Jaskier
Bard. Sunshine ray. Blabber. Pain in your ass. Charmer. Firey mistress of escape.
Name : Julia Aline Pankratz, known as Jaskier
Faceclaim : Anna Popplewell
Sexuality : Disaster bi, polyamorous/sexual
Profession : Bard, Witcher's barker, Professor of Music and Linguistics at Oxenfurt Academy, might be a spy in disguise
Weapons : lute, words, ???
Special markers : Fae heritage - she does not age as quickly as a normal human; her eyes have flecks of faintly moving grey, invisible to the naked human eye; and lying gives her nosebleeds. She has burn scars on every single one of her finger pads.--------------------------------Jaskier is undeniably talented with music and storytelling, and has a quick wit to boot. She loves easily and plenty, but her attentions are as easily lost than they are won for most people. Geralt, were he inclined, could boast that he's the only person to have truly held them without discontinuity for so much time, and he wouldn't be far from being right.She is very open and friendly, a fleeting flirt and fun-loving, which often lands her straight into trouble. As much as she relies on Geralt and calls herself a coward, she does stand up for herself and others when the need arises. It is said that her connections have led her to perform less than reputable jobs - mostly as an informant. But what is gossip to a Witcher's bard, adored by most courts of the Northern Kingdoms and bestselling poet?
Of How Jaskier Came to Be
Julia Aline Pankratz is born in a large bed, in a large room in the small estate of Lettenhove one very hot spring. The sun is high and the smell of flowers is heavy in the humid air. There are cries of pain before she arrives and as she fills her tiny lungs with air, and then there are cries of rage when her father sees her for the first time.-----------------------------------------------------------Julia loves to learn.
Julia isn't allowed to learn much. Her parents do not manage to have another child. She is the sole heir, she's told to learn how to behave like a Lady.
She thinks 'prized cow' would be a more accurate description - and more just. As she grows up, that's how she feels. Like a prized cow. Jailed in a good stable, brushed and perfumed, led to mate a couple of times while she is strong and healthy enough and once that's done, led to slaughter.She's heir, and because her father will never relinquish his hold on the family estate, not even for his brother and his nephew, Julia will marry. She will marry rich but not too rich, a match crafted by the political minds of her parents; serve her husband a platter of children - and they better be boys, this time!; and then waste away when she's no longer young nor pretty.She hates it, but instead of letting her drab future push her to moody passes, she pours her heart into her studies. She loves the arts best, the creative part of her soul soaring high. Paint splattering onto linen in the forms of pretty flowers; lines upon lines of love letters to nature and adventures that she only knows through books; and above all music. She's encouraged to do music, even. A Lady playing music is always a joy as long as she does not sing, her parents agree on that. Nicer to have around, and the piano gives slender, delicate hands befitting of a young girl from a good family. Bowed neck, gentle smile, fingers flying, she's a beautiful sight, even her father agrees.(Her uncle does too, in time.)-----------------------------------------------------------She runs. She runs so fast she doesn't have enough time to think about how she'll survive. She gets to Novigrad, and she's already dirty and starving. She sells her curly locks for a good sum, and hides the coin in her corset.Finally she reaches her goal : Oxenfurt. She heard that academia doesn't discriminate. Like for magical people, the Academy accepts all genders and recognises talent.
Still, her newly cut hair and very small chest gives her a better chance, she thinks. She's immediately found out by the young man that leads her to the head of the music department as she requested. She's a little mortified when he introduces her as "a little miss buttercup who wants an in," but he still smiles kindly and gives her a friendly pat on the shoulder.Buttercup. Jaskier. That's as good a name as any.-----------------------------------------------------------Jaskier isn't a girl from a good family, she stomps her feet and sings and learns bawdy lyrics.-----------------------------------------------------------After a few weeks, a problem arises. Well, it swells, rather than arises.
She allows for the sneers and the lewd jokes, because they don't know what they're talking about, they'll never know; and even if they did the problem seems recurrent enough that no one cares about it at all.She finds a healer who accepts to deal with the problem. She doesn't ask questions, but she still lectures her.
She doesn't know, and Julia now Jaskier will not explain. She just pushes the coin across the counter and keeps her mouth shut. She only nods appropriate, although she wants to scream.Even if she's asleep during, the healer sends her off right when she wakes up, without a salve or a potion to lessen the pain. She feels violated in a new way, but at least this pain recedes in time, and the consequences are only in her mind and nowhere else to be seen.-----------------------------------------------------------After four years, her slender hands have lute callouses.
She graduates summa cum laude, best of her class, best of the Northern Kingdoms, best of the Continent.Best of the whole wide world.But the world doesn't know shit about art, pretty melodies and nostalgic stories, and so she gets pretty much none of the fame she rightly deserves. Her ballads have always been the very best, so she doesn't know why it's not working.After a few months just catering to nobles, she understands. They're haughty, just like the academy. They only ask for the most tedious melodies, the most pretentious stories, and do not care one bit for her own compositions.
So she sets out again, and decides to ask people about what they'd like. They want fun. They want to understand the lyrics, laugh, be enthralled, discover the world and its wonders through songs like she used to through books. She thinks she gets it a little more and readies herself for a life of adventures to put into songs.
The Yapper : meeting Geralt
She had kept her hair trimmed at Oxenfurt, but between then and reaching Posada, it's grown quite a bit. Just enough for it to fly about her face when she stomps and dances as she sings and plays, more joyful than the crowd she's performing for even though she's the one working.They throw stuff at her, and really, it is the edge of the civilised world. Granted, that song needs some work, but not nearly as much as what they seem to be suggesting.
She still stuffs bread into her loose chemise, indecent but necessary for such a hot place, and looks at the man in the corner, who tries to blend into the wall but can't because of his glower.Her inner monologue goes as such, in that instant:
What a strapping young -strapping man -wait, is that hair really silver white?Then she proceeds to flirt awkwardly with the Butcher of Blaviken, bread up to her tits and lute still in her hands.-----------------------------------------------------------She likes Geralt. A lot.She made a whole scene from it, but he really didn't punch her that hard. She got worse from drunken teenage boys, and so she's pretty sure he only puts up a front of being a big bad man.
He argues with elves, who clearly cower from his strength. Even Jaskier feels a surge of snark building on her lips, but the sharpness of the witcher's look dissuades her.
He refuses to wage an unnecessary war. She feels her heart sink a little, thinking of the awfulness of ages past. He seems to remember it.In the end, she gains an elven lute. She's not sure who to thank for it - she's pretty sure the elves would spit in her face if she did. So she decides to pay Geralt back, even if her stomach still hurts a little and if the man's mare flicks her tail into her face continuously."I could be your barker!" She exclaims joyously amidst random other observations.
"Hmm."
"What? Do you not fancy the idea?"
"You'd be more of a yapper."
"Hey - No, no, I will not rise to such bait, Witcher Sir. I was only trying to do you a kindness, since you seem in such a need for a better image."
"I don't."
"Geralt," she says sternly. The horse flicks her again, as if protective of her rider. Ugh. "People are afraid of you as much as they are of the monsters you hunt."
"And you're not."
"That, my friend," he scowls so deeply she's afraid he's going to dislocate… whatever joint you can dislocate in your face, "is not at all the point I am presently aiming for. Don't you think you would be getting more contracts and more coin if people could forget about Blaviken?" He tenses just a touch but she goes on, bold and bright, "That was such a long time ago, and after what, maybe a day of meeting you, I am more than certain that the story I was told, even by historians of renown, is quite far from the reality. Which is the problem of all legends, but I digress."He stays quiet. She strums and tweaks her lute in rhythm with the steps of the mare, then starts a melody. The words come, slow at first, then a little faster.He interrupts her, she corrects him, and she could swear he smiled just a smidge, but she also had a glare of sun in her eyes.
Relationships
Parents: They have a nonexistent relationship. She cut all ties when she ran away at age 13 and a half. Same with her uncle.Ferrant de Lettenhove: He is her cousin. Their relationship is tense at best, but mostly deplorable. She knows he knows what happened to her, and she finds his lack of empathy sickening. After being informed that he has been held for years in Kerack, and despite his help when she last visited the city, she still does not wish to start their relationship anew.Valdo Marx, troubadour of Cidaris: Her oldest friend and first love, although their relationship has been marred by backstabbing and distrust for a large part of it. She is very guilty about her drunken wish, and it is one of her recurring nightmares to see him choke to death the way she nearly did.
Deep down, she has never quite let go of her feelings for him, in a fashion that differs from everyone else. Rekindling their relationship has made away with a lot of her maudlin bouts.Geralt of Rivia: Without argument, Geralt has through the years become her best friend. What was at first enfatuation had soon morphed into one-sided love (from what she's always believed), and she had trouble letting go. Doing so was however her smartest move yet. She's often annoyed by his lack of common sense, but she wouldn't trade the adventures that result from it for all the gold in the world. Attached and protective, she would do anything for him.Yennefer of Vengerberg: She isn't fond of Yennefer, her coldness and her destructive ambition, but she does respect her very much. Jaskier has plenty of reasons to also be jealous, but she's elected to ignore that feeling a long time ago, and made her way since to tolerate the sorceress.Eskel, Wolf of Kaer Morhen: There's no accounting for how strongly she's taken to Geralt's elder brother, but his own interests in music, his bookishness and sweet disposition quickly endeared him to her.
Jaskier has easily fallen for much lesser men, and has not yet found anything bad to say about this disposition. Not when it comes to their relationship.Lambert: Their relationship can appear hostile and is willingly displayed as such. It takes them to be alone by the fire during a night they cannot sleep or deep down in the lab at the Keep for them to be affectionate with each other. Jaskier would consider him as a brother, and is always ready to tease but also take his side in an argument (unless she is being targeted, of course).
-----------------------------------------------------------Jaskier also has dear lovers and friends (of the arts) across the continent, due to her good and friendly nature.