Meadow

Day two of his adventure proved to be just as awful as the first. Jaskier was simply no good at this alone business— particularly the part where he had only his thoughts to keep him company. True, the golden stallion’s thoughts didn’t abuse him in that tiresome way that Hyacinth always did. But as the dim grey of dusk faded into utter darkness, he would have welcomed his half-sibling gladly, barbed tongue and all. In fact— as strange as it somehow was— he missed the roan mare even more than his soul-brother Larkspur. At least the pattern of their affectionate contempt for one another would have been something familiar to cling to in this alien place; a strange and unlikely talisman to ward off the loneliness that he felt.

If Hyacinth was here, he wouldn’t be worrying about how to end silence. Instead, he’d be wondering how he might ever achieve it.

Dawn made Jaskier’s solitude no easier to bear, but he suspected that movement and purpose might. Today, he intended to explore this large island beyond the rocky shore and monotonous meadow that he’d already seen. Though it might’ve been easier to reunite with his absent companions if he stuck to one place, that plan hinged entirely on the possibility that they were even searching for him. And considering that Hyacinth had done her best to drown him, Jaskier wasn’t certain that he wanted to wager his fate on his sister’s conscience. Heaving his striped body upright and shaking droplets of dew from his buckskin coat, the slender male ambled out from the edge of the forest and headed for the brook. But when he saw the ivory-and-gold mare grazing in the midst of the open clearing, all thoughts of assauging his thirst were abandoned.

The first day that he’d arrived, Jaskier had been briefly joined by a red dun girl whose company had been a welcome diversion from his own petty troubles. And though there was something less welcoming in the way that this one stood, the young stallion veered in her direction anyway. He made a spectacle of himself— picking up his hooves in high-stepping strides so fluid they were nearly a dance. Aching the crest of his neck just so. Though he’d never made the attempt before, the young male imagined that he looked every bit impressive as the stallions he’d seen court women in his birth herd— though in truth, he looked like a complete and utter imbecile. A handsome fool, perhaps, but no less worthy of ridicule for that single redeeming factor.

A single body’s length away from the painted mare, his pompous display was mercifully ended. There, he hovered expectantly until the moment that her eyes chanced to so much as glance in his direction. And as far as Jaskier was concerned, that single look was the only invitation he needed. “Hi.” He greeted the nameless woman with a rakish smile, the tangle of his inky forelock falling across one golden eye when he edged closer. Gods, but the women here smelled good. It sent his thoughts into an even greater scramble than usual, leaving him to blurt out the very first words that arrived on his tongue. “Your ears are strange,” he began— and then, sputtering with horror at the way he’d so thoroughly blundered his smooth introduction, he hastened to smooth it out. “I mean, they’re good. Cute. Just….different.”

Feeling the flush of blood pooling invisibly beneath the surface of his dark skin, Jaskier briefly contemplated fleeing. But loneliness made him bold enough to press on despite the anxiety that churned in his gut. Casting about for a subject— any subject— to draw their conversation away from the stupid thing he just said, he glanced south. “I’m Jaskier— rogue and new arrival to these islands. And it appeared to me as if you might be new as well. So I thought I would come and invite you to explore with me, if you’d like. I’ve heard that there’s a particularly beautiful grotto south of here that you might enjoy.”

Of course, that hadn’t been exactly what he’d heard. Raksha had actually warned him that the Lagoon— as she’d called the dense verdant territory that bordered this meadow— was dangerous and best avoided. But the brindle buckskin figured that meant there had to be something there that was worth the risk of venturing into its heart. If nothing else, it could make for the ideal place to win the admiration of this unclaimed mare. Invite her along to explore, let the dark ominous forest do its work— and then when she was trembling with fear, she wouldn’t dream of objecting to the way that his body would press close to hers. For her protection, of course.

It wasn’t like he was a scoundrel or anything, after all.