[Oh, it's very reassuring to know that both of them understand the idea that, once struck, it only makes sense to do one's utmost best to destroy the other. He makes a muffled sound of frustration into his hands, but it's not even about this. It's about this whole thing. This whole bloody places. Gods, he's sick of kingdoms. Politics. Men using men like pawns on a chessboard. And those who choose to be pawns.
He sighs. And yet he's still pacing. What else is there to do?
Jaskier will not participate in any of this, and he couldn't even if he wanted to. He's a bard, not a dragon. Not a knight. Not a warrior. He's not even one who can claim the so-called neutrality of the Witchers.
He's simply...
Tired.]
I don't get it. I don't know what you see in them. Why you trust them. You shouldn't trust any of these people, these kingdoms. Because, inherently, you do, simply by doing what they will. All of them will ply for their political machinations around this monolith that it is impossible for us to understand. And how do we even know that they don't work together? It's happened plenty before. This whole thing could be a ploy to get us to do whatever they want, and Summoned like you simply... go along with it. Because people like Marlo, or Ambrose, or whatever sorry bastard you have in Solvunn, find their angle in which to dig their claws, and it appears all so convenient that you share a common enemy.
[He lifts his hands, drops them. He's not sure why he's trying to convince Estinien. He doesn't care about Thorne, and certainly not Solvunn. But he cares for the Singularity, and what its fate could mean for all of them. Whether destruction, or salvation, or a mixture of both, they are all tied to it, whether they like it or not.] I don't want to be your enemy. I'm not. Gods, I can barely handle an appropriately sharp stick. I can't stop you from anything, Estinien, I only -- I don't want you to be someone else's pawn.
no subject
He sighs. And yet he's still pacing. What else is there to do?
Jaskier will not participate in any of this, and he couldn't even if he wanted to. He's a bard, not a dragon. Not a knight. Not a warrior. He's not even one who can claim the so-called neutrality of the Witchers.
He's simply...
Tired.]
I don't get it. I don't know what you see in them. Why you trust them. You shouldn't trust any of these people, these kingdoms. Because, inherently, you do, simply by doing what they will. All of them will ply for their political machinations around this monolith that it is impossible for us to understand. And how do we even know that they don't work together? It's happened plenty before. This whole thing could be a ploy to get us to do whatever they want, and Summoned like you simply... go along with it. Because people like Marlo, or Ambrose, or whatever sorry bastard you have in Solvunn, find their angle in which to dig their claws, and it appears all so convenient that you share a common enemy.
[He lifts his hands, drops them. He's not sure why he's trying to convince Estinien. He doesn't care about Thorne, and certainly not Solvunn. But he cares for the Singularity, and what its fate could mean for all of them. Whether destruction, or salvation, or a mixture of both, they are all tied to it, whether they like it or not.] I don't want to be your enemy. I'm not. Gods, I can barely handle an appropriately sharp stick. I can't stop you from anything, Estinien, I only -- I don't want you to be someone else's pawn.