look, he can fix it once he leaves.]

🎻 TDM: Vying for Votes C -- Crystal Hunt

[With a little practice of his magic, he’s ready to move on from turning leaves into, uh… smaller leaves. And various other small, alchemical processes that, honestly, got boring very quickly.

The opportunity to grab rather pretty crystals? Perfection. Even better is, it seems, no one expects any payment out of it. Because Jaskier will not stand any longer looking so… er, plain. Not until he has a heftier bag of coin, at least.

It feels like a brilliant plan all in all, until he’s handed a pickaxe.

Just looking at it makes his callouses hurt.] You’ve got to be kidding. I thought they’d just be… you know, on the ground.

[The worker gives him a once over and maybe notices he’s not exactly built of muscle and shit bricks. Fine. Here. Try this.

The thing he hands Jaskier is. A thing. For sure. A drill? Is he meant to smash this into the rock, too?] Somehow this feels the worse option.

🎤 TDM: Bullheaded A -- Two Bards, One Rock (only one bard, actually)

[Jaskier’s peeking out a window of a bakery he’s taken to frequenting, with simple plans of relaxing with a fresh loaf and wheel of cheese somewhere sunny, practicing on a new song.

It is, at that moment, he sees something hurtling towards the window.

That’s —

He yells, diving for the small woman he’d been about to pay, pushing her against the back wall as the edge of the boulder crashes through the far wall, sending up a cloud of dust as the entire building shudders around them.]

What the fuck is that?!

[Oh, fuck. Fuck. There's distant scream, another shudder through the earth, another crash. He grabs the sleeve of the closest arm, half out of fear and half out of complete and total flight response.] I suggest we leave. Now. Immediately.

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[ Parties are not his scene. Geralt's kept away from it as a result, but in the interests of keeping one ear on the ground for the brewing storm—an escalation towards war is a possibility that he's always careful to watch it for—he stops by the building to see what he might catch or overhear.

As he circles the building to examine it, the sudden crash against the window startles him into looking up. The fuck.

Geralt steps forward, peering through. It might've just been a drunken brawl, but...

Wait. Is that—? He stares through the glass. Beside him, a fully grown white wolf puts her paws on the window's ledge and looks in with him.

Jaskier? ]

[Unfortunately, the chair simply bounces off --

And almost creams him in the face. He only manages to duck with a cry out of the way, popping back up to stare with very intense anger with this fucking window --

Which, on the other side, has a familiar face.

And a wolf.]

GERAL --

[Another partygoer grabs him by the shoulders and moves him with such an intense strength that he nearly falls over, his last grab towards the window only catching air. Ah, ah, there will be none of that. Come on, you were playing so well earlier! Give us another jig!]

Oi, get your hands off me! I'll tear the very walls down with my fingers if I have to!

[Which was about the farthest thing he was actually capable of, but he's found boastful threats usually would have drunkards leave you alone if you were fast enough.

He shoves the man away and tries for the window. He has to know if that was --

It couldn't be. Why the fuck would Geralt be here?]

[ His expression widens as Jaskier is ripped away from the window. Shit. He'd been hesitant to enter before, knowing full well he has no plan to get out. But he also knows whatever is trapping the people in there, it's also in there with them. That's simply the nature of a curse.

Shit. It's a bad fucking idea. He can't leave Jaskier in there, though. Curses only get stronger as time goes on.

He calls for his wolf. If nothing else, he'll have her by his side. Then he opens the door and slips in, the air humming with magic. The door seals behind him as expected. Inside, there's a crowd of people dancing, drinking, the smell of wine and liquor thick. He takes a drink to make sure he's at least left somewhat alone as he pushes his way through to look for Jaskier.

When he catches up to him, he reaches for his arm, tugging him free from the group engulfing him. ] Jaskier.

[By the time Geralt finds him (and part of Jaskier absolutely does not believe he actually saw that bloody Witcher's face), Jaskier is splashing a glass of wine onto one of the partiers and is definitely considering socking him in the face, for the man keeps grabbing his arms to force him to dance. As if he can dance quite that well with a lute on his back!]

You -- stupid -- fucker --

[He stops when another hand grabs his arm. He's about to start smashing heads in if he must (with his lute, of course) when he realizes that, before his brain has fully recognized that it is, indeed, Geralt, he knows the annoyed grip of his hand, the growl of his name.

Something hot and wild flourishes in his chest. He's already mad enough as it is.] What the fuck are you doing here?

[Not to help him, that's for sure. Oh, he knows! Geralt's here to blame him for being stuck in this stupid party!

Except he'd been outside. A moment ago. Wait.]

[ Geralt looks increasingly exasperated. Yeah. He knows. They didn't part on good terms and he'd left it that way for a reason. His time is better spent alone. It's how he's always lived his life and Jaskier traveling with him had been an anomaly. One he doesn't intend on repeating.

But he sure as fuck didn't expect Jaskier to be here, too. Drawn into a world they don't belong in. How did—?

He shakes it off. The white wolf glides between the guests. ]

There's a curse on this house. [ He frowns. ] How long have you been trapped here?

[Jaskier tears out of his grip, half to get away from Geralt (even if the Witcher is, unfortunately, his best ticket out of here) and to get away from the wolf that weaves past him.

A white wolf.

For the first time, he doesn't need to ask what the creature is. A white fucking wolf. What else could it be?]

Yes, no shit. I did happen to notice that the doors disappeared! [He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, staring at the wolf. (A better travel companion.)] Long enough I've been drunk and sober several times. How did you even get in here? There's no bloody doors.

[ He makes an exasperated gesture that suggests Jaskier needs to keep his voice down. The guests might be in a stupor, but the magic that holds them also gives them a keen sense of those not participating in the party. ]

Still doors on the outside.

[ They just vanish on the inside. Which means the exit itself still exists underneath the heavy magic. They only need to break the seal.

Easier said than done. He sighs. ]

Where's your gracious host?

What?

[Fuck. Despite only feeling he should get even louder, he does quiet down, his lute against his back as he folds his arms. Of all the bloody curses to succumb to, he didn't think being trapped in the one place he felt -- felt most like himself was one he should have been so wary of.

Just his luck.

And just his luck the one man he doesn't wish to see is the one who comes to help. If that is, indeed, what Geralt's plan was. More likely he came to berate him, or something. Or even ask if he's the cause of the curse.]

Unfortunately for you, I don't have a magic spell on the man to keep track of him. [All right, he's being more petulant that Geralt deserves at the moment, but.] I finished a set and went to drink. Everyone broke apart after that. I thought that was all the song I'd be playing tonight, but -- well, here we are. Again. [He pauses.] Why, are you planning on killing him? Or flaying him alive with a few choice words?

[ Unfortunately. Everything about what's going on is unfortunate. He looks up the stairs, then over his shoulder. The bodies brush against him. He takes Jaskier's arm, moving him off to the side. ]

I'm not killing anyone. [ Jaskier is being a petulant bastard. He's also not about to pick at it when they're both trapped in his damn house, and he already knows exactly why Jaskier is pissed off at him. It doesn't matter.

Fuck, Jaskier shouldn't be here. How is he here? Out of everyone on the Continent, the two of them tumble into this one world? That isn't a coincidence. (Destiny, he thinks dryly. )

He turns away. He wants to solve this curse, not dwell on all that. And it's without a look back that he begins to make his way towards the upper floor. Jaskier can stay with the party and drink if he likes. He doubts the bard is in the mood to follow him about, as he was wont to do before. ]

[Jaskier does not resist the urge to roll his eyes, and does so. Of course he isn't. He knows the sort that Geralt is, and it isn't a man who rolls into a party to kill the lord of it. (Unfortunate, for this moment, because Jaskier feels he could wring the man to death himself, given a chance.)

For his sake, he's focusing on that and not that -- the impossibility that Geralt is here, not just in this house, that he'd seen him at the window, but this city, this entire bloody sphere. What was one Destiny is suddenly beginning to feel like a curse.

Even if a part of him is glad to see his... friend.

Unluckily for Geralt, Jaskier hefts his lute onto his back and does follow him, because it comes so automatically for one, and because he does not want to be alone here, forced into another dance until his feed bleed.] Well, what's your plan, Witcher? Interrogate everyone here? Break his favorite lamp? Maybe it's cursed!

[When he makes the little hole, he won't have much of a view of the training grounds thanks to a pair of boots moving in tandem with the swings of a sword, some that come a little too close to the fence. Lightning's claimed this spot several hours ago, and has been working on building her strength since. Occasionally, there have been bursts of magic as she tries (and fails) to use an enhancement spell and pauses in between when she tries to focus.

But it won't be much longer before her training is interrupted by her moogle's voice from the ground. Out of nowhere, Jaskier will be met with a pink nose on the other side of the fence once Mogsby notices the hole and sticks his arm through it.]

"Hello, kupopo? It's rude to spy, you know!"

[It's not... the best view. And while he considers expanding it a little, the flash of magic catches his eye. He has, of course, gone through the spiel about his own, and he's... experimented. It's, er, fun? If not terrifying? But this is. Different. Certainly. This magic is not about making pretty little baubles.

Oh. And a sword.

He cuts away at the edges of the hole, making it bigger. He moves closer, steam rising in a puff as he shifts in the water.

Only to fall backwards with a splash and a cry. What the f--]

Excuse me! I was -- [Jaskier gently slaps the little stuffed bear arm that's now sticking through the fence.] Admiring! There's a difference!

[Lightning catches wind of the spat that's broken out near her ankles, and when she looks, all she sees is Mogsby's round bum wiggling in the air, and the steam coming through the fence from the springs on the other side. She digs her blade into the ground next to the moogle and pushes him aside to peer through the hole.

This time, Jaskier will be met with a pair of narrowed blue eyes instead, as ice cold as the voice that comes with them.]

Admiring what?

[Mogsby pushes Lightning's face aside and if the hole isn't big enough for him to fit through yet, he will make it so! It takes him a moment to squeeze through, but he finally does it with some frustrated help from behind.]

"Admiring, adshmiring! If you wanted to watch, you should just do it from the training grounds, kupo! You just look suspicious, kupo!"

[Ohh. Something about that voice may tip him towards believing he could, possibly, be in trouble. However, he maintains that admiring is exactly what he's doing. He blinks and jerks back when the rather non-threatening, er, thing, was replaced by (very pretty) blue eyes.

Definitely not happy with him. Well, it's not the first time.]

Admiring, you know. Everything. Beautiful places, people, things. He -- hey, what are you doing!

[Speaking of admiring, he is still sitting in a spring relatively nude. Not that this bear-thing seems to mind. He actually has no idea what he's looking at, but it's far less terrifying than any gryphon.] Suspicious! Have you looked in a mirror? [He pokes the moogle's belly.] How are you flying about on those tiny little things?

"Here, let me see."

The drill is almost immediately snatched out of Jaskier's hands by the large, brawny and rather heavily-tattooed woman, stripped to the waist save for a strip of cloth around her chest. Mining for these crystals is sweaty work, after all. There's a pickaxe hanging lazily in her other hand, and she pushes it at Jaskier. "Mmm. Shouldn't be too difficult to use. Easier for a stripling like you than one of these." She holds up the pickaxe.

"But you should learn! I've smashed my fair share of stones, friend. It's a good exertion. Put some muscles on those tiny arms of yours." She hands the drill back to Jaskier and turns around, where there's even more tattoos on her back. Tove was a genius with a needle and ink.

"Come, we mine for wealth. I'll help you learn."

[It's certainly for the best the drill is snatched away, because as his eyes track over who is surely to be his newest friend, he may likely have dropped it himself. That's.

Whew. That's --

A lot of woman. A lot of woman on display. In public. And if Jaskier was the sort, he would be completely dismayed. Instead, he is taking this very generous opportunity to drink every corded muscle and -- oh, what fascinating tattoos. The sort you could easily trace your fingers over.

He clears his throat. Right. She's talking. To him.

The pickaxe nearly hits his foot, but he grabs it at the last moment, blinking. Oh, this is going to be hell on his fingers.] Er. S-stripling?

[Something tells me that is not a compliment. You know what? How often in his life have large, muscular women come so enthusiastically to teach him how to mine?] You know, I would absolutely love it if you could help. This is my first time.

[That was not a lie, actually. First time for a lot of things.] Is mining why you're so... large?

[Lucky genes?]

"Not exactly built like an oak tree, are you?" Eivor answers. Doesn't look like a fighter, this one. She has to admit she's curious why he'd have decided to come on this venture, given how out of his depth he appears to be. "You're likely to snap your own arms off."

She heads towards where she herself had been working, a seam of glowing minerals in the rock wall. Her mail tunic lies folded on the ground next to her pack. This is sweaty work after all, and it shows. Eivor's back muscles are glistening. "Yes. I could tell." She replies dryly, before shrugging, letting the movement roll across her back as she does so, letting the tattoos shift in...interesting ways. Is she perhaps showing off a bit? "A little, yes. Mining, but also fighting, running, climbing...other activities besides. I live an active life, my friend." She turns her head and gives Jaskier a wolfish grin. "Or did you just mean my height?" Don't think she didn't see those looks you were giving her, Pankratz.

Taking up the pickaxe, Eivor readies for a strike. "Your swings lack proper technique. Your arms would have fallen off long before you'd made any real progress. Or you'd die from exhaustion. Watch closely." As if she wasn't aware that he was, she swings the pickaxe in an overhead strike, her right hand sliding down along the shaft as she does so. The pickaxe strikes the seam with controlled force, loosening the rock around it. "Do it like this and you can go all day. It's important you know what to do with your hands."

[ the exchange catches ledo's attention because it's something different from the repetitive sound of people picking or drilling away at rocks. why is he here? well, he's never seen a proper cave, first of all. and this is a giant cave. secondly, the idea of pulling something out of the earth with your own hands and have it be useful? ridiculous! but honestly, he's a little curious. this is part of attempting to find his way here somehow.

apparently, he doesn't actually intend to do it with his own hands either, since he's seated on a bit of rock jutting out of the ground, holding what looks like a pistol in one hand and something like a large claw or even a whale tooth, if it was an incredibly massive whale. next to him is a robot, but it's fairly small, especially compared to how it used to be. not too small to get its robo-hands around the handle of a pickaxe, though, and it's what's tirelessly digging away at the rocks looking for treasures. he's also still wearing one of the only things he actually owns because he has no drive whatsoever to find anything else and completes this very strange picture. ]

Have you never handled a sidearm?

[ in terms of muscle, he has plenty, but not in a way that shows. thus, he was also handed the drill based purely on assumptions, but he hasn't actually used it. still, its function is incredibly straightforward. he picks it up from where it's lying on the rock beside him, demonstrating how to get the bit to turn. ]

Or you can do what Chamber is doing, but that seems especially inefficient.

[ he nods toward the robot, just in case it was unclear who he was referring to. his helpful deed done for the time being, ledo swaps the drill for his pistol again and gives the trigger a few light taps, causing a beam of blue light to appear each time, but more like a lighter than a gun. seemingly satisfied, he goes back to what he was originally doing to pass the time — using the laser gun to carve holes in the nail. ]

[Jaskier lifts his head at the question, because staring at the drill has, shockingly, given him no indication on what to do with it. The only thing he can imagine is he puts the pointy end in the rock, but that seems... less helpful than a pickaxe, if you ask him.]

Sidearms? Apart from the two I already have?

[Jaskier is extremely out of his element with whatever he is looking at. The outfit, the -- the metal thing, which is moving, which startles him a little. Also, it has a name, which is. Worrying. There's far too much going on here. Staring at rocks was easy.

The bit on the end spins.] Oh. Fuck. That's what that does? [It spins. No wonder it's that shape. Why couldn't they had just said that? But, for the moment, more importantly -- he points to the metal thing picking at the ground.] What is that? It's... moving metal? Some sort of golem, perhaps? Why, I didn't even know golems existed.

That won't do any good. [Nobunaga, grabs the chair from him and helps him set it back down.] Heshikiri Hasebe wasn't able to cut through the window. And speaking as the type, even throwing chairs is still a good party time.

[This might have been more credible coming from someone who didn't just refer to his way too long katana by a name "Heavy-cutter Hasebe" and wasn't wearing a tie around their head.]

Oi! [Jaskier makes a swipe for the chair back and misses, stumbling but, at least, not falling to his feet. Of course he was offered more than a few drinks, but fear is the best way for the bard to sober up very quickly. And being trapped in places. Even at a party, this whole thing just reeks of like... a witch, or a sorceress.

And he'd rather never be trapped with one of those again, thank you.

There was some sort of word he said there, perhaps two, but because he does not recognize them, they glide right by.] That's fine! Go party even harder somewhere else. I fully intend on breaking out of here before someone gets sacrificed or their genitals cut off!

[That's not entirely out of the blue: it happened during his last private encounter with a sorceress.]

What?

[Listen on the list of good times... That ain't it. AT ALL.] Relax, relax. I'll help you, but...

[He can't tell him how with all the party drones around.]

Don't read too much into this. [Drags him off to find somewhere quieter. Fortunately, the hallway isn't crowded for now.] Sacrifices of any kind don't belong at parties. We have to find the item that is hosting some sort of... [Eyeroll.] Magic. But what parties have you been to?

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(OPEN) ♫ the first song

Party Rock

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red spring

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crystal hunt

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Party Rock

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