Who: Jaskier & McKenzie Greene What: Exploring, meeting new people, you know how it goes. Where: Conservatory, Green Block When: Backdated, Day 5 Warnings: Nah. Status: Closed/Complete
“Right,” Jaskier muttered to himself, studying a spill of green foliage as if it might hold all the mysteries of the universe. It did not. But if he stared hard enough at it, perhaps it might make better sense. This was an awful lot of plant life indoors, which seemed the sort of novelty that the particularly rich might enjoy if any of them had any interest at all in gardening. Most did not, he’d discovered, though everyone loved having a garden they could show off, typically while hosting… something. Parties.
Jaskier did love a good party. Looking around now, however, he could not this area being used for anything other than cultivating quite a lot of unfamiliar greenery. He had no head for plants, himself, but he’d watched Geralt a time or two when he collected things and subsequently smashed them into foul-smelling pastes with various medicinal properties that could either be tucked into the Witcher’s collection of bottles and potions, or could be sold off to the next herbalist, apothecary, or hedge witch they encountered in town.
Not that he was thinking about Geralt now. The big oaf.
So far, Jaskier had successfully avoided him. He’d gone exploring instead, and had thus far discovered a host of strange little beds, a lot of green decorations, and now this… indoor forest. “I suppose it would make camp more pleasant,” he observed sagely to some kind of fern, “If it never rained or snowed or weathered at all, but then how do any of you drink?”
Hm, to quote a certain someone. Jaskier squinted, turning in a circle, and began picking his way around the path. If his fingers restlessly ticked over the lute he hadn’t put down since arriving, well. Nobody had to know that it functioned more or less like a security blanket, the one thing that made sense so far in this strange new world.
McKenzie seemed to find his way back to the garden a few times, while he was wandering the compound, only marginally conscious that he was walking the same trail several times, as if leaving some kind of bread crumb path to follow.
It was probably the smell of the garden, leading him back to it time and time again. He was used to open spaces, a lot of shrubbery and the like. And while this place seemed safe enough, it was largely contained too. The gardens felt familiar. He also wasn’t overly surprised to find someone else there, talking to… well the plants.
He watched for a moment, before figuring what the hell, he was trying to branch out after all, “It’s the heat, usually.” And okay, that wasn’t creepy at all, just answering questions to the plants. McKenzie kept a few steps back when he spoke, used to people who startled possibly getting a touch violent. “The greenhouse gets warm, the air turns to water, the plants get damp.”
At least, his limited understanding of geography from high school indicated that was how it worked.
Jaskier did startle, but violence was generally not his go-to response to surprise. There was a little eep, accompanied by a widening of bright, cornflower blue eyes, and he craned around to find the source of that unlooked-for but ultimately helpful information. When he spotted the stranger, he broke into a sunny smile and bobbed his head in greeting. “Is that right?”
What a strange idea, really. It wasn’t bad strange, merely puzzling. Interesting enough, though, and at least plants were a more familiar thing than some Jaskier had glimpsed while wandering around. Even the beds had been quite strange.
“The heat is from… keeping the sunlight trapped?” The ceiling overhead was distant but Jaskier could see the sky beyond, which meant it had to be glass. He couldn’t imagine an entire room crafted of the stuff, and yet. Here they were. “That’s very clever.”
“Yeah,” McKenzie held up a hand, small wave tossed in, “I didn’t mean to startle you, sorry.” He knew he wouldn’t be so keen on it, but it wasn’t like he snuck up on the man and goosed him, so that was something, right?
“Typically, greenhouses are pretty good for plants and stuff that need warm climates to grow, it can keep them in a stable environment. Sometimes people help them by watering the plants, but sometimes it’s not needed.” He knew that the planet, his one at least, was facing some issues and people believed a greenhouse effect had caused it because the clouds trapped the sun or something. All he knew was that temperatures were rising and it was bad.
“It’s pretty cool to keep some more delicate species of plants too, keeps them safe from outside sources.” Extinction being a serious issue. “I saw that on Our Planet.”
Jaskier listened attentively, head cocked to one side. He was a good listener, in spite of all appearances to the contrary, and while he only followed some of what the other was saying, what he did understand was fascinating to hear. There were plenty of apothecaries that would give an arm to be able to maintain this kind of plant life right inside their doors.
Too many nasty things wanted to eat anyone foraging in the forests. But such was life, and some risks simply had to be taken.
“I think I understood at least half of that,” Jaskier decided, finally. He grinned, unconcerned with how that sounded, and swept his lute back onto his back so he could step forward and offer a hand. People didn’t like to reach around the instrument usually, which suited him fine. Jaskier didn’t want anyone to touch his baby, anyway. “I’m Jaskier and I’ve been here for… I think at least an hour, but how can one really tell?”
It seemed to be a common thread now, people who understood certain things and didn’t. So far, McKenzie figured that people came here from different worlds and different times, so it wasn’t too jarring.
It wasn’t like everyone got to watch David Attenborough explain how to preserve the world.
“I’m McKenzie,” he gave a small smile, not quite taking over his face, shaking the offered hand, “I’ve only been here a day, it’s not so bad, y’know, once you kind of get your head around it?” He figured there were probably weirder things and places to end up. “Are you a musician then?” He supposed the musical instrument gave that away, even if it wasn’t exactly a guitar or a banjo. But then, it could just be for hitting people with too.
“McKenzie,” Jaskier repeated, carefully repeating the shape of the name with the same emphasis he’d heard. “I like that. You know, there really aren’t enough names with z in them. Nor x, though I suppose that’s probably for the best. It’s almost impossible to find a good rhyme for anything that sounds like ex.”
He paused in that particular rant, which was a familiar one and could last a while once Jaskier really got going, and then nodded eagerly. “A bard. The traveling sort, usually, though not quite this much travel. I’m still not entirely sure how this happened at all.”
As far as he could tell, no one seemed to know. So at least if he was completely lost, he wasn’t alone.
As if he’d had this conversation with someone, McKenzie nodded along, grimacing a little like he was sharing an understanding before he could help himself, “Like decks? Or complex? But I guess those are hard to work into things.” Why would some want to rhyme it though? He supposed it was maybe more common place elsewhere. “My mom just likes writing ‘z’.” At least that’s why he thought his name was what it was.
Silently, McKenzie repeated it, pondering slightly. A bard. Like… like Shakespeare? That was definitely ‘older’ times, “You write like stories with music? Like sonnets and stuff?” God, if only he’d paid attention in class. “Where abouts have you travelled?”
Bards were more European, right? He was pretty sure that Shakespeare was like British and most of those fancy guys were from before America’s time or something. Maybe that’s where Jaskier was from.
Maybe he was famous.
“Very hard to work in,” Jaskier agreed, readily nodding. “Decks really don’t come up much, I’m afraid. But I like complex. I might have to borrow that.” He made a mental note, tucking the idea away for later until he could find quill and parchment to write it down. Not all of his things happened to make it along for this strange trip, but surely someone here had the means to make records.
He plucked a leaf from the nearest plant to hand, mostly to satisfy his need to fidget, and shredded it slowly as he hummed out a thoughtful note. “That’s exactly what I do. Mostly I’ve been following the exploits of a Witcher. People really do enjoy action songs- hunting and killing monsters, that’s where the coin is. I’ve been all over the Continent, in taverns and castles and keeps.”
Jaskier flapped his hand, airy, and the leaf he’d shredded spread out like confetti.
If Jaskier was from like, before and stuff, then, “We have dictionaries. I mean, they’re mostly to tell you the meaning of words, but sometimes it can help like… sounding out stuff? Words might be different now.” He remembered a lot of weird words in Shakespeare plays that they just didn’t use now. Yonder. Wherefore. Art thou. Weird stuff.
Monsters, witcher. He had a vague memory-- Ciri. Okay, so he was probably from the same time or world as her and that meant… no indoor plumbing. Okay. Explained the taverns and castles and keeps. “I guess it’s kind of like action movies now. People like the excitement they don’t get in their own lives.” What was wrong with a quiet drama? “Must be a little dangerous though?”
He should’ve suggested somewhere else, sitting down. If they were going to talk. Instead McKenzie pointed along one of the paths, indicating that maybe, “Wanna keep wandering?”
“Which is why I think I understood half of what you were saying,” Jaskier agreed with an easy chuckle. “But I learn quickly, so you keep talking and I’ll stop you if I get completely lost, no need to worry at all.” He was thoroughly accustomed to making things work. Traveling with Geralt was good for that, among other things.
He brightened up, glancing down the path, and nodded. “Yes, please, I’ve never seen an indoor forest like this before and I thought… well. I thought forests were at least more familiar than those peculiar beds. The linens were nice, but the shape… very odd.” Jaskier clucked his tongue, disapproving, and swept on without much further thought.
Exploring was the point, after all. He wanted to see what there was to see. “Danger is all relative, I think. Being stuck somewhere boring seems far more dangerous to me than following a Witcher on the road. You can mend a broken bone more easily than a broken spirit.”
That was fair, and McKenzie just nodded. Half the time he sort of got that people weren’t keeping up with him, he had a habit of jumping from place to place. Tangents were his friend sometimes. “I guess we just wanna find something familiar, right?” McKenzie could understand that.
“Yeah, that’s fair,” boredom was probably more dangerous than anything else, “is it exciting then? Travelling with a… Witcher?” Not that McKenzie knew what that was, “What um, what is a witcher?”
At least wandering meant that McKenzie could shove his fists into his pockets, less to fidget with and hopefully not look too odd.
“It is a very strange part of the human condition,” Jaskier opined, fingers ticking and curling along the strap of his lute, “To simultaneously want adventure, but also to find comfort in the familiar. But I suppose we’re made of contradictions in general, which is what makes us all special in our own way.”
He slanted a friendly, cheerful smile in McKenzie’s direction. Jaskier had never truly met a stranger. He talked. He would always talk. So either people rolled with it and listened, joined in the conversation, or remembered they suddenly needed to be somewhere else.
“Witchers,” Jaskier started, then paused, then hummed a thoughtful note. “Are a complicated business, I suppose. They’re trained to hunt monsters… and eventually the training isn’t enough, so they’re made into something more than human so they can keep up with the monsters. That sometimes makes people think they’re not so different from the monsters, but… they’re not right on that account.”
Special in their own way, McKenzie couldn’t really agree with that one more. He wasn’t sure if he’d agree on the rest though. Adventure didn’t really interest McKenzie, he just wanted a normal, safe kind of life. Sure it wasn’t exactly possible all the time given certain circumstances, and his friends seemed to find danger and trouble here and there regardless of what they were doing.
He probably wouldn’t go on some epic, dangerous quest on his own choice though.
The talk of monsters had him frowning though. “That would definitely make for some interesting stories and stuff, yeah.” Okay, so following a Witcher just seemed to be doubly dangerous now. “What kind of monsters does your world have?” It almost sounded like something from the tabletop games that his old school friends played.
And even that had some basis in truth.
“My songs were a lot less… monster-y before I met Geralt,” Jaskier agreed with a wry curl of his lips and something like a low chuckle. He reached for a flower, fingers brushing the petals, and withdrew again without plucking it. It was too pretty to risk wilting with a careless touch. He’d have to come back to write here, though. Love ballads came easier near something beautiful.
He glanced over, eyes bright. “Oh, let’s see… there’s all kinds of monsters. Ghouls, drowners, kikimore, basilisks, wyverns, striga, bruxae... “ Jaskier ticked the options along his fingers, then wiggled them in McKenzie’s direction. “Name them, we might have seen them. He more than I, obviously. Geralt had a very frustrating habit of insisting I stay with his horse.”
Sometimes, Jaskier did. And sometimes, he didn’t. Following directions was never his favorite thing.
For someone who ended up around monsters, and apparently someone that was something like a monster but not really, and McKenzie was getting a headache from that, but Jaskier didn’t give off the same vibes of ‘I trail after trouble and do it happily’ like some of McKenzie’s friends.
But then, different times and different worlds.
“Sounds frustrating, yeah, trying to keep you away from monsters that can probably eat your head in a second.” McKenzie smirked just a tiny bit, Jaskier reminded him a little of Kitty. Just in the mannerism. Screw danger, I’m going to help you. “I don’t think my world has those kinds of monsters. Do you have dragons?”
Although, McKenzie probably wouldn’t call them ‘monsters’, given he would fall into that same group.
Jaskier didn’t quite stumble, but something in the loose, easy glide of his steps tensed, and muscles through his shoulders bunched before he forced them to relax again. He was better trained than that, to let surprise tumble him off his poise. Honestly, a little mystery and it was like he’d lost his head entirely.
“We do,” he answered, something enigmatic in the curl of his lips. “I’d just left a dragon hunt, actually, before finding myself here. Walked off the mountain, headed back to put my thoughts to paper in the nearest tavern, and… well. I’m not sure how it happened, still. Portals are a nasty business, but this didn’t feel like a portal.”
Magic was twisty stuff. Jaskier was perfectly happy knowing little enough about it.
“Do you have dragons?” He peered over, curiosity writ large in the arc of his brows.
It sounded like this whole thing wasn’t too out of the way for Jaskier, maybe his experience with a Witcher and the monster hunts was a good thing, in that case. McKenzie’s life was monsters (not that they called them that) and normal stuff and this was totally off the wall for him.
“Did you manage to write down your story though?” Maybe this would end up being a new story. Maybe this was how some fairy tales started. “There’s probably some paper and stuff if you still need to.”
Broaching the subject of dragons was probably a bad idea, but McKenzie wasn’t going to lie now, just nodding slowly. “Yeah, we do. They’re not really common but… there’s a few where I live.”
“Alas,” Jaskier sniffed, “I didn’t get the opportunity. My lyric book didn’t make it, either, but if there’s parchment and quill about, I could probably recapture at least some of the moment.” He’d edit, of course. It was meant to be a story about a dragon, not a heartbroken bard. For all his preening, Jaskier rarely liked to insert himself into any story. He was merely the observer, not meant to be much of a player.
He hummed, thoughtful, and finally ducked his chin. “Well, I hope they fare better than the ones hunted for sport and spare parts.” Jaskier didn’t think much of the practice and hadn’t even wanted to go after the dragon, honestly. He wasn’t a hunter and he wasn’t a fighter and he knew how he’d feel if someone wanted to go harvesting parts of him for potions.
Rude.
“So what do you do, McKenzie? Tell me everything. Anything. Whatever you’re comfortable sharing, with my solemn vow that I won’t immediately start composing any parts of your story into prose without your permission.”
“You could buy some at the bodega. You’d just need to pay the cat.” And it was still really weird that a cat ran a store, but it wasn’t like everything here wasn’t weird as fuck. “Probably have pads and some pencils, even maybe some music sheets.” This place seemed to promote doing some fun stuff to decompress.
“They um, they don’t really hunt dragons in my world, or other monster types. I mean there are some people who try, but I don’t think anyone hunts the dragons.” That would just be suicide, McKenzie didn’t know any dragon, but he’d heard enough about them to know they were potentially the most powerful thing in his world.
“I don’t really do anything interesting though, I’m a server in a cajun restaurant, I live with my grandparents, I don’t really do much that you’d be able to write about.” Beyond being a werewolf, McKenzie didn’t think that there was anything interesting about himself.
Jaskier was back to understanding one word in every three, but that was all right. He didn’t mind not knowing. That only meant he needed to learn, and he had enough curiosity for a dozen men, or so he’d been told… many times. It wasn’t always fondly spoken, though Jaskier couldn’t imagine why. Learning was a delight.
“I’ll put the bodega on my list for further exploration,” he agreed, amicable, “Though I don’t know what sort of payment a cat takes, or if I have any coin at all.” One way to find out, he supposed, and glanced over again from the path they were meandering unhurriedly.
He understood serving and restaurants, though cajun was unfamiliar, and it was always nice to hear about a family that got along. Jaskier’s did not, but nobility were a funny bunch. Which was why he left home, or at least it had something to do with it. “Serving others is always a worthy pursuit,” he assured. “Hungry people aren’t the easiest to deal with, I know. I’m sure you have some share of tales from that alone.”
Rather than try to explain allowances for the blocks and how it all worked, McKenzie figured that Jaskier would either work it out himself or ask a friend. A closer friend at least, who might at least know how to explain it without making a muck of it.
“It can be hard sometimes, when it gets busy there’s usually a little drama, but it’s a good place, and people like the food.” The atmosphere helped, and when they were slammed there were usually enough of them to run around making sure the customers stayed mostly pleased, even if they had to wait a little longer.
Letting his fingers trail over some of the plants, McKenzie nodded with a smile, “One time, we had someone complain about how spicy the food was. Cajun food isn’t always spicy, but it certainly has more of a kick than not.” And frankly, that was some of the best parts of it, the seasoning was unique, usually passed between families. “We spent about twenty minutes trying to get the person to calm down and drink some water.” It wasn’t exactly monster hunting, but it had its moments.
“Spice,” Jaskier sighed, wistful, “Is lovely, though unfortunately too pricey for most of the taverns I’ve visited. You really only get it in certain courts and most of them, alas. They have court musicians so they don’t hire out.” Maybe now, Jaskier might explore that option. He’d been resistant to settle anywhere for a while, but with no reason to remain on the road…
Well. There were always options. The world was a very wide place. This bizarre little interlude was proof of that.
Glancing over, Jaskier beamed. “I have no idea what Cajun even means, but if you find it here anywhere, let me know. I’d be delighted to try the food. Might as well embrace this whole… whatever it is.”
He supposed spice was rather exotic a thing, the whole process of acquiring it probably took money back in the day. Or in alternate worlds, whichever it really applied to. “It’s much more readily available now, I think most people use spice in their cooking, for seasoning and flavour.” In comparison to what was once available and what was now available.
“I’ll definitely point you towards a good gumbo if they’re available,” maybe work up to the delicacies of Cajun cuisine. “There’s so many different styles of food to work through though. You’ll probably enjoy that at least.”
Some people didn’t like new things, McKenzie kind of got the feeling that Jaskier would really like the newness of this place.