[Jaskier scoots himself down a little lower to assist Dylan when he reaches across him to get into his nightstand, settling back into place once Dylan has as well.]
Well, considering the extent of my catalog that's about one man alone, I should hope I don't find it limiting, [he says, answering Dylan's question while watching him apply the varnish to his nails. Despite his own curiosity about what it is Dylan's doing, Jaskier still doesn't provide him with a shallow answer. As with anything to do with his art, Jaskier is perpetually thoughtful on the matter.] But your assertion also isn't true. I rarely play to a crowd so large save the times I've been invited to court or festivals or some other such celebration, and while it is undeniably good coin and I would never turn down the opportunity, they are not to my preference. I play in taverns all over the Continent, some of which are in towns so small, most could not tell you even which kingdom they belong and all I manage to earn is a roof over my head for the night and food in my belly.
[Jaskier, it would seem, is that hypothetical indie artist who managed to enter the mainstream without losing the intimacy of his shows and is able to maintain those smaller venues without some exorbitant charge attached to it.]
Some consider my work to be banal. Pandering, I believe, is a word that's been used. But those are the words of men who would claim someplace as theirs and yet deem the populace unworthy or incapable of understanding their music. [He wrinkles his nose at that, as though his opinion on the matter weren't obvious.] Why should the farmer not be able to experience all joy and beauty in this world as much as his lord? I've never found a satisfactory answer to that. So, let my music be banal and pandering if that's the case! I'd rather that than find myself trapped, playing the same five or so songs to a lord that hardly pays them any mind until by his grace I ought to find myself welcome to play a few melodies from his childhood that reminds him of glorious days when he was not fat or grey.
[Jaskier sighs a little then, not quite sad but certainly with a sense of longing.]
But I suppose that is what I miss about home relative to here. Aside from the winter months, I had the whole of the Continent to travel as much and as far as I pleased. Difficult as it was at times—and especially so recently with the constant ravaging and threat of war—I've always been most happy out there in the world. But here, I find myself... [Jaskier trails off a moment as he tries to find the right word.] Caged. There's so very little that can even be traveled that I believe this is the most still I've been since I was a boy and it was only my academics that ever allowed me to travel beyond my family's land.
[It leaves his wanderlust unsated and stirs a sense of restlessness within him whenever he allows himself to think on it.]
no subject
Well, considering the extent of my catalog that's about one man alone, I should hope I don't find it limiting, [he says, answering Dylan's question while watching him apply the varnish to his nails. Despite his own curiosity about what it is Dylan's doing, Jaskier still doesn't provide him with a shallow answer. As with anything to do with his art, Jaskier is perpetually thoughtful on the matter.] But your assertion also isn't true. I rarely play to a crowd so large save the times I've been invited to court or festivals or some other such celebration, and while it is undeniably good coin and I would never turn down the opportunity, they are not to my preference. I play in taverns all over the Continent, some of which are in towns so small, most could not tell you even which kingdom they belong and all I manage to earn is a roof over my head for the night and food in my belly.
[Jaskier, it would seem, is that hypothetical indie artist who managed to enter the mainstream without losing the intimacy of his shows and is able to maintain those smaller venues without some exorbitant charge attached to it.]
Some consider my work to be banal. Pandering, I believe, is a word that's been used. But those are the words of men who would claim someplace as theirs and yet deem the populace unworthy or incapable of understanding their music. [He wrinkles his nose at that, as though his opinion on the matter weren't obvious.] Why should the farmer not be able to experience all joy and beauty in this world as much as his lord? I've never found a satisfactory answer to that. So, let my music be banal and pandering if that's the case! I'd rather that than find myself trapped, playing the same five or so songs to a lord that hardly pays them any mind until by his grace I ought to find myself welcome to play a few melodies from his childhood that reminds him of glorious days when he was not fat or grey.
[Jaskier sighs a little then, not quite sad but certainly with a sense of longing.]
But I suppose that is what I miss about home relative to here. Aside from the winter months, I had the whole of the Continent to travel as much and as far as I pleased. Difficult as it was at times—and especially so recently with the constant ravaging and threat of war—I've always been most happy out there in the world. But here, I find myself... [Jaskier trails off a moment as he tries to find the right word.] Caged. There's so very little that can even be traveled that I believe this is the most still I've been since I was a boy and it was only my academics that ever allowed me to travel beyond my family's land.
[It leaves his wanderlust unsated and stirs a sense of restlessness within him whenever he allows himself to think on it.]