Julian "Jaskier" Alfred Pankratz (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
borntobebard) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2020-01-08 07:03 pm
borntobebard) wrote in maskormenacelogs2020-01-08 07:03 pm
open | We venture through time blind
WHO: Jaskier
WHERE: All over
WHEN: Throughout early and mid Jan (pre-2020 plot)
WHAT: An open log of boy toy bard from a far away land who decides to adapt and overcome, or maybe just go cry in a corner
WARNINGS: Maybe some rudey words...
i. heropa; new bard on the block
[ It had barely been half a minute since the poor bard had been handed his information pack and communicator, given back his lute, and shoved out into the warm winter day of Heropa to fend for himself. There's a few odd stares spared for the fellow in a fetching red ensemble and knee high boots, but for the most part the locals leave him to it, a little too used to seeing the weird and wonderful characters that come through the Porter each month.
His eyes lift skyward for a moment, observing the unfamiliar streaks of contrails amongst the striking blue, before they slip shut and he stutters out a sigh. Composing himself before a big performance, that's all this is. Just another step towards a brand new adventure, out into the great, wide world and... almost straight into the path of a car that swiftly blares it's horn in passing.
With a soft squeak he scutters off down the sidewalk, staying on the path like every normal person should because those carriages sure are fast. Throughout the afternoon he can be found drifting, curious and clueless as he peers into stores, vigorously questions street vendors, homeless folk and just about anyone he can corner, and gives baffled stares at the shop fronts adorned with gadgetry and bright lights.
He is most definitely a fish out of water. ]
ii. everywhere; song requests!
[ Location doesn't matter all that much to a travelling bard, especially one who has plenty of new towns to explore. He may not be quite over the shell shock of it all, but he perseveres as best as one can. He's travelled to far away lands before, seen mages and monsters, dragons and devils, met Witchers and witches... this? This is no different, he just needs the tether that's always kept him going; music. Throughout the first weeks of the month he can be found dotted around the different towns, in cafes, bars, parks and anywhere with a perching spot, picking softly at his lute, notepad and pen in lap. He mumbles out words at seemingly random, hums and strums chords, and slowly drags out sentences as the creative process takes shape. ]
... endure and withstand amidst a far away land,
where perception overwhelmed, I stand powerless at the helm,
wrecked betwixt reverence and wonder...
[ A moment of quiet contemplation, and then without much regard decides aloud: ] Nah, that's shit.
[ Other times, when he's not savagely scribbling out his own work, he'll be found busking around towns in front of crowds of various sizes, revelling in the attention as he plays stripped down, exceptionally acoustic versions of various songs, feet stamping and crowd clapping providing his percussion. Another song finished, he loudly proclaims to anyone that catches his eye: ]
A request! What do you wish to hear? Anything at all!
[Literally anything. It would appear this bard knows every song the crowd has thrown at him so far, lyrically and musically. ]
iii. maurtia falls; working hard or hardly working
[ Mob Tours, they'd told him. That's where he'd have to show up for his first week of work, tasked with keeping well paying tourists and locals enraptured with tales of gruesome murders and bloody feuds. He wasn't exactly sure what a mob tour was exactly, but when given a script to learn he was happy to oblige, studying like any professional actor should, and acing every damn performance he showed up to.
The 'uniform' was a little unusual by his expectations, but most would easily recognise the mob reference in getting their tour guides to wear 1920's inspired pinstripe suits. Not quite his familiar peacock standard of wear, but with the added blood red pocket square and two tone shoes, he at least felt dapper enough to ooze the usual confidence.
He also now blended in far better with some of the more choice bars around town, slipping into the high end cocktail bars at the end of work to rub shoulders with some of the rich and powerful. Jaskier was at least tolerated in some of the circles for now, innocent as he was in cheerfully chatting to anyone who'd listen. ]
You know, I think I could get used to a world such as this.
[ Decided dreamily as he cradled a strong whiskey sour, sucking at the peel of his orange slice. ] I feel truly pampered. Like a Lord amongst his devoted serfs.
iv; wildcard!
[ Make up something new! Give me a poke if there's any starters you fancy. ]
WHERE: All over
WHEN: Throughout early and mid Jan (pre-2020 plot)
WHAT: An open log of boy toy bard from a far away land who decides to adapt and overcome, or maybe just go cry in a corner
WARNINGS: Maybe some rudey words...
i. heropa; new bard on the block
[ It had barely been half a minute since the poor bard had been handed his information pack and communicator, given back his lute, and shoved out into the warm winter day of Heropa to fend for himself. There's a few odd stares spared for the fellow in a fetching red ensemble and knee high boots, but for the most part the locals leave him to it, a little too used to seeing the weird and wonderful characters that come through the Porter each month.
His eyes lift skyward for a moment, observing the unfamiliar streaks of contrails amongst the striking blue, before they slip shut and he stutters out a sigh. Composing himself before a big performance, that's all this is. Just another step towards a brand new adventure, out into the great, wide world and... almost straight into the path of a car that swiftly blares it's horn in passing.
With a soft squeak he scutters off down the sidewalk, staying on the path like every normal person should because those carriages sure are fast. Throughout the afternoon he can be found drifting, curious and clueless as he peers into stores, vigorously questions street vendors, homeless folk and just about anyone he can corner, and gives baffled stares at the shop fronts adorned with gadgetry and bright lights.
He is most definitely a fish out of water. ]
ii. everywhere; song requests!
[ Location doesn't matter all that much to a travelling bard, especially one who has plenty of new towns to explore. He may not be quite over the shell shock of it all, but he perseveres as best as one can. He's travelled to far away lands before, seen mages and monsters, dragons and devils, met Witchers and witches... this? This is no different, he just needs the tether that's always kept him going; music. Throughout the first weeks of the month he can be found dotted around the different towns, in cafes, bars, parks and anywhere with a perching spot, picking softly at his lute, notepad and pen in lap. He mumbles out words at seemingly random, hums and strums chords, and slowly drags out sentences as the creative process takes shape. ]
... endure and withstand amidst a far away land,
where perception overwhelmed, I stand powerless at the helm,
wrecked betwixt reverence and wonder...
[ A moment of quiet contemplation, and then without much regard decides aloud: ] Nah, that's shit.
[ Other times, when he's not savagely scribbling out his own work, he'll be found busking around towns in front of crowds of various sizes, revelling in the attention as he plays stripped down, exceptionally acoustic versions of various songs, feet stamping and crowd clapping providing his percussion. Another song finished, he loudly proclaims to anyone that catches his eye: ]
A request! What do you wish to hear? Anything at all!
[Literally anything. It would appear this bard knows every song the crowd has thrown at him so far, lyrically and musically. ]
iii. maurtia falls; working hard or hardly working
[ Mob Tours, they'd told him. That's where he'd have to show up for his first week of work, tasked with keeping well paying tourists and locals enraptured with tales of gruesome murders and bloody feuds. He wasn't exactly sure what a mob tour was exactly, but when given a script to learn he was happy to oblige, studying like any professional actor should, and acing every damn performance he showed up to.
The 'uniform' was a little unusual by his expectations, but most would easily recognise the mob reference in getting their tour guides to wear 1920's inspired pinstripe suits. Not quite his familiar peacock standard of wear, but with the added blood red pocket square and two tone shoes, he at least felt dapper enough to ooze the usual confidence.
He also now blended in far better with some of the more choice bars around town, slipping into the high end cocktail bars at the end of work to rub shoulders with some of the rich and powerful. Jaskier was at least tolerated in some of the circles for now, innocent as he was in cheerfully chatting to anyone who'd listen. ]
You know, I think I could get used to a world such as this.
[ Decided dreamily as he cradled a strong whiskey sour, sucking at the peel of his orange slice. ] I feel truly pampered. Like a Lord amongst his devoted serfs.
iv; wildcard!
[ Make up something new! Give me a poke if there's any starters you fancy. ]
no subject
Totally.
[Wait. He goes a bit squinty.]
What do you mean? You knew all the words though...
no subject
[ Cheerfully and initially with no intent of explaining himself, not until he catches on to Noah's squinted confusion. ]
It's a new talent of mine that's so far worked without fail. Makes life a little simpler here for a bard like myself who's out of touch with the music of this world. [ And out of touch with the music in the last 700 years. He's got a lot to catch up on. ]
I can sing any song you desire. Lyrics and melody. Within physical reason, of course, my vocal chords and lute playing skills are only capable of so much.
no subject
[He takes a moment to fully absorb that. Any song? Even if he's never heard it before? What a cool power.]
That's amazing. And you're, like, a genuine real life medieval bard? [As opposed to just some guy in a costume, obvs.]
no subject
A genuine real life bard, yes, exactly. Not sure what medieval is, but the other part describes me quite succinctly. I'd heard this world was lacking in my sort.
[ Which he seems fine with. Just means more spotlight (and money) for him. ]
I'm Jaskier. [ He stretches forward and extends a hand out towards Noah for shaking. ]
no subject
Noah.
[Not for the first time, he wishes Gansey was around. He would probably get a kick out of this guy.]
I guess they didn't call it medieval times back in medieval times. But yeah, music changed a lot.
no subject
What's in there?
[ He's not familiar with the fast food brands around here. Or of fast food in general. ]
no subject
[!!!!!! Has Jaskier ever had those before? Is Noah about to blow his mind? He reaches into the bag and rummages around and comes up with the cardboard fry container which he holds up for the bard to see.]
no subject
[ The fuck is a burger...? Is something he doesn't bother to ask, instead watching the reveal of the fries with a hefty crease of curiosity on his features. An intrigued hand starts to reach forward, then pauses. ]
Are they... [ Edible? ] May I?
no subject
[Sharing his fries is so worth it if it means he's introducing Jaskier to fast food for the first time. This is a magical moment.]
They're fried potatoes. Better with ketchup, but these are still hot enough to be good plain.
no subject
Hm, puzzlingly crunchy yet soggy at the same time. And somehow extremely moreish. Is everything fried around here? Certainly seems that way, although I'm not adverse to it...
no subject
More-ish? [Not a term he's familiar with.] Not everything is fried, but it can be. Fried chicken, fried cheese, uh, fried dough...
Fried oreos!
[Wait he probably doesn't know what an oreo is.]
That's a cookie. But you can fry it and it's awesome.
no subject
Huh. [ Jaskier just processes that information for a second, savouring the after taste of this fancy fry he was gifted. ]
You seem to be a man who knows much of this food. Perhaps you're to be my guide to the burger and fries of this world.
Fries fried,
Ordered as a side.
Bundled in paper,
Uuuuh, drenched in flavour-- Oh, fuck it, I'll work on it.
no subject
That could be a jingle! Maybe when you finish it they'll hire you for a commercial.
[What business wouldn't want an imPort singing their praises?]
no subject
[ So there is a downside to the power after all; jingles and unwanted music. And yet despite himself, he pulls his lute back into position once more to strum out the few very recognisable chords of a certain fast food joint. ]
It's all the advertisements, isn't it? I've seen them on the television. Just reams of kitschy melodies, one after the other, desperate to claw into unsuspecting minds. Not dissimilar to half the pandering hacks back in my world. And Valdo had the audacity to call me talentless. Me! The greatest bard in the land.
no subject
Sorry.
[Both for introducing a bunch of earworms into his brain and accidentally insulting him. No idea who Valdo is, but clearly he touched a sore spot.]
Greatest bard in the land, no question. [Only bard? Whatever.] You're super talented. You could write anything you want.
no subject
I could! And I have. [ The jingles being idly strummed on his lute slowly morph into the chords of a certain earworm of a song that he created about a certain witcher. Just quiet background music to the conversation, but at least its his own work now. ]
Although I must confess, covering known songs has it's own enjoyments. I quite enjoy taking requests. Something new every time, some new melody to learn, and happy faces all around. At least the people in this world appreciate my efforts, and gift me fries.